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sakuraszn · 1 month ago

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A BOXERS STRUGGLES !

ft. boxer!katsuki bakugo x f!reader

summary: Bakugo is fiercely dedicated to becoming Japan's number one boxer, but he faces inner conflict when he starts developing feelings for someone. His fear of distraction threatens his rise to the top, creating tension between his personal life and his aspirations. As their relationship deepens, he learns to balance his love for her with his desire to succeed in boxing. [wc: 5k]

The gym stank of sweat and blood. The air was thick with the sounds of fists pounding heavy bags, the rhythmic shuffle of footwork against the mat, and the sharp commands of coaches drilling fighters into champions.

This was Katsuki Bakugo’s world. The ring was his domain. The roar of a crowd? Just white noise. The only thing that mattered was the moment his fist connected—the instant he proved, without question, that he was better.

His opponent staggered back, legs wobbling. His ribs were bruised, his breath shallow. He was still standing, barely, but Bakugo could already see it in his eyes.

He was finished.

Aizawa’s voice rang through the gym. “Stay sharp, Bakugo.”

Katsuki Bakugo stood in the center of the ring, fists clenched in his taped-up hands, his breath controlled despite the fire burning in his chest. His opponent for today’s spar was already on his knees, clutching his ribs, coughing through the pain.

“Get up,” Bakugo growled, shaking out his fists. “I ain’t done with ya’ yet.”

The other fighter grimaced trying everything in his power to rise, but before he could, the coach called it.

“That’s enough, Bakugo!” His trainer, Aizawa, sighed from outside the ropes, arms crossed over his chest. “I told you to spar, not destroy.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue and turned away, grabbing a towel from the corner post to wipe the sweat off his face.

“If he’s too weak to take a hit, he shouldn’t be in the ring,” he muttered, stepping out of the ropes.

“That ‘weak’ fighter you just knocked out was ranked fifth in the region.”

“Then I guess I’m already top four.”

Aizawa exhaled through his nose and shook his head lightly, but there was the ghost of a smirk in his otherwise impassive expression. Bakugo had talent—raw, explosive talent that had propelled him through the rankings faster than anyone had expected. But he had a fatal flaw.

He fought like a man trying to bury something.

Something he was afraid to lose.

Bakugo exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he looked down at his fallen opponent. It wasn’t personal. It never was. The guy had stepped into the ring knowing what he was getting into. If you weren’t ready to fall, you shouldn’t be fighting.

“Damn, man!”

The sound of Kirishima’s voice cut through the noise before Bakugo felt a heavy arm slap against his back. “That was sick! You dropped him like a sack of bricks.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, walking toward his corner to unwrap the tape from his hands. “Tch. If he went down that easy, he shouldn’t have been in the ring with me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re a beast.” Kirishima laughed, leaning against the ropes. “Which is exactly why you need to come out tonight. We’re celebrating.”

Bakugo shot him a glare. “The hell we are.”

“C’monnn, man! You’ve been tearing through the ranks like crazy. People are talking. You’re undefeated, making a name for yourself, and you’ve got fans.” Kirishima smirked. “I mean, how many guys get this far at our age?”

“I’m not doing this for a goddamn party,” Bakugo muttered, tossing the used tape into the trash.

Kirishima groaned. “Bro. You never do anything outside the gym. You don’t even celebrate your own wins.”

Because there was nothing to celebrate. Winning wasn’t the goal—it was the standard.

Bakugo was going to be the best boxer in Japan. That wasn’t just some damn dream or some nice idea to hope for. It was a fact. Something inevitable. And if it wasn’t inevitable, then he just had to train even harder than before.

There was no reason to slow down.

No reason to waste time at some party.

But Kirishima was still looking at him, hopeful as ever, and Bakugo knew the bastard wouldn’t shut up about it.

He clicked his tongue. “Tch. Fine. But I’m not staying long.”

Kirishima cheered. “Hell yeah!”

This is a waste of time.

Bakugo knew it. He knew he should be in the gym, working on his footwork, watching fight tapes, doing something, anything, to get ahead of the competition.

But he ignored the voice in his head, just this once.

Plus, was the worst that could happen?

The party was loud. So agonizing loud.

The bass from the speakers thumped through the floors, shaking the walls of the packed apartment. People were everywhere, drinking, laughing, talking too damn much. Some of them he recognized—fighters from the gym, people from the local boxing circuit—but most of them were just randoms.

“Here.” Kirishima shoved a drink into his hand.

Bakugo took one look at it and scoffed. “I ain’t drinking that shit.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes. “Man, at least pretend you’re having fun.”

Bakugo didn’t respond. He was already regretting this.

He didn’t belong here.

This wasn’t his world.

He was about to leave when Kirishima perked up, eyes lighting up as he spotted someone across the room. “Oh, shit! She actually came.”

Bakugo barely glanced over. “Who?”

Kirishima grinned. “That girl I told you about—(Y/N).”

Bakugo finally looked.

You weren’t flashy like some of the other girls here. You weren’t trying to be the center of attention, weren’t draped over some guy’s arm, weren’t looking at him like he was some kind of goddamn celebrity.

You were just sitting there, talking to a friend, nursing a drink in your hand. You didn’t even seem all that interested in the party at all.

And somehow, that was the first thing that made him notice you.

Kirishima nudged him. “She’s cool. I think you’d actually like her.”

Bakugo scowled. “Tch. Since when do you set me up with people?”

“I’m not setting you up,” Kirishima laughed. “But seriously, man. You need to talk to people who aren’t trying to punch you in the face for once.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. He wasn’t here to meet people. He was here to get Kirishima off his back, and then he was leaving.

But then, as if you could feel him looking, your gaze flicked over to his.

And you smiled.

Not in an over-the-top way. Not in that annoying, flirty, “I’m just here for the fighters” way.

Just a simple, amused smile. Like you knew something he didn’t.

And for some stupid, infuriating reason, that was enough to make him stay a little longer.

You didn’t approach him first.

That was the second thing he noticed about you.

You weren’t like most people who came up to him at these kinds of events—all wide-eyed admiration and empty compliments. You weren’t trying to impress him.

If anything, you were unimpressed.

And that… bothered him.

So when Kirishima finally dragged him over to introduce you, Bakugo was already in a foul mood.

“(Y/N), this is Bakugo,” Kirishima said, grinning. “Bakugo, this is (Y/N). She’s cool, I swear.”

You gave him a once-over, raising an eyebrow before smirking. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes. “Tch. That so?”

“I’ve been to a couple of your fights.” You shrugged. “You don’t let them last very long, huh?”

He scoffed. “Why the hell would I?”

You tilted your head. “I dunno. Wouldn’t kill you to put on a show for once.”

Kirishima snorted. “Damn. She’s got you there, man.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. He wasn’t used to people talking to him like this—like he was just some guy instead of a rising champion.

But you weren’t mocking him.

You weren’t flirting, either.

You were just… talking to him.

And for the first time in a long time, Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t sure how to respond.

This was bad.

This was exactly the kind of distraction he couldn’t afford.

The next day arrived as Bakugo got out of bed, the sunlight streaming through his window, casting a warm glow across his room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the day ahead. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, he could still feel the weight of the events from the previous night lingering in his mind, making it hard to focus.

Bakugo didn’t do distractions.

He trained. He fought. He won. That was it.

He didn’t waste time at parties, didn’t fuck around with meaningless shit like relationships or making friends outside of the gym. There was no point. The only thing that mattered was getting stronger.

So why the hell had he stayed at that party longer than he intended?

Why the hell had you stuck in his head?

It pissed him off more than it should have.

It wasn’t like you had done anything special. You weren’t drooling over him like most people who recognized his name. You weren’t trying to get something out of him. You weren’t even acting impressed.

You were just… there.

And for some stupid reason, that was what made him notice you.

Tch. Whatever. It doesn't even matter anymore.

He wasn’t gonna waste time thinking about some random girl.

So, as usual, he threw himself into training.

The gym was empty except for the steady rhythm of his fists pounding the heavy bag. It was late—so late that even Aizawa had already left for the night, trusting Bakugo to lock up when he was done. The only sounds that filled the space were the heavy thuds of leather meeting flesh and the occasional creak of the building settling around him.

His body ached, but it wasn’t enough. The burn in his muscles was a reminder of how hard he was working, yet it only fueled his determination. He needed more. More speed. More power. More control. He needed to push himself past his limits, to go beyond what he was yesterday. Each punch felt like a step toward a higher version of himself, a way to stave off the ever-looming fear of being left behind.

Because if he didn’t—if he slowed down for even a second—someone else would catch up. The thought danced tauntingly in the back of his mind, an insidious whisper that he couldn't shake off. He refused to let that happen; he wouldn't allow anyone to inch ahead of him.

So he fought harder, faster, his focus narrowing like a predatory gaze. The world beyond the gym faded, blurring into insignificance as he lost himself in his routine. He was so absorbed in his relentless pursuit that he barely noticed when someone else walked into the gym. The door creaked softly, almost lost in the noise of his efforts, and he instinctively increased his intensity, a faint flicker of curiosity stirring deep within him. Who would dare interrupt his sanctum?

“Jesus. Do you ever go home?”

His fist stopped mid-swing.

He turned, scowling, only to find you leaning against the doorway.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” he snapped.

You shrugged. “Kirishima told me you’d still be here. Thought I’d stop by.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Tch. Don’t you got somewhere better to be?”

