#Changing your ways doesn't earn forgiveness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mortaldreams · 6 months ago

Text

breathing room (m ver.)

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: smut, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers

word count: 5.9k

warnings: sexually explicit content (MDNI), swearing, arguing, non-explicit descriptions/depictions of violence, tension of both the general and sexual sort, heeseung is a Talker

note: this is an extended (and explicit) version of my sfw story breathing room, which can still be found on my main blog stllmnstr. but this one has, you know, smut. enjoy!

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

In your mind, Lee Heeseung is nothing but a thorn in your side and an obstacle in your path as you struggle to fight your way way up the ranks in combat training. But even with your knife against his neck and flames in your eyes, he finds a way to catch you off guard.

or,

heeseung doesn't need a knockout. he just needs an in.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung is having a hard time breathing.

Partly because he’s pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him. A little bit because of the year-old rib injury he had neither the time nor patience to let heal completely.

And mostly because there’s a blade being held to his throat.

Yours, to be exact.

It’s a nice one, all things considered. Despite its lethality, it’s small, delicate almost. From this angle, he can just make out the detailing on the hilt. A series of vines wrap around each other intricately, forming kaleidoscopic patterns that extend all the way from the blade to where your fingers are wrapped around the hilt, knuckles white from the way your hand is straining.

Jesus, he thinks. If it takes that much concentrated effort for you to not let the knife press any harder against his skin, draw any blood, then maybe he should start taking the threats you throw his way like extra change a little more seriously.

Lazily, he lets his eyes trace a line from your fingers to your face. Skipping over the rather boring details of the plain black training shirt you wear, he directs his attention to the way your brow furrows in concentration instead.

Under usual circumstances, a knife to the throat would encourage all of his senses to narrow in on the sensation of metal against his pulse point. Would spur his brain to work a bit faster through all the biological fight or flight mechanisms in a last ditch attempt at survival.

But these are not usual circumstances. In fact, ever since the two of you were split into separate training cohorts a handful of months ago, this has become a rarity. And the only thing Heeseung wants to do is enjoy it a little more.

Without his self-preservation instincts kicking in, his brain has plenty of room for other things. The forgiving surface of a training mat beneath him, slightly soft where he lets his body relax into it. The unusually warm air of the training room, courtesy of a busted air conditioner that no one has gotten around to fixing just yet.

The way your hair falls around your face as you lean over him, chest still heaving from your recent bout of exertion. Your eyes are pure fire, embers and ashes and every stage in between as you sit atop his ribcage, knees on either side of his torso where you pin him to the mat.

But even as the lead trainer adds another tally underneath your name for another sparring match won, your gaze doesn’t soften. Doesn’t brighten in the afterglow of victory.

After all, victory only tastes sweet when it’s earned. Judging by the way your lips twist above him, Heeseung thinks the victory he just handed you on a silver platter must be horribly bitter.

Slowly, he raises his hands in mock surrender. There’s a half smile that looks a little too much like a smirk tugging at his lips when he says, “I concede.”

“No fucking shit.” You flick a strand of hair out of your face. Your knife presses a little tighter against his throat. “Did you even try?”

Heeseung maintains eye contact. “I think I’m doing us both a favor by not answering that one.”

Narrowing your eyes, annoyance makes itself the most prominent of your visible emotions. “Interesting choice of words from someone with a knife to his throat.”

Heeseung all but rolls his eyes. “What are you gonna do? Kill me in front of everyone?” The way he wraps sarcasm up in every syllable is almost as infuriating as the way he just let you win without putting up any semblance of a fight. “You’ve got a mean streak, princess, but that’s a bit much, even for you.”

The pressure on your blade increases, and Heeseung fights a wince as he feels it break the barrier between his skin and blood. It’s a miniscule cut, surface level at most, but he hears the threat all the same. “It’s like you want to die,” you marvel.

Heeseung’s eyes betray nothing, other than the fact that they can’t quite seem to stray from your own. Does he? No matter how deep inside himself he searches, the answer is always a resounding no. Despite the effort he put into this particular spar, or rather lack thereof, his survival instincts are still kicking. His pursuit of life is still alive and well.

So no, he doesn’t want to die. Quite the opposite in fact. But if he were to explain in plain terms that he never feels quite as alive as he does in the moments when you’ve got a knife on his throat and hatred in your eyes, he has the distinct feeling you might well and truly make good on your frequent promise to send him to an early grave.

And it’s not like he means to do it, not really. Heeseung might be a glutton for punishment these days, but there was a time when he tried to get your attention in all the regular ways. As he quickly found out, sweet words did nothing but make you roll your eyes, and his skills on a sparring mat were only as impressive as they could be used to hone your own.

He was a tool in your eyes. A means to an end as you did your best to work your way up the ranks.

You never looked at him, the person behind all the hand-to-hand combat training and advanced levels of weapon artistry.

At least not until he started annoying the ever-living shit out of you.

Back then, it had been easy. As new recruits, you were in the same training cohort, which meant you had the same daily schedules. As long as Heeseung had the chance to beat you to the last piece of toast in the dining hall at breakfast or tie the laces of your training boots together the night before an early morning, he was guaranteed at least one of your signature glares and a few choice words that would make his grandmother blush.

Granted, he knows that one-sided hatred is not a very stable foundation to build anything solid on, but he thinks of it in the same way he thinks of sparring.

He doesn’t need a knockout. He just needs an in.

A little bit of breathing room. Something that will have his partner lowering their guard, weakening their defenses just enough for him to strike. Once. Twice. Again. Over and over until the match is won and victory rests on his square shoulders.

Heeseung’s in this for the long haul, and he’s come to find that he doesn’t really care how many bruises he picks up along the way.

Across the room, the lead trainer heaves a long sigh.

“Alright, ___, that’s enough. You’ve earned your tally.” The most of anyone in today’s group. But you’re still glaring at him, and he knows it isn’t enough, not for you. “Heeseung, get it together. I expect better from you next time.”

You scoff. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Expectations are only met when people are held to them, and you doubt Lee Heeseung has even become acquainted with the concept of a consequence.

Releasing one final, sharp exhale, you pull your knife away from his throat, tucking it back into the sheath on your upper thigh in one fluid motion. Swinging your leg over his torso, you remove your body from his own, give your anger some space to breathe. Without looking back, you let your strides eat up the distance between you and the exit.

Someone – you think it must be Jay, or maybe Jungwon – tries to catch your attention on the way out, asking about a maneuver you pulled in the middle of the match. A tricky bit of knife work you’ve been perfecting over the last few weeks.

Something that looked stupid as Heeseung did nothing but stand there, as if your blade was nothing but decorative. Made you look stupid as he stood and watched with nothing but a mildly amused expression on his face.

You hate him for it. Want to show him just how pretty your knife can be stained with the deep crimson he must bleed as surely as anyone else.

Lips pulled in a taut line, you unsheath the blade at your thigh once again, this time sending it spinning with deadly accuracy towards the line of trees that skirt the outside of the training facility.

You don’t miss. You never do.

It still feels like defeat.

…..

Heeseung notices when you’re not at dinner later that evening. Despite the fact that you no longer train together, the inter-cohort spars have shifted this week's schedule. You should be here, sitting next to Jay and Jungwon, probably, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

But you’re not. And he can only think of one other place to find you.

The training hall is dark when he arrives, but Heeseung is no fool. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he sees you soon enough. Silhouette dark against the empty expanse, he has half a mind to intervene before you shred yet another punching bag to irreparable pieces. Instead, he just watches for a moment longer.

He doesn’t know what to do with the feelings that start to simmer, that always linger. Doesn’t know if it’s admiration or longing or something far worse.

But he wants to. Wants to examine them until he knows them as intimately as the back of his own hand, until he can recite them by name and express them in ways that don’t make you want to press a knife against his neck.

And he wants to keep watching, keep looking, keep noticing.

Even from a distance, even in the dark, he can read the frustration in the set of your shoulders, sense the exhaustion in the way your legs move just behind the rest of your body.

You need a break.

He needs an in.

Across the room from you, Heeseung clears his throat.

Startled, you nearly fall on your ass mid-kick before you turn to the source. It’s dark, but you know it’s him. Who else would it be?

Chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion, you finally catch your breath well enough to tell him, “If you’re not here for a rematch, then you have exactly ten seconds to get out of this building.”

A beat passes.

Another.

Heeseung exhales. “And if I am?”

Bathed in the dying glow of moonlight, you go still. “Then you better put in your best fucking effort.”

Heeseung is across the room before you can release another breath. It’s ridiculous how quickly he disarms you. And you’re caught off guard, yes, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Your knife in his hands, he throws it to the corner of the room. And then it’s just the two of you.

Heeseung spares neither time nor effort knocking your legs out from under you, sending you careening towards the mat. Screwing your eyes shut, you brace for the impact of a training mat that never comes, the back of your head cradled in a hand that serves as a barrier between you and the ground below.

It’s a complete reversal of your earlier roles as he lets his legs fall to either side of you, face inches from your own. There’s no knife on your neck, and he was gracious enough to break your fall.

But suddenly, you find your breath a difficult thing to catch regardless.

Above you, his eyes are dark. Your noses nearly touch. “This is what you wanted?” he breathes, and you feel his words as much as you hear them. They dance across your cheekbone, your lips. Have your bones feeling molten, all your hard edges malleable. “You want me to fight you like I mean it? To really fucking spar with you?”

You’ve rehearsed your answer too long to deviate, even as your mind screams with sudden uncertainties. “Yes.”

Heeseung doesn’t spare it a second thought. “Too bad.”

“Why? You have no problem f–”

“I was there, you know.” Unbidden, the hand that doesn’t hold your head falls to the bottom edge of your black training shirt. Heeseung pauses there for a moment, lets his fingers trace the seam. Something in the air shifts, tightens, waits.

Despite the way he has you caged, your hands are unbound. You could stop this, if you wanted to. Stop him.

You don’t.

Slowly, his hand begins to track an upward journey, taking your hem with it. The air of the room is warm, choked with summer heat and the odd sensations that simmer just beneath your skin, but you suppress a shiver anyway as a sliver of skin is revealed.

You know what he’s after, where his eyes fall to. It’s his fingers that hesitate. Dangle with uncertainty a hair's breadth from the scar that sits just above your hip bone.

Heeseung inhales, eyes returning to your own for a moment. They’re searching for permission you won’t give and boundaries you won’t set. If he wants to walk this tightrope, he’ll have to navigate on his own.

It’s a challenge he rises to. On his breath out, Heeseung lets his fingers find a home on the bare skin of your stomach, trace the jagged line that’s a shade paler than the surrounding area.

It’s a scar you hardly think of, one you can’t believe he remembers. Gifted to you in your early days of training, when a fellow recruit thought the best way to better his ranking was to discard the strict sparring rules set by your superiors and draw blood as a last ditch attempt at victory.

You’d still won, even with a fresh stab wound on your lower abdomen. And he’d been shown the door, like all recruits that break protocol.

“So what?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as biting as you intend it to. You curse the waver in your words. “I get one scar and suddenly I’m delicate?”

Heeseung glances up, something sincere in his eyes when he matches your gaze. His hand is still on your skin. “We’re all delicate. And we all have the scars to prove it. I’ve just developed a particular… aversion to seeing evidence of it when it comes to you.”

You’re quick to school your features into neutrality. At least on the outside, you won’t give him the satisfaction of catching you off guard. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Apparently not,” Heeseung counters. “Since I’m not the one begging for a fight.” He holds your gaze when he adds, “And I have to say, princess, if you wanted me to put you on your back, there are much easier ways to ask.”

It’s as if you’ve been submerged in hot water, as if you’ve been burned, when you push him off of you with a speed that’s almost comical. And from the way heat rises in your cheeks, you just might have been.

Your voice is dangerously low when you tell him, “You have three seconds.”

“Until what?” Heeseung knows better than to be hopeful.

“Until I find my knife and put it to good use.”

He knows better, yes. But what are limits for, if not to be pushed?

Heeseung looks up at you from where he still lies on the mat. Propping himself up on one hand, he lets his gaze trace you from head to toe. Lazily, like he has all the time in the world and none of his inhibitions. “Is that a promise?”

You do your best not to squirm underneath his wandering gaze. But evidence of your embarrassment still stains your flushed skin. And from the way his lips start to quirk upwards, you can tell that he’s enjoying this.

You’re flustered, and he loves it. Loves that when you stutter a bit, start to trip over your words, it’s by his doing.

Standing above him, your scowl is unconvincing. A stark contrast to the heat that still lingers in your cheeks and the way you can’t quite match his eye. “What is wrong with you?”

“Several things.” Below you, Heeseung bites back a smile. “Would you like an itemized list? Or would you prefer the details of my depravity in essay format? Or I could–”

“Stop it.” Your face is still flaming, but your voice has changed. It’s not shy or breathy or even biting. It’s just… frustrated. A little bit pathetic. Pleading in a way Heeseung wasn’t prepared for.

“Just stop it.” On the training mat, Heeseung goes still. “God, you do this every time. I come here and I work my fucking ass off every day, and all you do is sit there and mock me for it.” The fire is draining from your eyes. The fight is draining from your shoulders. It’s wrong. It’s not what he meant. But it’s spiraling and he doesn’t know how to stop it. “Is this…” you trail off. Deciding your pride is already torn to shreds, you ask, “Am I some kind of joke to you?”

Heeseung is standing again before you can catch your breath. Crowding your space. Or at least, he tries to. The backwards step you take maintains a steady distance.

“No.” Now he’s the one that’s scrambling, lost for words. “No,” he repeats. “Fuck, ___” he cards a hand through his hard, pushing it away from his face. “You have to know that’s not what I think of you.”

