#irregardless though.

[vanwizard]

okay i will admit i enjoyed these three in the like. one scene they were actually all on screen together.

sofia voice shut up and get the fuck out goncharov, i’m gonna fuck your wife now.

[bokettochild]

Does anyone remember Violet?

Okay, how about the Nancy LU animatic? Yeah, the fic I write for that, you remember? No? Yes? It doesn't matter

I wrote a sequel >:)

The Return of "Violet"

  Wind is going to owe Four big time.

  Of all the things to ever happen, he, a pirate, has been caught stealing, and honestly it’s probably the most ashamed he’s felt since he was seven and put a hole in the roof of their house while playing with Aryll. In this instance though, he’s not going to have his sweet and understanding granny that he’s answering too. No, this time he has to answer to Four, and probably someone else after that, because with the way things are going, he’s going to need more than just Four’s help to get out of this one.

  They’re in his era, visiting one of the islands that he and Tetra had discovered after their adventures together. That almost makes it worse though because they’re here with Tetra. After finding themselves on Dragon Roost Island he’d managed to get ahold of her through the gossip stones, and although she charges worse fees than even Ravio (as Legend had made a point of complaining about) she and her crew have agreed to let the heroes sail with them until they find whatever it is that caused them to be brought to this era. So far though, they’ve had little to no luck, and for the time being, the ship is docked here while they gather supplies and allow the land-lubbers now in their company to enjoy being on land for a short bit while Tetra and the others do… pirate-y things. That was what she said they’d be doing anyway, and the heroes, in the interest of not inviting trouble for once in their lives, hadn’t asked.

  Wind knows. Usually he’d be with them, but right now he’s a hero first and a pirate second, and so he’s with the heroes instead, picking his way through the bustling market with Four while the other heroes busy themselves at stands. Currently, Legend is trying to teach Wild some form of bartering, because the champion repeatedly has been overcharged already for basic items since, apparently, in his world those prices would fly. Not in this one though, and not with Legend in their group. 

  Twilight’s following after them, an amused expression on his face as he sits back and lets the vet have his way with teaching the champion, shaking his head and chuckling every so often at the duo as he turns and glances back to wherever the nearest brother is and exchanging silent words with them about it all.

  Time is the most frequent receiver of Twilight’s laden stares, and the old man himself likewise shakes his head with a small smile before turning back to the captain’s side as Warriors picks over a display of knives that has been laid out in one of the nearby stalls.

  The market is a colourful place, beautiful too, in its own unique way. Sea-salt breezes are carried up the island cliffs to them and play around their ears and hair, sending windchimes singing and overhanging fabrics and tarps swaying. Most are tightly tied down, providing brief shade to those who step beneath their protection and into the realm of one vendor or another, who will only too happily try and cheat newcomers out of their wages and will banter and barter in loud and fast moving phrases with the more experienced buyer.

  Honestly, he’s surprised that Legend’s keeping up.

  Colour surrounds them. In visiting the other eras, he’s come to understand that his is one of the more bright, Twilight’s being near drained of colour in most places by comparison. Here in the market though, that fact makes itself most apparent, the overhangs woven in bright jewel tones and tents and stalls hung about with the same over handcrafted poles and tables. The wares are bright and eye-catching too, and Hyrule is currently eyeing them all in awe, as though he’s never seen such an amalgamation of items and beautiful things in his life. He has though, because all of them have had at least a peek inside Legend’s storage shed, and that was truly a sight to see, even if it wasn’t nearly as attractively presented as the stalls and tables here.

  As for himself, Wind’s more looking around for anything relatively useful, but more than anything, he’s keeping his ears open for the telltale sound of bombs going off, just in case he needs to create a distraction to keep the others from investigating. That would be incredibly awkward and he’s not keen on having to answer for that particular set of crimes.

  Not that he ends up having to, because by the time that the bombs do go off (because of course they do) the heroes are too busy dealing with another issue.

  It’s an artefact that catches his eye. Not one from his time either, but one he remembers seeing at the Hero’s Shrine in Warriors Hyrule at the Skyview Temple. Well, it had been the Skyview Temple, back in Sky’s time, but he’s not sure what it was being called in the captain’s era. It’d become something of a hall of history to the Hylian people, and there were shrines there for the heroes of the past, set in different alcoves, and the item in question had been one laid in the one for the veteran hero himself.

  It was probably the first time he’d ever found out anything about Legend. Ravio had taken one look at the shrine and started talking about each of the items and their abilities, and while he’s not entirely sure what this particular rod does, he does know that Ravio had seemed very nervous about it being left at a shrine where someone could steal it. He’d been even more nervous though when someone had stolen it. Wind’s not sure who it had been, and at the merchant’s warnings the captain had had them all search and investigate, but the war took the most of their attention and the search had to be abandoned when the enemy had started moving again.

  He’s still not sure what the thing really does, but he knows it’s the same one as he remembers. It’s just too similar to what he remembers, and the sight of it causes a sinking feeling to make itself known in his stomach.

  “Shit.”

  “Language,” Four murmurs to him, distracted, “cap doesn’t like that kind of talk.”

  Usually he’d snicker at something like that, he imagines he’s probably half the reason that joke is still running (because Four knows he’ll still be laughing) but this time he’s too distracted for that.

  “Four, I have to commit a crime.”

  The smithy doesn’t even startle, just turns to him with a face far too calm as green eyes search his own. “What sort?” The question is spoken as calmly and casually as if asking after a flavour of pie, but he knows, based off of the fact that Four is looking at him at all, that he’s got the smithy’s full attention.

  “I need to steal something.”

  “Not so loud about it,” the smithy snorts, setting a hand on one hip and side-eyeing him with a playful look, “I thought you were supposed to be a pirate. Isn’t announcing your pillaging against some code?”

  “No, it’s not like that,” he catches the smithy’s wrist and tugs, and while Four stumbles just a bit, he lets himself be pulled a bit closer to the stall so Wind can point out the rod sitting innocuously amidst jewellery and fabric, like some sort of stylized cane or staff instead of a Cautious Ravio level of Dangerous Item. “I need to steal that.”

  Four hums. “Okay, and you’re telling me…”

  “I need your help.”

  He expects some hesitation or thought, but all Four does is cock his head, stare at the item, one hand reaching to stroke his chin before aborting with a shrug. “Okay.”

  He really thought Four would be more against crimes than this. Still, a partner in crime is a partner in crime (in this case literally) and Four seems to take no issue with following him over to the stall in question. He’s not sure, off the top of his head, how he plans to go about stealing the thing, but he’s a pirate and he’s good at theft, he can handle this.

  As it would turn out, he does not end up needing to handle this, which turns out to be for the better, because the merchant who owns the stall watches him like a hawk. Of course theft would be a common problem in a place such as this, and apparently Wind, lanky, young, still just this side of man-hood, looks all too well the part of a troublesome youth looking to score a steal, and no matter if a customer comes to the stall or not, the man seems to keep an eye on him at all times.

  Fortunately, Four, well dressed in bright jewel tones as he is, is not regarded with such distaste. If anything, the merchant motions to the smithy while speaking to a patron and points out “the cute lil’ lass” which Wind only very nearly prevents himself from laughing at.

  Dark eyes trail back to him coldly at the coughing he makes while trying to avoid laughter though, but then the man is turning back to his patron. “Recken she’s some small thing from these merchant folk, her da’ll pay well for whatever catches her fancy, all these rich folks are that way; coughin’ up rupees fer what’er pleased their kids.”

  With an eye on his customer and one on Wind, the merchant doesn’t have enough eyes to catch the scathing glance the smithy shoots the man’s way at hearing that.

  Four would usually correct someone, but considering they’re trying to keep a low profile, the smithy blessedly keeps his mouth shut.

  Wind turns back to a pile of jewellery. Absently, he wonders if he could barter a ring out of the man to provide a window for Four to stash the rod in his pack or something.

  He doesn’t get the chance to try.

  “Hoy there! Where do you think you’re going, lass!” 

  The sailor spins about just in time to see the merchant catch Four by the back of his bright tunic, and…

  Oh Spirits, Four didn’t even bother to stash the rod. Is this the first time the smithy has stollen something? 

  In hindsight, it probably is; Four’s fame in his home era after all did start with him vanquishing pirates and dealing with thieves.

  And that’s how they end up as they are. The merchant goes from laughing and smiling at the smithy to trying to twist the small hero’s arm and demanding answers about where he’s going, and- well, what was Wind supposed to do?

  “Hey!” He squawks, and yes, he most certainly did overturn that display on purpose as he rushes over to his brother’s side. “Let go!”

  “You’re together then,” the man hisses, narrowing his eyes, “I shoulda guessed. What respectable lass goes snoopin’ about without a guard or her mam around to watch that she ain’t taken? Thieves, the both of you!”

  “We’re not thieves!” Wind protests, despite the fact that they are, in fact, thieves. Well, he is anyway. “We’re just kids!” And then, as inspiration hits, he adds, “now let my little sister go!” Oh yeah, he’s so going to owe Four one after this.

  Luckily, Four doesn’t stumble once, instead squirming in the man’s hands and, somehow, managing to muster up a stream of tears as he fights weakly (as a small child would) against the hands restraining him. “Let me go!” The smithy squeaks, “I just wanted to show Mama!”

  “‘Show mama’?” the man mocks, and shakes Four harder than is probably safe to shake a child, “and where’s your mama at, little miss snitch?”

  “Right here.”

  Wind could kiss Legend on the cheek, although he’d probably owe the vet even more if he did after the man has just stepped in to save their asses, Twilight and Wild both on his heels.

  Oh crap, this is going to become another Violet situation isn’t it?

  “Mum!” it bursts out of him as he darts to the vet’s side, hands catching on red fabric as he looks up at the vet as though pleading for help, and he is, he is so pleading. He is pleading so very much and genuinely, see? 

  No really, he really is. He really didn’t think this one through. 

  “We were just looking, I swear, and Violet wanted to show you something, but this mean man-”

  Twilight is staring. Twilight and Wild are both starring in something between shock and confusion and Wild’s brows are very quickly disappearing under his hair as they rise higher and higher with every word out of Wind’s throat.

  Oh yeah, he’s going to owe Legend big time.

  “Mama!” Four wails, quite convincingly as he kicks at his captor, “make him let me go!”

  For a brief moment, Wind can see the resignation and pain in Legend’s eyes, but then the vet is steeling himself and then, at the very top of his lungs (which only drives home how much like last time this will be) shouts “let go of my child, you horrid man!” in what is possibly the most hystericaly angry voice Wind has heard from anyone, never mind from the vet.

  Wild chokes.

  The scream, however, has what he can only assume is the intended effect, because the crowd immediately near them all whips around so fast he’s sort of shocked they don’t downright fall over, and then all eyes are on them.

  Again.

  Well, apparently if Legend’s going to cover up for your crimes and save your ass he’s going to do it by being as loud as possible. Honestly, Wind doesn’t care, as long as it works.

  It does work. The man immediately lets go of Four, and then the smithy is all but flinging himself into the veteran’s arms, where he’s immediately caught and held while Legend once more adopts the same act as the time before, fussing and murmuring with terrifyingly believable distress as he looks at the bruising on Four’s arm and then immediately pulls the smithy closer, looking up at the merchant with fury in his eyes. “How could you do this to a child! She was only looking, she wasn’t causing any harm!”

  Frosty violet eyes fix the merchant in place, and the man takes a step back at the sight of them.

  Two kids causing trouble, he was prepared for. What appears to be a finely dressed young mother who perceives her child to have been attacked, he was not prepared for at all. “She was stealing!”

  “She’s only eight!” Wind protests, wrapping an arm around Four’s shoulders and pouting up at the man accusingly, but also cutely because he needs to play up the role of a child right now, rather than even try and look at all serious and mature like he usually would try to. 

  “She’s only eight!” Legend repeats, likeways wrapping an arm around Wind. “How dare you! It’s her first time at a big market, how was she to know the rules! I’m teaching her the best I can but I can only be so many places at once!”

  Past the vet’s arm, and now that the attention is on Legend and not himself, Wind can glance out and see the crowd. Eyes are fixed on them, murmurs already rising and disapproving looks being shot at the merchant even as crystal tears in amethyst eyes begin to garner sympathy and pity from the onlookers while Legend switches out the furious mother act for the overworked and struggling one.

  Amidst it all, Wind can clearly see Time and Warriors, watching them. Time has the most confused expression on his face, neither privy to the events of last time or apparently aware of what’s happening now, but Warriors…

  Oh gods, Warriors looks so done already.

  “I don’t care how old she is, a thief is a thief!” The merchant yells, and with his words, Legend starts back, dragging Four and Wind with him and drawing the sailor’s attention back to the man before them. Said man is currently red in the face and huffing, both trying to uphold his right to punish the thieves who attempted to steal from him, but also under the judgemental stares of the whole market.

  “You can’t hold a child responsible for such a silly mistake!”

  “You’re right,” the man breathes, and while it almost sounds like he’s trying to contain and calm himself, Wind sees the flash of his eyes before the man steps closer and raises a hand, definitely and truly beyond reason at this point, “the parents are the ones to be held responsible.”

  Legend could catch that hand. Wind could, Four could. Any one of them could do something to avoid it, but that would come at the cost of dropping the act, and while unspoken, the rule remains to never drop an act, although at what cost he’s not sure.

  “Stop right there!”

  Hang on, is that-? And it is.

  Warriors is storming over, and it’s such a dramatic and poetic image; the captain stalking along the street, armour glistening and scarf billowing out behind, that if he wasn’t playing a part, Wind would definitely be grinning a bit at it. After all, it’s like something straight out of one of the stories he’d told Aryll when they were kids. Well, younger kids.

