#scary but that you’d want on your side’ and talks about the same person pacing a few layers deep back at the cafe scene

[ziracona]

Okay so if you don’t walk out to start the confrontation with John in episode 4, and listen to the whole thing, it’s actually less worrying in a ‘is he lying’ way if you hear it all but oh my god; he starts to talk to himself about what if Bruce sent the agents after him to attack him because he’s buddy buddy with the Agency, but is like “No! Bruce would never do that!” back, and anyway, I am trying to play my replay Bruce as very core centered around his relationship with Harvey, so he never doubted John vocally about what happened (although he’s thinking it through seriously of course), and the scene is SO different that way. He never attacks you, he’s not confrontational or aggressive, just relieved and stressed and worried. But also, he talks a little more about what happened, and playing this again, I think from how John describes it all, they also wrote John as someone with a dissociative disorder (though not DID obvious because no amnesia and more drift combo type switching than switch-switching), and that’s really cool because you like. Never see any dissociative disorder but DID at all (and DID itself once in a blue moon and then at least 70% of the time totally warped and demonized) but anyway, fascinating and I like that, but it also is absolutely going to color how Bruce is/will handle everything with John, like, you can ask him if he’s back to his normal self again instead of the him who fought the agents, and John will consider and he’s absolutely not for a second but then is and tries to worriedly assure you that he will not be the other one again and it’s nothing to worry about, and I’m just like it’s ok John don’t even worry I’m not judging or scared about that, but yeah I’m glad my playthrough Bruce picks up that kind of thing so fast. Doing so in S1 really helped me keep Harvey as okay as humanly possible, and damn if I’m not gonna do the same here for John.

[thosetwofirefighters]

"What if I didn't like it?"

For the starter sentence prompt ily xx 💜

meeeeegs I'm sorry I wrote this and then overthought it and let it sit on my laptop for weeks hehe anyway I love you! thank you for this lovely sentence prompt <3

send me a sentence and i'll write the next five whatever it inspires

read on AO3

“What if I didn’t like it?” Eddie refuses to look up from the mug of coffee in his hand, speaking quietly. He’s tense—has been since Pepa first told him about the date she’d set up with Vanessa. He had wanted to tell her that morning but just going along with it was easier.

The date had gone well, all things considered. Vanessa could’ve stormed out, thrown her drink in his face, or told her tia—and by extension Pepa—everything Eddie had told her. Instead, she’d smiled at him—not as pityingly as it could’ve been—and softly told him to talk to his tia. So now, a few days later, here he is drinking coffee and eating conchas in Tia Pepa’s living room and attempting to come out to her without swallowing his tongue.

“Then you try a different restaurant, Edmundo,” Pepa responds lightly, like it’s obvious. She’s always been good at reading him, so he can’t imagine she doesn’t notice the stiffness in his shoulders, the tension in his jaw. He’s not sure why she’s ignoring it—usually, she’d be pestering him to tell her what’s wrong—but he’s grateful she’s letting him go at his own pace.

“I’ve got a list, if you’re interested,” she continues. “Multiple lists actually—date ideas, some of my other friends’ nieces and daughters. I know being set up by your old tia might not be the most attractive idea, but you’ve just gotta find the right woman.”

She grabs his hand, the one not wrapped tightly around his coffee mug. He lets her keep it, takes comfort in the familiar pressure of her hand in his, and tries not to worry that this might be the last time he’ll be able to. For a moment, he feels guilty about worrying—this is Tia Pepa, his favorite aunt, the one person who has always been on his side—but then he remembers what his parents—his father—had said when he’d tried having this conversation with them at nineteen. He knows Pepa and trusts her so much, but he’d trusted his parents too.

“No, it’s not—” He sighs, not sure how to begin. There’s a beat of silence, Pepa watching with curious eyes. “That’s not what I meant,” he continues. “The date was—Vanessa was fine. That’s not the issue, it—it’s me.”

“Edmundo, what are you talking about?” Pepa asks, squeezing his hand. The touch is comforting, encouraging, but she looks at him like he’s crazy. “You aren’t—you’re not an issue that needs to be solved. I know it’s scary—being alone—but we just need to find you the right woman.”

“Tia, please,” Eddie pleads, meeting her eyes for the first time since they sat down. “You don’t need to find me a woman—that’s not—I’m not—my person isn’t going to be a woman.”

Her gaze softens, her hold on his hand tightening briefly before she pulls away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Oh, mi Edmundo,” she says, reaching up to place a warm hand on his shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for. I am so sorry that you’ve been holding this in for so long, that you didn’t think you could tell me. That you thought I would judge you.” She shakes her head sadly, reaching a hand up to brush away the few tears Eddie lets fall.

“Te amo,” she continues. “Always. Nothing could ever change that.”

Eddie’s throat tightens, and he takes a deep breath to stave off more tears. “Thank you. I’ve been—I didn’t mean to hide it from you, and I knew—hoped—that you’d be supportive, but I was just so…worried.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I understand, Eddie.”

She stands then, disappearing into the kitchen, returning after a moment with a new plate of conchas and the coffee pot, topping off Eddie’s and refilling her own. Eddie’s eyes drift back to his mug when Pepa disappears again, watching the dark coffee dance with the cream already in the cup. Tia Pepa returns, sitting in the same spot next to him and setting a notepad that she’d pulled out from some drawer on her lap.

“Now,” she starts, “what are you looking for in a man?”

Eddie barks out a surprised laugh, shaking his head fondly. “I’m not looking for a man, Tia.”

“Edmundo, please.”

“No, Tia, you don’t understand,” Eddie says, grinning. “It’s not that I don’t want someone, I just—I’ve already found him.”

She pauses, her mug halfway to her mouth, and for a moment, confusion flits across her face before her expression melts, and Eddie almost cries again at the giddiness in her smile. “Buck?” she asks softly, hopefully.

Eddie nods. “I haven’t—he doesn’t know yet.”

“But you’ll tell him, right? Soon?”

“I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

She smiles wider. “Don’t wait much longer, or Christopher and I will have to step in, okay? You’ve been alone for too long already, mi sobrino.”

Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “I’m not alone, Tia. Buck and I aren’t together—”

“Yet,” Pepa interjects.

“Yet —hopefully. But that doesn’t mean I’m alone,” Eddie continues. “I haven’t been alone for a while.”

Pepa takes a long sip of her coffee before setting it back down onto the table in front of them and reaching a warm hand out to pat Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m so happy for you, mijo.”

[hotwings0203]

Idk what this is but the thought of you being scared of Bakugos quirk is so hot to me

Tw:noncon, predatory behavior

“I swear he’s getting to be more and more like a villain every time I see him,” you giggle with Mina as you two walk out of the class. Bakugo had yet again exploded at one of your shared teachers for correcting him in his pronunciation of a word, and as usual it was quite a scene to behold. Chairs were almost thrown, his friends had to hold him back from leaping up while others egged him on, itching for amusement in their mind-numbingly dull class.

“Maybe Shigaraki was right,” your pink-haired friend snorts and you both collapse in wheezes, clawing and slapping at each other’s shoulders as the ludicrous image of Shigaraki being unable to reign in Bakugo comes to mind.

“Hey ladies, what’re you two laughing about?” A lilting and charming voice comes right at your ear, and you turn to see Denki, Kirishima and…Bakugo walking next to you.

Just because of his proximity and how you were literally just talking about him two seconds ago, you jump away from Bakugo’s glowering face and not so subtly hide behind Mina in a half playful jest.

“Huh? Whatcha ya jumpin’ around for?” Kirishima laughs and you exchange an embarrassed look with Mina.

“Oh nothing, we were just talking about how Bakugo’s quirk is totally villainous. We’re lucky he’s on our side,” Mina singsongs, but you slap her arm in alarm.

And well placed alarm at that, because Bakugo’s scowl deepens as he turns his head to you in a death-glare. You swallow hard seeing his expression and try to nervously laugh.

“But, uh, we were just joking. Right Mina?” You give her a pointed look and she deflects it happily.

“Nope! At least you weren’t, you’re half scared to death of him, isn’t that right Y/N?”

Denki interrupts before you can sputter in horror.

“Honestly, who isn’t scared of this dude?” He claps the other blond on his back and yelps when Bakugo’s hands start curling with smoke.

“Watch it dumbass.” He cranes his head to meet your eyes, but when he finds that you’re still avoiding eye contact with him he starts moving around his friends to better talk to you.

“My quirk isn’t that scary you idiot. It’s not like I care enough about any of you to blow you up-“

But with the smoke still curling form his hands and with the permanently intimidating scowl on his face reading closer and close to your, you can’t help but squeal and scrabble around him to sink your nails into Kirishima’s shoulders for protection.

“Okay, I get it! You don’t have to come any closer, I can see fine from here.” Your voice comes out too high and strained to be deemed as joking, but nonetheless everyone laughs at your dramatic show.

Everyone but Katsuki. Because he can see you’re actually scared, he’s seen it a hundred times on civilians who try to pretend they’re fine but still have that panicked glint in their eye.

“Jesus Y/N, with a reaction like that maybe he really is a villain. Bakubro, want us to send you back to Shigaraki’s place? Maybe you should reconsider his offer.”

And finally at Denki’s quip everyone including you this time laughs again in playful agreement, but yet again Bakugo’s blood starts simmering further.

Why the fuck were you being so obnoxious? He didn’t do anything to you before, right? So why the hell were you embarrassing him in front of all his friends and making him out to be this bloodthirsty monster?

Well, whatever. If a monster is what you want, then a monster is what you’ll get.

And so he waits for you after school, trailing behind you a couple hundred feet yet still keeping you in sight. He curses when you giggle with your friends, no doubt in his mind that you’re still throwing dirt on his name and he swears under his breath when you talk to Deku and his dweeb friends.

Of course when you hang around ditzy dorks like Deku he’s gonna look like a psycho in comparison.

But at one point you’re by the vending machine alone in a deserted hallway, fumbling with your coins and trying to quickly get a soda before your friends up ahead leave.

Too bad for you, because when he’s done with you they’ll never want to be seen with you again for their own safety.

You’re shoving money in the slot when he silently walks up a couple feet behind you.

“No friends around to gossip about me?”

You shriek and jump a good foot in the air at the sudden voice behind you. Clutching your heaving chest, you whirl around to see who it is.

Your blood runs cold. It’s Katsuki Bakugo, the absolute last person you want to be alone with in a deserted hallway.

Your feet move a step back.

Wrong move.

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen at your insulting retreat. You know he doesn’t take kindly to it, but with an expression like that how could you not?

“Uh, w-what do you mean?” You chuckle nervously.

He doesn’t laugh. In fact, he does something worse.

He matches your steps and moves forward a little bit.

At this you fully take a stride backwards and clash with the vending machine behind you.

He keeps advancing, slowly getting closer and checking you out, his head tilted as his eyes roam up and down your vulnerable body.

“Don’t move back. Why the fuck did you move away from me? That’s rude, we were just having a normal conversation.”

You surprise yourself by sounding level-headed in retaliation. “‘Kinda hard not to be a little uncomfortable when your conversation sounds so accusing.”

He lunges forward and you actually scream this time, throwing your hands up above your head in instinct to protect yourself from his proximity.

Bakugo doesn’t touch you but you can still feel his breath puffing on your head, can still feel the heat from his hands on either side of your body.

“You got a smart mouth don’t you? Is that why you embarrassed me earlier in front of everyone?”

“Embarrassed you-?” You squeak but immediately cut off when he thrusts his face right in front of yours, a manic look on his face as all his facial features stretch into a irate leer.

“I guess we’ll have to fix that tongue of yours. Put it to better use than to talk shit about me, right?”

Vermilion irises move from your face down your body, lingering on your chest and at the apex in between your legs.

Bile rises to your throat as he licks his lips and lets his lips ghost over yours, oh so close yet not touching.

And in the second before he descends, you shove him off with nothing but pure adrenaline feeling your fear and race past him, blindly running down the halls as fast as you can.

Surprisingly, you don’t hear anyone behind you. That doesn’t mean you don’t stop running though.

The real reason you don’t hear anyone behind you is because Katsuki Bakugo has an eerie smile on his face at your bolt. He languidly stretches his arms above his head and relishes in the popping of his joints, and in succession the popping of sparks in his hand. He kicks one leg out, then the other just to ensure you get a fair head start.

You’ve just made this so much more interesting.

He sets off at a light jog, and even in his carefree pace his strides are enough to eventually catch up with you, instinct like an animal’s guiding him through the winding halls and ending up catching a glimpse of your feet as you turn into another lane.

You’re panting, sweat pouring down your eyes as panic makes it hard to breathe or think rationally. The adrenaline that was pushing you is now dying down but at the worst time.

You take a quick glance back and your rapidly beating heart falters as you see him with a grin on his face as he practically jogs leisurely behind you. You’ve seen this same face on him when he’s in the battlefield, blasting through enemy hearts and blowing up heads as if they were fireworks.

He’s bloodthirsty. He wants you.

“Running away again? That’s not very heroic of you babe,” he calls out, and it’s terrifyingly infuriating how he’s not out of breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you half scream and sob, trying to run faster but failing miserably.

You see a bathroom sign out of the corner of your eye and frantically stumble towards it.

Katsuki knows you know he’s even you take a turn and he laughs to himself at how boringly easy this is.

Maybe he was scary.

He shakes it off and continues his hunt after you, coming forth until he faces the bathroom door in which you were cowering behind.

There’s a small window, and no other door. Just a couple of stalls, a terrified girl, and a psycho with the taste of revenge practically palpable on his lustful tongue.

He knock with faux politeness. “You wanna come out and do this the easy way or you want me to barge in and take you myself?”

You sob and wheeze in response, desperately pushing against the flimsy door in a pathetic attempt to keep him out. Bakugo merely crosses his arms and leans against the door, staring intently at it with a smile still on his face.

Judging by the weight pushing more at the bottom of the door, he can tell you’re probably sitting down in an effort to catch your breath.

You both know he can come in at any time he so well pleases, but he decides he’ll play by your rules for a bit longer, indulge you a little before your inevitable downfall.

He hums loudly and slides down to join your parallel position on the floor.

“I’m tryina be nice here, y’know. You acted so scared of me when I never even bothered you before. Aren’t I being nice right now by letting you choose for yourself?”

He sounds so conversational, as if he were talking to one of his buddies. You stay silent but your silence speaks volumes.

It serves as nothing but a means to piss him off further.

The two of you sit in silence for seemingly hours, even though it’s only around 20 minutes. Every second you feel like he’s going to break down the door any second and blast your face off, but miraculously he doesn’t.

You don’t know what you’d rather prefer: for him to prolong your strained agony by letting you be so close yet so far from him, or to end your suffering and get it done with.

But you needn’t sit in silence stewing in your own fear any further, for at the exact moment you begin to doze off with the dying of the light the weight on the other side of the door lifts and you startle awake at the scuffling on the other side.

You blink a couple of times and blanch when you see through the window the purple light indicating that you really have been here longer than you thought.

Bakugo cracks his knuckles and rolls his head, popping a few more kinks in his neck before breathing out and bracing for impact.

“Ready or not little bitch, here I come.”

“Bakugo, wait-!”

But your plea doesn’t last for more than two words. The door bangs open with such a sound that you actually think he’s blasted it straight off his hinges. You gasp and shield yourself, jumping backwards and covering your face.

“‘Thought I made it clear by now that you can’t run. So why’d you try to leave? Huh? Think you’re smarter than me? You think you’re stronger than me?”

He’s stalking forward again, and you’re left tripping back over your feet and whimpering at his salacious intent as he backs you up and corners you into a stall.

He already knows the answers to his rhetorical questions but he wants to hear you say it. He wants to hear that scornful conviction in your voice about how big and bad he was that you used earlier.

With you tripping backwards into the cramped stall, his approach quickens in hunger at feeling you, feeling the fear radiating off your body.

Bakugo presses up against you against the wall and takes up the space around you, invading your personal bubble. He’s everywhere, growling in your ear, hands gripping your waist so tight you’re sure bruises sprout from his touch, his erect penis grinding on the inside of your thigh.

Your trepidation and terror rises to an insurmountable height as he smothers you.

When he suddenly grips your chin and forces your head to face him you gasp. His touch is even more callous than you thought.

“You lookin’ here bitch? Good.”

His palm is raised towards you and before you can even widen your eyes in realization his appendage starts sparking madly. You shriek and try to throw him loose as little bits of embers fly out and made your face, his voice rough as always yet dangerously low and soft.

“S’not so scary after all is it? You’re reacting better to it than I thought.” Bakugo Blanca you mocks your writhing figure as you desperately try to evade the mini explosions.

“Okay, I get it, please stop I don’t like it!” You shrilly cry out but his hand moves from your jaw down to your neck, and squeezes the last remnants of opposition out of you.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad you get it. But honestly, I don’t care if you don’t like it.

