#even though he still cared about him a lot

[onceinablueberrymoon]

made for this | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

scenario: pregnant!reader has a doctor’s appointment and wants to help husband!salesman by recruiting some new players at the clinic. the salesman has a different idea in mind… setting: a couple months after the events of season 1; sequel to this but can be read as a stand-alone fic warnings: pregnant!reader; a bit of spice and a lot of fluff; both reader and salesman feel morally superior to others; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 931 notes: thank you all for the love on the first part! i hope i didn’t make the salesman too ooc, i try to keep things as accurate to the show as possible! but i think he is somewhat capable of having soft moments, although very rarely. i have at least one more idea for this series (if it can even be called that), so be on the lookout for that ٩>ᴗ<)و (also if anyone has any ideas for this ship, send them my way!) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Hey, can I borrow some business cards? I have an appointment at the clinic today and thought I’d pass some out.”

At your call, your husband walked into the bedroom to find you standing in front of the mirror next to your shared bed, adjusting your outfit for the day. He crossed his arms.

“I don’t think so. Any public involvement with the Games could endanger you,” his gaze lingered on your swollen stomach. He sighed, “You can’t defend yourself in your condition, no matter how much you think you can.” 

You just rolled your eyes and shot him a piercing look. 

“My pregnancy doesn’t impact my job, though. I can take care of myself just fine.” You took a couple steps towards him. “Who’s the one who befriended Gi-hun again? You?” You looked around the room before you pointed at yourself. 

“Me, that’s who,” you grinned proudly, only for your husband to cover his face with his hands, his patience clearly running thin.

“Besides,” you shrugged, “it’s not like I’ll be playing ddakji and smacking people. No, my dear husband, that’s your thing.” You brought a finger up to your lips. 

“I have my own ways to play.” You flashed a wicked smile towards your husband, causing him to shiver. 

Right there and then, you knew that you had won the battle.

…or so you thought.

In the blink of an eye, your husband swept you off your feet and pinned you on the bed with only one arm. Your startled expression pleased him judging by the wild look on his face. His unoccupied hand came to gently press on your growing stomach, adding to the tense situation. He brought his lips up to graze your ear.

“See how vulnerable you are? Just think,” he lightly bit at your helix, “others won’t be so nice.”

It was your turn to shiver. 

When you didn’t respond, he continued nibbling at your ear with his hand still firmly planted on your belly.

Soon after, he lifted his head and asked, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He kissed you deeply, only breaking away to gasp for air. The most smug expression was plastered on his face. 

“Oh wait, I do.”

How cheeky of him. And cheesy, too! 

You huffed, “Wow, already starting with the dad jokes? And not even the good ones either.” His eyebrow quirked upwards before he bent down to press his nose against yours.

“Do you really want to play this game?” He whispered softly, causing you to shudder. “You know I always win.”

Turning your head to the right, you let out a small chuckle.

“Oh really?” You retorted, “Prove it.”

This sent him into a borderline frenzy as he started planting kisses down the side of your neck. You threw your arms around his neck, a smile on your face. Sometimes it was just too easy to manipulate him.

As he was about to leave a mark, a sharp movement stopped him in his tracks. He blinked, snapping out of his trance. You were both confused when there was another movement, although not as sharp as the first.

The two of you looked down at your rounded stomach, and your husband removed his hand. The baby’s kicks continued nearly every minute, while you both just watched, not moving a muscle. Then, your husband lifted himself up off of you, moving to sit on the bed beside you. You sat up and, taking one of his hands, gently laid it on your stomach. Your husband carefully wrapped an arm around you, now acting as if you were made of glass.

“They’re so active. Do you think,” he paused, then in a whisper, asked, “Do you think I hurt them?” 

“No… I think they’re just making themselves known,” you kissed him on the cheek. 

Both of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, only to soon realize that you were now running late for your appointment.

“Is there any chance I can still get those business cards?” You pleaded. 

Your husband chuckled, “Absolutely not. In fact, I’ll accompany you.” 

“I thought we weren’t allowed to be seen together in public?” You furrowed your eyebrows. 

He let go of you and turned to open his briefcase at the foot of the bed. Pulling out some files, he nodded, “There’s quite a few prospective players residing at that hospital. You attend your appointment, I’ll recruit more players.” He flashed his signature smirk, putting the files back in his briefcase.

“Wow, I thought you wanted to come to my appointment with me!” You laughed, giving him a light shove.

Your husband gave you a knowing look, “I can’t do that. But I expect a copy of the sonogram.” He stood up, holding out a hand for you to take.

“What a gentleman.” You took his offer and stood up.

Placing a hand on your husband’s chest, you teased, “Try to take it easy at the hospital, hm? Most of the prospects there are already on the verge of cracking. We don’t want to break them before the Games – it wouldn’t make for a good show.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, your husband pouted, “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Giving them a tiny sliver of hope, only to eventually rip it away…” You looked him straight in the eyes. “The suspense is so thrilling, don’t you think?”

“And here I was starting to think you weren’t cut out for the job,” he chuckled. He checked his watch, noting the time.

“We should get going – it’s rude to be late.” 

a/n: by the way, i don’t think i have it in me to write full-on smut, the most i can probably do is a bit of lime lol

tags: @preppyfella

[ylangelegy]

so disconnected 📵 jeonghan x reader.

if jeonghan's 'boyfriend material' posts are on point, well— you can thank his girlfriend.

★ jeonghan x social media manager!reader. ★ word count: 2.6k ★ genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff!!!, txt's soobin is mentioned, down bad!jeonghan, jealous!jeonghan. some smau elements. not proofread; we go out swinging, baby. ★ footnotes: "kae if i wake up to a single shred of jeonghan on ur page..." ¡sorpresa, @diamonddaze01! no further notes, your honor.

🎧 now playing: disconnected by 5 seconds of summer — i admit i'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules, but i've found my sweet escape when i'm alone with you.

Click.

Jeonghan hasn’t even looked up and yet he already knows what he’ll find when he does. Sure enough, when he shifts his weight onto his other foot and glances away from the TikTok he’d been watching— there you are. 

He wishes he could see your beautiful face. Alas, it’s obstructed by the sight that he’s grown used to associating with you. 

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him. 

“Yah.” His high-pitched bid to feign annoyance is a futile one. Everybody knows that Jeonghan could never be truly irked by you, no matter how masterfully you pushed his buttons sometimes. 

After clicking away for a couple more minutes, you finally lower your phone. 

There you are. 

Jeonghan swears he’s not a sap, not what those people call ‘simps’. But something about your smile always makes him a little weak in the knees, makes him want to be The Best Boyfriend In The World, bar none. 

He gestures for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, Jeonghan is already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in.

“Don’t do that,” you snipe as he brings you into his chest. “We’re in public!”

Jeonghan can’t hide the way his eyes roll. “I don’t care. This isn’t public. It’s the parking lot of your apartment building,” he says dryly. 

“Still public.” 

“Still don’t care.” 

You go to shove at Jeonghan’s chest. He responds by tightening his hold on you, a sound of protest rising from the back of his throat. 

“C’mon, just a minute.” He buries his face in the top of your head, breathing in the soothing scent of your shampoo. It makes something in his chest flutter. “I’ll let you go, just— give me a minute, sweetheart.” 

He can sense that your acquiescence is begrudging, but he takes it nonetheless. A win is a win, he thinks smugly as he takes the opportunity to hug you a little tighter. 

It’s been three months since you finally agreed to try dating Jeonghan, though you had insisted that it be kept on the down low. Something about decorum, discretion. Workplace violations? Jeonghan doesn’t really remember; he had been a little too excited at the prospect of finally being yours that he wouldn’t have minded any condition in the world. 

The past weeks have unironically been some of the best in Jeonghan’s life, though there were probably some things he could do without. 

“It’s my day off, you know,” he mumbles into your hair, “which means it should also be your day off.” 

You giggle, and the force of it has your shoulders slightly shaking against Jeonghan’s chest. 

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.  

He liked making you laugh. He liked being the reason behind your smiles. And, God, did he like you. 

“Let me think about it.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice, followed by a little ‘hmmm’ of faux thoughtfulness. 

He’s about to bite back at you when he feels your hand at his hip, somewhat leaning into his embrace, and he instead channels his energy into holding back a dreamy sigh. You go on, “No, I don’t think so. Go pose by the wall for another picture.” 

Jeonghan leans back a bit, just enough so that you can see his furrowed eyebrows as he whines, “But I’m Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

The title is a new one. Five days recent, in fact, and Jeonghan is hoping it will cut him some slack. 

“Okay, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan,” you say without missing a beat. “Go pose by the wall.” 

Jeonghan peels himself away from you with a grumble. He knows he’s acting a bit like an overgrown child— stomping as he walks, pouting when he leans— but he trusts that you’ll find it endearing. 

You pull out your phone’s camera app. Jeonghan is ready to frown the entire way through, maybe sass you that you only told him to pose by the wall but you didn’t say how he should look. 

But then, instead of “One, two, three…”, you call out something else entirely. 

“I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

He can’t help it. 

He laughs, and you click away.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

jeonghaniyoo_n hang up the telephone and just be here with me Liked by pledis_boos, vernonline, and 1,932,049 others View all 2,109 comments

One pro of dating your social media manager, Jeonghan would argue, is all the ‘vacations’ that the two of you can go on. You’re there for every tour stop, every concert, and Jeonghan absolutely revels in the hour or two he can steal away with you. 

If only he could get you to stop working. 

He knows that you’re technically on the clock more often than not. Managing an idol’s social media presence was no small feat, and your entire shtick was about making Jeonghan look as desirable as possible on SNS. You’ve been doing a terrific job so far, if his steady rise in followers was anything to go by. 

Still. Jeonghan has been attempting to give you the cold shoulder for the past 15 minutes. Attempting, because you don’t even seem to notice that he’s gone quiet— too busy on your phone to pay him any heed. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. He doesn’t even have to glance at your screen; he knows you’re probably on Lightroom, fine tuning the press photos of him from earlier this morning. 

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.” 

“Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake. 

“I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.” 

You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note. 

“Well, I was ignoring you before that.” 

“Were you?” 

“Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.” 

The beleaguered sigh you let out is not a new thing. Jeonghan has been on the receiving end of your exasperation for as long as he’s known you. 

At least there’s a hint of guilt on your expression as you tuck away your phone. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Everybody’s posting follower ranking listicles since it’s the end of the year. I wanted to see where we were placing.” 

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend. 

He’s down so bad for you that it’s not even funny anymore. 

“And?” he prods, his earlier chagrin smoothed out into something that sounds a lot more like resigned affection. “How’s it looking?” 

The frustration that takes over your expression makes Jeonghan want to coo. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he manages to hold himself back. 

“We still haven’t beat out Choi Soobin.” You frown like the other idol has personally wronged you by having a higher follower count. “His boyfriend material photos are too damn good.” 

“His what?”

You whip out your phone. Jeonghan watches with growing incredulity as you pull up Instagram, and he’s less than pleased that user page.soobin is already one of your more recently searched accounts. 

When you shove your phone underneath Jeonghan’s nose, he’s treated to the sight of Soobin’s feed. “Boyfriend material photos,” you double down, like having a visual might somehow explain things away. 

Jeonghan snatches your phone from you. “I heard you the first time,” he says irritably. “But what does it mean?” 

“It means that he looks like somebody’s boyfriend,” you shoot back. 

Oh, Jeonghan does not like that. 

He doesn’t care if it’s just a term for a type of photo. The thought of you perceiving anyone else as ‘boyfriend material’ makes a muscle in his jaw tick. 

“Do you think,” he says coolly, keeping his eyes trained on your screen, “he looks like ‘boyfriend material’?” 

“I mean, yeah—” 

You’ve barely gotten to the end of your sentence before Jeonghan is handing you back your phone. “Where are you going?” you call out as he marches a couple of paces away. 

He looks equal part determined and peeved when he turns to face you. You have your eyebrows arched upward, but he’s more focused on making sure his good side is angled towards you. 

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ ZILD - Lia

jeonghaniyoo_n we put the world away Liked by xuminghao_o, min9yu_k, and 1,000,289 others View all 2,109 comments

The day you tell Jeonghan about your plans of resigning, his first thought is Well, that was good while it lasted.

His attempt at being unaffected is a shaky one. You can tell by the way he holds his paper cup just a little too tightly, the way he keeps smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his coat. His poorly concealed distress makes your expression soften, which is somehow worse.

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

And he most especially didn’t want to be broken up with in some random café in Tokyo. He has half a mind to ask why you couldn’t have waited until the two of you were back home. 

Jeonghan swallows hard, like it might somehow help him swallow the panic simmering in the pit of his stomach. 

“Good for you,” he finally manages to respond. “You’re overworked here, anyway.” 

“That’s not the reason why I’m leaving.” 

Jeonghan hates how calm you look. The two of you had watched— and judged— one too many dramas, and so he’d imagined a breakup with you would be something like that. A rain-soaked street, choice words that neither of you could take back. 

Not you stirring sugar into your coffee like this is not a relationship-defining conversation. 

When Jeonghan doesn’t respond, you continue. Your voice goes a touch softer, and he’s struck with the fear that you’re trying to let him down gently. 

“I’m resigning because of you, Hannie.” That nickname— the one that once felt like a Daesang in its own right, when you first bestowed it on him— now makes Jeonghan’s heart feel like lead. 

“Because of me,” he repeats. 

His mouth is dry. His hands are clammy. He’s thirty seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay, the rest of the café’s patrons be damned. 

