#because sometimes that's true! but more often than not i squint and go... really?

[calware]

there is some law of the universe that dictates that homestuck fans will eternally scramble to try and find a random male character to be a boyfriend for dirk that isn't jake, because god forbid dirk doesn't have a boyfriend

[lovekz]

the rizzler

syn : ran brings his brother to get his hair done. big mistake

warnings : horrible rizz, ran is rindou’s #1 hater, could be seen as chubby reader, ran and rindou act like the true brothers they are, cringey ig

~

“rin!” ran called loudly, dashing up the stairs to his brother’s room.

rindou was in his room with his headphones on, playing his video game with his brand new controller.

he often tunes ran out from his shenanigans because he just can’t stand him sometimes.

also because ran broke his last one by body slamming him into the floor one night.

so ran does the only thing he could to to gain his little brother’s attention.

jump on him and throw all his weight into him.

“ran go away!” rindou groaned, trying to push the elder off him.

but of course, ran is heavier despite his lanky body.

ran giggles, resting more of his weight on top of him with a grin.

rindou shoves him off successfully after giving him a purple nurple, resuming his game.

ran plucks one of the headphones out of his ear just so rindou could hear him.

“I have a hair appointment at 7 and I don’t wanna go alone.” ran sighed, draping himself over the end of rindous bed frame.

ran’s hair grew longer than he could handle by himself, so he began going to the hair salon to get it done.

rindou suggested he cut it, but ran complained that ‘he wasn’t ready to make new memories’

ran doesn’t know Rindou will cut it himself before he turns 25.

“so ask kakucho or mitsuya.” rindou grumbled, squinting his eyes to focus.

ran glared at his brother, before letting out a loud and obnoxious sigh.

“if only I had a brother to go spend time with me while I get my hair done.” ran exclaimed, looking at rindou with a frown.

and ran doesn’t miss the little ‘if only’ that leaves his brother’s mouth as he plays the game.

so he had no choice.

“wow rin! thanks for saying you’ll come! be ready by 6:30 sharp!” ran exclaimed, dashing out the room before rindou could refuse.

-

ran drags his brother into the shop, a big grin on his face.

rindou is wearing wide leg grey sweats and his black hoodie, a disappointed scowl on his face.

he could’ve been at home upping his character level but no.

ran wanted to be annoying today.

“I’m here with a special guest!” ran called out, walking to the back of the room.

there’s shuffling when they get to the seats, and someone pops up from the back door.

“finally! your 10 minutes late ran.” you complained, fixing your apron.

rindou looked up at the feminine voice, locking eyes with you.

you were gorgeous.

the way you stood, your eyes, your teasing smile, and your nose fit just right.

god knew what he was doing when he created you.

“yeah, my brother’s a ipad kid. said he couldn’t come without a sandwich and his ipad.” ran chuckled, nudging him.

you laugh at ran’s little joke, though it wasn’t that funny.

but rindou would replay that joke again and again just to hear your breath taking laugh.

he’s gotta get your number by the end of the night.

“well hi. I’m ran’s stylist. you must be rindou?” you introduced yourself, holding your hand out.

ran has spoken about him? he knows it probably isn’t good, but he’ll shoot his goddamn shot.

he repeats your name slowly in his head, flashing you a smile.

“that’s me. nice to meet you, I love your name. I got you a sandwich as an apology for being late.” rindou replies, giving your hand a light squeeze.

you say a polite thank you and get started on ran’s hair, detangling before beginning to wash.

while you wash his hair, rindou watches from the side.

‘those must be heavy.’ rindou thought to himself, tilting his head.

he imagines you at home with some bad back pain, no help from a strong, flexible man with big strong hands.

“does your back hurt?” rindou questions before he can rethink it again.

you stay silent for a bit, thinking to yourself while you scrub Ran’s scalp.

“uhm.. no not really. I try not to bend too much when I comb through the hair.” you explain, completely oblivious.

rindou sees that you didn't understand or see what he was gesturing towards, so chuckles to himself.

ran understands what was happening, so he shoots rindou a look to tell him stop.

but he was the one that wanted rindou to come, so rindou was going to do whatever he wants.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant your breasts, not to be disrespectful.” rindou says politely, looking at you with doe eyes.

you laugh at that, and rindou’s heart flutters.

one more laugh and he might just have to use the bathroom for a bit.

“sometimes, after a hard day at my jobs.” you respond, not offended at all.

ran’s giving him that look again, and rindou ignores it.

he nods at you, stretching his limbs and leaning back into the seat.

“well I’m really good with my hands, you can let me know if you ever need a massage anywhere.” rindou winks.

ran puts his hand over his face, immediately wanting to send rindou home.

you roll your eyes playfully, and decide not to respond to him.

when you comb out ran’s hair and set him under the dryer with leave in conditioner, you begin eating the sandwich ran mentioned.

rindou kept shifting his eyes over to you, trying to ‘lure you in’ with his body language.

“something you have to say rindou?” you questioned, putting your sandwich down with a sigh.

rindou shakes his head, resting a arm on the armrest of the chair.

“all my pickup lines have been taken. how about you?” rindou asked, tilting his head.

you stifle a laugh, squeezing your eyes shut.

ran begins to play a voice line from spongebob.

“no rindou. I’m not. I'm very much single.” you reply, taking another bite of your sandwich.

he so wants you to moan his name right now.

but rindou doesn’t dare to ask you for that, he simply nods his head and takes a bite of his own sandwich.

he goes to speak, but you stand up and walk over to ran as the dryer dings loudly.

damn ran being annoying and an attention seeker.

ran watches as you walk over to him, lifting the lid off the dryer and gesturing over to the wash station.

you rinse out the conditioner quickly, and take him over to your station.

“how come you’re single?” Rindou questioned, getting closer and sitting in the seat beside ran.

you pause in your movements of combing Ran’s hair, thinking about it lightly.

for a second, you realize you pause so you continue to run the comb through his scalp.

rindou waits for your answer, watching as you contemplate on what to say to it.

“I like my peace. too much toxicity in men right now.” you shrugged, before turning on the blow dryer.

ran was grateful you did, because if he heard rindou say anything more he would have to beat him with his wet hair.

the dryer stays on for a few minutes to dry ran’s hair, before it shuts off all together.

you began combing again and greasing it a little bit.

“you like music?” rindou asks out of the blue, leaning back into the comfortable seat.

you nod shortly, getting your straightener comb and beginning to run it through his hair.

the comb makes a small buzzing noise, filling the silence easily.

“last night I made a playlist of all the hottest singles. sadly you weren’t there.” rindou sighed in annoyance, tossing his hands over his eyes.

you don’t respond, but a loud ‘thump’ resonates through the salon.

the buzzing stops, and rindou peaks his eye open.

ran was standing up out of the seat, glaring at his brother with the cape still around him.

you were snickering to yourself, facing away.

rindou glares back at ran, removing his hands from his face altogether.

“go wait in the car, you sack of shit.” ran said, completely annoyed with all his little brother’s pickup lines.

rindou scoffed and stood up, grabbing his things and beginning to walk to the door.

he didn’t wanna fight his brother in front of you, let alone in a hair salon that you work in.

rindou turned around to flash you a big smile.

“well honey, all my pick up lines are out. but I’ll pick you up at 8 tomorrow! dress nice!” rindou called, before dashing out of the salon before ran could throw the hairspray at him.

you giggled to yourself, kinda glad ran had came with his brother.

-

by time ran finished, rindou was slouched in the seat scrolling through his phone.

he was half asleep with the doors unlocked.

ran got into the driver’s seat, slamming the door to wake him up.

rindou barely flinched, looking over at his older brother with a scowl.

“what the fuck was that in there? since when were you into girls?” ran scoffed, starting the car.

“since forever? what the hell?” rindou replied, sitting up and getting offended immediately.

ran mocks him, before muttering something under his breath.

rindou flips him off, turning to look out of the window as he daydreams about you.

it doesn’t take long to get home, making rindou immediately hop out the car and make his way inside.

he goes upstairs, strips himself of his clothing, and gets right back onto the game.

he makes sure his door is locked so ran can’t barge in again and disturb him.

rindou just hopes ran doesn’t decide to break it down again.

in the middle of his game, rindou gets a text.

he looks down at his phone, squinting in confusion.

[10:47pm] unknown : still up for giving me that massage rin? my back is killing me [10:47pm] unknown : and I can’t do tmrw at 8. maybe breakfast at mine tmrw morning?

rindou’s eyes widened, as he stood up and dropped his brand new controller.

“I got the fucking girl!”

ran heard him from downstairs, immediately making him regret giving you rindou’s number.

[blakbonnet]

AUTHOR OF THE WEEK: @saltpepperbeard

The second featured author of this week is the lovely, loquacious, and truly the best bestie anyone could have: Jodi ♥️ I don't know how she does it but Jodi's fics are fast becoming my most comfortable corner of ao3 to be in because she just has such a way with words, and I do think we should all let her write s3 😌 I also annoyed her into answering some questions for me and sharing her writing process:

What's your writing process like? Do you start with the beginning or the end? Do you write in order or as the scenes come to you?

So I *used* to write sequentially, ie from beginning to end, but the process has gotten more and more chaotic over the years—unhinged, one might say lol! Now, I typically start things off by drafting sections of a story, which ends up being a lot of dialogue more often than not. Like, there are *definitely* some wips in my drafts right now that are almost 100% Stede and Ed talking and nothing else lol (which I mean...staying true to their characters there if you ask me)! Then, if a bit of good description comes to me, I'll pencil that somewhere into the draft, too. And only *then* lol, if things are feeling right and the motivation is feeling high, will I actually attempt to write in sequential order—essentially just playing "fill in the blanks" and writing towards things I've drafted to mix everything all together!

...But sometimes my brain does still fast-forward and write future sections if the good ol' "shower/going to bed daydreams" strike. So it really just depends lol!

My 2014 writing brain, in Ed's voice: You are improving though! Kinda.

Favourite trope or headcanon you like to explore while writing?

...Squints at my tags on AO3 lol. If you see that almost *all* of my stories are hurt/comfort, no you don't <3. I just absolutely adore taking all the hurt Ed and Stede have gone through and soothing it with cuddles, kisses, and soft reassurances. Because man, *man,* have they both been through a lot. It's like Pandora's Box lol; once you start digging into the true depths of their hurt, you just end up with more and more and MORE. There's just so much that they both need and *deserve* to talk through as a crew—or talk through as a "two," as some have said lol, so I adore exploring that. I adore allowing them to have that space and that safety. *Particularly* with Ed getting to unpack things he faced in the earlier parts of Season 2, and with Stede getting to unpack...*anything.*

Also, because I write entirely in-universe, I'm a big fan of implementing some of the common, lovely headcanons. Ie, the crew coming to visit, the two of them maintaining a garden, the British never finding them, etc etc. I know not all of my published works reflect those, but a lot of my drafts do, promise lol!

Whose voice is easier to write - Ed or Stede? Why?

I *still* feel like I'm trying to nail down that ✨ kiwi cadence,✨ not going to lie lol! But, in sitting with this question and sort of going back and forth on it for a while, I think I'm ultimately going to have to land on Stede in most instances. Maybe because I'm one of the ✨ Stede-coded Girlies (gn)✨ , or maybe because I adore Ed so much and subsequently find it easier to gush over him narratively lol! But yeah.

Strangely enough though, I will say I find it easier to write Ed's voice when he's dealing with hurt, vs writing Stede's voice when he's dealing with hurt. I think that's because Ed is more open with his pain, and deals with it in more candid ways, whereas Stede likes to bottle things up and hide. So, it's subsequently harder to crack him open and let out everything that has backed up.

Your personal favourite thing you've written that you'd like more people to read

-Ed voice- Oooowaaaagggh.

Is coming to the table with two stories cheating? Because, I have two lol! I'm very proud of Scrumptious, and also Lovers of Beauty. The former because it was an idea that had been sitting in my head *forever* and I'm so happy it finally got realized, and the latter because it was my first go at writing other characters as well as an exploration of a very particular vein of Ed's hurt. Can't go wrong with Horny Stede and Ed in a dress either, I'd say lol!

What is the one word that you think you use a lot?

Lmao: INTERTWINED. I feel like it's shown up in almost every single story I've written post-season 2, if not *every* single story. I'm just a big fan of throwing their canon quotes in my narration, with the "breathing the same air" and "love letter" speeches getting the most mileage. OH and also Stede's mermaid speech, too; "I'm here. I'm here. You're safe" assuredly gets thrown into the mix as well lol.

Also uhhhh, on a sillier note, I'd definitely say that the good' ol "fuck" gets a lot of usage lol! Ed and I 🤝 enhancing many a sentence with it.

Do you have a beta reader? Have they made you a better writer?

I do not! We die like the Badmintons.

I instead rely on myself for the long and tedious part of my process I call "combing." Ie, going over my last draft with a fine tooth comb to catch typos or any other silliness to the best of my ability.

Would I benefit from a beta reader? Probably, yes. Would I spook from having a beta reader? Probably, yes PFFF. So, combing it is!

Why OFMD 🥹

God, this show. GOD, this show. I just take such a deep and personal comfort in it for so many reasons. I think the two things that snagged me initially were: getting to see queer people just *being,* and getting to see *older* people finding love. The way that this show portrays us in such a natural, lovely light is so, so refreshing. It's like how Taika has often talked about it; there's no triumphant "coming out" type moment, there's no sensationalizing anything, and there's no spotlight on the queerness. It just...*is.* Everyone just loves whoever the hell they want, and there's no questioning or even discussing the implications of that. And I adore that. I adore the *freedom* of that. It just makes the show feel all the more personable and cozier, too.

Also, man, to see older queer people finding love...I'm going to be vulnerable on main here; I don't have a lot of relationship experience, and I'm nearing my 30's. Western Society/Culture puts this *huge* pressure on people to find the love of their life and have it all figured out by their low/mid 20's, so not fitting that norm has been quite the gut stab for me. And yes yes, I know, it's all entirely fabricated and no one has the same timeline, but it still aches to see, particularly when a lot of media portrays love within that age group, if not *younger.*

So, to see these two men nearing *50* finally finding each other after a life of emptiness and pain? To see them finally finding the person who understands them better than anyone else? And to subsequently get the comfort that somewhere, sometime, you'll cross paths with someone who just *gets* you? Ooooagh.

I think that plays into another part of the show that I adore, too. Ie, the theme that "things are going to be okay." That, no matter how dark and dreary things may seem in the moment, you could still have your mermaid moment, and subsequently end up in a cozy little inn with the love of your life. That there's so much kindness and hope and *love* awaiting you.

It's just so comforting on so many levels and I adore it with all my heart. It's a shame that CERTAIN execs and people equivalent will never be able to understand the depth and the importance; they're entirely, truly missing out.

Please head over to @ofmdlovelyletters (who also made the header) and send your love to all your favourite authors (and authors of the week 😈 watch that blog for some special letters coming your way)

[tokkias]

our love (is shining like the stars) There’s love in the stars, or so Lucy says. Natsu thinks that’s true enough—she is a star, after all. ao3

Natsu’s finger draws lines between the stars as he tries to make out the constellation Lucy tells him about. She says something about one that is brighter than the rest, but even as he squints, all he can see are clusters of stars that don’t seem to form any recognisable shape.