“Probably,” you said easily, walking further into the gym. “But this is more interesting.”

That threw him off. Most people didn’t stick around after his fights. Not unless they wanted something.

But you weren’t asking for anything.

And that was what made you dangerous.

He grabbed his water bottle and took a long sip, trying to ignore the way you were watching him.

“You train like you’re running from something,” you said suddenly.

He nearly choked on his water. “The fuck did you just say?”

You leaned against the ring, arms crossed, studying him with an expression that was way too goddamn knowing. “You fight like there’s something chasing you.”

He scoffed. “Tch. You don’t know shit about fighting.”

“I know about people,” you shot back.

His jaw clenched.

Because that was the problem.

You weren’t looking at him like a fighter. You were looking at him like a person. And that threw him off. It wasn’t just the intensity of your gaze; it was the way you seemed to see him—past the tough exterior, into something deeper.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

You didn’t go away after that initial encounter. Somehow, you kept showing up—at the gym, at his fights, infiltrating his thoughts at the most inconvenient times. You’d sit on the sidelines, a calm presence amidst the chaos, watching with that same unreadable expression that both intrigued and frustrated him. You didn’t fawn over him. You didn’t try to flirt or get his attention. You were just… there.

And no matter how much he tried to ignore you, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were gradually unraveling him.

“Yo, you good, man?” Kirishima asked after a particularly exhausting sparring session, wiping sweat from his brow.

Bakugo scowled, his irritation simmering just below the surface. “The fuck kind of question is that?”

Kirishima smirked, a knowing light in his eyes. “I dunno, dude. You’ve been off lately. Like, you’ve been extra agitated every time (Y/N) is around.”

Bakugo’s fists tightened into balls at his sides, his heart racing. “Shut the hell up.”

Kirishima just laughed, unfazed. “Bro. You’re so obvious.”

There was nothing obvious about it, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. The truth was, every time he caught a glimpse of you cheering for him—your lips curled into that soft smile, your eyes sparkling with pride—he felt something shift inside him. Something he wasn't prepared to confront.

It was maddening how a simple presence could ignite a fire in his chest.

He cursed under his breath, pushing the thought aside. There was nothing to even talk about, nothing to feel. Because whatever this was—whatever you were doing to him—he wasn’t gonna let it get in the way.

He refused to let his heart get tangled in the mess of feelings he didn’t understand. But deep down, a part of him wondered if perhaps being a fighter meant more than just throwing punches. Perhaps it meant fighting for something—or someone—worth it.

So, as always, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He trained harder.

And harder.

Like he could beat the thought of you out of his head.

Like he could make himself stop wanting something he wasn’t supposed to have.

But no matter how hard he tried…You were still there.

And that was the real problem.

After that night, things… shifted.

He stopped avoiding you. Stopped pretending you didn’t exist.

You still weren’t pushing to be in his life, but somehow, you were just there—closer than before.

And maybe… just maybe… he liked that.

A little too much.

Recently, You started showing up at the gym more.

You never interrupted his training, never got in his way, but he could feel you there. Could hear the way you’d tease Kirishima when he dropped a weight. Could hear your voice in between the rounds of his sparring matches.

And you wanna know the worst part about it?

He started looking forward to it.

“You’re getting better,” you said one day, watching him hit the pads with his trainer.

He wiped sweat from his brow, smirking. “Tch. ‘Course I am. I’m not some weak-ass rookie.”

You rolled your eyes. “Never said you were. But you used to just go for the kill every fight. You’re starting to actually think in the ring.”

His smirk faltered.

Because that was true, too.

He fought like a ticking time bomb, each punch a detonation of raw power that sent shockwaves through his opponents. His reputation was built on pure brute force, but recently… everything had shifted.

He was evolving.

Taking a breath.

Learning the game.

Maybe it was because, for the first time, he had someone whose opinion actually mattered to him.

Shit.

This was spiraling out of control.

It wasn’t just in the ring anymore.

You started showing up in his life outside the gym, too. After every match, you’d be there, thrusting a water bottle into his hands before he could even catch his breath.

“You’ve got to hydrate, dumbass” you’d tease, rolling your eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And hell, he found himself addicted to the way you called him a dumbass with that playful grin.

Then there was that one night when Kirishima dragged him to a late-night diner, and there you were—totally unexpected.

But instead of bailing like he usually would, he took a seat next to you in the booth. He picked at his food, captivated by your animated argument with Kirishima about something ridiculously trivial. When you nudged his arm, asking for his take, he found himself responding.

Because he wanted to.

Because you were a blast.

Because, for just a moment, fighting faded into the background.

That’s when things got really complicated.

The real trouble started the moment he stopped denying it.

When he started craving your presence.

When he caught himself stealing glances at you when you thought he wasn’t looking.

When he realized your laughter was now his favorite melody.

And then the late nights came, when he lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what you were up to.

Did you think about him, too?

Oh hell.

He was in deep.

And he had no idea how to navigate this storm brewing inside him.

Bakugo didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him.

Scratch that—he knew.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

For weeks now, he’d been stuck in his own goddamn head, trying—and failing—to pretend that you weren’t the reason his focus was slipping. Every training session, every sparring match, everything just felt… off. It had gotten worse.

Everything about you messed with him.

The way you chewed on your lip when you were thinking, lost in a world that felt miles away. The way your voice softened when you spoke to him, just a little, as if he wasn’t the disaster everybody painted him to be. The way you looked at him—eyes bright and curious—like he was more than just his fists, more than the explosive temper that often burned those around him.

And now? He couldn’t fucking stand it.

Because he wanted you.

Badly.

And it was driving him insane.

“So,” Kirishima said, leaning against the locker room bench, arms crossed with that unnerving spiky smile plastered on his face. “You gonna tell her, or are you just gonna keep making that face forever?”

Bakugo scowled. “What fucking face?”

Kirishima smirked wider, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “The one you’re making right now. The ‘I’m a grumpy volcano that’s about to erupt’ face.”

With an annoyed grunt, Bakugo yanked off his gloves, throwing them into his locker as if they were the source of all his problems. “I ain’t makin’ a face.”

“Dude.” Kirishima exhaled dramatically, rolling his eyes. “You like her. It’s painfully obvious. You get all weird and broody whenever she’s around.”

Bakugo turned his back, trying to hide the heat blooming in his cheeks. “I ain’t broody.”

Kirishima ignored him, shoving his hands into his pockets with a casual confidence that only aggravated Bakugo further. “And she definitely likes you, too.”

That made him freeze.

His fingers tightened around the straps of his gloves, heart hammering in a way he really didn’t fucking like. The thought of you returning his feelings stirred something inside him—a mix of fear and hope that twisted his stomach into knots.

He forced a scoff, trying to mask the turmoil. “Tch. You don’t know that.”

“Bro, she watches your fights like she’s trying to figure you out. No one stares at someone that much unless they’re either obsessed or in love.”

Bakugo clenched his jaw, irritation bubbling up.

Love.

No.

That wasn’t what this was.

It couldn’t be.

Right?

Kirishima leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I’ve seen the way she lights up when you walk in. When she cheers for you, it’s like she’s rooting for a hero.”

He paused, letting his words settle into Bakugo's mind, each one weighing heavier than the last. “You could have something real, man. But if you just keep pretending it’s nothing—”

Bakugo cut him off, spinning around with a fierce glare. “Shut it! I’m not in the mood for your sappy bullshit!”

Kirishima raised his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. You can’t keep running away from this. It’s like you want to explode but you’re holding it back. Just tell her how you feel!”

But the thought of putting himself out there, of opening up, felt like a different kind of explosion—one that terrified him. A battle he wasn't sure he could win.

“What if I…?” His voice trailed off, the whisper fragile, almost foreign to him.

“What if you what?” Kirishima pressed, leaning in closer, eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern.

“What if she thinks I’m a total loser?” Bakugo shot back, the words slipping out before he could catch them.

Kirishima chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Dude, she’s been right by your side through everything. Trust me. She sees you. The real you. Not just the angry guy who blows stuff up.”

And in that moment, all Bakugo could do was stare into his friend's earnest eyes, the wheels turning in his mind. He felt the pressure build within him—not just the pressure of his own chaotic thoughts, but a surge of longing that was hard to ignore.

“What if I try?” he muttered, almost to himself.

Kirishima’s face split into a grin. “Now you’re talking! Just think about it. Taking a leap like this can lead to something incredible. And who knows? You might just find that she’s waiting for you to make a move.”

Bakugo took a deep breath, gripping his locker. The thought of finally breaking free from this never-ending cycle of confusion was both terrifying and exhilarating. But deep down, he knew he couldn't keep pretending anymore.

With every passing moment, the desire to grab you by the shoulders and confess everything grew stronger. He would have to face his fears—head-on, just like he did in every fight.

“Alright,” he growled, determination erupting within him. “I’ll do it.”

As Kirishima gave him a confident nod, Bakugo felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that accompanied every fight—but this time, it was for something much more important than just victory. It was for you. The challenge had been accepted, and he was ready to stop being the broody, angry guy everyone expected him to be.

Bakugo would fight for this, and he wouldn't back down. Not now, not ever.

Kirishima nudged him with his foot. “Dude, just confess already. It’s not like she’s gonna reject you.”

Bakugo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair.

Confess?

He wasn’t that guy.

He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t romantic. He didn’t have a way with words.