Your next words are spoken like an unshakable truth. “Because I love you.” 

You— 

The look on Jeonghan’s face must be priceless; you start to laugh, and the sound of it eases some of Jeonghan’s fraying nerves. 

“I love you, and I want to be with you. Properly.” Your lips purse for a moment. “Well, as properly as being with an idol will allow, anyway. At least I won’t have to worry about getting called in by HR if I’m working someplace else.” 

Workplace violations. Right. That had been a thing. 

All the emotions hit Jeonghan like a truck. Relief (that you’re not breaking up with him), then affection (that you’re willing to do this for him), then guilt (that you’re willing to do this for him). 

He reaches across the table to place his hand on top of yours. Your eyes instinctively glance around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone is looking your way. Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do. 

“I love you, too. More than you know,” he says. “But I don’t want you to throw away your career for me. Who’s to say you won’t resent me down the line because of it? I— I couldn’t live with myself, sweetheart.” 

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.” 

“I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.” 

“Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.” 

He must not look convinced, because you take things a step further. Instead of just clasping his hand in yours, you move to intertwine your fingers. There’s some comfort in the familiar feeling of your fingers in between the spaces of his. 

“Nothing is being thrown away,” you repeat, your tone brooking no argument. “I will not hate you tomorrow because of this.” 

Here’s the thing: Jeonghan trusts you implicitly, and not only with his SNS passwords. He trusts your no-nonsense attitude, your unshakeable feelings, your typically sound judgement. 

He wants to trust you now. He wants to believe so, so badly that there is something on the other side for the two of you, and that something would be exactly what the two of you deserve. 

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he considers your words. When he speaks, his voice is a lot smaller than he intends. 

“What about the day after tomorrow?” 

The initial confusion that flits over your expression is replaced by that grin he adores. 

“I’ll still love you the day after tomorrow,” you promise. 

He presses, “And the week after that?” 

“The week after that, too.” 

“What about the month after?” 

“I’ll do you one better— the year after, too.” 

You’re laughing, laughing in the way that he’s always tried to make you laugh, and it’s all Jeonghan needs to trust that things are going to be okay.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Pritam, Mohit Chauhan, Irshad Kamil - Tum Se Hi

jeonghaniyoo_n my getaway, my favorite place Liked by ho5hi_kwon, everyone_woo, and 2,000,001 others View all 2,109 comments

Click. Click. Click. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What,” Jeonghan huffs, “A guy can’t take photos of his girlfriend?”

You throw a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction, though your terrible aim has it soaring right over his head. 

Ever since you left his company, Jeonghan has enjoyed an array of benefits that come with dating someone who is not your co-worker. The biggest of which happened to be all the time he’s now free to spend with you, most of which he’s happy to kill in his apartment. 

He’s still a little bit petulant about your new job, though, and he likes to voice it out as often as he can. 

“I bet Soobin has tons of photos of you,” he grumbles.

You pretend not to hear him. Jeonghan tries again. 

From the foot of the bed, Jeonghan begins to crawl over your legs. Your annoyed tsk goes ignored as he takes your laptop and sets it aside, dragging you away from your social media planning for page.soobin.

“He better not fall in love with you,” Jeonghan warns.

You let out a low hiss before swatting at your boyfriend, trying to get him off of you. He doesn’t budge, instead caging you in with his arms on either side of you. 

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets. 

He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth. 

“I’ll give you your laptop back,” he murmurs, satisfied to have had an ounce of you.

But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours. 

He’d been happy with an ounce, yes, but who is he to complain when you give him the whole damn lot? 

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ 5 Seconds of Summer - Disconnected

jeonghaniyoo_n Do not disturb. 📵 - YJH Liked by sound_of_coups, joshua_acoustic, and 3,392,034 others View all 30,109 comments

diamonddaze01 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ylangelegy just fell to my knees 💔 happy for you, king yourusername :-)

[thewertsearch]

Even though your dad isn't overbearing with all the detective nonsense anymore, he decided to leave this one here for old time's sake. It brings back memories of his very short-lived stint as a private eye.

Dad Crocker really is just Dad Egbert all over again - not just in looks, but in personality as well. My best guess is still adoption - that it is the same Dad, but he was adopted by Poppop instead of Nanna this time.

Granted, it's a little strange that the Condesce would allow this to happen. Dad's no ally of English, so why hasn't she reassigned Jane to someone more loyal to him?

You were afraid this might be the case. Your dad has blocked the front door with the REFRIGERATOR. Looks like he's taking the grounding seriously this time.

...maybe she doesn't care if Dad's loyal to English, as long as he can still be trusted to keep Jane locked down until Entry.

Dad's certainly got the Mangrit to handle that task, and he's clearly protective enough to do it on his own initiative, without needing to be coaxed.

Here’s Johnny!

I probably should have called this when the Act's opening only showed his arm - but damn, you really don't expect to see a stuffed corpse in Jane's house, do you? This tradition feels a lot more eerie and out-of-place in Suburbia, USA than it did in Grandpa Harley's House of Mysteries.

It practically went without saying your dad keeps poppop stuffed and mounted in front of the fireplace, as is the family tradition. [...] This was stipulated firmly in the will, at the end of a long list of joke stipulations. (Dad knew this was a real stipulation though.)

lmaooooooo

Y'know, the more I think about it, the more I appreciate the fact that John got to raise Dad this time around. You can really see how the two are kindred spirits - and if the original Dad had lived to see John grow up, this is a sad little glimpse into how close they would have stayed.

[luvismenu]

> motive — pt.5 ,, index ! nsfw

. . brother's bestfriend!jungkook au . .

wc: 4.6k+

warnings: banter, teasing, lots of cursing ofc, kissing, some oral (fem recieving), fingering, clit play, he's kinda aggresive, jungkook being a dick in the end, cliffhanger-ish?

jeon jungkook is so fucking stubborn.

once he sets his mind on something, there’s no going back. if he thinks something might hurt someone, he won’t ever risk it. he doesn’t change his mind, doesn’t budge, doesn’t care how annoying it is. he’ll stick to his decision no matter what.

it’s a stupid habit, but he’s always been like this. and honestly, you’re starting to think he always will be.

you’ve known that ever since the bike incident from when you were kids. it was your brother’s bicycle. you really liked it, and you wanted to ride it secretly because you knew jimin wouldn't let you. you begged jungkook to let you, but he refused. your brother had told him, very seriously, that it would break his heart if you fell and got hurt. and, of course, jungkook listened. he took your brother’s words like gospel and never let you touch the bike.

it didn’t matter that you cried about it. even though he looked a little guilty seeing you bawling your eyes out, he still wouldn’t budge. your brother’s feelings came first, even if you were sitting there heartbroken.

and that was when you were four, and they were nine

jungkook never told you why he didn't let you touch your brother's bike either. you only know about this because jimin told you when you grew up. which really pissed you off.

maybe it’s a silly thing to still think about, but it’s just so annoying that he hasn’t changed. he’s always been like this— choosing what’s “right” even if it makes you mad.

sure, he’s not your best friend, but that doesn’t mean you both didn’t grow up together. you were always there, tagging along, watching him and jimin get into all kinds of trouble. and your brother always found ways to keep you quiet, too.

“jungkook, let's carry her on the way home.”

“jungkook, give her your candy so she won’t tell mom and dad.”

and it worked.

every time.

it was fun, you won’t lie. making them beg you not to rat them out, holding it over their heads. oh, it was so fucking fun.

it’s still almost the same, you know all your brother’s secrets, and by extension, jungkook’s. growing up with them, you picked up more than they ever wanted you to. and, well, why wouldn’t you use that information to your advantage? sometimes for fun, sometimes to get what you want.

and what did mufasa say? it’s the mother fucking circle of life.

“saw that you were with taehyung a few days ago,” jimin says casually as he pulls on his jacket.

you’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling through your phone. you’ve been debating whether or not to text jungkook, but you don’t want to look desperate. still, your fingers keep itching to type something.

your brothers words make you pause, but you don’t look up. instead, you respond simply, “yeah.”

“why?” he asks, his voice closer now. you glance up to find him standing right behind you, staring down.

you shrug, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. “just because.”

and then, without warning, he snatches the phone from your hands, holding it high above his head. you gasp, jumping up immediately.

“oh, you son of a—”

“careful,” he interrupts with a smug grin, “we share the same mother.”

you glare, crossing your arms. “give me my phone back.”

“answer me properly,” he counters. “do you like taehyung?”

your face scrunches in immediate disgust. “no! he just wanted to meet up and talk. you know, because he helped me with my projects back in middle school, and we were kinda like friends.” you emphasize the words as you uncross your arms, as if reminding him.

jimin sighs and finally lowers your phone, which you snatch back with lightning speed.

“okay,” he relents, “just don’t get too close to him.”

“why?” you deadpan, raising a brow. “because he’s a model too, and you’ve got some secret rivalry with him?”

“because he hurt my best friend,” jimin snaps, his tone sharp, “and i don’t want to think about it.”

you shut your mouth, his words leaving no room for argument. the silence between you grows thick for a moment.

then, finally, you speak up. “whatever. i’m going to watch a movie. don’t disturb me.”

“i won’t, cuz i’m going out,” jimin says, grabbing his car keys from the table.

“with?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“your mo— wait, shit, we have the same mom,” he mutters, catching himself, and you scrunch your nose in disgust but can’t help the small smile that slips out.

“your crazy model friends?” you fold your arms again,tilting your head.

“yes, my crazy, stupid, but rich model friends,” he grins smugly, “just like me.”

you roll your eyes and turn around, flopping back onto the couch dramatically.

“oh, and jungkook’s coming over,” he says as he heads for the door.

your ears perk up immediately, and you shoot up, blurting, “why?”

“it’s the weekend. he’s gonna sleep over,” jimin replies casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and to be fair, it kind of is— jungkook crashing at your place is pretty routine. but the thing is, he’s always here for jimin, not you. all you and jungkook do is bicker whenever he’s around.

“but you’re going out,” you frown, watching him open the door.

“bro, this is my house, i’m coming back of course. don’t worry,” he says, rolling his eyes like you’re being ridiculous.

“but i don’t—”

“shush,” he cuts you off, stepping outside. “i am gonna be late because of you. take care of the house and don’t fight with jungkook.”

before you can argue back, he’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

you stare at the door for a moment, then slump back onto the couch, muttering to yourself.

“yeah, like that’s fucking possible.”

it doesn’t take long for jungkook to show up. the front door swings open casually, and he walks in like he owns the place, not even sparing you a glance. he heads straight for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like he just ran a marathon.

must’ve worked out.

you hear his footsteps as he walks into the living room, where you’re sprawled out on the couch, pretending to ignore him. well, pretending to mind your own business, at least.

your eyes flick to him briefly, and yep, there he is— in those stupidly attractive gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt that clings a little too well to his body. if you look at him for too long, you’re pretty sure you’ll do something you’ll regret.

nope. not worth it. you’re supposed to be mad at him.

what is annoying, though, is how quiet he has been ever since that conversation with him a few days ago. jungkook isn’t supposed to be quiet around you. if anyone gets to ignore anyone here, it’s you.

selfish? maybe. but it’s just you and him.

it is what it is.

��get up,” he says, standing right beside the couch where your legs are sprawled out. “i need to sit.”

you glance at him briefly and then smile. “there’s plenty of space,” you say, your voice sickly sweet. “outside. in the garbage bin.” your smile drops as you finish the sentence, and his frown deepens, his brows pulling together in a way that— unfortunately, makes him look even better.

even hotter.

“i wanna watch the movie too,” he says, ignoring your jab.

“too fucking bad,” you retort, keeping your eyes on the tv.

the notebook plays on the screen, and for a second, you think of how much you and jimin love this movie and how you all used to watch this movie when you were younger (but old enough to watch it). jungkook always sat through it with the two of you, even though you know it’s not his thing.

“i just came back from the gym,” he starts, his voice edged with frustration. “i could use some rest.”

“go to the other room, then. use the bed to res— hey!”

you’re cut off mid-sentence as he grabs your legs, effortlessly lifting them up. before you can protest, he flips them off the couch, forcing you to sit up as he plops himself down beside you.

he leans back, completely unfazed, and looks at the screen. “thanks,” he says smugly.

“fuck face,” you mutter under your breath, glaring at him.

your hands itch to smack the smirk off his face, but you just huff and turn back to the movie, crossing your arms in annoyance.

you grab your phone, your fingers moving quickly as you text yumi because you genuinely have no idea what to do or say right now.

you: how can this mfker sit here and act like nothing happened!?

yumi <3: he's at yours!?!?

you: yeah, sleepover

yumi <3: where's ur bro

you: out

yumi <3: so u're alone tg 😈

you: help me bae. he's acting like i didn't literally say that i fucking want him?? what do i do

yumi <3: what u always do babe ,, provoke him.

you glance over at jungkook, still seated on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. his jaw is clenched slightly, and your gaze trails down his arm, taking in his tattoos, the way his biceps flex subtly as he rests his hand on his thigh. and that’s when an idea hits you.

without a word, you get up and walk to your room. you don’t notice it, but his eyes flick to you as you leave. his gaze lingers for a second, curious, but he quickly forces himself to look back at the screen.

in your room, you swap your pants for a pair of shorts— really short shorts. short enough to reveal your thigh tattoo.

you glance at yourself in the mirror and adjust them slightly, smirking to yourself.

with newfound confidence, you stride back into the living room. jungkook is still on the couch, his attention glued to the movie. he doesn’t even glance your way when you enter— typical.

you catch sight of the clutter on the glass table in front of him: bowls and empty cups.

perfect.

you move around the couch approach the table from the other side so he can see the tattoo and start tidying up, picking up the bowls one by one, moving slowly, purposefully. you stretch your leg just slightly as you reach for the furthest one, your thigh tattoo now fully visible.

jungkook notices. and oh, you can tell by the quick flick of his eyes, the way his jaw tightens for just a second. but he doesn’t say a word, keeping his gaze locked on the screen like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

you hold back a frustrated sigh, heading to the kitchen to put the bowls away. when you return, he’s still pretending not to notice you, still sitting there as if nothing’s changed.

so fucking stubborn. for what, though?

you stop and take a deep breath, deciding to try again. this time, you walk directly in front of the tv, deliberately blocking his view as you pretend to move things around the room.

he frowns almost immediately. “move out of the fucking way,” he says, voice sharp and annoyed.

