#Automotive Excitement | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aledmorningstar · 11 months ago

Text

╰┈➤Bad joke

Summary: Sukuna discovers that you don't like jokes.

Relationship: Ryomen Sukuna/Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Note: Slow updates, my editor and I are in a fight with my university administrators.

-‘๑’-: No curses au, uni au, sfw, humor, fluff, slight angst

The terrible hours of class had finally ended, the hard day of university had culminated its torture at 6:00 pm, every day you reconsidered the idea of continuing studying so intensely, did you really need that university degree?

Without a doubt, life sounded more beautiful in an imaginary world, being a pretty housewife who patiently waited for her millionaire husband who loved her madly, your days would be spent helping your children with their homework and wasting an unreasonable amount of money on any whim.

“We've told you to stop daydreaming, it could be dangerous in the wrong places.”

Your daydream was interrupted by one of your best friends, it seemed like your group of friends had already finished putting away their belongings and were just waiting for you to leave the classroom.

"Oh I'm sorry. I was just thinking about the future."

“Is the young lady returning to the fantasy of married life with her impolite boyfriend?”

"Hey! I already told you not to talk about him like that."

You argue while you put your notebooks and computer in your bag, the one that your boyfriend Ryomen had given you on your birthday even though you told him that a gift was not necessary, you knew how difficult it must be for him and how limited which can sometimes be the money in your situation; his mother, playing the role of both parents and trying to provide a bright future for her children; Yuji, his twin who had to complete several courses to be a firefighter and also study a Bachelor's degree in automotive mechanics; and finally Ryomen himself, who had to complete his university career as a lawyer.

It was definitely not easy for him or his family, unlike you, who had lived the life of a princess in an imaginary bubble impenetrable by the dangers and worries of reality. Even though you had insisted on helping that modest family financially, you were not allowed to do so. Both Sukuna and his brother and mother refused to accept a cent of your generous support, saying that they did not want to take advantage of your kindness. That did not stop them from you gave expensive gifts to each one on special dates.

Maybe that was the reason behind that expensive gift from your boyfriend, one day he simply listened to you talk about that beautiful designer bag that was going to become fashionable with its next release on sale, he used all his savings and even did part-time jobs, washing cars, walking dogs, helping model clothes for the fashion design department; just to be able to see a cute and excited smile on your face.

You are a princess, the most beautiful flower he could find and of course he would give you everything you deserve, everything that fine society has given you and he does his best so that you do not have any lack by his side, to be worthy of you.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you had pre-ordered that bag thanks to your father's contacts and that you had to refund it, angering some merchants for their wasted efforts.

“Hurry up, if we don't get to the cafe on time the tables will be full.”

Like every Friday you and your friends got together to talk about the latest news in your lives, your social circle was mostly made up of girls just as privileged as you, it wasn't difficult for your father to convince you to choose a career in law, much less make you enter one of the most demanding and prestigious schools in the country.

Your friends are good girls, you knew that otherwise you wouldn't have even looked at them; However, like you, they were overprotected and followed the sophisticated rules that society had imposed on them. This was one of the reasons why they didn't quite agree with your relationship with Ryomen Sukuna, a commoner in their eyes.

Like any conversation between friends, the topic of boys and relationships could not be avoided, a topic in which you came to light with your strange relationship of “opposite poles”, the little princess of the city and the delinquent of the campus, it was the funniest and most interesting experiment your friends could witness.

“So… How is our little princess's relationship going? Did he already ruin it?”

Of course there were going to be silly comments that doubted that your relationship was authentic and that waited for the slightest mistake from your boyfriend to shout in your face “I told you so.”

"No and he won't, you don't know my 'kuna"

“We know his history”

Even though all your friends were always supportive and kind to you, there was one in particular who wasn't very nice. Ann, always making sarcastic comments and believing herself to be better than everyone, everyone could see how jealous she was of you; She had been the last to join the group, one day you saw her alone and decided to integrate her into your group, unfortunately you never found the words to tell her that you no longer wanted to be her friend.

“Come on, darling, everyone here remembers how your relationship began.”

“He has changed, he is not the same person he was before, he is a new man”

Sure, your relationship may not have started off in the most convincing way possible, there were lies, misunderstandings and a lot of tears, but everything is different now. Now you have the romance that any girl could dream of, one full of love, affection and trust of those you only find in books, you would have your happily ever after.

“Well, I'll wait for your bad boy to do one of his things and don't say I didn't warn you.”

"When pigs fly, that's not going to happen"

The atmosphere had frozen in an awkward silence as you and Ann exchanged a big forced smile, it was strange to see you angry because of your sweet personality, but it would certainly be even stranger not to see you jump into an argument that included Ryomen Sukuna's name, you are his unofficial lawyer.

“Okay girls, let's talk about something else…”

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

You love Fridays, the best day of the week, since you could sleep over at your loved one's house and enjoy the weekend in his arms watching movies, doing puzzles, taking photos, listening to music, talking, watching videos, going out on dates, ordering takeout or even when he played a video game on the console and you were left coloring the pictures he printed for you (sometimes he needs his space).

That Friday the drawings were finished quickly, so you decided to watch some videos on your tiktok while Sukuna played a video game that you only knew had weapons because of the shots. The videos on your fyp were about pranks between couples (something that amused you), some light and others a little harsh.

Sukuna was someone who was a joker, someone who liked to make jokes but couldn't stand having one played on him; However, you were a couple, a slight joke between you could be kind of funny, it wasn't even a funny joke you just wanted to see how funny his reaction could be.

A message made Sukuna's phone ring, you thought it was the perfect time for your little act as you held back your laughter.

“Who is sending you so many messages? You have another girl, right?”

Your comment surprised Sukuna slightly, you weren't the jealous type, he looked at you for a split second and that was enough for him to know you were joking, he can play too.

"Oh my love. It's not even one girl, they´re five precious ones."

The amused smile that adorned your face disappeared in an instant, being replaced by a strange grimace, your eyes glistening from the tears that formed and that you refused to let go as you bit your trembling lower lip, preventing any sound.

"Really?"

“Of course, pretty. I'm too cool to stay with just one girl."

Memories of your conversation with Ann invaded your mind, Sukuna Ryomen had a past that was difficult to overcome, would he really change overnight for you?

Your boyfriend quickly realized that you had started packing your belongings back into your suitcase, why would you do that? The plan was that you would stay with him like every weekend, what was happening?

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Well, you had dropped a little bomb that exploded in your face and you didn't like it, but you wouldn't let him notice that it dealt a low blow at least for you.

“I'm just putting my things away. “Can you pass me my colored pencils?”

Sukuna decided to make the difficult decision to abandon his game and pay attention to the seemingly serious situation that was occurring with his beloved.

He did as you asked, you put away your colored pencils next to your other belongings with quick movements and finally wrote something furiously on your phone.

“I asked you a question, what are you doing?”

“Nothing… I'm asking my driver to come pick me up.”

"Now?"

“Yes, now. In fact I'm writing to him 'Please hurry up, I want to leave here right now, come as fast as you can'”

You could barely feel the force and speed with which Ryomen snatched the phone from your hands, he stood up and placed your phone on one of the highest pieces of furniture in the living room.

"Why would you do that?"

"What do you mean why? Did you hear what you said earlier?”

The hardest question you can ask a man, ask him the reason why his girlfriend was angry. The pink-haired man's reasoning quickly went to work.

Connect the dots, you had gotten angry within a period of 5 minutes, you weren't angry with him before that time, all he had done was play video games. Had that bothered you? No, he had given you drawings of your favorite characters to entertain you, the only thing he had done besides playing had been answering your joke... Oh.

“Ah, that's it.”

“Is that all you will say?”

Okay, a mental note for Sukuna: You like making jokes, you don't like having them made or returned to you. You're a crybaby, but he still loves you.

“Sorry, love, it was a joke. You know that I only love you, you are the only girl who occupies my heart, the owner of my soul and my body, I would kill for you, ask me to kill for you."

Ryomen approached to hug you from behind, he placed one of his hands on your abdomen and one on your shoulder, crossing your chest to bring you closer to him, you could feel his breath on your neck and after a few seconds you shivered from the kisses he gave you. he left on your cheek.

“I didn't find your joke funny.”

“In my defense, you started joking that I had another woman. You’re a baby, jokes aren’t your thing, darling.”

The look on your face made him feel like he had just kicked a puppy, his solution was to carry you back to the couch and hold you in his arms.

"I'm sorry baby. You can choose the movie we watch today, deal?”

"Deal"

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭 master list is here

#aledthinks #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jujustsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #drabble #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #sukuna #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #fluff

717 notes · View notes

thewinter-eden · 30 days ago

Text

Blink Twice if You Need Help

images are mine (except middle CB pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 3 of the skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Seo Changbin x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: stalker!Changbin has been following you for weeks. He’s looking for his next target, and he’s obsessed with you. While he’s watching you, however, he learns the secret you keep—you’re being routinely robbed by your addict brother. After watching this cycle of abuse end with you crying almost every night, Changbin takes pity.

warnings: Familial abuse, drug addict brother, satirical but definitive death of character, physical abuse, stalking, nonconsensual photographs, creepiness, fear, breakup, blood and injury, strangulation (brief, no death), automotive-related death, please for the love of god don’t take this seriously, Changbin’s kinda icky (I’m sorry babes I swear I love you), chai lattes

word count: 6k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info PART 2 INFO

You’re radiant.

You always are, have been since the moment you first stepped foot in his café.