You scoff in exasperation, but your eyes are starting to shine. Reflect the unshed tears of frustration that have begun to gather in your lash line. Heeseung’s fingertips twitch with the urge to wipe them away. “How would I know that? You always do this.” Your words are coming out too fast, spilling from parted lips in the most painful river of honesty he’s ever gotten from you.

“You don’t take me seriously. You won’t fight me. You won’t do anything but lay there with that stupid fucking smile.” You’re angry. Clearly. But you’re not getting in his face, not forcing your words down his throat by invading his space.

No, instead, you’re closing in on yourself. Eyes trained on the ground, you won’t even look at him. Arms wrapping around your torso, it’s as if you want as many barriers between the two of you as possible. “All you do is tease me, because you know it makes me…” Shaking your head, your words die on your lips.

Heeseung can’t let it go so easily. “Makes you what?”

Slowly, you drag your gaze back to his. There’s no sound here, in the expanse of a barren training room. Just the mingling of your breath with his. The quiet remnants of your anger. You won’t answer his question. You can’t.

Instead, you whisper “I hate you.”

Heeseung takes a step closer. This time, you don’t retreat. He shakes his head. “You don’t.”

Feet planted, you have to tilt your chin to look up at him now. “I do–”

“You don’t,” he interrupts. “You don’t hate me, and you have no idea what to do about it.”

A spark flickers through your eyes again/ This is the kind of sparring match you’ve become familiar with when it comes to him. “Typical,” you bite, voice low. “And so fucking presumptuous, to assume that you know me better than I do.”

Heeseung presses into your space further. You can feel the heat that radiates off of his skin, that threatens to consume you whole. “I tease you, yes,” he admits. “But you’ve never been a joke to me. I take you as seriously as death, princess.”

“Don’t call me that–”

“And don’t act like you’re any better.” Features slackening, your eyes widen as he doubles down. “You want to talk about taking people seriously? Fine.” There are flames in his eyes now, raging through his dark irises. “You never looked at me twice. Never thought of me as anything but a stepping stone to make yourself better. You want me to fight you? You want to use me to test out all your fancy little tricks and improve until you’re the only one at the top?”

He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Fine. I’ll give you what you want.” Fingers sliding beneath your jaw, he cups your chin with a light, but demanding grip. Forcing your gaze upwards, you have nowhere to look but his eyes when he demands, “But look at me while I do it.”

In the span of seconds, you’re on your back again. Trapped beneath him as he pins your hands above your head, both of your wrists entrapped in the grasp of a single hand. Knees on either side of your torso, you’re effectively trapped.

Frantically, without any of your usual finesse, you begin to thrash, desperately trying to free yourself. His only response is to close his knees tighter, restricting your movement further.

Fuming, nearly immobile, you bring one knee up in a well-aimed jab. But Heeseung hasn’t been fighting all these months. Not really.

He predicts your movement with a practiced ease and stops the blow in its tracks. Spare hand wrapping around the back of your thigh, he shakes his head at you.

“Ah, ah,” he scolds, voice dangerously low. “I thought I told you to look at me.”

Beneath him, your chest heaves. “As if I’d ever listen to you.” But your eyes lock on his anyway. As if you can win this sparring match through sheer will alone.

Heeseung doesn’t say anything. Hardly so much as blinks as his hand wraps around your thigh a little more firmly. And then, he’s adjusting it.

Dragging it upwards with a scalding touch until he guides it to wrap around the base of his hips. Again, his touch is light. Something you could break free from if you really wanted to. All of his command lies in his eyes, his gaze that still burns into yours.

The space just above your cheekbones is flaming again. But this time, for a different reason.

You feel it more pointedly than you ever have, a sharp, pulsing tug that snakes down your spine and settles just beneath your navel.

You’re warm there, too. Too warm.

The clothed expanse of your inner thigh, just above your knee, rests against the outside of his hip. But it’s not enough. Does nothing to soothe the building ache, nothing to ease your mounting desperation for friction, for something.

It’s too much. It’s almost involuntary, the way you start to squirm again,. But this time, it’s not freedom you seek.

Overwhelmed with sensations you have no idea what to do with, you screw your eyes shut.

Your body feels like one big muscle, drawn taut, fraught with tension. And it’s so warm, so unbearably hot.

Shrouded in darkness of your own making, it’s almost worse. You can feel everything. Every desperate pulse that throbs in time with your heartbeat. Every shallow breath that scatters across your overly warm skin.

The gentle, light pair of lips that ghost over the space between your brows. That brush against the side of your tightly shut eyelid. That comes to rest along the shell of your ear, inspiring a fresh round of shivers down the length of your spine.

He feels it too. You can tell by the way his breath shudders against you.

His lips part against your earlobe, touch as light as a butterfly’s wing. “Please,” he begs, and you think you might actually die. If this is what defeat feels like, you’ll hand him his rightful victory. “Look at me.”

You’re still sparring. You’re sure of it. Giving into his demands would feel like defeat. But so does hiding, lying immobile and shying away from sensation as if you’re afraid.

You are. Afraid, that is. But you’ll die before you let him see that.

So you obey his command. Eyelids fluttering open slowly, you’re met with the sight of him. Hair falling over his forehead, his nose nearly touches yours. There’s heat in his cheeks and his gaze and his skin.

Something in him sings with desperation, too.

Still, there’s a hint of something else. Something softer. Something that almost sounds like fondness when he matches your eye and whispers, “There she is.”

You feel molten, pliant beneath his touch. Again, your hips shift of their own volition as you swallow down the whimper that threatens to escape.

Heeseung is so intricately attuned to it. Every miniscule movement. Every shallow breath. He notices, feels it too.

And he’s always held a certain love for this. For the chase. For the build up.

But his patience can only stretch so far, and he won’t leave you hanging for long.

You expect it to be bruising, desperate, angry. Everything that’s it’s always been between the two of you when he finally brings his lips to yours.

It’s not.

Heeseung’s lips drip with desperation, but they’re slow where they begin to move against your own. Slow and deep and searching, like he’s looking for something he never thought he’d find.

Late summer heat washes over your skin, and this time, you can’t hide the whimper that drips from your tongue. That he swallows with a renewed vigor.

It’s as if a light has been ignited. The hand, the one that still cradles your thigh, doubles down in its grip. Drags your leg up further.

Until he’s just as trapped within it as you are beneath his body. The action brings him closer to you, touching in places that send a fresh wave of shudders radiating from the cradle of your hips.

“God,” he pants, the syllable sliding past your open lips. “Fuck, ___.”

He moves his hips again, this time in a more deliberate way. A repeated motion that has you seeing stars. That quells the rising ache in your core just as much as it expands it.

“You feel that?” he breathes. “Feel what you do to me?”

You shudder beneath him, body slack to sensation. A live wire under his touch. “Please.”

But patience, restraint, are old friends of Heeseung’s. He wants to hear you say it. “Please, what? Use your words, princess.”

You’ll give it to him, whatever he wants. But words are difficult to come by. You can’t form them with your tongue, can’t push them past your lips. You can’t think. “I don’t… It hurts–”

Heeseung might have patience, but the sound of you begging erases what’s left of his self-control in one fell swoop. He’ll finish the words you can’t quite work out. “Yeah? Need me to make it better? Need me to make you feel good?”

But he does want at least one thing from you. With his hand on your jaw, he forces your gaze to his again. “I’ll do it. I’ll give you whatever you want.” It’s a promise. One that bleeds with sincerity. One that’s just as evident in his eyes as it is in his words. “Just need you to tell me.”

In the scant inches that separate your lips, you whisper, “I want it.”

Heeseung is hanging on by a thread. “Want what?”

You unwind it just as quickly. With starlight dancing over your features, half shadowed by his body over yours, you tell him, “Want you.”

And you can feel it, the way his facade of composure starts to slip. The way desperation starts to become his only driving force.

Even still, you’ve always been something he chooses to treat with care, and this will be no different.

Slowly, he releases his grip on your hands above your head.

With movements that soothe as much as they ache, and gestures that feel a little too much like love, he pushes a stray strand of hair away from your heated forehead.

And then, once again, his hand falls to the hem of your shirt. There’s less hesitation, even if his fingers still shake slightly, as he begins to drag it upwards. Inch by agonizing inch, the expanse of your stomach is laid bare to night air and the wandering intensity of his gaze.

Your ribcage follows. It’s not cold, but you shudder all the same.

He stops, fingers suddenly immobile as they trace the top of your ribs. Uncharted territory. A final barrier between the two of you.

But you’re getting better at this, too. With a firm grip, you bring one hand to grasp his wrist. Looking him right in the eye, you tell him in a heated whisper, “Touch me.”

It’s all he needs.

Hesitation sizzles against the open air everywhere it bleeds from his fervent touch.

His hands are on your skin, and his mouth is back on yours. It burns in a way that’s distinct from hatred. There’s no bitter aftertaste, no sharp sting, even as his teeth catch on your bottom lip.

There’s little grace here, even as he takes his time with you.

Here on the training mat, it’s a far cry from romance, even if your head swims with dangerous thoughts all the same.

His breath, his body, his touch are all tangled in yours. As his hips find a home in the space against yours, it feels less like sparring and more like a dance. Careful choreography that your bodies already know.

Again, he moves against you. The sounds that crawl from your throat and drip through his open lips are obscene. Would be hopelessly embarrassing in any other context, but his touch soothes your anxieties as much as it stokes them.

Lying beneath him, skin bare to his gaze and his touch and his intentions, you suddenly feel like a novice. An easy opponent. The nervous holder of the lower hand.

But Heeseung never wanted to best you, and this is no exception. Gentle fingers dance across the band of your training trousers. Plain. Utilitarian. Designed for function.

Your sudden insecurities aside, he doesn’t want to best you. He doesn’t want to win.

He tells you as much. “Relax,” he coos against your feverish temple. “Just gonna make you feel good.” It’s an iteration of an already established claim. A promise he’s already made.

But here, trapped beneath his body, consumed by a touch that soothes as much as it burns, you decide that would feel like losing, too.

“You, too,” you insist, finding the fragmented remnants of your voice. It’s a whisper that lands on his collarbone. He shudders with the insinuation. “I want you to feel good, too.”

Pulling back slightly, he pauses his ministrations. Looks you right in the eye and asks, “Are you sure?”

He might have spurred this, might have brought you here, but you’re burning with it now, too. The desire to see him come undone. Fall apart by your doing.

You bring one hand to his temple, and he relaxes into your touch like he’s familiar with it. His head cradled in your palm, you say for the third time, “I want to make you feel good.”

He shudders, and for a moment, everything is still. The room around you holds its breath, his gaze locked on yours.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he rolls his hips again. Slowly. Surely.

Watches as you struggle to keep your eyes open against the sudden onslaught of sensations. Marvels at the small, desperate sounds he’s dying to swallow.

It’s still, until it’s not. Until his fingers find their mobility again and the rest of you is laid just as bare as your torso. Until long moments later, your hands are the one to make him follow suit.

Sweat sticks to your skin, makes every movement, every motion, feel all the more sordid.

But when he guides your other leg around him and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You feel so good,” something between the two of you feels sacred, too.

There’s little finesse to the way he finally guides himself inside of you. Little grace to be found in the way your bodies connect, breath and body and soul combining and colliding into one.

There’s too much sensation, too many months and weeks and hidden dreams for it to be perfect. Too much care and pleasure and feelings for it to be anything but.

And Heeseung…

Heeseung is seeing fucking stars.

He’s always found you beautiful, but this is new. This is different. This is just for him.

Every desperate sound he drags from your throat, every involuntary movement of your hips as you beg for relief only he can give you. It all belongs to him.

His own pleasure is lost somewhere behind clouded eyes as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open under the intensity of his touch. He chases something bigger, something far more dangerous than the pathways of his own baser desires.

He needs it. Burns with the urge to watch you drowning in pleasure for him. Because of him.

The only thing you’ve ever shown interest in him for is his prowess on a training mat, and he’s desperate to show you that he’s worth more than that. That he can serve you what you need on a silver platter and predict what you want without you having to say a word.

He’s a quick study. He watches, observes the way your skin flushes with every filthy, adoring, sweet nothing he whispers against your ear. With every inch of pleasure he forces you to swallow.

You’re shaking beneath him, practically vibrating with the intensity of it all, and Heeseung wants nothing more than for it all to last just a little longer. Stretch into a slighter bigger pocket of infinity that only the two of you are privy to.

But even slivers of forever have their inevitable ends, and Heeseung senses this one in the way your whimper drags out, in the way the last remaining bits of tension drain from your shoulders while you clench around him.

He’s no better. In the moments that follow, he crowds himself impossibly further into the heat of your body while he follows suit. Makes good on your wish that he finds his pleasure, too.

And when it’s done, and the only thing left in the afterglow is exhaustion, he hears you whisper, “Heeseung?”

It takes him a moment to find his voice. He’s never heard you say his name like that before. All hesitation, no trace of venom. His throat feels scraped raw when he hums against your collarbone, “Mm?”

Your hands are in his hair, a gentle repeated motion that soothes. That has hope surging in his chest.

“I don’t…” you sigh, fighting against the urge to swallow your less combative words, even now. “I don’t hate you,” you finally admit. Like it’s still a secret. Like he can’t read the truth in the way you wrap strands of his hair around your fingers, in the way you let him rest against your skin.

But it’s not easy for you to admit, even if it’s obvious, evident in everything that’s passed between the two of you. It still takes no small amount of bravery for you to whisper it to him in the dead of night in an abandoned training room.

Bathed in the fading remnants of deep seated pleasure and the dying glow of distant moonlight, it almost makes him want to smile.