“can’t,” you say, keeping your tone light and casual. “i’m busy doing something.”

you cross the room again, back and forth, shifting random items like it’s the most important task right now.

“do it later,” he snaps, the irritation growing in his voice. “i’m watching this,, aren’t i?”

you scoff, turning on your heel to face him. “so fucking what? you’ve seen this movie like, a hundred times!”

he stares up at you, still frowning. “what the fuck do you want?” his tone is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach flip.

you cross your arms, glaring at him. “you know what i want.”

he raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenching as he leans back into the couch. “do i?”

“yes,” you snap as you glare down at him. “don't act stupid, jungkook. you know exactly what the fuck i want.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand through his dark hair. “i don't know what the fuck you're talking about so just fucking say it.”

you scoff, your brows furrowing deeper. “i did say it. you’re the one pretending like it didn’t happen, like i didn’t tell you—”

“because you don’t mean it,” he cuts you off, his voice low but steady.

you take a step back, stunned for a moment. “what?”

he leans forward now, resting his palms on his knees, his gaze boring into yours. “you’re just doing this to fuck with me, to get a reaction. and congrats, you fucking got one. are you happy now?”

your throat tightens, but you refuse to let him see how much his words sting. “you think i didn’t mean it?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind.

“if i didn’t mean it,” you say, your voice softer now, “then why would i keep doing this? why the fuck would i care?”

“because you like attention, don't you?” he shoots back, his words sharper than you expected. “taehyung, me, whoever gives it to you.”

your jaw drops, anger and disbelief flooding you. “you’re such a fuckin—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off again, standing up now, towering over you. “don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. you’re the one who started this.”

you stare up at him, your chest rising and falling as frustration bubbles over. but you recover quickly, masking the storm inside you with a smirk. tilting your head slightly, you ask, “started what exactly?” your tone is light, almost mocking, daring him to say it out loud.

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his gaze locked on yours. he doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t answer immediately either, like he’s weighing his next move. you can see it— the slight flare of his nostrils, the clench of his fists at his sides.

“don’t play with me, ___.” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

your smirk widens, pushing him further. “am i really? becuz all i see is you getting worked up over nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffs, stepping closer, closing the already minimal distance between you. “you’ve been pushing me, fucking testing me? what the fuck is that about?”

you hold your ground, refusing to back away. “and? what are you gonna do about it, jungkook? keep avoiding it like you always do?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “avoiding it? you’re fucking crazy. you think this is easy for me?”

“what’s not easy?” you press more, losing patience, your voice softening slightly. “tell me, jeon jungkook. what��s so hard for you?”

his eyes darken, his emotions clear on his face. “stop, ___.” he pauses. “stop pushing me before i—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to regain control.

you feel your breath catch at his words, your heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. instead, you tilt your chin up, whispering, “no.. you need to stop fighting it, jungkook.” you lean in closer, your eyes never leaving his. “it's just you and me right now.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the tension between you is palpable, electric, like something is about to snap. and this time, you’re not sure if you want to continue pushing him.

“shut the fuck up,” jungkook leans down, his breathe getting heavier

you smirk a little, whispering back, “fucking make me.”

and then suddenly he’s holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm, his lips sear against yours kissing you with passion that you’ve always wanted to feel.

jungkook's hand tightens around your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desperate hunger. you moan into his mouth as he pulls you against his body, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

breaking away for a ragged gasp, jungkook lifts you effortlessly into his arms, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. he puts you down gently on the couch where he'd been sitting moments before. though there's nothing gentle about the way his hands roam over your curves, hiking your shirt up a little.

jungkook pulls back just enough to glare down at you, his breaths ragged, his jaw clenched. his dark eyes bore into yours.

"i hate you," he grits out. his hand grips your thigh, sliding up to press firmly against your skin, sending shivers through your body.

your lips curl into a smirk, your breath hitching as his grip tightens. “do you?” you whisper, your voice teasing, daring him to keep going.

his fingers dig into your thigh, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “yeah, cuz you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so fucking much,” he mutters, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, kissing and biting on your sensitive skin.

a soft moan escapes you, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you arch into him. “yeah?” you breathe out, your smirk deepening. “i like knowing i get to you.”

his eyes snap to yours, his jaw tightening as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, revealing him your bare pussy. “so fucking bratty,” he mutters.

your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling as his fingers trace over the tattoo etched into your thigh, the one he gave you, the one that still turns him on whenever he thinks about how you teased him during the session.

you and your fucking mouth. he thinks.

his lips hover over your skin, his gaze fixed on the inked design before he lowers his head. his soft lips press against your hip, right where the tattoo starts.

his voice is quieter now, softer as he looks up at you. “does it still hurt?”

“so much,” you whisper, your voice shaky, but it’s clear your meaning has nothing to do with pain.

a smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes dark with intent as he begins kissing along the tattoo, lower and lower. each press of his lips sends a shiver through your body.

his hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as his mouth continues its path, exploring every inch of your skin, lingering on the spots that make you squirm, but not touching the place you desparately need him to.

“you’re so quiet now, ___,” he murmurs against your thigh, his lips brushing over your skin. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a sound. “fuck off,” you breathe out, your words make his smirk grow wider.

his hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his head moves fully between them. his eyes lock onto your bare pussy, and he curses under his breath.

he leans in, his tongue sliding in a long, slow stride over your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. a soft, needy moan escapes your lips, your body already trembling like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

because, well, you have.

his tongue moves through your folds with such a delicious rhythm, licking every inch of you. your breathing grows heavier with each stroke, his mouth exploring you like he’s memorizing every reaction.

when his tongue finds your clit, he flicks it expertly, a few quick strokes before sucking on it. the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your mind spiraling into a haze.

“fuck,” you whisper, barely able to form words as his mouth works wonders on you.

he doesn’t stop. his tongue continues to explore you, his lips wrapping around your clit again while his hand comes up to join the mix. two fingers slide over your slick folds before finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his tongue. when his mouth moves lower, licking at your entrance, your thighs quiver, and a sharp moan slips past your lips.

“this what you wanted?” he rasps, his voice rough as he glances up at you, his fingers still circling your clit. your back arches instinctively, your body responding to his touch, and you squirm under him, unable to keep still.

when you don’t answer fast enough, his hand lifts slightly before coming down with a sharp slap to your pussy. the sting makes you whimper, your eyes shooting open as he smirks.

“what’s wrong?” he taunts, his fingers rubbing over your folds soothingly. “for someone who bitches about everything, you're so fucking quiet now.”

he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing you, his movements deliberate as your body tenses.

“wanna cum on my fingers?” he asks, his tone low, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“y-yes,” you stammer, your voice shaky but desperate. “fuck yes, wanna cum on your fingers,” you moan, your body arching when you feel his fingers slide in.

“shit, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough as his fingers curl inside you, hitting the perfect spot. “dripping so good for me,”

your moan spills out involuntarily, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. your hand reaches out instinctively, gripping his that’s still holding your thigh, your touch shaky but needy.

his fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit in perfect rhythm. the wet sounds of your pussy, with your breathless moans, echo in the room mixed with the movie still playing in the background; filling his head with even more desire. his eyes flicker down to the visible bulge in his sweatpants, hard and straining against the fabric as he takes in the sight of you.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, his movements never faltering. watching you like this; squirming, moaning, completely falling apart— does something to him he can’t ignore. he never thought it would actually come to this.

but he can’t deny it. he’s thought about it. more times than he’d ever admit. even when he tried to push those thoughts away, when he tried to convince himself it was wrong to see you like this, he could never stop. every time you provoked him, every time you pushed his buttons, it only made him think about it more.

and now? now he’s fucking gone. he loves this. he loves having you squirm beneath him.

“f-fuck, j-jungkook, so good!” you cry out, your voice trembling as your back arches off the couch. your brows pinch together, your lips parted, your entire body trembling under his touch. your eyes flutter shut, so close to rolling back, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation he’s giving you.

“yeah?” he breathes, his tone low and wrecked. “you look so fucking pretty like this, so fucking beautiful..” his pace quickens, his fingers pumping deeper, harder, pushing you closer and closer.

“that’s it, just like that,” he coaxes, as his fingers continue working inside you. his thumb presses firmly against your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure, driving you even closer to your release.

your breathing turns ragged, your body trembling beneath his touch as the heat coils tighter in your core. “j-jungkook, i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on your face, watching every expression, every twitch. “fucking cum for me,”

your body tenses, back arching. your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through every nerve. you grip his wrist tightly, probably marking him, your thighs trembling as you ride out the high.

he slows his movements, letting you catch your breath, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he watches you, his eyes dark and full of something you can’t quite place. he gently slips his fingers out, glistening with your release, and you watch, dazed, with your half-open eyes, as he brings them to his lips.

“fuck,” he mutters, licking his fingers clean, his tongue swirling around them as if savoring every taste of you. his gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste fucking divine.”

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft, not entirely sure what to say.

but.. before you can say anything, your phone starts ringing. both of your heads snap to the table where it’s vibrating.

the contact name reads “hater,” which you both know means jimin.

your eyes flick to jungkook. his expression shifts, and his hands, which were so close to touching you again, retreat. he steps back, leaving you frowning and still catching your breath.

“shit…” he mutters, standing up quickly, like he's guilty. you push yourself up too, sitting on the couch, not caring about the mess or the fact that you're still half-naked.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

he sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “just fucking pick it up.”

you scoff but grab your phone anyway, answering it and immediately putting it on speaker.

“what the fuck do you want?” you hiss.

“woah, who hurt you dumbass?” jimin’s voice is light, teasing.

you roll your eyes as jungkook silently fixes his clothes, avoiding your gaze.

“what is it?” you ask, your tone sharper than you intended.

“tell jungkook i’ll be late,” jimin says casually. “i texted him, but he wasn’t answering.”

jungkook looks around, realizing he left his phone on the kitchen counter earlier.

“is that all, brother?” you say, your voice dripping with fake sweetness, emphasizing the last word

“yeah, sister,” jimin replies mockingly, playing along. “go to sleep, it’s late, and don’t worry about jungkook.”

“care about your stupid model friends instead,” you mutter and hang up before he can say more.

jungkook exhales heavily, picking up your shorts from the floor. he places them gently on your lap, covering you, though he avoids looking at you entirely.

“what now? you’re just going to do nothing?” you demand, your voice rising with frustration.

“shut up, ___,” he says, his tone low. “we went too far. we need to stop. it’s better that we—”

“don’t tell me to shut it!” you snap, your voice breaking slightly. “you liked it just as much as i did! and—” you point at his pants, your eyes narrowing. “you’re still fucking hard, so don’t act like it didn’t mean anything.”

he groans, pressing his palm to his face. “just fucking get dressed. go to sleep.” he sighs. “we’re done here. don’t ever bring this up again.”

his words feel like a slap to the face.

“you’re just gonna walk away?” you askbut he doesn’t respond.

jungkook grabs his phone from the kitchen, heading for the front door.

“where are you even going?” you demand, anger and hurt swirling in your chest.

“out. need to cool off,” he says without looking back and walks out, the door shutting behind him.

you sit there, staring at the door.

this hurts. so. fucking. much.

what the fuck is his problem?

you want to scream, to fight, to get some kind of answer out of him, but he’s gone.

this was not okay. you can't forgive him. too fucking far.

you fucking hate jungkook.

note: wait ngl lmao i think i had a little too much fun w this ,, even though i was crying & trying to make the smut part even better 🥴

no series taglist !!

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

[thebunnednun]

Not On My Watch!

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Husband!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro hero!Wife!Reader

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Spice 18+, Wc: 20K+, No ageless blogs!

Synopsis: Katsuki can't sit still after seeing a video of you, his WIFE, getting her feet massaged by another man.

Tw: Sweet then spicy, lots of making out, pet names smut, free use, slight body worship, unprotected vaginal sex, oral, sexy slave mention, (both f! & m! recieving/giving), vaginal fingering, pussy play, multiple orgasms (both), ass play, groping, biting, creampie, dumbification, slight breeding mention, predictor and prey, anal, spanking, petnames - mdni (like my whole tumblr), cursing, dirty talk, care and love is given.

You've been warned.

When I say aged up I mean mid 20's early thirties.

Inspired by this short, Give her some love too plz, she's so funny<3

Read the note below afterwards. Lets get into it.

Morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the bedroom. You stirred slowly, the warmth of the covers cocooning you in a comforting embrace. As you blinked away the remnants of sleep, you became aware of the quiet hum of the world outside. Stretching lazily, your hand reached out to the other side of the bed—only to find it empty.

A small, knowing smile crept onto your lips.