  To the merchant however, Wind knows that’s not the case. The merchant sees the blazing blue eyes and the silver sword and he stops mid-swing, face paling as the captain comes to stand beside the three younger heroes, hand settling on Legend’s shoulder and stare stone cold. As someone who's seen that stare employed before, Wind’s honestly surprised the man doesn’t piss himself.

 “Lay a hand on my family,” the captain growls, and yes, he actually growls, “and I’ll cut it off.”

  Twilight whistles lowly.

  Oh dang, add Warriors to the list of people he owes. This is really getting out of hand.

  “Who are you?” The man stammers, stepping back but not away, gaze trailing up and across the knight and taking in sparkling armour and steely stare, sweat beading across the salesman's face with each passing second.

  “Papa,” Four whimpers, and oh gosh he’s good, “I was just trying to show Mama the pretty staff…”

  “I see.” Warriors doesn’t even look down to the smithy still plastered across Legend’s front, instead staring until the merchant squirms under his gaze. “What pretty staff, precious?”

  Oh no. Oh Hylia, the endearments. Oh gods Wars is so going to sit him down about this. Endearments aren’t uncommon from the captain, but “precious”? Oh no, that one isn’t one he uses, and it’s a clear warning to the sailor at least that he’s going to be answering a lot of questions later.

  Dang it, all this over a stupid rod!

  “That one,” Four turns and points to the item lying on the ground by their feet, “I thought it looked like something Mama could use for her magic.”

  Ah, yes Four, drop the fact that Legend can do magic, that’ll definitely scare the shit out of those present and hopefully convince this guy to just let the scoot. Please? Please let that work?

  Except it doesn’t because Warriors recognizes the item too, and he’s bending to scoop up the troublesome rod in question even as the merchant protests and splutters.

  “Ah.”

  Oh yeah, someone’s screwed.

  “Is that…” Legend pauses, and the act drops for a moment, however brief, as he stares at the item. His item. His thing that Ravio never explained but said was his and which now looks very, very old.

  “Where did you get this?” Warriors demands, and now he really is mad. Someone threatening to hit his family is bad, but knowing Wars, he wasn’t really all that mad since he knows they can all defend themselves with ease. Stealing from a shrine? Yeah no, that’s territory even Wind isn’t willing to cross.

  The merchant huffs. He’s got guts, Wind will give him that. A lesser man would have caved or run away or even just tried to snivel and plead to avoid the wrath of this odd little family and the crowd watching them, but he doesn’t, and for that Wind has to give him props. He’s got guts. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I traded for it. It’s a powerful magical rod, capable of-”

  “Nothing.” Legend interjects, releasing his hold on Wind (rude) to reach for the rod in the captain’s hand, and Warriors lets him, gaze trailing down to watch the vet inspect the thing with a frown. “It’s damaged,” Legend continues, frowning as gnarled fingers trace the stone set on top, the actual source of the thing’s supposed magic. A sigh. “Violet, this was hardly worth the fuss,” the vet frowns and hands the item off, casually, to the captain.

  Warriors holds it, scowling. “Probably best if we didn't buy it then, love. Besides, it being stolen from a shrine, Hylia only knows what sort of curses the gods would have put on it.”

  Oh. Oh yes. Wind is very near smiling, but doesn’t even as he watches his older brothers play it out perfectly, not a word passed between to communicate, not even a look, but picking up the threads the other lays with all the skill of the most masterful weaver of lies, and it’s working too. While the heroes look at each other in confusion, and Twilight is sort of smirking in that utterly lost and confused but also humored way he does, the merchant is quickly paling again.

  “Cursed?”

  “Of course,” Legend scoffs, straightening up but not shaking off the arm Warriors still has about his shoulders, “anything stolen from a shrine would be cursed. The souls of the dead never take kindly to people disrespecting them so blatantly.”

  “But I didn’t steal it!” The man protests.

  The vet sniffs, tossing his head and looking down his nose at the man, even as the captain follows his lead and likewise stares the man down with all the revulsion one would assume someone married to a great mage might have. “That hardly matters, sir. Frankly, anyone who disrespects such a sacred thing, be it in sale or theft, is simply begging suffering on themselves, and I’m hardly inclined to wish that upon my children.”  Violet eyes then turn to them, and both he and Four can feel the weight and warning in them as Legend stares, not dropping the act but also not entirely acting anymore. “Which is why I’ll be sure to make sure this never happens again.”

  It won’t.

  “All the same, love,” Warriors murmurs, and there’s a step made, and they pulled along, “it’s likely best if we finish our business as soon as possible. I’d rather we head back to the ship and leave port before whatever bad fortune that thing is cursed with reveals itself.” He shakes his head, staring at the item even as the vet takes his lead and starts ushering both younger heroes away. “They say that shrine was one for a goddess’ son, so I can only imagine how that will play out.”

  The weight of their words seems to hit as the captain makes a turn, and while Wind can’t see it, he can definitely hear the feet pattering after them and the man calling out, now suddenly closer. It makes him stop and try to peek around Legend, who sighs but follows his lead to look as the man thrusts the rod in question at their captain. “Please! If you know where it’s from, send it back! Maybe the spirits will forgive me if I restore what was taken from them. Please sir!”

  “After you attacked my wife and child?” And Warriors definitely learned that haughty, contemptuous voice from all the balls and dealings with nobles he’s suffered through after the war, “I don’t think so.”

  “But you know where it came from!” The man tries, “I don’t!”

  “Darling,” and the word almost grates off of Legend’s lips, hand coming to settle in the crook of the captain’s arm.

  Wind is going to owe Legend the best freaking thing ever, although what, he’s not sure, since Legend has everything already.

  “Perhaps we should help.”

  “Someone like this?” He has no clue why Warriors is making this harder than it has to be, and with the attention of all others on the captain and vet, he and Four exchange a quick glance of confusion.

  “Think of all the innocent people this fool has endangered,” Legend continues, still glaring at the man and item in question. “We can’t let his greed and foolishness cause their demise! Such a thing would surely disrupt the spirits even further.”

  Ah yes, the warning of a mage. It sets the people about them fussing and worrying, until there are others stepping out from the crowd and begging until at last Warriors 'concedes’ and accepts the rod, which is quickly handed back to its original owner and stashed away in the vet’s bag.

  That should be the end of it, but like last time, it’s not. Because people.

  Wind really loves people most times, but right now he’d rather they just… not. He’d rather they not watch, or worry, or fuss. He’d rather not, but he’s sure that even if they didn’t, Legend would still be catching Four’s hand as they walk and Warriors would still be setting a hand on his shoulder that is heavy, oh so very heavy.

  He’d also rather they not because when he sees Tetra staring at him from within the crowd, face red with unreleased laughter, he can’t do anything about it except keep his head down and silently bemoan the loss of whatever sort of respect he may have gained among his fellow pirates.

  He botched a simple theft. He had to be rescued by a soldier and a teenage boy in a dress pretending to be his mother.

  He is never going to live this down.

  “At least,” Four murmurs, once they’ve moved to the edge of the market, finished with their shopping and with the eyes of the others all trailing after them with innumerable questions, “I got to be older this time.”

  Legend sighs, releasing the smithy’s hand to rub at his temples, figure blocked by the captain’s own and thus out of sight of the market behind them. “Oy vey, you two.”

  “We owe you guys big time,” he tries.

  Warriors snorts, grip tightening on his shoulder. “You owe us an explanation, but yeah, big time, sailor.”

  Ahead, the ship is waiting, Tetra leaning against the bulwarks and smirking down at him with danger in her eyes and laughter already touching her lips, and Wind sighs.

  This is never going to go away.

  He kind of regrets teasing Legend now for last time.

[robot-singularity]

Looks like those left a mark, huh

[icefang111]

U know my priorities are wack when I'm like "yes yes aidrian and marionette are having a very important story/interpersonal fight but How Are We Getting The Gala Order Done On Time NOW?!" And that's what giving me the anxiety sweats.

[familiaanteomnia]

starter call

-click like for a starter -open to everybody/all muses available (just let me know who you want/which of your muses if ur a fellow multi) -length/theme will vary but also feel free to hit me up for plotting or if you want a few changes etc (obviously pretty please i’d be stoked if somebody let me write gabriel since he’s literally got like to the stratosphere muse and loads of my writing motivation right now tbh he kinda woke up writing motivation in general for the moment hence why this is an all muse call)

[tacit-semantics]

Ok you know there was a part of me that kinda thought I made it all up but like four days into extended contact with the majority of my family and we are once again reaching levels of batshit heretofore unknown to man

[inkyajax]

r u ok clari? 🥺

no lmao not even close

[inkykeiji]

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side. 

Yet. 

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you. 

“Touya.” 

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons. 

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.  

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on. 

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you. 

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame. 

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer. 

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips. 

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!” 

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!” 

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.” 

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling. 

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…” 

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!” 

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull. 

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.  

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him. 

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye. 

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!” 

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.” 

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech. 

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute. 

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten. 

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process? 

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya? 

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him. 

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly. 

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times. 

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man. 

 So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw. 

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.” 

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder. 

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?” 

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once. 

“I was overheating, and he…” 

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours. 

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice. 

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.” 

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat. 

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?” 

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face. 

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?” 

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.” 

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin. 

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.” 

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever. 

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you. 

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it. 

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much. 

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine. 

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.” 

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face. 

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh. 

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up. 

Sicko. 

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams. 

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.” 

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth. 

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin. 

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt. 

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction. 

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?” 

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?” 

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think? 

“You know.”

He does, of course he does. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.” 

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny. 

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring. 

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.” 

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?” 

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action. 

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full. 

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.” 

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?” 

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips. 

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?” 

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him? 

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!” 

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not. 

“Please, please—” 

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar. 

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips. 

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything. 

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs. 

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.” 

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him. 

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul. 

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable. 

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”  

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.” 

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues. 

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.” 

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!” 

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock. 

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.” 

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!” 

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.” 

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue. 

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!” 

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls. 

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?” 

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues. 

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.” 

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?” 

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly! 

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat. 

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?” 

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue. 

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples. 

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction. 

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you. 

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!” 

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords. 

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?” 

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.” 

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact. 

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails. 

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit. 

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw  by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling. 

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively. 

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?” 

“I always do, don’t I?” 

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone. 

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking. 

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips. 

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.” 

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin. 

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt. 

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more. 

So cute. 

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips. 

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole. 

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal. 

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis. 

“Fuck, f-fuck—” 

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch. 

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever. 

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name. 

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm. 

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum. 

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!” 

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!” 

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix. 

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs. 

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one. 

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs. 

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now? 

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin. 

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.” 

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob. 

“The dream, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.” 

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude. 

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter. 

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him. 

[k4g3hika]

CONSUME ━ imagine!

suna rintarou x fem!reader

summary: suna rintarou was hard to love, you knew this from the beginning. but when you overhear him admitting how he truly felt about you, it hurt to decide whether to let him go, or let your love for him continuously consume you.

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 6.2k

tags: this is the longest imagine that i’ve ever written 😭 it was a pain in the ass to write but i hope you guys like it :)

Sometimes, you think it’s hard to love Suna.

Suna is calculating and quiet, the reasons exactly why you find it difficult to continuously pine for him. Though, you already knew he was going to act like this. You’ve gone to school with Suna since elementary, and have even lived in the same neighbourhood since childhood, but you don’t think he knows that.

The thing is, you know Suna, but you don’t think he knows you. Every morning since you were six years old, you’ve seen him make his way to school, but you’ve never had the courage to walk up to him and say ‘hi’. For years, the only parts of Suna that you were able to truly admire were his back and his hair, from behind. The both of you have never been in the same friend group, class, or extra-curricular activity, until your second-year of high school.

You precisely remember the moment you stepped into the gymnasium to introduce yourself as the new manager of the team. It was a rainy day and you were excited, albeit, a little nervous, but irregardless, excited because you know and love volleyball. The sport connected with some of your childhood memories, as you recall playing it with your older brother. Too bad your physical skills weren’t up to par with the school’s expectations, or else you would’ve been on the team. Their loss though, because you found your strategy and knowledge of the sport to be your strongest feature as a player.

As a result of the girl’s team already having a manager, the coach recommended you to try signing up for the role of manager for the boy’s team. Now, you didn’t mind being around boys. Your older brother was enough for you to build up the courage against the challenge that is the hygiene and personality, or well, lack thereof, of boys.

However, the courage built over the years was not enough to stop your surprise at seeing none other than Suna Rintarou, from the front.

He looked completely different from what you remember him looking like. For some reason, you still had the young image of Suna in your head. The Suna you remember had puffy cheeks and neat hair, but this new Suna, was mature, older, and way more handsome. His cheeks thinned out and highlighted a sharp jawline that made his face look so clean-cut, unlike his hair that was messy and all over the place. But, if anything, you think that you prefer this Suna.

Because, God, it made him so much more attractive.

Now, it’s been about three months since you’ve become manager, and in those three months, you’ve tried to show Suna just how much you love him. The years of no talking and never meeting each other were all building up for you, and you just wanted to show him all of the care and affection you’ve held for him over the years.

You’ve cooked bento boxes and given them to him, you’ve filled his water bottle with the expensive electrolytes from the convenience store ten minutes away from the school before every practice, and who couldn’t forget, you make sure that his towel was clean and warm beside his gym bag, so that he wouldn’t use the same one for weeks until it reeked. Your affection was clearly shown through your actions and you prayed to the heavens that he would just notice you. Maybe say a ‘thank you’ or even a little head pat, you really don’t care, just some recognition would make you feel rewarded after all the hard work you’ve done for him.