But today, you’re radiant in blue. It’s a sweater he’s seen a dozen times, but now as you tiptoe up to the counter, pushing your sleeves up to your elbows and baring half a dozen clinking bracelets of various metals and stones, he thinks he’s never seen anything so perfect.

He responds to your chirped good morning and waits for the next notes of your voice to tell him what you’re ordering, and he can’t help but trace the lines of your face with his eyes as you glance over the menu.

Startled out of his admiring trance by your sharp gaze pinning him with a smile, he forces his stare to stay above your lips as you give a half laugh and request, “A chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves, please.”

You never try anything new.

Today it’s yellow.

The bell above the door rings an announcement of your arrival, and there you are; wearing a warm yellow dress with thick black tights that keep the chill off, your cheeks flushed from the cold.

He can’t say your smile lights up a room, because from his perspective, your smile blacks the room out. Everyone else disappears. No one and nothing exists except for you, right before his eyes, your windswept hair a halo around your brow.

He hands off the drink he’s just finished making for another regular customer, sending them out the door with a kind smile, and then turns to you just as your fingertips touch down on his counter top.

It’s almost procedural, the way he anticipates each move you make just before you make it. You slide your fingertips towards the register before laying your palms flat, cocking your hip against the counter as though you have to lean closer to see the menu.

Your eyes trace the words and pictures for a few long seconds, gifting him with the view of your throat curving up towards your jaw, and the contemplative bow of your lips. And then, finally, you’ll drop your eyes to his, smile like you’ve never been more excited to order a cup of coffee, and then you place your order.

Always a chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves.

“Good morning,” He greets you when you appear in a pink jumpsuit. His eyes follow the sounds of your bracelets jingling, up to the clink of the two necklaces you always wear, up to the cheeky swish of the earrings that ornate all three of your lobe piercings.

Your eyes fall from the menu to his face like they’ve been physically pushed, surprised by his friendly voice, and he doesn’t think he imagines the sudden rush of heat that crawls up your throat with a wash of color. “Oh.”

He’s caught you off-guard; he knows, because you’ve never given him that upward tilt of your voice before.

“Good morning!” You sing back, that smile pulling your lips back.

“Chai latte with oatmilk?” He recalls, already lifting a cup and holding his marker at the ready.

“With extra cloves.” You confirm, slightly in awe that he’s remembered.

Of course he remembers.

He flashes you a wink just before he turns around to start on your drink, and sees you in his peripheral moving towards the pickup counter. You’re smiling down at the rings that clutter your fingers, and he can’t help the swarm in his chest that floods in as a result of the fact that this time, you’re the one flustered over him.

The day that you arrive at the café to find that your latte is already made and ready for you, you’re missing one of your earrings. He catches your eye as you enter, his gaze flickering over that blue sweater again as you approach the register.

Before you can order, he’s pushing your full, steaming cup towards you and the screen is already flashing your total. His eyes flick from yours to the empty piercing on your left lobe. “Good morning,” He says.

You’re staring down at the cup with a sort of delighted, half-confusion, before your gaze snaps back up to him. “Is this—”

“Chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves.” He confirms with a grin. Then he falters, tilting his head at you. “Unless you want something different today?”

Your hands bring the cup closer to you, possessively. “No, this is perfect.” You argue, and then you’re digging for your billfold. “Thank you…” You drift off, eyebrows lifting hopefully as you hint around for his name.

“Changbin.” A pink tint covers his cheeks as his grin softens. “And you?”

You give him your name, and your money, and leave the café with butterflies in your stomach.

When he finds the missing earring a few feet from the entrance to his café, accidentally dropped on the sidewalk, he scoops it up and tucks it in his pocket with care.

On an unseasonably warm day, you appear at his register in a shorter black skirt and a slouchy gray sweater that hangs off all the protruding points of your body with teasing subtlety. He passes you your drink, with the addition of a new flavor of muffin that his baker is trying out in the form of mini pastries, and notices that your skirt is well above your knees, fluttering around your mid-thigh in a way that has his gut clenching.

The tights don’t distract at all from the musculature of your legs and the curve of your ass that suddenly seems dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“Good morning, Changbin,” You greet cheerfully, and the sound of his name in your mouth brings his attention back to your bright features.

He makes sure no one follows you home. Your sweater is too flirty with your curves, your skirt too short, for him to rely on the strength and decency of lesser men.

You make it home, safe and sound, to your modest and tasteful townhouse. You live on the ground floor, surrounded by windows and bathed in soft fluorescent lighting.

You listen to pop music in the mornings, and early 2000s grunge rock in the afternoons. He takes note of the artists you listen to the most, and, soon enough, when you walk into the café in the mornings, there’s familiar music playing through the speakers.

He lives for the way it makes you smile when you notice.

As you get ready every morning, you put the same TV show on in the background, so he finds the station. It takes a few days for you to realize that he has it on one of the TVs mounted in the corners of his café, but when you do, you start lingering for a few extra moments every day to catch a couple seconds with fondness on your face.

He’s never watched an episode of the show in his life, but if it gets him two more sentences out of you every morning, consider him obsessed. He watches it all the time.

All of your snacks and meals are high protein and low sugar, because you go to the gym for two hours every other day and your one self indulgent treat is the sugary chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves that he makes for you.

This fact warms him from the inside out, because he resonates with this lifestyle choice. Your gym is near his, and it’s almost as large, almost as nice. You’re a hard worker, your beautiful curves the product of self discipline and dedication. He stops offering you his baker’s pastries and starts giving you the rich and smoky cheesy egg bites instead, and starts to realize that the guilty smile you once accepted your freebies with is now replaced by weightless excitement.

There’s not a single inch of you that needs less sugar, of course. He’d give you every muffin in his shop if he thought that was what you wanted. But he understands the yen for the feeling of progress in the gym, and the burden of cheating yourself through bad nutrition, so if he can help you feel like you’re getting stronger, he will. Hell, he’d start serving steak in his café if he thought you had an iron deficiency.

“Changbin!” You keen one morning as you flounce to the register in a flattering red blouse that he watched you pick out this morning. You lean against the counter with a great heave, and past the rush of excitement he feels for the very deliberate interaction you’re giving him, he notices a trace of greenish blue wrapping around your throat.

Then you turn your head and the light shifts the shadows on your skin, and he’s not sure.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” He greets casually, despite the pink tinge to his cheeks. “What’s going on?”

You scrub your nails over your scalp with exasperation and then set your enormous pleading eyes on him. “Binnie…”

His gut swirls.

That’s a new nickname.

It’s in his head now, locked into his brain, the way your tongue forms the sweet sound of his name like that.

“Changbin,” you say again. “Changbinnie.”

Despite the absolute earthquake happening in his chest, he gives you the flattest expression of suspicion that he can manage, and hopes his skin tone isn’t currently tomato. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.” It’s a lie.

A bald faced lie. He loves the sound of this. He wants you to keep repeating his name like that until it’s all he can hear.

Your bottom lip juts out in a pout, and he has to physically turn away to clean the milk steamer before he loses control in his place of business.

“Tell me you haven’t made my latte yet?” You plead, leaning further on the counter.

When he glances over his shoulder, he sees the way you’ve inadvertently showcased your breasts for him, and he spins around again, pinching his eyes shut. As though his apartment walls aren’t disappearing more and more by the day behind pictures of you.

As though he doesn’t know every single color in your underwear drawer.

“No, not yet. Why?” Another lie. The latte is sitting by his left hand, still steaming, just waiting for your manicured hands and perfectly lined lips.

“My blender broke this morning.” You whine, and dig in your purse for something. “I know you have smoothies on your menu, but I was wondering if you would add my protein powder to one? Is that legal, to take an ingredient from a customer?” You flap an admittedly suspicious looking ziplock bag at him. “I have a protein smoothie every morning for breakfast, and at this point it’s more of a crutch than my latte and I’ll just spiral for the rest of the day if I don’t start it with a strawberry shake, so please, Binnie—”

He cuts you off with one hand covering the one of yours that holds the ziplock, and the other pushing your latte towards you. “I have protein powder. You want vanilla or strawberry for your strawberry smoothie?”

Your mouth makes a beautiful “O” shape as your free hand cups the hot latte. “I thought you hadn’t made it?”

Changbin tosses a wink over his shoulder, already grabbing the vanilla protein powder. He already knows it’ll be vanilla. He already knows you want the whey powder and not the plant-based. He already knew about the blender.

Your morning may have started with an unexpected hiccup, but his is going exactly according to plan.

“Pull up a chair and drink while I make your smoothie. The latte is on the house.”

You immediately protest, but he won’t hear of it. He basks in your company as you sip down every bit of your comfort beverage, and then offers idle chatter between the scenes of your TV show as you spend ten minutes more than usual in his café, drinking your protein smoothie.

He got a full thirty minutes with you this morning, and it’s worth every second.

The morning that you wake up with another man steals the smile from his face. You must have brought him home with you last night, invited him to stay over, and are now foregoing your sacred protein smoothie in your new blender for a more traditional breakfast of eggs and toast, for the sake of your half-naked guest.

Changbin’s heels haven’t cooled even by the time you make it into the café for your latte, and he’s especially somber when you order an additional drink, a reeking pumpkin cappuccino that he’s forgotten to erase from the menu from a month ago.

He notices the extra warmth in your smile; your excitement is diminished, replaced with a satisfied contentment that makes his shoulders tense.

You’re falling in love with this new man, blushing down at your phone and walking home with your chin high, waking up in the mornings with a smile on your lips.