“I know,” he whispers. Leaning a little further into your touch, he repeats, “I know.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: this was for YOU heeseung girlies ♡♡♡ it's been a hot minute since I wrote anything with actual smut, so I hope this reads alright! let me know what you thought, and as always, I hope you enjoyed ♡

#heeseung smut #heeseung fanfic #heeseung fanfiction #heeseung x you #heeseung x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

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Omg could we get another part of animagus cat reader and Sirius? Maybe they’re napping together and the boys try to take cat reader as a joke/because they’re curious while she’s sleeping and she suddenly transforms back as they pick her up LOL. Sirius is grumpy to be woken up/have their special time now exposed hehe

part 1

Sirius's bedcurtains are drawn, a clear sign that James and Remus should grant him some privacy.

Unfortunately, James Potter has never been one to take hints, and Remus strictly stays out of their shenanigans. It's only when James gasps with the entire capacity of his lungs that Remus peers curiously over at the bed in the corner, intrigue piqued when he finds a newly familiar form curled up on Sirius's chest.

"That cat!" James hisses, and he's particularly lucky that Sirius is laying on his side with your chin nuzzled over his ear, or the boy would have heard him. Instead, it's you that wakes, eyes blinking open wide as you stare at the men staring back down at you.

"Hi, darling," Remus hums softly, reaching out a tentative, scarred hand to hover it near your nose. You don't need any time for inspection before butting your head up against the heel of his palm, and he grants you a warm chuckle and scratches behind your ears. When you're not transformed, the feeling of someone toying with your hair is entirely unwelcome. But now you lean into Remus's touch, slumping relaxed once more over Sirius's ear.

"Stop hogging her," James urges, sticking his own hand less ceremoniously beneath your nose, "I want a turn."

Remus concedes with an exasperated grimace, but lets James take over anyways. He's lucky that you're you and he doesn't even know it, because if he'd tried petting any other cat by jamming his fingers into their neck, he'd be walking away with several scratch marks on his arms. But you forgive him as he tries petting you too similarly to how he pets Sirius in the man's own animagus form, all riling strokes and heavy-handed pats. You let out a soft mewl of protest when he tries picking you up, and Remus mutters something about you being the most patient cat in the world.

"Just leave her alone, James," Remus warns his friend, "Her patience is gonna wear out."

He listens for only a second, then decides he knows best.

"S'alright, Moony," He promises his friend, over-confident and too eager for affection he hasn't earned yet, "She's layin' all over Sirius, clearly wants a cuddle. You snooze, you lose, now it's my turn."

James's hand slides to your underbelly, an area you're not fond of being handled at in this form. Annoyance surges through you, prickling at your fur and making you long for the smooth expanse of your human skin again, an urge that you give into without much thought when James tries prying you off of Sirius's face.

There's a lot of noises at once. A pained yelp from Sirius, when you form suddenly weighs a lot heavier on him than it was when you'd laid down. A 'woah!' from James as your fur gives way to soft skin beneath his hands which he quickly retracts. A soft gasp from Remus who hadn't been expecting the rather unpleasant sound of transforming between bodies.

Two sets of eyes regard you with incredulity, and one blinks slowly beneath you, laden with drowsiness.

"It's you," James breathes, an air of amazement in his voice that shouldn't be there; after all, he's an animagus as well. Surely he should have noticed shifty behavior or a change in mannerisms from you. All of a sudden your preference for Sirius's softer, fluffy sweaters makes sense.

"Yes, it's me." You huff exasperatedly, perched precariously on Sirius's once-sleeping form. He's not pushing you off but you're sure it's not comfortable, so you slide yourself in front of him instead, easing back against him and letting him spoon you.

"Cat's out of the bag," Sirius rasps sleepily beside your ear, and you don't have to look at him to know he's grinning at his rather pitiful joke, "Did he try to pick you up?"

"Right around the stomach," You gripe, glaring at James while Sirius wraps his arm around the very portion of your body you'd just forbidden James from touching, "Like a toddler."

"For the record," Remus calls, "I was nice to you."

"I was nice too!" James gawps, "I just wanted a cuddle."

"Get your own girlfriend," Sirius drawls lazily, his face buried against the back of your head, and maybe it's a biting statement considering one Lily Evans is still firmly opposed to the presence of James in her life. Sirius knows, and amends it, "Or crawl into Moony's bed. I don't care, "Jus' keep your hands off m'girl."

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hc #sirius black hcs #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black dialogue #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fanfiction

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mrs-monaghan · 4 months ago

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Not to go into detail and make this long but I remember how a while ago, I was in your blog and I came across you saying;

But, it is of my personal opinion that if they broke up it would destroy JK. Jimin would be heartbroken and devastated too but it would hit JK harder.

And now that we found out Jungkook was the one to sign up for the buddy system and wrote Jimins name for who he wanted to be his partner.

https://x.com/thekmlogic/status/1881424425972814167?s=46&t=DiZ6pHHxW3ahpd70quaKnA

And it really does prove your point to a whole other level. Not that I needed another reason to believe it but because this type of love doesn’t exist for “just friends” and I’ll never know why or how people don’t see it.

We seen how deeply not having Jimin there effected Jungkook. The man was crying on live..

They went on vacations for AYS together, even back to Juju Island again, without V. Who knows about Busan after the last Juju trip.

They could last 18 months away from friends, family, ARMY, but never each other.

That’s why they’re still out and about together even on vacation.

https://x.com/stopkookminpls/status/1882055760152347025?s=46&t=DiZ6pHHxW3ahpd70quaKnA

Vmin. JiHope. Namkook. JinKook.

(My baby, Yoongi isn’t an option.)

So many close friends in BTS who could have went together. Nobody but Jikook went together. Is that not a sign something is different compared to the others?

Anybody could have went with Namjoon seeing how bad he’s struggling to be happy but no.. At the end of the day, this is just more proof on how real their relationship is.

Oh yeah! 1300% So many reasons to believe in Jikook but enlisting together... that was... that was definitely something. From what I've heard, K-taekookers stopped existing after get out of your imagination happened. Then we lost more vermin after GCF. Matter of fact many of them became jkkrs. (Unfortunately that's also when so many more were created thanks to tkk-lives, but whatever) Then more were lost after Rosebowl. And some more left after the talk during ITS 1. and of course we lost a good number after the Taennie walk in Paris. A few more left after AYS dropped but not enough stopped shipping tkk when Jikook enlisted together. But if you ask me, this is what should have had them all leaving fr fr. This... enlisting together was no small fit. Not only has it never been done before, but they really didn't have to. You know? Like u said, RM too should have enlisted with a member if it doesn't carry as much weight as we jkkrs think it does. Know it does.

It was a huge risk they took but they did it anyway because to them it was necessary.

JIKOOK👏🏽IS👏🏽MOTHERFUCKIN👏🏽REAL!!!👏🏽

So, anon is talking about this post. And while there are deeper reasons connected with their enlistment, we already know how bored JK can be without Jimin. We've seen it

(Thanks @chicknbunny13 😘)

Sidebar: boyfriend V is right there on his phone doing nothing and yet, JK is bored out of his mind. Hmm 🤔✍🏽✍🏽✍🏽✍🏽

We've seen it with every single time he came live only when Jimin left the country, talking about how he got bored and missed us.

JK is a lying liar who lies 😂 but we forgive him. If I had a Jimin I would do the same 🤣

So back to your tweet, anon. My friends and I did suspect that that's what the numbers on their helmets meant

But there was no way to be sure. All we knew to be fact was that it had to have been JK's idea.

What i love about being a Joker is that, we are never wrong. We have earned the right to be cocky. You know what I mean?

It's what happens when you actually stan the real couple. Couples, have patterns. That's why the vermin are always changing their stories... nothing about being a tkkr is consistent. Their theories change overnight depending on what they discover or decide to make up that day.

Meanwhile, Jikook are predictable because they are the true couple. And that's why when we make guesses we are rarely ever wrong.

Thanks for the tweets anon. Support Jikook for clear skin

Damn, they're fine as hell!

#ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin and jungkook #jikook is real #if jikook isn't real then neither i'm i #jikook military #satellite jeon #jikook are you sure #are you sure jikook #hot boyfriends #boyfriends #jungji #jimin #jungkook

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adeepdeepslumber · 13 days ago

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"stay with me, i don't want you to leave." - nagi seishiro

:x a relationship that was doomed from the start.

k. - cigarettes after sex

nagi seishiro never tried. he never tried at anything at all. be it studies, social aspects or even just living productively. all he did was play games, and laze around like there was nothing in the world better to do. despite not trying, he still did well for everything. soccer; he never bothered to make an effort, but managed to be the top scorer and carried his team to win the tournament in his hometown. studies; he never studied, slept in all of his classes. literally ALL. but somehow, he always managed to get the second highest grades in the school, the first being his best friend, reo. nagi never tried, but excelled at everything, that was why he'd expected everything to come his way, without putting an ounce of effort.

which is why he's so confused right now.

you, bold and daring, never one to shy away from confronting someone, stood at him, glaring. nagi thought you were a try hard. he hated try hards. why put in effort in things? he saw no point.

so why was he trying so hard to convince you to stay?

his hand gripped your wrist, holding you back from walking away from him. his white locks fell down his face, almost obstructing his view of you. nagi wanted to keep you in his sight, never to let you leave it. he doesn't know why he's trying so hard. holding onto your wrist like a string that if pulled away, lead the rest of the woven tapestry to fall apart. his orb of eyes stared at you, usually never had a spark, only with you.

a small frown formed on nagi's face, one that never bore any emotion.

"please, stay."

nagi said those words determinedly, without an ounce of boredom, which he would usually mindlessly speak out to have you by his side. this one was full of determination, no random muttering of "hassles" or any sighs, just pure hope and desire for you to stay.

you, on the other hand, stared at him with dismay. you tried to wrench your hand away from his, but no avail, his grip was tight. the face you loved, you still do, but you have to leave.

nagi and you were in a relationship for 3 years, and it was bliss at the start. but within those three years, you'd realized that nagi never tried. how foolish of you, to assume he would change since he'd told you he would. it's common sense that nagi never tried at anything, but you'd never thought it would go to this extent. most of the dates you went with him, wasn't even with him. you'd wait at the entrance of a restaurant, all dolled up, and seat at your specially reserved seat for two. you'd wait and wait, but nagi would never arrive.

frustrated and humiliated, you would sit in your seat looking your best for someone who didn't bother. munching slowly on the food, you would have eaten with him, black tears from ruining your mascara would slowly slide down your cheek. that's not all, unfortunately. when you arrived back home, nagi would be lying down on your shared bed with him, sleeping or playing video games. he'd completely forgotten about the date that you were so excited about. you wanted to convey your frustration to him, at least let him understand how betrayed you felt after that. but nagi always brushed it off, saying mere things such as "oh, i slept in." or "it was kind of a hassle anyway, we can do the date another time." never fully embracing your true emotions.

nagi would notice that you were angry at him, then coax you to forgive him by suddenly caring and being affectionate with you, just completely invalidating the anger you had every right to have. he always expected to get what he wanted without actually having to earn it, and you became a victim of it.

at home, he never cleaned anything, leaving all the work to you. when you came home after an exhausting day at work, you were faced with a messy home and a lazing boyfriend. but somehow, you always forgave nagi, since you couldn't resist his beautiful face staring back at you while he murmured insincere "sorries".

slowly, the feeling in the pit of your soul grew, and eventually you couldn't handle it anymore. you told him you wanted to talk, and you broke the words to him.

"i don't think we can do this anymore."

nagi's eyes finally lifted off his video game, and to you. a tinge of confusion was clear in his eyes, and you could tell he though you were joking. his face, still void of proper emotion, started make it's way to turn back to his game, but nagi stopped it.

the silence engulfed the room you two once shared loving memories with, now filled with tension and disbelief. the silence made it's answer, and nagi finally looked at you, with pure emotion in his eyes alone.

"are you joking with me?"

his voice, monotoned, but was different from his usual, it had the feel of disbelief and sarcasm, as he didn't believe you were serious.

nagi didn't know what he wanted you to do in that moment, maybe a smile come over your face as you hug him, muttering that it was all a joke. but your face remained serious and stoned, giving no sign of a joke being played out.

your brows were furrowed, and lips were pursed, occasionally twitching to hold back the sadness you wanted to let out. nagi's eyes widened slowly, as he realized, you really weren't joking anymore. he straightened up, his hand making way to yours.

and that's how you found yourself in this situation.

nagi's hand grabbed onto yours, determined to not let you leave without a proper explanation. his usually dazed eyes stared at you attentively, bringing back a light into his eyes.

the face you love stared back at you, and you resist the urge to cup his face and give in to him, tell him that everything is fine, it was all a joke.

but you can't.

you don't want to be trapped in this endless cycle of empty promises and apologies, gaslighting and forgiveness though your heart tells you not to. this has to end.

"nagi, i told you already. i don't think this can work out anymore."

you grab his hand, and pull it away from you. it physically hurts you to say those words, but if you didn't, who will?

nagi lets your words sink in, a pain in his heart as you say it twice. what did he do wrong?

actually, nagi would be lying if he said he had no clue what he did wrong. he knew. he knew that coaxing you with affection would let you forgive him, he knew that he depended on you, but made it seem like you depended on him. he knew about those dates, but always brushed it off, he knew if he'd left the house messy and untidy, you'd feel obliged to clean up after him. he knew that if he gave you just enough love and affection, you'd stay.

nagi knew.

all those little actions that made you feel you had to stay with him and care for him wasn't just because of his laziness. he knew it'll make you stay. he knew he didn't need to try hard, or even try.

so why is he on his knees, begging you to stay?

nagi's knees hit the soft fabric of the rug in the bedroom, holding onto your leg. his face stared at you, what used to be a void of emotion, was now a collage of an uncountable amount of emotions altogether. all of which begged, just begged you to stay.