But, the bento boxes were returned to you either by, Atsumu or Osamu, Suna drank the expensive electrolyte water, however, he seemed to not notice that it was you who put all the thought and care behind the action, and his towel was always just thrown to the side alongside the other towels. Even though the towel you prepped was a personal one from home that had your initials hand sewn in the corner. You thought that at one point he would’ve acknowledged you, but the gratefulness never came.

It didn’t matter though. Because you knew in your heart that you loved Suna Rintarou, and there was nothing that could change that. Even if you did all the sincere actions for him until the both of you graduated and he never noticed you, just knowing that he at least saw the bento box, the water bottle, and your towel, was enough to put a smile on your face. You would show Suna that you love him, ten times over.

“Y/N! Earth to Y/N!” Your head snaps over to your right, seeing the coach look at you with concern. Embarrassed that he caught you in your daily Suna trance, your cheeks heats up and you push yourself to your feet.

“Coach!”

“I thought you would never hear me. Listen, I don’t know what’s taking all your attention away, but can you please head down to the locker room and tell the boys that they need to make their way over here. The drill we spoke about yesterday is a bit complicated, so I would like to get started as soon as possible.” Nodding, you bow and begin to make your way over to the club room.

Your heart begins to speed up a bit, as the thought of seeing Suna shirtless makes your chest burn and your face hot. By all means, you are not a pervert! But just seeing him with all his muscles in the bright fluorescent light of the locker room looked like a cover of a sports magazine.

Suna Rintarou makes you feel so nervous. Unfortunately, you find yourself relishing in the minimal acknowledgement that he gives you, thriving off of the fact that you were in a club that just allowed you to be around him. Maybe it was a sign from the heavens that you weren’t physically athletic, but strategically, which resulted in your application as Boys Volleyball team manager. You’d like to think that despite his ignorance, it was in both of your guys’ destinies to end up with another.

Maybe the both of you were the main characters of a drama, where, despite all the bumps in the plot, you will always find each other being drawn to one another. Yet again, that was all just your stupid imagination, but one can dream, right?

Giggling to yourself, you were about to knock on the locker room door, before you heard loud voices through the small space between the door and the wall. It sounded like they were bickering with one another, and you begin to wonder if it’s Atsumu and Osamu fighting again, while everyone just stood around and observed. Normally, you would be the one to beg them to stop while Kita jumped in after you to pull them apart. But, now that you weren’t inside, you begin to push open the door at the possibility.

“...Y/N?” Your actions falter at the sound of your name.

‘Are they talking about me?’ Before you could do anything, you lean your ear in just to get a snippet of what they were talking about. You know what they say though, curiosity was what killed the cat.

“Come on Sunarin! You have to like Y/N! She’s so cute, and she cooks you all those bento boxes! If that isn’t girlfriend material, then I don’t know what is.” Hearing Atsumu praise you for your efforts made you smile, trying to hide it by covering your mouth with your hand.

“And, let’s not forget how she already likes you. C’mon Rintarou, we’ve seen her personally hand you your water bottle,” The voice you assume to be Ojiro teases, while everyone in the room laughs.

“Oh yeah!! I’ve seen those expensive electrolyte packets in her bag, man, how does it feel to receive such special treatment from Y/N?”

‘So my actions don’t go unnoticed.’ Your smile grows bigger, clutching your clipboard closer to your chest when feeling just how full your heart is with everyone’s recognition.

“Stop it guys.” Suna’s smooth voice finally enters the picture and you try to stop yourself from giggling out loud. “She’s our manager.”

“So?!? Man, that’s even better! You won’t have a girlfriend who doesn’t understand the importance of the sport. If anything, Y/N is more committed than you, maybe you will be the one competing for her attention against the club,” you hear smooching sounds and Atsumu speaks in a voice that tries to mock Suna’s, but did a terrible job.

“Y/N~ don’t forget all about me!! I love you Y/N~!” More kissing sounds can be heard, and everyone in the room laughs one more time.

The joy in your heart would’ve been extended, if it weren’t for the sudden aggravated scoff from Suna, and the slapping of a towel on bare skin. Atsumu yelps and the room suddenly dies down from the initial humorous atmosphere.

“Man, shut up. I don’t like Y/N. She’s alright, I guess.” a locker door slams shut, “But sometimes, she's just so... annoying. I don't know how much longer I can put up with it. And you know, after a while, it just comes off as desperate.”

‘Desperate? I’m not desperate.’ You weren’t keen on Suna noticing you. You just liked doing all those things for him, it showed you cared, and that he was at least deserving of some special treatment, because he was a very special person in your life.

“I feel bad for her,” he continues, “spending all that time doing shit for someone that doesn’t even like her. I can’t say anything though, cause she’s our manager and I don’t want the team to feel awkward. I guess I just have to suffer with her smothering me all the damn time.”

At that, you feel your once fluttering heart stop. You feel tears beginning to make their way to fall from your eyes, as your face begins to feel hot, but not in a blushing way. More like in a, you were about to sob out loud and the tears probably wouldn’t stop for a while, way.

You loved Suna. He didn’t have to love you back, the least you were asking for was for him to say ‘thank you’. But it appeared that your affection didn’t appear as a display of your love, but something that bothered him. Annoying him to the point of seeing your actions as suffocating. But that didn’t entirely bother you.

It was the fact that he didn’t even want to tell you to stop. He was going to live like that until high school was over, because you were the team’s manager, and it would be ‘awkward’. You begin to overthink.

What if you kept on going about cooking those bento boxes for him, filling his water up with electrolytes, and bringing a special towel from home, all warm and clean, without knowing what he actually thought of your displays of affection? You would’ve lived thinking that Suna somewhat appreciated it. Possibly having the idiotic thought that he was just shy, and maybe didn’t know how to exactly tell you that he liked you.

You are such a dumbass.

You begin to tremble, the pen that was once held up by your clipboard clattering to the ground and startling you. It brought you back to your situation, seeing the door still somewhat closed in front of you. Out of fear that they were going to see you and realise that you were eavesdropping, you ditch the pen and begin to run back to the gym.

You were going to tell the coach that you were feeling sick. You hope the teary eyes and flushed cheeks will do you justice, and he’ll send you home without any repercussions. But as of right now, nothing matters, all that did was the fact that you were annoying the boy you loved, and that your pillows were waiting to welcome your tears until tomorrow morning.

—

It’s been two days. Have you missed school for the past two days? Absolutely not. Suna wasn’t going to make you miss class, as much as you wanted to, you know that if you were going to skip, the school will inform your parents, and that last thing you want is your parents to get involved.

It’s just been two days since you’ve been to volleyball practice. You haven’t been missing your duties at all though. Yes, you’ve been in contact with the coach and Kita, with them informing you on the notes of the team and each player’s performance. The reason for that being, some coaches from Tokyo were planning to head down to Hyogo for a volleyball camp. The team needs to know what they have to improve on, and unfortunately, though you felt as if you weren’t in the right state of mind, you had to fulfil your duties as a manager.

You’re not over Suna, and to be honest, you don’t think you ever will be. He’s been such a constant force in your life, that a lifetime without his presence captivating your mind felt impossible to even conjure. You love Suna Rintarou, but you guess you would just have to hold it inside until the both of you go your separate ways. Maybe then you’ll get over him, but the possibility seemed unlikely.

You just have to give up expecting the response to your love that you’ve been hoping for your entire life.

Checking the cafeteria and seeing if you had enough food supply for three volleyball teams, their respective coaches, and their managers. It seemed like a chore to do all on your own, and it was. But you committed to being the team manager. Suna wasn’t going to change that whether he liked it or not.

“Y/N, the Tokyo teams will be arriving soon. Coach says you need to head to the front and help him with dorm placement.” Sighing and nodding, you get up from your squatting position from the bottom shelf. Kita notices your negative mood, by being the observant asshole that he is. As you were about to exit out the only doorway, he grabs your forearm, holding you back from actually leaving. His sudden touch surprised you, resulting in you jolting back. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you okay?”

His concern falters your thoughts and movements. In all the time that you’ve been manager of the volleyball team, Kita has never really shown you that much care for how you felt. It surprised you a bit, seeing how concerned he looked for your wellbeing.

Yet again, he’s Suna’s friend.

“I’m okay, why do you ask?” He didn’t believe you, that was clear. It was so obvious when his facial expression did not change, Kita was still staring intently at you. It almost felt like he was trying to read your mind.

“You dropped your pen, by the way.” Taking it out of his pocket, Kita hands you your familiar piece of stationary, not thinking about it, you grab it from his hand. “I know you were by the locker room when Suna said what he said.”

‘Oh shit.’ You felt your heart come to a stop, yet again.

“W-What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that after Suna said that about you, I found your pen in front of the locker room door, and you didn’t show up to practise till today? Y/N, I’m not sure if you’ve failed to learn something about me, but I can tell you that I am not an idiot.”

His words caught you off-guard. Kita managed to figure out what was wrong with you, without even knowing who you were. To be honest, it scared you a bit, getting a glimpse of what Kita can truly find out when he concentrated hard enough. You admire that about him.

Taking your silence as you not knowing what to say, Kita lets go of your forearm and sighs.

“Suna didn’t mean what he said. He’s a very thoughtful individual who was pressured into saying those things by the team. You know how they are. Please try to see things from his perspective, as Suna is often misunderstood.” He begins to walk away, but leaves with a final word, “I’m not telling you to change how you feel about the situation. You have a right to feel how you feel. But, don’t take Suna’s words too seriously.” Kita walks away, leaving you alone in the cafeteria.

‘Did he just say not to take the insults Suna threw at you seriously?’ The aggression left behind the negativity a few days ago wants to say, absolutely not. What Kita said is unfair, to you and your feelings. Suna called you annoying and said you were smothering him, how can you jump around that? So far you haven’t had a night where you haven’t thought about how…mean Suna was. You thought that he only would’ve been mean to Atsumu or the others, but not you, never you.

It’s safe to say that your mind felt like it was on the verge of exploding. It was so stressful to choose whether or not you should believe Kita and show Suna your love again, or just ignore him like what you’ve been doing for the past couple of days.

You think that it’s best to just…not think about the problem. It’s a situation for later, for now, the camp and most importantly, the team needs your utmost attention.

‘God, I hate high school.’

—

“Hey Suna, you good?” Suna takes a sip of water from his bottle, noting that it tasted different from usual. Nodding, he wipes his sweat off with a spare shirt from his bag, also becoming aware that the towel that he was given wasn’t the usual soft one that he had from the beginning of the year. This one was coarse and rough, making him pick up the shirt he intended to wear if he got too sweaty.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Hey, does the water taste a bit weird? Like, spoiled or somethin’ cause it doesn’t taste like how it usually does.” Osamu’s eyebrow raises, grabbing the bottle from Suna’s hands despite his protests, and tasting his friend’s drink. To him, it tasted normal, like the normal water that came from the water fountain.

“No…it tastes like how it usually does?”

“Nah, can’t be man. The water I usually have is sweeter and it tastes like fruit juice. This shit tastes weird.” Suna’s face scrunches up, tasting his water again to see if he was just hallucinating the lack of flavour in his water. It’s stupid, how much he’s overthinking the flavour of something that he shouldn’t think that much about. But he hates how regular water tastes like, only really drinking it if he has to.

Observing Suna, it clicks in Osamu’s head what was missing from the water.

In the past, he has noticed you getting out a packet of electrolytes and putting it into Suna’s bottle with a sincere smile on your face. You looked so cute and happy, it puzzled him why you didn’t tell Suna that it was you that was making his water suitable to his tastes. The silent display of affection made him so jealous, he could only wish that he had someone that cared that much.

“What if you ask Y/N? She’s the one who fills up the water bottles anyway, she should know.” Osamu jogs back to the court, practising once more with the team captain. Inquisitively, Suna does remember that you fill up the water bottles. He also remembered how you asked him once at the beginning of the school year what his favourite drink was, and he only shrugged, saying that he likes fruit chuupets, and ever since then, his water tasted like the familiar fruity taste. Wanting to know why his water hasn’t been tasting like it as of late, it prompted him to go on a search for you. Damn warmups, he needs to know why his water doesn’t have the same taste than it usually does.

Looking around the gym, he sees your figure turn into the hallway. Following you, he begins to walk faster in order to catch up to you, thinking about what to say to you in his head, without coming across as mean.

‘Y/N, why does my water taste bad?’ No. ‘Y/N, why doesn’t my water taste like fruit?’ No, he’s going to sound stuck up. ‘Y/N, why does my water taste like everyone else’s?’ Oh God no, that sounds even worse.

‘Y/N, is there something different about my water?’ There you go. That should sound right.

He was ready to confront you, preparing himself to call out your name. But before he could do so,

“Dove!” Suna’s head snaps to the loud voice in front of him, and so does yours, as a tall, lanky, goofy-looking boy makes his way towards you. Much to Suna’s dismay, for some reason, a smile etches itself onto your face as the other man approaches you. “I thought I would never find you.”

“Tetsu, aren’t you supposed to be practising with your team? You shouldn’t be behind here.”

“Well, I just wanted to see my girl. Is there any harm in that, Dove?”

“Tetsu, stop,” you mutter, a bit shy, “I don’t want people from my school to hear you call me that.”

“Aw, you’re still cute as ever. Here, let me help you with that.” Suna sees the guy, ‘Tetsu’, grab the basket of water bottles from your hands. You protest, pouting a bit as Kuroo brings the case above your reach so that you wouldn’t be able to get it back. “I haven’t seen you in awhile Dove, let me be nice, okay?”