And what if he messed it up?

What if you looked at him differently?

What if—

Kirishima snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Oi. Stop thinking so damn much.”

Bakugo growled. “I ain’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, you ain’t thinking, whatever.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “Just tell her.”

Bakugo let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Fine.

Fuck it.

If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it his way.

Finding you wasn’t hard. You were always around the gym, watching his fights, teasing him after sparring sessions, lighting a fire in his chest that he couldn’t quite understand.

And just like always, there you were—sitting on the bench outside the gym, scrolling through your phone, waiting.

Waiting for him.

His stomach tightened at the sight.

He shoved the feeling aside and made his way toward you, stopping just a foot away.

You glanced up, a bright smile breaking across your face. “Oh, hey! Good fight tonight. You didn’t completely destroy the guy in the first round this time. Progress.”

He ignored the jab, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the slight tremor. “Come with me.”

You blinked, surprised. “Uh. Okay?”

You stood, raising an eyebrow, but didn’t argue when he began to walk away—leading you down the dimly lit street. The hum of the city buzzed around, cars thudding in the distance, the faint flickering of a streetlamp overhead matching the anxiety in his chest.

Finally, he stopped near an empty park, hands still deep in his pockets. The air felt electric, charged with anticipation and the weight of everything he was about to say.

You tilted your head, your curiosity making you even more breathtaking. “So… what’s up?”

He exhaled sharply, staring at the ground like it held the answers to all his questions.

Fuck.

Why was this so hard?

He could beat the hell out of seasoned fighters, could take punches that would knock most guys out, could bleed for his dream—but standing here, he felt utterly paralyzed.

His hands curled into fists with frustration.

Then, finally—

“I like you.”

Silence.

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Slowly, you blinked.

“…Wait. What?”

His jaw clenched. “You heard me.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, transforming your face into a canvas of joy. “I think I did. But you might have to say it again.”

His eye twitched. “I swear to god—”

You laughed, the sound like music ringing through the night.

It irritated him and thrilled him all at once, making his heart race faster.

You crossed your arms, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Okay, let’s pretend I didn’t already know that. Why do you like me?”

His stomach flipped, twisting in a whirlwind of nerves.

“Tch. The hell kinda question is that?”

“A very fair one.” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him to explain the impossible. “C’mon, Katsuki. If you’re gonna confess, do it right.”

His face burned hotter than a raging flame.

This is a mistake.

Why the hell am I doing this?

But he was already in too deep.

So, fuck it.

He took a tentative step closer.

Then another.

Until you were right there, just inches away, your teasing expression faltering as you realized the gravity of the moment.

His voice dropped lower, rough yet full of depth. “I like you because you don’t take my shit.”

You inhaled sharply, eyes wide with surprise.

“I like you because you don’t look at me like everyone else does.”

Your breath hitched, and he noticed the way your lips parted slightly.

“I like you because you’re in my goddamn head and I can’t get you out.”

Your gaze flickered down to his mouth, and he saw everything shift in your expression, a mix of surprise and something he dared to hope was desire.

And then—

He kissed you.

Hard.

It was a surge of emotion, raw and unrefined. All teeth, heat, and a desperate need, as if the world around them had vanished and there was only you and him in that moment.

This wasn’t some innocent little crush.

This was him breaking.

Breaking down walls that had stood for too long, walls that had been built to keep everyone—and everything—out. But you had found the cracks, slipped through them before he even realized what was happening, and now—now—he was caving.

Your fingers fisted into his shirt, desperate, pulling him closer like you couldn’t get enough. And fuck, that was all the encouragement he needed.

He growled against your lips, something raw and almost dangerous, his hands gripping your waist in a vice, holding you there, pinning you against him like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the goddamn earth.

You gasped, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss—hungry, reckless, all-consuming. It was messy, all teeth and heat and the undeniable, electric pull between you both.

He wasn’t thinking anymore.

He was just feeling.

You tasted like something dangerous. Something he couldn’t get enough of—like a match striking against gasoline, igniting something deep inside him that had been waiting to burn.

His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he let out a shaky, almost desperate breath against your mouth.

More.

He needed more.

The feeling of your body against his, the heat of your skin seeping into him, the way your nails raked up his back, sending a sharp shudder through his spine—it was fucking addictive.

He had been starving, and now that he had this, now that he had you, he didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to stop.

Your lips moved in sync, perfectly, like you had been waiting just as long for this—like you had wanted him all this time, too.

And when you moaned softly against him, he damn near lost his mind.

His hand slid up your back, pressing against the curve of your spine, holding you impossibly close, swallowing the sound like it was his—because it was.

You were his.

And the realization hit him harder than any punch he had ever taken.

By the time he pulled back, panting, his forehead pressing against yours, he could feel your breath against his lips—shaky, unsteady, just as wrecked as he was.

You looked up at him, lips swollen, eyes dazed, and fuck, he had never seen anything more perfect.

He smirked, but it was different this time—softer, but no less intense.

“Tch. Told you,” he muttered, his voice rough from the weight of everything he had just let go.

You exhaled, blinking up at him, breathless but grinning, and shit, that smile—that goddamn smile—made something inside him snap all over again.

“Okay. Yeah. That was definitely a confession.”

He huffed a laugh, his chest still heaving. “Damn right it was.”

And when you reached up, tracing your fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw, tilting his face back down to yours, he knew—he fucking knew.

There was no going back from this.

The world could go to hell, the entire damn boxing circuit could collapse, and he wouldn’t care.

In that moment, with the stars shining overhead and the world spinning just for them, Bakugo felt something shift inside. No longer just a fighter or a hot-headed boxer—he was yours.

And he wasn’t letting you go.

Mine, he thought, and he knew he was ready to face whatever came next—together.

And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid of wanting.

art creds: gsony24

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sugarwarachan · 2 months ago

Note

if you have anymore touchstarved!aizawa in the vault, dont be afraid to share 👀

nonnie i'm being so serious right now i have an insane amount of touchstarved! headcanons for this man, i think about his exhausted ass all day long 😩 part one here

touchstarved!aizawa who has a visceral hunger for you, mouth drying up and fists clenching whenever he sees you

touchstarved!aizawa who denies the attraction even while he’s panting into his sheets late at night, thinking about your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock

touchstarved!aizawa who’s so afraid of being hurt, but who practically collapses into you when you kiss him for the first time

touchstarved!aizawa who inhales you, big hands moving over your hips, your lower back, your shoulders, your neck—he can’t get you close enough

touchstarved!aizawa who works himself so slowly into you, hissing between his teeth when he bottoms out, hands like a vice around the meat of your hips, “that’s it sweetheart, ride me nice and slow—need to feel how badly you fuckin’ need me”

touchstarved!aizawa who loves nothing more than waking up with his thigh wedged between your cunt, your name already on his lips, one hand coming down to grind you against him, “good morning to you too princess” (biting my fingers off)

touchstarved!aizawa who's gotten one taste of you and vows never to go without you again

a/n: being a source of comfort for this man?? screaming into a pillow likes, comments, and reblogs always appreciated, more to come 😘

#sugarwarachanwrites #aizawa shouta #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #aizawa shota smut #aizawa shota #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa headcanons #sugarwarachananswers #aizawa fluff

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8turning · 2 years ago

Text

thank you for showing interest in my works! please refrain from spam liking any of my fics & happy reading! ♡

★ … ot6 !

nothing yet, come back soon!

★ … choi taeyang !

nothing yet, come back soon!

★ … yoon keeho !

nothing yet, come back soon!

★ … choi jiung !

nothing yet, come back soon!

★ … hwang intak !

nothing yet, come back soon!

★ … haku shota !

nothing yet, come back soon!

★ … kim jongseob !

nothing yet, come back soon!

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tired-teacher-blog · 8 months ago

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Aizawa teaches you how he likes it..

I don't even know what this is, but here, take it.

_ "Are you sure about this love?" he blinked a few times as a stunned expression took over the amused one he had on moments ago.

Your request was one that he has never heard you utter before now, and he had to make sure you meant every word coming out of your mouth.

_ "Yes! Yes I'm sure!" you grabbed onto his shirt as you finally settled on his lap, straddling and trapping him between your thighs, "I want to give you a blowjob." and your confidence and shamelessness were seriously baffling..

He needed to take a second and let it all sink in, you have never done this with him before, and he knows for a fact, that you have never done it with anyone else either, so what if it was too much for you to handle? He couldn't allow himself to hurt or overwhelm you in anyway.

However, the look on your face was one of determination and excitement for the experience, and he couldn't find it in himself to just say "no" to you, truth be told, he was instantly turned on the moment he heard the words leaving your mouth.

_ "Okay, fine, but there are a few things that you'll have to learn first, are you willing to do that?" he asked in a gentle tone as he placed his hands on your thighs.

_ "I'll do anything." and the smile brightening your features lured a loving one to appear upon his face.

_ "Alright sweetheart, first I need you to open your mouth slightly, can you do that for me?" he requested in a soothing voice while running his thumb along your soft lips.

You couldn't understand the meaning of his demand but didn't want to question him either, you trust him too much to doubt anything he does, and so, you nodded in agreement and did as he asked.

_ "That's it, that's my good girl," his sweet words filled you with pride, "now I'm going to put my finger in, and all I need you to do is close your mouth around it, is that okay for you?"

Heat was rising in your body, and the anticipation of what was coming sent a shiver up your spine.