Changbin serves you every morning, your rich and creamy oatmilk chai latte with extra cloves, and the nauseating pumpkin cappuccino for your bedfellow. He doesn’t know why this man doesn’t come to the coffee shop with you, if he sends money or if he makes you pay for both of your drinks, if he even likes the autumn atrocity that Changbin makes with shaking hands every day.

The fire in his throat only heats when your drink order abruptly changes to two hot green teas. He watches you turn down his readily prepared chai latte with an awkward darting of your eyes, lifting your hand in refusal as though if he doesn’t take it away, you’ll reach out and snatch it from him.

“I’m actually getting some green teas this morning,” You say, and he knows he isn’t imagining the disappointed chuckle in your tone.

He takes your discarded usual away without hesitation, suddenly concerned that you may have developed an allergy or an intolerance for your favorite drink, but you just swipe a palm over your forehead and lean your elbow on the counter, settling into the comfort of your casual friendship with the attentive barista. “My boyfriend and I have decided to start eating healthier,”

Changbin can’t bring himself to believe you. You eat vegetables and chicken or fish for lunch, you snack on cheese and meat, you bake with honey instead of sugar, and he can’t remember the last time he’s seen you without a water bottle in hand, in various stages of emptiness.

“We’re opting away from the lattes and cappuccinos for a bit.” You give another awkward laugh that turns his stomach, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

“You like the green tea?” He’s surprised. You have tea at home, of course, but it’s all black teas—rich and spicy and meant to be topped with a swirl of milk and brown sugar.

The skin around your mouth tightens as you fight a shiver. “Oh, no, but my boyfriend does.”

“I can make you something different,” He offers. “I have a bunch of teas. I just got in a new chai spice blend—” He breaks off when you raise your hand again, a physical barrier between your weakening determination and his tempting offer.

“That’s okay, Binnie. I think it tastes like soap and grass, but I promised him I’d give it a chance. Just the two green teas, please.” And you give him a sweet smile, just to make sure he knows that you’re not frustrated with him so much as your new dietary commitments.

You know he’s about to argue again, so you toss an appreciative glance around his coffee bar. “You live around here? I can’t imagine working every day like you do.”

“The apartment upstairs is mine,” He explains. “This café is my life; it’s not really a job anymore.”

“Wow.” Your soft voice is awash with jealousy. “That sounds like a dream.”

He hums softly at you, pulling the tea from his shelf. “It only tastes like soap and grass if you brew it too hot,” He says, and flicks on the kettle, indicating the thermometer on the lid. “If it tastes fishy, or sudsy, it’s either steeped too long or brewed too hot. Brew it low, steep it briefly, add a drop of honey, I swear it tastes like summer. If you don’t like it, I’ll give it to you for free.”

You protest, rolling your eyes nervously at his kindness, insisting that you’re not going to like it but you’re going to pay anyway. But when he hands you the drink—yours with honey and the boyfriend’s without—he urges you to take a delicate sip and watches your anticipating frown fade into pleasant surprise.

“Oh, it’s not bad.” You say, and beam at him.

He beams right back. “You want more honey?”

You shake your head. “No, this is fine. I’m still not sold on the flavor, but it’s not rancid like it’s always been from other shops. Thank you, Changbin!” And then you skip right out of his shop, on your way to deliver the drinks you don’t even like to your boyfriend.

But then, the morning that you arrive at his register with dark circles under your eyes and a downward slant to your lips doesn’t bring him the sense of relief that he thought it would. Your voice is low and unengaging as you order the teas, your smile unconvincing as you pay and leave without so much as a glance toward the TV.

Your boyfriend starts waking up earlier than you, leaving you to eat breakfast by yourself. It allows you to go back to your usual protein smoothies for breakfast, which seems to grant you at least a little bit of peace.

It seems that you’re still meeting him for lunch, because you still come in and order the two teas that you hate so much, but you hardly even talk to Changbin anymore. He watches your posture droop when you walk home, watches the way your muscles bunch and tense when your boyfriend looms behind you to greet you, hears the rising voices float across the street as you argue for the hundredth time.

Changbin hates the man who’s taken you from lovesick and floating on air to burdened and fearful. He hates the snippets of your life that he gets to see, the early morning sighs of disappointment as you realize you’re waking up alone again, the drag of your feet as you prepare to head in and grab the teas, your discouraged slump after lunch when your boyfriend comes home from work.

So when the morning comes that you arrive with your makeup sloppily done, tear tracks splitting the seamless layer of your foundation, and you order a single chai latte with oatmilk and extra cloves, Changbin smiles sympathetically at you and gives it to you for free.

He had watched you receive the breakup text over breakfast, his heart keening as you cried into your smoothie, his gut clenching as you sniffled your way through applying and reapplying your mascara, smiling proudly as you stared at yourself in your bedroom mirror and set your shoulders, determined to go about your day as you intended.

“His loss, gorgeous.” He says, unprompted, as your purple-tipped fingers curl around your cup of comfort.

Your eyes snap up to him, wide with surprise, and for a second his smile stalls. But then he reaches across the counter and presses a napkin into your hand, gesturing to where your eyeliner has fallen from your lower lid, and says, “I assume the tears, the single drink, and the lack of rancid green tea means your boyfriend isn’t in the picture anymore.”

Suspicion falls from your shoulders and you dab at your eyes brokenly. “Your tea was never rancid, Changbin.”

He reaches across the counter in a move that he, himself, wasn’t anticipating, and covers your hand with his own. “I know you’re having a bad day, gorgeous, but you can always talk to me.”

That brings a smile to your face. “Do you give all your customers such five star service?”

“Only the crying ones,” He winks, and then gives your hand a squeeze once he notices that you haven’t tried to pull it away.

You gather yourself with a bit of his offered strength, pushing your shoulders back and swallowing the next threatening round of tears, and flash him a smile that holds a trace of your old vibrancy.

He smiles proudly back at you. “Can I assume you’ll be taking your usual from now on?”

You nod, pulling a long drink from the beverage you’ve missed for so long, and give him the most beautiful sigh of contentment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Binnie.”

“See you soon, gorgeous.”

It turns out, that ominous bruise on your throat from a couple months ago wasn’t a trick of the light.

You bounce into the café wearing a shade of green that makes your eyes pop, earrings jingling as you make your way to the register. When you take a habitual gander at the menu, as though you’ll ever order anything but your usual ever again, he sees it again.

Not greenish blue, like it was that time, but a bright red and darkening purple, freshly settling into the flesh of your smooth throat.

You’re chattering about something, his peripheral catching flashes of your teeth as you talk, and his ears catch the clatter of your bracelets when you gesture with a hand to punctuate whatever point you’re making, but Changbin’s eyes are on the faint handprint beneath your jaw.

A paper to-go cup, mercifully empty, crushes in his angry fist, and your words stop abruptly.

“Binnie?”

His mouth stutters open, mind searching for words to demand an explanation for the signs of violence against you, stare still stuck on the marring of your perfect skin and supple flesh, when a delicate blanket of warmth covers his shaking hand. His mouth clicks shut, gaze dropping to where your hand is wrapped around his.

“Binnie. It’s fine.” How you knew what is speeding through his mind escapes him, because all he can see is another handprint, this one wrapped around your wrist, barely concealed by the stacks of mismatched bracelets.

When he finally catches your eyes, you look embarrassed and ashamed, but not unwell. Your smile is weaker this time, and his fingers pinch around the crumpled cup when he notices your lips trembling. “Binnie, I swear it’s fine.”

He takes your hand on his as permission to reach for you, and he tosses the cup in the trash and leans against the counter, his hand sliding up your forearm to grip your elbow. “Is someone hurting you?” His eyes narrow and his head cocks to peer under your jaw at the large, obviously male handprint.

Now that he’s close enough, he sees redness on your scalp, thin spots in your hair, tiny specks of crusted blood. Someone’s been yanking you around by the hair, and he’s almost sure it’s not a consensual act.

His mind is made up then, certain that something bad is happening in your house after he’s gone, determined that he needs to stick around longer and make sure you’re okay. Some time between his afternoon watch and his early morning check in, you’re being harmed by someone much larger than you.

When he looks away from the bruise at last, feeling your perfectly painted nails dig into the muscle of his forearm, he finds tears in your eyes.

“I’m okay, Binnie, I swear.” You whisper, and your free hand reaches for the latte that he tried to give you right before he noticed your damaged throat.

He loosens his grasp on you—it wasn’t tight to begin with, but he doesn’t want you feeling trapped. Instead of helping you reach the latte, he brings his hand up and lifts some of the loose strands of your hair away from your throat.

Changbin hears your breath catch, sees the pulse racing beneath your ear, so he pulls back. He drops his palms on the counter and watches you with a frown, observing as you desperately try to collect yourself from the intimate touches he’s surprised you with.

He can’t do anything about it until he knows what’s going on, so he just matches your weak smile and clears his throat. “Don’t go letting someone hurt my best customer, alright? No, put that away, it’s on me today.” He makes a waving motion at you as you go for your billfold, and the tension escapes from your chest.

Your voice sings with light laughter. “How can I be your best customer if you keep giving me things for free?”

Changbin just nods towards your latte. “Get out of here, gorgeous. Enjoy your drink.”

“I always do, Binnie.”

It’s your brother.

There’s a definite family resemblance in the slope of your noses and the bends of your knuckles, but the similarities stop there.

It’s after dinner that he arrives—two, three times a week—bursting into your house with no regard for your privacy or boundaries, rifling through the wallet that you keep on the mail table. His voice booms through the house, calling for you, so loudly it travels across the street.