"stay with me, i don't want you to leave."

nagi's hand was on your thigh, and you face looked down at his. nagi's lips pursed, as if to hold back any emotion from coming out.

"please, stay. i'll change. i promise. i don't know what i did wrong, but i'll change. for you."

still, he played dumb. he'd lied, thinking that it could coax you to stay with him. you weren't dumb though, you'd used to push it off, but not anymore.

"no, nagi. i said it thrice, and i'll say it again. this won't work out."

your voice stood stable, however an audible but faint underlying feel of pity and regret could be heard. nagi's eyes widened like never before, and his mouth parted slowly. it stung to hear it four times, but he was persistent.

slowly, he stood up, holding your face in his hands, towering over you. he clutched your free hand tightly, a seal of his emotions.

"i promise, i'll really change."

this promise wasn't fully hollow, but there was barely any inch of sincerity. continuously, he spouts empty promises, but your mind has set already.

it hurt your heart so much to even tell him that the relationship that was once so full of love had come to this. it hurt you to see him beg on his knees, just for you to stay with him. but you couldn't take it any more.

you pushed him away roughly, his towering shadow over your face stumbled away. it pained you to see him this distressed. but you had to do it.

"nagi. this isn't going to work out."

you pushed your way through his body covering the door, as you made you way out of the bedroom to the entrance of the shared apartment now void of the love you two used to share. you knew nagi did love you, but you hated how he made it seem like he didn't, you hated how he always managed to get you to forgive him just by giving the right amount of love and attention. and you were done with it.

until he blocked the exit you were planning to make with his body once again.

"i'm sorry, i really am. please, give me a chance to change. you know i can't live without you."

then why did he always make it seem like he could live without you? like you were just an object to him.

you couldn't resist the urge, and you cupped his face one last time.

"nagi, i know that. but i gave you many chances to change already. if you can't live without me, then you should have acted like it. not just give me love and affection just so i forgive you, so that i can once again just clean up after you and take care of you."

somehow, you'd managed an apologetic smile, laced with spite, that he should have tried more. if he can try this hard to get you to stay, he should have tried harder to actually love you.

you push him away and open your apartment door.

"nagi, this is it. i'm done. goodbye."

with that, you turned to face him one last time. the face you loved love, stared at you with regret and despair. you managed a weak nod back to him, your face tinted with sadness, as tears slowly flowed down your cheeks, before you turned away and walked out.

nagi found himself back on his knees, staring at the entrance of the apartment where you had just been. his hands grabbed at his face, letting out a low groan.

he should have tried harder.

maybe then this wouldn't have happened.

he'd relied too much on you, and now you were gone.

he'd taken for granted your presence, the lack of warmth next to him already bothering him.

nagi never cried before. the last time he did was due to a big yawn he let out during class. no tears he shed bore any emotion.

so, for the first time in his life, a string of pearly tears full of regret welled up and slid down his cheek.

he begged for you to stay once again.

male manipulator nagi

K.- cigarettes after sex

a/n: i think im going to make a part two of this!!

#bllk x reader #bllk #bluelock headcanons #blue lock x you #blue lock #bllk nagi #nagi seishiro #nagi angst #agnst #bllk angst #bllk x you #bluelock #bluelock x reader #bluelock x you #bluelock nagi #heartbreak #angst

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aisclosed · 2 years ago

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love bites - y. jungwon x reader

vampirism comes with unusual cravings and unique solutions

PAIRING: vampire! y. jungwon x vampire! reader GENRE: vampire au , established relationship, fluff | WORDCOUNT: 2.2 k WARNINGS: slightly suggestive , mentions of blood n bites

You do your best to ignore it, the aching sensation radiating from your teeth. But the pain is insistent, throbbing twinges extending from your gums down into your jaw.

The feeling is almost enough to make you cave, to call your boyfriend and whine for any sort of relief. Almost. Instead you sigh, eyes flickering out the large windows looking at the expanse of the city, the light of the stars competing with the fluorescent buildings and signs.

It had been weeks since you'd last left your apartment, you weren't ready, not fully turned or prepared to navigate the world in your new form. Jungwon’s words, not your own, and as much as you missed walking the bustling streets with him, you knew he was right.

There's a faint hunger in the back of your mind, one that had become all too familiar these past weeks. Your brain supplies memories of warm tteokbokki, noodles and dumplings despite knowing that none of the former options could satiate your appetite. As your skin lost its warmth, your heart slowing in its cavity, you had lost your palate for real food, instead craving something that you currently had no way to get on your own.

Wincing as another stab of pain steals your attention. you run your tongue gingerly running across the edge of your teeth, feeling out the sharp edge of the unfamiliar fangs that had begun to protrude.

“I thought I told you to tell me if it hurts,” a low voice cuts through the silence, your heart jumping at the disruption. Even after years of dating, you could never get used to your boyfriend appearing abruptly from the shadows. You snap your mouth shut, glancing over to meet narrowed feline eyes with poorly feigned nonchalance.

“It doesn't hurt, I’m fine,” you say breezily, drawing a scoff from Jungwon. He stalks forward, reaching out to cradle your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. The icy temperature of his skin is a welcome sensation, and you lean into his palm letting it soothe the flaring ache in your jaw.

“And you expect me to believe you when you're acting like this?” Jungwon mutters unamusedly. You crack your eyes open from where they had fluttered close, sweeping over his furrowed brows. Despite his best attempts at maintaining his stern expression, he was given away easily by the way his eyes softened upon making contact with yours.

Jungwon knew your stubborn mannerisms well, that you would rather suffer than admit to him that you needed his help. Which is how he knew that once you had set your mind to joining him as a vampire you wouldn't relent until your wish was granted. Yet that hadn’t stopped him from trying for several weeks to convince you that it wasn't a necessary change. Promises that he would still love you regardless of how you aged and no he didn’t mind that one day you might be mistaken for his sugar mommy rather than his centuries younger girlfriend. His last comment had earned him an indignant scoff rather than an enamored smile like he had been expecting, and he had spent the rest of the day sucking up to you for your forgiveness.

It had taken many arguments, tears, warnings, pleading kisses and long conversations on what exactly eternity together detailed before Jungwon had surrendered. His coven had been ecstatic at the news, congratulating him with hearty claps on the shoulder and teasing ‘about time’s.

In all honesty, the pair of you both knew that when it came down to it, Jungwon would much rather have you by his side forever than let you wither away. You were his, and he was yours, and when he thought about an eternal lifetime with you his happiness was poorly concealed. Jungwon only wished that it wasn't at the cost of your own humanity. You would no longer be able to enjoy your favorite foods, your cheeks wouldn’t redden to the same degree when he teased you, you’d have to see your loved ones leave this earth, one by one.

The guilt ate at him more than the pain ate at you, and that was your main motivation to hide the truth. So you did your best to swallow back the complaints and whines that threatened to spill from your lips, unwilling to see guilt swimming in his red tinted eyes. It’s a futile attempt, given that Jungwon could pick up on the waves of pain through your newly formed blood bond, his attentive eyes catching each wince.

Sighing in exasperation, Jungwon grasps your chin, tapping your bottom lip with his thumb, ”Open up for me baby, let me take a look at your fangs.” You consider insisting you’re fine, that his examination is entirely unnecessary, but the thought is dismissed by the firm look Jungwon gives you, and you comply baring your teeth as best as you could.

You wait patiently as Jungwon inspects your teeth, tilting your chin up to grant him a better view. Instead you take the opportunity to admire your boyfriend's handsome features, the slope of his nose and the angle of his jawline. Your eyes trail down the expanse of his neck, decorated with traces of your lips and two faint puncture marks, long healed to where they looked more akin to moles than scars.

From his close proximity you can smell an enticing fragrance wafting from his body. Jungwon always smelled good, of warm amber and clean linen sheets, but there was another underlying scent that caught your attention. There's blood pumping through his veins, fresh blood, Jungwon had recently hunted and fed. The thought causes your vision to cloud, hunger prickling at the edges of your mind.

“Baby,” Jungwon calls out softly, and your eyes drag away from his neck, struggling to find his own in your dazed state. “You're literally drooling,” he chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear and tugging on the lobe affectionately.

He had noticed your wandering attention, the way your stare locked onto his neck, a red tint slowly creeping into your eyes and your fangs fully extending against the pads of his prodding fingers. It was a good sign, your instincts were getting stronger and your senses sharper. Soon, you'd be a full fledged vampire.

A slight flush spreads across your cheeks, the best it can with the limited blood flowing through your system. “Sorry,” you apologize meekly, embarrassed at the prospect of being caught openly salivating over him.

Jungwon only coos at you teasingly, leaning down to peck your pink cheeks, and then grazing his lips against the slightly raw puncture wounds on your neck. Unlike other injuries which would quickly be remedied by their healing abilities, the initial bite, meant to turn you into a vampire, required much more patience, only closing when the transformation was complete.

The skin on your neck was still broken and bruised but as much as it pained Jungwon to know he had caused you hurt, it also gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction to see the mark he had left on you. He always loved littering your skin with love bites but seeing them fade was his least favorite part. His bite mark would forever remain, a testament to the vows you had made to each other the day he had turned you.

“Nothing to apologize for my love, I drank extra today because I knew you'd be hungry. C’mere.” He tugs you towards the couch, sitting down on the plush seat then pulling you unceremoniously onto his lap.

The minuscule distance makes your fangs push uncomfortably against your lips, unable to deny the alluring scent wafting from your boyfriend. You wait for Jungwon to bite into his wrist and present it to you, the way he had fed you each time these past few weeks.

Instead Jungwon just smirks at you, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leans back against the cushions. “Well? I thought you were hungry baby, come kiss me and bite me.” You splutter, panicking at the mere mention of having to bite him, but Jungwon merely laughs in response, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back.

“Don’t be nervous, your fangs are more than ready to do the job and I’ll stop you if anything goes wrong. Remember darling, you bite firmly, sink your teeth in to make a clean wound instead of ripping tissue. As soon as it's secure, you release some venom to alleviate the pain, make it feel nice for everyone and only then do you start to drink. The hardest part is stopping before you do too much damage but I’ll let you know if you're getting to that point okay?”

“Wonnie, I don't want to accidentally hurt you-,” you start to protest but Jungwon cuts you off with a firm kiss to your lips.

“You’ll be fine. I promise. If you don’t trust yourself, trust in me, hm? You need to drink so you can feel better and who better to practice on than me? Come on love, I promise I don’t bite,” he murmurs cheekily against your lips, inciting a roll of your eyes, a derisive laugh escaping from your chest at the irony.

Shaking your head in mock exasperation, you concede, leaning in to plant a peck against Jungwon’s smirking mouth. You trail kisses lower until you've reached the hollow of his neck, ears pricking as soft satisfied sighs escape from his parted lips.

Angling your head, you finally sink your teeth into his skin, your hands finding his shoulders for support. Jungwon's grip on your waist tightens for a split second until you release your venom, relaxing as the pain subsides and gives way to pleasure.

A metallic flavor floods your mouth, relief washing over you as the pain and hunger ebb away. Instead you focus on the taste against your tongue and the way Jungwon strokes your hair tenderly, pressing mumbled praises and groans against the side of your head.

It's when you begin to feel nearly intoxicated at the feeling of feeding that Jungwon whispers into the hollow of your ear softly, “Alright sweetheart, it's time to stop drinking. Let the last of your venom out and then retract your fangs, help the wound close up, you're doing so good for me baby.” You follow his instructions as best you can given the foggy state of your mind, finally pulling away to look into Jungwon’s eyes.

He rests his forehead against yours, cupping your jaw fondly, “You did perfectly darling, I'm so proud of you,” Jungwon tilts his face, slotting your lips together, fingers tangling into your hair to bring you closer. You loop your arms around his broad shoulders melting into his embrace. He sighs into your mouth, humming contently at the faint taste before reluctantly pulling away.

“You were so good baby, soon you'll be able to go out and hunt for yourself no problem,” Jungwon beams at you. Still dizzy from the rush that drinking gave you, blood rushing in your ears, you settle into his arms, burying into the crook of his neck..

“I’d rather just have you hunt enough for the both of us and just let me drink from you,” you bat your eyes at Jungwon sweetly and he snorts in response.

“You must really be blood drunk if you expect me to act as your personal Uber eats for the rest of millenia,” he teases, pinching your cheek.

You huff petulantly, “Considering I’ve been your walking bloodbag for the past few years I think you owe me at least a year or two of the same.”

“Not my fault you smell so yummy,” Jungwon noses at the column of your neck, his fangs grazing the skin, “how could you expect me to want anything else?”

You try to push his face away from your neck to little avail. Jungwon held you tightly in his grasp, knowing you were just being difficult to mess with him. “Well your pickiness and lack of self control is the reason all my neighbors think I get my neck mauled by a bear every night. I refuse to start hunting, you’re just gonna make me into your personal juicebox again,” you grumble, giving in and letting Jungwon continue his ministrations. Vampire my ass, if anything he was more akin to an overgrown kitten, always nuzzling and nipping at your neck.

Jungwon leans back far enough to knock his head into yours playfully, “Yeah right, you love when I give you love bites.” You go to protest but Jungwon cocks his head challengingly, his eyes daring you to try and deny it. The words die in the base of your throat, and you swallow harshly, your face heating as you look away, muttering half hearted insults under your breath.

“Did you say something sweetheart?” Jungwon asks teasingly, and you widen your eyes in mock horror, knowing that with his heightened senses he had very clearly heard every word.

“Just saying how much I love you darling,” you blink up at him, with a saccharine smile.