You nodded fervently and watched as he slipped his index finger inside, before wrapping your lips around it.

_ "You're doing very well princess," you could clearly tell he was fighting the urge to let out a groan as he watched you following his orders obediently, "now, I need you to place your tongue on the tip of my finger and keep it there until I tell you otherwise, are you comfortable with that?"

Hearing him gently asking if you were okay with every step he took, warmed up your heart and made you want to learn quickly so you could make him feel as good as he always makes you feel.

You hummed around his digit and knitted your eyebrows in concentration as you twisted your tongue to press it against the tip of his finger.

_ "That's perfect, now stay like that for a moment."

Your eyes were shining in eagerness as they saw the amused smirk curving up his lips, and your heart was pounding in excitement as you waited for him to speak again.

_ "You're driving me out of my mind princess," he let out a frustrated sigh and licked his lips before carrying on, "listen carefully love, what I want you to do now is lick around my finger, is that okay?"

Your breath hitched in your throat while hearing his words, not because it was too much for you to follow, but because you weren't certain of your ability to handle anymore of this teasing.

You started moving your tongue carefully around his finger, covering every inch of the long digit inside your mouth while keeping your eyes on him the whole time.

He looked enticing as he coached you, with his luscious hair resting on his broad shoulders, his piercing eyes boring into you hungrily, and those lips– you wished nothing more than to have them on you, singing your praises and adding to your arousal.

_ "How lucky am I, fuck.. you really know how to rile me up don't you?" he chuckled amusedly and moved his other hand to squeeze your side before pulling you even closer to himself, letting you feel the forming bulge in his pants, and the discovery drove you wild as you unconsciously let out a muffled whine and pushed your hips against his, because you wanted even more of him.

_ "That's dangerous sweetheart, you know I'm already at my limit right?" he groaned the warning but did nothing to stop you, too bewitched by your advances to actually oppose you, "and now for the last step, I want you to start sucking on my finger like a lollipop, but be careful love, don't use your teeth okay?"

You followed his last command, eagerly sucking on it while moving your hips at the same time, you were going insane a little bit more each second that passed.

_ "Fuck sweetheart, do you have any idea how seductive you look right now?" he growled through gritted teeth before adding in a lower voice, "you do realize that the real thing is way bigger than just my finger right?"

You moand again as you sucked harder and faster, moving your fingers along his arm before clutching onto his hand to push it against your lips a little closer as you carried on.

He was in a daze watching you like that, and soon, his last ounce of self control slipped away as he suddenly pulled his finger out of your mouth, before holding your chin and staring at your reddened and swallowed lips with an eager expression that aroused you even more, "I think you're ready for me love, so just remember what I taught you alright?"

It was going to be fun for both of you, you were certain of it..

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

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sweetmisery · 3 months ago

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first kiss with piwon | maknae line

pairing: intak | soul | jongseob x female!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: pt 2 of sharing your first kiss with piwon, hope you like it :)

part 1 - hyung line

INTAK - Nervous Hearts

The cozy hum of the restaurant surrounded you, warm candlelight flickering between you and Intak as you sat at your table. The soft clink of silverware and low chatter of other diners created a soothing atmosphere, but you couldn’t help noticing how nervous Intak seemed.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his napkin, his gaze darting between you and the menu as if he were afraid to mess up even the simplest decision. You tried to keep the mood light, but a part of you wondered why he was so tense.

Then again, maybe you already knew.

Earlier in the week, Theo had let slip the reason for Intak’s nervousness.

“So,” Theo started, resting his arms on the guitar he was lazily strumming minutes before as he leaned back in his chair. “Intak likes you.”

Your heart skipped. The words hit you like a soft blow, and for a second, you weren‘t sure if you heard him right. “Wait- what?” you blurted, sitting up straighter.

Theo laughed, shaking his head. “You heard me.”

The disbelief bubbled up, and yet… it didn‘t. Not completely. You blinked at him, trying to piece together your thoughts, but all you can picture is Intak - confident, easygoing Intak - stumbling over his words the last time he talked to you. The way he avoided your eyes and suddenly seemed more interested in his shoelaces. The way his smile lingered just a little too long before he quickly looked away, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“You’re serious?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Dead serious.” Theo grinned, setting the guitar aside. “He told me himself.”

The admission sent another jolt through you. Intak told Theo? Theo, your protective, overbearing older brother? The idea was almost laughable.

“And?” you pressed, your curiosity outweighing your shock. “What did you say?”

Theo leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he gave you a pointed look. “I gave him the big-brother talk, of course.”

Your brows furrowed. “The big-brother talk?”

“You know, the ’don‘t hurt her or else‘ talk.” He shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Told him I’ll break his nose if he hurts you, that kind of thing. He looked like he was about to faint, though. Honestly, I think the guy’s more scared of disappointing you than me.”

You had just stared at him, completely floored. "You're unbelievable," you had muttered, pressing your palm to your forehead.

You were still processing the sheer absurdity of Theo having this conversation with Intak - your Intak, the one who practically radiated self-assurance on stage but turned into a completely different person around you.

Theo picked up his guitar again, strumming a lazy tune like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said casually.

“For what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For giving him the green light,” he said with a smirk. “Otherwise, he probably would’ve just kept staring at you from across the room like a weirdo.”

You groaned, throwing a pillow at him as he laughed. But beneath the teasing and the embarrassment, there was that same warm feeling growing inside you.

Intak liked you.

Theo’s expression softened, though there was still a mock sternness in voice. “But just so you know, I’m watching him. And you, too.”

Back in the present, you glanced at Intak as he nervously adjusted his silverware, his expression so earnest that you felt your heart soften even more.

“You okay?” you asked gently.

“Y-Yeah,” he said quickly, though his fingers fumbled as he reached for his glass. “I’m fine. Totally fine.”

But as soon as the words left his mouth, his hand slipped, and the glass tipped over. The dark liquid spilled across the table, pooling near your plate and dripping onto your dress.

Intak froze, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh no! I-I’m so sorry!” He frantically reached for napkins, but they scattered from his hands onto the floor.

You couldn’t help it - you laughed. The situation, his reaction, all of it was too endearing.

“Hey, it’s fine,” you said, holding up a hand to stop him before he knocked anything else over. “It’s just a little spill. Don’t worry about it.”

“But your dress-”

“I promise, it’s okay,” you said, smiling to reassure him. “Really.”

He slumped back in his chair, his face burning with embarrassment. “I… I don’t know why I’m so clumsy tonight.”

You tilted your head playfully. “I have a theory.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“You’re probably scared of Theo.”

His startled laugh broke through his nervous energy, and he finally met your gaze, his expression softening. “You’re not wrong about that.”

You grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from him.”

The playful comment seemed to relax him a little, and as the evening went on, the tension between you eased. But his clumsiness wasn’t finished yet.

The cool evening breeze brushing your face softly as you and Intak strolled down the path of the park. Dinner had been a mixture of laughter and clumsiness, but neither of you seemed to mind.

Intak walked a step behind you, his hands tucked nervously into his pockets. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but you could sense his lingering embarrassment from earlier.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” you teased, turning to look at him.

“I just…” He trailed off, looking up at the stars before glancing back at you. “I’m still kind of kicking myself about dinner. I spilled my drink, dropped the napkins… I must’ve looked so ridiculous.”

You stopped walking, stepping in front of him to block his path. “You know what I think?”

His eyes widened slightly as he tilted his head. “What?”

“I think your clumsiness made tonight even better.”

His cheeks turned pink, and he scratched the back of his neck. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m serious,” you said with a soft laugh, nudging his arm. “It’s cute when you’re nervous. You’re adorable, Intak.”

The words seemed to catch him off guard. He ducked his head, a shy smile spreading across his face.

You continued walking, spotting an empty bench under a nearby tree. “Let’s sit for a bit,” you suggested, gesturing toward it.

Intak followed and sat down beside you, though as he did, he misjudged the edge of the bench and nearly fell off. You burst into laughter as he quickly steadied himself, his face turning a deep shade of red.

“I swear I don’t normally do this,” he muttered, groaning.

“Sure, sure,” you teased, still laughing. “You’re just keeping me entertained, right?”

“Something like that,” he mumbled, slouching slightly. Then, his voice grew quieter. “I just… I don’t know why I’m like this tonight.”

You turned to look at him, tilting your head. “You don’t?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Okay, maybe I do. It’s because… I like you. A lot. And I wanted tonight to be perfect, but instead, I’ve been a walking disaster.”

His honesty made your chest feel warm, and a smile tugged at your lips. “Intak…”

Before he could finish his flustered apology, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His breath hitched in surprise, and when you pulled back, his wide-eyed expression made you giggle.

He raised a hand to touch his lips, his cheeks glowing red. “Wha… Did you just-”

“Yes, I did,” you said, cutting him off with a grin. “And for the record, tonight was perfect. Exactly because you were you.”

His lips twitched into a sheepish smile, and his gaze softened. “You really mean that?”

“Of course,” you said. “But just to make sure you believe me…” You leaned in again, this time kissing him a little longer.

When you pulled away, Intak looked completely dazed, his face lit up with an awkward yet happy smile. “You’re amazing,” he said quietly.

You laughed softly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “And you’re adorable. So, stop worrying so much.”

For the first time that evening, Intak relaxed completely. The two of you sat there on the bench, your head resting on his shoulder and your fingers brushing lightly as the night carried on around you.