The sheets were cool to the touch, a clear sign that Katsuki had left early. Yet, the faint scent of his caramel lingered in the air, and you were certain you’d been given a kiss goodbye before he slipped out for his shift. It was just like him to leave quietly, not wanting to disturb your much-needed rest after the rough night you’d had.

You and Katsuki have been married for just shy of a year, a whirlwind romance culminating in a partnership that felt as natural as breathing. Life as a pro hero was demanding, but the rough shift you had last night was enough to leave you craving a bit of solace and pampering. Your body ached in places you’d forgotten could ache, and your mind was still clouded with the remnants of exhaustion. 

Glancing around the room, your gaze drifting over the familiar details that made up your shared space. The nightstand on his side held a few scattered items. His phone charger, a half-empty bottle of water, and the book you'd convinced him to start reading—though he'd grumbled about it, he was already five chapters in. On your side, a small vase of fresh flowers brightened the room, a surprise Katsuki had brought home just days ago.

The bedroom was a reflection of your life together—simple yet filled with thoughtful touches. The neutral tones of the bedding were offset by pops of color from the pillows and the soft throw blanket draped over the chair in the corner. The faintest scent of lemons drifted from the open window, mingling with the crisp, clean air of the early day.

You sighed contentedly, sinking back into the pillows for a moment longer. The day stretched ahead, filled with the promise of relaxation and self-care. You fumbled around the sheets for a moment before finding and scrolling through your phone. The girls had recommended a new nail salon that recently opened downtown, promising it was the perfect place to unwind. It sounded like exactly what you needed. With a few quick taps, you shot a text to Katsuki.

Princess Peach: I’m heading to the new nail salon the girls told me about. It's my day off, so I'll meet you after your shift. I love you!

You leaned back against the pillows, waiting for his reply. It didn’t take long.

Teddy Bear: Fine with me. Send the amount when you’re close to done. 

Teddy Bear: Love you too.

A soft smile tugged at your lips. Even through the screen, his gruffness had a way of making you feel cared for. You could practically hear the way his voice softened just at the end, a rare tenderness he reserved only for you. You stretched languidly under the plush covers, the scent of fresh sheets wafting through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of a hearty breakfast. 

The soft cocoon of the bed beckoned you to stay, but the promise of a new day lured you from its embrace. Stretching luxuriously, you swung your legs over the edge, a smile curling on your lips as your eyes landed on the familiar pair below—your favorite bunny slippers, perfectly placed right where Katsuki knew your feet would touch the floor. The sight of them warmed your heart, a simple yet thoughtful gesture that never failed to remind you of his care.

Slipping your feet into the plush slippers, you padded across the room, the cool hardwood floor transitioning to the soft rug beneath your toes. You reached for your robe—a cherry red one that you loved—draped neatly over the armchair by the window. Wrapping it snugly around yourself, you headed towards the bathroom, the early morning light spilling in through the windows casting a gentle glow across the room.

The bathroom mirrored the tranquil elegance of the bedroom, with its sleek marble countertops and soft, ambient lighting. You grabbed your toothbrush, applying a dab of minty toothpaste before brushing your teeth. The refreshing burst of mint awakened your senses, each stroke a familiar routine preparing you for the day ahead.

Finished, you made your way down the hallway, the sound of your slippers muffled against the polished wood floors. The house was a sanctuary of calm and order, and as you moved through it, the faint scent of caramel and lemons drifted through the air, a delightful blend that made you breathe deeply, savoring the homey aroma.

Descending the luxury staircase, each step a smooth glide, you were greeted by the sight of your home sparkling clean, every surface gleaming under the morning sun. It was as if the house itself had been rejuvenated overnight. You reached the bottom of the stairs and turned left, stepping into the large living room. The space was a testament to your combined tastes, a harmonious blend of comfort and style.

Every detail had been meticulously curated. The soft, oversized couches adorned with plush throw pillows in your favorite shades; the coffee table, a sleek bookshelf holding a few well-loved novels and a vase of fresh flowers; the walls lined with art pieces and pictures that shared stories of your adventures together. The curtains and blinds had been drawn open, allowing the sunlight to pour in through every window, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. The light danced across the floor, creating shifting patterns that added an almost ethereal beauty to the scene.

You took a moment to bask in the tranquility, the serene atmosphere filling you with a sense of gratitude. It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the love and care that filled your home, that you felt truly at peace.

Leaving the living room, you made your way to the heart of the house: Suki’s kitchen. This space, unlike the others, was a reflection of Katsuki’s meticulous tastes. Every element, from the colors to the layout, bore his signature style and passion for precision.

The kitchen was a modern marvel of design and functionality. The counters were crafted from sleek black and white marble, their polished surfaces gleaming under the soft glow of the high ceiling lights you had insisted upon—strategically placed to prevent anyone from bumping their head. The deep oak wood cabinets, a rich contrast against the lighter counters, lined the walls, offering ample storage space while adding a touch of rustic warmth.

Appliances gleamed in their stainless steel glory, each one carefully chosen for its efficiency and aesthetic appeal. There were double ovens built seamlessly into the wall, perfect for Katsuki’s ambitious culinary endeavors. Two large sinks sat on opposite ends of the room, each with a state-of-the-art faucet, allowing for the kind of multitasking that your husband thrived on. Off to the side, a pre-kitchen area was tucked away, an extension for more intricate prep work or storing additional cookware.

The pantry was a thing of beauty, fully stocked and alphabetized, a testament to Katsuki’s need for order. Every item had its place, and the fridge—oh, the fridge—was a sleek, modern design that allowed you to see inside without opening it, displaying its contents like a prized collection. It was stocked to perfection, everything arranged just so, with little notes stuck here and there, a system you both found oddly satisfying.

As you moved through the kitchen, you couldn’t help but remember the construction phase. The flurry of contractors and delivery teams bustling about, bringing in appliances and asking a stream of questions. Each time, you’d simply pointed to your scowling husband, letting them know it was his call. His initial gruffness was often met with hesitation, but you knew better. He might have stomped around, inspecting every detail with a critical eye, grumbling under his breath, but you stayed by his side. Your presence eased his social anxiety, allowing him to communicate on creating the space he had envisioned.

He was your gremlin, your wonderfully stubborn, exacting gremlin, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Every detail of this kitchen was a testament to his love for perfection, and standing here now, in the heart of your home, you felt a wave of affection for the man who had poured his heart into making this space a sanctuary. A small smile played on your lips as you noticed the neat plate left on the stove, a thoughtful note from Katsuki propped up against the fridge.

Use the toaster oven to reheat your food so it doesn’t ruin the taste. See you soon. - K

You chuckled softly, your fingers tracing over the words before you reached for the plate. Despite Katsuki’s well-meaning instructions, you decided to eat the food lukewarm, not wanting to lose the initial burst of flavor. A little mischievous smirk tugged at your lips as you purposefully smudged a bit of syrup on the microwave door,(The very one you had to fight tooth and nail for!) Knowing he would sense something amiss in this kitchen before he even stepped through the door and would get worked up until he realized what happened. 

Breakfast satisfied and your mind already envisioning the day ahead, you sauntered back up the stairs and into the bathroom. The warm water cascaded over your body, washing away the remnants of fatigue from the previous night's shift. You reveled in the tranquility, the gentle hum of the water a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

Wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel, you padded over to the walk-in closet, your eyes lighting up at the sight of your favorite two-piece sweat suit. The soft fabric hugged you comfortably, a perfect blend of style and ease. You grabbed your purse, the anticipation of a pampering session at the new nail salon buzzing in your veins.

Today was your day, and you were ready to indulge in it fully.

You grabbed your Juicy Couture purse from its spot by the door, the soft leather gleaming under the light as you slung it over your shoulder. A moment of contemplation followed as you pondered which car to take—your sleek options lined up in the garage, a reflection of both yours and Katsuki's tastes. With a playful smile, you decided on the pearl white BMW, its elegant curves and smooth handling making it the perfect choice for the day.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you reveled in the luxurious feel of the leather against your skin, the familiar hum of the engine purring to life beneath your fingers. The drive to your favorite café was quick and leisurely, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the streets. You pulled into the drive-thru, placing your order with a smile, and soon enough, a perfectly crafted drink was in your hands, the aroma rich and inviting.

With your drink in the cup holder, you headed toward the upscale salon and mall area, finding a convenient spot in the parking lot. Leaning back in your seat, you sipped your drink leisurely, the peaceful ambiance of the morning settling over you. The salon, with its chic exterior and promise of indulgence, awaited just beyond. Savoring the last few moments of quiet, you allowed yourself to relax fully, the anticipation of the pampering session making the day feel all the more luxurious.

Omg, the girls weren’t lying. 

The salon was a haven of tranquility, a serene escape from the relentless pace of hero duties—a sanctuary where the burdens of the day could be set aside, even if just for a while. As you stepped inside, the soothing scent of lavender and chamomile wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, instantly easing the tension in your shoulders. The interior exuded understated elegance, with soft, muted tones that created a calming atmosphere. The decor was a harmonious blend of chic and cozy, featuring pastel walls, plush chairs, and ambient lighting that bathed the room in a soft, inviting glow. Every detail was thoughtfully curated to evoke a sense of peace and relaxation.

A warm smile from the receptionist greeted you, and soon you were escorted to a luxurious chair. As you sank into the plush seat, a technician approached with a menu of beverages. You selected a refreshing iced cherry soda, the vibrant hot pink drink a perfect complement to the tranquil surroundings. The cool, sweet flavor was a delightful contrast to the warmth of the spa treatments awaiting you, a sensory experience that promised rejuvenation.

Settling in, you allowed yourself to be enveloped by the calm ambiance. The gentle hum of quiet conversations and soft music provided a soothing backdrop as you prepared to indulge in this well-deserved moment of self-care.

The experience was nothing short of divine. The nail technician's gentle hands worked wonders, massaging your tired fingers and shaping your nails with meticulous care. You found yourself recording snippets of the process, a habit born from those middle school days when you and Denki had decided to try your hand at becoming influencers. Despite the demanding life of a pro hero, you still cherished these moments of creativity, sharing slices of your life with a loyal following.

The soft hum of conversation, the soothing music, and the indulgence of the pampering session left you in a state of bliss. You felt rejuvenated, every muscle relaxed, and a newfound energy coursing through your veins.

As you shifted to the pedicure station, you were greeted by a young man with a friendly smile. His easy demeanor put you at ease as you settled into the comfortable chair. When you asked for a cute French tip, he nodded confidently, assuring you he could handle it. You leaned back, savoring the calm atmosphere, a book open in your lap as he got to work.

The salon was mostly empty, allowing for a tranquil silence to settle over the space. You alternated between reading and capturing small moments on your phone, careful not to distract the young man too much. His focus was intense, and his movements were precise, a testament to his skill.

However, it wasn’t long before you noticed something… different. 

His hands moved with expert precision, but the way he was massaging your feet felt more akin to a deep tissue massage than a standard pedicure. His fingers pressed into the arches of your feet, kneading away tension you hadn’t realized you were carrying. The strength in his grip was undeniable, and you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing beneath his company t-shirt as he worked with dedication.

A blush crept up your neck, and you quickly switched your phone’s camera to record your reaction. Your face, caught between flustered and perplexed, filled the screen. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the slight widening of your eyes and the subtle twitch of your lips betrayed your surprise.

"Y’all, why is this man rubbing my feet like I don’t have a husband!"

Is what you captioned the video with a playful smirk before sending it off to the girls' group chat, hoping to share the humorous moment with your friends. With a sigh, you set your phone aside and tried to focus on your book, determined to relax despite the unexpectedly thorough massage.

What you didn’t realize, however, was that in your haste, you had accidentally sent the video to Katsuki.

Who, unbeknownst to you, was just finishing up his morning shift. 

The locker room buzzed with the usual post-training banter, laughter echoing off the walls as the group of friends wrapped up their routines. Katsuki was methodically stowing his gear, his face set in a determined scowl as he prepared to clock out for his half-day. The hum of casual conversation filled the space, Denki lounging nearby with Katsuki's phone in hand as he played Crossy road.

A notification lit up Katsuki’s screen, and Denki, ever the curious one, leaned over his chair with a sly grin. "Hey, man, that’s from your wife!" Denki said, his eyes gleaming with intrigue as he caught a glimpse of the video thumbnail.

Sero and Mina, not ones to miss out on the fun, sidled up next to Denki. "Oooo," they chorused teasingly, exchanging grins as Mina leaned closer to get a better look. Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, slamming his locker door shut with a decisive clang.

"Don’t be weird," Katsuki growled, his voice low and edged with annoyance. 

His sharp eyes narrowed as Kami opened the message, the video playing in his hand. The sight of the young man’s hands on your feet, combined with your flustered expression and teasing caption, sent a surge of possessiveness through him.

Katsuki’s lips curled into a familiar scowl, the kind that sent shivers down the spines of villains. The familiar itch to protect and assert making his steps quicker as he made his way out. He knew you were at the salon, enjoying your day off, but now he had a sudden, burning need to make his presence known.

He grabbed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket, but not before Denki pulled his own phone out and made quick work of showing the video to Mina.

She squealed in delight, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "She’s at that salon! The one we recommended to her!" Mina said, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Kirishima, who had been tying his shoes nearby, perked up at the mention. "Do they do pedicures?" he asked, his tone curious. He caught the raised eyebrow from Sero and held up his hands defensively. 

"Hey, good foot hygiene is important for men too!"

Sero snickered, but nodded in agreement. "You got a point."

Katsuki, meanwhile, was grumbling under his breath, his patience thinning with each passing second. The thought of someone else touching you, coupled with the playful video you’d sent, made his protective instincts flare.