He’s the reason you start coming in with darker bruises, poorly concealed by makeup on your throat, on your wrists, under your eyes. He’s the reason more of your hair tangles in your shower drain in clumps bunched together by clotted blood. He’s the reason for the spattering of bruises across the smooth skin of your chest, the reason you’ve stopped wearing bras with underwire that press into your damaged ribs for the sake of soft and gentle sports bras.

Your brother is the reason you sit on your bed at night, pressing an ice pack to your naked thigh where a faint boot print has stiffened the flesh. He’s the reason two of your fingers are wrapped and splinted, and the reason that Changbin has watched you sell your family piano and your late father’s expensive stereo set.

All for drug money.

Threats and violence and theft from your own brother so he can meet with his dealer outside the fourth street McDonalds.

Your smiles grow heavier and Changbin’s heart pounds harder as he watches you tremble in front of him, holding your latte with both hands. The expensive stones from your jewelry collection are gone, as is the vintage watch that your grandmother gave you.

It’s getting worse.

Your brother comes by more often, he gets more desperate. He’s no longer just looking for drug money, now he’s in debt, and you don’t have the means to help him pay it back. Not that he can be convinced of that.

You stop coming to the café. Changbin knows why, he knows you don’t have the money to spend on a drink every morning—even though most times he gives it to you for free. You won’t take advantage of him, even though he tells you you don’t have to pay.

Instead, he sees you tenderly rise from bed, walking on stiff and pained legs to your closet, dragging loose clothes over your mottled skin. You haven’t stocked up on your protein powder; it’s an expensive supplement, and your bank account is drained from your brother’s latest visit. Your breakfast is the last of your frozen strawberries, blended with yogurt and honey, and you sag over your straw like you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

He sees you bend over your work with your water bottle next to you, not having the energy to take your usual gym break. Instead, you nap.

You’re drained of money, drained of strength, drained of hope.

He sees you lock your door, and then sweep up the splintered wood after your brother breaks it down. He sees you block the door with a bookshelf, and then collect all of your books off the floor after your brother shoves it aside anyway. You try everything, from nailing the door shut to setting a burglar alarm, but you just end up having to clean up shattered windows or stand silently while your brother explains to the police what a silly misunderstanding it all is.

And then one night, the one night that Changbin has to stay late to update his inventory after his weekly supply shipment at the café, there’s a knock on his apartment door. He’s fresh out of the shower, upper half bare and a towel draped over his shoulders, one end of it clutched in his hand and scrubbing the dampness from his hair, when he swings the door open and there you are.

You’re a tortured vision in white; white t-shirt and white sweatpants, your face streaked with tears and your left eye swollen from a fresh beating, and you throw yourself into his arms like you’ve known him forever.

He’s stunned, panicking, desperate to get you out of his apartment, but he’s a weak, weak man because you’re wrapped so tightly around him, your hands pressed into his back, your chest flush against his, your damp face curled into his neck, and his brain just blanks out.

The towel drops from his grasp and his arms find their way around you. Whether it’s his heart or yours that’s pounding like a jackhammer between you is unknowable, especially when he breathes in the scent of you. He knows the smell, knows it like his own home, but it’s different when it’s directly from you.

You’re weeping into his ear, trembling beneath his hands, and he’s forgotten everything he needs to hide.

“Slow down, gorgeous, I’m here.”

You crumble in his arms, sagging against his chest.

“I’m here.” His hands smooth delicately over your hair, mindful of the abrasions that you’ve suffered, and his strong arms keep you on your feet.

“I need help, Binnie.” You weep, pulling back ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter open and it’s like the entire ocean is inside them. “Please, Changbin, I—”

And then it’s too late.

Your gaze drifts over his shoulder, and there they are.

The walls are covered. Printouts, pictures, drawings. You sipping your smoothie in your kitchen, you working at your computer in your home office, you tugging a shirt over your head, the lace of his favorite red bra peeking out between the hem of the shirt and the skin of your stomach, you doing your hair in your bedroom mirror.

You.

It’s too late. He can’t get a word out before you bolt.

Gone in a second, terrified by the man you had run to for safety, disappearing into the night.

You pull all your curtains closed after that. The lights in your house are always off, a for sale sign goes up in your yard. You exist in the darkness, hiding in the shadows, suffering alone.

His heart breaks as he feels you slip further and further through his fingers.

You’re still hurting, still being hunted. Your brother keeps coming, keeps attacking you, keeps stealing from you. He’ll take the money from your house, too, Changbin already knows it.

It makes him angry.

He’s so angry, he hasn’t touched his camera in weeks. He’s so angry, he hasn’t swiped an article of clothing to hold onto the scent of you in ages. He’s so angry that your own brother has treated you so badly, that now all he does is watch.

Because you won’t be getting any more bruises.

You are so scared and tired of your brother’s treatment of you that you ran to Changbin’s apartment for the first time in your life, just to seek protection. You trusted him. You wanted his help. You knew he would protect you.

A million pictures of you aren’t worth that gift.

So he watches.

And waits.

And then, one night, just as the sun has disappeared beneath the neighborhood houses behind yours, your brother pulls up in the driveway. He stumbles out of his car, jerking with nerves, and pounds your door down, disappearing inside your home.

Each crash fills Changbin with rage. Each shatter, each groan of damaged belongings sets his blood on fire, until he’s across the street and on your porch. He finds the key where you’ve left it in the hanging pot and pushes the door open, skillfully dodging the creaky floor panels in the entryway.

The desperate grate of your brother’s voice worms into his ears like a venom, and the ensuing whimpers and cries from you settle in his stomach with painful weight. He rounds the corner and finds you there, your back pressed to the wall, your brother’s hands around your throat.

Your face is red from strangulation, your eyes wide and reddened from burst blood vessels, trails of crimson streaming from your scalp. Your brother is screaming about the money you owe him, money that he’s expected to find by some miracle after having already pilfered your paycheck earlier this week.

And then, just as your eyes begin to roll, you catch sight of Changbin. For a second, you freeze, and it’s fear in your expression as you behold the barista that you thought you knew, creeping through the shadows of your dark living room.

But then your brother’s other hand smacks against the split skin of your cheek, and your expression changes.

Changbin sees it.

You’re staring at him in relief, your mouth forming desperate pleas for help, tears spilling down your face in a sudden moment of vulnerability.

His chest clenches.

At your next whimper, he has your brother by the collar, hurling him backwards. At the thump of your feet hitting the floor, the rest of your body falling in a heap, his hands are fisted in your brother’s shirt, shoving him out of the house.

Your brother is spluttering and shouting in confusion and protest, while you’re coughing and gagging behind them.

There’s only a few seconds where your brother attempts to fight back, his wired muscles throwing stabbing punches into the dark at Changbin’s face, but he doesn’t land a single one. Instead, a deliberate blow strikes his jaw, knocking him back. Another hammers against his eye, and he sprawls in the grass, gasping for air.

You’re on your feet then, following them out of the house, standing on your porch as you watch through stinging eyes.

While your brother is stunned, Changbin turns and sees you, and he freezes. He knows he’s scared you. He knows he’s crossed every line of acceptable social interaction, and that you caught him red handed. He says your name, a whisper into the night, and your gaze shifts to him.

You’re thinking, panicking, mind no doubt tracing back through the evidence of his intrusion plastered all over his walls, the sanctity of your home utterly violated by his undetected presence.

While you try to make up your mind about it, Changbin can’t breathe.

But at this point, your brother can. “What the hell?” He gasps, breath clouding above his face. “This is none of your business, asshole.” He’s up on one knee then, cupping his face and getting his wits back.

Changbin whips around to face him, his fists once more clenched in fury. “Touch her again and I swear to god—”

“Binnie.”

Your voice is a song in his ears and his head snaps back around to you. Your hands wrap around his still tight fist, your eyes peering up at him in earnest. You’re leaning into his arm, begging for safety, and he sees the blood that spills over your lips.

You’re hurt, you need medical attention, and you’d rather be with him than with your brother.

“I’m gonna take you to the hospital, okay?” Changbin whispers, and when you nod weakly, he brings his hand to your temple. You’re hot, feverish, under his touch. “Will you let me do that, gorgeous?”

“You’re not taking her anywhere.” The voice is an inch away, and your hands grip Changbin’s bicep.

He reacts on impulse, shoving your brother away from himself, away from you, and can only watch as the larger man stumbles out onto the street, illuminated by the yellowish glow of headlights. And then it’s like that scene from Mall Cop—one minute he’s there, the next he’s been plowed out of sight like a sliding transition in a Star Wars movie.

You don’t scream.

You don’t cry.

Both of you gasping in shock at the completely unintentional turn of events, Changbin feels you press yourself into his side, your weak and bleeding arms winding around his back. He can’t believe you’re there, trusting him, clinging to him, but he holds you like you’ll disappear if he lets go.

He needs to take you to the hospital, let them figure out why you’re coughing up blood, check your bones for new breaks, but right now your face is nestled against his throat and he can’t move.

“You’re still such a creep.” Your broken voice whimpers, but your hand tightens in his shirt.

He could cry with relief. You’re not letting go. “I know,”

He gets a grumble in response. “You stole my favorite sweater.”

Not even the flashing red and blue lights speeding around the corner can take this moment from him. “I’m sorry, gorgeous. I’ll give it back.”

“Promise me you’ll burn the pictures.”

“All except the ones that incriminate your brother.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

Comment a request to be tagged for Hyunjin's next week!

Let me know what you thought of this one! Thank you all for reading!