Honestly, he personally doesn’t know what overcame him, but out of nowhere Suna coughed loud enough for the pair to hear. He sees you jump a bit, seeing that one of your teammates, catching you in the midst of a conversation while you were supposed to be doing your duties. And it was even worse for you, as not only was it a teammate, but it was Suna. You assume that he probably hates your guts, based on what he said before. Even so, his glare started to make you feel a bit nervous.

“Can I help you?” Kuroo asks Suna as walks up to the both of them.

“I should be asking you that question. Do you need something from my team manager?” Embarrassed, you look down at your feet, trying to avert your eyes from Suna or Kuroo’s.

Kuroo’s eyes squint, looking at the middle-blocker who, to his surprise, matches his height. The both of them begin to have a staring competition, as one or the other refuses to tear away the eye contact. It started to worry you, because it’s almost been two minutes of harsh breathing and aggressive stares.

“O-Okay, I’ll be taking these then.” You grab the crate from Kuroo and begin to make your way to your original location. “Get back to practise guys! Lunch is in thirty!”

“Who are you and why were you talking to Y/N?”

“Woah, woah, buddy, why are you getting protective? Y/N, is a very, very, close friend of mine, so I think that I have a right to approach her right?” Kuroo smirks, stepping closer to Suna as a form of intimidation. “How about you? Are you her boyfriend or something?”

Suna glares at Kuroo, wanting nothing more than to hit him in the jaw. He would, but one, that would take too much of his energy, and two, he’s pretty sure you would hate him if he does. Still, something in Suna just wanted to tell Kuroo that he was your boyfriend just for him to back off.

But he wasn’t. Because he doesn’t like you. He’s sure of that.

“No.” Kuroo laughs, stepping back before turning to make his way back to the gym.

“Well then, that means nothing is stopping me right?” Kuroo walks away, but not before aggressively pushing Suna’s shoulder back with his own. Though, Suna was too concentrated on what the other boy said to even progress the aggression from the other side.

‘What did he mean ‘nothing is stopping him? Is Kuroo going to do something to you? What will Kuroo do that’ll result in Suna blocking him?’

“Sunarin! What are you still doing out here?!” Atsumu shriek could be heard from down the hall, making Suna jump out of his train of thought. He completely forgot that he was even standing here just staring at a wall and thinking of you. That was weird.

He usually never did.

—

The practice game against Inarizaki and Nekoma was…tense.

You could feel the passive aggressiveness coming strangely, from Kuroo and Suna across the net. Everyone else was curious as well, wondering exactly why these two, who’ve never met before, suddenly have a feud similar to that of a world war. At first, you were completely clueless, but then began to wonder if something happened in the hallway after you left.

Maybe Suna said something to tease Kuroo? Or maybe, it was the other way around and now they just want to kill each other.

In the third set at twenty-two points to Inarizaki and twenty-four points to Nekoma, the stakes and the nerves were equally as high. Nekoma has one win and Inarizaki has the other. It seems that this practice game was being played for far more than it actually was, since Kuroo and Suna never acknowledged each other apart from glaring and swearing at each other under their breath. Their respective teams kept asking them if they were okay, both replying with, “yeah, let’s just win.”

“Do you think something happened between Suna and that Nekoma player?” The coach asks you, leaning in and whispering it so that others wouldn’t hear.

“I’m not sure…but they do seem pretty aggressive with one another.”

Then, as you look away for just a moment, a spike comes from Nekoma, but was thankfully received by Kita. Following a set by Atsumu, Osamu jumped to spike it down, but was then blocked by none other than Kuroo himself.

At the brink of time, Ojiro retrieves it back, calling Atsumu to set it once more, this time for Suna to powerfully spike it down, aiding them in their two point loss between them and Nekoma. As Suna jumps up, you see Kuroo and Kenma jump as well.

A feeling of failure begins to settle in your heart.

Suna hits the ball, powerfully, the first time you’ve seen him hit a ball with so much energy.

But the ball immediately lands back down onto the same side, Kita not able to have caught up to it in time. Nekoma cheers out loud, congratulating each other on their hard work.

While Inarizaki lost, they began to support each other for their efforts, but you notice that Suna didn’t look as relieved as the others. His stare is hostile, facing towards the otherside where you see Kuroo looking at him with the same confrontational gaze. You swallow nervously, beginning to make your way towards Suna to pull him back. The Inarizaki boys take notice as well, observing how Suna and Kuroo were both stomping their way to each other. The same feeling of failure seeps into your chest again and you could sense something was going to go terribly wrong–

Suna punched Kuroo in the jaw!

Out of nowhere, a fight begins between the two players, both of them tussling with one another in the middle of the court. Kuroo lands a punch on Suna but is equally stunned when Suna fights back almost immediately after. You notice how Kuroo was pulling at his shirt, trying to bring him closer to land another blow, but fails as Suna strikes him one after the other. Both Nekoma and Inarizaki run up to their players, trying to pull them apart from one another.

The coaches start to shout at their players, ordering them to stop what they were doing at once.

Successfully, they both are torn apart from one another, but still continue to fight the air as they try to continue their brawl.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Your coach asks, trying to instill some discipline into his player. Unfortunately, your heart fails to calm down after witnessing the both of them fight so aggressively. You’ve never seen Suna fight someone, or him be so mad.

Suna looks up, pulling his arms away from his teammates and stares at you.

As the both of you make eye-contact, you refuse to move from your position and remain shaking. Almost as if you gave him an answer to something, Suna walks away, leaving behind everyone in awe.

Just then, you look up at Kita, who nods for you to go.

‘Should I go?’

The memory of him calling you annoying and smothering comes back in your mind.

‘Does he deserve my comfort?’

“Please try to see things from his perspective, as Suna is often misunderstood.”

Putting down the clipboard on the bench, you run outside to try and find Suna. Fall has never been kind to Hyogo, as rain pelts down from the sky, fogging your ability to try and see Suna. You call out his name, but your volume is minute in comparison to the strength of the rain.

Running into the open hallway, you look left and right to try and find the familiar boy. But, no luck. Your heart begins to ache at the realisation that you had no idea where Suna is. You didn’t know what he was doing all by himself in weather like this. Inside, you sincerely hope that he didn’t run out in the street.

‘Oh God, what if he did?’

Out of sheer panic, you run towards the direction of the gate, praying to the heavens that he didn’t do the latter. With rain coming down this hard, you knew that driver’s wouldn’t be able to see as clearly as they usually do. And the thought of Suna running into the street in hopes of getting his comfort jelly chuupets at the convenience store down the road doesn’t make you feel better at all.

You run out the gate, looking towards the direction of the store, failing to catch Suna or any person resembling him standing in the vicinity of it. Trying to get nearer and get a closer look, the sound of a blaring horn fills your ears. Turning to the left, you see a car heading your way, swerving side to side in a skidding motion. The road was so slippery in this type of weather, but why couldn’t you move?

The car was getting closer and your feet felt like they were stuck on the ground.

‘Why can’t I move?’

“Y/N!” Your body jerks back to the side. The car swiftly passes the both of you, getting back onto its regular general direction before driving further down the road. You feel your heart beating profusely, your heaving chest moving up and down in hopes of slowing it. “Are you stupid?! What do you think you’re doing?!?”

Looking up to thank your saviour, Suna’s panicked face greets you causing you to go silent. Both at the same time, you feel relief and stress seeing his face. Mostly relief because you’ve finally found him after all the events that occured today.

“Answer me—“

“Idiot!” Pushing him back, Suna stands there stunned while you clench your fists by your sides. “What—What do you think you’re doing, getting into fights, running out in the rain…are you a child?!? What is going on with you??”

Suna stands there silently.

“And don’t just stand there, I ran out in the road because, because I thought you went to buy your stupid chuupets that you love so much down at the convenience store! You are like a child, wanting fucking food when you’re angry or stressed. You know, I shouldn’t have come out here. In the rain, getting all wet. But you know what Suna, you know what’s pathetic? This, running in shitty weather like this, wouldn’t only be the most drastic thing I do for you.

Suna, for months, I-I’ve been buying expensive ass electrolyte packets, because I know you wouldn’t drink regular water. You only drink water that tastes like fruit juice. That’s from my own money by the way! I also cook you food, that I spend time out of my nights, and sometimes mornings, because you are picky! I know you don’t like cafeteria food, so I just threw my food into the circle, hoping to God that you just might like it! And-And let’s not forget about my towel, my hand sewn, hand washed, machine dried towel. I bring it for you fresh everyday Suna! I know you don’t like the rough school towels, so I brought mine with my initials!

And do I get noticed? No! I never got a ‘thank you’, or even a nod of recognition?! I have Atsumu or Osamu return my bento box in silence, even my towel, thrown into the pile with the rest of the team’s towels, and I get called annoying. I slave myself every day, Suna, just to get your attention. But I don’t think you realise that, I don’t have to do these things. I have never, ever, forced myself to do these things.

I am sorry, if I smother you Suna. I just love you so fucking much that I don’t realise the things I do to care for you, are exhausting.

But now, I’m exhausted. Of not receiving the gratitude I expect for the things I do. I was fine for awhile Suna, but now I’m—“

Then, you feel yourself being pushed onto his chest. One of Suna’s arms wrap around your waist, while the other holds your head down gently, as if silencing you from saying the rest of what you wanted to say. You feel shock course through your veins as the last thing you expected was a hug from the Suna Rintarou.

You and Suna stood under the harsh rain, their heartbeats echoing the drumming of waterdrops around them. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that intimate moment.

“Don’t get tired Y/N, please don’t get tired of me.” Out of nowhere, you feel yourself begin to cry. Wiping your tears onto Suna’s already wet jersey, he manages to sense your exhaustion, urging him to glide his hand on top of your head continuously. “I am grateful Y/N, that you do all these things for me without me having to ask.”

Suna pulls the both of you apart, cradling your face as he attempts to wipe your tears off. Despite his efforts however, you continue to cry, meanwhile struggling to breathe as you attempt to catch your breath. It feels like despite all the tears you’ve cried in private, seeing Suna recognise you brought a whole different wave of emotions.

“Don’t cry, I don’t want to see you crying because of me.” At that moment, Suna ponders for a bit as you see him look at you. You feel yourself freeze as he leans down to plant two kisses on both of your cheeks, an effort to dry your tears. Putting his forehead on yours, his thumbs continuously brush your jawline, as if he was admiring you. “It’s difficult for me to say Y/N, but I love you.”

Your eyes widen.

“I’ve loved you since elementary when you pushed that little boy off the swing after he pushed me off. I’ve loved you since middle school when you would sneakily put chuupets on my desk, even if you thought I didn’t know. You’re beautiful Y/N. And, I’m sorry for not thanking you earlier for everything you’ve done for me. I’m not brave like you, I can’t show the people I love that I care for them.”

“B-But the bento…”

“Of course I ate it. It hurts me to think that I didn’t, I just always asked Atsumu or Osamu to bring it back. You make me nervous Y/N. I can’t confidently walk up to you when you get prettier every time my eyes turn to you.

You make me weak, Y/N.” You huff, sniffling as Suna lands another kiss on the tip of your nose. He smiles and brings you in for another hug, but this time, your arms wrap around him tightly.

It is difficult to love Suna Rintarou.

It was a path fraught with uncertainties and moments of doubt. But as you stood there, holding the rain-soaked figure before you, you knew that the journey was worth it. Because in the depths of his guarded heart, you had found a love that was as powerful as it was fragile, as beautiful as it was challenging. And you were determined to weather the storm, to be the unwavering presence that helped him navigate the complexities of love and vulnerability.

[anantaru]

cw. none, calling him a petname for the first time, gn! reader

a/n. this was actually so much fun to write that i already plan to post headcanons with the same trope <3 enjoy!

"this dinner is important, okay?" you, in a determined muse, sing over to alhaitham. you knew he would attempt to wiggle himself out of this serious situation yet ventured to carefully twist your voice into his mind, until it's walking over the tunes expelling from his earphones.

you move on, "plus— it's not just 'any' dinner, don't call it that!" while, in all your pearly brilliancy, glance over to your boyfriend from under lowered brows, your amused expression being crocheted in a pettish course of action.

"so don‘t be late, —okay?"

under different circumstances, the thought of practically ordering your boyfriend around for something such as this would never even cross the simplest thought of yours, yet the mentioned dinner in particular was one held of graven significance for a future endeavor— to say it was to be taken serious was an understatement.

"understood, there's no need to repeat yourself." alhaitham notes, wilting a little in the glaring confidence of your words.

irregardless of his choice in mannerism and tone— it being as dry as the large deserts in sumeru and parched, if you didn't know any better it audibly sounded as if alhaitham was actually rolling his eyes at you.

it's not like he wasn't your biggest supporter, because in reality, he was. there hadn't been an instance in your life where your boyfriend wasn't the most important pillar of assistance and aided to navigate you through a severe spell or serious time.

yet, if you consider paddling back to actually give yourself a moment to observe his sweet frame of mind, the perception of inscribed responsibility was purling into alhaitham‘s bones and tensing muscles a little too quick, jolting through his limbs— because, he downright abominates working overtime, or perhaps it was something different this time.

was the oh so renowned and fetching acting grand sage of the nation of wisdom, a victim of the so called, 'nervousness' scholars were chatting about? might be, or maybe, only maybe, he was simply not looking forward to doing something grating instead of spending a nice evening in his safe home together with you.

but he makes you smile, there was a spark of interest in his eyes before;

"thank you my love."

uhm— okay wait. hold on. just this second.

given that it was the evening approaching and alhaitham had been working all day, he, at the outset, had not seriously noted the last two words of your sentence, well, not before you inched closer to where he was resting at— the large green couch in his living room more inviting than prior to this winsome situation.