"Mina, where’s the salon?" he demanded, his voice sharp and urgent.

Denki, ever helpful, fished out the name from the video you’d posted on your story before she could ask why. He sent it over without missing a beat, the group watching with mild amusement as Katsuki’s scowl deepened.

"I’ll see you all tomorrow," Katsuki barked, his tone leaving no room for discussion as he turned on his heel and strode out of the locker room. Kirishima’s brows shot up, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Whoa. He never says goodbye like that," he remarked, glancing at the others.

Sero crossed his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. "Something serious must be happening," he mused, nodding toward the door Katsuki had just stormed through. Mina clasped her hands together, her grin mischievous. "Whatever it is, you know Bakugo’s gonna handle it in his own way." Denki snickered, slinging an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders. "Guess we’ll find out tomorrow. Hope the salon survives Katsuki’s visit."

“Maybe he’s finally gonna take care of those dogs of his.”

“Es un animal con ropa puesta.”

The group shared a laugh, each one picturing the storm that was sure to unfold with Katsuki on a mission.

—

The hum of the salon was soothing, a gentle rhythm of soft chatter and the occasional clink of tools as the nail technicians worked their magic.

You were reclining comfortably, your attention drifting between the subtle aroma of the lavender-scented air and the meticulous artistry unfolding before you. The young nail technician was expertly applying a baby pink French tip to your nails, each stroke so precise it felt as if he’d spent a lifetime mastering the craft. A small crowd of other technicians gathered nearby, watching with quiet admiration as he worked.

You were mid-way through admiring his steady hand when the faint chime of the doorbell caught your ear. At first, it barely registered, your focus lingering on the soft curves of the polish being applied. But then, the unmistakable sound of heavy boots hitting the tiled floor reverberated through the salon, and a shift in the atmosphere had you glancing up.

There, framed in the doorway, stood your husband, Katsuki Bakugo, in all his formidable glory. His sharp gaze, intense and unwavering, locked onto you instantly. The tight grey T-shirt stretched over his sculpted frame and dark grey jeans—no doubt a product of Best Jeanist's influence—fit him perfectly, accentuating his powerful build. A black jacket thrown over his shoulders completed the look, giving him an effortlessly cool demeanor. His expression, however, was anything but relaxed.

Your heart skipped a beat as you waved at him, a warm smile lighting up your face. "Hi, pookie!" you called out, your voice sweet and affectionate.

"Hi," Katsuki grumbled, his deep voice softened only slightly as his eyes remained fixed on you. He spared a brief glance at the young nail technician, whose confusion was evident as he turned to face the towering figure now standing behind him. The technician quickly returned to his work, muttering something about the session being almost done and how it was a pleasure working with you.

You thanked him for the lovely design, your eyes twinkling with appreciation before turning back to Katsuki, a pout forming on your lips. "Come here," you beckoned, wondering why you hadn’t yet been wrapped in one of his warm, grounding embraces.

Katsuki didn’t hesitate. In a few swift strides, he was by your side, his arms encircling you as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, fervent kiss. The world seemed to blur at the edges, your book, Juicy Couture purse, and phone almost slipping from your grasp as his intensity overwhelmed you. His lips were demanding yet tender, drawing out a soft sigh from you before he pulled back just enough to plant two more kisses on your now-flushed lips.

His hand smoothed over your hair, his touch gentle and grounding. "Ya wanna get your hair done too while I hit the grocery store?" he asked, his voice gruff but laced with a softer undertone meant only for you.

You blinked up at him, nodding slowly. "Do you have a specific style in mind?" you asked, curious about his sudden suggestion.

Katsuki shrugged, his thumb brushing along your cheek. "I love your natural hair. If ya wanna go for that, do it. But if yer thinking about something different, go for it." His tone was casual, but the sincerity in his words made your heart swell.

You chuckled softly, recounting that the two of you had an event later in the week. "Maybe I should get a blowout," you mused, already imagining the sleek, polished look.

Without a word, Katsuki pulled a thick wad of cash from his pocket and slipped it into your purse, his actions swift and without fanfare. "Get whatever ya want," he said simply, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of affection and determination as he settled into a nearby chair, crossing his arms as if staking his claim on the moment.

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you as you savored his gesture. Katsuki had a way of making you feel cherished and understood, even in the simplest acts. The salon might have been an oasis of calm, but with him there, 

It felt like home.

The nail technician returned with a bottle of lotion, his demeanor professional yet gentle as he began applying it to your feet and legs. The soothing motions were a balm for your tired muscles, and you sighed softly, leaning back into the plush chair. Your slightly rolled-up pants exposed just enough for the technician to work efficiently, but the moment Katsuki’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened, you knew things were about to change.

Katsuki shifted in his seat, his gaze locked on the young man’s hands as they moved over your skin. His fists clenched, the tension radiating from him like an impending storm. Finally, he stood, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the technician, who glanced up in surprise.

“Move,” Katsuki ordered, his voice low but unmistakably firm. He didn’t give the younger man time to argue or even process the command before reaching for the bottle of lotion himself.

The nail tech stepped back, his face flushed with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. He mumbled a quick, “Of course,” before retreating a few steps, his eyes darting nervously between you and Katsuki.

Your face heated up as well, caught between amusement and mortification as Katsuki squirted some lotion into his hands, his movements precise and purposeful.

He knelt in front of you, carefully lifting your foot onto his knee, your leg almost touching his clothed chest, and began massaging the lotion into your skin with a familiarity and expertise that only he possessed. His fingers worked magic, kneading away the stress and tension with firm but tender strokes. His ears turned a deep red, betraying his effort to maintain a stoic facade, and he resolutely avoided meeting your gaze.

You bite your lip, your heart pounding in your chest as his touch sends waves of warmth through you. 

Katsuki was thorough, his concentration evident as he ensured every inch of your foot and leg was cared for, before moving to the other leg. His broad hands made the task seem effortless, and yet you could see the faint tension in his shoulders as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

When he finished, Katsuki reached for the little foam flip-flops, placing them delicately on the floor. He gathered your book, purse, and phone, his actions smooth and efficient. Then, with a gentleness that contrasted with his earlier intensity, he took both of your hands in his, helping you to your feet and guiding you into the flip-flops.

He handed you your belongings momentarily before excusing himself to wash his hands at the nearby sink. You stood there, still somewhat dazed, before turning to the young nail tech with a smile. Digging into your purse, you pulled out a $25 tip, handing it to him with a sincere thank you. He bowed deeply, his face still tinged with color as he expressed his gratitude.

You waddled over to the reception desk, the soft padding of the flip-flops muffling your steps. The receptionist greeted you with a warm smile, and just as you were about to pull out your wallet, Katsuki was there, his platinum black card already in hand. He passed it to the receptionist with a quiet, “Here,” and added a $10 tip to her as well. You smiled, pulling out another $30 to tip the first nail tech before expressing your thanks for the excellent service.

As the receptionist and technicians wished you a good day, you turned to find Katsuki already holding the door open, his gaze softening as he reached for your purse and book. You handed them over without hesitation, your heart fluttering at the small, protective gestures that were so uniquely him.

Before you could take another step, Katsuki scooped you up effortlessly, one arm beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. He held you close, his familiar warmth seeping into you as he stepped outside into the crisp early afternoon air. His stride was purposeful, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection as he carried you toward the car, every bit the overprotective, loving husband you adored.

As Katsuki carried you towards the car, he maneuvered effortlessly, balancing you with one arm as he reached for the passenger door handle with the other. The door swung open, but before he could set you down, your hands found their way to his head, fingers threading through his ash-blond hair in that tender, familiar way only you could manage.

Your soft touch was magic against his scalp, a soothing caress that sent waves of warmth radiating through his body. Katsuki felt the tingles ripple along his nerves, the sensation making his breath hitch as his knees threatened to buckle under the blissful spell you wove. His face, pressed against your tummy for a fleeting moment, grew hot, a telltale flush that you felt even through the fabric of your clothes.

Carefully, he placed you inside the car, the motion deliberate as he tucked you into the seat, his hands lingering just a second longer than necessary. You felt the heat emanating from him, a gentle reminder of his vulnerability in your presence. He leaned over to buckle your seatbelt, his fingers brushing against you with the lightest touch.

You cupped his face, his skin warm beneath your palms, and leaned in, brushing your nose against his in a soft Eskimo kiss. Katsuki closed his eyes, leaning into the tender gesture, returning it with a gentleness that made your heart ache in the best way. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes before making his way around the car to the driver’s seat.

As he slid into his seat, you seized the moment, quickly applying a layer of your favorite strawberry lip gloss. The sweet scent filled the air as you prepped yourself for what you knew was coming. The instant he buckled in, you pounced.

Your hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a deep, fervent kiss that left him momentarily stunned. Katsuki’s eyes widened in surprise at your sudden burst of strength and passion, but he quickly melted into it, his lips moving against yours with an equal hunger. He let out a low, muffled sound of approval, his hands finding your waist as he unbuckled your seatbelt, giving you the freedom to shift closer.

You moved fluidly, swinging a leg over to straddle him, your knees resting on either side of his hips as you settled into his lap. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back and gripping your waist firmly, as if grounding himself in the moment. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with your own as the kiss deepened, both of you lost in the electrifying connection.

Katsuki leaned back into the seat, pulling you with him, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted his head to better meet your lips. His breath was hot against your skin, mingling with the faint taste of strawberry from your gloss. You felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, a subtle reminder of the strength he held, though in this moment, he seemed entirely at your mercy.

Fucking delicious. 

The world outside the car faded away, leaving only the cocoon of intimacy you shared, every kiss, every touch a testament to the deep bond between you.

Katsuki’s grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your sides with a possessive fervor that sent a thrill shooting through your body. His lips moved with urgency now, a heady mix of passion and need, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Your hands, still cradling his face, slid down to his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, a reminder of the raw power he carried so effortlessly.

You arched your lower back, pressing yourself closer, eliciting a low growl from deep within his chest. The sound vibrated against your skin, stirring something primal within you. Katsuki's hands roamed lower, one slipping under the hem of your shirt to splay across the bare skin of your lower back, his touch hot and electric. He pulled you even closer, his breath coming in ragged gasps between fervent kisses.

The intensity grew as you shifted in his lap, your hips rocking against him, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Katsuki. His hands roamed freely now, one sliding up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he gazed at you with a heat that made your heart race. The other hand slipped lower, gripping your thigh with a firmness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You’re driving me crazy," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky, laced with desire. The raw honesty in his words ignited something fierce within you, your body responding instinctively as you leaned in to capture his lips once more, your kiss deeper, more demanding.

“I know!~”

Katsuki shifts beneath you, his hands sliding under your thighs as he lifts you slightly, adjusting your position to press you against him even more intimately. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his heart pounding in time with yours, the air between you thick with unspoken need.

Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging gently, and he groans, the sound low and primal, sending a ripple of excitement through you. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth grazing just enough to send a delicious jolt of sensation, before soothing the spot with a gentle flick of his tongue. The contrast was intoxicating, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"Goddamn, baby, you’re perfect," he whispered, his lips trailing along your jawline, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You gasped, your body arching into his touch, every nerve ending alight with sensation. His hands moved again, this time slipping under your shirt, his fingertips tracing the curve of your spine, sending shivers cascading down your body.

"Suki," you breathed, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and anticipation. His name on your lips was all the encouragement he needed as he claimed your mouth once more, the kiss deep and consuming, as if he wanted to devour every inch of you. His hands explored with a confidence and familiarity that left you dizzy, your body responding to his touch as if it were second nature.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just you and Katsuki, lost in each other, the world outside forgotten as the heat between you intensified, leaving you both breathless and utterly consumed.

So you decided to have some fun. 

You pull back, your hands gently but firmly pushing Katsuki back into the chair. His deep vermillion eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and confusion flickering across his face. He stays still for a moment, trying to process your sudden change in demeanor, before narrowing his eyes and attempting to rise again.

So you push his big bodied ass back down. 

Katsuki blinked, still dazed as he found himself pressed back against the seat, your hands firmly on his chest. His eyes search yours, flickering with a mix of confusion, frustration, and something else—something sad. His lips parted as if to speak, but you beat him to it, your voice soft yet teasing.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, your smile playful as you gently pushed him back again when he tried to sit up. His brows furrowed, and he blinked at you, clearly perplexed by your sudden shift in mood.

“Hah?!” he finally managed, his tone edged with irritation, though the confusion remained.

His reaction is sharp, but there's an undertone of bewilderment as he searches your face for answers, clearly unprepared for your unexpected move.

You tilted your head, keeping your smile intact as you poked his cheek gently. “Why are you acting more gremlin-ish than usual? Does this have anything to do with that video I accidentally sent you?”

His gaze sharpened, and he scoffed, turning his head away from you. “Tch, no.” His arms crossed over his chest in a defensive gesture, a barrier between him and the vulnerability you were nudging at.

“Come on, Kats, don’t be like this,” you coaxed, your fingers continuing to poke and prod his face, knowing you were one of the few people he’d ever let touch him like this. You press your first fingers into the soft squish of his apple cheeks before gently tracing over his scar. Katsuki’s jaw tenses, but before you can push further, his hand shoots out, swift as a viper, snatching you up in one fluid motion.

With surprising ease, he shifted you beside him, laying you down in the cramped space of the driver seat, pinning you with his gaze as he hovered slightly over you. His voice low, eyes scanning your face as if reading your every thought.

“Ya wanna go home now or get yer hair done?” 