“I can’t see it,” he complains.

She pulls herself in closer and grabs his hand so her index finger rests up against his own. Her cheek brushes up against his own as she tries to align their vision as best she can. From there, she draws their hands across the skies.

“Those stars there are Saula and Lesath, and from there you can follow them along the hook of Scorpio’s tail,” she explains. “Do you see it now?”

Even as she talks and guides his hand, he still doesn’t see it.

He’s not looking at the sky; he’s only looking at one star in particular, and she’s lying in the grass right besides him.

“Uh yeah, I think so,” he lies.

She glances over at him, and he’s immediately caught in his lie.

“You’re not even looking!”

“They all look the same to me!” He shoots back.

Lucy, seemingly unhappy with that answer, sticks her bottom lip out in a pout.

It doesn’t matter that she’s upset because she’s still got stars in her eyes and nothing in the sky seems to shine anywhere near as bright.

Gathering that he is simply not going to locate Scorpio in the night sky, Natsu redirects his attention and rolls over, placing his arms on either side of her head as he hovered over her, eliciting a soft squeak from her lips at the sudden action.

Almost immediately, Lucy’s face grows in a pink flush that is only barely visible in the moonlight. He smirks a little at the effect he has on her.

He doesn’t really “get” the whole romance thing—their relationship is practically unchanged from the transition between friends to lovers. She’s still his best friend, only now he knows the taste of her lips and the feeling of her skin under his hands.

He never really cared about the stars anyway, but he cares about her, and that’s why he finds himself out beneath the moonlit sky with her more often than not.

She used to ask if he wanted to come, but now she doesn’t. Not because she doesn’t want him to join her, but because it’s simply assumed at this point.

Sometimes Happy joins them, sometimes he doesn’t. Right now he’s curled up in bed, drawn into sleep long before they left, which gives him an excuse to kiss Lucy all he wants without an echo of how gross they are for kissing right in front of him.

Taking that chance, he leans down and eclipses her lips with his own.

If she’s upset about him blocking her view of the stars, she doesn’t say anything. He assumes she’s not based on the way her fingers drag through his hair, and she kisses him back.

They only part when he runs out of breath, but even then, he only parts so far to rest his forehead against hers.

Her hands come down to rest on his face, palms cradling his cheeks. His eyes sink shut, and he nuzzles into her touch. She could have him practically purring at her touch if she wanted him to.

Slowly, his eyes flutter open, and as if moved by divine intervention, he kisses her again. And again. And again, because he just can’t seem to get enough of her. She giggles between each kiss, and it only urges him on more because the sound of it might just be the best thing he’s ever heard.

He looks down at her adoringly, and she smiles, and he wonders if it’s possible to fall in love all over again.

“You know, when I asked you to come stargazing with me, this isn’t what I meant,” she teases, but he can tell by the look on her face that she’s not too phased.

“But you love it, right?” He grins.

You love me, right? Is what he really means.

“Yeah, I do,” she breathes. “I love you so much.”

[margotoo0]

◇ Huge Sukuna headcanon AU ◇ (cuz I'm crazy)

English is not my native language. It was originally written in Russian, so it is very difficult to translate it correctly, since there are a lot of slangs. And I’m also talking damn nonsense, that’s why.

DO NOT TAKE EVERYTHING WRITTEN SERIOUSLY!!! THIS ALL WAS WRITTEN WHEN THE AUTHOR WAS UNDER METH!!!♡♡♡♡♡

I hope you stay alive and read this to the end.

AU! Our time

Well, what... About the base?

◇About 40-45 years old, mentally - all 70.. (he just tired) No wife, no family, everything is according to the canon.

◇It’s worth paying a little attention to his appearance (Kukukhuhuh):

1) I’ve seen a lot of art on AU Sukuna (I’ve seen a lot, a lot...), I really liked the theme with the patch on the right eye, so let’s take note. Most likely, either he has some problems since birth (Ehehe.. Let’s leave the topic of an unwanted child due to a congenital pathology?))), or he successfully lost it in one of the stabbings (that’s how he met Uraume..)

2) Huge bruises under the eyes. With age, wrinkles also appeared there. The eyes are sleepy, sometimes capillaries burst.

3) His skin is rough and rough. A common problem is peeling; in winter it’s completely out of whack.

4) AQUILINE NOSE (big noses, I like big noses..)

5) He is tall. Very. 190+ exactly. But this is not just a cruise ship, it’s a whole tank. The same guy who is the envy of all natural jocks. Something between a mesomorph, and maybe even an endomorph. The fact itself: there is a lot of muscle, but not dry. In all the right places, as they say...Ahhhhh. I won’t write you the muscle mass ratio and fat percentage, sorry. Where did it come from? Well, look at his true uniform. (Moreover, there were jokes on the Internet that he was on a mass gain after the illustration for the exhibition came out. Eh...They just didn’t deserve him, they were jealous) A strong, good man, I give it a like, without a ticket to my bed. You can consider yourself to have won the genetic lottery. Little nasty bug.

6) It’s obvious that in some places there are scars (a scar on the stomach, where his mouth is, according to the canon), burns... There’s all sorts of things there, in fact.

7) Tattoo? YES!

8) I also saw a couple of heads on Sukuna the boxer, he was included in the heavyweight category. I COMPLETELY AGREE, THIS IS A FACT.

9) In general, he is a typical cat-person. Like..he is so tiger 🐅

10) He also squints often. His gaze is empty, but in his head there is a whole construction site.

====

Okay, I didn’t come up with anything else about appearance, you can figure it out for yourself. Let's go big already.

◇Philosophy of life? Sukuna adheres to that same “hedonism”, EGOISM, that everyone somehow misses when they talk about Sukuna’s philosophy. He doesn’t believe in your metaphysics; sometimes nihilistic tendencies slip through.

◇Remember his hobby? FOOD. And this thing has been preserved. He doesn’t deny himself anything, an ever-meat diet. Proper nutrition? Diets? Wtf, what? He don't know what. But he’s also an eater, he won’t eat everything, he’s very selective. High quality, three Michelin stars. (In general, the topic here is this... In the Heian era, he ate people, right? So, he mainly gave preference to the meat of women and children, since their meat is more tender due to a higher percentage of fat than that of men. Juicy, to be honest)

◇Eh...Would he be Hannibal Lector? Would you eat human flesh? Answer this question yourself. But it's interesting.

◇He has a very specific taste in food

◇What does he do in life? OHHOHO, SO. This is where the juice begins.

Please just keep in mind that this is all a fat joke.

◇We all know very well that Sukuna loves battles, fights, fighting, wars... He loves physical contact very much. Because of this, there is a head that Sukuna could have been involved in wrestling, in particular, boxing or jujitsu, but I have an opinion that Sukuna simply would not have lasted long, or would not have started a career at all. Well, how...

1) If we assume that he was actually involved in wrestling at one time, then his “career” ended after the first major championship at the age of about 20-25 years. In short, everything is simple: during the first round he almost killed his opponent (HAHAHAA), it came to resuscitation. Of course, Sukuna is a tough fighter, but no one expected such meanness. How was he even allowed in? Well, we thought about making money, but Sukuna’s adrenaline was stronger. He never returned to the ring. By some miracle he was not convicted (or rather... They wanted to, but Sukuna was faster). By the way, it must be said that this is not the first time Sukuna has smeared someone on the floor. But for some reason he always got away with it. It didn’t work out here... He wasn’t very upset, to be honest.

Did you think that he would receive penalties cards? No. There are 100% problems with the law. I just decided not to do hardcore.

2) From here I could already talk about the second half of his cheerful life, but I must say that Sukuna, I think, would not go into big sports at all, since it requires a lot of organization, and besides, a lot restrictions. Even MMA is NOT fighting without rules. Elementary. Sukuna has very good stamina, as well as willpower, it’s just... He couldn’t get enough of it. He doesn’t chase fame and success, he’d like to get a thrill from a fight. You can’t just leave training, you can’t do this, you can’t do that. He is simply an excellent virtuoso and improviser who adapts perfectly to the situation, BUT! Only if he WANTS it.

There is a very simple formula: "I can, but I don’t want to. I'm lazy, I'm not interested." Sukuna is not an organized person at all, and if he behaves like this, it is clearly not in good deeds.

3) You can skip this part, but I liked this idea. First I came up with it myself, then I also found headcanons with JJK teachers, everything coincided.

◇It seems to me that Sukuna could become an excellent historian, I don’t know why.. The topic is this: as a cover, he could randomly choose a profession (purely because his history was going well, but he had already improved his dorm life, when he was detained in the police stations for several days)

◇He doesn’t believe in God, but God believes in him, so Sukuna passed the exams well. As I say, he very smart and capable, if only I had the desire.

◇ I’ll quickly go over it:

1) I didn’t want to teach at a university, but at a college - why not. He doesn't like teenagers, but he likes to mock them.

2) He is constantly late for lectures. He swore at his directors when they put the history first. As a result, on Thursday the history is only 50 minutes long.

3) We must give him credit, he talks SO INTERESTINGLY, it’s just crazy. Here you will either listen with your mouth open, or fall asleep to his voice (sorry, I couldn’t resist, phew. In this case, he will come up and knock on the head, like “Who’s there?”) 😭😭😭 (AZAHAZPH)

4) He talks like he went to Moscow with Napoleon, then he judged the Decembrists, then he was in Petrograd at the revolution, then he and Stalin thought about how to defeat the browns, and he also sat together with Goering at Nuremberg... I think there’s no need to even mention the process of battles in the Second World War. He wrote everything down in a notebook while he was in the trench. In general, it's tough.

5) Despite all the charm of the above, he has a terrible memory for dates, so even his students don’t bother with it.

6) Do you want a test? Buy him an expensive bottle of red wine, then he MAYBE will consider your offer (yes, of course he will, he’s just showing off, he’s not interested in that at all)

7) After the first month, the students began to suspect something. You know, mysterious, like a perfume set (russian proverb). Like that same physical education teacher who always hangs out in the back room (local joke...). The smart ones guess, but the smartest ones have already made inquiries, they just remain silent, since Sukuna, in fact, is respected and feared by teenagers (in a good way). It’s a pity that the love is not particularly mutual...Uh.

In general, you understand. But what does he do anyway? He became a teacher in order to divert attention from himself. Decent citizen, but is just some kind of grouch <3

It's time for us to go into his natural environment. Crime)

Here everything is based on:

1. Pleasure, risk

2. Money. Just to live large.

It all started with Uraume (here also Uraume is “they”, so you can consider it either a man or a woman. Whatever you want). According to the canon, Uraume is a cook. It’s the same here, but with a surprise.. In general, Uraume “cooks”, and in Russian, he makes interesting preparations...)))(EMHAJAJAJJAAHPA0, WHAT IS THE PLOT OF “BREAKING BAD”, AZAHAHAHCH I’M DEAD Okay, just give me a chance)

◇Sukuna knew his comrades so well that he learned about Ura’s affairs only after 8-9 years of acquaintance (Forgive him).

◇In short, Uraume cooks well, and also studied at the chemistry department. Uraume had a purely monetary question; they didn’t use their own product (and I don’t advise you to, otherwise you’ll later invent such garbage like I did)

◇ – What is this? - What do you think? Sukuna narrowed his eyes. - And you decided not to tell me about it? - And I didn’t hide it. Just why extra attention to yourself? There was silence in the room. - Listen... - Sukuna, don't- - LET ME FINISH. ◇ Uraume had no options.

◇Every drug dealer needs his own "sportik" (This is what we call those who punish or kill people who hide drugs). Well, you understand, right...?

◇Well, that’s how it started to spin and spin. Moreover, it was Sukuna who opened the doors to the darkest places. Accordingly, he himself stood up very quickly, and even the dog would not dare to growl. Hello, black market. The only problem is hiding all this from the police + there is not enough imagination on how to launder the money, but the business itself is going well and wonderful. Sukuna also managed to be a hired killer in the dark spaces. He lives a very happy life, he likes it. Finally able to use fighting skills. Hooray.

◇ Sukuna once even showed interest in “cooking” while watching Uraume. You will be shocked, but he does a great job. Wow.

◇Well, not really. It seems to me that Sukuna is either a pure humanist, or with an admixture of biology and chemistry (everything was reinforced there along the way). But algebra, geometry, physics - well, no. I was ready to fight to the death with one guy from the faculty of Physics and Mathematics, because they stood and proved what is generally more important in life. I think his name was Gojo...I don't know.

◇ The only thing he can do from this is count money and interest.

◇The same person who will walk into the room, be silent for 5 minutes, and then sigh and “I, you know, what I think...”. He will tell you the whole course of philosophy, and then he will also express his opinion. I advise you to remain silent, not breathe loudly and listen carefully.

◇Law of the universe: if Sukuna is nearby, then with a 99% probability something will fall, break... Or maybe someone...

◇ Law of the universe: if Sukuna is nearby, then with a 99% probability something will fall, break, or break. Or maybe someone..

◇MAKE IT TO THE HIGH FASHION! He really knows how to dress with taste. You can’t tell from him, since Sukuna, like Tyler Durden, destroys everything, but he still understands art, aesthetics and style. And you will find out this in a completely unexpected way.

◇“Combining green and yellow in the interior? What squalor...”

“Mmm... Like Baroque”

◇Prefers dark and deep colors: black, burgundy, red, emerald, purple, ocher, etc.

◇ He loves Japanese painting on clothes, although most often he wears plain ones. But he has one or two kimonos. How is this painting technique... Yuzen?

◇Despite the fact that he has large hands and fingers, he has well-developed fine motor skills (a useful skill))

◇Doesn’t go to the GYM and makes fun of those who go there. Real men should knock out brains and teeth! (He just somehow saw that Gojo and Yuji’s change were going to the gym. That’s where it came from)

◇He, of course, could become some kind of powerlifter, since his physical capabilities allows it, but he doesn’t want to. Does he even want anything other than to kill and ruin the lives of others? (NO)

◇He met Kenjaku through Uraume

◇Sukuna calls Kenjaku a freak and a pervert (f*cked, to be more precise) because of his strange humor (Believe me, Sukuna is not far off, like...Kenjaku jokes about necr0philia, and Sukuna about cannibalism)

◇ I sleep and see: two grandfathers are sitting and trying to tell jokes. Only Uraume is unfunny...

◇Sukuna has some problems with sleep, and it doesn’t matter whether he sleeps a lot or a little, 3 hours or 12. He often dozes. (Sleepy kitty)

◇ Head from school: Sukuna had no friends at all before college, and there’s no point in talking about friends. One against all, all against one. In the last year of study, he changed place of study because he almost threw a classmate out of the window, and he also received a concussion.

◇He hated team games. Do you get upset when you are accused of playing poorly and causing your team to lose? Pf. In the first few games, Sukuna deliberately threw the ball anywhere, and he himself took it away from his team, passing it to another. And it makes no difference which team.

◇ He was not respected, he was feared. And rightly so, they were afraid. He could really kill

◇In fact, his social skills are poorly developed, he simply does not consider it necessary. In college, he got involved with Uraume, and that was enough for him. Cosy.

◇By the way, according to the canon there is no wife or children, it’s the same story. We must pay tribute - he did not touch women, unless he killed them when it was necessary for “work”. Sukuna himself is a very attractive man, but 85% of women were afraid of him, the remaining 15% tried to somehow flirt with him, start communicating, but Sukuna 🤨❓️ then showed such contempt that these women developed complexes for the rest of their lives.