SOUL - One Step Closer

The clock on your desk blinked 11:47 PM, its numbers glowing faintly in the dimly lit office. Most of the staff had left hours ago, the once-bustling corridors of the label now eerily silent. You rubbed your tired eyes, a small pile of notes and schedules still waiting for your attention. You’d been organizing P1Harmony’s upcoming schedules for weeks, ensuring every detail was perfect. They worked so hard; the least you could do was support them.

As you tidied up your papers, a sudden thought made your stomach sink. My purse. You’d left it in the practice room earlier when you were running errands. Letting out a small groan, you grabbed your jacket and headed for the elevators. The practice room was on the third floor, and with every step closer, you braced yourself for the faint hope it wouldn’t still be locked.

When you arrived, however, the sound of muffled music greeted you through the door. It wasn’t just anyone practicing - this was P1Harmony’s practice room.

Curious, you opened the door cautiously and peeked inside. There he was: Soul.

Dressed in casual sweats and a tank top, his hair slightly damp from sweat, he moved to the beat with precision, repeating the same step over and over. You leaned against the doorframe, watching his determination. His members always joked that he was an “alien,” someone who could be weird and out of this world, but to you, his quirks were nothing short of adorable.

You cleared your throat gently, and Soul spun around, startled. His expression softened when he saw it was you. “Oh, it’s just you,” he said, breathing hard. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, stepping inside. “It’s so late. Why aren’t you resting?”

He smiled faintly, brushing back a strand of hair from his forehead. “I needed more practice. There are still parts I keep messing up.”

“Messing up?” you echoed, incredulous. “Soul, you were incredible today. Everyone thought so.”

But his smile faltered. He dropped his gaze to the floor, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I’m nervous about the comeback,” he admitted softly. “I don’t want to mess up and disappoint the fans. They expect so much from us, and I… I don’t know if I’m good enough.”

Hearing his doubt struck a chord in you. You’d never seen him so vulnerable before. “Soul,” you said firmly, walking closer. “You’re amazing. You’re one of the most talented dancers I’ve ever seen. Your fans love you, they adore everything about you. There’s no way you could ever disappoint them.”

His eyes met yours, searching, as if trying to find truth in your words. Finally, he sighed and gave a small nod. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I needed to hear that.”

A silence settled between you, comfortable yet charged. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “Do you want to learn the dance?”

“What?” you laughed, taken aback. “Soul, you know I can’t dance.”

He grinned, his usual playful side returning. “Everyone can dance if they want to. Come on, I’ll teach you.” Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the center of the room.

For the next few minutes, you stumbled through the choreography, laughing at yourself while Soul patiently guided you through each move. He showed you the steps slowly, his hand resting lightly on your waist as he adjusted your posture or corrected your footing. His touch was warm, grounding, but it also sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

You felt at ease with him, even when you messed up. His laughter filled the room, infectious and pure, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. For a brief moment, it felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

Then it happened. You slipped on the polished floor, your footing giving way. Before you could hit the ground, Soul caught you.

His arm wrapped securely around your waist, his other hand steadying your shoulder. You were so close, his face mere inches from yours. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in surprise. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, your breath caught somewhere in your chest. The world seemed to slow down as you locked eyes with him. Time hung suspended, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

“Soul,” you murmured, interrupting whatever he was about to say. You leaned in and pressed your lips softly to his.

Soul froze.

The kiss was soft, fleeting, but it carried so much that you’d been holding back for what felt like forever. Your heart raced as you leaned back slightly to gauge his reaction. His eyes were wide, his lips still parted in surprise.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, suddenly unsure. “I didn’t mean to-”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance. “No,” he interrupted quickly, his voice soft. “Don’t be sorry.”

The corner of his lips quirked upward, a small, shy smile spreading across his face. The warmth in his eyes made your chest tighten, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t plan for you to find out like this,” you admitted, your cheeks burning. “I just… I couldn’t help myself.”

Soul’s smile grew a little wider as he let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess we’re both full of surprises tonight.”

You chuckled nervously, but before you could say anything else, Soul spoke again. “You know,” he said, glancing down, “sometimes I feel like I’m not… normal. Like, maybe I don’t fit in with everyone else. The guys always joke that I’m weird, and I laugh it off, but…” He paused, his voice trailing off.

Your heart ached at his words. “Soul,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “That’s what makes you you. The way you think, the way you are - it’s what makes you special. I’ve always loved that about you.”

The word “loved” hung in the air between you, but you didn’t take it back. You wanted him to know.

Soul’s gaze lifted to meet yours again, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made you hold your breath. “You really mean that?” he asked softly.

“Of course,” you replied. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. The small gesture sent a wave of warmth through you. Then, after a moment, he tilted his head slightly. “So… does this mean I get to teach you the rest of the dance now?”

You burst out laughing, the tension in the room breaking. “Soul!”

“What?” he said, grinning. “I mean, you’ve got potential. I think we could make a good team.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he countered, his grin widening. “But seriously…” He hesitated, then stepped a little closer, his expression softening. “Thank you. For everything you said earlier - and for this.”

Before you could reply, he leaned in and kissed you. This time, the kiss lingered, unhurried and full of unspoken feelings. When he pulled back, his face was tinged with the faintest blush.

“You’re amazing,” he said simply, his voice steady but quiet.

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a smile tugging at your lips. “So are you,” you whispered.

He exhaled deeply, glancing toward the clock on the far wall. “It’s late. We should probably call it a night.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, though part of you didn’t want to leave this moment behind.

As you both made your way toward the door, you paused and turned back to him. “Wait,” you said, and he raised a curious eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“There’s one more thing I need to do before we leave,” you said, stepping closer.

Soul tilted his head, clearly puzzled. “What?”

You leaned in and kissed him again. This time, his lips curved into a smile against yours, and when you pulled back, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Okay,” he said, laughing softly. “Now we can leave.”

The two of you walked out of the practice room together, the quiet hallways of the label feeling a little less empty as your footsteps echoed side by side.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, you were content.

JONGSEOB - Unexpectedly Us

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays seeping through the narrow windows of the studio as you stepped into the familiar building. Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you glanced at the message again. It was from Jongseob: “Can you come to the studio? I need help with something.”

Your heartbeat quickened, though you weren’t sure why. You had been by his side for years now: his best friend, his constant cheerleader, the one who always answered his calls. But there was something about him asking for your help in moments like this that made you feel… special. Maybe it was because you’d seen his journey from the very start, since the first time he nervously auditioned as a trainee, barely daring to dream of becoming an idol.

When you reached the door to the recording studio, you heard muffled sounds coming from inside. Pushing it open, you saw him immediately. There he was, standing in the booth, long hair tied into a half ponytail, strands falling loosely against his sharp features. He looked frustrated, pacing back and forth, muttering words under his breath as if rehearsing something he just couldn’t get right.

You’d never seen him like this before - so wound up and on edge. Usually, Jongseob radiated a quiet confidence, the kind that came naturally with his undeniable talent. You leaned against the mixing console, watching him for a moment, hesitating to interrupt his thoughts.

Finally, you pressed the button for the booth speaker and said teasingly, “You needed my help?”

The sound of your voice startled him. He jumped slightly and turned toward you, wide-eyed.

“Yah!” he exclaimed, clutching his chest dramatically. “You scared me!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and as your laughter filled the room, his lips curved into a smile. Small at first, but then growing wider, accompanied by that high-pitched giggle you’d always loved.

He stepped closer to the booth window, his hands resting against the glass. “I need help with this rap,” he admitted, his tone softening. “I just… I can’t get it right.”

You nodded and took a seat on the other side of the console. “Alright. Show me what you’ve got so far.”

As he returned to the microphone, you settled in, resting your chin on your hand. Watching him like this, immersed in his work, focused, and pouring his emotions into every line, made your chest tighten in ways you didn’t fully understand. His voice was like a rhythm that only he could master, each word laced with a passion that had always made your heart flutter.

But today, that fluttering feeling was almost overwhelming. You shook your head, trying to focus on helping him, not on the way his jaw tensed when he concentrated, or how his hair fell into his eyes when he tilted his head.

When he finally finished recording the verse, he stepped out of the booth, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His long hair was slightly disheveled, and his cheeks were faintly pink from exertion.

“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You broke into applause, grinning. “That was amazing. Honestly, I don’t know why you even needed my help.”

He giggled again,higher this time, a little shy, and your heart clenched. You wanted to freeze this moment, to hold onto the sound of his laugh forever.

“I mean it,” you continued, standing up. “Why do you always call me when you need help? You could ask one of the producers, or someone with more experience-”

“Because…” he interrupted, looking down at his hands. His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “Because I feel like whenever you’re around, I’m at ease. The words… they just come naturally when you’re here.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his confession sinking in.

“Jongseob…” you murmured, unsure of what to say. But before you could gather your thoughts, he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone firmer this time. “It’s not just today. It’s always been like this. Whenever you’re around, I feel different. And lately…” He trailed off, playing with his fingers nervously. “Lately, it’s been getting stronger.”

“What are you saying?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. “I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling yet, but… I know I don’t want to hide it anymore. Not from you.”

Your heart raced, the weight of his words leaving you breathless. You took a step closer to him, his familiar scent enveloping you. “Jongseob…”

He held up a hand, his cheeks flushed. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I know this is-”

“Wait,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “You’re not the only one who feels this way.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

You smiled, your chest tightening with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. “Yeah. I do.”