Because I like it. I fucking love this quirk, ‘specially when you cower so prettily under it like you did earlier.”

You choke and try to scrabble at his hands but it’s like a butterfly’s touch to him, barely producing any fruition.

“I kept wondering to myself: why do I care if she’s scared of it? And then I realized,” he leans in and lets his lips brush over your ear, lets his hand lessen ever so slightly so that your main focus is his words.

“You just looked good enough to eat when you know you’re beneath me. When you know how dangerous I am.”

He pulls back and assesses the look on your face. “Makes you look good enough to eat.”

And without further ado he lowers his hand and starts rubbing his alit palm on your clothed pussy, his erection getting harder as your screams wilt into whines.

Your legs flail uselessly as he burns a hole through your pants and his fingers hook aside the band of your panties.

Bakugo thrusts his hips forwards and grinds his straining cock on your moist lips, taking in your blubbers and teary eyes.

You can’t even speak, you can only cry out like a child as he thrusts harder and harder, so hard that your back hits the wall painful and the stall walls rattle behind you.

“You-pant-fucking scared-pant-now slut?” He rasps, his head bobbing on rhythm with yours as he practically lifts you off your toes to match his pace.

Your clit is caught between the fabric and rolled cruelly pleasurable as his tip leaks precum, staining your own panties in the process.

With your attention rapt on his now-uncovered dick sliding in and out of your folds, he takes this opportunity to take his other hand off your neck and blast the wall next to your face.

The second you open your mouth in shock as bits of tile rain down on your face he slams his steaming palm over your lips, burning the soft flesh as you weep openly.

He sets off two more near your sides and another above your head, his own face aligned right in front of yours so you can see the mean smile on his face all the while he sets your heart racing at an alarming speed.

When the smoke clears and you can start feeling glass and tile imprint on your once-smooth face, he positions his dick up so that it prods at your hole and yanks your hair back.

His eyes practically glow with the mini fires preserved in the walls with his blasts, the impact of the air rushing around him makes his hair even spikier, his body is taunt and even more imposing than before.

His teeth gleam with the orange and red light next to you. His chest doesn’t heave, because he’s at ease with your terror.

“You think you know fear?”

With one swift movement he shoves up into you, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth.

“You haven’t met me truly yet.”

[elysianslove]

haikyuu boys and tropes that suit them!

includes: kageyama tobio, iwaizumi hajime, oikawa tōru, sakusa kiyoomi, miya osamu, miya atsumu, suna rintarō

(possibly part 1??? consider this an apology for not posting as much 💔)

kageyama tobio — practice kissing. 

kageyama is, as embarrassing as it is for him to admit this, inexperienced, greatly so. he’s in his third year of high school, 18, and is yet to have his first kiss. college is approaching him dauntingly quick, and he doesn’t think he can handle being as clueless as he is for any longer. so while you’re sat on his bed scrolling through his phone, he bluntly asks you if you’ve ever kissed someone. he seemed so confident, and the words were straightforward and lacked any sign of anxiety or uneasiness. but the moment they left his mouth, he’s red in the face and his hands are shaking. when you agree to help him practice, he’s scared, shy, flustered, and his heart is in his throat, but he lets you lead the, setting the pace yourself as you sit before him, his face in your hands, pulling him closer to you. it’s electrifying, to put it to the least. he’d heard a million horror stories from his upperclassmen about first kisses, but he finds himself unable to relate. everything about the kiss and you is perfect, and he asks for more practice, starts looking forward to theses ‘sessions.’ he starts growing more and more confident, until he’s the one flustering you, the one making you gasp and squirm and mewl, not the other way around. and maybe he’ll find it in him to confess. maybe. 

iwaizumi hajime — friends to lovers. 

in general, with iwaizumi, he has a hard time believing in that he’s meant for a relationship, in that he has his own person, and for many reasons. he tries to be rational about it, saying he has other priorities at the moment, that he won’t be able to give his all, that he’s not particularly ready or in the right headspace/situation to commit to a person and a relationship. but it’s also, deep down, because of this indescribable fear of not being enough, of his flaws being too much, of being too imperfect. he just chooses not to get a headache over it, honestly. that’s why friends to lovers is perfect for him. it’s this person who he’s known for a long time, someone he’s come to know so well, so deeply, and vice versa. they’ve seen the bad and good of each other, been through all the ups and downs, learnt all their quirks, their habits, their tendencies. this is someone who is already a priority, someone who is already a constant. of course, he still hurts his head thinking about how wrong it is to have feelings for his friend, and the shame and guilt eats at him from the inside out. but it’s just so— easy. to love them. it’s so, so easy, as easy as breathing. and iwaizumi spends such a large amount of time pining and yearning that the final straw, the snap, the breathless confession, is so satisfying. 

oikawa tōru — enemies to lovers. 

oikawa wants and needs someone that’ll both keep him on his toes, always pushing him to the very edge but not completely over. he needs someone that excites him, someone that he has to work to earn. the word enemies is blurry to him. all he sees is someone playing hard to get, and he takes it as a challenge. it’s not that he wants and needs everyone to be in love with him and how dare you not be swooning at the sight of me!! it’s more that this person intrigues him impossibly. this person challenges him, bites back, and bites back hard. and the transition from enemies to lovers is so smooth with him, because it’s unpredictable and unexpected. one moment you’re swearing at him across the hall, the next you’re tenderly massaging at his injured knee and reassuring him of his hard work and efforts. it’s beautiful, really. the snarky comments and the flirty comebacks and the glares returned with playful grins, and them the moment of realization that opens up a whole new door that this person isn’t so bad after all. the satisfaction of finally giving in, either so slowly, so carefully and timidly, or rushed, hurried and desperate. so good. 

sakusa kiyoomi — there was only one bed! 

sakusa does not share. it’s nothing personal (sometimes it is), but he just prefers to have his own private space, where he can be comfortable. but things happen! like a trip where you’re stuck in the same room! and there’s only one bed! and the person you’re stuck with is the same person you’re very confused in regards to your feelings about them! the trip is a couple of days, and so it starts with the offer to sleep on the couch. it’s very uncomfortable, but he does it anyways, because a) he’s a gentleman, and b) you both now each have your private, safe space. two days pass, and you both tiredly pass out on the bed next to one another. he wakes up before you in horror and falls onto the couch quickly, but he doesn’t fall asleep again. as if this were fate’s play, you find yourself unable to sleep, and neither can he, so you quietly scoot over, a silent invitation. reluctantly, he accepts. he doesn’t spend that night sleeping either, instead simply stares at you, his hand outreaching for you, but not quite touching. eventually comes a day when he wakes up with your face buried in his shoulder, and although his cheeks are as warm as ever, he doesn’t feel uncomfortable. he only feels grateful to be finally touching you. 

miya osamu — soft only for their lover. 

it’s not that osamu is rude to others, or hates everyone else, or anything along those lines. it’s more that he’s less likely to open up, be vulnerable, be softer, easier than compared to with his partner. with his lover, he smiles easier, expressions are readable, his eyes always a dead giveaway to what’s on his mind. he’s colder and less approachable to others, but it’s almost as if his resolve melts the moment he spots his lover. he could be yelling at someone, angrily, then turn to his partner and in the softest voice say, “just a moment, my love,” and go back to yelling as if it were completely normal. similarly, he will always take his lover’s side of the argument regardless of whether they’re right or wrong. and, he’ll be kissing his lover, but pause for a moment to deck his brother, then return to kissing his lover again even softer. it’s because his lover owns such a big part of his heart, and when osamu loves, he loves with every part of him. he’s been called out on it multiple times; the fact that he’s so much meaner and harsher and stubborn with everyone else, including his brother, but it’s always the opposite with you. you are his soft spot, really, and it tickles your tummy whenever you notice the little changes and shifts in his attitude and personality when it comes to you. 

miya atsumu — enemies to lovers. 

unlike with oikawa’s case, you and atsumu genuinely hate each other. you despise his attitude, his cockiness, his ideals, his approaches, his voice, his hair, everything, and likewise, he can’t stand you. he’d only ever been rude to you, and in response, you’d defended yourself by being equally as rude. this isn’t playing hard to get enemies, this is i hate your guts enemies. rarely does being in a room with him not result in some sort of argument. your mutual friends are all fed up, of the arguments, the fighting, the smack talk behind one another’s backs, the complaining, everything. it’s infuriating, and so they beg you to talk it out, to try and resolve whatever it was going on between you, but either he wouldn’t cooperate, or you wouldn’t. it seemed hopeless, until at some point in time, you get badly hurt, maybe mentally or physically, but atsumu finds himself worried unbelievably. it’s irrational to be, especially with your history with one another. but he’s worried, insanely so, and when he finds you, finds out you’re okay, or you will be, the relief that fills him is dizzying and so, scary. but maybe the both of you were just projecting onto each other, the fact that you so badly wanted each other but felt like you couldn’t do anything. 

suna rintarō — brother’s best friend. 

it’s a dash of forbidden love, a dash of friends to lovers. he’s your brother’s best friend, older than you, and it’s wrong, you know it is, but you can’t help it. on the days he’s invited over, you purposely make sure to stay at home, and you make excuses to pass by your brother’s room constantly, to talk to him. he knows you like him, knows you’re desperately chasing after him in your own subtle way, and for a while, suna lets you. he acts dumb, none the wiser, lets you have your little fun of sneaking snaps of him to send to your friends and when you purposely press your leg against his sitting next to him on the couch or when you offer your lollipop after you suck on it. he indulges you, slightly, subtly. and when he sees it suitable, finds it right, he starts to return the advances: he accidentally arrives a little earlier than planned to your home when he’s invited, and he passed by you in school more often, and he makes up excuses to text you all the time. eventually, the sexual tension is unbearable, suffocating, incredibly overwhelming, and when it snaps, nothing else matters. just the two of you. he’s experienced, good with his words and his hands and his mouth and he’s a dream. and all you do is fall deeper, and deeper, and deeper. 

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Baji Being A Menace To Society (And Your Relationship) 2.0

Sequel to: Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker

Summary: Baji’s at it again, acting out-of-pocket and creating chaos for absolutely no reason, other than to see you suffer. In his own Baji-esque way, of course.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): Boku no Pico is mentioned, but there is absolutely nothing graphic; mentions of masturbation

Note(s): I am so sorry if it isn’t funny. Sadly, I am but an amateur writer, not a comedian. Still, I hope you all enjoy! ^^

"(Y/n), want some ice cream? My treat."

Usually, you'd be the first to jump at an offer for a sweet treat, especially when you don't have to pay. However, as of now, the word 'ice cream,' when said by Baji, instantly triggers your fight-or flight-response. Paired with the fact that he’s broke as hell, your suspicions only increase for the sudden indulgence.

Since you know you're no match for the long-haired menace, your body automatically prepares to flee, legs twitching to lurch into a sprint. Unfortunately for you, just before you can get the fuck out of there, your hand is being grabbed by Mikey, who leisurely begins to tug you along to claim your dessert.

“You like ice cream, right?” he turns to ask, eyes unbelievably soft when looking at you.

And because you’re weak for him, all you can do is nod stiffly, trading in your sanity for the pleased grin that spreads across his face, his confident strides thereafter likely a result of him successfully remembering another miscellaneous fact about you, as has been the case since you officially started dating him. From the most trivial of things, like which brand of pens and pencils you prefer, to the slightly more important stuff, like ice cream being one of your favorite desserts; he’s made the effort of remembering them all.

He really doesn’t need to do any of that, ‘cause you’ll love him either way, but the conscious decision to do so is what makes you love him even more.

Zoning back into reality, you shake your head to reorient yourself. It isn’t the time to be going over the reasons why you’re such a lovesick puppy.

No, there are other things to worry about, mainly Baji.

You squeeze Mikey’s hand as you’re led to the nearest ice cream parlor to try and calm yourself. It works for the most part, especially when you get a reassuring squeeze back.

‘Right,’ you tell yourself, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

After all, Baji wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right?

~~~

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Despite nothing having transpired yet, every alarm in your head is going off, pounding at the door of reason to get you to wake up and realize that it’s Baji you’re talking about, the same person that sets cars on fire when hungry and punches the first unfortunate soul he passes by on the street when sleepy.

You really should’ve listened to your survival instincts and ran. Alas, it’s much too late to escape, leaving you to wallow in your anxiety, while you wait for misfortune to strike.

And strike it does.

“Please, don’t sit next to me. You make me nauseous.”

“That’s cruel. I bought you ice cream, and you treat me like this?”

Yeah, he may have bought it, but you refuse to eat it because of how intensely Baji is staring at you. Fucking weirdo.

"Oh, do you want some of mine instead, (Y/n)?" Baji accentuates his question with a sensual lick to his ice cream from the edge of the cone to the finessed peak, making you extremely uncomfortable as he stares you down with the full motion.

As slowly as he licks his frozen treat do you slowly raise your middle finger, eliciting chuckles from the other occupants of the table.

You think you won that mini battle, though?

Ha! Nope.

Baji mirrors the vulgar action, not once breaking eye contact as he dips the tip of his finger directly into his ice cream, pulls it out, and proceeds to lick that, too.

Disgusted, you promptly avert your attention elsewhere, praying that Baji won’t continue being, well, himself.

Your prayers fall on deaf ears.

"It's cold!" As soon as the exclamation leaves your mouth, your blood runs glacial, knowing that you've unintentionally played into Baji's trap. The appearance of a sly, almost feral, smirk when you whip your head around to glare confirms what you already know.

The curtain has risen, and you’re standing center stage in a performance you can’t break free from.

"Aw, can't let it go to waste,” Baji continues, reaching over to scoop the ice cream you’re 100% certain he purposely spilled on the front of your shirt, with his fingers.

Then, to your horror and everyone else’s shock, he asks, without an ounce of virtue to his name, "Want me to lick it off with my mouth?"

Chifuyu is seated on the other side of the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Baji-san...”

"It'll stain if it dries like that." Dear God, how you wish to un-see Baji batting his eyelashes at you.

“I don’t care!” At this point, you’ve resorted to clumsily scooting your chair as far away from him as possible, which isn’t actually as far as you’d like considering your surroundings. Hell, so long as you put some distance between yourself and the crazy bastard that wants to see you suffer, you don’t mind having to force yourself halfway onto Mikey’s lap. (The firm hand that keeps you steady by the waist proves that your presence isn’t unwanted either.)

"Geez, (Y/n), you're such a scatterbrain."

Seeing Baji sell the line with a slow tugging of his hair behind the ear has you torn between laughing and dying a little more. Truthfully, his acting is frighteningly impressive, and you would’ve applauded his performance, if not for the fact that the role he’s playing still haunts your dreams.

By this time, most of who accompanied you to the ice cream parlor have figured out what kind of drugs Baji is on this time, which also means that those fuckers have seen, or are at least aware of, the cursed trilogy of questionable porn that’s being reenacted before their eyes, with you as an unwilling co-star. Those that are puzzled as to why people are shoving their fists in their mouths to refrain from laughing are obviously God’s favorites.

“The fuck is going on? I wanna laugh at Baji’s dumbassery, too.”

“Pah-chin... I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Interestingly enough, the one you’re most concerned about hasn’t said anything yet, splitting his attention between observing the scene unfolding and eating his portion of a deluxe sundae.

Then, out of nowhere-

“I understand.”

You and Baji freeze where you are, each of you grasping the other’s collar, you to shove him away, and him to draw you closer.

“(Y/n),” Mikey says, your name rolling silkily off his tongue in a tone much too fond for his next words, “if you like roleplay, just tell me.”

...

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with pissing, remember? So, roleplay shouldn’t be a problem.”

Heat rises to your face at an alarming pace, and it continues to climb as Mikey takes your free hand in his, which serves not to comfort but to unintentionally remind you of the humiliating experience from a few months back. And just when you convinced him that you didn’t want anything to do with getting freaky with the body’s excreta, too.

“You’ve got it wrong! I don’t- arfghfgh?!”

Your prayer to help cool down your flushed cheeks must have been heard, but you’re pretty damn sure you didn’t ask for Baji to shove his ice cream in your mouth!

“Oh, yeah. (Y/n)’s a fuckin’ geek when it comes to roleplay,” the unhinged bastard speaks in your stead, indifferent to the nails clawing at his hand clamped over your mouth. “You should try it with him. We were doing a scene from his favorite anime.”

Mikey tilts his head, interest positively piqued. “Which one is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, leader?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

Baji opens his mouth.

You lunge.

It’s a series of events that happens in the blink of an eye and ends with loud crashing as you tackle Baji to the ground.

“Listen up, Baji Keisuke. We took an oath that day, and if you dare utter a word of what went down, I’ll consider that a breach of the code of secrecy and take you down, making sure you drown in a pit of your own shame and despair.”

Surprised to have been pinned down so quickly, it takes a while for Baji’s brain to catch up, but when it does, he’s frustratingly unfazed at the threat.

“Oho~ How scary. Too bad for you, I have no shame.”

“Not even if I tell Mama Baji where your porn stash is?”

That has the great Baji tensing up.

“You wouldn’t dare use an underhanded tactic like that.”

Your lips turn into a wicked grin. “Are you sure? I have as much dirt on you as you have on me, and like you, I won’t hesitate to use it to my advantage.”

If your grin is wicked, Baji’s is downright evil, showing off his sharp, gritted canines and all.

“You got balls, (Y/n),” he snarls, “but mine are bigger.”

The boy beneath you opens his mouth, and faster than you can stop him, he just...does it.

“(Y/n) (L/n) watched Boku no Pico and liked it!”

Silence.

Silence is all that’s heard for a good, long minute following the booming roar of the revelation.

You dare not look up to gauge everyone’s reactions, instead keeping your icy glare fixated on Baji, who looks smug as shit for having caused the glorious eruption of heat to spread like wildfire across your entire body, from the tips of your ears down to where your skin disappears under the collar of your jacket.

This...

This is war.

Taking in a deep breath, you answer his uncalled for declaration with your own thunderous shout of, “Baji watched Boku no Pico and jacked off to it! Twice!”

Baji laughs. “Oh, pray tell, saintly (Y/n), how many times did you jack off to it?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Pretty fucking sure it is, since we were in the same room.”

Someone chokes, while you choke Baji.

“We. Swore. To. Secrecy. You. Asshole,” you practically growl, with each of your words accompanied by a ruthless back-and-forth shaking of the other boy’s person.

“Let up on the choking, dude. I’m not into that. You, however-”

Unable to take the ceaseless slander to your name anymore, you reel your fist back, but, upon seeing Baji’s cheek turned to you, jaw jutted out, as if inviting you to take your best shot, you hesitate. You know you wouldn’t be able to pack enough of a punch to actually leave an impact on him, which is terribly upsetting.

On the bright side, there’s still one tactic you can use that’ll be just as effective, a technique courtesy of your health teacher, who happily taught it to the class to use in case of an emergency.

Technically, it’s meant to be used to assess a person’s level of consciousness, but you suppose it can be used to get back at inconsiderate idiots, too.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuc-! Ow!”

You keep a straight face as you continue to rub your knuckles against his sternum, fully intent on delivering the worst possible pain to the current bane of your existence. It brings a sort of sadistic satisfaction to hear the ever prideful Baji’s screams of pain, and while it doesn’t completely undo the damage done, it does help soothe your wounded self-esteem.

“You want me stop? Beg for it.”

“Pissing, roleplay, choking, and begging? Goddam- OW!”

Your reign of terror comes to its untimely end when you’re lifted up into the air by the armpits, and through the haze of your power trip, you realize that Baji’s saving grace is Draken, who proceeds to carry you out of the parlor with ease.

“People are staring,” he coolly explains when you protest to having unfinished business.

Pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s his fault.”

Once outside, Draken doesn’t immediately put you back on your feet, until Mikey strolls out of the parlor. Only when the gang leader has his arms outstretched to you are you promptly deposited on the ground and taken into his embrace.

“Are you done letting off some steam?” is the first thing he asks you. Even though you can’t see his expression, the way he holds you and the way he cradles the back of your head, handling you with the utmost care, is indication enough that there will be no reprimand for, essentially, assaulting your division commander. (You would argue that it was an act of self defense against verbal harassment, but whatever.)

There’s just an overwhelming amount of love. So, so, so much love for each other.

“Yeah, I am,” you eventually answer, followed by a content sigh.

“Good.”

Naturally, that’s the perfect time for the tinkling of the bells above the parlor door to pilfer your attention. Baji’s appearance causes your face to morph into a scowl.

You cling tighter to Mikey, peeking over his shoulder to flip the ravenet off and mouth, ‘Go to Hell.’

As always, Baji answers your attempt to appear opposing with an obnoxious smirk.

‘See you there.’