◇ He never took call women (prost|tute), he is above that. He generally has the vibe “woman, keep your hands to yourself”, “don’t embarrass yourself” ◇ He can respect you if:

A) You are very smart

B) You are very strong

C) A and B together

He will definitely praise you if he finds you something interesting about you and your business (unless you are Yuji)

◇You can challenge him, just don’t be too stubborn, keep silent again, otherwise your new accessory will become a crutch.

◇I remembered the phrase of one man: “It doesn’t matter whether you are a woman or a man, I will beat you the same way.” This is he.

◇HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT ANYONE. This is a constant. Will never take responsibility for another person. The only thing he will do is solve Uraume's problems, or just see how people cope. Independence is the key to a good relationship with Sukuna.

◇Content is content, but let's be honest, according to the canon, Sukuna is a very selective frame. This one is boring and not interesting, but this one is weak, and this one is annoying. In general, you won't please. I don't believe that Sukuna could fall in love with someone at all. It's amazing how most of the people here portray him in fanfiction. Well, he wouldn’t start this “subdue and rule” thing, he would immediately take your head off your shoulders. You should be on an equal footing with him, if not superior. Of course, he will fight for dominance, but he definitely values both physical and mental strength. In this regard, absolutely adequate and objective. The most important thing is to have something to praise for. And when someone crawl on their knees in front of him...Why the hell do you doing, you rag? We figured it out.

◇ At one time he used headphones very often, almost 24/7. Moreover, he turned it on purely for the background, without any purpose.

◇In general, he has no goals, only a path. And he does the right thing.

◇Frequent periods of “I don’t want anything, I won’t do anything.”

◇He has 2 states: either he does nothing AT ALL, sits on his ass, or he is a nightmare to everything and everyone.

◇He knows how to speak civilly, but only during some important negotiations. He himself is taciturn, sometimes he makes some obscene remarks. But once every few months he can give out some beautiful poetic remark. You hit the jackpot (“Moonlight helps me to see better how pathetic you are.” Oh, what a romantic)

◇He doesn’t like sweets, but it seems to me that he would like oriental sweets..Turkish delight)

◇A fan of Japanese and Kazakh food

◇He smells of "oldspice", heavy cologne, tobacco and sweat.

◇If he were an animal, he would definitely be a tiger. One big cat. Predatory, but with grace. Just like that.

◇He rarely responds to messages, but if he does, he gives out such a bunch of text, just so that you get tired of reading it all. He writes very quickly. But then again, in real life he's just quiet and grumpy.

◇A bunch of bad habits. It’s just one bad habit (but we’re not going to give it up, right?)

◇Gege Akutami once mentioned that he liked the performance of K-POP group MAMAMOO, in particular, Hwasa was the main shock. In short, if Yuji likes Jennifer Lawrence, then Sukune’s fatal luxury is Hwasa (I just really love this woman myself). He doesn’t listen to K-pop, he just likes her (hips don’t lie, friends..)

◇He would listen to either rock/heavy metal. I can also bet on darkwave, experimental, or maybe something with traditional Japanese motifs. Or maybe even a classic. Who knows..

◇He constantly carries all sorts of chewing gum with him.

◇It seems to me that he is one of those very people to whom you will say: “I went *somewhere*”, will not glance at you, and will remain sitting on the sofa. But after 30 minutes of your journey you will feel that something is wrong..(he is trailing behind you). Cause? He's bored.

◇ His main mission in life is to scare people until their hearts stop. No, just imagine: you’re standing in the kitchen, not bothering anyone, and suddenly a 2-meter big guy squints and slowly picks up a knife. And then he begins to walk towards you with a medium step. Your actions? (Spoiler: subway surf begins) And for realism, it will even leave a cut on your back. <33333 I luv this man sm

◇He clearly has some kind of jokes with physical contact. Pinches, pokes. Bruises are guaranteed.

◇110% organized all sorts of underground fight clubs.

That's all. The fantasy is over. I caught the cringe and laughed. It was fun and enjoyable.

Thanks

[mc-lukanette]

Coccaerus often went out on late-night patrols, not so much for patrol itself but for the atmosphere. Tikki always talked about "not using miraculouses for personal reasons," but if he could hide soaking in the nighttime ambiance of Paris underneath a "need to patrol," it tended to work for him.

It was a typical night out with no akuma and an overall quiet Paris when he heard a voice shout-whispering his name, perhaps in an attempt to not wake anyone up. He stopped, perched on top of a chimney, and stared out towards the source of the voice.

There was a girl standing on a balcony illuminated with fairy lights, seemingly trying to wave him down. She didn't look to be in any sort of trouble, though he was aware that whatever she was trying to call him over for could still be serious.

Turning fully towards her, he took a few more leaps across the rooftops to head for her. She backed up accordingly, allowing him to easily drop down. His feet landed lightly enough upon landing so as to not cause any loud noises.

"Hello," he greeted. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she reassured, then corrected with her hands raised, "I-I mean, yes, something's wrong, but not with me! With you!"

He blinked.

"Ah—just—" She sighed into her hands, any anxiety apparently draining out of her in exchange for exasperation at herself. She turned to the nearby table, picked up a box, and held it out to him with her arms fully outstretched. "Here?"

He stared in confusion for a long moment, as if it would allow him to figure out what she was referring to. When that failed, he took it in his hands, immediately noticing the warmth seeping into his fingers. When he cracked it open, a fresh, savory scent hit his nose, and he saw what looked like a recently prepared lunch.

When he looked at her for an explanation, she admitted, "I-I don't know how old you are, but... there was an akuma at my school around lunchtime and you had to take care of it. I thought that maybe you didn't get to eat lunch because it took so long to deal with it, so..." She gestured vaguely at the box. "I-it's important to eat..."

Coccaerus gaped at her. He'd seen people try to get his attention for autographs, interviews, and sometimes for legitimate help, but never someone who was actually looking out for him. It'd never particularly bothered him, yet knowing that he was cared about warmed his heart immensely.

"Fifteen," he caught himself saying.

"H-hm?"

...Tikki didn't have to know.

"I'm fifteen."

She gasped. "That's so young! Well, not younger than me, I'm Marinette—I mean, I'm thirteen! But..."

"Thank you, Marinette." He beamed at her. "I did have to skip lunch actually, so this is great."

"Oh, it's nothing! Thank you!" She clasped her hands together at her waist, looking proud of herself. "It's nothing compared to what you do as a superhero, so..."

"That's not true. Everyone has a part to play." He smiled, raising the box up for emphasis. "Things like this keep me going."

"Really?" She looked down at the box questioningly, a hand on her chin. Then, suddenly on alert, she realized, "I forgot silverware!"

Before Coccaerus could comment, she hurried to the skylight nearby and got down. He was fairly certain that she'd slipped on the way, but heard the sound of a soft landing, perhaps on a mattress.

Eventually, she emerged again with a set of silverware, placing it neatly inside the box and squinting in contemplation at her work. He was about to thank her when she hurried away once more, this time with a desperate cry of, "Napkins!"

He could faintly hear more rambling about how his reputation as a superhero would be ruined if they saw him with bits of food on his hands, calling him names, and blasting him all over the news for his lack of manners.

He covered his mouth with his free hand, biting back giggles. She was so incredibly concerned for him and it was adorable.

With energy worthy of a superhero, Marinette returned at lightning speed with a pack of napkins in hand. He took them appreciatively and carefully placed them in one of his suit pockets, out just slightly so he could grab one if needed.

"...Wait! I didn't even think of allergies! Are you—"

He didn't wait any longer to pick up the fork to take a bite. Marinette stared with wide eyes, like she expected him to actually have an allergic reaction, but he just smiled due to not being able to answer with a full mouth.

"This is really good," he said after swallowing, pointing to the food with his fork. He took a few more bites to prove he meant it before wondering aloud, "Did you make it?"

"M-mhm." She nodded, blushing faintly at the praise. "It's not as good as Maman's but I followed the recipe as best as I could. I had to try and taste test it a couple times to make sure it was right."

"See?" he asked. When she did not, in fact, see, he clarified, "People like you remind me why I save Paris. Doing it because it's the right thing to do sounds nice in a song, but it's better to remember the kind of people you're doing it for, and that's a lot harder out in public."

Her expression went from flattered to concerned. "Why's that?" Then, a second later, "Um, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"It's okay." He looked around for a place to sit, and although Marinette offered him her lounge chair, he opted to get down on both knees near the table. For one, he didn't want to take the only chair, and for two, it would've been uncomfortable eating while lounging back.

Marinette looked ready to protest, but accepted and got down as well, leaning with one arm propped up on the table to listen to him.

He opened his mouth to start, realizing belatedly that he'd never really talked about it before. Parisians usually didn't ask how he was and there was no one he could really talk to as Coccaerus.

"You know Jagged Stone, right?" he asked.

"Oh, of course!" She beamed. She really had forgotten about trying to be quieter the moment he got onto her balcony. "He's my favorite!"

He smiled. "Mine too. He's a rock star who never apologizes for being himself. He talks in interviews about how the people he works with try to change him or try to control him like he's a rock star first and a person second."

"Ah," Marinette uttered in realization, "so no one treats you like a person?"

He nodded. "They want to know everything about me, but not to make me more human to them. They want to know about my love life with other heroes, or when I'll make my next mistake so they can broadcast it to the world."

"B-but that's not fair!" She straightened her back, gesturing wildly at nothing in particular. "You're always saving people! Why shouldn't they respect you?"

"Because I can't not save them," he pointed out, "or I'd be letting my feelings get in the way of the job."

She averted her gaze, annoyed. "A job would mean that you get paid..."

He chuckled even though he knew it wasn't funny. He could've told her about Tikki and the "not using your miraculous for personal reasons" rule, but talking about kwami was definitely overstepping a boundary.

"Isn't it scary too?" Marinette asked worriedly. "You fight all those monsters, and you're the one who has to fix everything. I mean, you always look so confident, so probably not, but—"

"It's scary," he confirmed.

"W-what?"

"All the time. You never know when there'll be another akuma, or whether you'll be able to win or not. You just have to be ready and do your best."

Marinette's hand shook against her chest and he had the sudden urge to reach out and reassure her.

"T-then, how do you do it? How do you put yourself out there like that?"

Something about her phrasing told him that this was about more than just akumas all of a sudden. After having heard her song for long enough, it had similar chords to Juleka's.

"Have you ever played an instrument, Marinette?"

"Hm?" She tilted her head. "No, I haven't."

"It takes a lot of time, even if you want it, and it's easy for people to laugh when you hit a bad note."

"Ugh," she groaned. "Don't I know it..."

He smiled sadly, wondering what she'd been through and glad that she wasn't in his shoes. He was lucky enough to be as sure of himself as he was when he got the ladybug miraculous, because he couldn't imagine what the immense pressure and sudden labeling of "celebrity" would do to someone like her.

"But you can hold onto what you're passionate about and use that to motivate you, or find someone that you want to play for."

She rubbed the back of her neck, uncertain. "What if I'm not any good at it? Or what if I am, but people still laugh anyway?"

"I think it's enough just to try. You never even have to play for anyone if you don't want to. You can play for yourself, or only do warm-ups." He stared at her fondly. "And if you ask me, your song is already great as it is; do any better and you could charm a snake halfway across the world."

"H-hey!"

She said it in such a way that it almost sounded like she was offended rather than flustered, but he meant it. He was even looking confident about the compliment as well, at least until his fork hit the bottom of the box he'd been eating out of.

He'd been unconsciously eating whenever he wasn't talking and hadn't noticed until now.

Marinette's beautiful laughter suddenly rang out, making him look back up. "You—hah, you look so disappointed!"

He made a show of pouting, but couldn't hold it forever and laughed too. "I meant it. It was really good!"

They calmed down soon enough and smiled at each other. Though, now that he'd officially finished what she'd called him down for, he no longer had a reason to stick around. Anything further would be stalling for time, but that didn't stop him from pulling out the napkins and wiping his hands clean of food that wasn't there.

"Um," Marinette spoke up, leaning over the table to slide the box closer to her. "I'll take care of this."

He nodded in appreciation, dropping the napkins inside and pushing himself up. "Thanks again, Marinette. I..." It pained him to say it. "...I should really go. It's getting late."

She nodded back to him. "It is! And you should! Because—" She hit the table for effect. "Because superheroes are people and people need to sleep!"

She was already making it harder to go; she really was adorable.

"You're a person too," he reminds her.

"Oh," she replied, like she either forgot or realized that now she'd have to go to bed as well else she contradicts herself.

Giving her one last smile, Coccaerus turned to walk over to the railing. He was just about to climb on and jump away when his wrist was snagged.

"Wait!"

He looked over his shoulder, noting the urgency in Marinette's eyes. She was less shy this time, staring at the floor of her balcony but voice unwavering when she spoke.

"If you ever need someone to be a person around, you can always come here." She peeked up at him, somewhat embarrassed but insisting, "I'll even get another lounge chair."

His heart skipped a beat, confirming something that he'd been wondering about since she handed him that lunch. She even knew that he hadn't picked the lounge chair for a reason other than not wanting to sit on it, without him saying so.

"Yeah." he said, then repeated with more conviction, "Yeah, I'll come by. Definitely."

If his face felt a little hot as he hopped away, imagining the soft smile on her face when they'd exchanged goodbyes, Tikki didn't need to know.

[noxexistant]

Do you have any snippets of any wip that you’re writing atm?

oh anon, this is literally my favourite thing to be asked, i love getting to post writing without finishing it. anon, i am kissing you on the forehead.

here are some opening passages from some of my current wips <3 hopefully they will suffice

—

Oscar wakes up to quiet, ragged breathing.

“What?” he croaks, before any part of his brain has really caught up. Instinct, muscle memory. “Wha’s wrong, Mo? C’mere.”

Morris doesn’t, so Oscar forces himself somewhat upright, haphazardly kicking the too-thick hotel comforter off of him as he does, squinting through the darkness. He searches for Morris in the room - he’s not in his bed beside Oscar’s - and finds him huddled and pacing near the door to the bathroom. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, rocking, and Oscar can see he’s maybe trying to do a breathing exercise. It’s clearly not working. He’s tapping out the rhythm against his arm, the count of four for box breathing, but he’s counting it fast and sloppy - more a restless, uneven taptaptaptap than a loose count of four seconds.

“What happened?” Oscar asks, as gently as he can when his voice sounds like sandpaper. “D’you have a bad dream? Mo, c’mere.”

—

Morris is fighting tonight.

Tommy Boy only knows because he’s heard whispers. Apparently, Morris and Oscar had had some big blow-up argument about it last night, which a few of the boys loitering outside the warehouse after all the fights had long ended had overheard. Oscar don’t like Morris fighting, usually don’t let him at all, so Tommy’d outright doubt Morris getting into the ring - if it weren’t for the fact he knows damn well that Morris can’t be talked down from nothing he’s set his mind to. And Oscar might be a stubborn bastard even worse than Morris, and overprotective as all hell, but he’s also a pushover for his little brother. It ain’t often that Morris kicks up a fuss for nothing, but, when he does, he gets his way; so, if he’s wanting to fight, he’ll be fighting.

—

Oscar’s got a job today.