You pouted, your hands resting on his chest and forearms. “Why can’t you just communicate when it’s obvious you were a little jealous?”

His thumbs pressed into the soft spot on your hip, a subtle reminder of just how dangerous this territory was. His smirk, however, was sharp and knowing.

“You wanna tell me now, or get nothing when we get home?” you teased, your voice a playful challenge.

His eyes narrowed, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he leaned forward. 

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, try it,” you dared, your grin widening as you watched him wrestle with himself. His gaze flicked back to you, hesitant but defiant. Finally, he huffed, the blush deepening.

“I didn’t like that other man touching all over my wife,” he admitted, his voice gruff, the words almost sticking in his throat.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled up. “Katsuki, he wasn’t touching all over me,” you corrected gently. “And I’m not letting up until you look at me.” Reluctantly, he met your gaze, his blush not fading as he sighed. 

“Hi,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice light, affectionate. Leaning up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him close. 

“You’re such a cute baby girl when you’re jealous.”

His groan was immediate, a low, rumbling sound as he let his head fall onto your shoulder. “That killed it,” he grumbled, his hands finding your waist as he flipped you over onto him. “You’ve got two choices—here  or yer hair appointment.”

You giggled, pressing your palms against his chest. “Katsuki, we can’t do ‘that’ here.”

“Why not?” he challenged, his fingers tracing the smooth skin of your back and stomach, his hands hot against you.

“For one, it’s public,” you pointed out, shivering as his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath warm against your pulse.

“Don’t care,” he muttered, his mouth continuing its path, sending little jolts of pleasure through you.

“And two,” you continued, your voice breathy, “someone could see us and make a report.”

That, at least, made him pause.

He huffed, frustrated, before burying his face in your neck, his arms tightening around you in a possessive hug. You stroked his hair gently, your fingers threading through the soft strands. “Aw, you big baby,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

His lips curled into a faint smirk against your skin. 

“Hey! No pinching!” you squeaked, feeling the mischievous squeeze on your butt.

“You make it too easy,” he teased, his voice low and warm, his hands settling into a gentler hold as he nuzzled against you, content to bask in your presence despite the lingering frustration.

You pulled back from the kiss, gazing into Katsuki’s eyes, your heart swelling with affection. “You make my life easy,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of gratitude. “Thank you for always taking care of me and being such a good husband.”

A warm smile tugged at Katsuki’s lips, and before you could even process, he was kissing you again. This time, it was more tender, more loving. His left hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle as he leaned into the kiss, his lips molding against yours with a careful, almost reverent pressure. You felt his right arm snake around your waist, pulling you closer, securing you against him, not an ounce of space between your bodies.

Your fingers naturally found their way to his chest, resting over his quickly beating heart. You could feel the steady, fast thrum beneath your fingertips as you traced the spot, watching as he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your lips.

You sank down into his lap, moving slowly, deliberately, your body settling firmly against his. You tangled your fingers into his soft, spiky hair, feeling the strands between your fingers as you closed your eyes, letting yourself melt into the feeling of him beneath you. Your breath evened out, and you let your forehead rest against his, the space between your hearts closing as you intertwined your left hand with his right. You could feel the steady pulse of his heartbeat in his fingertips, and it matched the rhythm of your own.

“Thank you for lettin' me take care of you,” he whispered, his voice hushed and almost reverent.

You stayed like that, your foreheads touching, breaths mingling as time seemed to stand still. You couldn’t help the small, contented smile that tugged at your lips, your fingers lightly tracing the veins running through his hand. There was something so intimate in that simple gesture, in the way you could feel each other’s pulse, the unspoken connection that ran between you. The world outside felt far away, and in this moment, it was just you and Katsuki.

“Awwww!”

The sudden, loud chorus of voices from the outside made both of you freeze, and your hearts skipped a beat. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you both turned toward the window, where the unmistakable faces of Denki, Mina, Sero, and Kirishima were pressed up against the glass, their exaggerated expressions of glee clear even from here.

“OH, YOU GUYS ARE TOO CUTE!” Denki shouted, his grin practically stretching ear to ear, his thumbs up in the air as he made obnoxious “heart” hand gestures.

Mina’s hands were pressed against the glass, her face lighting up as she made kissy faces toward the two of you. “I’m literally dying!” she squealed, fanning herself dramatically. “You two are so cute, oh my god, you’re giving me life!”

Sero, ever the playful one, was pretending to wipe away fake tears, looking utterly overwhelmed. “Look at them! El verdadero amor nunca muere! My heart can’t take it!” he moaned melodramatically.

Kirishima stood behind the others, arms crossed over his chest, his smirk wide and proud. “Yo, that’s my bro! Keep it up, man!” He gave Katsuki a thumbs up, completely unfazed by the fact that you both were clearly caught in a very private moment.

You froze, caught between the shock of being interrupted and the heat that was rapidly rising to your cheeks. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from Katsuki, who had gone completely still, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter, his jaw tightening in that way that meant he was fighting off embarrassment.

You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him like a wave, and you couldn’t help but giggle despite yourself. “Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into his, trying to stifle the laughter that bubbled up. You could feel Katsuki’s face burning against your skin as he growled low in his throat, his body tense beneath you.

“Shut the fuck up, you idiots!” Katsuki barked, though there was an unmistakable, embarrassed edge to his voice. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Denki wasn’t backing down, though. “Oooooh, looks like the big guy’s shy now!” he teased, clearly loving the situation.

“Shut it, stupid,” Katsuki snarled, his voice still rough, but there was a hint of fondness behind his irritation.

You could feel Katsuki’s heartbeat beneath your palm, still racing, as you pressed your lips to his cheek, giving him a soft kiss to reassure him. He huffed but relaxed just a little at the touch, clearly more annoyed at being caught than truly embarrassed.

“Stop staring at us, you perverts,” you called out, though your voice was tinged with laughter. “You’re gonna ruin the moment!”

Mina stuck out her tongue and waved dramatically. “We’re not the ones ruining it,” she teased, her hands still framing her face as she fluttered her lashes at you both. Kirishima gave another hearty laugh. “Hey, don’t worry, man, you two have been together forever, you deserve all the ‘aww’s’!” He threw Katsuki another heart, making the other man growl under his breath.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” you said with a smile, gently pulling away from Katsuki, though his arms tightened around you, not quite ready to let go.

The others backed away from the window, still waving and making kissy faces at you, leaving you and Katsuki in your little bubble of quiet tension. His hands finally released their hold on your waist, but his fingers lingered for a second, as if unwilling to fully let go. You turned to him with a grin, brushing your lips against his jaw.

“Home now?” you teased, voice full of warmth and amusement, feeling that familiar pull between you both, even with the entire world watching.

“Hell yeah,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss you one last time before you both settled into the car, determined to leave behind the embarrassment and bask in your shared warmth.

—

"Well, that’s how it would've gone if you hadn’t lied and basically stranded me at the salon while you were grocery shopping," you say, shaking your head slightly. "And picking up cute sweaters, thinking you'd surprise me, but you know—"

Katsuki frowns, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly not understanding the full depth of your reasoning. "What, you steal my stuff because it’s your duty now? What the hell kinda logic is that?"

You give a playful shrug. "Yeah, pretty much. It's literally my job now as your wife to steal your clothes, and I can only give them back when they no longer smell like you."

You finish rubbing lotion onto your legs and arms, your movements slow and deliberate as you prepare for bed, the soft scent of the lotion mixing with the lingering fragrance of the shower. Katsuki’s eyes are locked on you, studying every motion with an intensity that almost feels like a heatwave in the room. After a beat of silence, he tilts his head slightly, as if trying to gauge whether you're serious or messing with him. 

He doesn’t quite seem convinced, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he stares at you with that familiar intensity, his gaze flickering as you move around the room. Then, without missing a beat, he breaks the silence with a casual, 

“Wanna get sweaty together?”

The words hang in the air for a moment, his deep voice making your heart skip. You freeze for a split second as you carefully wrap your hair in the silk scarf, the cool material sliding over your fingers as you look at him through the reflection in the vanity mirror. Your eyes meet his, and you can see the playful glint in his gaze, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Sweaty? I— Oh!" The heat that suddenly swirled in your lower stomach caught you off guard, the warmth curling low as his smile turned sharp, wicked even. You could feel his gaze on you from the bed, intense, like he was savoring the tension in the air.Katsuki shifted on the bed, his voice held a teasing edge when he spoke again, every word dripping with intent, 

"I saw what you did to my microwave, you little shit."

Your stomach flipped as your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t even need to ask what he meant. You knew exactly what he was referring to. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you avoided his gaze in the mirror. 

What were you supposed to say?! There was no point in trying to justify it. 

You did smear syrup all over the microwave.

Knowing it would work your clean freak husband up. 

But before you could even process a response, your feet were already moving before your brain could catch up.

You threw yourself out of the vanity chair, your body a blur of action. You didn’t even glance at him as you bolted for the door, the room instantly filled with the sound of your hurried steps echoing through the hallway. The soft padding of your bunny slippers barely made a sound, but your heart was thundering in your chest as you dashed past the hallway, dodging furniture and glancing back over your shoulder.

Katsuki’s laughter, low and knowing, rumbled from behind you, the sound growing louder as his footsteps followed close behind. He was coming for you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You could hear the shift in his tone—hungry, playful, and definitely too cocky for your liking. 

He was enjoying this, you realized.

‘Think fast, think fast!’ You glanced wildly around, and then, on instinct, you jumped. You sailed over the stair railing, landing with a soft thud on the other side. The movement was fluid, practiced, but the rush of adrenaline made it feel like the world had slowed down. The next few seconds were a blur of frantic footfalls and the sound of your breath catching in your chest.

You didn’t have time to scream or laugh—it was all pure instinct now as you dashed through the house. 

Every step was a race against him. You darted from one room to the next, flipping on every light you could reach, as if trying to outsmart him with a maze of illumination. You tried to drown out the sound of his voice, calling out to you, teasing you.

"Where’d you go, huh? You think you can run from me?" Katsuki’s voice bounced off the walls, deep and full of that teasing edge. His footsteps were much closer now.

You couldn’t let him catch you just yet, not while you still had a chance. The house felt too large, yet too small, and you knew the only way to stay out of his grasp was to stay one step ahead. You could hear him, but he hadn’t quite found you yet.

With a quiet gasp, you pressed yourself against the wall, slipping into the narrow space between the large sectional and the wall. 

The living room was eerily silent now, the only sound being your heavy breathing and the slight rustling of your robe. You held your breath, eyes darting from the shadows of the room to the hallway beyond. 

‘Stay quiet, stay still, don’t even fucking breathe’ you told yourself, the anticipation thick in the air.

The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. Your heart was hammering in your chest, each beat loud enough that you thought he might hear it, but then you heard it—the subtle sound of his footsteps, faint at first, but growing louder as he circled the room.

"You think you can hide from me, huh?" Katsuki’s voice was low, predatory, and full of amusement. 

"I’m gonna find you, little bunny. There’s nowhere you can hide."

You felt the hairs on your neck stand up as the anticipation crept into your veins. He was so close. You could practically feel him, his energy filling the space, even if you couldn’t see him. His presence was like a heat wave moving through the room.

And then it happened.

A loud thud, and the creak of the floorboards beneath his weight. His voice, sharper now, echoed in the space. "I know you're here, damn it. Don’t make me come get you."

You tensed, knowing your time was running out. He was near, but you had one more move left. You didn’t wait. You took the chance. You shot out from your hiding place, darting for the sliding door before he could reach you.

But it was too late.

With a speed that seemed to defy logic, Katsuki was on you in seconds. His large hand gripped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You gasped in surprise, your heart racing as you felt the heat of his body press against your back.

“Yer gonna have to do better than that,” he growled in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

With his other hand, he pulled you roughly into his chest, his muscles flexing with the effort as he forced you into his embrace. You could feel his heart beating just as wildly as yours, and despite the playful teasing, there was a fire in his touch that made your pulse quicken.

Katsuki’s lips pressed to the side of your neck, his voice a soft, dangerous murmur. “You can’t outrun me, babe. Now... what’s this about dirtying my stuff?”

“You didn’t even want the microwave!”

The two ‘love taps’ on your ass that followed told you that wasn't the point.  

You swallowed, feeling the playful, mischievous tension shift into something much more intense. You could feel the smirk against his skin, his chest still rumbling with amusement. He wasn’t going to let this go easily.

"I guess you’ve caught me," you murmured, your voice breathless. "But you still haven’t figured out what you’re gonna do about it, have you?"

His response was a low, satisfied chuckle, his grip tightening just enough to remind you who was in control. "Oh, I’ve got a few ideas," he murmured darkly, and just like that, you knew this game was far from over.

The tension in the air shifted once more, as Katsuki grabbed your waist as you tried to dart past him, guiding you toward the kitchen with a firm hand ont he small of your back. His grip was strong, commanding, as he led you to the microwave.

"Get to work," he grumbled, his voice low and filled with that same playful authority. The mess you’d made—smeared syrup on the microwave—was now your responsibility to clean up. You could see his smirk from the corner of your eye, clearly enjoying the little game he'd forced you into.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pouting as you grabbed a rag from the counter and began wiping the sticky mess away. It wasn't exactly what you'd had in mind for a fun evening. You sighed dramatically, your body language exaggerated as you huffed.

"This wasn’t what I had in mind, you know," you muttered under your breath, clearly disappointed.