~~~

“Boku no Pico, huh?”

“Draken, don’t laugh! Baji forced me to watch it!”

“All 3 episodes?”

“Twice.”

“...”

“...”

“Favorite scene...?”

“As if I’d have one.”

"Actually-"

“Ahh! Shut up! Why are you here, stupid Baji?! You live in the other direction!”

~~~

“Hey, (Y/n). Want to try doing the same thing with me?”

You look up, perplexed. Mikey literally just walked into the room, and that was the first thing he said to you.

“Do wha-?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you turn your head, only for you to come centimeters from bumping noses with him. And because he can, he lovingly knocks your foreheads together, too.

“It’s okay. I promise it’ll definitely be fun.”

You should feel ashamed for recognizing the same sequence of lines from Boku no Pico so quickly, though any coherent words are overtaken by an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, a feat achieved solely by a teenage boy going through puberty.

A combination of shock and amusement crosses over Mikey’s features then. He’s never heard you make that sound before.

It’s cute. Strains the ears quite a bit, but cute.

While Draken lurks beside him, questioning Mikey’s standards of what constitutes as ‘cute,’ you’re sprinting across the room, red-faced, to Baji, who’s already grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Stop tainting my boyfriend, you piece of shit! Give him back his innocence!”

(Unbeknownst to you, whilst immersed in your fit of hysterics, your use of the word ‘boyfriend’ has a certain blond beaming.

“Did you hear that, Ken-chin? He called me his boyfriend.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Mikey either doesn’t give a shit or is simply too smitten to acknowledge Draken’s apathetic response.)

Baji blinks, unable to believe what you’re trying to insinuate. “Innocent? That little gremlin motherfucker?”

Both of you look in Mikey’s direction. When he sees you staring, he breaks out in a smile and throws a wave.

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight, and, okay, you’re convinced. Mikey deserves better than knowing of that cursed series’ existence.

Clearly, you’re down bad for Toman’s leader, and as such, Baji figures he can use that to quench his boredom for the day.

“Ooh, if only you knew what he gets off to.”

The tone in his voice instantly rouses suspicion. You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care what kind of porn he gets off to.”

“Porn? Nah, ya silly goose-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Baji ignores your comment as he moves to sling one arm around your shoulders, the other raising up to mimic an obscene tugging motion that no teenage boy is a stranger to.

“He jerks it to yo-”

BAM!

One second, Baji is lazily hanging off of your person, the next, he’s sprawled out on the floor, face down, and groaning in pain. You expect nothing less after witnessing him receive a rather impressive flying kick to the chest from Mikey.

Before you can assess the full damage, your view gets obscured by a pair of keys.

“Wanna take my bike out for a spin?”

Yes, you know Mikey is trying to divert your attention from whatever Baji was going to say, and, yes, you probably should check on the figure that has yet to get up.

But do you really care?

You take one glance at Baji’s concerningly unmoving body and quickly come to a conclusion.

You do not.

That being said, you quite literally drag Mikey and, by extension, Draken out of there, chanting an excited, “Let’s go!” on your way, abandoning Baji to wither on the ground.

Baji?

Baji feels betrayed.

~~~

"Chifuyu?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know, I was joking.” Baji flips onto his back with a grunt. “Man, who knew Mikey was all grown up?”

The vice captain of the first division hums, seemingly uninterested in his commander’s musings.

It goes quiet for a few minutes, the sole instigator of noise being Chifuyu flipping the pages of his manga.

Unpredictable is Baji, and the same goes for his train of thought.

“I should punch Mikey for kicking me.”

“No, you’d get beat up.”

“...”

“I should punch (Y/n) for Mikey kicking me.”

Truly, unpredictable and senseless.

“You’d still get beat up.”

Baji opens his mouth to argue.

“By Mikey.”

He promptly closes it.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep spicing up their relationship as payback.”

Sighing, Chifuyu closes his book to crouch down next to him. “Baji-san, with all due respect, you’re an asshole.”

Baji Keisuke has experienced betrayal twice today.

And he deserved it both times.

[kingdaddydaichi]

can i request consensual hate sex between bakugou and f!reader

Oooooh yassssss! This idea got better and better the more I thought about it, Nonny. Love it! I hope you enjoy this naughty little slice of grudge fuck pie. 💖

Riding The Fine Line 💥 Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader 💥 NSFW

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT or I'll have my Big Scary BoomBoom Man blow your little ass up!

Word Count: 2k

"Oi! Who picked this shitty restaurant anyway?", Bakugou sneered as he walked towards the table.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled, "Oh look, Gorilla Man is here".

"Watch it, shitty girl. M'not in the mood for your shit tonight".

You'd made plans earlier in the week to meet Kiri and Mina for dinner. You knew Bakugou had been invited too, but after having suffered through it so many times over the past year or so of having some friends in common, you somehow managed to tolerate his presence. It helped that the drink you'd been sipping on made him somewhat less intolerable than usual.

It was like nails down a chalkboard every time Bakugou reared his big dumb head. His only redeeming quality was that he was quite easy on the eyes. Shame that such a hot guy is also such a huge asshole.

He's always given everyone a hard time, but unlike most people, you just wave a dismissive hand at him. And it makes him crazy. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t get under your skin like he so easily does others. Oh, he annoys the piss out of you to be sure, but he doesn't hurt your feelings per se.

"Y'know, for such a massive ego yours sure is delicate, you meat head".

"Oh yeah? Well, for such a massive ass yours s-"

"God, Bakugou, do you ever just shut up?", you snipped.

Kiri and Mina both jumped in, laughing nervously and smoothing things over to lower the tension. He growled at you. You flipped him a subtle bird before looking away and trying to ignore him.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Kiri's birthday was approaching and several of his friends decided to throw him a surprise birthday party. You, Denki, Mina, and ugh, as luck would have it, Bakugou, were are all put in charge of decorating his house while some other friends took him out for dinner. Midway through, Mina whined while sorting through various sacks, "Oh no! We forgot the disposable rainbow shot glasses!" Mina had a way of putting a cute touch on everything she had her hands in. Denki offered to go with Mina to procure the missing miniature party cups, leaving you and Bakugou alone to hang streamers in Kiri's living room. Probably not the wisest of decisions, but consider the source. 👀

It didn't take long after they were gone for Bakugou to start in on you with his bullshit. Only this time no one was around to referee. You groaned. This was going to be a free for all. You'd already both cut eyes at each other a couple of times.

"You're not doing it right, dumbass!"

"That's a matter of opinion and you can shove yours up your ass, dumbass".

He flipped you off saying, "You can shove this up your ass!", then turned back to his task.

You were so done. Without thinking, you reared back and hurled the roll of streamers as hard as you could, nailing him right in the back of the head. Damn, it felt good.

He whipped around, a vein popping out of his forehead, clenching his teeth. You were quite proud of your aim until he made little explosions in his free hand and said, "You're really pushing your luck with me, woman! If we weren't in Kiri's house right now I'd blast you right through that fucking wall!"

"Pfft, whatever! You wouldn't do shit. You're all bark and no bite, you fucking douche canoe!"

"You ever stop to think that maybe if you weren't such a bitch guys might actually want to talk to you?"

That did it. He'd finally found one of your hot buttons and you couldn't take his shit anymore. You marched right up to him and got right up in his face, height difference be damned.

"You know what, fuck you, Bakugou! I'm not normally like this! You're the only person who…drives me to this madness!", you spat with tears in your eyes.

A second later, his hands were on either side of your face, crashing his lips down onto yours. You were so shocked you froze before pulling away from him, staring at him in astonishment. He just stood there, huffing, glaring back at you, waiting.

You stepped forward and pushed him, his back hitting the wall, hard. But before he could protest, your lips were on his again. He grabbed you by your arms and spun you around, pinning you against the wall. You slipped your tongue past your open mouth, his meeting yours halfway as he pushed his knee between your legs. He pressed his thigh against your sex, shoving his growing cock against your thigh in the process.

Taking the bottom of his shirt into two fistfuls, you eagerly pushed it up to his chest, exposing his washboard abs and god-like pecs. He quickly pulled it over his head and threw it to the floor while your shaky hands got busy with his belt and zipper, urgently, like you couldn't get to him soon enough. But his will took over when he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head so he could peel your shirt off. He dipped down to take a mouthful of your tit, cupping what he couldn't fit in his rough hand, swirling his tongue around your nipple, sucking, then releasing you from the inside of his mouth to flick the tip of his tongue over your pink nub. You grabbed two handfuls of his ash blond locks and arched your back off the wall as he gave your other breast the same treatment.

You impatiently tugged on his hair, hungry for the taste of his sweet lips again. Your tongues once again fought for dominance and you gasped when he picked you up in one swift movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to Kiri's bedroom, swinging the door shut behind him before slamming your back against it.

"Put me down", you said forcefully.

He stopped sucking on your neck long enough to rasp, "And why the fuck should I?"

"Because I want to get into your fucking pants, asshole".

For once you two agreed on something and with your feet back on the floor, you got back to work on his pants before reaching in and wrapping your hand around his hot dick. Shit, you could barely get your fingers all the way around it, it was so thick. You stroked him a couple of times before pulling him out, exposing his manhood in all of its mouth-watering glory.

He ran his hand down his sculpted stomach, spreading his fingers to either side of his girth. "Like what you see?" You realized you were staring at his dick and the pre that dripped from it.

"Wouldn't you like to know?", you sassed.

He growled and spun you around, pushing your front against the wall and swiftly closing in behind you. Wisps of your (color) hair fluttered around his hot breath as he breathed down your neck. "You keep on tryin' to hide it, but you want me just as much as I want you, princess, and I'm gonna make an honest girl outta ya".

His battle-hardened hands found their way down your back, around your waist and all the way to your belly before he slid them down, his fingers reaching below your waistband. You willed him to push his hands further down, pressing your backside against his erection. He used one deft hand to unbutton your pants and work your zipper down, granting himself better access. When he mercifully slipped his middle finger between your folds, you couldn't choke back the moan that emerged from the back of your throat.

"Damn", he growled behind your ear, "for someone who can't stand me, your pussy sure is wet for me".

"Shut up", you gritted through your teeth.

The feeling of the rough pad of his finger teasing your swollen clit nearly sent you over the edge. But it was short-lived and you whined when he pulled his hand away to shove your pants down around your ankles, accompanied by your damp panties. Your hands slid down the wall as he yanked your ass back towards him. You hung your head and watched the head of his cock as Bakugou fucked your thighs, back and forth over your slit, coating his fat cock with your slick, readying himself.

When he began pushing into you, your legs shook from the sheer pressure as he slowly filled you up. When he bottomed out, he held himself still, at least considerate enough to give you time to adjust to his size. He waited until you started grinding against him before grabbing your hips, and slowly withdrawing.

"Now let's see if I can fuck all that hate for me out of you". Before you could retort, he slammed his cock back into you, your pitiful cry mixed with his loud groan echoing off the walls of Kiri's bedroom. He set his pace, steady and hard, the cold buckle of his open belt pressing into your skin with every crash of his hips.

"Yeah, who knows? Maybe if you'd get your dick wet every once in a while you wouldn't act like one", you quipped, voice faltering as he pounded into you.

He slowed his pace to bend over you, pushing your hair out of the way before biting down on the nape of your neck.

"Oww!! What the fuck?!"

He stood up straight again, laughing and said, "All bark and no bite, hah? You just hadn't pushed me far enough yet!" The sweet and salty mixture of his sweat and your need could be heard with every loud slap of his skin against yours.

"Fuck! Bakugou-", you whined in spite of yourself.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and gave it a firm tug. "When're ya gonna stop callin' me by m'last name and call me Katsuki instead?"

"When you stop acting like a raging asshole towards me", you managed as he fucked the breath out of you.

"Brave words for someone in such a compromising position. Now - say - my - fucking - name!". Each word came with its very own plunge of his cock into your mess of a cunt.

Your legs started to give out. "Katsuki!" You hadn't meant to obey him, but he'd kept his word and made you honest.

"That's better". You could hear the smirk in his voice after hearing his first name fall from your quivering lips.

You turned to face him when he pulled out, kissing him hard, his fingers going into your hair. You inched backwards onto the bed, Katsuki crawling in towards you with a primal look in his crimson eyes before nestling his thighs between yours and sheathing himself deep inside you again. Your head rolled back as you arched your back off the bed. Gods, the feeling of him filling you up was quickly becoming your new favorite sensation.

He nuzzled his face against your neck as he rutted into you, pulling your thigh up to his hip bone, raking his teeth against your skin. His breathing had become more labored and he started thrusting faster, your pleasure mounting with the increased friction of his pubic bone against your clit until rays of bliss shot out from every pore of your skin at the speed of light.