"you're the cutest and sweetest and bestest my love." you do not move any closer, instead, you shyly tangle your legs over his own before half way smushed in his lap.

on a dime, alhaitham curses the inability of himself to control his body when he was around you. how does one possibly respond to this?

a nickname, he never had been called something of that sorts by anyone, not in a positive regard— except the usual mean spirited ones from his roommate. but the scribe never viewed them as something that had to be used or maybe he never thought about it more upfront.

"my? love?" he slants his head to the side to look at you, a heave following from his chest at your proclamation, "yes, my love." you smile back, undoubtedly catching a sheer fade of redness planted on his scorching cheeks, in addition, there was a heaviness in his arms, but a warm feeling in his heart.

"that's a new one." alhaitham mutters and notes it in his memories.

"most of the times i'm being called a jerk." it's true, he was, however luckily you weren't just anyone. you angle your body closer to be comfortably seated on his lap now, before bending your head forward to settle an airy kiss on his cheeks. "you're not a jerk to me though."

alhaitham didn't respond, the thought of prolonging this conversation was as tiresome as the dinner you had planned out for later. nevertheless, what he did do was smile, distantly, scarcely perceivable.

but you caught it, how he noted it yet again and on how priceless and wonderful you were to him.

2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[betasquads]

JEALOUSY, Niko Omilana

———————————

—————————————

Summary: In which your boyfriend Niko Omilana gets visibly upset and jealous at how close you we're being with your work partner, Sharky.

Warnings: does kissing count as a warning?

A/N: lmk if you guys want a part two !

also this isn't checked so excuse me if there's any common mistakes, it was rushed.

You met your boyfriend Niko through Sharky, and you couldn't be more grateful. You had immediately hit it off even though the vibe between you two wasn't the best in the beginning.

No one had thought that you, a complete different aesthetic would hit it off with someone like Niko.

Even Sharky himself could feel his blood boil everytime at the mention of you two together since he was confident that when he introduced you to the beta squad was that no one would come close to you.

It's not like you were a terrible person or anything like that. You were just your own person. A really known person who would show up on youtube to give up your own mindset about dating and how miserable it makes you. You weren't just babbling words for fame or attention, you went through a relationship that made you hate the idea of dating or falling in love.

You always promised to yourself to never date infront of millions of watchers, but of course, it was immediately changed once you had met Niko. He was a fearless individual with a strong personality and that was what drew you in.

You kept your relationship private, until Niko sneaked a kiss on your lips not knowing that there was paparazzi lingering around.

You simply didn't care and never really replied to what the media said, until it started becoming really annoying.

Of course, the internet wouldn't leave you alone, what'd you expect? So the only message that you gave to the world was simply, 'I was wrong about all the things I've said, because not every man that you meet is like the rest.'

But Sharky always felt deeply hurt after it was announced that you and Niko were officially together. It wasn't even Niko's fault, Sharky always kept these feelings locked away for the sake of your happiness with your passion of telling the world about your point of view and experience with falling in love.

If he knew that he couldn't have you now, he'll wait. Even if it was for years. Plus that didn't really stop him from flirting or observing from afar.

Niko would catch the way he looks at you, but of course you being oblivious, all you did was laugh whenever Sharky treated you extra special. You always thought it was because you've been friends way before fame hit for both of you, but you were completely wrong.

Niko would always be furious, but since he really didn't have proof for everything, he decides to keep his mouth shut.

"Today on beta squad, we're doing our very own edition of would i lie to you." Right after Chunkz makes the announcement, everyone including you start cheering in excitement.

Niko snakes an arm around your waist as he laughs in excitement and you turn to look up at him with butterflies swarming in your stomach. No matter how long the relationship you two have been together, you always felt this fuzzy feeling that always hit you and made you dizzy, the same exact warmth she had when she first met Niko.

They had thought it'd be a great idea to invite you for a video, just like how it is all the time. So you easily accepted, being really happy to be around them, especially Niko.

"On team one, on my right hand side, we have Nikolas Omilana, y/n y/l/n, and Sharky!" Niko was a little annoyed that out of all the people sharky had to be on their team, but irregardless, he was going to make sure that Sharky doesn't get too close.

"On my left hand side, we got Yung Filly, Aj shabeel, and King kenny!"

"They're all terrible liars, especially the gyall right there." Filly points at you and you just shrug, knowing that you had a tactic to work with.

"Let's start with this team first." Chunkz points at your team and Sharky was the first to start.

"You can do this." You whisper to Sharky and Niko obviously looking at you, felt his jaw tense.

He couldn't careless if this was Aj, Chunkz, Kenny, or even Filly, because he could clearly tell who liked you in a friendly way and he definitely knew Sharky liked you more than a friend.

"I got circumcised by a random Somali man." Sharky says and immediately everyone started to laugh, including you.

"Yeah, my mom knew at the age of 9." He nods with a straight face.

"So your mom let a random man touch your dick?" Niko who was supposed to be on your team, says to Sharky.

"Ay that's cheating! He's making it obvious that it is a lie." Aj points at Niko.

You nudge Niko playfully with your elbow and give him a look like you were telling him to behave and he just sends you a wholesome grin.

"Just a quick question. Any mandem over here seen his sausage? Or maybe the gyall over the–" Filly questions with a genuine hope that someone did see it, but Kenny immediately slaps the back of his neck to shut him up.

Niko's stomach turned at the statement even though it was clearly a joke, but it made him physically sick. He looks over to you, worried that it made you uncomfortable.

You on the other hand laugh it off for the sake of the video since you knew that's the humor that you had to take whenever you were filming with them, otherwise you being uncomfortable would've been seen as too dramatic among the fans. So, you just send a nod and a smile to Niko.

Chunkz agrees at Filly's question of him being circumcised and everyone let's out 'woo's' and 'ooh's' and he clarifies that it needs to be done because his religion said so for purification.

—

After a while the other team come into conclusion that it was false. Sharky shakes his in disapproval and shows them the side where it says true, and they all sigh and even let out yells of disapproval.

You on the other hand, wrap your arms around Sharky's shoulders as you both jumped into union and excitement.

Despite the grin on Niko's face, he was pissed. Seeing your cheeks a little flushed and your smile reaching your ears made him question himself. Do you laugh like this with him? Does he make you feel that happy?

All the thoughts swarm in his head and his stomach drops every second at the thoughts coming and he tries to push them off by focusing on it being Filly's turn.

—

It was currently the last round and both teams were tied. Your team decided to pick you for it since you knew how to get the other team confused. The other team picked Filly since he was the guest. If both teams tie again, you were going to keep going until one team wins.

You sigh deeply and grab your card, "I was expelled in 11th grade because my history teacher accused me of hitting her." You say with a straight face, but once you've seen Filly's face who was currently trying to hold in his laugh, you bite your lip to stiffen in your laughter.

"She's lying innit because she's laughing over there." Filly tells his teammates.

"I'm sorry, im sorry– but I can surely tell you that i am telling you the truth." You genuinely say but Aj was shaking his head as he was narrowing his eyes at you.

Kenny squints his eyes at you, "Tell us the story of what happened."

"So basically, I used to speak a lot during sessions and no matter how many times she's told me to shut up, yeah? I never did shut up and uh," You pause for second, trying to remember what had happened.

"She paused, she's thinking about how to fake the story." Kenny says and everyone yells as if they've caught the fact that you were 'faking' it.

"Ay, leave her alone. Let her continue." Sharky responds to them. Niko sends an annoyed look at Sharky, not caring if the camera caught it.

"Anyway, she was really mean for no reason and only had one way to expel me, and that is to lie. And let me just tell you something, yeah? She had to cry infront of the school administration to convince them that I did hit her. There's not much to say since the statement is direct and has no other explanation, but she hated the entire class and especially me." You explain and the opposed team starts laughing.

"Ay, she's good at waffling, but definitely a terrible liar." Aj speaks to the camera.

Niko began laughing at how your face was flushed in embarrassment, "Cold, cold. How do you feel being laughed at, baby?" He whispers in your ears but makes sure that everyone hears and rests his hand on your hips and makes sure his eyes meets Sharky who was already looking at him. You bite your bottom lip at how he presses his front against your back, forgetting for a moment that the camera was on.

"Take your hands off of her, Omilana. Not infront of the pizza shaped kid right across of you and the possibility of thousands of kids watching you." The host, Chunkz, warns Niko and he raises his hands up in surrender but sends you a glance that was far from innocent, and he tries to make sure that Sharky was looking at the entire interaction.

"Is that it?" Aj questions and you just simply nod.

"Bruva I can't lie, I have a deep feeling that she's told all of us this story before." Kenny says and you try not to wince, because you did indeed tell them before when you all hung out.

You just keep your straight face on at his statement, but inside, you could feel yourself screaming. You always took these challenges seriously.

"I'm not convinced that such teacher would do that." Filly shakes his head and you notice Aj nodding at his words. You internally beg that they would make it a lie.

They whisper to each other until Kenny grabs the stick that had lie and true, "We all think it's a lie." they come into conclusion and you could feel yourself grin.

"Alright, y/n, go ahead and reveal your answer." Chunkz announces loudly.

"It is..."

You show the side of the one that says 'true', "The truth!" You began laughing at their reaction, too lost to even notice the way Niko was looking at you.

He admired the way you were grinning from ear to ear and the way your cheeks were flushed and two strands of your hair on each side were laying on your face. What made him furious is the fact that Sharky was doing the exact same thing, admiring and taking in each feature of your face.

You pull both Niko and Sharky into a side hug as you jumped in excitement, "We could win this!" You say in joy.

"That's impossible! How could a teacher do that? Can't she get fired for that?" Aj yells, surprised.

"Maybe because she lied and she's the teacher which they would believe over the student, idiot." Kenny replies with a bland tone which erupted everyone's laugh.

"That is mad." Filly shakes his head.

You nod at Filly, "Go on."

"I once got locked in a car for two days." He states and you immediately grip Sharky's arm to contain your laughter since he was closer to you.

Niko just stares angrily at how touchy you were being this entire video. Hugging Sharky whenever you got something right or he did, constantly gripping his arms each time you wanted to laugh.

"That's impossible, ain't it?" You question.

"Just tell them the story, Filly." Chunkz says teasingly, clearly enjoying this.

"So uhm– so uh yeah. So–" He stutters.

"We caught him, we caught him!" Sharky says so loud that you laugh and shake your head.

"Let him speak you schmuck." Niko says a little aggressive, but no one picks up on it except for Sharky.

"I was around 7 and we had just got back from my first day of school and my mom took her groceries up to our house and left me in the car."

You couldn't take it seriously as you began laughing, "So you were in the car for two days? And she didn't drive you to school the next day?" You question, and everyone on your team and Chunkz let's out an 'ooooh' since you've picked up on something.

"We already know our choice. It's a lie." Sharky holds up the stick and Filly sighs.

"I'm sorry I did you both wrong, but yes, it is a lie." He says to both Kenny and Aj, disappointed.

Immediately on your left hand you felt someone pick you up for the victory, Sharky. He spinned you even though you feel a little uncomfortable about it, but you shrug it off.

Once he puts you down you turn to Niko and throw your arms around his neck and plant kisses all across his neck where camera can't see you doing this gesture. For some reason you could sense something off since you didn't feel the energy being returned. You just guessed that he was probably a little exhausted or tired.

"This confirms that this team had just won, congratulations to team one!" The host announces and the other team attacks each other and started blaming the other on why they lost.

"There's one important message that Filly and y/n have to say." Chunkz says a bit too serious.

You walk next to Filly and in union, you both say, "Play the trailer." The rest cheer and the camera was now off, everyone leaving to do their thing.

You run to Niko since his presence was the only thing that mattered to you. You see the way he was on his phone, not acknowledging your presence like he always does whenever you filmed with them.

You didn't think much of it and you wrap one of your hands around his neck, tiptoe–ing since he was tall. He always goes down a little for you, but for some weird reason, he doesn't.

You still reach to him after you struggle and your mouth finds his and you hear him let out a sharp sigh and his phone shutting off once your lips meets his. He places his phone inside his pocket and one hand wraps the front of you neck and the other grips your hip to deepen the kiss.

He kisses you like he's been longing to do so, but as if something comes into his senses, he takes his lips off of you and wipes his lips.

You're very confused by the action, but you immediately felt like there was somewhere to be, "I'll go to the lavatory and meet you outside." He just let's out a hum as his eyes were deeply focused on something in his phone.

You just chose to ignore it, not having anytime to start this since you both had somewhere special to be tonight. You and Niko don't live in the same apartment since you live with your best friend and so does he, so you barely find time to spend time together. You both had an idea of going out for dinner and just spending quality time for fun.

Before you took another step you see Sharky in the corner of your eye, coming to talk to you. Not wanting to be rude, you stood and waited until he made his way to you.

"Great game, they fans are going to love you even more for this." He smiles at you and you chuckle, flattered at this compliment.

"I'm so glad I had a chance to spend time with all of you." You send an appreciative friendly smile, but in Niko's eyes who was watching the entire interaction, was now sure it was far from friendly.

After that he definitely knew that he wasn't overlooking this. He had a huge feeling that you felt the same towards Sharky, and that just made him upset and furious.

So he gets up and walks up to the rest except Sharky to say his goodbyes and he leaves you all alone.

—

You hum to a song that came in your mind as you wash your hands thoroughly, drying them with tissues you had in your bag.