PART 2 INFO

tag list:

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella @babyphotos0325 @softfor-svtptg @furfoxsake22 @tubelightanyaa @kayleefriedchicken @rockstarkkami @sp1derst0rrr @allenajade-ite @naraportokala @its-stayville-forever

#skz #fanfic #stray kids #horror #seo changbin #changbin #seo changbin skz #seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #changbin fluff #changbin angst #changbin crack #crack!horror #seo changbin fluff #seo changbin angst #changbin x you #changbin crack!horror #seo changbin x you

143 notes · View notes

postoctobrist · 9 days ago

Note

I dreamt that the TrashFuture podcast had hired me to write software for them. Lamentably I am employed to write automotive software and so that it what was expected of me.

Y'all were so excited by the idea of making The Official TrashFuture The Podcast Car that I was getting inundated with change requests and I was buckling under the stress.

Milo, being the resident petrol-head with an appreciation for affordable cars, who didn't want this to become The Homer decided to step in and help prevent scope creep.

He said to ignore all the other requests, since he knew better than everyone else what was needed, we don't need to design a whole car, it can be an aftermarket modification. All I need to do is focus on The Cussy.

I’m enjoying this trend of telling me about your dreams

55 notes · View notes

pulpfanfiction · 6 days ago

Text

not to be gay on main but i dont think i have ever felt more in love with someone than watching my bf get just as excited as me about how cool a bunch of old automotive technical manuals we found today are

55 notes · View notes

seat-safety-switch · 4 months ago

Text

There's two reasons to do a cross-brand engine swap: because you're cheap, or because you're filled with spite. I am, of course, both. For years, forum people have become enraged from literally any prospect of putting a Dodge motor in a Chevy, or vice versa. Such an act is sacrilege. It taints the noble purity of the Chevrolet race, and its meticulous assembly by a group of guys who were high as hell on synthetic drugs and kept forgetting which way to bolt the windshield on. I really like making those folks, in particular, very mad.

To leverage my disgusting amounts of knowledge about everything automotive in the pursuit of "those things probably shouldn't go together" is basically the pinnacle of excitement. Why not jam a Rolls-Royce geared high-bypass turbofan from a 747 into a Jaguar XJ6? Does it even fit? How long can you run it for before it snaps your tack-welded motor mounts off the frame and starts flying down the expressway, clobbering Bronco Sports and blasting tollbooths into a fine mist of wood powder?

Of course, as with everything else in my life, I have to be pragmatic. What really drives me to do these swaps is the fact that I have a large collection of motors lying around, and I don't care too much what it says on the valve cover before underhand-lobbing it into the nightmare project that I need to drive to work tomorrow. Making people mad is just a bonus, even if it is a really good one. Soviet diesel engine it is. I'll run it on kerosene, that'll really show Diesel Ivan at the gas station.

Does the average person care, though? Does it impress them? No. I stopped explaining myself to them years ago. They don't think it's weird at all that a Plymouth could hold a Ford engine. In fact, they are surprised that it was ever the opposite case. They're just engines, right? Plymouth got them from the engine store, same as Ford.

In fact, the more we talk about this competition-of-swaps, the stranger it seems to my rational side that I have embarked upon a campaign of harassing the very same folks who could empathize with my odd hobby the most. Just don't ask a professional to psychoanalyze me. Those folks get real competitive when they find a weird thinkin' problem, too, and then I have to crawl out of my therapist's office while they exchange gunfire before I can get to my car and escape. Good reason to swap in a faster engine, come to think of it.

98 notes · View notes

steviewashere · 9 months ago

Text

The Great Cornholio

Rating: General CW: Implied/Referenced Animal Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Animal Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Mild Angst, Fluff, Steve Harrington is Impulsive, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Soft Steve Harrington, Soft Eddie Munson, Adopting a Dog, Beavis and Butthead Reference, Cornholio the Dog, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Domestic Steddie, Domestic Fluff

🐕—————🐕 There’s a disrupting clatter of noise coming from the front door of their apartment. Eddie stops immediately what he’s been doing in the kitchen—wiping down counters and putting away the dry dishes from the rack—and listens in. Shushing. Scraping? And then…a whine.

“Steve?” He calls out.

All of the sounds immediately stop. Unnervingly so.

“Uh…Steve, you alright?” He calls out again. “You didn’t get into another fight again, did you? I think we’re out of rubbing alcohol, so it’ll be a bitch to disinfect any wounds you got.”

Subtle shuffling comes closer to the open doorway of the kitchen. Eddie turns to look. Steve’s standing in his work clothes, vest over his polo, jeans straight down his legs, shoes still laced. He’s flushed bright red. Nervously fiddling with his fingers. He shifts from foot to foot and peers up at Eddie through his eyelashes. Mirth glints at him.

“What’d you do,” Eddie sighs.

Steve smiles at him. All his teeth. Squinting his eyes so hard, they nearly look closed. “I got us something,” he giddily states, “you’re going to love it.”

Eddie gestures for him to get whatever this thing is. And waits, dish gloves up to his elbows, barefoot and in his pajamas, half-tired, not showered. He had a day off from work, the automotive shop around the corner, so what if he does chores and nothing else? But he’s especially exhausted. Just wants to relax. And knows, whatever Steve’s done, will tarnish all of that.

A couple minutes later, Steve comes back towards the kitchen. Vest gone, shoes off. Hands behind his back. Squirming left and right as his grip subtly—or not so subtly—changes. Slowly, carefully, he reveals the contents of his hands. And staring back at Eddie is a dog.

It’s a smaller breed—whatever breed it is. Soft looking, white fur. Ears that fold over like airplane wings. Big, brown, bug-like eyes. Pink nose, straight tail, short legs, and six toes on the front left foot. The dog’s cute, Eddie can objectively notice. It doesn’t mind being held, considering how Steve’s holding it close to his belly like it’s a toddler. And it’s not barking at him, like most dogs do the first time they’re introduced to him. This one’s rather mellow. Very relaxed. Though, that may just be from nerves.

“I got a dog,” Steve says. His voice goes a little high with his happiness. Smile bright and big and unmistakeable. Eyes excited and warm.

Eddie already knows he won’t turn this away.

“I can see that,” he states. “Is it our dog or—“

“His name is Cornholio. Like in Beavis and Butthead. And I’ve got all the supplies in the trunk,” Steve begins explaining, barreling over Eddie’s question. Okay, so it’s definitely ours, Eddie notes. “Cornholio here is housebroken. He knows how to sit and lay down. He’ll be sleeping with us in bed, I’m not making him lay in a dog bed by himself. And I’m going to buy him his own turkey to eat for dinner. And—“

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie interrupts. Immediately, Steve stops talking. And his smile fades. Looking more like…Well, it’s in bad taste, but he looks like a kicked puppy. The longer Eddie takes to collect himself, though, Steve appears as if his entire family has been slaughtered in front of his eyes. Eddie rubs a, now gloveless, hand between his eyebrows. “We didn’t talk about getting a dog? What led you to do this? How much did he cost? Have you factored in the possibility that either of us could be allergic?” Calm down, he scolds himself. He takes a quick, steadying breath. “I’m not…We can keep the dog, Stevie. But I—I’m not prepared for a dog.”

Steve cradles the dog closer to himself. Looks down at the top of his head and kisses the fur between his ears. Cornholio looks up with his big brown eyes, his tail wags as much as it can where Steve’s holding him, and he licks the underside of Steve’s jaw. “I just thought it would be nice to have a little buddy around,” he murmurs lowly, a little sad. “There was an ad for the humane society in the newspaper this morning and I thought, y’know, what if I looked after work? Just for the shits and giggles of it, but then I saw him.

“And he’d been there for three years. He used to be left alone at his old house for weeks on end. Just left with scraps and the bag of dog food. Whatever he could find. He was lonely and sad and…Somebody finally called for him to be taken in.” Steve shrugs as much as he can with the weight of the dog between his arms. Looks up to Eddie, his eyes just as big as Cornholio’s, wet and tired. Meekly, he adds, “He made me think of myself. When…When my parents would just leave me all alone.”

Oh, Eddie thinks. His chest feels heavier. Head foggier. Eyes stinging.

“And you wanted to give him a better chance than what you had,” Eddie says, though he meant it like a question. It comes out a little breathy, too much of a realization to be anything more than that. Steve nods slowly, gently.

“He was only $50. I’ll return him if it’s a prob—“

“No, no,” Eddie rushes. He forces himself to move forward. Stand close and in Steve’s space. He peers down at the top of Cornholio’s little head, his tantalizingly soft fur. So, he scratches his nails over the baby’s scalp. He peers up at Steve again. At his impossibly sadder eyes, just a second away from bursting into tears. His free hand comes up and cups Steve’s left cheek. Thumb gently swiping over his cheekbone. “I think that you picked a good one, sweetheart. This baby’s adorable,” he coos. “Look, he’s even got my eyes.”

Steve scoffs. “Your eyes? He’s my son!”

Eddie hums. “Actually, he’s our son,” he murmurs. Smiles small to himself at the way Steve preens at those words. “And his name is Cornholio, like in Beavis and Butthead. And he’s going to eat turkey with us every night. And he can sleep between us in bed to ward off our nightmares, yeah?”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

He shrugs. “No, maybe just a little scrambled. But…I’m also an impulsive person, so this matters none.” Cornholio’s fur is incredibly soft under his hand. And he looks up at the two of them with all the gentleness in the world. And, maybe, Eddie thinks he could die happy here and now.

Steve leans in a little closer. Rests his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder as they both peer down at the little white dog. “Huh,” he mutters, “I guess he does have your eyes.”

“See?” Eddie asks softly, grinning. “Match made in heaven. How about we take him on a walk? Show him our picnic spot?”