Katsuki glanced up from the apple he was casually biting into, his deep eyes locking onto yours as his lips curled into a teasing smile. "What did you have in mind?" His voice held that same playful edge, but there was something beneath it—a hint of satisfaction in knowing that you'd been caught, and he was making you work for it.

You scowled, wanting to retort, but all you could do was finish the job, swiping the last of the syrup away with a little more force than necessary. Katsuki’s gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the heat of his attention despite his nonchalant chewing. He enjoyed this too much—seeing you all riled up and a little annoyed. You could tell by the stupid sexy small grin playing on his lips.

Finally, when the job was done, you straightened up, wiping your hands on your robe. Katsuki pushed off the counter and walked past you, his voice casual as he asked, "You ready for bed now?"

The suggestion of rest was tempting, but you weren't done with him just yet. You rubbed your hands together slowly, grinning mischievously inside as you felt the heat rise between you again. Katsuki turned to face you, already half-expecting something more, but his brow furrowed when he noticed the way you were acting.

"Is the house too cold for you?" he asked, the softness in his voice indicating he was already thinking of ways to keep you comfortable. "I’ll turn up the heat."

But before he could even take another step toward the thermostat, your hand darted out, warm and quick. 

The palm of your hand landed with a firm smack against his ass cheek, the impact loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen. Katsuki froze, his eyes narrowing in shock, but before he could fully process it, you did it again. A quick, sharp tap to the other cheek—once, then twice—your hand connecting with his firm, muscular backside.

He whipped around, his eyes flashing with the same fiery intensity you knew so well. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, a growl barely concealed beneath the words, and his chest rose and fell with a deep breath, clearly trying to control the surge of heat that ran through him.

But before he could respond or chase you, you darted away, sprinting down the hallway with your heart racing. The adrenaline from the earlier chase was still pumping in your veins, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself, knowing that you were in for it now. You could already feel the change in him—a shift from playful to downright determined, and that meant trouble for you.

His voice, sharp and commanding, followed you as you ran through the house. 

"Oh, you're gonna get it now!" 

There was no sweetness in his words anymore, just the promise of payback, and you knew he meant it.

You could feel it before you even reached the hallway corner—the heavy thuds of his footsteps as he chased after you. He was pissed, but there was a certain gleam in his eyes that told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you couldn’t stop the thrill of it all. You were playing with fire, and Katsuki was more than ready to burn.

The panic you felt as you scrambled into the prep kitchen and opened the pantry was only tempered by the rush of adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You threw the door closed behind you with a soft, but hurried click, and you quickly scaled the shelves, barely keeping your balance as you shoved yourself into the corner. It was dark, cramped, and smelled faintly of spices, but it was perfect for hiding—for now, at least.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, biting back the urge to laugh at your own antics. Playing this game with Katsuki was dangerous, and you knew it. But what could you say? You were addicted to the thrill, to the way you could tap dance on his nerves like this, driving him crazy. It was a game, one you both knew well, and hell, you’d earned it. As his wife, it was practically your constitutional right to rile him up a little.

Your eyes darted around the small, dark pantry, and your breath slowed as you listened carefully for any sound of Katsuki. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, faintly, you heard the echoing crackle of something in the distance, the unmistakable sound of soft explosions. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what it was—Katsuki was out there, his quirk flaring. You barely had time to register the thought before you saw a faint glow from under the pantry door, the light from his explosions spilling in through the cracks as he tested the area.

For a moment, the kitchen went eerily silent. The door swung open, just enough to let in more light, and you could hear his heavy footsteps, slow and deliberate. He wasn’t using his quirk anymore, but his presence was palpable, a tension in the air you could practically taste.Eventually, the door closed again, but you didn’t hear any footsteps leading away. 

You swallowed, holding your breath, wondering if he was waiting for you to give yourself away. What if he was just outside the door, waiting for you to slip up? The thought made your pulse race again, and you crouched down lower, hoping to stay hidden just a little longer. The quiet was agonizing as you waited, counting each second, your heart thudding in your ears.

Gently, you climbed back down from your spot and tiptoed to the center of the pantry doors. You couldn’t see any feet from under the door and when you peaked through the crack, no one was there. Even the door to the prep kitchen was close, moonlight streaming in from the window. 

Then, just as you began to relax, a shiver ran up your spine, and you swore you could feel him looking at you, his gaze burning through the air. It was a wild thought, but your instincts told you it was true. You hadn’t heard him move, but you felt it—the knowing presence of Katsuki, so close yet so far. You froze, barely daring to move as you waited for him to make his next move.

And then it came.

A soft whisper, just behind your ear, as warm lips brushed against your ear. 

"Is he gone yet?"

Your breath hitched, and you barely stifled a scream. 

He had been right there the whole time, lying in wait, ready to strike. You gasped and immediately bolted, stumbling out of your hiding spot as you tore down the pantry shelves, your heart pounding. 

"Katsuki!" you screamed, the sound of your voice only fueling the chase. 

He tricked you! 

And now, you were going to pay for it.

You ran back into the kitchen, your legs moving faster than they should have, but you weren’t about to let him win. You spun around the counter, ducking and dodging as you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps closing in behind you. Katsuki was hot on your heels, laughing darkly as he taunted, 

"You're not gonna outrun me, sweetheart!"

Your heart was racing as you darted around the kitchen, taking sharp corners and swerving around the island. It felt like an endless game of 'ring around the rosie'—only you were the one spinning in circles, desperate to keep your distance while Katsuki's laughter echoed all around you. The kitchen, your familiar battleground, was now your prison, and he was closing in.

Desperation filled you, and in a moment of inspiration (or maybe pure panic), you grabbed the nearest fruit basket. You swung it at him with all the force you could muster, and it hit him square in the chest, sending apples and oranges scattering across the floor. He paused for a moment, surprised by your impromptu attack, but the shock didn’t last long. A smirk spread across his face as he shook his head and turned back toward you.

“Nice try,” he growled, already moving after you again.

You shrieked and turned on your heel, racing toward the hallway. The next place to hide? You didn’t know yet, but you weren’t about to make it easy for him. You heard his footsteps pounding after you, his growls of annoyance growing louder with each step.

"Leave me alone!" you shouted, looking for any way to escape. "You're impossible!"

You dart into the home movie theater, your feet skidding slightly on the smooth hardwood floors as you crouch low between the rows of seats, hoping to lose Katsuki in the dimness of the room. The large space feels like a maze of plush chairs and hidden corners, perfect for slipping away unnoticed. Your pulse is pounding in your ears as you press your back to one of the seats, holding your breath, trying to calm the frantic energy running through you.

For a moment, all is silent, the only sound the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Then, without warning, the room is flooded with light as the giant movie screen flickers to life. You jerk your head up in alarm to see Katsuki standing at the front of the room, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. 

He’s leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like a predator waiting for its prey to make a mistake. The screen behind him casts a glow, making his features look sharp and dangerous—his vermillion eyes twinkling with amusement.

“You can’t hide forever, princess,” he calls out in a sing-song voice, and your stomach flutters in that wicked, dangerous way that only he can manage. It’s almost scary how much his presence affects you, but you can't stop the heat rising in your body as you feel his gaze locking onto you.

You throw the remote at him in a frantic attempt to distract him, and it hits him square in the chest. He chuckles darkly and catches it mid-air, his eyes still never leaving yours as he steps toward you. “Nice try,” he mocks, his voice low, full of dangerous amusement. 

“But you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.”

Before you can react, you turn and bolt out of the theater, running as fast as your legs can carry you. His footsteps echo behind you, the sound of him chasing you growing closer and closer. 

“Why don’t you wanna be a good wife, huh?” 

His voice rings out, teasing and laced with that underlying heat that makes your skin tingle. 

“Come over here so I can show you just how much of a bad girl you’re being.”

You let out a squeal of laughter and fear, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s something about how relentless he is, how playful yet serious, that makes you feel like a mixture of excitement and nervousness all at once. It’s almost overwhelming, the way his words make your heart do summer saults.

In your panic, you dart into the gaming room, thinking you can slip past him in the narrow space between the arcade machines and shelves of consoles. But the moment you step into the room, you realize your mistake. You’ve backed yourself into a corner, and you can already feel his presence behind you, drawing closer.

A low growl of frustration escapes his throat. 

“Really? You think this is gonna save you?” he grumbles, his voice rich with amusement as he stalks toward you, closing the gap faster than you can react. You try to dash around one of the desks, but he’s already there, his hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back with a force that leaves you breathless.

Before you know it, you’re pressed against the cool surface of a console, the light from the television screen casting strange shadows over your bodies. Katsuki’s face is inches from yours, his warm breath mingling with yours as his eyes burn with that teasing, wicked glint.

“Gotcha,” he growls softly, his lips curling into a smile that’s anything but sweet. You feel a surge of heat rush to your cheeks as you fight to catch your breath, the rush of adrenaline still pumping through you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says with a mock sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek. “Otherwise, I’d just let you keep running.”

But you’re trapped now, nowhere to go but back into his arms as he pulls you closer, his grip firm but playful. The game has changed, and you can feel it in every heated second that passes between you two.

You feel a mischievous spark flicker in your chest, a playful impulse bubbling up as you glance at Katsuki. Thinking quickly, you decide to act on your not-so-good thoughts and fake a cough, knowing full well that he wouldn’t deny you something as simple as water.

You cover your face against his shoulder, a dramatic cough escaping your lips, each one exaggerated and “delicate” as you turn to him, trying your best to sound like you're struggling without actually being in distress. You hold the coughs in just long enough to make it sound convincing, then pull back just slightly to give him a soft, pleading look.

“Kat,” you manage to whisper, your voice intentionally weak as you try to act as demure as possible while clearly playing him. “Could you get me some water? Please?”

His gaze softens for a moment, the protective instinct flaring up in him as he reaches over without a second thought, clearly not seeing the slight mischief in your eyes. His hand brushes your hair away from your face gently

As soon as the cough escapes your lips, you can see the flicker of concern flash across Katsuki's face. His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn't call you out. He knows you too well to fall for a typical trick, but when you fake a few more delicate coughs, turning your face into his shoulder and pretending to weakly gasp for air, he seems to soften. His scowl deepens, but he’s already scanning you, making sure you're actually okay.

"Kami, you're really something else," he mutters under his breath, but there's no bite in his tone. Instead, it's replaced with a reluctant tenderness as he hoists you up into his arms with ease, just like he’s done so many times before. The moment your body presses against his chest, you feel the warmth of him radiate through your own clothes, and you can’t help but smile, knowing you’re getting exactly what you wanted.

He carries you into the kitchen with a determined stride, like he’s on a mission. You’re basically cradled against him, the motion smooth but with that underlying power that only Katsuki can bring. You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring the way he smells, the comfort of his presence making everything feel secure, even if you were the one to initiate this little ruse.

Once he sets you on the kitchen counter, it’s all business. 

He turns around, reaching for the fridge and pulling out a ice cold water bottle, which he hands to you with a soft, "Here." His expression is serious now, a slight frown still lingering on his face, though it’s softened by the concern he can't hide entirely.

"Thank you," you murmur sweetly, taking the bottle and uncapping it with a soft twist. You sip from it generously, enjoying the coolness of the water that soothes your throat. All the while, you notice his gaze never leaves you, a little too intense for casual observation. The way he looks at you, like you're both an annoyance and a treasure, sends a shiver down your spine.

As you take another sip, Katsuki silently starts picking up the apples and oranges you’d thrown at him earlier. The way his muscular arms move, the tension in his back and shoulders as he bends down and reaches for the fallen fruit, has your thoughts wandering. For a split second, you can’t help but compare him to Jason, imagining what it would be like if Katsuki were to flex those powerful muscles with the same intent—though you know that Katsuki would never harm you.

He stands there, staring at you with his hands resting firmly on the counter. 

The muscles in his forearms flex as he leans in slightly, clearly waiting for you to acknowledge him. But it’s the way his eyes lock onto you, his expression serious but not without a hint of that playful edge that makes your heart beat faster. He stands so close, the heat of his body radiating toward you, and you almost swear you can feel the smoldering energy between you two, even without touching.

You take another sip of the water, but this time your gaze meets his, and you can't help but smirk. "You look good like that," you tease, unable to resist the playful glint in your own eyes as your gaze roams over him, savoring the way his muscles move with every action, every twitch of his body. It’s almost as if you’re daring him to take the next step.

Katsuki smirks back, his eyes darkening slightly. "You think you're so cute, don't you?" His voice is low, the undertone of desire thick enough for you to feel it in your bones.

But you're not done yet.

"You know, I am," you reply coyly, swinging your legs slightly on the counter, letting your robe ride up just a little. You watch the way his eyes flicker to your legs, the change in his expression that makes your stomach twist in excitement.

Katsuki clears his throat and leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he growls, "You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart." He pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, his vermilion eyes smoldering with a mix of amusement and desire. 

"You better be ready for the consequences."

And just like that, you know this little game of yours has taken a sharp turn. The air is thick with tension now, each second passing like an electric pulse between you both. But you’re not backing down. 

Not this time.

You seize the water bottle, chucking it at your husband again as his eyes narrow and he hits the ground in time, your pulse quickening as you dart off the counter and up the stairs, hoping your lucky stars are shining brightly tonight. The sound of Katsuki's curses and frustrated muttering echo from downstairs, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. ‘

"Oi, you little brat, don’t think you’re getting away that easily," his voice growls, a mix of exasperation and amusement lacing his words. "I swear to god, when I get my hands on you—"

The sound of Katsuki's curses and frustrated muttering echo from downstairs, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. The dim light from the hallway barely reaches the corners of the room, and with a quick glance around, you make a beeline for the space under the bed. You slide underneath, curling into a tight ball, trying to control your breathing as your pulse continues to throb in your ears. You’re nearly holding your breath now, hoping that the darkness of the room and the soft carpet will hide you long enough for him to give up the search.