He’d only told Morris yesterday, but had sworn when he’d said it that he’d only just found out - ‘cause he usually tells Morris about stuff like that as early as possible, to try and avoid Morris freaking out about it.

Uncle had just sprung it on him that morning, Oscar’d said, told him he had to go…somewhere, Morris can’t remember where, but it ain’t nowhere close. Nowhere outside of the city, but nowhere near Manhattan neither. There’s probably someone to soak, almost definitely some money to take for Uncle’s benefit, so Oscar’s getting sent over to do the dirty work - and Morris ain’t being sent with him because Uncle don’t much like the two of them together anymore. He’d told Morris that he was needed at the gates, had to keep things running ‘cause Oscar’d be missing, but Morris knows that ain’t true because Uncle always says he’s useless at the gates.

Honestly, Morris hadn’t really understood what the big deal was, why both Os and Uncle were being so weird, until Oscar’d looked worried and crouched closer and explained slow that going so far meant he’d be gone all day. From before morning sales to late at night, probably, so he’d miss afternoon sales too, and dinner, and bedtime, not just one sale like he does sometimes.

Uncle had threatened to throw his half-full coffee cup at Morris then, because he’d suddenly found himself unable to breathe and Uncle hates the sound of his choking sort of wheezing when he can’t get air into his lungs.

[rachalixie]

a smile worth a thousand words

you can tell the story of falling in love with jeongin through his smiles

warnings: jeongin x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff

word count: 950+

a/n: this was for a very cute ask from an anon asking for a fic about loving innie’s smiles!!! which i do. everyone should.

you can tell the story of falling in love with yang jeongin through his smiles. you can talk about his smile all day, the straightness of his perfect white teeth, the plushness of his pink lips, the crinkles around his foxy eyes. you have them organized by type, itemized in chronological order by how you’ve gotten to know them the more you know him.

first came his shy, timid smile. the smile you got when you first met him, a little awkward around the edges but sweet nonetheless. you were introduced by one of your mutual friends, and you were surprised that you hadn’t met earlier considering you ran in the same circles. when he first meets your eyes you swear you could see sparks from the intensity of his stare, but he looks down quickly, with that gentle smile on his face.

it’s the smile that’s present the second and third and fourth time you see him, he’s so preciously bashful and you find it so sweet of him. he’s a true gentleman, always opening doors for you and offering to drive you home and bringing you coffee once he learns your order. you know he’s hiding something snarky under that innocent face of his, but for now you’re content with getting to look at his angelic face whenever you see him because even that is a treasure to you.

the next one you get to see is his cheeky smile when he teases his friends. the more you hang out with him and his friends, the more you notice the subtle differences in his expressions. the latest was the teasing grin he would give felix or seungmin or hyunjin when he was messing with them, and that was often. being the youngest of the group, he got away with a lot, including making his hyungs his figurative punching bags for his biting humor and sharp sarcasm. instead of getting reprimanded, he just got laughs and coos, causing him to laugh along with squinted eyes and a crinkled nose. he always makes you feel welcome and included, bringing you into his jokes and making you a culprit right alongside him. you end these nights with a throat that’s sore from laughing too hard, usually.

when he laughs like this you can see his dimples peeking out a bit, but they never come out in full. he never lets himself go around you enough to give you that full blown smile with dimples cratering his cheeks, he’s still nervous. but you know it’s there, you want to unlock it and learn every expression that his handsome face makes. you’re no different than him though, tripping over your words and sometimes your feet when you’re near him because he’s just so handsome, you know? and charismatic. and funny. you could go on and on, the point being he makes you nervous.

the next smile you were graced with was his giggly smile where his teeth are all showing. your absolute favorite look on him is when he’s full blown laughing, at a movie or at his friends’ expense or at anything, really. his mouth opens wide and you can see all of his teeth, his eyes almost closed by how hard he’s straining. it’s an expression of pure happiness, one of the most wonderful things you’ve ever had the pleasure to witness.

you feel blessed to finally be able to see this carefree, open version of him. you become almost obsessed with making him laugh just so you can see and hear it happen. the more you fall for him, the more material he gives you to fall over. it’s a vicious cycle that you never want to end, you want to collect every piece of information about him and every single smile in his repertoire and hide it in your pocket for only you to see.

the one that took you off guard the most was his smirk when he’s flirting. on occasions when you found yourself alone with him (or alternatively, occasions where you’ve both had a couple drinks and were more loose than usual), he took every opportunity to flirt with you. you could tell the difference between his friendly, open smile that he gave you on usual days and the sharp, cat-like smirk he would don during these times. he would crowd into your space, broad shoulders blocking your view of anything but him, and look at you with dark eyes, a quirked eyebrow, and pink lips twisted to the side in a smirk.

it’s the smile you ultimately kiss away once the rubber band of tension inside you snaps and you can’t hold yourself back any longer. he responds enthusiastically, and the rest is history. when you pull away, he’s breathless and a bit shocked, but you’re beaming and you wonder if he’s been collecting your smiles the way you’ve been collecting his.

the last, and admittedly your favorite, smile is his blinding beam with his dimples showing. it was only once you started dating that he loosened up around you to show you his fondest smile. the one where it takes up his entire face, lips stretched from ear to ear, dimples so deep you could lose yourself in them. it took a while for him to let you see this side of him; he didn’t truly open up to you until the first night you spent in his bed, when he looked up at you with stars in his eyes and that soft, blinding grin gracing his features.

it’s the purest expression of love that you’ve ever seen, it’s like you’re looking up straight into the sun, and you can’t help but mutter an i love you to him, facing him in bed. he reaches up to brush some hair out of your face and whispers an i love you back.

—

masterlist

taglist: @daceyena @isilentprincess @woahfruity @chvnnie @katieraven @agustd-essert @chanssmiles @sweetestcherrywine @foivetimesacharm @sstarryoong

[thegeminisage]

one of many reasons castiel spent the first year of knowing dean trying not to strangle him: dean's weird little winchester-only dialect

i’m fucking obsessed with this right now, so buckle in for a meta. a cool fun (horrible) thing about dean's dialogue is that a good 90% of what comes out of his mouth is:

a pop culture reference ("you're just gonna take some divine bong hit, and shazam, you're roma downey?")

references to real life phenomenon ("i don't wanna wake up missing a kidney in a bathtub full of ice" "try new mexico, i hear he’s on a tortilla")

these also often take the form of nicknames, and dean has a tendency to give people nicknames in general or call them something besides their given name, whether it’s affectionate or rude ("easy there, van damme" "so i’m girl interrupted" furthermore castiel = cas, ezekiel = zeke, etc, see also frequent use of "chucklehead" "asshat" and on the nicer/endearments end "buddy" "pal" "sunshine" etc)

an idiom ("a snowball's chance" "if it smells like a duck...")

slang ("drinking the koolaid" "jonesing for some hooch" not to mention the literal endless amount of words dean uses to refer to killing - gank, waste, juice, ice, etc)

a metaphor ("power up your batteries" "fly me back to my page on the calendar")

a euphemism ("cloud seeding" "i'd have given you an hour alone with her first")

sarcasm (his habit of replying "peachy" or "super" when asked how he is)

wordplay (see: the entire "vampirate" and "werepire" debacles)

completely nonsensical (guessing what happened to a magical artifact: "it was dug up by tomb raiders? it was seized by the king of the dead by warlords?")

said at lightning speed - if you pay attention, dean actually talks a LOT, usually a mile a minute (this makes me feel a way when you recall him being nonverbal for a year at age 4 but that’s another post)

slang IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE (casual usage of “guano,” etc)

a lie, a deflection, a joke, etc

or worse, something dean’s NOT saying, deliberately, because he’s one of the most repressed people on earth

the end result of all this being:

dean winchester is utterly infuckingcomprehensible. 

think about this. there's an ENTIRE SECTION on EVERY SINGLE EPISODE PAGE of the spn wiki devoted to JUST explaining dean's pop culture references, because the average viewer won't have seen everything he's talking about either. they have a whole page for this called “hunter’s lingo,” but honestly, it’s not all hunters, just sam and dean’s fucking batshit communication style. even i don't understand dean half the time. SAM gets it, sam speaks it back to dean a lot in the early seasons, but that's because sam and dean are 1. practically two halves of the same person 2. FREAKS. every time we get an episode that involves outsider POV is devoted to them going "what the fuck is WRONG with them?"

enter castiel. technically speaking, the show implies that angels are omnilingual. castiel should understand every language known to man, but knowing the meaning of words doesn't help him understand the following:

pop culture references

references to real life phenomenon

nicknames

idioms

slang

metaphors

euphemisms

sarcasm

wordplay

you get the idea.

listen to me. look me in the eyes. castiel cannot understand a single fucking word that comes out of dean's mouth. my guy laid a hand on dean winchester in hell and immediately fell in love with him and has no fucking idea what he's talking about ever. because not only is dean winchester's way of speaking CLINICALLY insane, and sometimes incomprehensible even to other human beings who are not sam, castiel is an angel, and someone prone to taking things even more literally than other angels do

go back and watch and watch seasons 4-5 especially. the reason cas does so much squinting and head tilting is because every time dean opens his mouth castiel has to open up his mental "dean winchester dictionary" and translate entire paragraphs on the fly, because again, dean never shuts up!

what makes this extra hilarious to me is this gem:

this line is from 5.13. at this point cas has known dean for AN ENTIRE YEAR AND A HALF. what you see here is my guy SNAPPING. cas made an EFFORT in this scene. he asked who glenn close was. he's telling dean that he can't understand him. he is doing his level best to have a normal conversation with this guy he has a crush on and for the life of him he cannot do it (equal but opposite energy to cas blowing up the gas station and motel room in 4.01, tbh)

yes, cas can understand dean's tone. he can use context clues, and he usually gets the general idea. and when cas DOES understand dean's jokes, he laughs at them. the first time we ever see him smile is during their 4.07 heart-to-heart when dean says "it was a witch, not the tet offensive." since cas has knowledge of human history, he knows what the tet offensive is; he got the joke, and he laughed.

but as far as actual dialogue goes, he consistently struggles to keep up. even after metatron gives castiel the pop culture knowledge in season 9, cas struggles to put it to put it to proper use (dean: "you wanna just walk right into the death star?" cas: "what does a fictional battle station have to do with this?"). whenever he asks dean to clarify it's always when he’s most annoyed, like most of the time he knows it would be futile but he's too annoyed to care. (dean: "i don't know who's on first, what's on second!" cas: "what IS second???") i’m pretty sure he spends seasons 4-6 wanting to shake dean by the shoulders and ask him why he is LIKE THIS. 

it takes cas - who, again, is omnilingual - YEARS to begin to acclimate to dean’s speech and start speaking that language back to him. it's season 8 before we start really hearing him use slang, season 9 before he begins to understand wordplay, season 10 before he starts using pop culture references (to other angels, who immediately fail to understand him, which disappoints him immensely), and season 11 before he really gets into metaphors. i don't remember what season he started using "yeah" instead of "yes" but i do know it took a really damn long time. 

and honestly, i don't think cas truly got the hang of it until at least season 11-12. that's something like 7 or 8 YEARS. it’s more than half the time they’ve known each other at the point of the series finale. 

so what's true romance, fellas? it's falling completely and totally in love with the most inexplicable person you will ever meet in your whole 4.5 billion year life, even though you have yet to understand a single thing he's ever said to you. thank you for coming to my ted talk

[spn masterpost]

[robininthelabyrinth]

I'm absolutely delighted your prompts are open! Your writing is amazing and always makes me smile, it's the best way to start the day along with a cup of coffee!

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are given another chance at raising a child after a family is killed leaving only a young child behind. Lan Sizhui is delighted to have a baby sibling. Though everyone is more or less nervous about it (mostly be Wei Ying is a gremlin) but also there isn't any other options.

ao3

“It’ll be fine,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “Hanguang-jun raised Lan Sizhui, didn’t he? And he turned out fine.”

“I did,” Lan Sizhui said agreeably, then frowned. “I think I did, anyway.”

“Not to be a spoilsport, but, realistically speaking, how much raising did Hanguang-jun actually do with you?” Jin Ling asked, and held up his hands when Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi both glared at him. “I don’t mean any offense or anything! I’m serious. We know he was in seclusion those first few years, right? Who raised you then?”

Lan Sizhui thought about it. “Back in the beginning? Well…that was mostly Teacher Lan, I guess.”

“Teacher Lan’s the best,” Lan Jingyi said loyally, then added, “Well, other than that fondness he has for surprise quizzes. But that’s not applicable to parenting, is it?”

Lan Sizhui made a face that suggested that maybe it was, in some weird way, shape, or form.

“Teacher Lan, really?” Jiang Cheng asked, clearly getting drawn in despite his best intentions – as was often the case. There was a reason their little group swung by the Lotus Pier nearly as often as they did the Cloud Recesses and Jinlin Tower, despite Jin Ling not living there part of the year any longer. “Wasn’t he mostly in recovery for those injuries he got during the war? I would’ve figured Zewu-jun would’ve been more involved, wouldn’t he?”

“He was around sometimes, but no, it was mostly Teacher Lan,” Lan Sizhui said. “Zewu-jun was often busy – he was rebuilding the Lan sect –”

“I was rebuilding the Jiang sect! So what? I still raised Jin Ling, and he wasn’t even supposed to be here – I had to fight the Jin sect for months just to get the opportunity – ”

“Yes, jiujiu, we know!” Jin Ling said hastily. “You don’t have to tell that story again! You didn’t have to tell everyone that story in the first place!”

Jiang Cheng huffed. He was probably going to tell the story again whether they liked it or not.

“I think I see what you’re saying, Jin Ling,” Ouyang Zizhen put in, always a good fellow for throwing himself on a conversational sacrificial sword. “If Lan Sizhui was already a few years old when he was adopted, and then Teacher Lan raised him for the next three years, then he would’ve been old enough to be entered into the Cloud Recesses’ official junior classes by the time Hanguang-jun took charge of his education, right?”

“Yes, that’s what I meant, that’s it exactly!”

“What does it matter?” Lan Sizhui asked.

“Yeah! Hanguang-jun still raised him the rest of the way,” Lan Jingyi put in, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring. “Gave him lessons and tips and all that!”

“Isn’t that something he does as a sect senior anyway?”

“Well, yes, but it’s different for Sizhui, okay?”

“I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with that. After all, the person who teaches the most is the same as the parent, and being the person raising them is what matters no matter when they’re adopted,” Jin Ling said, with an eye on Jiang Cheng, who looked begrudgingly pleased. He looked begrudging all the time, though, so it was probably just pleased. “But my point is – once you were part of the lessons, even if he was raising you the rest of the time, you still already mostly had your personality down by then, right? We’ve never seen what someone raised entirely by Hanguang-jun from birth would be like.”

They all stopped to consider that.

“More than that,” Jin Ling continued. “This kid’ll be raised not just by Hanguang-jun, but by Hanguang-jun as he is now – after he and Senior Wei got together. You know?”

They did know.

“And of course, that’s all putting aside that the kid will be raised by Senior Wei himself, too…”

“Maybe we should start investing in defense talismans,” Jiang Cheng mused. “Because everything is going to explode. Everything.”

-

“Everything will not explode,” Lan Wangji said calmly.

“Are you sure?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Because I’m not sure, and I’m more likely to be involved in these hypothetical explosions than you are.”