Jungwon laughs, his dimple on full display, pressing a sweet kiss on your lips. “I love you more baby, even if that means I have to hunt for two for the rest of my very long life.” You give a satisfied hum and cuddle happily into his hold. Forever seemed a lot less daunting in Jungwon’s arms.

a/n: ,,,,,idk what to say about this one. I wanted to give you guys something bc MTM is taking so long and I'm about to leave for vacation,,, and this ended up being the product of my 2am thoughts.... hope u enjoy :)

perm taglist: @hoonsunivrs @pkjay @thatfeelinwhenyou @lacimolela @ttalgi @cieluna @ahnneyong @luvlee1313 @meowmeowhoon @llama-lyna @dmoki @w3bqrl @16doie @itsvynnie @saintells @given8taken @yakjw @miukityy @meowwonie @simp4jakesim @teddywons @flowertothejungwon @skywithf1 @yur1a1 @nyeonglover @fallingenluvv

#enhanet #kflixnet #k-labels #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader #enhypen scenarios #jungwon oneshots #yang jungwon #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #enha x reader #enha smau #enhypen smau #jungwon fluff #enhypen fluff

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actual-changeling · 1 year ago

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i think it's hard to understand the level of betrayal crowley must have felt, which leads to a lot of assumptions around him easily forgiving aziraphale or not being angry; so let's put ourselves into his position.

imagine: your partner, your best friend, the one person in the world that you love more than anyone else, asks you to change how you look, how you talk, who you are—so you can follow them back to an abusive household that threw you out and told you to never come back.

and they tell you that happy and excited and it's not even a question, it's a "by the way, we're doing that, isn't that great?"

you try to tell them no, it's not, i don't want to go back there, i like who i am now. they hurt me and scarred me for life, and they will do it again.

the person you loves, the person you thought loves you, looks at you and says "but you're bad. don't you want to be good? they can make you good."

come with me, you say. that house doesn't want us, we can have our own, we can build our own home. just the two of us, we don't need them, we're fine the way we are.

"i can change them" they say, as if you didn't try. as if you didn't try to change them first. as if that wasn't the reason they threw you to the wolves.

fuck it, you say. you confess your love anyway because they must know, right? they need to know. "don't leave me" you beg, plead, pray.

"oh," they respond, smiling. "nothing lasts forever."

you try to walk away, they stop you, they make it worse, make it clear they don't understand you like you thought. do they love you or the version of you they created in their head? you can't tell anymore.

"we could have been us," you say. we could have been happy.

you kiss them because you have to, because you will be damned twice over if you lose them without kissing them, because your patience snaps and you think you might die if you don't kiss them right now.

it doesn't change anything. "i forgive you"—for being me? for loving you? for refusing to tear myself apart? for kissing you? it's not like it matters. they're gone. you watch them leave.

would you immediately forgive them if they showed up on your doorstep? or would you be heartbroken and angry? you miss them, you still love them, but FUCK YOU. fuck you for demanding that of me. fuck you for everything you said. FUCK YOU FOR LEAVING.

six thousand years. six thousand years.

it would already be hard to forgive a person you have loved for two years or ten, and it gets worse the longer you know them. six thousand fucking years and aziraphale did that. we know why he did. we know how their story will end, but crowley doesn't.

all crowley has is aziraphale's speech and his face disappearing behind elevator doors. all crowley has is you're the bad guys and come with me and nothing lasts forever and i need you and i forgive you.

love alone does not and cannot fix that. aziraphale took six thousand years of trust and set them on fire with a smile on his face, and i understand the urge to try and find an explanation where he doesn't do that. where everything is secretly fine.

but there isn't.

aziraphale needs to rebuild that trust, he needs to earn it again. and mot importantly, he needs to understand why his words and actions broke it in the first place. but even then—even if crowley is the kindest possible version of himself and aziraphale does everything right—even then crowley would have every single right to say i don't forgive you. i love you and i understand you, we can be together, but i cannot forgive you for that and we both have to live with that now.

they will get their happy ending, i do truly believe that, but it might not be the fairy tale happily ever after you imagine and that's okay. it still counts. it's still good.

let crowley be angry and let them find their way back to each other, even if that path does not include forgiveness.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen

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laswells-ashtray · 1 month ago

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Okay time for the weakly murder, I feel like I missed last week's 🤔

Tattoo artist!Rudy who gets an odd appointment, a reverse tramp stamp. But that's not what's odd, it's the fact the client just showed up. Covered in dirt and dust, cowboy hat perched on his head. Tethering a horse outside. A large gold belt buckle brushing the sweat soaked and mud smeared skin of his abdomen.

The horse, he could forgive. It's a very... He, is a very pretty horse. Quite pleasant.

The dusty clothes, and dirt and sweat staining him, also a forgivable offense. Many come straight from work, even a few cartel members had blood on their clothes.

It wasn't even the fact the rude cowboy strutted through the small shop and sat down. Legs spread open like a whore, shirt tugged up as if asking for more then just a simple tattoo.

It is the belt buckle, that has rubbed the skin raw. The tanned skin showing inflammation and a few scratches. But Rudy is nothing if not adaptable, and petty.

He prepares everything as if the Vaquero was another client, because he was. Never mind the fact it was Colonel Alejandro Vargas.

But one thing the cocky Vaquero didn't expect, Rudy doesn't give a fuck who you are. He will manhandle you to his expectations.

Perching on the little swivel chair, nothing out of sorts just yet. Until he turned to face the Vaquero, and reached out. Grabbing the chair and yanking it, and the man perched on top, towards him. Earning a shocked yelp.

"Legs and shirt up." Rudy would snap out, not even waiting as the taller man gaped, blinking owlishly. Any control over the situation he had, was long gone. Another shocked shout as Rudy yanked the mans legs over his thighs, partially dragging him down the chair. Fitting damn near perfect between his legs.

Not even a chance to make a snarky quip before his shirt is shoved up to his tits, and the cold stinging of alcohol is smeared across Ale's lower abdomen. A pained hiss and another surprised shout, as Rudy yanked the belt off the man with a swift movement and tossed it on the ground. Not caring that the buckle he likely scuffed could easily pay for a few months of rent.

"Color." Rudy snapped, preparing the tattoo gun, and a few vials of ink. Making sure to rub some more alcohol over the angry skin.

Ale could only stammer out an answer as he jumped again from the sting and roughness that was definitely doing something for the man.

"Verde..." Ale would try and breath out, the air knocked out of his lungs as he watched Rudy slide a pair of glasses on his face. Mouth gaping, before he slowly shook his head. And changed his mind. "Azul... I want Azul... Miel..."

A scoff and a quirk of a brow, "'Honey' costs extra." But Rudy would move dutifully, efficiently, as he prepped the needle. Not even asking for placement before he got to work. The buzzing of the gun filling the shop with sharp inhales from Ale as he tipped his head back. Trying to will away the obvious tent in his pants. Stuck with the image of the blue ink matching Rudy's glasses.

Half an hour would pass before Ale would earn a slap on his leg, snapping him out of whatever thoughts he was having to try and stay calm. It clearly didn't work, not the way Rudy leaned against the bulge. As if it was nothing more than an arm rest.

"Take your shirt off." Rudy would demand as he turned away, cleaning the tattoo gun. And leaving Ale's skin throbbing in more ways than one.

A confused sound, but Ale quickly complied, peeling off his vest and shirt. Exposing himself, glancing down to see how the tattoo looked before his face paled. He hadn't said what he wanted. And reading cursive upside down was a bitch for the Colonel. And the color blue, would definitely do some damage to the man in the future.

"What does it sa-...." A click had Ale's head snap up and his face go white as a sheet. Staring at the needle in Rudy's hand, and the twin bars in his other hand. "O-oi... H-hermano... What's that for... I only scheduled a ta-"

"Miel, costs. Extra." The artist would scoff turning to sit on Alejandro's lap this time. Rubbing an alcohol soaked cloth across the mans tits. "They'll heal in a few weeks if you're really worried about it..."

A groan would escape Ale as he breathed hard through his nose, the younger males ass feeling fucking sinful on his lap. A quick shake of the head as he leaned back, watching as the needle got closer. And before it could pierce skin, he'd catch Rudy's hand. The dirty look the artist would give him, almost enough to make the Colonel cum in his pants like a teenager.

"Dinner after?" Ale would purr out, swallowing hard as he felt Rudy shift on his lap.

"If you cry."

Jesus, Lia. I am scared

Fuck sake, Alejandro isn't the only one that's hard.

Rudy is a professional; he wipes down Alejandro's abdomen with an alcohol wipe and drags his nail across the man's skin as he does. He's testing the man's ability to sit still; he doesn't work with jumpy clients. Of course, he has to shave the area he's working with, and typically he might offer the client the chance to do so themself, but he isn't taking any chances with a man who sauntered in like he'd be anything other than a notch on a bedpost.

He smears ink on the man's pants, over his bulge and over his a smack when he hears his breath hitch.

He realises approximately three letters into the tattoo that he's going to stick needles through this man's tits and charge him for it, a visual harassment fee for the way eyes have been drifting over his figure. He's going to watch tears bead in this grown man's eyes, and offer him a heavy-handed pat on the cheek should he complain about it.

He has a no bitching policy, it's somewhere between his "no cops in shop" rule and his "I'll take a bottle of cherry brandy for a lobe piercing" agreement by the door.

Distantly, he knows, he's going to have sex with this man. He's going to hold him by his hair and choke him on his cock until he sees tears in those eyes and that confidence is shattered as he tries to regain his voice. And this vaquero is going to like it.

#rodolfo rudy parra #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #alerudy

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raayllum · 4 months ago

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The thing (or one of the things) about Ezran in early S7 is that while he's not being unreasonable, he is being hypocritical and unproductive ("You forgave Zubeia"). 7x01 is his breaking point after seasons of trying to keep everyone else together and weathering each conflict in as most an unaffected manner as possible, and he quite simply couldn't do it anymore.

Zubeia sent an assassin to kill your father? You long for your mother so deeply, you don't know your dad is dead yet, you do everything you can to get Zym back home because you love him (you can literally see through his eyes) and because it's the best chance for peace. Forgive her for killing your father and trying to kill you because she was grieving and Zym's dad for killing your mother because he's dead and they miss him. Put all your anger in a box at the one person who actually did kill him, because Zubeia saw her baby and changed her mind, and your found family sister (who is also missing) defected and spared your life that night, and he didn't.

Deny the ugly truths as long as you can by focusing on peace ("I ignored something that was true. I denied something that is undeniable"). Why should you have to acknowledge anger? Can't you just get past that? And then you can't, with the picture. (Then you can't, later, with yourself.)

Rayla comes back and Callum is fighting with her? Forgive and welcome her back unconditionally and try to counsel Callum through his big feelings. Rinse and repeat when Soren and then Zym goes missing. Advocate for and refuse to give up on Rex Igneous until he sends you sprawling into a wall.

Take on the responsibility of negotiating with the dragons. With Finnegrin (you offer up your hand, and so do your friends, your family). Talk your brother out of a more violent solution, and Rayla sides with you. She does again about hiding with the pearl and you save each other's lives. You look after home while she and Callum leave to save the world, and tell Soren the hard truth and deal with Viren till you don't. You try to spare Karim and his forces. You believe in peace. You believe in breaking the cycle.

"I am a king, and as a king, I choose love over strength."

"King of what? King of ashes?"

Ezran looks at what two years of trying to do the right peaceful thing has earned him — a destroyed kingdom while he was away — and he desperately, angrily, grasps at any semblance of control. This can't be all it was for. He feels like he's failed as a king, and is therefore a bad king. He needs to punish Sol Regem for it, but he can't. It needs to be Runaan's 'fault' because Runaan made him a king, even though keeping Runaan chained up in the Banther Lodge basement doesn't do anything but keep another family (Rayla's family) apart and make him feel in control. His pendulum swings so hard and strong, the target of his anger constantly changing to the most recent wound stacked upon themselves. After 7x02, he's not visibly angry at Runaan again until the finale; he's angrier at Callum than he is at Rayla because he thought he had control over his brother ("Callum. High Mage. We need you at this council meeting") even if that shouldn't be the goal or the focus at all anyway.

Callum doesn't betray him just because of Rayla, but because Ezran is perpetuating the cycle in a way that is antithetical to everything all three of them have striven to break, which is exactly what Callum points out to him. (If Rayla had surrendered or Callum had stayed, they just all likely would've been arrested, as it's unlikely Rayla and Runaan would've made it in the boat with Callum's magic, either. Would that have made Ezran, or anyone, feel better, hunting down his brother and friends, bringing them back in chains? No, and only Aanya is brave enough to say it out loud after Ez proves he values his bond with his brother / Callum's life over destroying Runaan's and Rayla's by proxy.)

"Because pain and loss feel so terrible inside, you want to hate. You want to hurt someone else."

What would killing or imprisoning Runaan (again) really have done?

"Hasn't he already been punished enough? Viren trapped him in a cursed coin for years. It's time to set him free." / "How much suffering is enough to pay for the mistakes we've made? No amount of suffering, yours or mine, will ever bring him back."

("As a father, I have a selfish wish, and that is for you and Ezran to be... free.")

"A life for a life. Is that justice?"

We also see that his scene with Runaan is one of the very last in the season. It's been months, if not nine, before Ezran was ready to have that conversation, ready to do with Runaan what he willingly did with Aaravos ("A king must look into the face and hear the words of those he judges"). A few days or a week by Callum's estimate wouldn't have been enough.

Ezran set Terry free to see if they could really trust him. He refused to do the same with Runaan even when it was causing clear pain and fracturing within his own family unit, nor did Runaan come to Katolis to face justice; it was just happenstance. But in Runaan being freed, he was then able to choose to come back to face Ezran's verdict. And then Ezran makes his own conscious choice.

"I'm going to forgive you. I don't know how, but I have to try."

He told everyone else that they had to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss in their hearts while also holding love. It was hard before. It was hard now. But he has to try.