Abruptly, Steve gasps. “Oh my gosh!” He crows, “We can take him on our picnics with us! And he can meet all the dogs at the park! And he can lay in our laps! And—“

Chuckling, Eddie swipes a soothing hand down Steve’s back. He’s bouncing in place, probably five seconds away from lift-off into the ceiling. He kisses Steve’s temple. Murmurs, “I’ll make some sandwiches, alright? Go get his collar and leash.”

Steve positively squeals.

And Eddie was right. This does ruin the plans he had on his day off, but he figures this is better. Way better than anything he could’ve done for himself. There was no way he was going to turn down the opportunity to see his boy happy.

🐕—————🐕

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #they get a dog #mild angst #mostly fluff

148 notes · View notes

plooto · 1 year ago

Text

⋆·˚ ༘ * blinker fluid . ft. katsuki bakugo

synopsis . all he ever did was use you, why can’t you see that?!

warnings . nsfw . pining , childhood friends to lovers ! au , aged up ! au , quirkless ! au , toxic ! cheater ! kirishima is an ahole ( sorry not sorry ) , ( ooc katsuki ? , ) cursing , crying !! , cheating !! , more than friend ! bakugo , tons of emotion , slight overuse of pet names , piv sex , fingering , body worship , size kink if you squint , multiple orgasms , slight breeding kink , clingy ! small ! slight bimbo ! reader , slight possessiveness at the end.

words . 6k

notes . 6k i think is my longest yet.. thank you guys for all your support !

“ katsuki! you were right! ” you rushed up to him. sparing you an uninterested glance and a half hearted laugh,

“ i’m always right, what this time? ” you shook his arm,

“ c’mon kats, i’m your favorite person! the least you could do is pretend to be excited when i am.. ” he fully turned to you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, playful smile on his face.

“ tell me then, what’s got you so excited? ” you take a moment, eyes widening at his undivided attention. you open your mouth, your heart beating hard in your head brought you back to reality.

“ k- kiri likes me! you were right, he’s taking me on a date tomorrow night. ” the soft smile that once graced his featured disappearing. he stayed looking at you, heart growing heavy, waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to discredit yourself, to say something, anything.

“ why aren’t you saying anything? ” he blinked once, then twice. recentering himself in the position that he put himself in. your smile faded, being replaced with worry.

“ good for you, yn ” he nodded, you smiled and looked at your phone before saying that you were running late.

“ good for you.. ” he said bitterly. this time he knew it was to convince himself.

he thought to himself, trying to figure out when these dammed feelings started to arise.

“ eiji! do you want to go to the store with me? ” you asked, double checking the shopping list you made on your phone.

“ go by yourself, pretty, i have to finish some things here. ” you nodded, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on his cheek.

“ do you want me to pick anything up from the store for you? ” you asked, placing an small hand on his arm. which he lifted and rubbed the back of his head, thinking,

“ uh, yeah could you stop at that store i always like and pick something up for desert? ” you nodded writing it down. he looked down at his phone, getting a message. “ oh, also some blinker fluid, i checked your car this morning and it’s low. ” you nodded again, picking up your keys and waved bye to eiji.

it was taking you forever, time you didn’t have. you still had to run to kiri’s store and get his desert for him and make dinner when you got back but you couldn’t find the blinker fluid for your car. remembering that your boyfriend had things to do you pressed some buttons on your phone to call katsuki instead. not even two rings later, he answered,

“ what do you want? ” you heard his gruff voice, you felt your face flush and then nervous from being lost in the store that you spend the most of your time in.

“ um, i need help ” you confessed, the next moment was filled with objects shuffling and keys jingling.

“ where are you ” you stuttered for a moment,

“ i’m at the store..i can’t find this thing for my car. ” you explain, everything on the other end of the phone coming to a halt. “ katsuki? ”

“ what are you looking for.. ” he asked, the tone in his voice made you nervous

“ um..blinker fluid? ” you heard the door slam shut, but no outdoor noises.

“ hah?? ” you looked around the automotive section frustrated, a hand running through your hair.

“ prin- how long have you been looking for it? ” you checked the time, distressed from how long you’ve been in this store,

“ um, almost an hour.. ” you hear something break in the background, “ kats? what’s wrong? ”

“ you’ve been played sweetheart. there’s no such thing as blinker fluid. ” you feel the muscles in your face release, but your eyebrows never giving way.

“ w- what? ” you tilt your head to the side,

“ shitty hair lied to you yn, i’m on the way just stay there. ” you mumbled a small ‘okay’ and waited in the store,

katsuki made it to the store in nearly record time, probably breaking every driving law in the book.

“ i can’t believe you fell for that, ” he huffed, you chalked it up as fatigue from running. you pouted at him, watching as he shook his head and used a large hand to push the hair off his sweaty face, followed with pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face, giving you a clear view of his chiseled abdomen that he’s been working on since middle school. you looked away embarrassed that you were staring at another man, nonetheless the best friend of your long term boyfriend..

“ blinker fluid ” he scoffs, looking around before looking back down at you, “ why’d you call me instead of your boyfriend? ” he asked,

“ he said he had to do some things, so i didn’t want to bother him.. ” you tell him, a softer pout following.

“ call him. ” he told you, your head whips to look up at him,

“ wh- i just told you he said he would be bus- ”

“ call. him. ” he said, narrowing his eyes at you, you gave him the meanest glare you could muster before listening. you pull out your phone and click the call button,

“ speaker. ” you looked up at him and pressed the button, letting out a breath before he answered.

“ yn, what is it? ” he’s out of breath, you bring the phone closer so you don’t have to yell,

“ um i couldn’t find the thing you told me.. ” you said trying to hear what he was doing in the background,

“ huh? ask one of the fuck, ask one of the employees, i have to shit, i have to go. ” he doesn’t wait for a response before he hangs up

“ see? busy. ” you say waving your phone as if he didn’t just hear it for himself. his arms are around his chest now, an unfamiliar look on his face, “ what is it? why are you looking at me like that ” you tilt your head to the side

“ eiji is a good man, he loves me. ”

“ all he ever did was use you, why can’t you see that? he’s cheating on you, yn. ” your eyebrows pull together, confused you take a step back.

“ what? n- no,..he was probably working out. ”

“ i’ve worked out with him before, that ” he points to the phone, “ was not working out. ” you let out a half laugh, but he wasn’t amused.

“ that’s not funny katsuki.. ” he didn’t say anything, just looked at you, and finally it hit you:

he wasn’t joking.

your heart sped up, creeping up to your throat, you felt your throat close,

“ check his location, he doesn’t have work out equipment at home right? ” you shook your head. you unlocked your phone again, going to his location and seeing he was still at home.

“ no..he loves me, he- he wouldn’t ” you shook your head, shaking out the heart aching thoughts that plagued your mind. hands made it to your shoulder and you looked up at katsuki. he lifts his hand and you flinch, he pauses before wiping the tears streaming down your face

“ finish your shopping, and i’ll drive you. ” you shook your head, finally lifting your hand to wipe your tear clad face.

“ it’s okay, i- i can do it alone..thanks for helping kats. ” he scans your face, your warm puffy face.

“ yn.. ” you give him a smile before pulling your shopping list off and crossing out blinker fluid out,

“ thank you for your help katuki, but i still have dinner to make.. ” you told him, giving him a hug before going about your day.

‘ i shouldn’t have told her.. ’ katsuki thought to himself, ‘ at least she knows now.. ’ you walked away from him, hand coming up to wipe the tears still staining your face. and he just watched. that was all he did, for the past three years all he’s done is watch as you got hurt over and over again.

you knew he could be cheating on you, you’ve known for too long, but he’s so sweet to you you couldn’t think it possible.

“ i’m home. ” you said, placing the groceries down and taking your shoes off. kirishima comes to you from the table, placing a kiss on your cheek,

“ did you find everything? ” you looked up at him, remembering what happened in the store. you smiled,

“ i tried, the employee said someone bought the last jug of the uh, blinker fluid. ” he nodded, patting your head and taking the bags from you,

“ i ordered some takeout, i’m kind of tired and i have to get up early tomorrow. ” you pursed your lips together.

“ oh..um okay.. ” you walked with him to his kitchen and out up the groceries as he plopped on the couch, engrossed with whatever was going on in his phone.

“ i’m going to jump in the shower, call me when the food gets here? ” you nodded giving him a small smile and turning to the groceries. once the bathroom door shut and the water came on you leaned against the counter, feeling numb from everything that took place today. you quickly put up the rest of the groceries and made your way to his bedroom. you both had your own place, but you tended to crash at his place more often than you were at your own.

you found yourself walking to the bedroom, his phone on the charger as he showered. you fought with yourself, trying to convince him to leave his phone alone. that you trusted him and he loved you and wouldn’t do a thing to hurt you.

his phone buzzed.

you lost the battle with yourself. you sat down and pulled his phone to your chest. you knew his password, he hasn’t changed it in years..you typed in the day you guys started dating and read the newest message

ashido : i had fun tonight, can’t wait to see you again <3

your heart dropped, creating an empty space where it used to be. you opened the message and scrolled, finding a message asking if she could come over around the time you were leaving for the grocery store.

you shook your head, it just had to be true, didn’t it?

you heard the shower turn off and you were brought back to the situation. marking the last message as unread and closed the app before going to photos to scroll for something to cover up.