You get out with the widest smile, just for it to disappear when you see that Niko wasn't in the place where he was seated in the last time.

Confused, you walk to the rest of the boys who were all talking together about a conversation you weren't interested in, "Have you guys seen where Niko is?"

"Oh y/n you're still here? And what what do you mean by where Niko is? We thought you left with him?" Chunkz says, genuinely confused and even a little worried.

You furrow your eyebrows, "What? Left with him? No– I was in the lavatory for 10 minutes and now he's gone."

"This pussio just lied to us." Aj remarks jokingly, but there was a bit of a tone that indicated he was pissed that his best friend would do that.

"If this is a prank then seriously I have no time for this." You say with a bland tone and a fake smile, crossing your arms.

"Wallahi he left. He told us you were waiting in the car and that he had to leave." Chunkz was now completely confused on why Niko would abandon you, his girlfriend. Your fake smile immediately dropped.

You raise your eyebrows, surprised that Niko would even think of doing that. "Are you serious right now?" You said it more like a statement instead of a question since you knew that Chunkz was indeed telling the truth. Everyone's eyes are wide at the fact that Niko had just left you like that. You were also shocked.

You slightly scoff at how disrespected you just felt at the moment. You even felt embarrassed since you had no idea how you were going to get to your apartment or even get to him.

"I could drive you home if you'd like?" You hear Sharky offer.

"No I don't wanna tire you. Aj you live with him right? Can you drive me there or are you staying here for a while?" Your voice wavers as you speak, but you tried to keep a stern face.

Aj looks at you concerned and so does the rest, "That's so low, even for Niko." Filly remarks and unexpectedly he gets up and hugs you, almost squeezing you almost to death.

You hear the rest laugh at how soft Filly was, "Ay you crushing the poor gyall!" Chunkz remarks but that doesn't stop him from joining in the hug aswell.

"Jokes aside though, you good y/n?" Kenny asks with a genuine hope that you were truly fine.

You nod and chuckle, "Mhm, I'm fine. I can assure you that I'm completely fine." But deep down, you knew you weren't.

"I'm sorry y/n, I would love to do anything for you but i have to finish something up. If that's okay, you could stay for a little and I could drive you?" Aj asks with a little suggestive tone and everyone was practically begging you to stay with how they looked at you.

"As much as I don't wanna miss out on the opportunity to spend more time with you guys, I really want answers from Niko–"

"So does that mean I could drive you?" Sharky immediately speaks and you roll your eyes and nod with a chuckle.

"Alright let's go."

—

Sharky offered to stay at his car and wait for you and you say that it was alright if you could get a cab as a way to your apartment but he kept on insisting and you couldn't say no.

Now you could feel the anger rising as you walked to his apartment, entering the apartment with your spare key, angry with how Niko had just left you there. How did he even dare to do such thing?

When you storm towards the living room, you see Niko laid out on the couch, doing some work on his laptop.

"Seriously? You left me there? Did you forget about me?" You speak so loud you were sure that the neighbors might've heard, but you couldn't careless. You just wanted an apology in any sort of way.

He lazily shrugs and keeps his eye on the screen, and you could pinpoint the anger from the way he clenched his jaw at your voice.

You could feel your heart shatter at his action because he's never been like this. "Niko what–" You take a pause since you could feel the tears almost appearing from the way your voice cracked, and you most definitely didn't want to let him see you cry.

Once he's heard the voice crack, he immediately looks up with a hint of worry in his eyes, but it quickly disappears once he's seen that you weren't crying, immediately looking back down.

"What is this? What are you doing? Why are you acting like this? " The last sentence clearly sounded desperate.

When you didn't receive an answer, you shut the laptop aggressively and take it from him, setting it aside.

"I want to have a real conversation. Not a one sided one." You say, silently pleading for him to look at you or say anything. But he doesn't even acknowledge you, he just looks at the floor with a clenched jaw.

"Niko, you're hurting me. Where is all of this coming from? Look at me or just say anything, please." You could feel your heart beating rapidly at his silence treatment, not wanting this relationship to go any wrong. Words spilled out from your mouth like it was nothing, it was as if your heart longed for any response and therefore it formed the words automatically.

He scoffs disrespectfully at you, despite the way his heart hurt at the mention of you telling him that he was hurting you, "Sharky."

"What? Sharky? What about him?" You immediately respond, clinging on to whatever words he was going to say.

Truth to be told, you couldn't bare the thought of him leaving you. You were attached and in love with him to say the least.

"I really don't get how you can't see how he's basically flirting with you 24/7. I'm tired of it, and im extremely tired of you acting like you can't see it either. My girlfriend's surely not an idiot, is she?" His last sentence seemed a bit harsh, by the way he winced and cringed at his own words.

His eyes finally met yours and you could pinpoint the change in them. There was no warmth in them or the love he had for you like he always had whenever he looked at you, and you could confirm that you could feel the anxiety and fear kicking in.

"No, no, no. Sharky– Sharky will always be my friend. He does not like me and I assure you that I don't like him either." You say with your voice wavering and you shake your head as speak.

You grab Niko's hand, desperately trying to send him the message. What made it even worse, is the cold look he sent you. It seemed as if he was bored of this conversation and that he didn't want to even speak or continue.

He chuckles coldly at you, "You look really pathetic trying to convince me that theres nothing seriously going on between you and Sharky."

Your eyebrows furrow deeply and your mouth is slightly open at his words that stung you, "Because there's isn't anything going on." You say aggressively, feeling like you were talking to a crackhead who couldn't get his thoughts straight.

He rolls his eyes and slightly chuckles in a mocking manner, "Never knew that my own girlfriend is pathetic at thinking I wouldn't catch on."

Your mouth is open slightly at his harsh words that just kept coming more and more," What are you saying? I would never do such thing. Niko please–" He takes his hands off of yours and gets up from where he was seated.

He seems to be going to his bedroom, but before you could even go in to try and convince him, bam. The door was shut right infront of your face.

You were a taken aback by this, confusion and mostly hurt that he'd think of you doing something like that. You could feel your cheeks becoming stung by tears, looking around the shared apartment.

"Niko, I swear to God if you don't come out and apologize. We're over." Your voice was louder than you had thought, dead silence at the other side of the door. You let out a frustrated cry at his stubbornness when he doesn't get out.

Now tears fell like they've been held in for too long and You knew Aj was probably on his way so it was probably better if you just left, even though each step you took towards the door completely hurt you.

The plans you had for tonight with him was spending time with him just dining out and continuing the rest of the night in his room for since you both had been busy for weeks.

But now the only thing you were looking forward was how you were going to move on after this. Was it just confirmed that the both of you were done for?

You didn't understand what he was trying to do, it was as if he was trying to find an excuse to just leave you heartbroken and miserable.

You open the door a little too quick, while you walk faster by each second that passed by.

It was getting hard to breath. Your cries were heard through the halls, your brain telling you to suck it in. Your crying was getting loud as you felt a panic attack was close, you didn't feel good at all.

Your hand made its way to your mouth to stop yourself from crying even louder, the other pushing the elevator button.

Come run after me, Niko. Please come I really need you. You silently beg inside your head. You wait for the elevator, tears still finding its way out.

But you knew he wasn't going to come, it was his plan all along to push you away, at least that's what you had thought. You just needed to leave, you felt like the walls were starting to close on you.

And now the world was going to see you as the pathetic, stupid, 'y/n y/l/n who thought she could ever have a healthy relationship.'

—————————————

[rosedom]

hand placements r so 😩😩 thinking about teasing ur pretty boy with hand placements until he can't take it anymore

- 🥯

YES !! oh my god ,, ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠) hands r so mmmmmmmmm

cr. if having a hand kink is illegal, then i've got a life sentence !!

startin' at a pretty boy's own hands, yours curling over his and interlocking between his fingers . . . the rings on each of your heart-fingers bumping against each other. slipping right out of his grasp, though, taking a secure hold of each wrist and bringing them both up n' above his head, one hand keeping him snug where you want him.

then just—taking the hand you've now got free, dragging it painstakingly slow down the slope of his one forearm and then the next, switching between each as you go down, down, down in fleeting, teasing caresses. sayin', askin', "keep still for me, won't'cha?" and of course your pretty boy will—he'll keep those hands of him right there, right where you left 'em, right where you told him to keep.

"good boy, listening so well to instructions. you deserve somethin' a lil' more, yeah?" but you won't even let him reply, let him nod his head frantically, because you'll be dropping your hands to either side of his torso and squeezing, and his head'll droop to the side before he can even lift it up n' down to say yes, please, daddy.

this'll get awkward rq here if you don't have a daddy kink, but listen—your big hands, dipping to his plush thighs and spanning the damn-near width of them. a muscled up pretty boy—wrio, diluc, cyno—, or maybe just a pretty boy with thighs all soft n' pillowy—lyney, baizhu, zhongli. hell, even a pretty boy with a tantalizing mix of both muscle and soft fat—ae, ga-ming, heizou—, any guy with any type of pretty, pretty thighs would simply look ravishing against the span of your palms.

irregardless, he's gonna wanna have your hands at the apex: not the sides, not the tops. pushin' his hips up, but the motion'll only send your hands to cradle his knees, his calves, his ankles all the same. you're gonna hafta tell him, all soft n' soothing, "patience, sweet thing."

except with that, you'll be bringing your hands right where he wants 'em after all your teasing. he'll be so absolutely beautiful, here, at your mercy: legs spread for you, his own hands still crossed above his head and sittin' perfectly where you left them.

you have such a strong, strong mind >< and with your pretty boy at your mercy, your hands so perfect across his skin . . . bagel anon ily for this !!

19 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-three: toys

>>> i’ll probably get little to no interaction on my lady pieces but fuck y’all i love them and nobara could DOMINATE ME

>>> starring: kugisaki nobara x curvy!f!reader >>>cw: sleepover conversion moment because i’m nasty, dom!nobara, fingering, nipple play, toy usage, strap, butt plug, vibrator, nipple clamps, overstimulation. >>> wc: 3.4k >>> event masterlist

your monthly sleepover with nobara was a sacred ritual of friendship, one that started due to your borderline bizarre attachedness to each other since the moment you met in high school. of course back then, you two were inseparable—and sleepovers were more of a nightly occurrence than a monthly one. oh but how time changes things. you both stay so busy these days that it’s a miracle you get her to yourself even one weeknd out of the month.

you prep for the occasion like it’s a dick appointment—not that you’ve had one of those in quite some time, nor do you miss them. kugisaki’s attention was enough for you, your best friend knew how to make you feel loved and appreciated far better than any man could at this point anyway. regardless of how often you saw each other, she was always in your phone. she made sure you woke up to good morning messages and wished you the sweetest of dreams every night. sure, they were a little flirty in nature, but that’s just how girls are. all the times she’s jokingly asked for nudes or made sexual innuendos are just her ways of making you feel beautiful and wanted. she didn’t mean a thing, you were sure of it.

but irregardless, you wax your legs and schedule your lash appointments around your visits to nobara. it’s no different this time as you scramble around your apartment to find the perfect set of pajamas to wear over. you decide on a red silky set, hoping that it complimented your freshly cleaned skin. it does more than that, the strappy crop top basically sticks to your chest, v-cut and plunging to give a great peek at your tits. the shorts are just as slutty, like a second layer of skin to highlight the mounds of your ass, the fabric occasionally rode up your thighs to nestle into your fat pussy.

all of this was painfully clear to kugisaki once you arrived. you had to be doing this on purpose, and she was getting sick of it. how many hints does a girl have to drop? she’s been flirting with you mercilessly for years, and tonight may be the night she breaks—you seem to be making sure of it. nobara all but pulls you into her house before the neighbors start lining the streets to gawk at you.

“hey girl!!” you smile warmly at her, setting your overnight bag on the couch. she’s practically scowling when she meets your eyes, though that chipper happiness in them makes it hard for her to be mad at you.

“hey hottie, missed you.” she greets, throwing her arms around you to cover up any aggravation you may have noticed. you of course melt into her without any protests, enjoying her floral scent and the feeling of her hair brushing up against your cheek. she’s focused on the feeling of your loose tits smashing up against hers, and she swears your nipples harden.

“ugh, missed you!” you sigh out once she starts rubbing her warm hands over the exposed skin on your back, pouting when she pulls away. she doesn’t give you time to be sad long, letting her hand fall down your arm to grab your hand, smiling softly as she leads you to the couch. love island is already queued on the tv, and kugisaki is ever so thoughtful—snacks and drinks wait for you on the table. “i think we should have these sleepovers every other week instead—this is getting unbearable!”

she laughs her agreement and lets the show play in the background, sighing that she only gets to see you once a month. “i wishhhh. when are you gonna quit your job and let me support us both?”

you roll your eyes, though the idea of dropping everything and staying here is hardly a bad one. “tch, whenever you’re serious about the offer.” you lean up and snatch a bag of chips, feeling her eyes track you the whole way.