"K-ka-tsuki, I'm c-cumming hahh oh goddd!" The pulsating grip that you had on him finally sent him to his end as well, growling your name and cursing between clenched teeth, burying himself deep inside you as he unloaded rope after thick rope of his white hot cum into your snug, soft warmth.

"Seems Shitty Hair’s gonna get more than one surprise tonight", Katsuki said, catching his breath.

You laughed so hard that Katsuki hissed at the feeling of your walls squeezing his sensitive cock so soon after his orgasm.

"You still hate me?", he asked, brushing his lips against yours, supporting his weight with his elbows.

"Hmm...that depends", you said thoughtfully, tracing the cut of his back muscles with your fingertips.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you'd still fuck me if I don't hate you".

He smirked. "I'd still hit it even if you love me", he whispered, showing his softer side as he kissed you, smiling.

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way. 

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

2.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

3.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he���s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.  

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your  body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth  as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

[btsbling]

— Chocolate Syrup — Kth

🍒 pairing: Taehyung x reader

🍒 genre: sugardaddy!au, fluff, relationship!au

🍒 warning: smut, daddy!kink, breeding, unprotected sex (stay safe), foodplay

🍒 summary: When he asks you to become his

🍒 w/c: 2.54k 

©️ Btsbling (i do not own any BTS members except for the fanfiction)

The sound of the elevator rang through the hallways as Taehyung stepped out. Loosening his tie, while the other held onto his suit jacket and phone. He sighed and stretched his neck as he walked through the corridor to his luxury penthouse.

It was another tiring day, the office was buzzing, non-stop calling and meetings. Yet another day of fun filled signings of new business ideas.

Taehyung combed through his hair, he could finally take a breather when the clock striked twelve. He was finally done for the day and longed to rush back to his penthouse for, someone special.

He’d never thought he would ever admit it. But he had found a place for you in his heart. It was never supposed to be something long-term. Only for its short-term benefits that would provide him with immense feelings of satisfaction.

Taehyung had met you, fatefully, under the dim lights that slightly lit the bar. He had a meeting with one of his associates there. He didn’t understand why or how, but the way your eyes glimmered as you conversed with the customer in front of you, your actions while making drinks, captivated him. Everything about you, attracted him like bees to honey.

The pull he felt towards you was indescribable and he felt his eyes resting onto you whenever he got distracted which was, frequently. You weren’t dressed as scandalous as the performers on stage, but neither were you conservative. He couldn’t see anything behind the bar, but your shirt was a tight fit and provided him with enough cleavage, making his dick grow tighter in his pants.

But after the meeting, he had realised you were long gone, another bartender replacing you. He immediately felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. He went back home, asking his assistant to get more information about you.

It was then the beautiful chapter of you and him bloomed. When he had asked you to be his sugarbaby, after a few weeks of sitting at the bar and getting to know you better, you were genuinely surprised.

You were never opposed to the idea of being someone’s sugarbaby, but from someone like Kim Taehyung? That was something you’d never expect.

Kim Taehyung. Multi-millionaire living in the state of Korea. He was young, Greek god looks and a voice that could literally send you chills down your neck. In a good way of course. The way he stood, the way he stared at you made you feel the butterflies fluttering around your belly. It came as a surprise to you, he was kind, approachable and caring. Over the weeks of getting to know him from serving him at your bar, he would always remember to ask about your day, if you had eaten, and made sure you had a safe trip home.

When he approached you with the idea of being his sugarbaby, it took a few days to make a decision. Being his meant a possibility of having your identity talked about in the media like the next hot tea. But it wasn’t a bad idea. You were desperately trying to survive of two part-time jobs and having to pay for your apartment rentals and the medical fees of your sick grandmother.

In conclusion, your decision was something you would never regret.

In the beginning, it was definitely abit awkward, considering the fact that you were a naturally conservative person who wasn’t used to someone buying branded items for you or spending that much money either.

But Taehyung made sure you were comfortable with it and you grew used to seeing branded goods being sent up to your new luxury apartment, as well as a new car. It was never-ending, Taehyung spoiled you like you were his princess.

The two of you had grown extremely close, considering you guys spent much more time in his penthouse. Every night or even day if he ever had a break, was a new sex adventure in a different corner of the house. Sofa? Kitchen table? Windows? Every single place.

He was a literal greek god. Chiseled abs, toned muscular arms that held you firmly as he thrusted into you. His moans were like sounds made by an angel and the way he fucked you, made you even more happy that you accepted his offer.

Taehyung would be lying if he said that he hadn’t gotten used to your presence. Immense happiness would fill his chest with a warm feeling whenever he awoke to the sight of your beautiful face, figure curled and snuggled into his chest. He would take the time to enjoy the sunrise if he had woken up early, hand brushing softly through your hair and leaving light feathery kisses on your face and neck.

It was the best feeling in the entire world, watching as the sky turned into a canvas that was painted with a variety of warm colours. It was a sight to behold. But it was nothing compared to you.

Memories of the night before, where the two of you just cuddled in the bed, his cock stuffed into your warm pussy, sharing stories about your day before falling into deep sleep soon after. Cock warming would have to be one of his favorite cuddle positions.

His heartbeat slowed to a comfortable pace. He felt at peace with you in his arms, as he looked out into the windows.

Taehyung couldn’t live without you.

It was a scary thought, given the fact that he never would’ve imagined falling in love with you over the year you guys spent together as Sugardaddy and sugarbaby.

But he got over it, you were worth it. Even with your hair in a mess, and a small drool dripping from your face, you were still the most gorgeous woman he had ever met. Not only that, you had the kindest of heart, always checking up on him, buying him good health products with your own money and even preparing  home cooked meals for him.

Taehyung glanced down at you, a big smile gracing his face. He was staring at his sweetheart. The only person he could love with all his heart for the rest of his life.

Taehyung could only hope that you felt the same way as he did, even if you didn’t, he would’ve chased after you until you told him to stop.

He loved you more than anything.

and he couldn’t lose you.

He placed his shoes neatly, knowing how much you hated when he threw them without any care in the world.

“Babe?” he called out for you from the kitchen as he made a beeline for the cold, refreshing water in the fridge. As he turned around, he saw you cuddled up with a blanket on the sofa, a book loosely hanging from your hand while you slept in Taehyung’s hoodie.

Taehyung’s heart swelled, knowing that you had stayed up to wait for him. he sat on the sofa beside you, brushing your hair and leaving kisses on your face before you woke up.

“Tae? wha-what’s the time?” you asked groggily, which Taehyung found to be extremely adorable.

“Come on Honey, let’s get your sweet ass into bed. It’s one am” You had no energy to respond, only managing a small nod before you were lifted into Taehyung’s hard chest. His familiar smell making you snuggled closer into the crook of his neck.

Taehyung gently placed you on the bed, covering you with the comforter before taking a quick shower and joining you in bed.

He lifted the duvets before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You eyes were closing by the second. Taehyung gave you a kiss, gentle and sweet, taking his time to savor his favorite moment of the day.

“I love you so much” he mustered up when your eyes closed fully. Taehyung stared at you before kissing your forehead and taking a whiff of your shampoo that he absolutely adored. “i hope you’ll say yes baby” he mumbled, before joining you in dreamland almost immediately

You awoke to the sunlight peeking through the windows and the heavenly smell of pancakes. Stretching out a yawn and sitting up, you smiled, thinking of how perfect everything was. Although you knew it wasn’t going to be like this forever, at that moment, it seemed like happiness would be eternity.

With that you cuddled back into the blankets only to be dragged by taehyung as he chuckles at you.

“Babe wake up, i made pancakes” he whispered to you, carrying you and placing you on his lap like a baby. Taehyung placed a kiss on your lips before smiling cutely at you.

You shook your head and pouted cutely, knowing full well he would give in and feed you in bed. Taehyung groaned before pushing you playfully, heading towards the door while you laughed.

You quickly washed up and as you were coming out of the fancy bathroom, your jaws dropped at the scene in front of you, your eyes welling with tears.

Presents from different expensive brands, shoes, bags, flowers and balloons. A pack of your favorite candy, Hershey kisses on the bed and he held a plate of pancakes while waiting for you in bed.

“Tae...what’s all this?” your voice almost broke as you quickly strolled to his side. He set the pancakes on the bedside table and quickly pulled you to sit on his lap. His face had a slight red hue as he nuzzled into your neck nervously. “i er” Taehyung mumbled before take a deep breathe, turning your face towards him.

“Y/n L/n, you genuinely complete my life” he chuckled, booping you on the nose. “Baby, you’re the one i want to see whenever i wake up in the morning, the one i want to greet whenever i reach home. I want to do things just to make you happy and see your beautiful smile.” As he said that, you smiled widely.

“I know this wasn’t supposed to develop into a deep relationship but i can’t help it. You’ve made me fall, so deep in love with you sweetheart” He whispered, holding your chin and placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Be my girlfriend, move in with me. We can write a new chapter. I just want everyone to know that you’re mine, as much as i’m yours, officially” The tears you were holding in, finally slid down your cheeks as you nodded frantically and turning to hug him as tight as you could.

Taehyung wiped away your tears, smiling as he was trapped from beneath you. Unconsciously, you grinded softly on his manhood, feeling his rod perk even though he had already taken a cold bathe to calm himself down.

His moans motivated you as you sat upright, grinding harder onto his clothed manhood. His large hands radiating heat as he rubbed your hips from the sides before grabbing the ends of his t-shirt that you were wearing and pulled it over your shoulders and head.

“So beautiful, my angel”

His actions left you completely bare except for your panties that barely covered your pussy lips. Taehyung captured your lips in a hurry, but it expressed the passion and heat he was feeling.

His experienced hands maneuvered its way to your nipples, massaging them and he broke away from your kiss to suck on one of them. You unconsciously pushed him closer to your breasts, the immense pleasure overtaking you.

“T-tae please”

“Tell Daddy what you want hmm” he hummed, his lips leaving your breasts and instead sucking onto your neck like you were his next snack.

You were breathless, your pulse racing, you damn well feel the wetness pooling in your panties beneath you.

“w-want your dick please” you almost screamed out as his fingers pulled your panties aside and inserted three fingers in one go.

“So wet for me already baby? Bet i could slide my cock right inside of you easily. But first” Taehyung whispered. “Daddy’s going to enjoy himself”

he reached towards the bedside table, grabbing the choco syrup bottle that he left, and squirting it all over your chest and thighs.

Taehyung continued to finger you as he licked the syrup off your body. Your spine arched to meet his tongue.

“Moan out my name baby” Taehyung demanded, his thumb rubbing on your core, edging on your orgasm.

His fingers and tongue wonders for you and soon your toes were curling and your eyes were rolled back, screaming as you came on Taehyung’s fingers.

Taehyung groaned as he slid his fingers out of you and licked your juice, humming as he did so. “Sweeter than syrup” he smirked.

You were breathless, chest heaving up and down. Taehyung took out his dick from the sweatpants he were wearing. You licked your lips as the delicious sight of his erect cock made you even wet than before.

Taehyung slid down your soaked panties slowly, before pressing his face towards your wet cunt and taking a swift lick.

“you’re so damn delicious babygirl” licking his lips as he aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy, prepping your already wet pussy with his precum

“P-please tae, put it in me” Taehyung smirked

“What’s my name babygirl” Taehyung demanded

“T-taehyung” you whimpered out, feeling his head sliding in and out quickly.

“No baby, what’s my name” He asked again

“D-daddy please” screaming as he entered with one big thrust

Taehyung’s hands held your hips as thrusted harder and harder. You moaned with each thrust as you felt his big cock stretching you out. “You look so sexy, beneath me, taking my cock like the good girl you are” Taehyung breathed out.

He watched your breasts bounce as he thrusted harder into you, watching your face contort into full pleasure as he hit your g-spot.

“Right there d-daddy, right there” you screamed, ready to release.

Taehyung groaned as he changed his angle, sliding into you deeper and harder. “I’m coming babygirl, cum with daddy”

“Give me your milk daddy please, use me, cum in me. I’m on the pill, please i need your cum” You cried out, Taehyung moaned at your dirty talk, loving how it sounded coming out of you.

After a few more thrusts, you came first, milking his cock and after helping ride out your high, Taehyung came afterwards, filling you with his hot cum, thick spurts releasing in you. Your chest heaved up and down, as Taehyung collapsed tiredly onto you, his face nestled in your soft breasts.

He pulled the blanket over the two of you, resting on his forearms to stare lovingly at you. Taehyung smiled softly, loving the after-sex glow and the soft sunlight that made you look more like an angel. You smiled tiredly at him, brushing away his bangs and gently rubbing his cheeks. Your smile widening as you felt him nuzzle into your soft touch.

“i love you so much Kim Taehyung, and i’ll be so happy to be your girlfriend” you whispered Taehyung grinned before standing up and carrying you princess style to the bathroom. 

“I love you as much as i loved the breakfast session i just had” he grinned mischievously 

Please leave some feedback!

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[pompomegranate]

curiosity

fandom | nanatsu no taizai

pairing | ban x reader

word count | 2.6k

warnings | 18+. smut. dirty talk. denial. minors dni.

a/n | so there isn't a lot of rhyme or reason to this i just wanted to imagine the possibility of ban's thot days pre-elaine :/ i just know that [REDACTED] is big and i wanted to write about it <3 this isn't heavily proofread and i haven't written an "x reader" fic before so be gentle pls (also kudos are appreciated)!!

read on ao3

You were curious. Maybe a bit too curious.

You’d heard the infamous Bandit Ban was back in town after a successful quest – no one really knew when he was leaving and when he was coming back.

He was like a stray cat in that way. All roaming, no settling, sitting down just long enough to get fed and take a nap before he was off again.

And as you eye him across the parlor, arms stretching behind his head, legs splaying out lazily, he looks cat-like too.

All sleek limbs and a nonchalant look, like he’d rather be anywhere else.

A couple drinks later, the cat-like look dissolves into one of a milk-drunk one, all blushing cheeks and a relaxed stance.

But his eyes… his eyes are the same. Bright and calculated and precise.

And cat-like.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize he’s staring right through you.

And you’re curious. So goddamn curious.

His lips upturn into a smirk, one that has your thighs clenching, and he knows this. He can tell exactly what you’re thinking.

You turn back to your drink and take a sip, trying not to crack under his lazer sharp gaze.

When you look back… he’s tipping back his mug, no doubt lapping up the last drops of ale.

He slams the mug down with a bit too much force, startling the bartender, who quickly tops him up.

Ban’s tongue darts out to lap up the foam clinging to his lips, getting it all in one firm swipe.

You can’t help but wonder just how long it is as it stretches around his mouth.

He knows you’re staring now, but you can’t seem to think about anything but the lazy grin spreading across lips long enough to care that he’s found you out.

He breaks first, turning to speak to the bartender.

You take your chance to stand up and head for the door, heart racing like never before. You saw Bandit Ban. You stared at him and he caught you and… you weren’t scared.

He’d been painted out to be this horrifically scary guy with a ruthless attitude and a murderous stare, but he wasn’t any of that.

He was gorgeous – oozing with sex appeal. With confidence. Like there was no doubt in the world that he could bag any person in every room.

You make it outside and the air is cool on your cheeks, warm from the ale you’ve been sipping on. Or maybe it was Ban – you couldn’t tell.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a shitty bar like this?” A voice calls from behind you – above you.

You turn, expecting to hurl an insult at a drunken idiot, but instead are met with him. All six – seven? – feet of him.

You barely stifle your gasp of surprise as you crane your neck up to look at him.

He’s leaning against the railing, thigh perched on it, arms crossed in a laid back gesture.

His face twists into a grin the second your eyes meet his.

“I was just leaving,” you blurt, already blowing it.

“Oh, were you? Assumed you were stickin’ around,” he teases, quirking a brow.

You realize that you left the bar with a half full mug.

“Stealing’s punishable by law, ya know,” Ban says, leaning forward to tower over you.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean to – I promise –” you stutter, holding the mug out to him apologetically.

“Like I’d take the word of a stranger,” he laughs, snatching the mug from your hands and tipping it back.

You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs with effort, stray droplets of ale streaking out the corners of his mouth. He quickly catches them with his tongue, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, sighing with relief.

“Best fuckin’ ale I’ve ever tasted.”

You nod, chewing your lip. “I’ve never had anything like it.”

“Once you’ve got a taste –” he says, leaning forward again, crowding your space, his face getting closer and closer, “– You’ll never be satisfied again.”

You find yourself struggling to stand upright. Is he still talking about ale?

“Let’s cut to the chase, stranger. I saw you starin’ at me back in there. You want me or not?” The lazy smirk appears again, his cheeks flushed from drinking.

He’s not even trying and he’s got you seriously considering sprinting towards his bedroom.

You aren’t able to form words. He’s so… forward. And enticing. God, he’s so fucking enticing.