“Mm. I’m certain.”

“But…”

“Wei Ying will be an excellent father,” Lan Wangji said, and his voice left no room for doubt.

“It’s easy for you to say,” Wei Wuxian whined, though he was smiling now. “You already have the experience of it! They say that it’s easier the second time, when you know what to expect…”

“Do not tell lies,” Lan Qiren said mildly. He was looking over some of Wei Wuxian’s notes – he’d insisted on any new inventions passing through a sanctioned approval process before they were put into practice and had volunteered himself to review them, a matter that had caused Wei Wuxian no end of stress until he realized that Lan Qiren really did intend to approve anything that met his standards and, moreover, understood musical cultivation enough to understand what he was driving at with most of them, even the esoteric ones, at which point Wei Wuxian gotten extremely enthusiastic about the whole thing.

This didn’t mean that they were friends or anything, but they’d at least formed some sort of tentative truce.

Most of the time, anyway.

Wei Wuxian squinted at his old teacher suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying that it’s not easier the second time?”

“I am only saying that I have experience in raising a child not my own,” Lan Qiren pointed out, and Wei Wuxian nodded, slightly abashed; he knew that the old man had basically raised Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, of course, although sometimes he forgot. “The first child I raised was Xichen and his personality as a child was much as it was as an adult: gentle, amiable, friendly, obedient.”

That made sense. Wei Wuxian nodded.

“The second child I raised was Wangji,” Lan Qiren said. “He bit people.”

Wei Wuxian burst out laughing.

Lan Wangj virtuously ignored them both, continuing to write a letter without the slightest hint of embarrassment – even his ears hadn’t turned red. What a shame!

“I can testify to that myself,” Wei Wuxian giggled, leering at his husband in the hopes of getting a rise out of him. “He’s still a biter – for certain lucky people.”

“He was a lot less discriminating when he was younger,” Lan Qiren said, and Wei Wuxian winced, abruptly remembering that Lan Wangji’s uncle was, in fact, still in the room. Luckily it was pretty easy to flirt around Lan Qiren, who didn’t seem to notice most of the time, but it was still a bit awkward. “And I once succumbed to temptation and gave him mixed messages, which I believe made it worse.”

That sounded like a story.

“He gave me a candy after I bit Sect Leader Jin,” Lan Wangji clarified, which made Wei Wuxian start laughing again. “He did not expect me to remember. I remembered. Nor did I allow him to forget about it.”

“It is easy to make mistakes while raising a child,” Lan Qiren said, ignoring Wei Wuxian’s cackling. “But if one means well, and tries hard to do the right thing, children are very forgiving – usually.”

Despite his best efforts to remain neutral, Lan Wangji’s eyes curved slightly in a smile. Wei Wuxian felt his heart go all warm and melty all over again.

“This is true regardless of whether it is the first or second child,” Lan Qiren added. “I have confidence that you will both do fine.”

“We will,” Wei Wuxian proclaimed. “With parents like me and Lan Zhan, how could the kid go wrong? And we’ll even try to avoid too many explosions!”

“Please do. One Lan Jingyi is enough for the Cloud Recesses.”

“You know, I was wondering – how did you end up with him being quite so…hmm…”

“Oh?” Lan Qiren said, and Wei Wuxian noted to his amusement that Lan Wangji straightened in back in sudden alarm despite Lan Qiren’s extremely nonchalant tone. “Have you not met Lan Yueheng yet? I must introduce you when he returns –”

“Perhaps not,” Lan Wangji said, sounding a little worried.

Worried, in this case, meant fun.

“No, I think I definitely need to meet this person – Lan Zhan, stop batting at me! I know exactly what I’m doing…”

-

Wen Ning looked down at the baby with which he had been entrusted.

“I don’t have any idea what I’m doing,” he confessed.

The baby gurgled.

“I think Wei-gongzi may have been thinking more about ‘babysitter that doesn’t need to sleep and has inexhaustible energy’ and less about ‘is this person qualified to take care of a baby’.”

More gurgling.

“I just wanted to apologize in advance.”

The baby yawned.

“…right then.” Wen Ning straightened up. Someone was going to have to raise this child, and based on how distractable Wei Wuxian was when he was around Lan Wangji and visa versa, it looked like it was going to have to be him. “Let’s do this.”

[sugar-petals]

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house. 

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like. 

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine. 

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship. 

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like. 

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that. 

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same. 

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket. 

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching. 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[stanknotstark]

Commanding Loki (just kind of happens)

Summary: You’re not really sure how it happens but you begin commanding Loki, the God of Mischief, around. To everyone’s shock, he happily obliges to your commands. 

The first time you do it in front of the Avengers they all kind of stop in shock.

"Loki, get me a soda before you sit down." You told rather than asked the God.

You were too busy looking at a tablet Tony had lent you to see him stop in his tracks. He glared at the Avengers looking at him, ready to attack him as if he was thinking about attacking you for giving him an order. They weren't wrong but only because you did it in front of everyone. Probably.

He got you a soda and sits next to you, rolling his eyes at your nonchalant thanks. 

The next time it happened was kind of a life or death situation.

"Loki, leave the room right now and calm yourself," You checked Thor's pulse through the gushing blood which made him slippery as an eel, "You either calm yourself and I’ll let you back in or you can sit out there like a petulant child. Go."

Natasha looked at you as if you were crazy, her hands pressing a t-shirt to Thor’s wound tightly. Loki heeded her no mind though and did as you told him.

He was welcomed back within 15 minutes.

Next, you do it more to push boundaries because Natasha had a conversation with you after Thor's fiasco. She's finds it quite funny that he obeys you like it's second nature but if anyone else dared do it he wouldn't hesitate to threaten their life. Trust me, Tony had wanted to test his boundaries and tried to do it too. Needless to say, Tony wouldn't be doing it again any time soon, he was still pissy some very expensive pieces of furniture got destroyed.

So one day while you and Loki are hanging out with Natasha, like you all consistently do because you three enjoy silence but companionship at the same time. You look across at Nat and grin, making sure Loki doesn't see it and commence your plan.

"Loki," Loki looks up from his book on midguardian foods newly introduced from 1996 to 2010, a questioning frown on his face, "Pass me the remote."

It's simple enough, nothing too strenuous. Yet.

"You have two perfectly functioning arms." Loki mutters but grabs the remote and gives it to you. You give him a genuine smile and you can see he has gone soft in the eyes before he looks at his book again. 

You glance at Nat with raised brows, she looks away with a smirk as you turn on the TV. Flicking through channels you finally settle on reruns of Stranger Things. Natasha gets interested and you kind of watch but mostly you're thinking about commanding Loki to do something else but what? Loki keeps looking at his book but you see him glancing up often to watch the show too.

"Hey, Cowboy," Loki growls at the name, it had come up when Thor told you he used to call him a cow for his horns, "Don’t sit like that you'll get scoliosis....if a God can get that." Loki who had slouched forwards blinked at you and sat up straight in shock from the bad posture. When you see him glower at the TV you smile, he's probably cursing midguardians for ruining his good posture.

"Thanks." You whisper.

Loki hums carelessly and puts his book down to instead watch the show. Natasha coughs into her hand (a hidden laugh, you knew Nat too well), Loki eyes her suspiciously, looks at you, then focuses back on the TV. You force yourself, with great resolve might you add, to not laugh. You let things settle again before you try the ultimate command.

"Ugh." You start, rolling your right shoulder around and poking at it as if it hurts. You're literally about to tell Loki to massage it for you but you’re struck by paralyzing shock. Loki had noticed your 'discomfort' and moved closer to you. Lifting his hands towards your shoulder he stopped and looked at you with a tilted brow, asking consent. 

Aww how sweet.

You nodded and shifted so he had better access to your back. One hand landed between your shoulders on your back and the other pinching the area where your shoulder met your arm and began massaging.

Shocked you let him staring at the TV but not knowing what is going on on the show. Loki and you had touched before so it's not so out in the left field that you're concerned but he was massaging you in front of Natasha. Your thoughts turned to mush as he pushes and pulls your body so he could access all of your back and starts massaging your entire back. You couldn't help the little whimpers and soft moans of delight. Not only was this man a God but he was literally gifted God like hands, unfair!

After letting out another whimper Loki stopped. You felt him shift back to his original spot and so you did too. Glancing at him you saw a hint of flushed cheeks as he stared at the TV distantly. Natasha was outright staring at him with both eyebrows raised to her hairline, it looked like.

Loki cleared his throat and left with an offhand excuse.

Once Loki left the area Natasha's eyes fell onto you. She smirked lecherously but said nothing about what had just happened. Turning her attention back to the show when you shrugged your shoulders, completely flustered. 

She asks, "So like, I don’t doubt Will is going to be found but does Barbara make it?"

You smile and settle into the couch, "You'll find out in a few episodes."

Natasha groans and you laugh. You know she hates not knowing but if she's truly desperate she can look it up on Google or ask Jarvis.

The next time you command him it's another crisis. 

In short, Thor and Loki are arguing, both clearly in a ferocious rage in the kitchen. All the team is there to experience it this time too.

"No, Thor, I cannot simply understand why you would defend those inept idiots you call friends. If you think they're in the right you’re more brainless than I thought!" Loki yells at Thor who now looks like a kicked puppy and your motherly instincts kick in.

"Hey!" Loki looks at you shocked, this is the highest he's ever heard your voice, and probably the angriest too because you just don’t get mad. You have the patience of a Buddha God, Tony likes to say. 

"You apologize to him right now, then you will listen to what your brother has say, and if you interrupt him I will show you just how minuscule a God can be to a non believer."

The entire kitchen is silent. Tony looks like he wants to flee the area, he's been on your angry side once before. Steve is practically engraving the table with his eyes. Natasha shrugs and continues eating her meal, the utensils clipping the plate the only noise in the room.

Loki looks at Thor and raises a brow. Thor, still looking at you, swallows and begins to talk, focusing on his brother again. 

"Im trying to learn but I don’t know how to stay neutral between your feelings and my friend's-"

Loki opens his mouth but slams it shut when you snap your fingers.

"-i do not want to offend anyone but every choice i make I offend you and I’m sorry brother, I truly am. What can I do to amend things between us?"

Loki glances at you to see if he may talk now. At your nod he says, "Start by supporting your brother sometimes. I don't ask that you stand behind every argument between your friends and I but you never fail to support them, it seems. You can't please everybody Thor, and you can't stay neutral forever, at some point you have to realize that you have to pick a side and who's side."

Thor has lost to kicked puppy look but he now frowns and nods, staring at the floor with guilt. Loki's hand comes up, hesitates, then he places it on Thor's arm for a second and swiftly leaves.

When no one moves for a few seconds you clear your throat and they all go back to whatever they were doing before the argument escalated out of proportion, you included.

You realize you may have tiptoed the line of being fair with that last command so you let it rest for awhile, give Loki some space. He of course notices your avoidance because Tony had asked you what was up between you both, stating that the God had asked him if anything was bothering you. Usually Loki came to you with his concerns, not being the type of person to talk behind someone’s back. 

You sigh and tell Tony you’re fine, that you’ll talk to him. So you head out from Tony’s lab and search for Loki. He isn’t in the living room, kitchen, or even his own bedroom. You remember him once stating that he likes read on the roof sometimes, Tony had build Loki a garden up on the roof at one point since Loki clearly missed the garden from home, Asgard. A small gesture but a true turning point for both Tony and Loki’s relationship you think. 

Walking out on the roof you don’t see Loki in the garden so you murmur a few expletives and make your way back to the door when a voice calls out your name. You follow the sound and find Loki hidden on a corner of the roof, sitting on the edge of the building. 

Walking up behind him you ask, “Can we talk?”

“You’ve never asked before, don’t see why you’d start now.” Loki says, no contempt in his voice though, it’s just very...neutral. 

You force out a small laugh, hearing your own tenseness in it, “Ya, about that..”

You sit next to Loki letting your legs dangle over the ledge like Loki does now. His legs kick every once in awhile giving him an almost childlike appearance. 

“First off, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Loki looks at you.

“I was out of line the other day with you and Thor. Not just then I’ve been, well, commanding you to do things for me and that’s...it’s not...right?” You finish lamely, your face a big grimace but you look Loki in the eyes when you apologize.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” Loki says with mirth lingering in his words. 

“Well, ya, is there some other reason I should have?” You squint at him suspiciously.

“No.”

Loki looks at you with an innocent look on his face, which you know is pure bullshit, but you let it slide. Shaking your head with a smile you then look out across the open skyline below you. 

“Apology accepted.” Loki says after some time has past. Your shoulders, which had tensed involuntarily, now relax. 

You don’t react, well more like force yourself not to, when you feel Loki’s hand come to rest atop yours which had been supporting you on the ledge. Loki lets his hand rest there before he gets more confident and intertwines both of your fingers. You smile, finally looking at Loki who is already staring at you brazenly. 

“Kiss me.” 

“What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Loki smirks then leans in, his left hand coming to cradle your head at your jaw and kisses you. At first softly, as if testing the waters, then begins to put more passion behind it as you lean into him. His tongue gently swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to let him explore. 

If you thought this man had God like hands....

When you’re both breathless you part but keep your faces close together. Your eyes roam over his face, noting how young he looks right now, how vulnerable, and bite your lip. Loki’s eyes drop to your lips and uses a thumb to pull your lip from your teeth lest you bruise them more. “Don’t bite them, it is my job to bruise them.” Loki says breathlessly. 

Much later, when it’s dark out, you both come back into the tower and make your way to the living room. The first person you see is Natasha who, legit, smiles at the look of you two. Tony who notices Nat smiling looks where she’s looking and whistles at the two of you who decide to share a love seat. 

“Shut up.” You command the two of them. 

You were sure the both of you made a pretty funny picture. Your hair was most likely tousled, too much so to just be from the wind, and Loki’s lips were nearly purple with bruising so no doubt yours were any less. Not to mention the both of you were too incredibly happy, which ya you being happy is normal but it was almost an alarming amount of giddiness and Loki doesn’t normally show his emotions so openly like this. 

Tony smirks, raises a brow and points the remote at the TV. “Stranger Things?” 

You, very much flustered, clear your throat and say yes. 

[asexy-phoenix]

We Can Share

poly!Avengers soulmate AU where the injuries of your soulmate(s) painlessly show up on your body.

Crossposted to Ao3

Remember when everyone was really into poly!Avengers right after phase 1 before the MCU became an overproduced nightmare of in-jokes and cgi? yeah, me too.

TW: self-harm, mentioned character death (non-graphic), injuries, scars.

Steve’s written on his skin for as long as he can remember. Ever since he found out Bucky was his soulmate, he’s grabbed a pen whenever he’s bored and scrawled a quick message. More often than not, Bucky would write back and soon Steve’s arms are covered in conversation.

How are you?

I’m fine. Aren’t you supposed to be in school?

Ma kept me home again. I told her I was fine but she said no school.

She was probably right.

Steve squinted at his arm. He was running out of space, so he pulled up his pant leg and started writing on his knee.

Do you want to go see a movie this weekend?

Not if you’re sick.

I’ll be fine by then.

Promise?

Promise.