(Nor does Harrow being in the bird erase the two years of mourning hell that Ezran went through, remove the crown from his brow, make things with Runaan any easier tbh, or mean he's 100% getting his father back.)

#tdp ezran #ezran #let ezran be messy #tdp #the dragon prince #tdp spoilers #s7 spoilers #arc 2 #s7 #mine #mini meta #analysis #sort of #analysis series #but i have to try

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cumplanecrash · 2 months ago

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So not to pathologize the blorbos, but Shen Jiu totally has OCD, yeah?

(I so wanna reblog and come back for style reasons but I also want the whole thought in one place.)

Okay so qijiu reconciliation is on my mind, right? And the thing is, Yue Qingyuan thinks that he made one specific mistake (did not come back for Shen Jiu at the Qiu Estate) that, if he can just make up for it somehow, he can be forgiven and he and Shen Qingqiu can become close again.

But honestly, we know he had a good excuse for not coming back: he was locked in a cave by some of the most powerful cultivators he could be held hostage by at the time, with no hope of overpowering his Shizun, especially with his life being drained by Xuan Su. And you'd have to be a completely petty, heartless bastard not to forgive him knowing that.

The kind of petty, heartless bastard that would take advantage of the Sect Leader's guilty conscience for his own benefit.

And Shen Jiu does not ask for this.

If anything, he's irritated by Yue Qingyuan's favoritism. He also never speaks in his own defense when his crimes, true or false, are brought up. Because Shen Jiu has decided that he's an irredeemable monster, unworthy of defence and too tainted to be allowed to touch the flawless sect leader, and the sooner everyone else sees that, the better off they'll be. (This is a type of OCD.)

You see, once upon a time, he had written off his dear Qi-ge as dead (or dying, or in need of rescue) and mourned him in his heart, because he believed that only death or dismemberment would keep Qi-ge from at least trying to keep such an important promise. But then, when his best-of-a-lot-of-bad-options shifu took him to the Immortal Alliance Conference to raid the inevitable dead bodies and, not so secretly, make some of their own, he saw that same Qi-ge there, and there was no sign of permanent injury visible. He didn't even make any excuses, just apologized for not coming. And Shen Jiu — accepts that "No matter how [Shen Jiu] changed, he was a rat", that "Some people were rotten from birth. Shen Jiu thought of himself in exactly this way — someone vile and poisonous from the start. Because, at that instant, he came to a crystal-clear realization:

That he'd rather have met a Yue Qi who died in some unknown corner, his remains unsightly and forgotten, then a Yue Qingyuan who was elegant and powerful, his prospects and future boundless."

It's a hell of a thing on a young person to wish someone dead, truly and with your whole heart. To do it to a loved one can be especially hard. But the thing is: brains aren't literal. Especially when they're trying to understand emotional pain.

To go all Pop Psychologist on the character who definitely does not have access to therapy for a brief moment, he doesn't want Qi-ge dead anymore than I want to commit a random shootout on the way home from work after a long day. It's dram;, it's poetry, in a sense. I think what that quote literally means is that having Qi-ge betray him to the point of not even attempting to come back for him when he actually did well for himself, hurts just as bad as if he had died. But that's where the OCD comes in, he takes the literal meaning of his thought and condemns himself as the worst kind of human being, or rather "rat", imaginable.

And if he's the worst, what's the difference if he does whatever it takes to fulfill his every whim, as long as he doesn't get caught?

Shen Jiu performs the role of Scum Villain because he's convinced himself that he must be one, for having a dramatic thought in a moment of weakness, and that he can never earn forgiveness for that thought, that it's a thorough and unforgivable betrayal of the young man who dreamed of it being his turn to save Qi-ge, and that's exactly what makes us want to see him grow and change.

Where it often falls flat, is that we think that Shen Jiu needs to forgive Yue Qingyuan, when who he really needs to forgive is Shen Jiu.

#TL;DR someone tell sj that thoughtcrime isn't real #someone not sy i wrote that scene already but idk if he would know what thoughtcrime is #idk if this even scans anymore #svsss #shen jiu #shen jiu | shen qingqiu #cucumber posting #can you tell I'm plotting out a shen jiu fic hahaha #thinking about shizun babies 🥰#😶‍🌫️

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irritatedirishfrog · 2 months ago

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"𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒"

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘪

*:･ﾟ✧ in which, Shoto's been dating you for the past year, and yet he isn't even sure that he loves you like he should. He can't help but feel guilty when he's provoked to marry you because now he feels like he's just using you to anger his father for the things he's done to him and his family in the past.

──── •✧• ────

You were Shoto's partner, a quirkless girl who he met working part time at a coffee shop. However, you were kind and hardworking, an enjoyable person to be around. Somehow, you had caught the attention of not just any person, but a future hero.

You were considered the bare minimum for most others. He got to learn a few of your other past relationships that ended badly because you weren't, 'up to par', but Shoto really couldn't understand their thought process.

He wanted to be around you all the time, almost an unhealthy amount of time.

When he talked to his mother last, she told him that what he was feeling was love, but he's not sure. It wasn't like the two of you were completely smitten, distracted by one another that you couldn't do anything responsible in your life...

Well, maybe he should ask you what you thought of throughout the day, because if he's being honest, he's distracted all the time with you. Of course, he'd never admit that to you because he'd rather not seem like a freak.

You were just such a gentle person, it was easy for his mind to just blank out on everything else and go back to you. Logically speaking, there was no point in him leaving you, ever. The two of you didn't fight, and you had to be one of the sweetest people he's ever met in his entire life.

There was just this... One problem, something that made him want to propose to you on a whim.

That one unfortunately irritating problem. That stubborn, stupid, annoying, absolutely anger inducing problem.

His father.

The man disapproved of you greatly, and oh how Shoto wished from time to time that his father would just croak and die.

It angered him knowing that his father would still try and control his life even when he became an adult. He knows that his father has changed, and he's grateful, he's forgiving him as much as he can right now. Shoto's taking baby steps.

But why did his dad have to ask about you?

How did he even know about you? He was sure he hadn't been vocal about you to anyone in his family besides his mother. How did he find out that you were quirkless? How did he find out you weren't even in UA?

The two had an argument and he was pissed, storming out of his house and everything. So what better way to revel in revenge than to use his father's credit card to pay for your engagement ring?

That was probably too far, uncomfortably too far.

After all, that would mean that the ring wasn't really bought with love... It was a haste decision and it didn't come from just him, it came from him trying to prove his father wrong.

He's only known you for a year.

And now here he was, almost two months later with a ring, a simple yet really pretty ring in a small white box stuffed in the pocket of his jacket that oddly reminded him of you.

Should he wait? Or should he propose to you now? Should he just break up with you entirely for your sake of not being involved with his father? If he was going to propose it would be really fast, but if he was really going to have to make it romantic.

Right?

He wants to prove to his father that he can make his own decisions and do what he wants. If he wants to marry a girl, why should he be stopped just because she was quirkless?

He wants to marry you... He's sure he wants to at least stay with you for as long as you'll allow him to. You, his beautiful girl that caught him, in a comforting, warm grasp. Out of nowhere, you just made him fall for you somehow.

He doesn't want you to ever let his heart go, and he wants to earn yours. He wants to make you happy because even though he's confused, he wants to believe it's love.

He loves you, but then his father comes to mind. Every. Single. Time.

"Damn it." He grumbled as he stood, being clearly frustrated at what his mind wouldn't allow him to settle down. Though the train was unwavering as it didn't stop for anyone's misfortune. It just kept swaying to its vigorous pace.

"You okay kid?" Aizawa questioned, nudging the heterochromia eyed boy out of his daydream.

"... Uh, yeah, I'm fine." Shoto just nodded.

Due to some of the safety precautions UA had in place, the students needed chaperones to escort them to their homes or others places outside of campus.

Shoto was lucky enough to have his own homeroom teacher this time around, Mr. Aizawa. Last time he was assigned Midnight and his sister accused her of being a little too friendly around him, he'd rather not have that same issue again.

Maybe Shoto should ask Mina or Kirishima what to do with this ring situation. Maybe even Midoriya would know something about this, after all, he did help him emotionally at the sports festival.

You knew almost nothing about his terribly raised life, but he knew your family and they were lovely. To the point where he wished he could be a part of it.

Your father was the calmest man he had ever met. At first, due to his rough exterior, it scared him. Until he saw him laughing and Shoto couldn't help but laugh with him.

Your brother however was a nightmare for a while, ready to kill Shoto in an instant if he dared to harm you. Thank God Shoto got off on the right foot with him, after a good two weeks, your brother deduced that he was in the clear.

He hasn't invited you to meet his family yet, well, not really. You had met his sibling a few time, Fuyumi and Natsuo, but you hadn't met his mother or his father... And he probably should have thought about this sooner, he's just not sure how to go about it.

Why did his father seem to ruin everything?

Slowly, Shoto started walking to the door when the train started stopping, Aizawa following him. Not a lot of people were in the train car thankfully, as felt almost lightheaded when he got off, knowing that he'd have to face you in a few moments.

Shoto still couldn't get his mind off of all of this, he couldn't think about you for some reason without sweating and following up his thought with his father.

If his father were still annoying enough to choose someone for Shoto like he said he would in the past, he'd probably choose someone like Momo. A rich ass Asian that made his rich ass family look so poor that it was ridiculous. Momo, always calm, smart, and a strong quirk to back her up. Momo, in his father's eyes, would be a logical choice for dating let alone marriage.

But that's what angered him so much.

Shoto could care less about Momo or his father, so why was he always thinking about what his father would think? About every single situation, he was thinking about what his father would see as good or bad.

He was absolutely livid by it.

Shoto huffed, walking out of the station to the general area of where he was heading to, your house. He was a man on a mission and for some reason, he was going to follow this through like the dumb ass he was.

I mean, he would have to, he bought the ring off of that stupid card his dad mindlessly carried in his wallet. Hopefully it would ruin his dad's credit.

Maybe he should steal one of Bakugou's romance novels, that way he could figure out what to do in this situation that wouldn't place him in jail for harassment or attempted murder.

Aizawa squinted at the back of Shoto's head as they continued to speed walk, trying to figure out what it was that was bothering is student. Another problem child, and one that he hadn't quite figured out yet.

Shoto was practically sprinting, almost making the strangers and citizens around him uncomfortable. He was always stoic and calm, but this week had been a rather difficult one.

Was he actually going to marry you? Technically he couldn't legally since he knew his father wouldn't allow it and since he was still a minor, he would have to wait until he was older.

He was going to make you his fiance though. Possibly. There was no real way to determine whether or not you would say yes. Were you as delusional as him that you would say yes to a proposal?

He would just take you to meet his siblings tonight, how hard would that be? They had invited him to dinner tonight and it would be a surprise for everyone. He didn't need to bother you with that tonight.

You almost remind him of a rose. A rose can harm him if he touches it too roughly because it has thorns, but at the same time, if he's not gentle enough, the rose will wither or he'll break it.

He doesn't want to be the one to leave you hurt and in pain, but if he pretends to love you, won't that also hurt you? What in the world is he supposed to do?

Before Shoto knows it, he's walking up to your family's house. If you weren't there, you were probably still at school or at the skate park since you didn't work today.

"I'll wait out here." Aizawa spoke after a moment, the duo standing in front of the small house.

Why is he so nervous to walk up the steps and knock on the door? Is it because of what he's been thinking or because he's about to touch the rose that might harm him or die on him?

"Right." Shoto quietly replied with, taking a few steps forward before stopping at the door.

Shoto felt like he might die from nervousness, despite this thought he knocked on the door anyway. Waiting for a few seconds before he thought about running away seemed to pay off, being welcomed in by the face of his girlfriend.

"Don't touch the dress!- Oh, Hi Shoto! I didn't know you were coming." You smiled, opening the door and allowing him to enter before yelling at your older brother again. "Don't touch it! I'm almost done making it so stooppp!"

Only for him to laugh, but oblige and scoot away from the dress.

Shoto stood still in the doorway for a moment, turning back to see that Aizawa had occupied himself with his phone already. Shoto only planned to be here for a moment, the three really heading to his families house after.

Still, something about this was strangely foreign to him, knowing that he was somehow hiding his privately idiotic mistake to everyone around him even though it should have been dealt with before he entered society again.

"Hey, who's that man outside?" You asked, turning around to look at Shoto again as he closed the door.

"Just my teacher-"

"So how's UA going?"

Shoto smiled a little bit, your brother having waved at him with his beaming grin like always.

"Good, hero training is always hard of course." Shoto replied before sitting down next to you. "But I think I'll get the hang of it soon."

"I'm sure you will." You chuckled, finishing the sewing needed to keep the ribbon on the dress.

It was a beautiful dress, one that would fit you or any other woman perfectly, Shoto almost forgot that you liked to make clothes, It seemed to be more of a hobby than a career though, even with the talent you had.

"Can I ask you a question?" Shoto mumbled, watching your hands hold the dress as you sewed a small gem on it.

He kinda wishes you would hold him like that.

... Wait, what? Was that a good thing to think about?

Probably not.

Shoto was almost sweating at how nervous he was, there was no way he was going to break up with you in this house, but there was no way he was going to propose to you here either. Especially while your brother was here.

What question did Kaminari say was good for relationships?

'Would you love me if I was a worm', right?

... What type of question was that?

"Sure, what is it?" You start, biting on the needle to finish something before placing your sewing kit and needle off to the side. "I'm all-"

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Your brother practically screamed, looking at his phone before walking towards you in a haste.

"Keiko Kitagawa is pregnant!"

"... Who again?" You question, tilting your head to the side as he gets his shoes on. Clearly you weren't familiar with the celebrity and neither was Shoto.

"The actress, stupid! I can't believe she's pregnant, now she's gonna stay with freaking Daigo forever!" Was all he could yell out.