Your hands are trembling, so you clasp them in front of you. He takes note of this, his expression faltering just a bit.

You’re not scared of him by any means. He just makes you nervous.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he murmurs, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck almost… awkwardly? “You gonna get home okay? S’almost dark out.”

“Yes,” you say, finally, mustering up the courage to answer.

He looks confused, but then it dawns on him after he realizes what it took for you to accept his offer.

“My place is right around the corner. C’mon,” he says, and then his hand is hovering over the small of your back and you’re heading to Ban’s place like it’s any other week and not the wildest thing that’s ever happened to you.

His room is cozy, but bare, not many remnants of who he is or what he enjoys decorating the room (besides the empty alcohol jugs neatly lining the top of the beat up wardrobe).

His mattress is in the corner of the room, blanket and pillow strewn about messily.

“I’d say sorry for not making the bed but we’re just gonna ruin it anyways,” he laughs, kicking his shoes off, urging you to do the same.

And then he closes the gap between you.

He’s slipping his arms around you, one hand curling around your waist and the other hand cupping your chin, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss.

And you oblige, moving your lips in tandem with his, sighing as his tongue gently begs for your lips to part.

The kiss is growing heated, so you take the opportunity to let your hands roam, stroking down the front of his shirt, feeling the hard ridges underneath.

He groans into your mouth as you run your hands towards his waistline, catching your lip between his teeth hungrily.

You slip your hand into his pants, palming him gently.

Growling, he runs his hands all over you, grabbing and kneading every inch of skin he can get his hands on.

You continue to work him, sighing when his lips are on your neck, suckling at the tender skin there, his sharp teeth grazing your skin.

“Ban,” you breathe as he slips your dress over your head leaving you nearly naked, your underwear the only thing clothing you.

He grabs you underneath your ass and flings you over your shoulder, chuckling at the way you gasp in surprise.

“Put me down!”

“Alright,” he says, and tosses you unceremoniously onto the bed.

And then you realize you’re nearly bare, on your back, in Bandit Ban’s home (in his bed), completely at his mercy.

He seems to know this, and he’s absolutely reveling in this power.

He grins down at you, eyeing every peak and curve on your body. He reaches back to tear his shirt off, and then his pants, not even stopping to give you a show.

But honestly? It doesn’t even matter, because when he’s done, he’s breathtaking.

Ban’s just a mile of solid, marbled muscle and sex appeal and he knows it.

He crawls towards you, settling in between your thighs. You watch as he hooks a thumb into your underwear and pulls it to the side before sitting back to admire you.

“Such a pretty, pretty pussy. Can’t wait to make a mess of you,” he winks, grinning, leaning in to press an open mouthed kiss on your folds, just sloppy enough that you can’t help but relax your hips even more, opening for him.

He licks a long, firm swipe all the way from the bottom to the top, the tip of it never leaving you. He swirls the tip of his tongue against your clit, the short strokes ripping an involuntary moan from you.

You’re sighing his name and a string of expletives, and it only encourages him to do exactly what he’s doing at an even more relentless pace, his hand splaying on your inner thigh to keep you tightly firmly in place.

He’s not letting you go anywhere – you can’t curl into yourself or bend away as he sucks your clit into his mouth and slowly inches a finger from his free hand into you.

Your hands fist the blanket when he begins to pump his finger, adding another one just as slowly, a complete contrast to the speed of his mouth.

You begin to twitch, feeling yourself climbing closer and closer to your release and you try to clench your thighs but you feel his hand shift up your thighs. He lays his forearm across your lower stomach, anchoring you in place.

He pulls back just for a minute to smirk at you, continuing to work his hand.

“Oh, nuh-uh, you’re not going anywhere, baby,” he all but purrs, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit, flashing a grin at you when you jolt at his touch.

“Lemme hear you,” he says, picking up speed, his fingers curling inside of you.

“Please, Ban – oh, fuck –” Your hips are bucking to keep up with his movements now, and you feel yourself pulsing around him and you’re so close and –

He stops his movements, pulling his hand away.

You make a frustrated sound, one that amuses the hell out of him. He just laughs, kissing your inner thigh and tugging your underwear the rest of the way down, flinging it across the room.

“Quit your whining, sweetheart. I promise it’s better the longer I make you wait,” he says, standing, beginning to lazily pump himself in front of you and you can’t help but watch.

You knew before meeting the infamous Ban that he was a skyscraper with a chiseled build, and assumed he had the cock to match – but seeing it in person was a different story.

“You like what you see?” He says under his breath, rolling his hand around his tip.

You nod, completely at a loss for words.

“C’mere,” he says, leaning down to kiss you and he smiles when he feels your hand instinctively reach for his shaft. “Eager, are we?”

“How do you want it? I’m lettin’ you pick the speed of this ride, babe,” he murmurs against your ear, hand running through your hair.

“If you’re not sure you can always take me for a test drive,” he chuckles, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth.

You nod furiously, and before you know it he’s flipped you and you’re on top, straddling him, just the slightest bit of friction, just enough to make your breath hitch.

He grips your hips, thumb settling into the crease where they meet your thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

“Spit for me,” he says, holding a hand under your mouth. When you do, he reaches between the two of you, pumping himself with that hand, lazily swiping what’s left over your lips.

Ban watches your face (really watches your lips) as he presses into you, and you’re already sinking your teeth into your bottom lip with the first inch and he’s absolutely eating it up.

His hands resume his place at your hips, ever so gently training you farther down, letting you adjust to each inch of him.

“Shit…” He says, watching your face contort. “You feel so fucking good.”

He bottoms out inside of you, and you can’t help but dig your nails into his chest where you’ve been resting your palms to anchor yourself.

You begin to move slowly, agonizingly, and he’s already got you clenching your thighs, but the second he bucks his own hips, you’re a goner.

You roll your hips in time with his own, the pinch of his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips a welcome sensation.

Your moans fill the room, Ban’s pants just as loud, his eyes trained on your face like your own pleasure was enough to get him off.

“Faster,” you mutter, breathless, barely able to get a command out.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, bending his knees so he can pump up into you.

You all but go limp at the new pace, unable to help yourself from buckling, leaning forward until your chest was pressed against his.

He cranes his neck so he can speak directly into your ear, broken praises scattered between gasps. “You’re so – fucking good for me… You’re taking me – so well.”

You groan in response at his filthy mouth, still mumbling words of encouragement as he fucks up into you, his pace relentless and so good.

You take this as a sign to lean back and regain some control, palms flat against his front as you grind your hips as fast as you can manage, revelling in the way his eyes roll back and he grips your hips tighter, tighter –

He slows his own pace, letting you set it, the delicious, triumphant feeling of making him moan beneath you egging you on to move faster.

The confidence and looseness you felt from the mug of ale is long gone, replaced with Ban’s loud groans – you feel like you could conquer the world.

Ban is a writhing mess underneath you, brow slick with sweat, mouth forming around the most foul words (cushioned with praise, of course).

“Fuck – fuck – slow down, I’m gonna –” He takes a hand away from your thigh and rubs firm circles on your clit, trying to catch you up to him.

“Oh my god, yes –” your words come out garbled as you ride his cock and his fingers.

He sits up slowly, turning so his legs are planted on the ground, hand never leaving your clit.

When his other hand finally leaves your hips, he’s grabbing your tit and capturing your nipple between his teeth, suckling until it stings.

That sends you over the edge – your hips stutter just as his movements become erratic, and you can’t help but lean forward to kiss him deeply, passionately until you both ride it out.

He flops back onto the bed, laughing when you yelp at the unexpected fall. You roll off on him but stay snuggled against him.

He speaks first.

“Fuck, that was good.”

You giggle, covering your face with your hands. “Says you. You were incredible.”

He shrugs, standing to stretch.

“Ya know, I wouldn’t mind taking you for a spin a couple of times,” he jokes, retrieving his shirt from the floor.

“I gotta head out to do some things. You gonna head out?”

You bite your lip, a little upset that it was over so quickly. Yeah, you were satiated but… was one time enough?

You don’t answer, and he doesn’t say anything more until he’s fully clothed, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to go just yet, stranger. No rush. I wouldn’t mind another round after I get back,” he winks, grabbing the handle of the door.

You nod furiously, grabbing the nearest pillow to cover your body as he flings the door open.

“See ya soon for round two,” he says, giving a single wave before shutting the door.

You fall back against the covers again, your eyes heavy from being completely spent. The haze of sleep quickly overtakes you, and thoughts of Ban swirl around your mind until your breathing evens out.

[hypnomicimagines]

20 with kuko please:D!(gn preferably)

Harai Kuko: 

You’d never seen Kuko look at you like this.

There was this burning rage behind them, completely unprompted by anything you had done. He couldn’t even give you a direct reason for the hatred spewing from his mouth, the anger he was directing at you over imagined scenarios. Kuko was an honest boyfriend, he would never start a fight just for the sake of it which left your mind reeling even more. How had you not seen this coming?

“Kuko…!” You reached out to touch his shoulder but are met with a heated glare, the monk slapping your hand away from him before you could make contact. You looked at him wide-eyed, thinking the momentary regret you see flash in his eyes as just an illusion, something you wanted to see. You held your hand to your chest as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, wishing more than anything that you could hurt him in the same way he had hurt you.

But he’d already said he didn’t care about you, about your feelings, that it was over.

There was nothing left for you to say to him.

You remember sobbing when you got home that night, hastily deleting the pictures you had of him in your phone, trying to wipe all memories you had of him. Kuko had been such a positive pillar in your life, you had grown alongside him for so long, you had thought you really knew him inside and out yet this hit you like a bullet. It happened so quick yet the pain of his words still lingered, you couldn’t help but think he wasn’t acting like his usual self. You no longer had the strength to question it though, too afraid of facing his wrath again; Kuko really was a scary person when you were on the other side of his anger.

It’s been years and yet you still think of him.

You tried to rationalize that it was just because he was your first love, of course you missed what you had with him because it had been intense. Being with him was unlike any romantic encounter you had, including the relationships you attempted to get into as a fresh-faced adult. You knew you were still young but there was the lingering fear that no one would ever make you feel the way he did, that you were missing an important detail and that blocking his number had been the wrong thing to do. But you had protected your heart in the only way you knew how, trying to look toward the future rather than back at what once was.

Kuko had been the one to give you that advice…

You were happy to be starting your new job at Amaguni Law Offices, having heard great things about your boss. You were hired as an aide to the secretary but you were hoping to directly assist with cases one day, not knowing if law was exactly the right career but wanting to see change in action. You were having a relatively good day, you found you were quite good at speaking to distressed clients and scheduling their appointments was a breeze once you understood how the computer system worked. The secretary seemed relieved to have you with her as she said work tended to be fast-paced and overwhelming with just her, it left you feeling good, like you had a real purpose.

Everything was good until you had to see his face again.

You’re hidden behind the computer and don’t look up at first until you hear the sounds of footsteps walking past you, having been expressly told to not let anyone interrupt the meeting your boss was having. You jumped as quick as you could, you had been making a good impression all day and you weren’t about to let some teenage punks ruin that for you. You reached out for the shorter one, hurriedly asking him if he had an appointment before you’re stopped in your tracks.

When Kuko’s eyes met yours it felt like the world had stopped, the same way it had when he had stomped on your heart. Your mouth went dry and the expression on his face was completely unreadable but you had at least gotten him to stop walking. The taller of the two, a boy you didn’t know as it certainly wasn’t Ichiro, looked at the two of you with confused eyes. Your heart was beating rapidly and it felt like no air was reaching your lungs, you knew you couldn’t stay in the same room as him much longer. Maybe if you had been prepared to see him you could’ve taken this but this was the most unwanted surprise you could ever have on the first day of work.

Hitoya walked out of his office to see why there were people lingering at his door, eyebrow raised when he sees the staring contest occurring between you and Kuko. He hadn’t looked away from you yet, it seemed he was still processing like you were but you bet he didn’t hurt like you did. He was the one who left you in the dust, after all.

“I have to go.” Your eyes flickered to Hitoya’s briefly before you made yourself scarce, gathering your belongings and leaving the law office as quickly as you could. You kept your head ducked down as you walked through the bustling city streets, hoping to get lost in the crowd, to just blend in among the people and disappear completely. You would have to give Hitoya a proper apology later and accept that potential firing at suddenly walking out on your job, but you couldn’t stay there a second longer.

Why did he have to look at you like that?

You’re exhausted and out of breath when you’re finally home, heading straight to your room without a second thought. Your head is spinning, heart still pounding, anxiety flaring up as you think about how you’ll have to grovel to Hitoya in hopes of keeping your job. But did you really want that if there was a chance of seeing Kuko again? You had avoided this problem for so long that when it came rearing it’s ugly head you were at a total loss of what to do, the pain unfortunately fresh.

‘He looked good,’ You thought miserably, ‘His hair looks better not slicked back. I bet he’s still causing problems for his dad… I wonder if he matured anymore.’

You wished you didn’t still have this odd fondness for Kuko, the lingering feelings of love. You couldn’t just hate him despite what he had said to you because there was still a part of your brain that felt total disbelief at the turn in behavior he showed. He had always been respectful, a teasing brat for sure but he knew what was too far and what your boundaries were. Your Kuko would never…

You couldn’t think about him like that anymore.

He wasn’t your Kuko.

He was just Kuko.

Your phone began to ring and you were reluctant to pick it up, but seeing as it was your boss calling…

“…Could you come back? I think we should all talk.” Hitoya paused to allow you a chance to process his request, “I’d like for you to continue working here with me, you show promise and you’re quick but I won’t put you in an uncomfortable situation. I can recommend you to other lawyers in the area who have openings.”

“Okay.” Your voice is soft, so quiet he almost didn’t hear you, but he lets out a relieved sigh. “I’ll be on my way soon.”

You feel just as awkward as you did when Kuko first walked into the office but with Hitoya and their other friend here, it felt considerably less awkward. It’s not to say you didn’t still feel like curling up into a ball but your former boyfriend wasn’t exactly being his normal loud self, something that left you both unsettled yet entirely grateful. You don’t know if you could take the usual Kuko energy right now but it seemed like your personal shields were getting ready to leave the room to give you both a chance to talk it out.

“If you have a question then ask it.” Kuko’s gaze was steady as he looked you square in the eye, something that pissed you off just as much as the fact that he was the one to start this conversation. You had thought of countless things you wanted to say to him over the years, that you hated him too, that you didn’t deserve to be talked to or yelled at like he had, that you deserved an explanation, that you missed him.

“Why did you break up with me?” There’s hesitation in your voice, as if your brain didn’t think about the consequences of learning the answer to this question before you had posed it.

“I…don’t know.” Kuko still seemed calm but you could hear the hints of frustration in his voice, “I wanted to come see you. To talk about what happened but I couldn’t… I didn’t have an explanation for what happened. Everything I said to you…”

“You said you didn’t have feelings for me! You said you hated me and my face and that you never wanted to see me again!”

“I know what I said, damn it!” Kuko sighed, crossing his arms. “All I can tell you is that I didn’t mean it. I did in the moment but after… Whenever I think about it, it’s just a blur. I didn’t want to bother you if I couldn’t come up with a proper explanation for my actions but I don’t think there is one.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I know it doesn’t! I didn’t want to bother you without being able to offer a proper apology which would require knowing why the hell I did what I did!”

“So why are you apologizing now?”

“…Because I saw you again. At any moment life can present you a crossroads, a chance to lead you closer to your personal truth or further away from it.”

“I’m glad you still talk in tongues but I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

“I’m not the same person I was back then, and I don’t expect your forgiveness. I’ve never forgotten what I’ve said to you, I could see how much it hurt you and I wanted to stop but there was this feeling inside of me… this burning rage that wanted to be taken out on anyone close. You’re not the only person I lost that day.”  

He seemed sadder now, vision clouded by past regrets, but the look is quickly wiped from his face replaced by a more confident smirk. It was the old Kuko you knew and loved, the troublemaker who had a good heart even if he was a bit brash. You could see that he truly had grown over the years, likely having much more room to do so but as a monk there was always growth to be had. To truly help people he would have to experience as many things as he could, truly understand people, so you could see how what happened to him was especially annoying from his perspective.

“I don’t. I don’t forgive you but I’m really tired of being so mad at you. I know all about you and the rap thing and Mr. Amaguni being part of your team so I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

Kuko didn’t want that, he didn’t want you to stay out of his way but he knew he had no right to request anything else. He simply nodded his head in agreement, wishing he was the type of man who could speak up for what he wants rather than watching the person he loved walk away from him once more.