He let out a high-pitched giggle, the sound filling the small studio. You couldn’t stop yourself. You took another step toward him, cupping his face gently in your hands. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and his cheeks burned red.

“That laugh,” you said softly, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “That’s exactly why I fell for you.”

His lips parted as if to respond, but before he could, you leaned in, your heart pounding. Your lips brushed his, a tentative, fleeting touch, and the world seemed to pause.

For a second, neither of you moved. The soft press of your lips against his felt both surreal and electric, like a line you’d both been toeing for years had suddenly disappeared. But when you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his expression, you were met with a sight you’d never forget.

Jongseob’s eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly in shock, and his cheeks burned an even deeper shade of red. His long lashes fluttered as he blinked at you, clearly at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue?” you teased, your voice light, though your heart was racing.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, his brows furrowing as he tried to process what had just happened. You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, it wasn’t often you saw Jongseob so completely flustered.

“Yah,” he finally muttered, his voice low and shaky. He glanced down, avoiding your eyes, but the redness in his cheeks betrayed him. “What was that?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm, I think they call that a kiss.”

He groaned, dragging a hand through his hair as if trying to hide his face. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

You grinned, stepping closer to him again. “Oh, come on, you’re the one who basically confessed first. What, you didn’t expect me to do something about it?”

“I didn’t expect you to-” He cut himself off, turning his back to you as if to regain his composure. “I was trying to be serious…”

“And I was serious too,” you interrupted, your tone softening. “I meant it when I said I felt the same way.”

He turned to face you again, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the teasing stopped. The air between you grew heavy with unspoken feelings, and you could see the vulnerability in his gaze.

“Really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not just… saying that to mess with me?”

You sighed, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him. “Jongseob, do I look like I’m joking?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No,” he murmured.

“Good,” you said with a small smile. Then, unable to resist the chance to tease him again, you added, “But seriously, you should’ve seen your face just now. You looked like a deer in headlights.”

His mouth fell open, and you could see the mixture of embarrassment and indignation flash across his features. “Yah! Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” you asked innocently, biting back a laugh.

“Make fun of me!” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is already hard enough, and you’re just- ugh.” He let out a frustrated groan, but you could see the faint smile tugging at his lips despite his protests.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not sounding sorry at all. “But you make it so easy. You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Stop,” he whined, hiding his face in his hands.

Your laughter filled the studio again, and when he peeked at you through his fingers, his pout made your chest ache in the best way. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” you said, raising your hands in surrender. “But seriously, you’re not mad, right?”

He dropped his hands and gave you a long look. “Mad?” He paused, then shook his head, his expression softening. “No. I don’t think I could ever be mad at you.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension between you shifted, turning quieter, sweeter.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. “You know I really do love your giggle, right? It’s kind of my favorite thing about you.”

“Why do you keep bringing that up?” he mumbled, his ears turning red. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” you insisted. “It’s adorable. Just like you.”

His eyes widened, and you could see his ears turning an even deeper shade of red. “You’re seriously going to kill me,” he muttered, looking away.

You smiled and reached out, taking his hand in yours. “I mean it, Jongseob. You’re amazing - onstage, in the studio, and… just as you are. You don’t have to figure everything out right now. I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing against yours, and when he glanced back up at you, his expression was softer, calmer.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “For being here. For… everything.”

“Always,” you replied, squeezing his hand gently.

For a moment, it felt like the world outside the studio didn’t exist - just you, him, and the quiet hum of the equipment around you.

And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you added with a playful grin, “But seriously, next time you call me for ‘help,’ at least give me a warning before you make me fall for you all over again.”

He laughed - soft at first, then louder, that high-pitched giggle you loved spilling out of him. “You’re so annoying,” he said, shaking his head.

“And yet, here you are, holding my hand,” you shot back.

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

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zeroseuniverse · 28 days ago

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Clueless

Word Count: 468 Summary:He shrugs again, but you catch the tiniest hint of a smirk. “You’re still talking to me, though.” You laugh. “Yeah. Guess I am.” Pairing: Soul X reader

Taglist: @sh0dor1

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“You don’t get it,” you sigh, running a hand down your face. “I have a lot of bottled-up emotions.”

Soul blinks at you, his usual unreadable expression somehow looking even blanker. “Break the bottle.”

You pause. “That’s not how metaphors wor—”

“Where is it?” He stands up, glancing around with unsettling determination. “If you’re too scared to do it, I’ll do it.”

It takes you a second to process what’s happening. “Wait. Soul.” You grab his wrist before he actually starts searching for a real bottle. “It’s not—there’s no actual bottle.”

His brows furrow, lips pressing into a thin line. “You just said there was.”

You sigh again, this time with more fond exasperation. “It’s a metaphor, Soul. I mean I have a lot of emotions built up inside me, like they’re trapped in a bottle.”

He tilts his head. “So… you want to break it?”

You groan. “Not literally.”

Soul stares at you for a long moment before finally sitting back down. “That’s stupid. If you’re gonna bottle something up, at least use something stronger than glass.”

You blink. “That’s—" You stop, realizing there’s no point in arguing. Instead, you shake your head and laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. “You’re the worst person to vent to.”

He shrugs. “You’re still talking to me, though.”

You can’t even argue with that.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’m a lost cause.”

Soul leans back against the couch, arms crossed, watching you with that same unreadable expression. “So… if you’re not actually talking about a bottle, how do you break it?”

You hesitate. That’s actually a good question. “I don’t know. I guess you just… let it out? Talk about it?”

He nods slowly like he’s trying to process this completely foreign concept. “Or punch something,” he suggests.

You snort. “Right. Because violence is always the answer.”

Soul shrugs, dead serious. “Sometimes.”

You let out another small laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s gonna help me, though.”

He’s quiet for a second, then says, “Then do what you just did.”

“Huh?”

“You laughed,” he points out simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If breaking the bottle means letting it out, you already did it.”

You blink at him. The thought is so simple yet oddly profound coming from someone who just tried to locate a nonexistent bottle five minutes ago.

“I guess I did,” you admit.

He nods, satisfied, and leans back into his usual comfortable silence.

After a moment, you nudge his arm. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

He shrugs again, but you catch the tiniest hint of a smirk. “You’re still talking to me, though.”

You laugh. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

#p1h imagines #p1h #p1harmony #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony imagines #piwon x reader #piwon imagines #piwon fluff #piwon fanfic #p1h oneshots #p1h x reader #soul x reader #p1h soul #soul p1harmony #soul fluff #haku shota #shota x reader #shota fluff #soul imagines

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animeaandp · 8 months ago

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MHA Prompt

“Need something..?”

You hesitate hearing the exhaustion in his voice; maybe this was a mistake. It’s the middle of the night but there’s no one else to turn to, so you try not to grip the doorknob too tightly or fumble your words. “I’m sorry, I know it’s past lights out and you’re busy…u-um…” Aizawa picks up the conflict in your voice and fully turns towards you. Dragging his hand over his face to wake up, he gives you his undivided attention. “No it’s alright. What do you need?” His voice had softened but it’s difficult to hold his eye contact. "I…If-.."

"...?"

"..If it’s not asking too much; may I sit in here? I swear not to distract you. Everyone else is asleep and, I don’t want to be alone right now...please.." Aizawa studies your face, noting the drained complexion with raw and puffy eyes, and understands that this isn’t a simple request. “Of course. Come in.” You close the door behind you “thank you” then hurriedly find a spot on the floor against the wall and curl into your knees. Aizawa watched your movements but left you to your devices and turned back to his work. Occasionally he steals a glance but you stay true to your word and don’t make a sound or move an inch.

Thankfully, being in his presence helps how you hoped it would. Every breath you take smells like him and knowing he’s here makes you feel safe, like nothing can hurt you now. Hopefully you’ll calm down enough to go back to your room soon. Aizawa sets his pencil down though, and comes to offer you his hand. “The bed is far more comfortable than the floor. Fresh sheets I promise.” You lift your head for a moment considering his words but “I’m okay right here. I’m imposing enough as is..” He smiles turning away, “you could never impose” and grabs a box of tissues to give you “but holding in whatever is troubling you this much.,.I don’t like that.”

“…”

You accept the tissues and your tears finally break free. "I’m sorry" you try hiding it as he takes a seat beside you. "It’s okay. It’s safe to cry here." He wraps an arm around your shoulder and welcomes you to let it all out. You wanted to stop but “I don’t know what’s wrong with me…I-I don’t know why I’m so sad all the time-but, I’m empty. I feel this ache when I’m alone and more and more when I’m not…it’s starting to scare me; I don’t know how to cope anymore…that’s why I came here. I needed to run away somewhere…I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do..” Aizawa's heart grows heavy with every confession and he holds you tighter. "Always run to me-always. Never let this fear talk you out of that. Understand.?"

“You have so much to deal with; I don’t want to become a burden. But, I appreciate all of this. I feel better.” He sighs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. This would take one step at a time, so tonight was plenty for step one; he'll let it go for now. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“…Can I stay until you’re done working?”

“Of course, get some rest.”