Before he almost collapsed on the carpet and cried.

"What?" You deadpanned. "Don't act like a freak! She don't even know you like that-"

"Just imagine being hoodwinked by a man who sings for a band that hasn't been acknowledged for over thirty years, that's literally her husband!" Your brother growled, biting his phone case in anger.

Chaos. You two were absolute chaos. Sibling chaos that Shoto wasn't used to.

Maybe if Touya was still alive, he would be that way with him.

"Would you like to come on a dinner date with me?" Shoto suddenly blurted out. He was profusely sweating already, especially when you and your brother were quiet.

"... Really? Sure! when would we be going?" You grinned, moving the dress to the side.

"Uh, well... Right now." Shoto replies, trying his best to keep his breathing to a minimum. His heart was beating way too fast and he didn't like it.

"Right now? Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

You were surprised indeed, it was usually you who initiated dates and hangouts with him. In fact, you were almost too stunned to speak. You look towards your brother but you can already tell that he's still traumatized with his celebrity crush.

"Don't care, just bring her back at nine." He simply waved off, walking into the living room as he continued to look at his phone.

"Okay." Shoto mumbled, raising an eyebrow at the brother that was acting just a bit too depressed for something this dumb.

"I'm not dressed for anything nice though." You commented, fumbling with the collar of your t-shirt.

"Doesn't matter." Shoto simply replied, looking at your attire. You actually looked nice, regular jeans with a white strawberry shirt.

"Yes it does, I can't have you looking prettier than me."

He just sighed, though he had a soft smile. Allowing you to quickly run into your room to get ready, he found himself thinking that it was... Nice when you said that.

He liked hearing you call him pretty.

You come back about a minute later, a colorful sundress and a white dress jacket to put over.

He mostly didn't care, especially since he was just in a pair of jeans and a white. He did also have a plain, black button down shirt over, but how did that make him look any more ready for a date than you?

You looked very pretty too.

"Bye!" You yell towards your brother, him giving a small wave in response before the two lovebirds exited the house.

You were immediately met with the older sleep deprived man you had seen earlier, staring at him for a moment before turning to Shoto.

"I can't leave UA without someone." He shrugged.

"Ah... Hi sir."

The man nodded his head towards you, acknowledging your presence before stepping out of the way for the two of you to head out.

Shoto took your hand in his, walking down the stairs and leading the way for the now trio to head over to his house.

"Now that you're surprising me," You started, taking deliberate steps to slow his fast paced walk a little more. "Is it okay if I ask you a question this time?"

"Yes, what is it?" Shoto asked, turning his head to look at you only to be met with a strange expression.

A calm one, but one of slight concern. Why?

"You okay? I'm not asking if you're sick or anything, but are you feeling alright?"

He liked when you asked if he was okay... Now that he thinks about it, he likes a lot of things that you do around him.

"I'm fine."

"Don't mean to pry, it just seems like you're stressed is all." You sheepishly added.

"I just wanted to surprise you... You're always doing that for me anyway." He started, lightly rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. It calmed him, he didn't know whether or not you liked it, it was a small way of showing affection. "So I thought I would do it for you this time."

"... That's sweet, thank you."

Aizawa silently rolled his eyes at the teenage romance, though made no comment. It's just that, if he had known that this kid would be picking up their girlfriend, let alone had one, he would have forfeited taking Shoto around to All Might.

──── •✧• ────

"Why is it so Japanese?!" You whisper yelled as you stood in front of his house.

Aizawa just shrugging his shoulders alongside your surprised face, showing no care whatsoever.

"The interior is also made that way because it's more comfort-."

"I'm not ready for this!" You squeak out.

Shoto just stared at you trying to calm yourself down, figuring out rather quickly that you didn't want to know just how Japanese it was. He had to refrain from laughing, he didn't think this would make you so nervous.

"You look okay, I'm sure you're ready. Plus, you've met my siblings before."

"I would have dressed in something more formal than this if I knew we would be visiting your house!"

"Don't worry." He chuckled out, placing his hand on top of your shoulder in a side hug. "It's just my siblings today, and plus, they don't know that you're coming either so it's a surprise for everyone."

"Alright... Alright... I can do this, it's all good." You whispered again, taking a quick breath before groaning.

"Are you sure you don't wanna come in Mr. Aizawa?" Shoto offered again, asking that same question for the third time now. "My family wouldn't mind."

"I'm good, this is personal time for you." Aizawa nodded, staying behind.

Shoto finally opened the door, already hearing the chatter of his sister and her silent yelling at Natsuo to behave.

"Shoto, is that you?" Fuyumi asks, opening the sliding door that was inside before stopping in surprise at the guest.

"Yes... I brought a guest with me." He barely spoke out, his voice sounding foreign to him. He must have been nervous as well.

"That's lovely! The table will feel a lot fuller now, it's so great to see you again!" Fuyumi greets herself, hardly able to contain her excitement about it.

Fuyumi knew damn well who you were, after all, she also visited mother and it's not like her mother kept secrets from her family.

"It's nice to see you again too, Fuyumi." You reply, lightly taking her hand and giggling at her puppy dog eyes. Fuyumi liked guests, most company in general, so Shoto's happy that both of you seem to like each other.

"Come on inside!" Fuyumi waves, allowing you and Shoto to fully enter the house. "Natsuo, we have a guest!"

Fuyumi opens the dining room, not finding Natsuo and deciding that she should retreat to the kitchen.

"... It'll be just a moment." Fuyumi sighed, quickly speeding off.

For a few seconds it was just Shoto and you, standing in the somewhat closed off but endearing dining room.

"A guest?! One other than Shoto?!" Another voice shouted through the house.

"Yeah! I wouldn't be calling Shoto a guest, would I?"

"Don't get sarcastic with me!"

"Just be nice to her would you?!"

Shoto chuckled, leading you to the table to sit down next to him.

This seemed to be turning out good for now, maybe he didn't have to worry about anything. He didn't have to worry about his father, he didn't have to worry about the ring.

He knew that he was just being hyper about it, so he'll return the ring later. Yeah, that's the right thing to do.

"Whatever... Wait, her?" Natsuo yells out, questioning his sister before entering the room and seeing you. "Oh! His girlfriend!"

If he was a girl he would have squealed from how cute you were sitting next to his little brother. But he wasn't, so instead he decided to just smile and wave.

"Hi."

"Hi." You smiled at him, watching as he did a complete one eighty towards the kitchen as well.

"I'll be right back." Shoto starts, standing up before you lightly tapped on the back of his leg.

"Do you want me to help?"

"No, thank you." Shoto replied, not being able to keep away a small smile from you because of how cute you were.

He walked into the kitchen to help serve the table, but instead he was quietly bombarded by his two siblings.

"She's so cute! I almost forgot you were dating her since you don't ever tell us all that much about her!" Fuyumi whisper yells, quickly hugging onto Shoto before Natsuo pushes her away to state something else.

"Even I can tell that she's a keeper, also, have you been sleeping with her by any chance?"

"... No... Why?" Shoto mumbled, embarrassment shooting up his face and making him slightly flustered.

"Good, you haven't done it yet. I can give you some tips if you want, I'm pretty good at getting people laid." Natsuo starts, ruffling Shoto's hair before Shoto smacks his hand away.

"No, gross." Shoto rolled his eyes, now helping Fuyumi and Natsuo with the food that she made to bring onto the dining table.

As the three of them helped set the table, there was somewhat of a playful attitude that started brewing in the atmosphere. You also helped and that in turn got a lot of thankfulness from Fuyumi and teasing from Natsuo.

It was strange, you would assume that it would be a little more uncomfortable here since you were around.

"So... You like jazz?" Natsuo started, winking at you.

"Natsuo, don't be pushy! Or inappropriate!" Fuyumi scolds, hitting her elbow into his side. He only let out a grunt in response but didn't let up on what he thought was him being welcoming.

"What?! I was being serious, I want to know more about you if you're my brother's girlfriend."

"Yes, I do like jazz." You reply with a chuckle.

"Do you like anything else in particular?" Fuyumi jumped in, suddenly getting more curious. Natsuo of course, sees that as an opportunity to pull her down with him.

"Hah! Who's all pushy now!?" Natsuo quipped.

"Oh! Would you stop it?!" Fuyumi glared back. "You're making a very bad first impression!"

"Me making a lousy first impression!? Since when? My presence alone is welcoming."

Shoto found himself laughing just as much as you, not just from his siblings antics but from the different topics of conversation they passed along the dinner table. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing at first, however he liked the way that you interacted with them.

Even though he could tell throughout the night that you were a bit stiff with how you talked and acted, you eventually loosened up and it seemed that your charisma just came back naturally.

Until a problem occurred.

Of course a problem like this had to happen now. And now he's found himself worried all over again. That stubborn, stupid, annoying, absolutely anger inducing problem that he didn't need.

Immediately the dining room went quiet, surprising you as the trio of siblings listened. They looked like a group of meerkats, looking for a predator that they heard.

That's also when you realized that if they hadn't stopped talking, they wouldn't have heard the door of the house unlock.

"You told me he would be working the whole night." Shoto calmly stated, listening as he heard the door of the house now open.

"I thought he wouldn't be here, he didn't say anything to us about it."

"Damn he's gonna be all fatherly now, how riveting." Natsuo chuckled, though to you it sounded almost bitter. At the very least, spiteful.

"Natsuo!" Fuyumi scolded him again, lightly smacking his arm despite him not responding.

As calm as Shoto was acting, he was internally in fear of his mental sanity and the possibility of dying on the spot from stress. But he knew he needed to be calm, at the very least for your sake.

You didn't know how his Dad was, so you would assume he was like every father. After all, you had a good one, a practically perfect one compared to his.

"Hey dad, do you want me to set up a new place for you on the table?" Fuyumi questioned, standing up and watching her dad take off his shoes before walking away.

"Sure, I just have to wash up."

Damn.

His voice was deep, and not only that, it sounded hoarse. Probably from how much he may or may not have been yelling from his job.

For now, reaching out to touch Shoto's hand with your own from under the table would have to do in order to calm yourself down.

Shoto thought it was sweet, but he didn't really have much time to reminisce about you when he had to figure out how he was gonna explain all of this. He didn't tell his father he would be bringing you, there were a lot more things he didn't mention.

Like that freaking ring.

Before he even knew it, there was his father, barely registering that you were even there until he sat down. When he did notice you, he wasn't sure how to react, although he wasn't even really surprised.

That was a lie, he was completely surprised. His entire face was one of shock, despite him looking unbothered. You couldn't tell, but the three siblings could.

"... Evening." Enji greeted, blinking a few times as if you'd disappear the next time he opened his eyes.

He did figure that at some point his son would bring you home, he just didn't think it'd be today. As he recalled it, Shoto had told him that ' he wouldn't mind marrying her it would make him shut the hell up'.

"... Good evening..." You responded with a small smile, disregarding the fact that you felt like you were about to throw up.

"So... You are the girlfriend?" Enji starts, raising an eyebrow in your direction and then looking at Shoto.

"Yes sir." You nodded your head.

"Well... I guess we should talk about some things then."

You silently swallowed, looked at Shoto before realizing that him and his father were communicating with their facial expressions. Shoto wasn't having it, it was like he was threatening his that he would leave soon if he didn't stop about this.

"About what?" You question, tilting your head a little bit at the staring contest the two were having.

"A talk that's been long overdue about this relationship you have with my son."

Natsuo cringed, and though Fuyumi didn't make any facial expressions, she sure wasn't hungry anymore.

You were scared and Shoto was about to lose his shit. Mostly this was still due to the fact that his father still didn't know that he bought that engagement ring, but it also had to do with how annoyingly rude and blunt his father could be.

Even after three months, he didn't find out about the ring yet. Not that you needed to know either, at least not now. It's his father's fault for not checking his money.

"As far as I'm concerned, the conversation doesn't need to happen now, or ever." Shoto butted in with a calm tone, intensely glaring at his father with an unreadable expression.

"Yes it does Shoto, it was going to happen sooner or later and if it happened later than now, there would be a chance that you would actually stay with her."

... Ouch... That hurt... Like a lot.

Shoto was practically seething, his stare becoming that much harsher at that statement alone.

"I'm sure you know my son's going to UA."

"Yes sir, a school for heroes." You nod, staring at your lap before looking at him. Your stomach hurt, you almost felt like you were on your period.

"With that being said, I just don't think that this relationship is even reasonable to begin with." He added on, looking at you with a straight face.

The only reason Natsuo was still here was because of this specific conversation. He was just waiting for Shoto to freak out and yell at him.

"... Because I'm poor?" You slowly questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"... Uh, no that's not it," Enji sighed. "It's just that there's a lot of stress when you're training to be a professional."

"Right... So does it have anything to do with me being quirkless?"

Now Natsuo was more interested, leaning further into the table. Fuyumi was as well but she was able to hide it a bit better.

"No-"

"Well that's gotta be part of it, isn't it?" Shoto muttered, sounding as sarcastic as ever.

"Shoto, don't start-"

"Don't start what? You've started it."

"What's your reason for staying with her?"

"Because I can, I don't have to give you a reason."

"That's what I'm trying to say." Enji comments, sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "See... I wasn't the best father when my kids were growing up... That's an understatement, I was a terrible father."

Now you're not sure if you feel uncomfortable, or relieved that Enji is trying to actively explain his thought process.

It seemed like he was trying to fix something.

"So, unfortunately my son likes to do things that I disapprove of. All I'm hoping is that Shoto isn't dating you just because he knows I don't like the prospect-"

"That's enough." Was all Shoto said as he stood up. If he stayed any longer, he would burn the dining table down from stress.

"Shoto, do you really see yourself with this girl in the future?"

Ouch... That hurt, like a lot. Again.