“ sweetness? what ya doin over there? ” you looked up at him, a smile gracing your face,

“ i was looking for that photo i asked you to delete of me the other day, the one with noodles shooting out of my nose? ” you giggled, seeing him smile after you,

“ i couldn’t delete that one, that’s one of my favourites! ” he joked, you shook your head, locking his phone and hearing the doorbell ring,

“ oh that must be the food. ” he said,

“ get dressed, i’ll get it. ” you walked out and opened the door, giving the driver a tip before locking the door back.

the next day, kiri said that he had to stay late for this new proposal that his bosses have assigned to him.

he told you to not wait up for him, indicating that he’s going to be home really late, or not at all.

it was already late and you were tired of sitting at home, doing nothing. you still had a good amount of energy that you haven’t used, so you grabbed your keys and went to get takeout, opting to go to bakugo’s.

you called and asked what he wanted and then made your way to his place.

“ why do you drive so slow? ” you shrugged not looking to entertain his smart mouth. he shifted to give you room to walk in with the takeout. the two of you settled in his couch, watching a show you’ve been dying to watch. stuffing your face you watched as the two main characters finally confessed their feelings that they’ve had for each other since high school with interest.

beside you, katsuki looked down at you, feeling the utmost domestic in this moment with you. you leaned forward to grab your drink and you leaned too far, loosing your balance. katsuki’s arms reached out and looped around your waist, pulling you back, you landing on his side.

“ thank you, ”

“ hold yourself up dumbass. ” but the notion of letting you go went right over his head, you looked up at him, through your lashes. his eyes glanced down at your lips, and for a fraction of a second he knew this was a bad idea, but only for a fraction. one of his hands moved to cup your cheek and he leaned down to you, connecting your lips in a chaste kiss. it was short but you felt every bit of it, his lips were soft and his hands gentle as the arm around your waist pulled you closer ever so slightly. you parted, his eyes searching yours for any disagreement, any sign to tell him to stop.

there wasn’t.

in an instant he pulled you to straddle his lap, arm pulling you flush against him, leaning in to close the all too large gap between you he captured your lips in a fiery kiss. a kiss that told all his underlying feelings for you. all that he wanted to confess to you. how he loved the way your eyes sparkle when you talked about your stupid animal crossing island, or when you threw your head back way too far while laughing. he pulled you even closer, as if you were not chest to chest already. katsuki’s brows knit together, focused on feeling every inch of you through the passionate kiss. you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hand falling down to your hip, pushing and pulling you on his lap, breathless you pull away from him and he turns his attention to your unmarked collarbone, but not before leaving gentle but passion filled kisses down your neck, goosebumps trailing behind him. you gripped his shirt, a soft moan falling from your pretty lips. finding the spot that makes your knees weak he pulls you up higher, brushing your clothed sex over his.

“ katsuki~ ” you whine, he freezes,

‘ what the hell did he just do. ’ he curses at himself as he pulls away, hands coming off of you as if you burned him. you sat on his lap dumbfounded, body on fire from the heated session you just took part in. your chest rose and fell quickly, much faster than it was before. he couldn’t bring his eyes to meet yours, as much as he wanted to continue, to show you all the pent up feelings he had for you, he couldn’t. he reached up to pull your arms from around his neck and held your wrists in between you two, effectively putting some distance between the you of two.

“ i think you should go home. ” he said hoarsely, as if he didn’t want to say it. you blinked, a wave of hurt taking the place of bliss that had entranced you just moments ago.

“ w- what? ” you voice was nearly nonexistent. you lifted your hand towards him, to see his face but his hand shot out to grab yours,

“ leave yn..before we make another mistake, ” before i make another mistake. he turned to you, revealing his vermilion hues, ones that no longer held the hunger he just displayed to you. you sat back, looking down before taking a breath and getting off his lap, nearly falling from your knees being in such an awkward position for so long.

he didn’t spare you another glance, hand coming up to cover his burning cheeks. you took one last look at him before making yourself scarce to your childhood friend.

you stayed at your own apartment that night, putting your phone on the charger before shutting it down. your heart pounded in your chest, the heat of bakugo still lingering after the drive..you pressed a finger to your lips, puffed and swollen. you pulled the covers up to your chin, curling into a ball before taking the long path to sleep.

you woke up late, assuming so from the positioning of the sun in your window. you turned to lay flat on your back, stretching from being balled up all night. you let out a sigh, the scenes of last night pouring back into your mind. you sat up quickly, regretting the quick action immediately. you held your head as you reached over to grab your phone. turning it on you found messages from your boyfriend and one missed call from bakugo.

you ignored the missed call and opened the messages from your boyfriend.

my heart : hey are you okay?

my heart : call me when you see this

my heart : i’m going to bed, love you.

you shook your head as you read the messages over.

“ i really am blind. ” thinking back to his lax attitude when you were on his phone, as if he was not committing infidelity in your bed hours earlier. you were one to talk, weren’t you? making out with his best friend with no intention of stopping.. you sighed, taking a shower and getting dressed to go to kirishima’s. you unlocked the door, opening your mouth to greet him when you realized a pair of shoes you didn’t recognize in your spot. closing your mouth you tucked your keys into your purse, setting your purse down on the table by the door and silently sliding your shoes off. you walked around for a moment, not before you heard a grunt from the bedroom.

your heart pounded, almost too hard, you were sure he would hear it if you opened your mouth even a little. you made your way to the bedroom, the shaking bedframe becoming louder by the second. you wanted to walk out, pretend you never came here, pretend you were still in bed and didn’t get up until the sun went down, but you couldn’t..you didn’t want to, as much as you wanted to run away you didn’t.

you pushed the door open, the lewd sounds reached you first, your eyes falling behind to adjust to the darkness of the room. the scene playing out in front of you was suffocating, watching your long term boyfriend pressed up against another in the most intimate way. loosing your grip on the doorknob, the light from the living room alerted the two,

“ oh fuck, yn! ” the pink haired girl didn’t scream, didn’t bother pulling the covers to cover herself, just smirked at you. kirishima stumbled, tripping over the covers to pull his boxers up his thighs. you stared blankly, you mind telling your body to turn and leave, with droopy eyes, you made your way to your shoes and slid them on, hurried footsteps behind you.

“ yn wait, i promise i can explain. ” you snapped out of your trance, you turned to him, tears starting to form,

“ explain what kirishima? ” you said, shrugging at him, eyebrows pulled in defeatedly. you waited for some excuse or lie to come out of his mouth,

“ well? say something. yell, scream, say something! anything dammit! ” you pleaded for him to say something to make you think that he wasn’t as bad as he made himself out to be, anything at all.. tears flowing freely now, your throat closed tighter and tighter the longer you were in his presence.

you hiccuped, looking past him to see the girl he was just balls deep in.

“ sorry to interrupt. ” you barely made out. the overwhelming feeling of rue washing over you. you turned back to kirishima, raising a heavy arm to gesture to the girl leaning against the bedroom door “ someone’s waiting for you.. ” you added heavy-heartedly. kirishima hung his head, sweat dropping down from his forehead. turning around you pulled on the door handle and shut it behind you. you got in your car, turned it over and ignored the figure of kirishima in your rear-view mirror.

you didn’t know where you drove to, your limbs knew where to go and you were just along for the ride.. you made it to your destination and got out, barely remembering to lock your car and started walking.

you weren’t sure when it started raining but when the cold sky water began to seep through your jacket you finally felt all of the emotions you were trying to block out.

as every rain drop hit you, two tears came in their place, your lip trembled. you shook your head, trying to fight it, you couldn’t. your chest heaved, breaths becoming shorter and shorter, your legs gave out from under you, knees slamming to the ground you screamed. trying to let it out, let out everything that has went wrong, everything you realized wasn’t as it seemed: when he’d stay out later than before, when he stopped showing you affection, when he stopped being your boyfriend..

eyes blurry you picked up your phone, not being able to see you held the power button, telling your phone a short task.

watching some random videos on youtube as he ate his favorite spicy noodles, his phone rang. seeing your name pop up he finished chewing his noodles

“ katsukii ” you cried on the other side of the phone,

“ yn? ” there’s a pause, it’s raining and your breathing erratically,

“ kat- he- i- it hurts.. ” you wailed, he balled his hands into a fist.

“ where are you? ” no response, “ stay there, i’ll find you, okay? ” he grabs his keys and a jacket for you and rushed to his car, sliding away from the call screen to maps. you managed to share your location with him, coughing and sneezing as he drove with white knuckles around the steering wheel.

putting the car in park he ran to where you map marker was and saw you, cursing he kneeled down to you, placing a warm hand on your cold cheek, he took his jacket and draped it over you,

“ hang onto me, okay? ” feeling your weak nod he lifted your arm over his shoulder and hooking the other under your knees, he lifted you up with ease. settling you into the passenger seat of his car he buckled your seatbelt and taking off your wet jacket, he places his jacket more comfortably around your shoulders. getting in the driver seat he turned up the heat.

arriving back to his house, he helps you out of the vehicle. he brought you to his room, stepping out after giving you some sweatpants with a warm hoodie as he warmed up a towel for you. you stood in the middle of the room, arms by your side, not in the sleeves. he took your hair and wrapped the towel around it, the warmth snapping you out of your daze, helping him slide your arms through the sleeves. leading you to the kitchen he turned to you,

“ do you want something to eat? ” you shook your head slowly, he sighs, resting a hand on the now damp towel.

“ i’m going to make you something to eat. ” lifting you to place you on the counter. you numbly watch him move around the kitchen, picking up various pots and ingredients.

“ katsuki.. ” you muttered, wiping your face with your fingers, he turned and look at you and you pushed yourself off the counter, and walked to him. he looked down at you quizzically and you ignored it, you tried to stop the tears falling from your eyes but they wouldn’t. you wrap your arms around him and just let it out. bakugo looks down at you, frozen unaware of what to do. he pulls his arms out of your grasp, heart hammering in his chest, and wraps them around your waist.