As the night goes on the atmosphere settles. The steady rhythm of Aizawa’s pen scratching against paper and his soft sighs of concentration creates soothing background noise. When he looks up again you’re fast asleep. He smiles and is careful not to make a sound walking over and crouching down in front of you. Little did you know he finished his work quite some time ago and was hoping this would happen before he ran out of paper to scribble over. His finger traces lazy circles over your cheek, drying the last of your tears. He shifts your body to rest in his arms “I won’t lose you to such nasty thoughts..” and carries you to his bed, then tucks you in. It felt like sleeping in a cloud and you curl into his pillow. He chuckles, “Is it really that comfortable?” Aizawa sorts the work on his desk then lays down himself, and after such a long day falls asleep easily. Hopefully you'd seek him out again the next time this happened, but maybe skip the floor, his knees weren't what they were.

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captainshindo · 8 months ago

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weak y/n? Healing quirk y/n? Quirkless y/n?

Naaah

Thinking bout reader with Erza type quirk (aka Requip) or Mirajane type quirk(aka Take Over) :0

She clearly dominates Class 1A and beats everyone in a fight with no “I’m not strong enough” or “got to catch up with everyone else” bullshit, shes THE shit and the realest mf out there <3

She was also close to beating Aizawa during training and that made everyone crazy for her while Bakugou crashing out on the sidelines.

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yyawnjun · 7 months ago

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hello! hehe can i req how piwon would act with s/o who have lower body temperature on average? like wydm you're shivering... it's autumn. tqvm babe!!!! 😆

PIWON with a s/o who has lower body temperature on average

AYY!! first piwon ask, it felt so special, tysm for requesting it. I hope I get it right, like his s/o is actually" feel the cold"(tell me if I didn't get it, I will change and rewrite). I hope you will like it <3 ; I also wrote hcs for the first timee, how are we feeling !!

fluff ; @sobun1est MY FAAAVVV PROOFREADER even during my phone cb </3 ; 1.7k wc ; @kflixnet

YOON KEEHO

☆ i feel he'd be confused at first, like wdym you mentioned that you needed to take your jacket when your going out during a SUMMER night for your date.

☆ if there would have been a little breeze, it should not have been THAT cold. anyway he remembered what you said, and when you were about to leave your place to go out for dinner he noticed that you didn't take your jacket.

☆ he was about to remind you, but he saw first HIS jacket lying on the sofa. so he opted to bring it…so you'd be forced to wear his

☆ even though you had warned him that you were more sensitive to the cold than the others bc of your low body temperature, he was still shocked when he noticed that you were starting to feel cold while you were walking near the sea.

☆ he was holding your hand and he noticed it getting colder, and you were shivering while looking for your coat.

☆ “were you looking for this” he'd say in the most cheesy tone ever while handing you his jacket

☆ you'd be confused at first bc you were searching YOURS.

☆ but then you'd accept it after realizing the sweet gesture, and he just laughs a bit, trying to be cool but internally feeling so proud while seeing you with his jacket!!!!

☆ I feel this would happen so many times that you'd just start always using his jackets instead of yours. they still smelled like him and reminded you of him, plus his style is fire; a total win for you (and for him)

☆ I also think that you'd have to remind him a few times about your low body temperature, and even so, he'd have trouble remembering, but it would become like a tradition for him to ALWAYS bring an extra jacket to give you 😭😭.

CHOI TAEYANG

☆ here me out. third date with theo, and you're sitting on a bench in a park. It's like late evening on an autumn day, so it was a bit colder than usual and a light wind was moving the leaves.

☆ while he was talking, you'd start shaking a bit, trying to keep it cool for as much as you can while doing your best to not look too mesmerized by the big jacket he was wearing.

☆ he had immediately noticed that your outfit was too light for the evening (but in your defense, it was too cute to be covered up!) but he hadn't said anything (except how pretty you looked)

☆ he would notice how cold you were, but he would also be quite cold because of the weather.... so in the first few minutes, he would be torn between offering you his jacket or not (you did not dare to ask him for it…)

☆ BUT IN THE END OFC HE GAVE IT TO YOU, without saying anything…just in time for you to not catch a cold.

☆(he would then feel guilty for doing it so late when you explained to him that bc of your lower temperature, you felt much more the cold,,)

☆ he would scold you a little because you were dressed too lightly!!!. and you needed to take care of yourself (otherwise, how could you have gone out on dates again!).

☆ but I promise he'd BLUSH so hard after hearing that you cared so much about your outfit for him that you choose it over your own good😭😭

☆ in the end, I also feel that it would be you two sharing his jacket on the bench (on one hand bc he wanted to be closer to you, on the other bc you needed more warmth!)

☆ and he was getting cold too, but he'd never admit it </3.

☆ it would be just the two of you, sharing the same jacket as a comforting warmth spread.

HWANG INTAK

☆ I feel intak would be the exact opposite of you

☆ he'd be like a warm heater all of the time. I think that just being around him would warm you up.

☆ and oh boy, how much he'd use this excuse to stay closer to you.

☆ “we need to sit next to each other! bc what if you start getting colder and we are far away” - cit intak after moving his chair next to yours in a romantic restaurant just bc he wanted to eat next to you.

☆ he'd be your personal giant hotpack 24/7, and when he isn't w you, he'd give you some of his hot packs/hoodies to use in case you needed

☆ how much he'd brag about your different "perception” of temperature. he would use this excuse to grab your hand ALWAYS, no matter if you were actually shivering or not

☆ like imagine you're mad at him, and hes just like a super sweet golden retriever that came closer to you and take your hand

☆ “otherwise you would be cold” he whispers while not looking at you.

☆ and HOW can you stay mad at him, while his hand is warming up yours and you two are walking together..and your gazes keep meeting..

☆ or imagine sharing a blanket with him during a cold winter; while watching TV you'd have not only the warmth from the cozy blanket but also from the heat of your boy!!

☆ (And I picture him wearing only a light shirt and short pants while being a heater for you without even noticing but LOVING the closeness to you).

CHOI JIUNG

☆ I feel he'd be the most WORRIED and so the most caring between all of them <3

☆ not only hotpack, but also scarfs, jackets, hats, etc. his backpack would always be so full of things to keep you warm anytime😭

☆ I can see him even find out about the “causes” and what he could do to help you in all situations; esp at first he'd keep asking how you wereand if you needed something

☆ imagine being at a party with jiung, maybe you were there with your friends now sitting somewhere while laughing and drinking

☆ and you suddenly feel something or someone putting his arms around your shoulders and his head on yours.

☆ “your face is cold” he said after kissing your cheeks. “wanna go home?” he'd ask you. and after you asked for five more minutes he'd RUN to bring you his jacket <3

☆ and the way he'd giggle and smile when he sees how helpful he is everytime.

☆ this boy would ended up forgetting to bring his own things to always have yours, and you'd force him to wear your sweaters

☆ and now you'd be the one giggling and smiling for his new style. <3

HAKU SHOTA

☆ silently helping you ALWAYS. I imagine it while you were waiting for the bus to come and you'd start shaking a little, maybe complaining out loud how cold the weather was getting

☆ the boy wouldn't wait a sec before taking you by the hand and bringing you to the nearest coffee shop. hot chocolate? hot tea? yes. you'd have that in front of you before you could even REALIZE where you were.

☆ “put some sugar, it will help to your temperature to come back to normal”

☆ I feel that in some magic way he'd already known that you were getting too cold outside. and no matter how important it was to take that bus, your health was more important anyway.

☆ and i feel he would start memorizing some coffee places to bring you in case you were out and you were feeling cold all of sudden.

☆ i am so sure he'd always have hot packs with the funniest decorations for you

☆ and he'd always remind you to bring your coats, you two would even have like one specific emoji and you'd just remember to bring it

☆ “we should hold hands, so mines can warm yours” he'd say naturally while taking your hand (and blushing a lot but w/o adding anything or looking at you)

☆ so you two would just start walking hand in hand, saying that it was for your own good!(And you and you have never denied this…)

KIM JONGSEOB

☆ I feel he'd find it funny how you were always cold while it was so hot outside. he’d tease you at first, "c’mon it's autumn and you are already so cold..this winter might be the end of you"

☆ but as soon as you'd take five minutes to explain him how the affects you the fact that have lower body temperature on average he'd feel bad for joking about it and he'd start taking you more seriously 😭

☆ still, it would take him a while to get used to it. and there would have been times when you two would be forced to run a bit bc you were starting to be really cold. and he had no other options other than “run a little to warm up”

☆ i can't stop picturing seob and his s/o while walking together during an early morning(maybe going to school together!!) and by chance seeing a cat on the street.

☆ you would immediately get closer to the cat and seob would follow. you two would slowly try to get closer to pet the cat and you'd magically succeed!! you two would start petting the cat and he would feel how cold your hands were.

☆ “yn are you cold?” he says while gently stocking your hands.

☆ and one slight nod was enough for him to take your hands and try to use his to warm you up. he would take your hands and caress them, while bringing them closer to his face to give you hot air and warm them up.

☆ and if this isn't enough he'd have the perfect idea after remembering how cats were able to warm themselves thanks to their fur.

☆ and now there is two options for how it goes

☆ OPTION ONE: he manages to take the cat and gently put it on your legs. so now you just sit with him next to you, while the warm of the cat would warm u up too <3

☆ OPTION TWO: you two would ended up running after that poor cat, and you would inevitability warm up bc of the run (run method never fails)😭

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ladyymiisa · 8 months ago

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RISE AND SHINE!

summary: mornings with shouta might be a challenge, but you still love him unconditionally, even when he's being a total pain.

tags: aizawa shouta x fem!reader, fluff, shouta is an insufferable little shit in this so i’m sorry if it seems a bit ooc

author’s note: misa writing about someone who’s not hawks? absolutely crazy. anyway, eat up my children!! (i wish he would eat me instead)

mornings with shouta can go one of two ways:

1. you wake up first, only to be sweetly persuaded into remaining in bed with him for another hour or so. this usually happens on the weekends.