“i’m never not serious! do you even know me?” she huffs, unashamedly checking out your rack. “i may tell a joke babe, but i never tell a lie.” she swears, hand over her heart. you can feel heat creep up your neck from the way she looks at you, and you have to consciously think about watching the show instead of her smirking lips. you’d be lying if you said you’d never considered going gay for your best friend—a proud and out lesbian—but you always felt bad for assuming she was into you. just because she was gay doesn’t mean she likes all girls—and based on her previous girlfriends, you certainly weren’t her type.

but the idea comes to the forefront of your mind at the worst time possible. you think about what it might be like to kiss her—just an innocent kiss. she was always biting at her pouty bottom lip, and they were so pink and cute that it had to feel nice. the dating show fades into the background as nobara pulls you into her chest. she basically moves you into her lap, and the movement isn’t necessarily foreign, but in this moment—you wish you could be anywhere else. your face lands on her chest, and your cheeks burn. you’re nervous she can read your thoughts—the ones that take a turn for the filthy once she parts her legs so that you can lay more comfortably and her fingers find your hair to massage your scalp. it would be so easy to push the fabric of her shirt up and attach your lips to one of them. you can’t help but imagine how that would feel, they soft pillows under your head only entice you further, her ministrations against your scalp make your pussy flutter, and your cheeks burn.

you know she’s experienced. she’s told you stories about some of her encounters, and just like now you worked extra hard to ignore the bubbling warmth in your stomach. you know your best friend loves eating pussy, loves fingering, loves using her extensive collection of nipple clamps and vibrators and straps on her victims—and right now you craved to be one of them. thinking about those pouty lips puckered around your pussy had you squirming, reaching for the couch pillow to hold between your legs with a prayer that it would relieve the ache.

kugisaki isn’t stupid. she can feel your hips moving and circling in her lap, the light sheen of sweat coating your neck and your shoulder blades and as far as the eye could see. she’s grinning devilishly as you grab the pillow and put it where she knows you need her. she shifts a little under you, wrapping one arm around your back to sit her fingers to tapping at your hip bone, the other resting under your tits like a shelf. you only squirm against the pillow quicker, with less precaution. your shame quickly decreases as your need skyrockets, her thumb swiping the underside of your boob. you chew on your bottom lip, adjusting to lay on your back. it moves her stubborn hand closer to your cunt while shifting your breast into her other palm—your needy body moving faster than your brain.

you moan softly as she squeezes the soft mound, her giggle reminding you that this was no fantasy you’ve conjured to get off on her couch pillow; no, you really moaned aloud during love island—and now she’s laughing at you.

“kugi—“ you move to sit up, you have to explain yourself. but what would you say? the truth was just as embarrassing as your pathetic moan. she squeezes your tit again, her other hand moving to cup your warm middle over your shorts.

“what is it, pretty girl?” she asks, her voice dripping with saccharine honey. any protests die in your throat as her fingers find your nipple, circling it through the silky material clinging to your chest. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting on you.” she borderline snarls, pinching your now pebbled bud.

your eyes widen at her words, a jolt of pleasurable pain shooting through you as she toys with your chest. “i…i’ve thought about you for a while now..i want to..” you struggle to find the right words as she peels your shirt up, soft fingers rolling your tender nipples between them in a mocking way.

“wanna let me show you a real good time?” she hums, all too aware of your experiences too. her poor little bestie hasn’t cum at another’s hands in years. “you’ll cum, maybe too much.” she laughs, chest rumbling beneath you.

you nod at her suggestion instantly, relieved she said it for you. she moves her other hand to join the one groping at you, massaging your tits as you laid with your back to her chest. she presses every button, tweaking your nipples so deliciously you think she may make you cum just from her expertise—no pussy touching needed. but she’s a generous partner, and she’s been crafting her own fantasies of making a lesbian out of you for far too long. that combination means your days without cumming are over, even if you’re already a whining mess in her lap just from her fingers on your tits.

“i got so many toys you’re just gonna love, pretty baby.” she hums, the recorded episode on the tv fading to black as it ends—mindless late night talk shows taking the place as the background soundtrack. she kisses the top of your head, biting her lip to repress her eager giggles. “there’s a box under my bed. go get it for me. and take that flimsy lil top off, girl.”

you nod, deep under her control with little effort. you get to your feet, noting how your legs feel like they may give out from under you as you walk through kugisaki’s spacious home. you reach for your shirt, dropping the fabric on her bed. you locate the box and gulp at the contents: nipple clamps, various dildos and straps, vibrators and whips—nobara really was a kinky bitch. she’s naked when you come back, giving you a proud smile for following orders. “good bunny. c’mere!!” she squeals, patting the couch.

you’re too busy gawking at her—lean with a soft figure, the ripples of her years spent training as a sorcerer lurking beneath. she tucked some of her cropped auburn hair back behind her ear, her glimmering brown eyes and intoxicating smile almost as addictive as her gorgeous tits and the perfect ass she perched on. you swallow thickly, bringing the box—and yourself—over to the couch. she takes it out of your hands and pilfers through the contents for a headband with bunny ears attached. she extends them out for you with a smile.

“oh yeah, put these bad boys on.” she grins with determination, swinging her legs beneath her to put the accessory on you. “so cute. have a bunny butt plug to match.” she sang as if this was a normal trip to starbucks, grabbing your hands. she tugs you to the couch, gnawing on her lip as she admires your voluptuous rack. “you really are so hot. i’m gonna rock your world, bitch.” she smirks, guiding you to lay against her like before.

you adjust the headband, feeling your cheeks burn. you want her to do just that, and you know she’s capable of it, so your pussy throbs with need as you recline against her body. you’re already breathing heavy from the feeling of her tits pressed to your back—your own nipples hardening almost painfully. she giggles at your excitement and nerves, though she has her fair share of her own. one of her slender hands tilts your jaw toward her face, and your nerves disappear. she still is your best friend after all, and you trust her. “do you like being my pretty bunny?” she asked, looking up at the pink ears perched atop your head.

you nod, “mhm. do you like it?” you ask, and she nods vigorously, twirling some of your hair around her fingers.

“love it. you look so good.” she hums, tracing over your lips with one elegant finger. you nod in soft satisfaction, parting your lips to speak, but nobara silences you with a soft kiss. she’s warm and soft—you like how she moves her hands down to play with your perky nipples again, moaning into the kiss for a deeper connection. it’s not long before you’re moving your hips again, humping your shorts for any kind of relief. she licks at your bottom lip, squeezing and rolling your buds as her tongue makes its way in your mouth and cool metal squeezes down on your sensitive nipples. you gasp, only letting her tongue in further, the weighty sensation of the clasps basically making your pussy a waterfall. you arch off of her and into her all at the same time, the kiss turns sloppier the needier you get, and finally her fingers trail down your abdomen and under the band of your shorts. her hips move against your ass—she’s just too excited to keep still herself, especially as her digits feel out the mess you’ve made of your pajamas.

“ohhh good bunny—someone’s excited.” she hummed, tapping your clit with her soaked fingers. your legs jump a little at the pleasurable sensation. she continues swiping at your clit, a proud smirk on her face at your little mewls. “gonna let me take care of you?”

you nod, humping her hand fervently. she knows just what pace to use, exactly how to press and slide her digits just where you need her. her other arm rests across your chest, if you bucked too wildly you’d wiggle yourself into a headlock. you can’t help but squirm though, feeling that rubber band pull taut in your gut. “gonna cum kugi, it feels so good.”

she rubs your clit faster, loving the way you arch and writhe and make your nipple clamps tighten so beautifully she’ll have you cumming all night. she pulls some hair away from your ear to whisper in your ear, “go ahead bunny. wanna see what my bestie looks like all fucked out.”

you clench down around nothing, feeling your gut burn and your legs shake.

“aghhh—oh my god~” you whine, panting a little as she works you down from your peak. even her slow circles have your gut jumping, and that’s before kugisaki drew her fingers to her lips and sucked your taste off of them. you bite your lip at the lewd action, turning in her lap to give back some of the pleasure she’s been giving you. it was part of your fantasy already, so why not latch your lip around her rosy nipple, sucking on it til it hardens on your tongue? especially when she makes such a lovely face, eyes closing and lips parting in angelic fashion. her moans are so sweet too, low toned and loud in volume. her fingers scrape at your scalp and she gives you a satisfied little grin.

“mm, your mouth is so warm, bunny.” she sighs happily, raking her fingers through your hair as you swap to her neglected mound. you moan softly at the feeling of her breast in your mouth combined with the feeling of her knee notching under your cunt—the wetness sliding all over her skin. you gasp softly, and she takes the opportunity to regain some control. she lifts you up to slide out from under you, you land lying flat on the couch. you hear the colliding of all the toys in her box, wondering which ones she would pick for you next. “can i use all your holes, bestie?”

you nod, spreading your legs even wider as she sits at the other end of the couch between them. she shows you what she wants to use, holding up what could only be the matching bunny butt plug she was referring to earlier, and a cute little clit sucking rose vibe. “course imma get ‘em ready for you. you’re gonna feel so good.”

she turns the vibrator on, giggling up at you as she puts it over your puffy and sensitive clit. your head falls back along the arm of the couch at the intense suction, you almost don’t feel her gather your cum and glide her fingers over your puckered asshole. she spits on it to add more lubrication, tentatively sliding her finger through the tight ring of muscles. your eyes grow three sizes at the pressure combined with the sucking of her toy. your moans are restless as she curls and moves her finger in your ass, adding a second one so that you could accommodate the cute fluffy pink bunny tail she bought with you in mind. you clench around her digits but she scissors your hole open, humming softly. “oh good. my bunny’s all stretched out.”

she spits on the tip of the toy to ease your discomfort, sliding the cute little plug in your ass with a proud smile. the rose toy keeps abusing your clit, and she dips her fingers into your cunt to curl against your spongy insides—finding your spot instantly. the stretch and burn of your hole combined with the attacks on your clit and kugisaki’s perfect fingers has you screaming and grabbing at her hair. you hurtle towards the end way quicker than last time, the burn of too much too quickly dizzying your brain. you can only call her name, vision going black as you cum all over her fingers yet again. you legs clench and shiver, your moans guttural and loud—you were thankful you weren’t at your apartment. you’re gripping the back of the couch with one hand, looking up at her in a daze. she’s drawn two orgasms out of you which is a borderline foreign feeling all on its own, but now she slides a black harness around her hips, attaching a thick and long dildo to its base.

“aw, want one more from you. gotta let me use my dick on ya!” she pouts, absolutely eating up your disheveled appearance. you nod, feeling the cool silicone tip of it gliding between your lips thanks to your messy cunt. “wanna hear you say it. say ‘fuck me please, kugisaki.’” she cooed, letting the tip of the pink dick nudge against your sensitive clit.

“oh fuck—yes, please. i want you to fuck me please, kugisaki. please, god this feels so good—so fuckin—“ you babble mindlessly, too far gone to think clearly. she shoves her cock in your tiny little hole to shut you up—that was her favorite part. you take a sharp breath as she leans over you, her cock burning through your gut like a hot knife. you clutch at the back of your legs so you can see her drive in and out of you, her tits jumping with her force. she’s taking you all in, the way you grip around her toy is so cute she may cum just from watching you—though she definitely plans on teaching you how to return the favor.

“my pretty bunny…like getting your holes stretched, cutie? is this all you dreamed of and more?” she grins, pushing in and out, silicone hitting your spot of need each and every thrust. you nod relentlessly, pawing at her hips. every roll knocks the plug a little deeper against your insides, and you know this orgasm will be different than the ones she already earned.

“yes! yes, kugisaki—gonna squirt—“ you whine, and she laughs manically, nodding and adding her fingers to your abused bundle.

“ooh that’s a girl, soak me then.” she giggles, making it a point to fuck you as roughly as possible. you wail out, tipping over the edge with such a violent burn in your gut that you know it’s too much. kugisaki nearly squeals with glee as you gush clear liquid all over her stomach and thighs, soaking her expensive couch. she rocks her hips into yours gently, milking out your high with shared heavy breaths.

you’re on a different planet, too dizzy and fucked out to feel anything but the mind-numbing pleasure still shocking through your veins. you hear the clinking of her strap hitting the ground, and you can tell she’s trying to clean you up, which makes you smile softly even in your half-conscious state.

she leans over to kiss your forehead, mumbling praises and compliments to your body.

“rest up bunny. gonna teach you how to eat pussy next.” she cooed, kissing your lips this time.

you give her a half grin, “mkay kugi. i wanna put these clamps on you though, bitch. i get toys too!” you giggle—and the sound makes her laugh with you as she puts the ignored episode of love island back on, patting your cunt.

“yeah? we’ll see what you got, little pervert.”

[widowbitessting]

how would the trio react if baby was really overwhelmed with school? like she’s really stressed and was hiding it well but eventually just brakes down in front of them?

it’s completely fine if you don’t want to answer this

Hope you all enjoy

Livvy

xoxo

I feel like they'd see you come home, all smile at you but when your body starts to tremble and your eyes glass over with tears, their smiles would stop.

Natasha would be straight off her chair and approach you quickly, engulfing you in a warm embrace as you fully breakdown with the stress of everything.

Your heart would be hammering in your chest, throat tight, constricted as you howl and burrow into her neck or shoulder.

They would just hold you.

Let you have this cry that has been building for however long and offer small words of reassurance into your ears as you grip onto whoever is hugging you then.

If it goes as far as a full blown panic attack, Wanda would be the one to step in and bring you out of it; using different methods until you're breathing normally and are able to stop shaking.

When you're able to vocalise back to them, Carol would then ask a simple question.

"Sofa or the bed?"

Irregardless of the option you tell them, they'd do the exact same care.

You'd be carried to your desired location - because a princess shouldn't walk - and placed down in the middle.

Wanda would go and make you your favourite caffeinated drink as a one off treat, just to see you smile.

Every time your eyes stare off, Natasha would gently pull you back to her and make sure you're still with them. They can't lose you to your thoughts again.

Carol would then wrap you up in a blanket and then they would ask you to tell them what's wrong.

And wait so patiently for you to do so.

Even if you open your mouth and all that comes out is a squeak or more tears.

The Trio! will wait.

You eventually tell them about school. About the stress of it all and how you're so overwhelmed you don't think you can do it anymore.