[muertawrites]

The Dark of the Moon (Zuko x Reader)

Summary: Late night insomnia turns into a conversation about love, and Zuko makes an interesting discovery about his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2,100

Author’s Note: You can thank Avatar being on Netflix and rekindling my childhood obsession for this one. I wrote this mostly as a dialogue / pacing exercise, but it’s also a bit therapeutic since I can actually relate to Zuko more than I realized or could have ever foreseen watching this show as a ten year old. Enjoy a little emotional romantic fantasy on behalf of a preteen crush and all the toxic friends I’ve ever had. ✌

~ Muerta

Zuko usually slept with you. It started one late night during a mutual bout of insomnia, in which you ran into him as you both wandered the halls of the Western Air Temple. You hardly knew him, but he sat with you and talked about everything that night - anything that wasn’t related to the war or either of your pasts that had been torn apart by it. He surprised you with his dry, even-toned sense of humor, as well as with his intelligence in not only combat but literature and philosophy as well; being a healer and a fortune teller by trade, you found a lot to talk about with him.

As the nights awake became more common, you and Zuko spent more of them together; sometimes you’d wait until you happened upon him in the halls, others one of you would designate a place to meet. Eventually, one of you would go directly to the other’s room and you’d sit, sharing whatever light or heavy thoughts happened to plague your minds. You learned a lot about him in those nights, and grew to feel proud of how far he’d come in such a short time - you often helped others, those much older than yourselves, over months to scale the internal struggles he had, and he’d managed to do so on his own. The more you gave to him, the more he gave back, and it soon became commonplace to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing as he lay in his sleeping bag on the other end of your room. 

And that’s exactly what woke you up - the strange, still energy of your bedroom that indicated his resting place was empty. You rolled over, unable to spy his silhouette under the moonlit windowsill, and you rose, your feet carrying you to where you were certain he would be. 

It was a gorgeous night, with a gentle breeze ruffling the crisp air. You found Zuko in the courtyard, gazing out over the fog veiled landscape under the swell of the full moon. Without a word, you sat beside him, watching the clouds roll by like ships on a silent ocean. His chest churned in turmoil, so intensely you could feel it in your own.

“Apparently, I can’t sleep without you anymore,” you said. “How selfish of you to have problems that keep you up at night.” 

Zuko huffed out a soft chuckle, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift. He leaned back onto his palms, craning his neck backward and allowing the wind to tousle his ash-black hair. 

“You didn’t need to come out here,” he told you gently. “It’s not your job to help me fix myself.” 

“It never has been,” you replied. “I’ve never fixed anyone. All I ever do is listen and recite a few proverbs; everyone comes to their own conclusions in the end.” 

“That’s not true,” Zuko retorted. “I’ve seen you heal. You can do things not even Katara can do, just with whatever happens to be growing nearby. It’s incredible.” 

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. 

“Physical healing and emotional healing are two super different things,” you told him. “Emotional wounds can only really be healed by the people who have them. I mean, unless you want me to crack open your chest and poke around at your heart for a little while.” 

Zuko chuckled again, the tenseness of his muscles easing up just slightly. He opened his palm and spawned a softly glowing flame, both of you watching it flicker in the cool night air. 

“I wish I’d been born a water bender,” he mused. “Something that would do good for others. All fire does is destroy.” 

You were silent for a moment, watching the thoughts swirl, tormented, behind his eyes. You thought of all the times you’d seen him smile, how his happiness made his handsome features all the more radiant and caused your stomach to bubble with joy. The memory shot a spike through your chest.  

“... You know, we only ever see one part of the moon,” you commented, breaking the quiet. “Everything behind that - the dark side - we don’t really consider, even though it’s always there and is as much a part of the moon as the side that’s in front of us.” 

Zuko smirked at you, distinguishing the flame in his hand. 

“Reciting a proverb at me?” he teased. 

You grinned. 

“This one’s more like a metaphor,” you admitted cheekily. “That tea I make, the one that tastes awful but makes pain completely disappear?” 

Zuko nodded. 

“I need fire to make it,” you continued. “I have to roast the ingredients over an open flame before boiling them. Without fire, I couldn’t do most of my healing; it would be too painful without the tea to help.” 

Zuko said nothing, but you could sense your words sinking into the cracks in his troubled thinking. 

“Fire is heat and light,” you added. “It’s just as important to life as water or earth or air. Every element is capable of destruction or creation - there isn’t a single one that’s inherently good or bad. The person that controls them is the only one who determines that.” 

There was another long pause, in which you busied yourself noting the different wild plants growing between the stones that paved the courtyard. You listed the different medicines you could make with each, the process calming you. 

“I’ve done some pretty shitty things to people I care about in order to embrace my goodness,” Zuko finally spat. The bitterness in his tone stung you. You turned to him, and for a split second you caught a familiar, rageful glimmer in his eye; the sight made your own temper flare. 

“Zuko, don’t do that to yourself,” you said. “It wasn’t just your father who hurt you and you know that.” 

“I know,” he snapped, cutting off the end of your words. “I still care about her, though. I don’t even know if she really ever cared about me, but I still… I still miss her.” 

Your ribs seemed to cave in, crushing your heart and lungs. He’d told you about Mai many times, and all you ever saw was that the darkness in her drew out the darkness in him; it even hung over you, clouding out the comfort you felt with Zuko and replacing it with unease and doubt. You feared there was no place in his heart for you - not while Mai still remained in it, no matter how badly her memory made him bleed. 

“It’s hard,” you choked out. “I still miss some of the people who hurt me, too.” 

That was all you could manage to say. You pulled your knees to your chest, half-burying your face in the fabric of your night dress as you forced the tears welling in the corners of your eyes not to flow. 

This is what you get, you scolded yourself. This is what you get for feeling things for people you know could never feel the same about you. 

A sensation of warmth curling around your shoulders made you jolt. Instinctively, you inched away, glancing in Zuko’s direction as he retracted the arm that had draped around you. You expected him to look away, but he didn’t - his pale amber eyes instead locked with yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “You hold your head so high… I forget sometimes that you’re trying to heal, too.” 

His words caused your tears to spill, though you didn’t cry; your face remained stony, and no sobs shook you. Your tears fell as easily as water from a cliff’s edge, impeded by nothing but the will of gravity. 

“... The cards you lent me,” Zuko said after a pause, almost blurting the words. “I’ve been reading them, to help me let go of everything I left behind. I don’t think I’m doing it right.” 

A few weeks ago, you’d given him a deck of cards you used for fortune telling. Each card depicted a different object, element, or scene, and were laid out in combinations that gave insight into a person’s spiritual path. You liked them more than other forms of fortune telling, as it encouraged its readers to make their own assumptions and drive their own fates instead of having it simply told to them. You gave your deck to Zuko so he could reflect on something finite, instead of getting consumed by his own thoughts. It was exactly what you used them for, and you knew they would help.

“Why?” you asked softly. 

“I drew a card that didn’t make sense,” he told you. “I laid down the Tides, then the Crossed Blades, and then… I pulled the Badger Mole. The other two I understand - one is for movement and change, the other is for strength in allies, but I… can’t figure out what the Badger Mole is supposed to mean.” 

“Badger moles are strong, powerful,” you explained, speaking dispassionately from memory, “but they’re gentle. The card represents the duality of both. They mate for life, too, so it also represents love and companionship.” 

As you spoke, you felt a meteor crash between you and Zuko. His face fell, dumbfounded, as he looked at you, his eyes darting minutely back and forth as you watched the pieces mend together in his head. 

“What do you feel?” you whispered, part of you terrified of his answer.

“... I feel like I’m fighting the tide,” Zuko replied, his tone awestruck. “It’s pushing me to shore, but I keep trying to swim back out to sea.” 

The corners of your lips curled upwards slightly, your cheeks still sticky with tears. 

“It’s really scary, huh?” you said. “Loving another person.” 

“Yeah... especially when you’ve never known what it feels like before,” Zuko added softly. 

You reached out, tentatively resting your palm against his cheek. His hand rose to close over yours, the sensation trembling you to your core. 

“How many times have you pulled the Badger Mole?” you asked. 

“Every time,” Zuko breathed. “I’m so stupid for not realizing. You make me feel wild and calm all at once. I get this crushing feeling in my chest when I see you or even think of you, and I thought it was just fear or sadness. But… you don’t make me want to lash out like I used to, with my father and Azula and Mai… just the thought of you makes me want to be the best person I can be. Even though I know you already accept me for not being that person.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, somewhat defeatedly, your knees falling away from your chest and crossing in front of you. Your body was heavy, but your head felt light. 

“I love you, Zuko,” you murmured. “But I’m afraid.” 

Zuko wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead fell to rest against yours, his eyes closing as he steadied his erratic breathing. 

“If you’re scared, I’ll protect you,” he said quietly. “That’s what I think lovers are supposed to do.” 

The word made every organ in your body jump to your throat. Lovers. Your limbs felt weak, but your heart felt strong with Zuko holding you. 

Without thinking, you took his face in your hands and kissed him. It wasn’t hard and passionate like you expected, but firm, gentle, his lips pressing to yours like two palms grasped in an assuring embrace. He lay one of his large, able hands on the back of your neck, his thumb tenderly stroking your skin. 

When you finally broke apart, Zuko gazed at you with a soft, forlorn expression. His fingers reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I’m sorry I talk about her so much,” he said. “It must kill you.” 

You shook your head, a soft smile forming on your lips, still red from where Zuko had kissed them. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you told him. “I know some people from my past you’d happily drive a knife into.”

Zuko chuckled, the light, airy smile you saw when he was truly happy spreading to each of his cheeks. The spike that drove itself through your heart when you thought of it earlier was gone, replaced by the sweet warmth of a low flame on a cold night. With him, you were safe. 

“Let’s get some sleep,” Zuko suggested, taking your arm to help you stand. 

His hand slipped easily into yours, your fingers twining together. He leaned forward and kissed you again, his lips only grazing yours, causing your skin to buzz with the sensation. 

“... Do you think we’ll have to talk to Aang about this?” you asked as you walked back to your room. 

Zuko raised an eyebrow at you, confused. 

“He is your great-grandfather,” you elaborated with jest. “I should probably do the chivalrous thing and ask for his blessing or something.” 

Zuko laughed, nudging you with his shoulder so that you stumbled over your feet. You shoved him back, to which he took you by the waist and wrapped you tightly in his arms, kissing your cheek. 

“He probably won’t care,” he replied. “But my uncle will love you.”

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Unlikely friends: Part 3

You and Azula arrive at the fire nation and soon both her parents have something to say about your relationship

Part one here

Part two here

Your POV

The fire nation was certainly more fast-paced and complicated than your small earth kingdom town. The minute you arrived you were whisked away to the throne room to see the Firelord. Apparently any royalty arriving at the palace had to immediately pay their respects to the Firelord and so you and Azula bowed to Zuko who was obviously a little uncomfortable with the whole process As soon as the formalities were over Zuko rushed forwards “Azula I’m glad you’re back, our argument...”. “It’s fine Zuzu, I am no longer angry and I am sorry for my actions”. Zuko paused “you are?”. Azula nodded looking at you before fixing her eyes back on him “yes and I promise I will try controlling my temper so it doesn’t happen again”. Zuko paused “well i...thank you, i’m sorry for my part in it as well”. Azula nodded her head and Zuko just stared “erm...you are both free to go if you wish”. Azula nodded her head “thank you brother” and turned to you eagerly.

You were proud of Azula’s handling of the situation and could tell by Zuko’s reaction he too was shocked. As Azula led you to your room you smiled at her and she caught you “what’s that look for?”. “Nothing...just I like seeing you be functional and having healthy relationships”. Azula raised an eyebrow and you sighed “I like seeing you happy in other words”. “Ow...” Azula blushed and you laughed. “Well you make me happy” she offered awkwardly and you just laughed at how cute your girlfriend was. Azula blushed and pushed some large doors open. Your jaw dropped as you looked around the room, it was beautiful, extravagant and very clearly made for royalty. “Azula...is this your room? It can’t possibly be mine!”. Azula smiled “why do you like it?”. “It’s beautiful....but too beautiful for just a few nights”. “I disagree, you are my guest here and my girlfriend will only have the best” Azula said taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Plus it’s close to my room which will come in handy”. You blushed and Azula smiled dropping your hands. This was one of the things you loved about your relationship, one second Azula was the blushing mess and the next it was you...the power balance was so even it created a constant playful tension between the two of you. 

You were thinking of this as you admired everything in the room from the view out the window to the bedding (of course the fire nation had red silk sheets and you were in love) when Azula spoke. “I want to tell everyone” Azula said and you paused confused before you realised what she meant “about us?”. Azula nodded her head and you stood up straight, you knew the fire nation wasn’t too bad with this stuff but for a royal to publically go against a norm? “Are you sure?” you asked “you know I won’t be upset if you chose not to, don’t you?”. Azula nodded her head “I know but I want to, I want my mom and Zuko to know about us, I want everyone to and not just because I want to show off how lucky I am” she smirked “but because i’m ready. I meant what I said about making up for lost time y/n, I won’t spend a minute pretending not to be your girlfriend”. You blushed vividly and nodded “if it’s what you want them of course I love the idea, I want to show off too” you smiled taking Azula’s hand and she held her other to your cheek tenderly “then tonight, we walk into the party together and tell everyone publically”. You nodded your head “sounds like a plan”.

6 hours later

"Nervous?" you asked catching Azula peaking into the room and she jolted "no!". "Azula i won't be offended if you are" you smiled "i know coming out can be scary...trust me". Azula tensed but then took a deep breath "no it doesn't matter what they say, i’m happy with you and i don’t want to hide it especially after you agreed to come here with me". "You don’t owe me for that" you started but Azula cut you off "i know but i am proud you came with me...i’m proud you're dating me and i want to show it, to show how happy you make me....plus Ty lee and Mai already suspect it" Azula frowned "so i guess it’s just Zuko and mother who don’t know". "Well they say no time like the present?" you asked offering Azula your hand. Azula took it immediately "okay let's go"

The fire nation was still a bit iffy with same-sex couples but they were way better than the earth and water nations. You and Azula walked into the room and only received a handful of glances. You knew if you did this at home you'd have received a much worse reaction even with the princess beside you. Most nobels didn’t notice, the ones that did, double glanced and then looked away. You suspected Azula didn’t even notice, she was fixed on Zuko and Ursa who stood across the room. They hadn't noticed and you could tell Azula was contemplating marching up to them. Not wanting such a confrontational approach you looked around "let's go get a drink". Azula let you lead her away and you poured her a glass of a drink you knew she liked. Azula sipped it nervously and you smiled "nobodies set us on fire, that’s good?". Azula chuckled "they wouldn't dare, i have quite a reputation around here". You smiled "really i didn’t notice". Azula smiled at you adoringly when suddenly two people appeared. Ty lee’s expression told you she wanted to say a thousand things and also launch herself at you both but she was managing to restrain herself. "Hey so what’s new?" she asked in a very high pitched tone and Mai frowned. "What Ty lee means is we’re very happy for the two of you". "So happy!" Ty lee cried "Azula i know you always wrestled with this part of yourself and i’m so proud to see you confidently expressing it! You should be so proud and i’m so happy i could cry!". You looked at Azula who was watching Ty lee awkwardly. "Thanks" Azula said smiling slightly "i..really like y/n so it wasn’t that hard". "Okay now i am going to cry, excuse me” Ty lee announced and dashed for an exit while tears leaked down her face. "Ty lee" Mai called before she sighed shaking her head "i’ll go calm her down so she doesn’t make a scene but we are really really happy you're happy Azula, I mean it". You could tell Azula was both touched and shocked that the usually sarcastic stoic girl was being intimate and affectionate with her and you wondered if Mai and Azula ever had a moment like this in their years of friendship. Based on the tears in Azula’s eye and the look on Mai’s face they hadn’t. "Thank you Mai" Azula smiled and Mai returned the smile "no problem...now i should go find the drama queen, excuse me" and she followed Ty lee.