“ it’s okay, let it out. ” he runs a hand up and down your back, opting to make you something when you calmed down, he lifted you into his arms, taking you back to his room. he looked down at you, your cheek against his shoulder, eyebrows relaxed, and lips lightly parted. he kneeled down on his bed, placing you as gently as he could before lifting the covers over you, taking the towel from around your head. hearing your breathing slow, soft snores took the place of hiccups and ragged breaths. he sighed, getting up to clean up his kitchen he felt your hand grab his,

“ don’t leave me, ” your lip quivered, he bit his lip going to tell you he’d be right back, “ please, don’t leave me.. ” he gave in,

“ alright pretty. ” you dropped his hand and he walked to the other side of the bed, relieving himself of his outside clothes and putting on a pair of shorts and a tshirt. pulling the covers back just enough for him to climb in, he settled in next to you.

his arms came to engulf you, turning you over to rest your head on his chest, rubbing your back as he did before. your soft sniffles fill the quietness of the room.

“ you feeling better pretty girl? ” he felt you nod into his chest, cuddling closer to him. “ are you comfortable? ” you didn’t reply, just shifted your legs, taking the hand from your back, he lifted your leg to rest over his hip. you sighed contentedly, as he pushed a warm hand under his hoodie, resting it on your back. you shifted, getting uncomfortable again,

“ what’s wrong? ” you wanted to shake your head, tell him nothing, but bakugo knew you better than that. you bit your lip before pulling your leg off of his, turning around, holding onto his fingers. he laid still, waiting for you to position yourself before wrapping an arm around your middle.

“ i’m good now.. ” you mumbled. he hummed, closing his eyes and he gently pulled you into him.

you couldn’t sleep, today being way more eventful than you wished, so many moments, so many feelings you wished you’d forget.

“ you’re still up, ” you felt his voice rumble your body.

“ i- can’t sleep. ” you mumbled,

“ hm, ” he slipped his hand under the hoodie once more, pulling you flush to him. the hand resting on your stomach glided over your soft skin gently, wrapping around you fully, he placed a kiss behind your ear, your hair now dry. he kisses lower, finding your sweet spot like muscle memory, drawing a sweet moan from your lips.

“ tell me to stop princess, tell me to stop or i- ”

“ please, katuski.. ” you begged, turning to him and resting a hand on his jaw, the fresh stubble tickling your palm.

“ fuck. ” he cursed, pulling you close and locking your lips together. biting on your bottom lip you hesitated before opening your lips to allow him in. as his tongue explored you, his hands began to wander, going lower to grope at anything he could reach.

a sting of curses fall through his pretty lips and you open your eyes to lock with his. lips parted, allowing more air through as you breathed heavily. you leaned up to him but he pulled back, you pulled back to, wanting to apologize, that you didn’t mean to go so fast.

“ let me appreciate you, doll. ” he said, laying you flat on your back and softly stripping you of the clothes he let you borrow. without another moment, he peppered kisses down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. you squirmed, pulling him up by his shoulders to connect your lips again.

“ fuck..the things you do to me ” his hand trails down your body, slotting himself between your legs.

as his hand slid over your hips, he rests his thumb on your bundle of nerves, rubbing gentle circles on it. watching you face crunch up, he leans down to suck bruising marks on your supple skin, anywhere his mouth could reach. your fingers wrapped around the hem of his shirt, tugging on it, he pulls is over his head, sitting back on his heels. you sat up with him.

running your hands over his structured chest, you planted soft kisses down his torso.

“ you’re gorgeous katsuki.. ” you mumbled against one of his pecs, looking up at him through your lashes. he groaned, reaching behind you to unclip your bra, watching it slide off your shoulders before laying you down. he pulled back to free himself of his shorts before helping you out of your underwear.

turning his affection towards you, he captured your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, fondling the other. you ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it every so slightly. releasing your nipple, he goes on to leave more love marks along your skin,

“ katsu..please s- stop teasing~ ” you whined, engulfing him in a heart stoping kiss.

“ what princess wants, princess shall get” he mumbled against your lips, “ i wanted to take it slow, but- can’t deny my pretty girl “ he spoke gently. stripping the both of you of your last articles of clothing left he pushed middle finger into your warmth, his ring finger soon following. a few quick thrusts of his hand and he already found and was abusing the spot that made you see stars. sucking one more hickey into your collarbone, katsuki let his tongue glide down your body, all the way down to where his hand met with your warm sopping hole.

“ you’re so wet for me pretty girl. ” you whined, grinding down on his hand as you ached for more. it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough..

“ more katsu, please. ” you moaned oh so sweetly. he groaned at the sound of his name falling from your lips, cursing, he moved off you, tugging his bottoms off in one swift motion, using the slick from you to rub on his dick. you watched him intently, sitting up while reaching for his member, he took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. the gesture enough to make your heart swell and bring tears to your eyes.

“ tonight’s about you baby, ” he muttered, leaning down to press kisses to the shell of your ear. rubbing the bulbous tip of his cock rub against your clit he draw another moan from your sweet lips, “ let me take care of you ” he whispered and you bit your lip, trying to hold the sinful noises back. katsuki pulled back a smidge, lining up with your entrance,

“ take a breath for me. ” and you did, with that, he pushed inside your heat ever so gently. you both moaned, and he captured your lips in his, swallowing any further noises from you as he pushed deeper inside you, you pulled away from him, pushing your head further into the pillow. you pulled your lips between your teeth, trying not to cry out from your cunt stretching to accommodate the sheer size of bakugo. peppering kisses along your cheeks, ending on your eyelids he tucked his flushed face into your shoulder as be bottomed out.

“ fuck you’re so tight.. ” he groaned, his thumb seeking purchase on your bundle of nerves. you cursed, his name falling from your lips as you clenched around him, he pulled out slowly, leaving just the tip in before pushing back into you. your eyes rolled to the back of your head,

“ feels so good~ ” you mewled. his forehead dropped into the crook of your neck, panting heavily.

“ fuck, i can’t- shit.. ” he pulled back, watching as he pulled out, a line of your arousal forming at the base of his cock. the sight nearly undoing him on the spot, he pushed back into you, circling your clit faster. you squeezed around him tighter,

“ oh~ katsuki, i- i’m ” he sped up his pace ever so slightly, watching your facial expressions as he angled his hips to hit the sweet spot inside you. your mouth opened but no sound came out,

“ come on baby, give it to me ” your body listened. clenching down on him like a vice, his hips stuttered as he fucked your through your first orgasm. slowing down to give you room to get your breath you pulled him by his shoulders for a seering kiss. he thrusted into you, more needy, wanting more of those pretty little sounds to leave your lips. he fucked into you as if it was the last thing he would do. aching with pure need your cunt pulls him in deeper, kissing all the right places you feel the coil in your stomach getting tighter. moaning into his mouth, you scratch against his back, leaving red marks as you go. he groaned into you , pulling from you to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed as the feeling of you engulfed him in pure ecstasy.

“ fuck i’m close..you gonna cum with me pretty girl? ” you nodded mindlessly, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. you’re driving him crazy, the sounds of your body reacting to him, the feeling of you against him, it was nearly too much. wrapping his arm around your shoulders he coaxes another orgasm from you. eyes seeing stars, your nails dig into his biceps.

“ katsuki!! ” your orgasm hits you hard, tumbling over the edge head first you see white.

“ fuck. ” a few more thrusts and he was joining you at that cliff, pushing himself over to meet you he stills, blowing his load deep into you. your chest heaves, body shaking as he coats your walls with his seed. he presses his forehead against yours, eyes closed as you both breathed in the passionate air that settled around the two of you. pulling out of you, you whined. he hovered above you, letting air back into your lungs.

“ i’m going to get you some water, stay up for a little bit longer. ” you shook your head, not wanting him to leave your side.

“ stay..please.. ” he nodded, pressing a kiss to your hairline, he whispered:

“ okay ” he found your underwear somewhere strewn next to the bed and pulled it up your legs, making sure his load was secure. finding his and tucking his member into his boxers he pulled the covers up to your hips as you cuddled into his chest. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flush against his.

“ mine ” he growled lowly, you smiled gently,

“ yours.. ” you mumbled, eyelids fluttering shut.

not uttering another word, he watched as you peacefully lulled off to sleep, falling into a deep peaceful slumber. nothing could ruin this moment, the girl of his literal dreams asleep in his arms after a long night together.

but something could, and it did. it was your phone ringing. groaning he shifted to turn it off, but not before looking at the caller id.

hearts and an e. kirishima. he didn’t think twice about how this would sever the life long friendship with the red haired fool before answering.

“ yn baby! ” he shouted,

“ if you want to wake her up again go right ahead, just know i have to work in the morning and i would kill you. ” he said, vermillion eyes narrowing at the phone.

“ b- bakugo?! ” he grinned, finally realizing what’s happening. with his other hand he gently rubbed your back, hoping that the yelling from the phone would not wake you. not even a little bit.

“ that’s right. now you delete her number, i’ll text you when i can come get her stuff, don’t ever call her again. and i so much as feel you thinking of her, i’ll end you. ” with that he hung up the phone and shut it down.

he would protect you.

his perfect girl.

published . august 28 , 2023

#kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima #mha smut #kirishima eijiro x reader #mha kirishima #kirishima eijirou #bnha eijiro kirishima #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha katsuki bakugou #tteokbokki 🌶️ // spicy #. character // katsuki bakugo #. character // eijirou kirishima

600 notes · View notes