They don’t stop and whenever Steve has a pen, he’ll write a quick sentence on his arm. Stay safe, or, don’t die, or, after the horrible moment where he watches Bucky plunge into a ravine, lost forever, I swear I’ll find you. The messages don’t come back after that, but a deep scar carves its way through the skin of his left shoulder.

After that Steve barely has time to think beyond revenge and pursuing Hydra and stopping the Red Skull and when he plunges the plane into the ice, his last thought is an apology to Bucky, that he never kept his promise.

-

Tony hates his soulmates. That’s not actually true – you can’t hate them, according to science – but Tony’s never been interested in what is and isn’t strictly possible, and he hates the scars that keep showing up on his body, so it’s easier to just say he hates his soulmates.

Ever since he was young, Howard had told him in no uncertain terms that he needed to keep them covered up, or, in his words, “the press will think I did it and hell will really break loose,” and that’s the last thing Tony wants, since hell was a pretty accurate description of his life anyway.

He goes to M.I.T and meets Rhodey and things start to fall into place, but it isn’t until he’s lying in a cave in Afghanistan with shrapnel worming its way towards his heart that he wonders what his soulmates will think. He dismisses the thought soon afterwards, too occupied with thoughts of escape and revenge.

When he gets back to America, he throws himself into his Iron Man suit, and generally ignores any new scars that show up on his body. They tend to come and go – there are a few exceptions, like the stab wound over his right lung – but there’s a series of them on his wrists and thighs.

Tony’s not stupid enough not to recognize them for what they are, and once when he’s particularly drunk he grabs a Sharpie and scrawls don’t do it beside a slowly-appearing mark. He doesn’t get a response, but the scar stops so he counts it a victory somewhere in the back of his mind.

-

Sometimes, when Natasha’s feeling particularly cynical, she wonders what her soulmate would think of her scars. The Red Room erases most of them after she’s finished her missions, but there are a few that they don’t take away.

When she’s ten, a mark shows up on her inner arm that she recognizes as an archery scar. Whoever it is must get an arm guard soon after, because it doesn’t appear again. She manages to hide it from her handlers until it heals, but the next one that shows up, a rope burn around her right wrist, is removed.

Years later, she wakes up with a mass of scar tissue in the centre of her chest, as if her soulmate had had their heart ripped out. The next day, a set of scars appear on her inner thigh. She watches them appear one by one, wishing she could stop whoever it was, rip the knife from their hand and throw it away. But she can’t so she doesn’t.

-

Clint doesn’t know why his soulmate’s scars keep disappearing on his skin, just for new ones to appear a week or a month later. If it’s a large enough one, he can sit and watch it as it goes. Sometimes he wonders what marks his circus tricks leave on his soulmate, but he’s never been permanently scarred, so he doesn’t worry too much about it.

When he gets recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D, he meets Phil Coulson. It’s incredibly cliché to say, but he’ll swear that, as soon as they shook hands, a current of electricity runs through his body. He’s sure they become soulmates in that moment, but he doesn’t know for sure until his first botched mission. S.H.I.E.L.D rescues him, and Clint sees the end of a scar that exactly matches the new one he has disappearing up into Phil’s hairline.

-

Bruce wishes he didn’t have soulmates most days. He likes the idea of a connection that’s deeper than words linking people who haven’t met yet, but at the same time he wishes he could remove it. If he could do that, could cut away whatever part of himself was tied to someone else, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt them on the nights he sat in the shower with a razor blade. He gets marks and phantom injuries too, but they’re regular things like cuts and scrapes from falling over in the street, and marks from archery. Not these neat, methodical lines he inflicts on himself.

It doesn’t get better, and it doesn’t get worse, and it keeps happening for years. Until, one night when scrawled writing appears beside the latest cut. Don’t do it, it says in barely legible writing, and Bruce starts sobbing. He drops the blade, pulls his knees to his chest and cries himself to sleep. For the first time he can remember, he feels like someone cares about him and it’s three words from a stranger.

-

Thor doesn’t have many scars for the first few centuries of his life. There are a few – from Loki of all people – but for the most part he has far fewer than anyone else at the court. It isn’t until just before he meets Jane Foster on Earth that he begins to see them. They’re small, just a few burns and other injuries like that at first, but gradually he starts to get more. As the years pass, more and more start to show up. There are scars that fade almost as quickly as they arrive, and others that are opened up over and over again, but the deepest one arrives just before he’s thrown down to Earth and stripped of Mjolnir. It appears near-fatal, and he figures that whoever gave it to him must have died, because there’s no way a mortal could survive any wound that runs that close to the heart. He mourns slightly, but then comes the trip to Jotunheim and all else is driven from his mind for a time.

It isn’t until his second trip to Earth when he meets the group of humans that call themselves the Avengers that he understands. There is a haunted look in the eyes of Steven and Natasha and Clint that speaks to one lost. Bruce’s sleeve pulls up and Thor recognizes the white line there – he knows that the lines continue across the doctor’s limbs because they’re on his body too.

There’s no time to say anything so he doesn’t until one night just after the Battle of New York as the humans are calling it. They are drinking and sharing stories in an age-old tradition that Thor is pleased to recognize transcends worlds. In some ways it is a pale imitation of his father’s halls, but in others it is far more meaningful than any Asgardian ceremony he has ever been a part of.

The hours slip by and conversation turns and turns again from topic to topic until finally settling on soulmates.

“Tell me,” Bruce says, eyes bright with mead and curiosity, “do your people have soulmates?”

“Of course!” Thor laughs loudly. “You are one of mine, Banner!”

“I – I am?” Bruce mutters. He looks as if the reveal has shocked the breath from him. “I didn’t know anyone was – “

“You’re mine, too,” Stark interrupts in a too-easy manner. “’s not like I know who mine are, but I imagine it’s pretty hard to miss for them.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Clint scoffs at the same time Natasha makes a noise of agreement.

“Oh, you two are mine?” Tony says with a grin. “This will make date nights with Pepper a lot more interesting!”

There’s a quick exchange of words, but across the table Thor watches Steven put down his drink. He takes off his shirt in one fluid motion and asks, “I don’t suppose any of you would know where these came from?”

In the end, it emerges that they are all soulmates in a tangled web that extends beyond their immediate gathering. Clint and Natasha were both bonded to the son of Coul, who they lost in the Battle; Natasha shares a bond with Steve in the form of his childhood friend Bucky; and Stark voices his suspicion that Pepper was also bonded to Phil but never knew.

“So, uh, what are we going to do about all of this?” Bruce asks, looking slightly dazed.

Thor smiles, feeling warmed not just from the alcohol but from the chance to finally meet all of his soulmates. “We can share,” he says.

No one disagrees.

[hyungieyoongi]

See You

Pairing: Professor!Hobi x Professor!Reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers + fluff + angst + Hobi and Reader have some personality conflicts at work but should really just make out or something and stop acting like they dislike each other + this entire fic is inspired by Hobi’s look in that gum commercial I mean he screamed professor with that turtleneck and plaid blazer (thank you @moon-write​ for encouraging this vision)

Word Count: 3.2K+

---

“No, no, please tell me you’re joking,” you groaned, eyes scanning over the classroom assignment list posted on the faculty board in the hallway over again, hoping you were seeing things wrong. A third look at the paper confirmed that your fears had in fact come true – you and Hoseok were teaching next door to each other the entire fall semester.

Hoseok was the History of Dance Professor in your department. He was hired at the beginning of last year, three years into your career as one of the youngest faculty members in the Music & Arts program at your university. While he was bubbly and energetic, you were the more typical academic – down-to-earth, a little bit serious. He was beloved by his students for his positive personality and passion for teaching; you were well-regarded as being a natural talent who wanted to hone your students’ abilities.  

It wasn’t that your students didn’t like your course. No, it was well-reviewed and relatively popular considering it was an elective. But once Hoseok arrived, you felt like you were competing with the star of the program. Every student, even the ones who didn’t like dance, were lining up for his course, pushing your class and others into smaller classrooms with dwindling numbers. He, of course, got the large lecture hall this year.

He was the pain in your side, constantly flashing his bright smile to get his way in the department, dazzling your colleagues. Students would often be buzzing in the hallways about how they didn’t have to take an exam in Professor Jung’s class like they did in Professor Y/L/N’s. They got to go to a local show instead and analyze the dance performance. Hoseok was creative and intelligent – that much you could agree with – but you rolled your eyes every time you saw another one of his students attempt to flirt with him.

Hoseok and you figured out you got on each other’s nerves pretty quickly. He would always play music too loud in his office while you were grading papers – he timed how long it took you to show up at his door to tell him to turn it down every afternoon. You would make it a point to have your students play samples of their pieces they’d written on the piano while he was in the middle of a lecture, leaving your classroom doors open so the notes of the instrument would float down the hallway to the lecture hall. You’d have a satisfied grin on your face when you heard the telltale noise of the lecture hall doors slamming shut.

The entire department knew about this little game the two of you would play with each other, not to mention the sarcastic comments from you and teasing jokes from him that were on repeat any time you were in the same room. The bickering was bound to get worse with the two of you in such close quarters all semester.

“Y/N!” you heard a loud voice call down the hallway. You hadn’t heard that voice in two and a half months thanks to your summer vacation. You gritted your teeth, turning with a tight-lipped smile toward your least-favorite coworker.

“Hoseok,” you greeted with a nod. As usual, your semi-chilly behavior toward him didn’t faze him.

“Y/N, come on, I thought I told you to call me Hobi!” he said cheerfully, his eyes squinting from his smile. He was wearing a cream turtleneck tucked into his khakis, plaid blazer over his shoulders. He had dyed his hair from the black you were accustomed to, his strands now a platinum blonde. You realized, begrudgingly, that he looked more attractive than he did last year.

“Well would you look at that, we’re neighbors,” Hoseok said after scanning the list on the board.

“Try to keep the gaggle of screaming fans away from the hallway when I’m teaching, would you?” you said sarcastically. Hoseok’s hand flew to his heart, acting like you had personally attacked him.

“Y/N, I cannot believe you would accuse my students of being so frivolous,” he said dramatically. “Just because we have more fun in my class, doesn’t make it any less serious than yours.”

“Oh, please, save the theatrics for the students who signed up thinking your class would be an easy ‘A’. I know for a fact that you gave out four D’s last semester.” Hoseok’s eyes twinkled at your challenging tone.

“And how many did you give out, Professor Y/L/N?” Hoseok asked in a sweet voice.

“None, thank you very much. Since my students actually learn something in my class, I don’t have to give out such low grades,” you quipped. Hoseok chuckled, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair.

“Maybe I should sit in on one of your classes this year. Learn a thing or two,” Hoseok said, stepping toward you. You flushed momentarily at his low tone, immediately stepping back. He smirked at your reaction.

“It’s invite only to audit my class, Jung,” you said before turning on your heel to walk toward your office down the hall, “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not!” you yelled over your shoulder.

You heard Hoseok laugh, and you cursed yourself for giving him the satisfaction of knowing that his teasing had gotten to you.

You had promised yourself at the end of the summer not to play into it this year – you were going to be professional, courteous. But the first time you see Hoseok, bam, it goes right out the window. 

You would just have to avoid Hoseok as much as possible.

You sighed once you closed your office door behind you. It was going to be a long semester.

---

Two months into the semester, the leaves had turned to burnt oranges and red, signaling the return of fall. Hoseok was sitting in one of the auditorium seats, his legs crossed over each other, looking down at his fingers with a soft smile playing at his lips. The delicate notes of the piano were playing from your classroom, the noise piercing the thin walls separating your classroom from his.

His class had been dismissed half an hour ago, and, based on the lack of students having straggling conversations in the hallway, yours had, too. He often waited after he was done teaching to see if you would play when you thought no one was listening. The notes you played sometimes indicated your mood; the music was soft and flowing, other times dark and intense.

Today it was, melancholic? He couldn’t quite place it, but it made him think about the change in seasons. He wondered if that was on your mind. The song was fluid, making him want to choreograph a piece to it, the dancer’s body matching the tempo of the music. He shut his eyes, picturing the movements behind his closed lids.

He’d never admit that he indulged in this as often as he did – he knew you wouldn’t be playing if you found out he was your only audience member. You had been avoiding him this semester. He had tried all of his old tricks – the loud music during office hours, teasing comments during staff meetings. But you wouldn’t blink.

He opened his eyes, the song transitioning into something light and happy. It made him think of sunshine.  

---

You stopped playing, your hands lifting off the keys like they burned you. You had been playing mindlessly, your fingers starting to pluck away at the keys in the melody that you had thought of when you would think of Hoseok.

The more you avoided Hoseok, the more you seemed to miss his overly positive personality. You would see him at staff meetings, always giving you a big smile. One day you came in late after a meeting with a student ran long, and you came into the room to see that he had saved you a seat next to him, the last one left empty in the room. 

He was still playing his music too loud, but you had stopped bugging him about it, and you noticed that it was gradually getting quieter.

You closed the cover over the keys, willing the thoughts about Hoseok to go away, packing up your papers and laptop. He was just your annoyingly happy colleague; there was no reason he should be taking up this much space in your mind.

---

“Are you honestly suggesting that the music composition class shouldn’t be considered a prerequisite for all music program students going forward?” you questioned angrily. You and Hoseok were at a standoff in the department meeting, his normally pleasant features tense, arms crossed in front of him.

“If that means that it prevents funding from getting diverted from the dance program to the instrumental students, then, yes, that is what I’m suggesting,” Hoseok countered.

“That’s ridiculous! Music composition is a fundamental building block for all students – including dance, Jung!” your voice had risen, and the department head looked between you both, deciding that the meeting had gotten too out of hand to continue.

“Professor Y/L/N, Professor Jung – why don’t the two of you take a walk around the building, get some fresh air. The rest of you, dismissed. We’ll resume this conversation, civilly, next week,” the department head declared.  

You were fuming, angrily shoving your notebook and pen in your bag before storming out of the building. You felt someone else’s presence, and you turned, groaning when you saw the last person you wanted to see standing behind you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“Give it a rest, Jung, I’m not in the mood,” you said grumpily.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the bookstore to grab a coffee and put this behind us,” Hoseok scoffed, smile wiped away. “But, I guess not.”

“Not everyone wants to just roll over and play nice when you flash them a smile, Hoseok.”

“Well, not everyone wants to act like they have a superiority complex, either.”

Your lips pursed, hands beginning to fidget with how angry and upset his comment made you. The two of you had been annoying last year, sure, but you had never been mean to each other. Until today.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said quietly, heated tone still evident despite the low volume.

“The feeling is mutual,” Hoseok said harshly. “It’s not like you’ve even tried to get to know me. You immediately disliked me from day one. You never even gave me a chance!”

“That’s rich coming from you. All that shit with the music and the comments – it’s like you wanted me to dislike you,” you replied.

“I wanted you to talk to me, Y/N,” Hoseok said, exasperated. “Forget it, I can see now that it was useless to try.”

“I was trying to play nice this semester,” you said, glaring at Hoseok. “You came in like a damn bulldozer last year, disrupting everything in the department. And everyone just did what you wanted because you’re ‘mister nice guy’, and you make people laugh and people just think you’re perfect. Well, I don’t buy it.”

You took a deep breath, leveling your gaze at him.

“Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours,” your voice was stone-cold. Hoseok’s eyes flashed, lips in a thin line before he responded bitterly.

“Perfect.”