"Wow that was....really sweet" you commented and Azula nodded "it was wasn’t it?". You nodded "it took a lot for Mai to say that". "I never...i figured we'd never be friends again". "Well i guess Mai and Ty lee don’t feel that way" you smiled and Azula nodded "yeah....they're pretty great". You laughed when you caught sight of someone behind Azula. "Azula?" Ursa called and you saw Azula tense. You almost laughed as Azula grabbed your hand and spun to face her family all in one motion. "Yes" she asked defiantly and you looked to Zuko and Ursa. Zuko was staring at your hands bewildered but Ursa was only looking at her daughter's face. "I just wanted to say hello, you look beautiful tonight....you both do, y/n isn’t it?" she asked and you nodded smiling "yes, it’s nice to meet you". "You too" Ursa smiled warmly at you "Zuko’s told me about how much you've been there for each other and i want to thank you, i’m glad Azula has a...." Ursa hesitated "a person like you in her life". "You can call her my girlfriend" Azula said bravely and you smiled. "A girlfriend like you" Ursa corrected herself and you saw Azula smile. Ursa noticed Zuko still staring and nudged him. Zuko coughed looking up at you both "i had no idea you were....either of you!" he cried spinning to you "but i...of course i’m happy for you both and you look happy" he said to Azula "happier than i’ve ever seen you....at least i think it’s happiness, are you happy?". You saw awkwardness ran in the family. "I’m very happy" Azula said glancing at you and you blushed. "Well that’s all that matters" Zuko said and you smiled. Azula seemed lost for words so just nodded. "Anyway we will leave you to your evening but please join if you feel like it" Ursa smiled laying her hand on Azula’s arm "i’m really proud of the woman you’ve become Azula". "Thank you mother" Azula said shocked and Ursa smiled before walking away. Azula turned to you and you laughed "you okay?". Azula laughed in shock "i have no idea what just happened?". “I think we had a pretty good interaction with your family but how did you view it?”. Azula chuckled awkwardly “I.....It went so well! I didn’t think they’d be so accepting, for Zuko to say....and my mother’s never told me she’s proud of me” Azula’s voice broke and she looked down “it’s just a lot”. You smiled and took her hand “want to step outside and take a breather?”. Azula shook her head immediately “and hide you away? No way! This is already the best night I’ve ever had in the fire nation! We are not ending it early”. You grinned at Azula’s happiness and nodded “well if you’d like Ty lee and Mai are over there, we could go mingle?”. Azula nodded, she stood up straighter, set her shoulders back and grabbed your hand “let's go”. As you made your way over you saw Azula was still slightly nervous but that fell away the minute her friends saw her. “Azula!” Ty lee called “join us we were just talking about that teacher we had in 10th grade”. Azula laughed and slipped right into the conversation. You smiled watching her, happy to take a back seat, when Mai appeared by your side “so how are you finding the fire nation?”. You smiled at her clear attempt to make an effort with you and started chatting with the knife expert. A while later you locked eyes with Azula and both smiled seeing how comfortable the other was. Ursa and Zuko had come over and Azula was talking with her brother about a play while Ursa and Mai talked with you about your earth bending school. You were both comfortable and happy, the trip to the fire nation had been a resounding success.

7 months later

You and Azula both travelled to each other's nation often, pretty much weekly, and equally split the trips between the fire and earth nation. Your relationship continued to grow from strength to strength and all of Azula’s relationships improved. She was the closest she’d ever been to Mai and Ty lee, she and Zuko were getting on well and her mother....it was baby steps but Azula and Ursa were working out their issues constructively and becoming a proper mother and daughter. The only person Azula hadn’t made peace with was the person who’d had the greatest influence on her life, her father. But Ozai had decided it was time to see his daughter...

You arrived in the fire nation early and now used to the routine made your way to Azula’s room. You caught Azula on her way to you and jumped as you almost crashed into her. “Azula” you grinned and she smiled “y/n” and hugged you tightly. “I was just coming to greet you! I’m sorry i’m late” Azula cried and you smiled “no problem”. Azula nodded but you could see something was bothering her. “Azula are you okay?” you asked and she sighed “I have something to tell you” she sighed “it’s not good but please just let me explain”. You nodded “okay, i’m listening”. “Not here” Azula replied and led you to her room before firmly shutting the door. You watched her growing more anxious by the second until Azula eventually turned to face you. "My father, he's been asking to see me" Azula told you and you paused overcome with so many questions and feelings. You hated the man for everything he’d done and were sure nothing good could come from this."Why is he asking for you?" you asked and Azula shrugged. "Zuko’s not sure, my father just keeps saying he wants to speak with me and won’t tell Zuko what about". Ever since you’d been together Azula had lost all contact with her father and you weren’t sure if to take her clear interest as a cause for concern or not. "I want to see him" Azula told you and your stomach sank but you’d under-estimated your girlfriend. "i want to see him one last time and i want you to come with me". So much about that made you confused "last time?". Azula nodded "i have no more need of his approval so i do not wish to see him anymore but i do think i should tell him that so i can have closure". "And you want me to come with you?". Azula nodded her head "my father has a way of twisting my mind....if you're there i only have to look at you and i’ll remember why he’s incorrect, so will you come with me?". You threw your arms around Azula hugging her tightly "of course i’ll come with you! I’ll help in any way I can". Azula blushed but smiled and leant into your embrace “thanks y/n, you’re....i....”. You smiled and stroked Azula’s cheek “no words or thanks needed” and kissed her cheek softly “so when’s the meeting?”. “In 4 hours”. 

Later

You and Azula followed Zuko through the endless corridors past dozens of guards until finally, Zuko stopped. "His cell is the one at the very end" Zuko said gesturing to a set of doors and Azula nodded "thank you brother we'll manage from here". Zuko nodded at Azula’s dismissal "i’ll wait outside for you" and he left the corridor. You watched him go confused before you realised why Azula wanted him to leave. She slumped against the wall and breathed heavily "y/n i’m not sure if i can face him". You took her hands "Azula you are the strongest bravest smartest person i know, you can do this. We don’t have to stay long or even let him reply, we can go inside say what we rehearsed and then leave, in and out, then it will all be over". Azula nodded "okay" and squeezed your hand tightly before looking at you "let's go". Azula led the way. She pushed the door open entering first and held it open for you. You blinked eyes adjusting to the darkness and spotted Ozai on the floor in chains. "Ah so it's true, my daughter has a female play-thing". You glanced at Azula but she didn't even blink "i’m here because Zuko asked me to come but this is the last time i’ll ever be here" Azula started, directly quoting the speech she'd rehearsed with you hours before. "Ahh running errands for your brother now? She's changed you". "I don’t owe you anything, you mistreated me for years and enough is enough" Azula continued reciting the script. "I suppose at least she is rich and beautiful but really earth scum? You could've at least picked a woman of the fire nation to disgrace yourself with, is she worth it? Now you really won’t be on the throne, they'd never take a lesbian". Azula paused in her speech and you squeezed her hand. "Is she worth it?" Ozai repeated and Azula glared. Azula crumpled her script in her hand and her eyes glowed darkly. "Yes she is! I love y/n more than i’ve ever loved anyone! She is the best thing that ever happened to me, she saved my life and i don’t care if that gets me kicked out of the 4 nations i will always choose her over you, over the crown, over the firenation and don’t you forget it!" Azula cried "you have no power over me any more father and i came here to tell you face to face that you can’t control or hurt me anyone. You are finished" Azula said sharply. With a smile she strode from the room taking you with her. As soon as the door closed Azula fell against you "y/n was that....i’m so sorry what he said about you...". "Azula don't be silly that was amazing!" you cried and Azula blinked. "It was?". "Well i’m sorry, it must’ve been horrible having your father say all those homophobic things but the way you shot him down! You were intelligent, clear not to mention hot! You were confident and just so...you" you grinned and Azula blushed. Her heart was still hammering but she was growing calmer and the things she had said were dawning on her. "Did you...i suppose you heard everything i said?". You smiled knowing what part she meant, the confession Azula made about loving you, it was the first time you’d heard Azula say that and it had struck a chord with you too. "i did...did you mean it?" you asked timidly. Azula nodded "every word, you are the best thing that ever happened to me, you did save me". "I didn’t..." you said cutting her off but Azula shook her head "you saved me" she repeated "i would choose you before anything else because i do love you, i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything my whole life, you mean everything to me y/n". Azula stared at you anxiously as she told you that and you smiled. "You mean everything to me as well but i didn’t save you, you saved yourself and i love you so much for that, i love you too". Azula blushed and kissed you. The tense event and the revelation were too much and so she just kissed you to vent some of it. The kiss lasted a while and when it was over you panted as Azula stared at you. "You have no idea how hearing you say that makes me feel". "I’d say after that kiss i have a pretty good idea" you replied and Azula smirked. "Azula?" A voice called and you jumped to see Zuko had appeared from around the corner with lots of guards. Zuko jumped just as much to see you and Azula pressed up against the wall together and he frowned diverting his eyes. Azula stepped away from you and smirked "you can look up again zu zu". Zuko looked up hesitantly before he saw it was safe and met your eyes again. "What’s going on did you....". "I spoke to father he was hateful but i told him never to ask for me again and that i was done with him. He won’t bother either of us any more". Zuko nodded "i’m pleased to hear that". Silence settled and Azula shivered “let's get out of here, this place is depressing” and Zuko led the way outside. 

You smiled as the bright sunlight engulfed you and made Ozai and his words seem further away. You felt Azula take your hand and smiled glancing at her. “Thank you for coming with me” she smiled “I....you gave me the strength to face him, you make me stronger I’ve come to realise”. “Love will do that to you” you grinned in reply and Azula blushed looking down “apparently so”. “You’re adorable when you blush” you commented and Azula bumped against you with her shoulder “stop it” she whined embarrassed and you laughed loudly. Azula smiled at the sound of your laugh and you admired her smile and how genuine it was. How softly and full of love she looked at you and how happy you were together. Azula looked away first blushing but pulled you closer to her and you came willingly. Azula placed her arm around you and you smiled leaning into her. Something told you that your happiness with Azula was just the beginning of your very long lives together.

____

Ngl so kind of didn’t know how to finish it but we’ll end on a sunny walk through the fire nation! Writing about happy Azula makes me so happy, my girl just needs love and happiness 🥰

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 6

Prev

AO3

Jason walks into the hospital room, heart breaking at the sight. Adrien, a huge bandage covering what was left of his arm and part of his shoulder. And next to him… This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be there to make sure the kids didn’t get hurt. Instead, Ladybug- no, Marinette, he reminded himself. She had told him her name through sobs as he held her on the roof after they gave their statements to the police. Marinette blamed herself. He could see it in everything she did, the way she responded to people, her body language around Adrien and Jason. He knew she blamed herself. But she shouldn’t. She wasn’t the one who had been trained to fight villains like that. Villains willing to kill kids to get ahead. But Jason was trained. He was supposed to be prepared and know what to do. But now, Adrien would have to relearn how to do everything with just one arm. Sure, he could get a prosthetic, but that wouldn’t be for several weeks. And even if he chooses to get a prosthetic, he’d have to relearn everything. Again. And it was all because Jason couldn’t save him. He couldn’t save anyone. Jason turns to leave, not ready to talk to the boy who lost an arm because Jason wasn’t fast enough.

“Jay?” A soft voice from the bed calls, making Jason freeze. Whirling around, he rushes over to the bed, immediately looking the boy over to see if he’s okay. 

“Hey kiddo, how ya feeling? Are you- I’m so sorry.” Jason rambles, falling onto the spare chair next to Adrien’s bed. A chair that should’ve held a parent. If Gabriel wasn’t a piece of shit supervillain who cut off his own son’s arm and kept his wife’s corpse in a hidden basement. Yeah, that investigation must’ve sucked. 

“It’s weird.” He says, and Jason frowns at the tears filling the boy’s eyes. “My arm hurts, Jay. Really bad. But every time I try to hold it, or move it to a position that doesn’t hurt- it’s not there.” 

“Oh kid.” Jason clamps his mouth shut, determined to not let the kid hear his voice cracks, determined not to let the kid see him cry. What did he have to cry about? He’s the one that wasn’t good enough to protect these kids. Jason leans forward and gently wraps his arms around Adrien, letting the boy sob into his shoulder. Holding onto a sobbing Adrien, Jason’s able to see Marinette wake up and instantly leap into a fighting position. When she notices him, she relaxes slightly, until she sees the crying boy. Then her face morphs into pain and she backs up away from the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Mari?” Adrien says, pulling away from Jason and sniffling. 

“I’m so sorry Adrien. It’s, it’s all my fault.” She says, still keeping her distance. Jason sighs and stands, moving across the room in two large strides and wrapping her into a hug. She stiffens for a moment before basically collapsing in his arms. Jason just holds her and lets her cry, just as he let her on the roof two nights ago. After years of not being able to feel anything other than happy, Jason would support these kids and encourage them to feel. Even if it hurt. They deserved to feel. 

---

Sitting and talking to Adrien about anything and everything after school had become a daily occurrence for Marinette. Jason walking her from school to the hospital had also become a daily occurrence. So walking by herself was weird. Doable, because she was Ladybug and could walk across Paris alone, but still weird. Especially since Jason was so insistent on her being more careful now that Hawkmoth- Gabriel- was behind bars. Jay was convinced that that meant that the regular, run of the mill bad guys would come back out of the woodwork now that they didn’t have to deal with possible akumas. Regardless, that hadn’t happened yet and she could easily walk by herself. It was still weird though. Walking into the hospital, Marinette frowns at Jason who was pacing and rapidly arguing with someone on the phone in English. Quickly reminding herself that, no he wouldn’t be akumatized, and yes, he was allowed to have negative feelings, she moves so that she’s in his line of sight. Making eye contact with him, she raises an eyebrow as a silent question. He frowns, but doesn’t do anything else except nod towards Adrien’s room. Rolling her eyes in annoyance at his avoidance, Marinette lets herself into Adrien’s room, smiling softly at her friend. The first two days after the battle, she could barely look at him. She blamed herself completely and didn’t feel like she was worthy of being his friend anymore. Now, almost a week after the battle, she still blamed herself. But it was easier to look at him, easier to talk to him.  

“Hey kitty.” She says, walking over and sitting in the chair on the left side of his bed. 

“Hey bug. Jay still on the phone?” He asks, and that’s when she notices the tell-tale signs of worry on his face. 

“Yeah...how long has he been on the phone?” She asks, frowning at his wince. 

“Well, he tried to ignore the person the first three times they called. And then he finally answered, said ‘leave me alone’ and hung up. And then they called again, and that’s when the yelling and arguing started and he left the room. That was…” He trails off, looking towards the clock on the wall. “Almost two hours ago.” “Two hours? On the phone? You don’t think he’s in trouble, do you? I mean, I know he has a life back where he lives, and I’m sure his boss is probably getting frustrated with him. But-” Marinette stops herself, not wanting to say something selfish. She knew that Jason had a life outside of Paris. But he was the only grown up to care that Ladybug and Chat Noir were just kids, that they needed help. He was the one to make sure they weren’t spending too much time being heroes and not enough time sleeping and doing homework. He was their big brother, and she wasn’t ready to say bye yet. Even if they could still call him. It wasn’t the same.

---

Jason Todd was livid, and for the millionth time that week, thankful that Gabriel Agreste was rotting in a prison cell instead of manipulating people who were having a bad day. Cause this was not a good day. 

“B, I’m not sure what you want from me.” He finally huffs out, glancing towards Adrien’s shut door. 

“I just want to know why you haven’t returned. Dick informed me of the flooding your first day, and how things seemed to magically fix themselves. You told us that everything was taken care of, and then you stopped answering any questions about the situation. Seeing as there is apparently no immediate danger to anyone there, I think it’s time you returned home. You have responsibilities here, Jason. Your family is here.” Bruce says simply, and Jason has to bite his tongue from arguing. How was he supposed to tell Bruce about these kids who needed support that they weren’t getting anywhere else. That there were two young superheroes in Paris who needed someone to understand what they were going through, since they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell anyone else? Bruce would have adoption papers written up in minutes, and taking the two from their city didn’t seem right. Plus he would never let Bruce adopt them, the kids had enough emotional baggage to deal with without being a Wayne. 

“I just haven’t, Bruce. I’m a grown man. I-” “You have responsibilities, Jason. I let you take this vacation because I could see you needed it. But now we need you. I- your brothers miss you.” Bruce says, and Jason rolls his eyes at the man’s inability to be emotional. He would’ve done great in Hawkmoth’s Paris. 

“Okay, I’ll start looking for a ticket. I should be home in two or three weeks-”

“I’ve already ordered a ticket for you. Your flight leaves Paris at noon tomorrow. See you then.” Bruce says, hanging up before Jason has the chance to argue more. Not that he had the energy after going back and forth between arguing with Dick and Bruce for two goddamned hours. Resisting the urge to throw his phone against the wall, Jason takes a couple deep breaths to ground himself. No need to upset Mari and Adrien and if he goes in there pissed off, they’re gonna get upset. Shaking his head to try and clear it, Jason throws open Adrien’s door, grinning at the two, sitting side by side on Adrien’s bed. 

“Pixie Pop, you’re gonna piss off the nurse if she sees you up there again.” He says, walking over to his usual chair. 

“You’re upset.” She says, instead of arguing and reminding him that she can take anything the nurses can dish out (they’d had the exact conversation yesterday….and the day before.) Jason blinks, acting confused. 

“Don’t even try and act like you’re not Jay. Mari’s scary good at reading people.” Adrien says with a frown. Jason huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m pissed.” He admits, slumping back in his chair and crossing his arms. Marinette turns to Adrien and whispers something to him, Adrien nodding before she turns back to look at him. 