"Whether I do or not is none of your business!"

"Shoto." You mumbled, taking his hand to try and calm him down, though it only seemed to fuel his anger further towards the man in front of him that he was forced to call his dad.

"I am not trying to control you, but you have to think for once about this." Enji continued, clearly irritated but refusing to raise his voice at the boy.

"What am I supposed to be thinking about?"

"The fact that it's not a good idea to mess with someone's feelings because you're mad at me."

"I wasn't even mad at you until you brought this up!"

"If you're willing to interfere in someone's life because of me, then you should reconsider how you feel about that person."

"This doesn't have anything to do with you! I'll be with her because I want to be!"

Enji closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

"So it has nothing to do with me then?"

"No." Shoto grumbled, looking down at his feet. "Not everything revolves around you."

"As I recall-"

"I don't care what you recall! I'll do what I want and marry whoever the hell I want!"

Marry?

How cute, he misspoke and accidentally said he'd marry you...

Wait.

Natsuo choked on his water, practically dying of laughter. Fuyumi didn't even catch the slip up, she was just silently begging that this argument would stop.

"... Marry?" Enji probed, giving him a quick side eye.

Shit, shit! What did he say?!

Yet again he's said that same word, something wasn't adding up to Enji and he didn't like that.

Even you were looking up at him, finding it rather strange since Shoto wasn't one to say things by accident. He was always very deliberate in his speech just to make sure he said the right thing.

Not to deny that it was cute, it just seemed off.

"... I meant date... But that doesn't matter, you're not getting the point anyway."

He was trying to disregard the whole thing now. Enji just groaned, his head falling in his hands from exhaustion before he stared at his untouched food.

Shoto found himself also sighing, but he wasn't angry anymore. He released whatever tension he was feeling, and now he just wanted to leave.

"Let's go, I need to head back to my dorm-"

"... Is that why your teacher's outside my house?" Enji deadpanned, debating now if he should invite Aizawa in just to keep Shoto here.

"Yeah."

"Shoto, are you sure you don't wanna stay?" You questioned. It was as if you were urging him to stay, even if you weren't saying it.

"I gotta take you home too."

"Shoto, it's only seven forty." Fuyumi called out. "You can stay longer, can't you?"

Shoto didn't respond to Fuyumi, silently leaving the dining room without looking back at anyone else.

"... Sorry, for me leaving so fast," You smiled, though it was a much more nervous one. "But I can't wait to see you guys again!"

"Sure thing!" Natsuo grinned, giving you a thumbs up, Fuyumi simply waved, though she unfortunately looked more weary about the departure.

"Have a good night Mr. Todoroki."

Enji simply nodded, watching as you also exited the dining room. As the room became quiet again, Natsuo took one last bite of his food before standing up.

"Alright, well I think I'm going to bed."

"Natsuo-"

"Sis, just take a break would you?" Natsuo chuckled, gently patting her head. "You're always stressing yourself out, you should even sleep in tomorrow. Plus, we'll see her again, Shoto's stubborn after all."

Fuyumi rolled her eyes, but she obliged. If anything, Shoto would continue to date you just to piss his dad off even more.

She just hoped the next time they had dinner, the end of it wouldn't be so abrupt.

"Good dinner?" Aizawa spoke, putting his phone away when he saw the two exit the house. You nodded, but neither you or Shoto said anything.

Which led Aizawa to think that it wasn't all that good. Good thing he wasn't there.

You found yourself silently following Shoto, your eyebrows furrowed together in thought.

Shoto didn't even want to acknowledge what happened, he wanted to go to bed and completely ignore all of this. All of his stupid decisions that led to this moment.

"Shoto."

"Hmm?" He hummed, showing disinterest as the couple walked behind Aizawa.

"You're not telling me everything." You blurted out. "You haven't for a while, tonight just proved that."

Aizawa felt like crawling in a whole and dying right now, he had no intention to eavesdrop either. He wasn't a fan of drama like that, but it's not like he could tune them out when he was walking right next to them.

"Please, not now." Shoto muttered, looking down at his feet.

"Then when? Cause it seems like you keep pushing this off."

"Pushing what off?"

"Everything." You groaned. "About you, your life, family, everything. Is it because you don't trust me-"

"No, that's not it at all." Shoto interrupted, startling you a bit. He looked annoyed, as if you even bringing up distrust frustrated him. But why else would he be this secretive.

"Then why?"

No response, which in turn angered you further.

"You scared of something?"

"... No."

"You know everything about me, this relationship thing is called being vulnerable y'know?"

"... Heroes aren't supposed to be vulnerable."

"You're not a hero yet, you're too young to pretend like you don't care about life."

No response again, Shoto just looked down at his feet. Though you couldn't see his face anymore as he walked forward, you could tell that this was bothering him.

This was your first argument with him, but you weren't going to back down this time. Not again, it was too late for that.

He knew everything about you and your family, even the sad and terrible stuff. How your mother had run off because she felt like she could find more than what her father could give. How she had basically destroyed her family because she bore a quirkless child.

She had you, that's why she left. Despite that, you knew just by Shoto's face that he had gone through worse.

Yet here you are, falling in love with a boy that you didn't even know anything about.

All you knew was that there was a mom in a hospital, a pro hero dad, two siblings and a son destined to take the mantle of his father.

He still has yet to even tell you about the scar on his left side.

"Would you just talk to me!?" You finally yelled, glaring at him.

"... Do you love me?"

You stared at him for a moment, blinking as he finally turned around to look at you.

"... What?"

Aizawa looked between you and Shoto, something akin to worry or anxiety building up. At this moment, Aizawa decided that he wasn't going to stay any longer, he needed to leave you two for whatever personal issues you had.

"I'm sorry." Shoto sighed, not daring to look at you right now. He felt ashamed and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Uh... I'm gonna keep walking." Aizawa mumbled, pointing behind him. "When you two are done talking, catch up... Or whatever."

You replied to Aizawa with a simple nod, though your gaze was unwavering. You were confused to say the least, you didn't understand why Shoto felt like he had to look away from you.

You just wanted to know more, you wanted him to trust you.

"... Sorry about what?"

"I'm scared because I think my old man's right. I'm not sure if I'm dating you because I love you or if I just hate him so much."

For some reason, watching him look down at the ground, almost as if he was formally apologizing to you made your heart hurt.

"What do you mean?" You reply, trying to take his hand only for him to move away.

"I bought an engagement ring for you off of my father's credit card."

"... What?!"

"I did it because I wanted to prove to him that I will do what I want without his approval." He states, briefly looking up at you before looking back down. He was definitely ashamed.

"But, I'm worried because I didn't do it... For you... I did it in spite of him... I think he was right."

He took the stupid small white box out of his pocket and handed it to you. It was most definitely not a proper proposal but Shoto had no intention of proposing to you this way.

This was a declaration, that he was scared, that he wanted your help. That he wanted this relationship to be about you and him.

Not his father.

"I hate my father, so much." He started, finally looking at you and showing you how broken he was.

He was crying.

"I don't want to hate him, I want to forgive him... I want to love you, I think I love you. But I can't bear to just use you to make my father mad and then leave you."

"Do you want to leave me?" You ask, wanting to give him some sort of comfort, whether it be a hug or a kiss or something.

"No! But... I don't... I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to end up like him."

That was the real issue wasn't it?

Shoto wasn't angry at his father for disapproving of you, he didn't trust that he wouldn't end up like him.

He blames everything on his father, his mother being in the hospital, his scar, his quirk, his brother's death. But he doesn't want to end up like him, he never wants that to happen.

He doesn't want to have a child that blames everything on him because he wasn't a good enough dad.

He doesn't want you to end up like his mother because he couldn't control his anger or greed.

"Please... I... I don't know what to do." Shoto mumbled. "I can't-"

Without another word from you, you hugged him. Your embrace was comforting, it was tight, but somehow it made his heart yearn for you that much more.

He hoped that maybe, there was some sliver of a chance that this was actually love.

His mother says this is love, but he's still not sure. It wasn't like his parents love, the love that wasn't love at all. Only shown as love to cover up the convenience and the money.

Maybe it was its own love... His own love? He prays it is, because he doesn't want to leave you.

"I'm sorry." He cried into your shoulder, trying to stop himself from fully breaking down. How in the world was he going to keep you if he was like this?

"It's okay, cry as much as you need to."

And he cried, though it wasn't long. It was enough that he could feel some relief, enough that he didn't feel the need to cry anymore.

"I'm... Sorry, I don't know what to do."

"It's okay, I think that you'll be a great man someday, okay?" You remark, cupping his face to wipe his tears away. "So just try your hardest to keep on and I think you'll be okay, we're all only human after all."

He forgot, you were one to forgive everyone. You still put healthy boundaries around you but you would be the type of person to forgive his father because he was only human.

Not negating what he did, but you wouldn't torture his conscious by holding his past over his head.

You rubbed his back a little bit before letting him go, he also forgot how comforting you could be. It was silence for a moment after, but something about it seemed to match both Shoto and you.

Then in that moment, you tried to be serious, but instead you laughed like an idiot and Shoto found himself wide eyed.

"I can't believe you bought this off of your dad's credit card!"

It wasn't that big of a deal... Well it was, but he wasn't going to die over it.

"Here." You start, handing him the box only for him to push it back you.

"I may have bought it because of my dad... But I bought it for you." He replied, wanting you to keep it as he wiped his face again. "I'm not saying that I'm ready for anything like marriage yet... But I would like you to keep it for now."

"Okay sir." You chuckled, taking a hold of his hand slowly continuing your walk with him.

"... Y'know, It's so quiet in your neighborhood."

"Yeah... It is, almost no one is around."

"Hey, can you promise me something?" You asked Shoto, turning in his direction and looking at him with a soft smile.

"What is it?" He looked in your eyes and for some reason, he feels warm.

"If you do lose feelings for me, please tell me, that way I know."

"Wouldn't that hurt you?" He mumbled.

"Yes, but it would hurt less than you lying to me." Was all you said as you looked up into the sky.

"... Alright, I promise."

"If you don't lose feelings for me, then maybe you can marry me with the ring."

"Sure." He blushed almost immediately, turning his head to look away from you.

"At least it's a nice box."

"You just like the box?" Shoto chuckled as you held the box above your head.

"Yeah, I haven't opened it yet... Can I?"

"Yeah."

You slowly open the box, as if there would be a spider in it before you fully see it.

It was a pretty ring, a small, dark blue gemstone right in the middle of it. It was the shape of a circle and you could see the small crystal placements on the band around the blue gem.

"It's beautiful... How much did it cost?"

"About a quarter of a million."

"WHAT?!"

Shoto sighed, looking ahead of him and catching his eyes on Aizawa who had preoccupied himself with an alleycat.

"You gotta give it back while you still have time to do so!" You wheezed on, continuing to blurt out a bunch of sentences about how it was too expensive and that it would ruin has dad's credit. That and Shoto would probably get in trouble.

Well, good. Shoto wanted it to ruin his credit.

"No... I want you to have it, even if I don't marry you."

"I can't possibly keep-"

"Please... Please keep it." Shoto blurted, still holding your hand.

Unfortunately looking at you with the cutest expression in the history of forever. I mean, how could you say no to the poor baby?

"... Fine."

"Alright."

"..."

"Hey... I think I love you."

"... I love you too Shoto."

──── •✧• ────

"Oh my God."

Silence had been swept across the Todoroki household for quite some time now, the sun already retired as most other people had.

However, Fuyumi and Natsuo hadn't retired, let alone gotten ready for the night.

"Oh my God!" Fuyumi gasped again, both of her hands against the side of her head in worry.

"Yep." Natsuo sighed. "I didn't think he was actually that stupid."

Him and Fuyumi stared at the computer screen, the receipt of a rather expensive engagement ring thrown directly in their faces.

"Mom's ring isn't even that expensive!" Fuyumi groaned as she sat down in the office chair. "What're we supposed to do?!"

"We? Oh no, no, no. I am not doing anything." Natsuo chuckled, still staring at the computer.

"What do you mean?! We have to return that ring before dad finds-"

"Shh, think about this." Natsuo stops, squatting down to look at his older sister. "I told you that a saw this like two months ago, right?"

"Yes." Fuyumi mutters.

"Right, my computer wouldn't connect to the printer for some reason, so I used dads. However, when I saw this, I totally thought that whatever was bought was from dad."

"... Yeah?"

"It's on his credit card, don't you think he'll see it eventually-"

"Sure, but wouldn't it be better if we just fixed it before he found out?" Fuyumi scoffed.

"Found out what?"

Natsuo choked on his own saliva, turning to the computer screen in a feeble attempt to remove what was on it. Fuyumi started rambling, trying her best to distract her father whose eyes were now set on them.

"What's going on?" Enji muttered, walking past Fuyumi before lightly smacking Natsuo's hand away from the keyboard.

"I was... Well, we, um... Hah!"

"What she means to say is we were looking at receipts for something she needed to return at the mall, you know the one near your agency?"

Both Fuyumi and Natsuo stood together, Fuyumi cringing as soon as she saw the bank home screen.

"Why did you even lie? He can look through the history." Fuyumi whispered.

"... I don't know." Natsuo mumbled back.

"..."

"... Why don't we run-"

"Yep!" Fuyumi shuttered, immediately leaving the room with Natsuo hot on her tail.

And yet, despite their efforts to leave the man that would no doubt become wrathful soon, anyone could hear his rage from a mile away.

"SHOOTOO!!!"

#irritatedirishfrog #shouto todoroki #mha #bnha #shoto todoroki #on a whim #quirkless reader #Boku no hero academia #my hero academia #female reader #possible spoilers #delulu #help this man #character x reader #shoto x reader #angst #natsuo todoroki #fuyumi todoroki #enji todoroki

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