---

Things had been quiet between you and Hoseok since your fight outside of the building a few weeks ago. You politely nodded at each other in the hallway when you passed by, avoiding eye contact. You would grimace when you heard his laugh during lectures next door to yours, wanting to block the sound out.

You couldn’t get what he said to you out of your thoughts – you really didn’t know Hoseok very well. All you knew is what he presented to the rest of the world. He was bubbly and positive and optimistic; he probably thought you were just some brooding, academic stiff.

Hoseok noticed the songs you were playing lately were rather intense. Sometimes he would hear you smash against the keys like you were angry with the piano for not producing the sounds you wanted to hear.

He knew the feeling. He was spending more time in the dance studio lately, dancing aggressively to loud hip hop music, trying to drown out the frustration he was feeling at not being able to make you crack and talk to him.

That’s where he found himself tonight, trying to get rid of his stress. You were stubborn, but you were also beautiful, intelligent, passionate, tenacious. He turned his music up louder, drowning out the thoughts of you.

---

You had re-read the same sentence four times, red pen poised in your hand ready to edit the student’s paper. The loud beats were still audible from the practice rooms. It was late, and the building had been closed to students for the past two hours.

You decided to go down there. You weren’t going to get them in trouble for staying past close, but with finals coming up, you were sure the students needed a gentle reminder that sleeping was just as important as practicing.

You walked down the dark hallway, going down the steps to the practice rooms on the floor beneath the faculty offices, finding the one with the light on, music blaring through the glass panes separating the space from the hall.

You glanced into the room, seeing Hoseok dancing. You had never seen him in his element before, and it was captivating. He was wearing a black pair of sweats, an oversized yellow t-shirt adorning his slender frame. The music seemed to be moving through his body. He was grounded in the floor, an intense expression on his face as he hit heavy movements on the beat, fluidly moving through other parts depending on the music. You felt like this was personal, like you weren’t allowed to be watching, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

Hoseok looked into the mirror, his eyes looking toward the shadow in the hallway. His eyes met yours, his gaze burning into yours through the glass. You gulped.

He turned, grabbing a bottle of water and pausing the music. You figured that was your cue, opening the door to the studio and stepping inside.

“Was it too loud?” Hoseok asked, voice light despite the obvious tension in the room.

“No, it’s okay uh – I was grading papers, and I thought a student was still down here,” you explained softly. “I thought I’d tell them to go home, get some rest.”

Hoseok had a curious expression on his face. If he was surprised to hear why you were down here, he didn’t mention it. You felt the need to fill the silence, so you spouted the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re really talented, Hobi,” you said quickly. His eyebrows shot up at the sound of the nickname you never called him. “Hoseok – sorry, I meant Hoseok.”

“Watch out, people might think we’re friends,” Hoseok joked, but it came out strained.

“Hoseok – Hobi. I’m sorry about what I said a few weeks ago. I was heated, and I apologize,” you said, looking down at a scuff in the hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry, too. What I said was uncalled for, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Last year, this semester. Anything I’ve done that has made you mad or annoyed. I’m sorry,” Hobi said sincerely. “I-um, well…”

You looked up, waiting for him to continue.

“I just wanted your attention.”

“What?”

“I wanted your attention. I wanted you to want to talk to me. I wanted you to get to know me. Not the version of me that I show my students. I wanted you to see me. Really see me.”

You gulped, Hobi’s vulnerability making you nervous. He took a step toward you, and you willed yourself to stay in place.

“I know you do the same thing; you hide. Hide behind this persona you’ve created. I think it goes away when you play piano.”

“How do you–what do you mean?” you asked incredulously.

“I hear you play. After class. I never told you because I selfishly wanted to keep listening. Your music it – it tells a story. About your day, your feelings. If you didn’t tell me yourself, at least your music did.”

Your cheeks burned knowing that he was audience to all of the time spent in your classroom, working out your feelings on the piano like it was your therapy.

“Everything goes away when I play,” you stopped, thinking about how distracted you had been lately trying to compose. “Well, most of the time, anyway.”

“That’s how I feel when I dance,” Hobi admitted with a gentle smile. You nodded, realizing that the two of you had this in common, at least.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you said, backing away from Hobi toward the door.

“Wait –,” Hobi said, slightly flustered. “Dance with me.”

Your eyes widened. Hobi laughed, and you hated to admit that you had missed the sound.

“Come on, just trust me, Y/L/N.” You waited while he picked out a song, holding out his hand. You placed your fingers in his, and he pulled you close to him, leading you around the studio floor to the song. He made you feel light on your feet despite your lack of dance experience, his hand tightly gripping yours, his other floating over your waist. Your skin tingled from the contact.

He spun you around twice, your hands landing on his chest as you tried to regain your balance. You looked up at him, genuinely enjoying yourself. His bright smile you used to roll your eyes at lit up his features, causing your smile to match his.

“Can you see me now, Y/N?” Hobi asked, referencing his earlier confession. “Because I see you when you play. When you tell a student crying in your office that everything is going to be okay. And I see you now when you’re dancing with me like this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Remember when you said I didn’t know anything about you?” You nodded, recognizing his reference to your fight outside of the department building. “I don’t think that’s true. But I know there’s so much more to know. And I want to know everything.”

Hobi’s hand came up to your cheek, softly placing it on the side of your face.

“I want to know you, too, Hobi,” you whispered.

He leaned forward, his breath fanning over your lips, “Want to start now?”

You gripped his t-shirt in your hand, pulling him the last few inches to your lips instead of answering. You felt him smile against your lips, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him.

He pulled back, his forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath.

“Does this mean I can start playing my music loudly during office hours again?” Hobi teased, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater, brushing against your skin.

You made a face at him, causing him to laugh. He kissed you on the forehead, then on the lips again to make you smile before answering.

“Not a chance.”  

---

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[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒘𝒏 (𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒏) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)/ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐍𝐨𝐧-𝐈𝐝𝐨𝐥! 𝐀𝐔

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞/ 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓.𝟓𝐊

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐒𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬.

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

Taking the milkshake glasses off the counter and making sure the space was throughly wiped down and sanitized, San's eyes looked up when the familiar midnight blue Nissan sedan, whose model he'd never given a damn to memorize, parked in front of the restaurant, signaling the arrival of the person working the closing shift that day. His heart practically somersaulted when he caught glimpse of the soft, silky [insert color] hair stepping out of the vehicle, the owner such pretty hair owning an equally beautiful face. While his heart pounded, his stomach turned sick when he saw the driver come out as well, going over to where she was, whispering a goodbye in her ear. To anyone passing by, it'd look like a normal couple, a boyfriend bringing his girlfriend to work and giving her a kiss, no doubt promising to pick her up later.

But San knew better.

His eyes always caught on to the way she stepped back slightly, her arm folding across her body when his hand reached out to caress it, his fingers no doubt gripping down harshly on her skin. She didn't kiss him back, she just allowed him to place his lips momentarily on hers before patting her cheek lightly with his palm and soon going back to his vehicle and driving away. He watched her take a deep breath before she felt ready to go inside and start her shift.

"Hey Y/N!" He did his usual friendly and warm way of greeting her, his smiling eyes and dimples putting a genuine smile on her own somber countenance.

"Hi San. How's it been?" She inquired as she punched her number in.

Shrugging his shoulders, he sighed.

"Same as almost every Wednesday. Dead, boring and mostly the regulars or just travelers."

She shook her head, already mentalizing herself that it'd be another day spent cleaning what's already clean and over stocking the merchant just to pass time. She went inside the office to put on her uniform shirt and apron. San in no way ever peeked in to see her cause he was a pervert, he respected her and would never allow himself to think of any inappropriate scenarios involving her. However, he would always sneak a tiny glance every now and then for one particular reason. Tilting his head slightly so he could see through the tiny cracked door, he watched her take off her denim jacket and felt his grip tighten on the glass cup he was currently drying when he spotted some purple blotches on her bicep. He immediately looked away as he did not want to get angry in front of her. He hastily put the cup back in the shelf under the counter, throwing the rag onto the marble counter in a rather aggressive manner.

"Ok San, tell me what needs to be finished."

Coming out in full uniform and hair held up with her usual choice of a colored scrunchie, this day choosing yellow, Y/N looked at her coworker and waited for him to give her a task.

"Nothing really except wait on customers. I already stocked the fridge and pulled out the stuff needed from the freezer."

He was always doing that, doing not only his side workload but also hers, which more often than not had her pouting at him.

"So I'll just be bored to death?" She huffed.

Chuckling, San stepped closer to her, making sure to keep an elbow distance from her, knowing she tended to get apprehensive when someone came to close to her than she was comfortable with.

"Not really. There's plenty of things to amuse yourself with. Besides.......maybe now you won't hurt yourself so much from lifting heavy objects..."

His tone lowered involuntarily at that last part. He knew very well the bruises weren't cause she'd accidentally hit herself on the railings in the back because she lost her balance carrying stuff in and out of the freezer. She herself tensed up a little at his words.

"Oh right......heh.....clumsy me right?" She tried to plaster an unfazed smile on her face, only succeeding about halfway.

Unable to control his movements, San's hand reached out to tuck some of the hair slipping out of her ponytail behind her ear. It hurt him to no end when she flinched slightly at his movement, he could feel her tensing up when his fingers made contact with her temple. As he squinted his eyes, he could make out the uneven patch of concealer and powder on the area close to her hairline, a tiny hue of reddish purple peeking slightly through. She relaxed when he finally retreated his hand.

"Just try to be careful and take care of yourself. I don't like seeing you get hurt."

She probably didn't know, or maybe she did, he was painfully obvious when it came to her, that he meant what he said in more ways than one.

"You too....see you San."

Once more, he held himself back from blurting out everything that was kept in his chest, instead opting for giving her a farewell and going out to the parking lot to get inside his red 1989 Ford f150 and drive over to his friend's house, the bunch of them waiting for him to complete his shift and come over to their place.

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"Aish seriously San, just forget about her. Plenty of fish in the sea." One of the pair of giants told him as he chugged back the remnants in his bottle.

"And you have a lot of fish waiting for you to reel in your rod so they can bite right in." His friend sitting next to him wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"Stop you guys." San pushed the blonde away.

"Mingi and Wooyoung are right though San. You have girls and guys lined up all willing to drop their pants for you at anytime. Lucky bastard." Yunho, the other half of the giant squad chuckled lowly.

"I don't want any of them though... you guys don't understand." San looked down at the floor.

The other blonde haired male in the room, Yeosang, rolled his eyes at him, unable to understand his infatuation for the girl.

"You've been pining for her since high school. When are you going to let her go? She chose and still chooses to this day Lee Taeyong."

Slamming his fist on the table, San angrily looked at him.

"Don't fucking mention that asshole's name near me!"

Everyone grew quiet, the members who were bordering on getting tipsy suddenly sobering completely up as if there was absolutely no drop of alcohol in their system. San was usually a very friendly and sweet person, but he was also sensitive and emotional, and lately he'd manifest it through anger and rage, and it was truly terrifying to them. But they knew he had reasons for lashing out like that. They knew his hatred for Taeyong, not just for being able to score the girl he'd been in love with for ages, San would have stayed content and wholeheartedly happy had she'd been loved and cared for like she deserved to be. But instead, he had to watch as she was constantly belittled and sometimes shoved hardly into the ground, landing her scraped knees or bruised palms. He could only imagine what went on behind closed doors.

"San......you have to accept reality, all of us do whether we like it or not. Her friends aren't blind to what's happening to her. Teacher's at university aren't either, they've all tried approaching her about it.....she won't listen to anyone." Yunho decided to finally say what everyone was thinking.

"She doesn't deserve it! It's toxic and sick!" He cried out in desperation.

"But ultimately it's her choice........ you can't force her to get help or leave if she doesn't want to. She's been with him for years."

Unwilling to hear anymore, San quickly picked up his leather jacket and stormed out the house. He drove the streets like a mad man, his fist hitting the steering wheel every time he stopped at a red light. He would have continued his angry drive back to his place had he not spotted an all too familiar denim jacket walking on the road. Slowing down the truck, he pulled closer to the right side and stopped right in front of the figure trembling in the cold night air.

"Y/N?" He rolled down his window so she wouldn't be startled by some stranger suddenly pulling up next to her.

"Oh! Hey San!" She said through chattering teeth.

"You're walking home all alone?" He could not believe this.

"Uh....yeah! My boyfriend got caught up at work....didn't want to bother him so I'm walking home...it's not that far!" She tried to sound reassuring, but he could see right through her.

"You want a ride?" He offered.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it'd be a good idea or not.

"Hey it's ok. I'm not going to kidnap you or anything. I'll just drive you straight home. We don't even have to talk if you don't want. Just you, me and some old jams playing on the radio all right?"

Unable to resist that dimple smile that always made her feel fuzzy inside, she allowed him to open the door for her from the inside. After giving him her address, she found he stayed true to his word and just drove in silence the entire time. She was kinda thankful for it. She was tired after her shift, exhausted from walking and from how late it was, and more than anything, she felt like she was going to spill tears any minute if she even got out a single word. She felt worn out, her head resting on the window, eyes opening and closing as tiredness began to overtake her. She only awoke when she felt a light hand caress her cheek. In other circumstances, she would have immediately swatted the hand away and pushed the face near her own as far away as possible. But she didn't do that, she felt strangely safe and protected by the male next to her as he brushed some hair off her face.

"We're here. Safe and sound just like I promised."

Safe.........

For some reason she felt anything but safe as she looked at the house in front of her.

"Thanks San." She smiled weakly at him as she began taking off her seat belt.

"Call me if you ever need a ride. I mean it. I don't want you catching a cold...or-or worse..." He admitted.

"Thank you, really. Good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

She took slow steps to the front door, San didn't drive away until he confirmed she was inside. With a heavy heart, he drove away back to his place, unaware that the girl he dropped off was watching through the peephole his departure, still staying there moments after he had disappeared from sight. She sighed despondently as she dropped her bag onto the floor, slumping her body onto the couch as it was useless to try to go sleep in the bedroom given the pornographic moans and thumping noises coming from inside it. Wouldn't be the first or last time she came home to such sounds. She simply curled up into a fetus position, falling asleep in the usual way:

Tears falling out of the corners of her eyes.

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

"What do you mean she's not coming?"

San nervously gulped as his boss told him Y/N's boyfriend called to say she had a little accident and couldn't go in that day. He knew it was bullshit and he was going to find out what really happened. After going to classes the next day, he actively searched around campus for any signs of her or Taeyong. After asking around, a girl motioned to the football field, saying that's where they'd often go to at times. San squinted his eyes as he looked all over for them, finally spotting them near the bleachers. His fist tightened as he watched Taeyong once again put his filthy hands on Y/N, shoving her to the ground, making her land face first, her palms outstretched and scraping against the grass under her. He watched as Taeyong simply walked away, leaving her there, not caring about if she was seriously injured or not. Unable to hide any longer, San sauntered over to her, his arms picking her up from the ground.

"Y/N it's me!"

He didn't mean to shout at her, but having her scream and cover her head protectively gave him no other option. He nearly began crying himself when she lifted her head, her eyes full of fear and panic.

"Oh! It's you San! Sorry for that!"

As she stood up, she began dusting the dirt off, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ankle. Faking a smile, she giggled nervously.

"Clumsy me again, tripping on some-"

"Y/N stop lying to yourself. I saw everything."