“You’re gonna need our phone numbers.” She says, and Jason frowns in actual confusion this time. 

“Gonna need a little more than that, Pix.” He says. 

“Well, we knew that you’re not from here. And that eventually you’d have to go back. I mean, I’m sure your boss wasn’t planning on you taking a vacation quite this long. But-” Marinette pauses and lets out a shaky breath. “But neither of us want to lose you. You care about both sides of us, and you’re the only one. You’re our big brother, Jay, but we both know that you have another life somewhere else. And I’m sure those people miss you too. I mean, you’re kinda cool or whatever.” Marinette teases, but he can tell behind the smirk that she’s close to tears. Jason sighs and stands, bringing both of them into a big hug. 

“I don’t wanna leave, ya know.” He mumbles, frowning when he feels his shirt getting wet from tears. 

“I know. But you have to. And that’s okay. It’s not goodbye forever.” Marinette says, her voice breaking as she holds onto him tighter. 

“Expect a lot of calls and face times. Especially once I get my arm. I have so many jokes to make, you’re gonna be sick of it.” Adrien says, and despite the joke, Jason can tell the boy is crying too. Jason squeezes a little tighter, accepting the fact that he’d be leaving. And that he wasn’t sure when he’d see the two again.

Next

Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat 

[sanris3]

A fine line

Pairing: reader x san Genre: friends to lovers(?)/angst Summary: You realize you're in love with your best friend San and unsure how to approach it. Playing with the thin line between friends and lovers. author notes: This is my first piece in a while, I hope everyone enjoys it! in a silly goofy mood at 5am Word Count: 1.6k

The both of you definitely started off on the wrong note. When you and San were first introduced to each other, it was difficult to get close to him. He radiated this intimidating aura and with your shy self, there was no way you'd approach someone like him. You had mutuals through a couple friend groups, it was only natural that you'd end up friends. However, there had been a misunderstanding through a mutual friend and you never thought to clear the air.. because after all, you weren't in a position to fight for the friendship anyway. The both of you left it as it is. Fast forward to 2 years later and the two of you are closer than ever. There was a stark difference between your personalities, hobbies, hell- even the way you both processed things were different. But oddly enough, you guys make it work. You were the epitome of 'opposites attract.' You'd never expect that a toxic relationship would deem you two as inseparable. San struggled a lot and you were there for him whenever he needed a shoulder to lean on. No one understood him but you oddly did. Looking at his situation, you found yourself looking in the mirror recognizing you had been in his position just a year ago. You desired to be there for him. You were reminded of the turbulent moments and unexplainable behaviors that took place- and unknowingly, you began to prioritize him. Not in a romantic way- more so, just ensuring San is doing okay because after all, he is your best friend. All you could think about were the empty moments you experienced when you went through the same thing, you didn't want him to believe no one understood him, because you did. How delightful would it have been if you had someone like this to root for you back then? San allowed himself to become comfortable with you. Sharing each vulnerable thought was a common conversation you two had and honestly- it was fascinating to learn how aware he was about his emotions because all this time, you believed he was emotionally constipated. Even after being friends for so long, the conversations you had never reached the depth that they did now. This was a sign he genuinely acknowledged you to be his closest friend. You'll never overlook the excitement you experienced at the realization he trusts you at his most vulnerable moments. It was happiness. This is what it feels like to have a friendship reciprocated. Vulnerable. Stable. Consistent. Several months go by and that relationship ends. You adhere to his side until the end, making sure he's completely taken care of; and even though it's challenging, you walk him through the emotions, keeping him together at his roughest moments. You had become his pillar. And that's exactly what you did, until, he suddenly cut off contact with you. You understood his heartbreak. He needed time to heal, but that time apart managed to lead through the most confusing part of your friendship. You missed him terribly but what could you do? He needed his space and you respected that. You hear from him for the first time for what feels like forever and you notice something is off. There's something about his aura that shifted- and you couldn't figure it out. Both of you are nervous to talk to each other after the sudden break but as always, you get through it and pick up on the flow once again. But this time it's different. There was a new feeling of awareness in your stomach when you got a notif from him- and for so long, you assured yourself it was because you missed him. Which was true. (at least for now.) There were many instances where you wanted to reach out and invade his space but that would only harm your friendship, and that was the furthest thing you desired to do. But you couldn't help yourself, you grew anxious that he would disappear on you again and started attaching yourself to him a different way and it was a scary feeling because you knew where this would lead to. "She was my person. It was rocky but I've never loved anyone so hard," he says amidst another vulnerable conversation. You try to bring him comfort by wrapping your arms

around him, gently pulling him in for a hug as he sobs again for the night. Your hands rub against his back, gently finding a pace. You feel his grasp on you tighten, hands clinging to you like you'll slip away. But you stay there, bringing him all the comfort he needs, he was still healing. There was that feeling again. Like always, you brushed it aside and never dared to ponder upon it. For the first time, your heart sinks when he's talking about her. It's a good day for both of you. Throughout your hangout you're able to pick up conversations like before, San is starting to smile again and joke a lot more often, the bright San you knew was returning and you were genuinely happy for him. "I knew you'd turn out okay, if I did, you would. It just took some time." you blurt out in the middle of silence as the two of you are watching a movie. He stops in his tracks to turn towards you, "Thank you." His lips curve up into a warm smile with his arms reaching out, unexpectedly pulling you into his arms. "You know, I'm sorry for disappearing. You've been nothing but good to me through everything. I'm grateful to have you around, I promise I'll return everything." You go along with it, loosely wrapping your arms around his frame. "It's okay." You answer with a pause before continuing. "I missed you a lot." "I did too."

There it is again. That feeling. As time went by, it was growing difficult to ignore the little jump in your heart seeing anything of him. A text? A call? Hanging out? Your wavering heart couldn't ignore. The overwhelming feeling was too much for you to handle so that day you ignore San for your sake. You took the day off to think about your feelings for the first time. Why him? Why now? It was hard to understand the sudden change in heart. You pondered over and over again if this was true. Overthinking leads one thing to another and the next thing you know, you're on your bed crying endlessly in the sheets. Out of all people, your feelings were stirred up by Choi San. For the next few months, it was a brutal game of push and pull. Not between you and San, but you and yourself. Slowly, you were filled with frustrations no one but him had answers to, it was driving you insane; One moment you would see San as a friend, then it would be more than that. The friendly gestures you were recieving from him were transforming to a different meaning in your heart. The pet names, the random compliments, the sporadic oversharing- oh you wished that it would stop. But a part of you knew you were acting like this due to the fact you were hyper aware of your feelings.

At one point you wondered what it would be like to feel his lips against yours. It was a confusing cycle you couldn't stand to seperate from him. How bad could it be if you started and ended things on your note? But if you revealed your heart, what if it backfired? There was a chance you'd lose your best friend and it was too risky to cross that line. You were desperate enough to go on dates, and of course, San encouraged you through all of them. There was a clear answer to your questions but the little hope you had in you, kept praying. Just maybe. You wanted San to feel the same way. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or you were tired of stringing yourself along- so you initiated the conversation about dating again. Of course, you were extremely careful with how you apporached the situation; One mess up and it'll change the dynamic of your bond forever. You thought about what would happen far ahead. Sure he accepts your feelings and there's might be connection but what if you guys aren't compatiable as lovers? would the both of you have the courage to love like you haven't been hurt? "San- Can I ask you for advice on something? Or not really advice.. but your input." The brunette gears his attention towards you fully, emmitting the same flustering feeling in your stomach. But you don't react physically.

"Is it something serious?" "Yeah sort of-" "Is this another joke you're play-" "I'm serious!" "Okay, what's up?" "what do you think about dating a friend?-" "what?" "just answer the question." "I'm scared it'll happen again." " yeah same, I get you." The both of you return to the movie, carrying on like the conversation didn't happen. The air turned thick. At one point the comfortable silence grew suffocation. Did he catch on or are you thinking too much? For the first time you realized how dangerous that fine line between friends and lovers were. In the end, you didn't want him to take responsibility for your actions. Why should San suffer because of your feelings? that was the last thing you wanted. Sure, you won't be able to kiss him and hug him, or feel his embrace in a much more intimate way- but he was by your side and that mattered. With that, you were happy and content. Even if his heart wasn't yours. "San?" "Yeah?" "I'm really grateful you're my best friend." "I could say the same."

[giant-sketches]

Happy birthday @gentlegiantdreamer!!!  You are such a wonderful and inspiring person to me and I hold you dear to my heart! So for your birthday I made you this art and wrote you a little story to go along with it. I wish you a day full of fun and love! There is also a speedpaint!

I hope you can feel the effort I put into this and long hours of work too. I hope you and everyone enjoys my interpretations of Lilypadton and enjoy the story. Disclaimer: Almost Drowning/Cussing/Pain/Shouting/Monster Transformations

Word Count: 1746

At the start Patton was very active after his first transformation as Lilypadton. That may have been due to him going about the day believing it was a one time deal, but that wasn’t the case. From time to time the other sides would catch glimpses of his skin turning green around his hands and dark patches appearing on his neck. However, whenever the subject was brought up with the moral side he’d brush it off as a trick of the light or some kind of baking material he missed in his clean up. They all knew better though, especially his boyfriends Janus and Virgil.

“We need to go talk to him….TODAY!” Janus was pacing around Virgil’s room with his arms crossed, expressing his impatience with his partner.

Virgil thought it best to give Patton space, but his changes were becoming more frequent. Now things were even worse as their cutie had locked himself in his room for the past two days.

“I know you wanted to give him space, but now he’s trapped himself in his room. We’re the only ones on this side of the mindscape that can help him through this.” Janus hissed and cursed himself for not doing something sooner.

“Please calm down Jan.” Virgil got up from his bed to hold his boyfriend. “It’s going to be alright. Let’s go see him now and tell him about what’s happening to him.” He paused in thought. “Though, I never thought we’d ever have this kind of discussion with him honestly. To think he was like us this whole time.”

Janus touched his scaled face and looked at Virgil with soft eyes. “Are you going to show him? You know how h-” “Yeah I know...but I have to. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hide it when he’s going through something ten times worse.” Janus kissed Virgil’s cheek to reassure him.

Both left the room and slowly made their way to Patton’s door. Virgil tried the door knob, still locked. “Patton? Sweetpea we’ve come here to see how you are doing. Can you let us in, please?” Silence...no wait there was some kind of groaning sound coming from behind the door. “G-go away…” Was that Patton just now? It sounded like he was gurgling water while trying to speak.

“We can’t do that! We have something important to talk-or show you!” Janus looked to Virgil nervously. The former dark side nodded his head as Jan’s nails grew out to a point and sliced the doorknob off. “Excuse the intrusion.”

Both stepped into a darkened and rather humid room. Thankfully, both of them could see in the dark. In the corner they spotted Patton curled up and shaking, facing the wall. He visibly showed signs of changing with his green tinted skin and dark patches all over his arms and neck. “Pat?”

Startled, Patton sprang to his feet and turned to face them. They gasped at how their little buddy appeared taller now, his eyes now distinctly like a frog’s, and his hair showed faded tips of green. His eyes were filled with tears as he had to look down at his friends. He felt like a monster!

“No, no please….you have to LEAVE!” Patton’s voice croaked and boomed as he shot up another 10 feet and banged his head on the ceiling with a loud thunk. He groaned as he fell to his hands. The tears intensified as water seeped from the cracks in the wall and began flooding the room.

“Shit! Hold on to me!” Virgil clung to Janus for dear life as they quickly rose to the ceiling with the increasing water level. Patton was down below still weeping and expanding. His form pressing up against every nook and cranny of his tiny room. “Patton! Patton please! You need to stop crying or we’re going to- gurrglrrglr”

Time was up. The water had now completely filled the room as Janus and Virgil started sinking. Luckily, their froggy friend heard their pleas and snapped out of his distress. Quickly he expanded the room, changing it’s form as he scooped up the two tenderly in his webbed hands. With a kick of his strong legs Pat breached the surface. The room was now a large pond with only a small island in the center. The sun was warm and there was the sound of life all around them, but this was no time to relax.

“Virgil? Janus? Oh my gosh please, you have to be okay kiddos! Please!” Patton begged for his sweethearts to be okay as he set them on the soft grass. He poked at their stomachs as gently as he could.

*Cough* *Cough*

Oh thank goodness! Both were hacking up small volumes of water as they gasped for air, sweet-sweet air! “Patton?” Their vision was foggy from nearly drowning as they tried to focus on the green blob in front of them. Virgil raised up his arms, “A-are you okay?”

“What do you mean am I okay?! Are you okay? You two almost drowned b-because of me!” The big softie was on the verge of tears once again as he leaned in to nuzzle his dark darling with his nose.

“Woah...how big are you Patty?” Virgil giggled. He definitely wasn’t expecting to be cuddled by a gentle green snout of all things. “We’re okay Pat. Just a bit out of breath and-” Janus shivered, he had gotten too cold.

Virgil noticed as he escaped from Patton’s schnoz and immediately started cuddling up to his scaly boyfriend to warm him up. Pat climbed up onto the island, but at his current size of 100 feet he covered the majority of it as he scooped them up in his hand to hold them both closer to the sun. Jan was thankful for this as he hissed happily. His cold blood started to run warm again.

“Thank you darling! The numbness is fading now.” He lifted himself up to look at Patton with a warm expression. “Wow, look at you Pat.” “Yeah, Mr. Green right here.” They both joked to cut the tension. Patton laughed along with them as the ground shook, causing ripples in the water. His size really was something to behold. Still, their joy was cut short, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bottled up my emotions like that and hidden away. You two could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“Oh Patty! We understand…w-we have something to tell you.” Virgil looked to Janus hoping he would start. “That’s right Patton, Virgil and I have both gone through what you’re experiencing right now. Okay, maybe not the exact same thing, but something similar.”

Patton was surprised. “W-what do you mean?” Janus smiled flashing his fangs, “I’m sure you’ve already noticed my face, but have you ever wondered why it looks like this?” Pat shook his head, he always thought it’d be taboo to ask about. “It’s because of my monster side.”

Monster side?! What was that? Patton was obviously confused as Virgil spoke up, “Mhm...Janus, Remus, and I...we all have a monster side to us. Janus doesn’t hide his like I do though and Remus is always shifting so it just seems ‘normal’ for him. It was a huge surprise when yours was revealed. Honestly, I never thought you’d be like us Pat.” Virg was feeling anxious as he kept his head down while talking.

“B-but you’ve never looked like Janus at all Stormcloud. What does your monster side look like?” Damn...that was a question he really wanted to avoid. “Guess there’s no use hiding it anymore huh? B-before I show you, you have to promise me you won’t freak out...okay Pat?”

Virgil looked so serious as he stared at Patton. What was he so worried about? “Awe kiddo, you know I’d never be scared of you! I love you too much!” He beamed a smile that put the sun to shame at them as Virgil sighed feeling a bit more relieved. “Alright.”

Concentrating, he closed his eyes as eight pitch black spider legs spread out from his back starting from the spine. He winced in pain, it’d been a long time since he last transformed. A pair of sharp mandibles poked out from the corners of his mouth; four slits opened up underneath his cheeks in pairs, each containing a solid black eye with a hint of purple.

“Aaaahhhh!!!” Suddenly, Virgil screamed lightly in pain as the transformation came to end with his new set of fangs and claws growing to a point. Janus caught him as he slumped over, huffing from exhaustion. Weakly, he looked up to Patton trying his best to smile.

Patton was mortified as he watched Virgil writhe in pain in his hand. When it all finally came to an end he was looking eyes wide at a big black spider...fuck! His heart was racing as he tried to not physically throw his boyfriend into the pond. Wait! That’s right this was his little sweetie, his Stormcloud, Prince of Darkness, etc. There was no need to be so scared...he gulped as he reached down to stroke his loves face.

Oh! He was still so soft and honestly his spider legs kind of tickled. The fear in his heart dissolved instantly. Patton giggled at how nervous he was only moments ago as he pressed them both to his cheek. “So I’m not alone after all.”

God, Virgil was instantly healed by his Sweetpea’s warmth. He hugged into the green flesh happily. “Of course not Patton, we’ll both always be here for you!”

“I’m so happy right now! You two are the best boyfriends in the whole wide world!!!”

Patton slid into the pond once more as he laid on his back. He kissed his cuties to his plush lips and then placed them right on top of his chest as he floated along the water. All the while they laughed and smiled at their giant lovers' touch.

“This new form is scary, but at long as I have you two I think I’ll be okay.”

“We love you Patton and we’ll always love you no matter what you are.”

The couple laid on Pat’s chest as tiny frogs hopped up from the lily pads to play with them as they enjoyed their time together. All content in knowing that each of them had a little cute monster inside of them that made them special.