2. you wake up first and are confronted with the formidable task of ensuring that your boyfriend gets out of bed on time to attend to his responsibilities as both a pro hero and a teacher.

today happens to be the second scenario.

“come on, shouta,” you urge, attempting to pull the blanket from his body, only to succeed in moving it a mere millimeter from his grasp. even freshly awake, his grip remains unyielding—a trait whose logic you’ll never quite comprehend.

with a sigh of frustration, you give the blanket another tug, this time applying more force. “your alarm has rung three times already. how much longer do you intend to lounge around?” you ask, your annoyance evident.

shouta remains silent and you find yourself sighing once again.

this won’t do. he should have been out the door by now, and you’re pretty sure nezu will give him another reprimand for being late once again. there’s only so much he’ll let slide.

with your lips pressed together, you silently watch shouta. you observe the steady rise and fall of his chest as he dozes off peacefully, without a care in the world. a few unruly strands of hair have fallen across his eyes, partially obscuring his face from view. perfect.

it's time to resort to plan b.

with your plan set in motion, you roll your shoulders, savoring the satisfying pops of your joints, then position yourself, ready for action. without an ounce of hesitation, you allow your body to collapse onto his like a ragdoll, face landing straight against his bare chest. this action finally elicits a response from shouta.

he grunts in disapproval, partly due to the unexpected impact of your body landing atop his own without warning, but makes no effort to push you away. instead, he remains there, defeated and motionless.

"get off." he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"only if you get up." you retort.

you feel the low rumble in his chest as he grumbles once more. a few seconds of silence pass, and just as you begin to think you might have won, his arms unexpectedly wrap around you, securing you in place.

this prompts you to gasp in offence and struggle against his grip, but your efforts are in vain. shouta has no intention of letting you go so easily, not when the warmth of your body nearly lulls him back into slumber. you let out a whine, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

the fucking bastard is smirking triumphantly.

with a resigned sigh, you allow your head to fall against his chest once more. something tells you that shouta won’t be the only one getting an earful from nezu today.

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sugarwarachan · 1 month ago

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Hello hello! I love ALL of your MHA stuff! Your fics and hcs for a certain teacher are just on POINT 😩🤌🏻

I have a teeny request.... Domestic fluff for Zawa when?

Ty ty!! I'm not quite sure if this qualifies, but it's so soft. I wanted an excuse to have Aizawa say "ily" a bunch of times and also sort of play into that Jenny Slate quote, "Who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?"

aizawa knows he loves you the minute he comes home to you making dinner in his clothes.

it's a mixture of things: the possessive churn in his gut at seeing his shirt barely skim past your ass, the gentle hum of your voice singing alongside the radio—the realization settles over him so easy it's like drawing breath.

you let out a surprised gust of air when his arms tug you against his chest.

"shouta!" you laugh, and it's unbearable almost, how heavenly he finds this moment to be. he absorbs your smile with a kiss. "what's gotten into you?"

he's not the most affectionate man. he tries to show his love for you through his actions, but aizawa wonders now if distrusting his ability to put his feelings into words is more cowardice than strategy.

to love you is to potentially lose you. he's known that from the beginning. the possibility exists that one day you might not be here in his arms, wearing his Present Mic shirt that you tease him mercilessly over and looking at him like he's capable of offering you the moon rather than the actual exhausted life of a pro-hero.

"i love you," he blurts out, and your eyes soften with such overwhelming affection he suddenly can't stop saying it. "i love you," he repeats against your neck, tracing his thumb over the red mark he sucked into the skin that morning. "i love you," a hoarse rasp as he reclaims your lips.

he has to accept what he can't control, and the loss of you is one. he can only control something as simple and beautiful as this, peppering his love onto your blushing cheeks as you put on the tea.

#receiving comfort is so tender and beautiful #such an earned respect thing for aizawa i feel #and that i love you has been brewing for months if not years #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa fluff #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa shota x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #andy answers #sugarwarachanwrites

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katsukistofu · 8 months ago

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PLEASE (if you feel like it) WRITE FOR AIZAWA! A SICK READER TROPE MAYBE?

Btw ur fics are so good and are part of the reason why I’ve gotten back into mha <333 I love ur writing style sm and ur hawks fics??? That was amazing

hi my love! thank you so much omg that’s so sweet, i’m happy i helped you rekindle your love for mha again lol! <3

sick (but never of you)

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ s. aizawa x fem reader. fluff. cursing. 997 words ★ your husband insists on taking care of you when you fall ill, despite your protests.

Not this shit again.

You groan as your eyes flutter open for the second time after you said you were fine, then proceeded to dramatically faint in Shota’s arms in the middle of your patrol and sit up, hurriedly tossing the pile of soft blankets off your body.

You shiver despite the warmth radiating from the heater nearby. Shota must have brought it out for you after getting you home.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The disapproving voice of your husband floats over, and there he is, leaning on the doorway with a steaming bowl of something in his hands. You perk up despite yourself. Miso soup?

“I don’t have time to sleep off a little cold, Shota!” Your arms tremble as you try to force yourself off of the plush king-sized bed. “It’s already past nine, I have to head to the agency.”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask.” Shota wraps his arms around you to trap you in place, ignoring your insistent budging. “You’re staying home today with the cat.”

“But—But they need me…” You weakly mumble in his firm grip. It was no use trying to break free, and you’re not sure if you even want to anymore with how nice he feels against you.

“And I need you here.” His stern gaze doesn’t waver, and his hand guides your head from the back of your hair, which you’re certain looks like a disaster zone right now, to rest on his chest. “It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, happy and healthy.”

Shota brushes a hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. The little beads of sweat on your skin don’t bother him in the slightest.

“So let me do my job.”

“Are you using your teacher voice on me?” You grumble into the dark fabric of his sleeveless shirt. He smells warm and like all things good, as if he just came out of the shower.

“I vaguely recall someone commenting that it was ‘hot.” Shota’s gravelly voice teases your ear and his stubble tickles your cheek as he smirks, knowing he’s won the battle when he finally feels you melt in defeat against him.

He brushes a soft kiss to your forehead. “Stay in bed, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” You say in a tiny voice, weakly slumping back into the sheets.

Shota comes back with a spoon and a folded piece of paper. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips as he holds it out to you.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that wants you to stay home.”

Your eyes widen as you look at the get-well card in your hands.

feel beter soon!! lots of loove, eri it said, with millions of tiny hearts doodled around your name. You choke back a sob as your eyes fall onto the little stick figure drawings of you pushing the little gray-haired girl on a swing set.

It looked just like the one from the playground nearby that you would often take her to on your days off.

us when youre not sick anymor! :D

“Shota, give me that damn soup.”

He chuckles deeply and scoots closer on the bed to feed you. You squeeze your eyes shut as a sharp throb suddenly pierces through your head.

“The room’s spinning again, that’s not normal is it?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Shota’s forehead creases in concern, bringing the spoon of warm soupy goodness up to your lips while his other hand holds yours.

You part your lips to drink it, letting the rich, comforting flavor of miso spread across your tongue.

Letting out a little sigh of relief, you’re about to lean back before Shota sets the bowl down on the nightstand to prop up the pillows behind you, making sure you’re comfortable before he picks it back up again and holds up another spoonful to your mouth.

“Come on, one more for me sweetheart.”

“Not hungry anymore,” you huff, turning your head away from his outstretched hand.

He lifts an eyebrow.

“We can cuddle after you take your medicine.”

“...Can you rub my tummy too?”

“You know I will.”

You sniffle and reluctantly open your mouth to sip a spoonful of the soup once again.

“Atta girl.” Shota smooths a kiss on your forehead, rubbing circles against the back of your hand.

He reaches over to the nightstand to grab your medicine he picked up from the local pharmacy earlier, and hands a small cup of what he pours to you.

You grimace at its cherry-colored contents and tilt your head back to drink it in one go like a shot.

“Good job. Now come lay on me.” He didn’t need to ask you twice, but Shota’s hands are already on your waist to gently flip you over him as he takes your previous position on the bed, setting you down to rest your head on your usual spot on his chest.

He strokes your hair gently, arm snug against your back while he presses you to him. “How are you feeling?”

“A little bit better,” you mumble, absentmindedly tracing the outline of his abs under his shirt. It's always been soothing to you.

Shota’s chest rumbles as he lets out a husky laugh. “Are you just saying that so you can keep tracing my abs?”

“Maybe.” You giggle against him, which turns into a cough and he firmly pats your back. His hand slides under your pajamas to rub gentle circles on your tummy like he promised. You softly squeal at the ticklish feeling of his hard-earned callouses against your skin, and Shota tenderly kisses your cheek once, twice.

All your senses are numb, but you can still feel the overflowing love behind them.

“Go to sleep, sweet girl. I got you,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Okay.” You comply easily this time, nuzzling deeper into his chest. “Goodnight, Shota.”

“Goodnight, angel. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you mumble before drifting off to sleep in the safety of his warm arms.

Maybe being sick wasn’t all bad.

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