Her face darkened at his words, her eyes becoming glued to the floor as she avoided his gaze like she did the others. She hated seeing their pitiful stares and shameful eyes, she believed San probably had the same look as well. She couldn't be more wrong as his eyes just looked at her in despair and agony.

"Why? Why do you put up with it? Why do you stay with him? Why do you torture yourself like this?.....

Why do you love him?"

He asked that last question more to himself than her. Y/N crossed her right arm over her chest, her hand clutching her left bicep as she gently massaged the muscle there. San knew it was the same bruised arm he had seen a few days ago, it was probably even more battered up than the last time he saw it.

"I can't......I don't know....."

Seeing her struggling to form words, San opted for gently hovering his hands around her, maneuvering and ushering her to sit on the bleachers without ever laying a single finger on her. Opening his backpack, he took out the mini first aid kit his older friend, Seonghwa, had given him, actually deciding to put it to use for once.

"I'm going to clean these scrapes ok?"

He looked at her and waited til she gave him permission to touch her. She did not flinch away at all when he began wiping off the dirt and blood accumulated on her knee or hands, only momentarily when he applied the disinfectant spray on her wounds.

"Sorry." He apologized.

"It's fine.......I'm used to hurting...." She finally admitted.

He wanted to speak up again, but found it hard to find the right words. He focused on applying ointment on her wounds and bandaging them up nicely.

"How long has he pushed you around?" He needed to know.

"Started 3 months after we became official.....but even before that, he'd often tease me and what not........ it doesn't hurt ....." She lied once more.

"The Y/N I knew never lied even to save her life. Sad how someone like him managed to change that." He finished wrapping the gauze around her knee.

"I haven't changed at-"

"Yes you have." He interrupted once again.

"The Y/N from then was a cheerful, happy ray of sunshine known for her bubbly personality and kindness to others. She loved going out with friends and hated staying indoors for too long. She was always honest and ready to help anyone in need, especially cute abandoned animals, she was a real softie for them."

She chuckled softly at his words, not denying any of it.

"I still am soft for them." She corrected him.

"But you're no longer happy. You're sad, somber and being in pain all because of an asshole who doesn't deserve you.......he doesn't deserve your love."

Although she heard him and wanted to believe his words, her mind blocked out such reasoning.

"But he does love me.......he swears it....every time it happens, he apologizes and promises-"

"It's all lies Y/N! He doesn't love you! If he loved you he wouldn't hurt you physically and emotionally. He wouldn't be the reason why you're only a shell of the person you used to be. He doesn't love you and he'll never love you..."

She let his words sink, trying to digest what he was saying.

"I know because I've loved you for so long and I'd never even think about putting you through half of what he has."

She whipped her head up at his words, seeing the earnest and emotion in his eyes as he finally confessed what was in his heart.

"San......" She was left speechless.

He teared up, scoffing at himself as a dry smile formed on his face.

"You have no idea how much it hurts seeing you be in pain and not able to do anything about it. Having you flinch at my touch when all I want is to comfort and hold you."

Without thinking, he cupped her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears that began falling down her eyes.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself Y/N. You can't spend the rest of your life living in fear and chained to someone who just wants to make you suffer. You can't allow someone to take away your joy and peace of mind. You shouldn't be afraid to be free and enjoy life. You deserve to be happy and loved."

He used his last bit of self control he had and stopped himself when he leaned his face too close to hers, his nose brushing against hers, expecting her to shiver away from his touch, but instead she seemed to wait for his next move. Knowing he'd never forgive himself for it, he pulled back, leaving her disappointed and himself in agony.

"Please take care..."

Taking off his leather jacket, he placed it on her back, fanning out the sleeves so it'd cover her shoulders. Then he turned around and began walking away from her, shoulders slumped down and heart aching to go back and just take her away for good. But he resolved himself not to. Not until she specifically asked him to.

When Y/N finally got back to her place, Taeyong wasn't there. He was probably spending the night at one of his side chick's place, no doubt getting buzzed and high out of his mind. Her soft bed no longer comforted her, so instead she slid down and sat on the floor, hugging her knees and occasionally running a finger through the fabric of San's jacket. His scent was still on it and every time she inhaled it, it had a soothing and calming effect on her mind and heart that soon helped her tense body relax until she felt sleepy. It took a lot of effort, but she climbed into her bed, not bothering to cover herself with the blanket or change into more comfortable and less confining clothes.

San's jacket was the only comforting thing at that moment......

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Nudging him with his elbow, Yeosang whispered to the male next to him the presence of the girl that was slowly approaching them. Always reacting to anything related to her, San turned his head and smiled softly when he saw Y/N walking up to him.

"Hey." He greeted her.

"Hi.....I came to return this. Thanks for letting me borrow it." She held out his leather jacket, neatly folded and visible clean.

"Oh Y/N, you really didn't need to go that far." San became shy at her gesture, and worried about if she washed it cause he had forgotten to and it disgusted her.

"Don't say that. It's the least I can do for all you've done..."

She looked up at his eyes as she said that, her heart fluttering when he rested his hand on top of hers when he tried to take back his treasured article of clothing, letting it stay there for a moment, his fingers giving her hand a light squeeze. His friend behind him looked back and forth between the both of them, confused by what was going on and internally gagging at their mushy scene.

"I wanted to say thank-"

"Y/N!"

The voice calling out for her roared in her ears, sending her into a panic mode as she pulled away immediately from his physical contact. San noticed the way her body tensed up and her eyes became afraid. His own eyes narrowed at the icy blue haired man strutting up to them, a chilling smile on his manga like visuals.

"Hey baby, I've been looking all over for you. What were you doing?" He asked in a concerning tone, face bearing down on hers rather uncomfortably.

"I- I was j-just giving San back this.." She stammered as she gestured to the jacket in her hand.

Letting out a barely audible scoff, Taeyong gripped the jacket, prying it off her delicate fingers before tossing it back to San.

"Thanks bud."

San glared at him, resisting the urge to throw a punch to his face. Seeing him unresponsive, Taeyong just shrugged and suspiciously wrapped an arm around Y/N.

"Come on babe. Let's go back home."

His fingers dug into her skin, applying very painful pressure to her bruise, an occasional whimper coming out of her mouth as they walked across the football field. San's jaw tightened as he watched Taeyong lean in and whispered something in her ear, no doubt some degrading words judging by the way she cowered beneath him.

"San just let it go." Yeosang's voice said.

"I can't Yeosang. Every time I see him even breathe near her.......I feel like combusting." He grunted in frustration as his friend tried to calm him down.

"Taeyong, please stop. It really hurts." Y/N cried out, her fingers prying his hand off her aching arm.

"Shut up you little bitch. How dare you go talk to that punk? Making me look bad and having me talk to that low life." He cringed in disgust.

"I was only thanking him for lending me-"

"So what? Were you going to lend yourself to him too? Is that what you were going over to him for?"

She instantly shook her head.

"What?! No!"

"Yeah right. I bet you already whored yourself out to him...didn't you?!"

Not caring that there was still people nearby, Taeyong harshly yanked her by her hair before tossing her onto the ground, catching the attention of everyone around, including San and Yeosang.

"Fucking whore." He spat at her.

"Don't." Yeosang held his hand out when he saw San taking a step forward.

"But I can't-"

Yeosang kept an arm around him to keep him in place.

"Don't get involved. You'll only make things worse."

San looked back at the scene, his heart breaking seeing Y/N once again on the floor, trembling like a frightened kitten who had no protection. When she looked up, he saw tears already brimming down her face.

"Get up. We're going home." Taeyong sternly commanded, turning to walk away as usual.

"No."

He stopped dead in his tracks at her refusal.

"Excuse me?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

Not knowing how or where she got the strength from, Y/N got up and faced him with determination.

"I've finally had enough."

Both San and Yeosang were shocked at hearing her words, one of them more incredulous than anything and the other proud of her for finally standing up for herself. Taeyong too was put out of sorts seeing her be so bold.

"Haha, real funny baby. Now let's go home." He walked closer to her, reaching out to yank her arm, but she slapped it away.

"No! I told you! I've had it! It's over!" She declared.

Sensing he was really losing his power and control over her, Taeyong lunged at her, fist held up in the air.

"Listen here you-"

Y/N covered her face, stepping back when he came close to her. She opened her eyes and uncovered herself when she felt someone suddenly step in front of her, their hand blocking Taeyong's fist from even approaching her.

"Stay out of this Choi." Taeyong grunted.

"She told you it's over Taeyong."

San easily pushed him away single handedly, making him stumble backwards.

"Now leave and never bother her again."

Not giving up yet, Taeyong looked back at Y/N menacingly.

"And do tell me Y/N? If it's over, where are you going to live now?" He taunted her.

Realizing he was right, she almost felt defeated until San spoke up again.

"She's going to live with me." He firmly answered.

"I fucking knew it. You were being a whore with him."

Unable to hold himself back anymore, San swung hard, fist colliding with Taeyong's face, sending him falling down against the floor. Y/N covered her mouth as she gasped sharply when San picked Taeyong back up from his collar, shaking him fiercely.

"Call her that one more time! I dare you to!" He warned him as he got ready to take another swing.

"San stop!" He felt Yeosang intervene once again, holding his elbow with his hands.

"Yeosang! Just let me-"

"Stop for Y/N's sake, she's already seen and lived enough violence, I really don't think she needs to see any more." Yeosang tilted his head to the Y/N who had already began backing as far away as possible.

Realizing his friend was right, San begrudgingly let go of his most hated rival.

"Try to come near her again and I will end you."

With those final words, he went over to where Y/N was, his face softening up when he looked at her. He held out his hand to her and waited for her response. He felt happy when she finally reached out and allowed him to guide her out to the parking lot, and thankful that he decided to park somewhere where there weren't a lot of people.

"You all right?" He finally spoke up when they were finally inside his truck

"Uh...yeah...actually...I'm fine.... can you believe I actually did it?"

Although she sounded enthusiastic, he heard the crack in her voice and her nervous laughter wasn't helping her case. Instead of turning the car on, he shifted to his right to look at her. He watched as the smile left her face, her fidgeting hands suddenly shake uncontrollably and her laughter suddenly turned to her hyperventilating. Knowing what was happening, San immediately pulled her into an embrace for the very first time in his life, holding her tightly, hands running through her hair as she began breaking down, sobbing violently, finally releasing all the pent up pain and suffering she had been bottling up for years.

San himself wanted to cry, but he didn't for her sake. He just let her cry her eyes out. It took a little over 10 minutes, but finally she started to calm down.

"Thank you....for everything."

Kissing her forehead, he poked her nose and smiled at her.

"Don't mention it. Let's get you somewhere warm now."

He made sure to play soothing music for her on the ride to his house. He noticed how once again she was drifting off to sleep and simply allowed her rest, knowing she was probably exhausted not only from crying so much but also from standing up to her abusive ex boyfriend moments ago. That certainly took a lot of energy and strength from her part and he was proud of her.

It was already dark when they got home, the brooding and cloudy day shortening the daylight and making it night at such an early hour. San gently picked up Y/N and got her out of the car, carrying her sleeping figure bridal style inside his house. It was small, but at least it was cozy and would be safe for her. Peeling back the covers from his bed, he carefully laid her down on it before tucking her in. When he made sure she'd be comfortable, he turned to leave the room, deciding it'd be better for him to sleep on the couch, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or have her freak out. He barely got to the door when he heard a tiny and hushed whisper of his name.

"San?"

He immediately looked over to see what she needed.

"Could.....could you please sleep by my side?.... I'd feel more safe that way..."

She didn't want to admit it right then, but it had been so long since she'd slept in someone's arms and she really craved physical affection from him. Happy to oblige, San went over and got into bed with her.

"Are you going to be ok if I wrap my arm around you?" He asked for permission first.

"Please just hold me." She begged as she cuddled up next to him, her face burying inside his chest.

He wasted no time in throwing his arm around her, his delicate fingers drawing soothing circles on her arm.

"Don't be afraid. You're safe now and you're going to be all right. I'm here and I'll protect you."

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More than a year passed. It was a long and arduous process. At first Y/N didn't want to go through it, but San kept insisting she get therapy. After promising to accompany her and staying by her, she finally gave up and started seeing a psychologist. It wasn't easy, for neither of them. It was painful for her to finally speak up about all the abuse she endured for years and it was equally torturous for San to hear the rest of the untold story. It truly sickened him that one day he nearly busted Taeyong's face when he met him outside the school, but was ultimately held back once more by one of his friends. Besides his main priority was helping Y/N, helping her to properly function again and to bring a little more joy into her life, even going out to adopt a cat for her, naming her Byeol. She became their cute little baby, even if she was a total, well, cat at times and didn't want to cuddle.

"That's ok. I know a cat willing to cuddle me." Y/N chuckled.

San looked around confused.

"Wait! You got another cat? Where is- Oh! You meant me." He blushed hard when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body next to his as she snuggled next to him on the couch.

San did not hope for and did not expect Y/N to ever return his feelings, he was satisfied with her just being out of that horrible situation and being able to help her. Never did he dream she'd ever accept to be his and especially not ever cross his mind that he'd ever be able to actually claim her as his own.

But here she was, looking so beautiful underneath his body, wearing nothing but his leather jacket as he rolled his hips against hers. His fingers were laced with hers as his lips pulled apart from hers so he could look at her.

"Fuck...you're so damn pretty."

He leaned back in to place open mouth kisses on her jaw that traveled down to her neck. Although he nibbled occasionally, he made sure not to leave any marks on her soft and delicate skin.

"San...." She breathed out heavily, her hands breaking from his grasp to run through his black hair, paying close attention to the faded green streaks near his bangs.

"Oh god- please repeat that a little more." He groaned, loving the way she called out his name with such lust.

One of his hands traveled down her sides to cup one of her thighs, lifting her leg so he could hit deeper inside her. Feeling him at a whole new angle had Y/N gripping his muscly arms, her panting now becoming more erratic as she began clenching around him.

"San-" She called out again.

He chuckled slightly, hips snapping up to thrust just a little harder in her.

"Go ahead beautiful. Cum all over me, I want to feel you."

Hearing his low and suddenly husky voice urging her on, she let out a tiny whimper, her legs wrapping around his waist, using it as leverage to ride out her high. Her nails raked themselves into his back, her body pressed as close as it could be against his.

"Oh my god!" He gasped out as he twitched inside of her, his cum coating her walls, leaving her feeling full and complete.

He collapsed on top of her, his labored breathing occasionally resulting in a little choke as he tried to compose himself. When he finally came to, he brushed his lips against her temple.

"I love you so much."

She smiled at him as he adjusted the jacket that enveloped her, a real genuine smile.

"I love you too Sannie."

Giving her a tiny peck, he began sliding the jacket off.

"Let's get you out of this. It's probably too hot to be wearing it anymore."

She huffed and pouted.

"Baby no. I love wearing it. It feels like it's hugging me." She grabbed it and wrapped it around her more tightly.

"You know what else wants to hug you? My arms. So take off the jacket and let me snuggle you love."

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[burnedbyshoto]

a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

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pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

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You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero. 

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping. 

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again. 

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed. 

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for. 

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch. 

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too. 

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick. 

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it. 

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!” 

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

“Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist. 

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay. 

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again. 

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you. 

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you. 

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”