They'd let you rant, let you get it out of your system until they offer their support.

Wanda saying she'll even go as far to get you a sick note for a week so you can look after yourself mentally.

It's something you contemplate.

Between the four of you though, you come up with small plans to ease the load on your shoulders.

Like one of them dropping you off at classes and picking you up so you don't have to walk (if there are days where you'd prefer to walk, one of the Trio! would either offer to walk with you or give you space, whichever you need). So you can enjoy that 30-45 minutes extra in bed.

Ensuring you have a proper lunch with you in a lunchbox of your choosing so you can eat during your breaks, and not just rely on caffeine and sugary snacks.

Help you in anyway they can with assignments, homework, essays, revision etc.

Help you understand that you're not alone through all of this.

The Trio! are right there with you to support you.

Everything that gets put into place is 100% on your terms.

They never want to come across as controlling.

Ever.

So the new rules are mentioned, discussed and agreed on by the four of you.

It's something you want.

Not something you've been made to do.

Natasha even cancels travel plans to ensure you're happiness and safety first.

Who's going to fire her?

It could take days, weeks or even months, for you to finally come back to them; less stressed, happier and back to being their bratty submissive whom they adore and love.

But that wouldn't stop them.

They would be with you every step of the way.

On the good days.

On the bad.

Because they love you.

[atrueneutral]

Just read the last chapter of HWBASK (I somehow missed that chapter 😅) and... I've got to ask...

What does/did Raphael do when a current/potential client insults Tav?

What does/did Raphael do when a current/potential client tries to flirt or make a pass at Tav and/or tries to include some funny business involving her as part of their contract with the devil?

What does/did Raphael do when a current/potential client does both?

“Color me not surprised to see the Hero of Baldur’s Gate here,” said the brute of a man who had come to the Devil’s Den seeking a deal - as anyone always ever did.

Since arriving a minute ago, full of swagger, he was pegged by Tav to be ugly, arrogant, and unpleasant.

“Is it true, hero? You’ll fuck a devil to save a person’s soul? How many fiends have you spread your legs for?”

Ah, and what he had for brawn was there to compensate for his lack of brains.

But, to answer his question, she’d spread her legs for two fiends to be exact. One of which she fucked on a regular basis - irregardless of a soul hanging in the balance.

The very fiend (who looked quite handsome as a human) stood not too far away from where she sat pretending to read her new favorite romance novel. Being a lawful fellow (though still evil in many regards), Raphael cooly leaned against the writing desk with no outward reaction to the salacious attack against her reputation - outward being the key word. She snuck a glance from over her book and could tell he was visualizing a future where the man’s soul was nothing more than a tasty meal.

“Are you deaf, hero?” asked the man.

“Speak to me, not to her - you are here for a devil’s deal, are you not?”

The man snorted in her direction before turning his attention to Raphael.

“Alright, devil. Let’s talk.”

—

“Then we have an accord?” Raphael oozed warmth - his steps slow in taking him from the desk to the man. “You are to procure a Bag of Devouring and personally deliver it to me in this very room - in three weeks time. In return for completion of this task, I will see to the end of your rival and his gang. If you are unable to deliver the item I seek within the allotted time, then there is the unfortunate matter of a price to be paid.” 

“My soul, is that it?” asked the brute, smiling with yellowed teeth.

“Why, yes - your soul would be a fine price,” responded Raphael, smiling with devilish charm.

Anticipation burned in his eyes.

The brute was not so brainless to accept on the spot; he mulled it over for about half a minute, but it was clear he predicted a favorable outcome.

“Agreed - and I think I’ve heard of this schtick.” The brute regarded Tav. “You’re gonna travel with me, yeah, sweetheart? Help me out?”

Rather than read (for the fifth time) the paragraph in which the protagonist and antagonist expressed their hatred for one another before kissing, Tav pondered on ugly, arrogant, and unpleasant souls and what they tasted like to fiends.

Something flavorful, she supposed, for behind his mask of congeniality, Raphael was gnawing at the bit for a bite.

Snap!

An infernal pairing of contract and quill appeared in front of the brute’s face - conveniently obstructing his view of her.

“All that’s left to do is sign,” Raphael said evenly.

The brute snatched the quill from the air with his meaty hand, pointed tip and ink was put to parchment, and the words blazed after a quick scrawl of a signature. Little time was given to the man to read anything (as if his tiny brain could understand Infernal in the first place) for the signed contract quickly disappeared in a plume of smoke and embers.

“Best of luck to you,” Raphael purred, allowing a sneer to eek through.

“I’ve had worse odds before,” the brute replied with a cocky shrug. “But, speaking of luck, how about it, sweetheart? How about you give the devil a good fucking when I leave? A good fuck for good luck - all for my dear, sweet soul.”

“Infiltrating Zhentil Keep for a Bag of Devouring…” Tav whistled as she flipped to the next page. “I remember doing something eerily similar not too long ago. Whether or not you make it out as I did… well…”

She pulled a face that said: unlikely.

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

“I might be too busy fucking the devil - not for luck or for your soul, mind you.” For the first time, she met the brute’s stare - his arrogance was fraying into worry. “But because I enjoy it.”

“You’re obligated to do this with me!”

Tav laughed, “Says who or what? The rumors?”

“I put my soul on the line because of the guarantee!” The brute snarled, moving towards her in anger.

There was a flash and burst, and a large, pointed red wing fanned out to block the brute’s path. Tav was saddened that she could not witness the man’s reaction to seeing Raphael’s true form -  especially when her cambion looked so wonderfully antagonistic.

“A fool shall run a fool’s errand,” Raphael announced. “Run along, little fool.”

The brute snarled again in anger, and his bootsteps stormed for the door.

“Wait!” Tav shouted. The steps halted and Raphael refocused his glare on her. “If I were feeling up to a journey, when and where would I meet you? No guarantees, of course…”

An audible sound of relief.

“The bridge from the Lower City to Wyrm’s rock - dawn.”

After a moment, the door opened and then shut with a slam.

There was another flash and burst of fire as Raphael returned to his mortal disguise.

“Don’t look so peeved with me,” Tav scoffed. “I’m peeved with you! You know I hate Zhentil Keep…”

“You are under no obligation to go. It’s the fault of your own moral code - helping any and every mortal who steps into this den...”

“He’s not the first asshole and he won’t be the last.” Sighing, Tav closed her book and stuffed it into the pack that laid at her chair’s feet. “But, in all honesty, I won’t be too upset if you win this one either. The odds aren’t looking favorable - given your stipulation of three weeks.”

Raphael smirked. “A fair stipulation.”

“Says the devil,” came her droll reply. She stood while throwing her pack around her shoulder. “I think I’ll walk home tonight and will probably hit the hay as soon as I get back - early rise and all.”

“Mm, I’d join you on your stroll, but there are other matters I must attend to.”

Tav headed for the door. “Don’t take too long - I’ve unfortunately grown accustomed to you being in my bed.”

When she reached for the handle-

“Does it bother you?”

Raphael did not need to clarify his question; the remnants of his play, particularly the gossip that overran the city and followed the local hero wherever she went, had evolved into other less-than-savory rumors. Seeing the futility in denying the slander, Tav leaned into taking each blow on the chin and hoped that rumors of her good-deeds would one day overtake the bad.

“Some days more than others,” she answered truthfully.

Raphael blinked at her, something on his mind, but he merely nodded for the exit.

“Hurry home, dearest.”

“I will, under the fair stipulation that you hurry with your business - it’s cold out and I’ll want to wrap around my personal furnace.” She twisted the handle and opened the door. Pausing, Tav threw a last look his way. “I’m happy, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“And I’ll be happy - when this man’s soul is mine,” said her beloved antagonist.

To counter, the protagonist held her head heroically high. “Not a chance in Hell, you rat-fucking-bastard.”

At that, Tav left the Devil’s Den with a smile on her face.

—-

[mrs-monaghan]

Hi! Sorry if the question sounds weird…but I feel like this is a safe place to ask this.

How do you think Jikook handled their intimacy during The Soop, Bon Voyage etc? Also considering the ramen joke, the analysis going around about Jungkook putting on that jacket in BV and so on. Thank you!

I don't understand the question

But I think I get u. Maybe. I'm not sure. Okay we are gonna start from the beginning and I'm just gonna hope this is what u asked 🤭🤭

Bon Voyage season 1:

Well, we know JK ditches Suga to go sleep with Jimin in the living room. Which awwww 🥺🥺🥺

Tweet

BUT, I dont think the SEVENing took place in there. I'm thinking the laundry room. It would explain why they liked doing laundry so much 🤭🤭🤭

I imagine the boat would have been harder, too many people in one room. But if they wanted I'm sure they found a way 😁

Bon Voyage season 2:

This one is easy. They play for rooms, JK looses and he ain't happy to be sleeping on the couch. So Jimin sees his baby is sad n he naturally offers to switch

But JK chooses to sleep on the floor, turning down the offer. Surprising since he knows Yoonmin are sharing a bed. But maybe he'd rather not sleep with Suga 🤭 I'm kidding... I'm kidding 😂😂😂 This was probably JK's hyung kink at play where he likes to look after Jimin. So he'd rather be uncomfortable than have Jimin be uncomfortable.

Anyway, this is further down into episode 7 but u can see Yoonmin are in bed right before Jimin sneaks out the room.

You know he's not just leaving but sneaking out coz he's checking to see if Suga is asleep.

Justice for Suga. Jikook always be ditching him for eo 😂😂😂 anygays, seeing Jimin sneak out in ep 7 tells me he probably did it for the duration of their stay in that house. Coz in the next house, JK lost on purpose and they ended up sharing this room that we never saw the inside of

All we got was a sus photo of JK with smeared lipstick.

Anyone having flashbacks of Osaka Vlive?? 😂🤭 He he he heee...

Then we have the origin of Jikook doing laundry. Of course this is suspicious off the bat. But even more reason is because their stories weren't matching. According to JK, they stayed up till late doing laundry. So from him, they were doing laundry for most of the night.

But according to Jimin laundry was done in the morning???

Well, which is it Jikook????

Anon, these motherfuckers were SEVENing plenty in Hawaii. 👀

Bon Voyage season 3:

I don't really need to delve into this one, do I? Even the most out of touch person knows Jikook were sharing a room. I mean, Jimin was not only supposed to share a room with Suga and Jin, but he was supposed to share a bed with Jin. Now, why tf would he do that when his boyfriend had a room all to himself??

Anyway, analysis by Mizgator here. Timestamp 7:00

I also believe Jimin continued to sleep in that room even after V showed up. Jikook were on their honeymoon after all 🤭🤭🤭

Real talk though, this is what friends do for eo. Members have excused Jikook when they needed the privacy. That's just what people do. I know its bros before hoes, but who is the ho to V if both are his bros?? 😂

Moving on to Bon Voyage season 4:

I already covered how in the first house the SEVENing took place in the RV. So let's move on to camping. Now this is a bit hard to gauge when/where intimacy would have taken place. It was only 2 nights that they camped anyway, so maybe nothing happened during this time? BUT, like I will say many times during this post; it dont matter. If they wanted to SEVEN, it happened irregardless of location.

(There was however some camping sleeping drama that took place. I talk about that here. It has nothing to do with the topic at hand, I just like to bring it up coz I like drama 🤪)

Now onto the second and final house. First of all, we are going to quickly gloss over JK following Vhopemin into this room with all his luggage.

He has no business being there seeing as his roommate was RM. 🤦🏽‍♀️ Oh how satellite Jeon i do love you. 🤭🤭

So anygays, at some point you hear Jimin calling Jhope's name urgently

And then they start whispering and giggling like little kids.

Now that could just be Jihope well, Jihoping but this was when people were going to their rooms. I wouldn't put it past Jimin to enlist his bestfriend's help on Jikook getting a room to themselves at some point.

Like I've mentioned b4, cameras aren't always filming, and friends do each other these kinds of favors all the time. In any case this was a big ass house if Jikook wanted to get their groove on, they got it done.

I think we are good on the BVs so let's move onto In the Soops.

In The Soop season 1:

Here i talk about how JK used to spend the night in what was supposed to be Vmin's room. So that's that. Also if I was them I would have considered using that boat to SEVEN for sure. I hope they did. I mean, they wouldn't have to do nothing. Just let the waves do all the work

Mosquito net incident i dont think they did anything beyond making out, really. JK lost his hoodie, yeah. But Jimin looked the exact same way coming out like he did going in.

So clearly he didn't shed his clothes.

In The Soop season 2:

First there was Jimin's room. And then JK's and Bam's house... I can see it. Especially when JK asked Jimin if he wanted ramen and Jimin ran towards JK's house. I think he got his ramen 😏😏 Something tells me Jimin didn't actually leave, here.

He pretended to, but i don't think he did. I think he stayed and they either turned off the cams or covered them. But I've always had a feeling he didn't actually leave.

But while that's speculation, this however, I think this is a given---> I talk about the drone incident and them going to the forest/bushes 🤭 here. Why would they need to get rid of the camera unless they went to shout in each other's briefcases? 🤷🏽‍♀️ or even to SEVEN? One can get real creative on that ATV. Just saying... 😌😌😌

I knew it was game over because of the way Jimin looked at the camera here.

Look at his faceeeee

He was NOT a fan of that camera in that moment. It's giving flashbacks to this summer package

And then the way they both look at the camera again before taking off

He he heee.... if you ever watch these reality shows again just pay attention to how many times they glance at cameras. Its so funny. It's not really a surprise they waved away that drone for some privacy.

Thanks for the ask, anon. I believe that about covers it, yes?