‘He’s not chasing me,’ you think, laughing under your breath as you curl up into a tight ball, barely able to contain your giggles. The dim light from the hallway barely reaches you as you stay perfectly still, heart racing with excitement.

The silence stretches, just as you're starting to think you might actually get away with it, but then—crackle—the intercom crackles to life. Katsuki’s voice filters through, sending a shiver down your spine. His voice is dark and heavy with intent, cutting through the quiet of the house like a razor.

"Okay, little girl, have it your way," he growls, the sound of his explosions echoing faintly in the background, a sign that he’s still searching. "If you can hide for another 10 minutes without pulling any of your dirty tricks, the rest of the night can go your way."

You pause, the breath you’d been holding catching in your throat as you listen more intently. 

You don’t dare make a sound, your body tense beneath the bed, the room feeling colder as the challenge sets in. Katsuki’s words ring through your mind, and you can almost see the smirk on his face, even though you’re hidden in the shadows.

Then, the briefest of pauses. You could hear his explosions falter as if he was waiting for your response, but you stay still. His next words are low, full of weight, and deliberate as they slide from his mouth.

"If I win..." He drags it out, just enough to keep you on edge. 

"You’ll be my slave. Your choice."

Your stomach flutters with both anxiety and excitement, your pulse spiking at the dangerous proposition. 

Slave—his word lingers in your mind, and despite the heavy weight of it, there’s an undeniable thrill in the challenge he’s laying before you. The heat rises in your cheeks as you realize what’s at stake.

Another pause, and then his voice filters through again, darker this time, as though the stakes are raised even higher. "I’ll give you five minutes to come back and apologize. Otherwise..." His voice lowers to a growl, the chill of it making your spine straighten. 

"You better hope I don’t find you, princess."

Your breath hitches, the finality in his words sending a shiver through you. Every muscle tenses as you lie there, the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, drowning out the silence of the room. The space underneath the bed suddenly feels even tighter, as though the weight of his promise is closing in on you.

You’re caught between two choices—stay hidden and push your luck, or face him and risk the consequences. Your hands grip the floor beneath you, the texture of the carpet digging into your fingers as you think, weighing the choices, feeling the pressure of every second ticking by.

“BOOM!”

Something gets knocked over somewhere down the hall, and it stops your heart. You strain your ears and catch a noise. It’s Katsuki, his voice low but unmistakably annoyed, filtering through the walls.

You can hear the smirk in his tone, the barely restrained menace, and it sends a thrill straight through you. You feel a rush of adrenaline as the challenge settles into your chest. ‘A slave, huh?’ The thought makes you bite your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. 

But you can’t let him know you’re enjoying this.

You curl further beneath the bed, trying to keep as still as possible, your body pressing against the cool floorboards as you listen intently to his voice. His words ring in your ears, an irresistible mix of dominance and playfulness. You can practically feel the heat of his glare from here, even though you’re tucked away in your hiding spot.

“Ten minutes, huh?” you whisper to yourself, still not daring to move an inch. “Guess I better make this count.”

You hold your breath, willing yourself to stay silent, as you hear his footsteps grow closer. It’s eerily quiet for a moment, and then—footsteps, loud and deliberate—Katsuki’s on the move. He’s clearly taking his time, perhaps savoring this moment, knowing that you're somewhere just out of reach. His footsteps stop right outside the door to the guest bedroom.

“I'm coming for you, princess,” he calls through the door, voice low and menacing. 

"Seven minutes... Time’s ticking."

You hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear the quickening of your pulse. You can hear him walking around, at a deliberate pace, as if he's trying to cover every inch of the house. He's playing this game with the same ferocity he brings to everything—no hesitation, no mercy.

Your eyes flicker to the clock on the nightstand. Time’s slipping away, and you can practically feel the heat of his presence outside the room, waiting for you to make a move.

His voice suddenly filters through again, but this time, it’s even more teasing, drawing you in like a magnet. "I hope you know, I’m gonna find you. You’re not getting away with this, bunny."

Your breath catches in your throat. 

He’s close, and the clock is ticking down. 

You have to make a decision—will you continue hiding, hoping your luck will hold, or will you face him and take what’s coming? Either way, you're in this now, and the thrill of the chase is too intoxicating to back out of.

You wait for another few seconds, then slowly, carefully, you begin to crawl out from under the bed. The floor creaks beneath you, but you ignore it, moving as silently as you can toward the door. You hear his footsteps again, and they’re louder now, meaning he’s getting closer.

You quickly slip out of the guest bedroom and dart down the hallway, trying to keep your steps light. The adrenaline courses through you, and you feel a sudden, almost overwhelming desire to make him chase you a little longer.

But suddenly, just as you round the corner, you stop. 

You press yourself into the wall, holding your breath.

His voice rings out from down the hall, low and rough. "I'm getting close, little girl. I can feel you. You’re not gonna hide much longer." The challenge has shifted. The ball is in your court now. You might just be able to outsmart him... or you might end up surrendering to his demand, not knowing which would be more satisfying.

Your pulse races as you slip through the room, making your way back to the shared bedroom, your footsteps light but hurried. The house feels bigger now, emptier, as if the space is closing in on you.

Once you reach the door, you pause, a brief moment of hesitation before you push it open, slipping inside. 

The familiar scent of the room—of Katsuki, of home—wraps around you like a comforting blanket, but tonight, there’s no time for comfort.

You quickly climb into the bed, burying yourself beneath the thick comforter, the soft fluff of pillows surrounding you like a fortress. You pull the blankets tight around your body, cocooning yourself under layers, your body hidden from view. For a moment, you take a deep breath, your heart still racing from the game, the thrill not yet over.

You glance at the clock, counting down the minutes in your head. You can feel it—the frantic pace of the house around you, the subtle pressure building as the time slips away. ‘At least three more minutes,’ you think, your breath steadying as you listen to the muffled sounds of movement downstairs.

But then, suddenly, it all stops. 

The noise, the footsteps, the low muttering of Katsuki’s voice—all of it vanishes. 

A dead silence fills the air, so complete that it almost feels like the house has emptied, the stillness pressing in on you. You hold your breath, eyes wide in the darkness beneath the covers, your mind racing as you try to process the sudden absence of sound.

Had he given up? Or was this part of his plan? 

The unknown lingers in the air like a thick fog, and you lie there, still, not daring to move, every muscle tensed. You can’t tell if he’s waiting for you to make a mistake, or if he’s biding his time for something else.

The quiet stretches on, and it feels heavier now, as though Katsuki is just outside, watching, waiting.

You stay as still as possible, your heart pounding so loudly you swear it might give you away. Every inch of your body is frozen in place, breath shallow as you try to listen for any sign of movement, any clue as to what Katsuki is doing.

Then, out of nowhere, you feel it.

Arms wrap around you suddenly, pulling you into a firm hold. Your heart leaps in your throat as you gasp, the air squeezed out of you in an instant. A hand presses firmly over your mouth, stifling any sound that might escape, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. The pressure of his hold leaves no room for escape, your body effectively trapped against his, pressed up against the hard muscles of his body.

You stiffen, but the strength of his grip is unmistakable. The hand on your waist pulls you even closer, locking you in place, and you can feel every rigid line of his body against you. His warmth, the familiar scent of him—it all envelops you, but it only makes the tension sharper, the reality of your situation crashing down.

Katsuki’s body is solid behind you, his breathing steady but low, as though he’s been waiting for this moment, patient and calculating. You can feel his  strength, that palpable aura of control he always carries, and the way his muscles tense beneath your back as he holds you firmly in place.

For a long moment, neither of you move. 

The stillness between you two is thick, broken only by the ragged beat of your heart in your chest. He hasn’t said a word yet, but the way his grip tightens slightly, possessive and unyielding, tells you everything you need to know. He’s won this round, and he’s not letting go anytime soon.

"Did you really think you could hide from me that easily?" His voice comes low, a hiss vibrating through the air, right next to your ear. It’s a whisper, but it feels like a command, and the way his breath brushes against your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

You remain motionless, your mind spinning as you try to process what comes next. 

Katsuki’s grip around you tightens, but instead of the usual sharp dominance, there’s a surprising gentleness to it. His hand on your mouth lifts ever so slightly, his thumb brushing your lips in the softest of motions. For a moment, you’re left breathless, caught between confusion and something more electric that stirs under your skin.

You remain still, heart hammering in your chest, as you feel him pull you even closer, his chest pressing harder against your back. His breath is warm against your ear, and then—unexpectedly—his lips brush against your skin. The kiss is feather-light at first, a tentative press of his lips against your temple, as though testing something, gauging your reaction.

You freeze, the sensation catching you off guard. His lips are soft, too soft for the fierce, fiery hero you know him to be. It’s a contrast you’re not used to, and it disorients you. The kiss lingers for a moment before he pulls back slightly, but only enough to whisper in your ear.

"Don’t move," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, as if speaking to someone fragile. His hands move then, his fingers trailing softly down your mouth, a stark contrast to his usual forceful touch. They’re gentle, almost reverent, as if you were something delicate in his grasp.

You feel the faintest press of his lips again, this time on your neck, where his breath sends a wave of warmth across your skin. His lips trail lower, his kisses soft and careful, almost as though he’s rememorizing the shape of you, the way your body responds to his touch.

Your mind races, trying to process the tenderness, the way his hands glide over your body with such care. 

He’s checking you, almost methodically, like he’s making sure you’re okay, as if this entire moment is more about keeping you safe than playing any kind of game. It’s bewildering, disorienting, and just as you’re about to say something, you realize—it’s not just your arms and neck that he’s gently caressing.

He’s checking every inch of you, his hands roaming down your body with a soft, almost protective touch. When his fingers reach your ankles, you flinch slightly, but he’s too gentle, too careful. He slides your slippers off one by one, his movements so fluid you almost don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. He continues his exploration, his hands inching up to your legs, your sides, his lips grazing across your skin as he checks every part of you.

But then you feel it—your robe, the one you’d been wearing only moments ago—is gone. It’s not just slipped off, it’s completely vanished, and the realization hits you like a cold wave. ‘When did he…?’ You don’t even remember him removing it.

Panic surges for a fleeting moment, but the overwhelming gentleness of his touch leaves you frozen in place. The confusion only deepens as you feel him inspect you, feeling each shift and breath of your body, as if making sure everything is just right. His hands linger for a moment on your hips, giving a soft squeeze, before sliding back up your torso, every movement deliberate but tender.

His lips press another kiss to the side of your neck, and this time, there’s an almost loving quality to it—soft and warm, like a promise or reassurance. You finally manage to gather your thoughts, your voice barely a whisper when you ask, 

"Katsuki… What are you doing?"

His hands freeze on your skin for a brief moment, and you can almost feel the pause in him, the weight of your question. He pulls away slightly, enough to look at you, but his hands never leave your body. His gaze meets yours, and the softness in his eyes contrasts with the fierce intensity you’re used to.

“ ’m making sure you’re okay,” he answers, voice still gentle, but it carries a seriousness to it. 

You swallow hard, the conflicting sensations in your chest only growing. His usual fiery nature is subdued now, replaced by something softer, something you’ve never seen from him. His fingers run softly over the edge of your collarbone, a silent question hanging between you both.

And then it clicks—the tenderness, the way he’s inspecting every inch of you, the robe and slippers that vanished without you even noticing. He’s not just searching for a game to win anymore. This is something different, something deeper, and you're left unsure if you should be relieved or even more confused than before.

"Turn this way for me, Peaches."

And that’s when it hits you.

Your blood ran cold. Katsuki never, ever called you Peaches in a normal context. It was a nickname reserved for moments right before things got… nasty. The kind of nasty that involved a lot of heated touches and breathless whimpers. Your muscles seized, a full-body freeze that left you rigid as a statue. All the exhaustion from the gaming session vanished, replaced by a shy, anticipatory buzz that thrummed beneath your skin.

Your mind scrambled, trying to piece together the last few minutes.

When you didn't move, his frustration was palpable, even if it was masked by a layer of concern you couldn't quite place. He reached out, not violently, but with a surprising gentleness in his grip, his calloused fingers curving around your upper arm and turning you towards him. His touch sent a jolt that unthawed your frozen limbs.

His brow was furrowed slightly as he scanned me, his gaze lingering on your shoulders, your arms, your ribcage. The intensity in his eyes wasn't lustful, not yet— it was searching, concerned.

"You didn't hit the floor too hard, did you?" he finally asked, the gruffness in his voice softer than usual. "I saw you stumble." Your breath hitched. ‘You’ve been worried about me?’ You hadn't even noticed. Your mind had been so focused on the teasing nickname and its implications that I’d completely missed the genuine concern in his eyes.

"I… I'm fine," You stammered, the tension slowly releasing its grip, though a different kind of nervous anticipation still simmered within.

Katsuki didn't seem fully convinced, his crimson eyes narrowing as he continued to assess you with that sharp focus. Then, he did something unexpected. He reached out again, but this time, his hands didn't just grip your arms. They slid down your forearms, to my wrists, and then to your hands. He took them in his, his own calloused fingers engulfing your much smaller ones.

The warmth of his skin seared through the thin fabric of your flesh. It was a small gesture, but the intimacy of it sent a different kind of shiver down your spine this time. It was a shiver of warmth, of comfort, and a growing awareness that maybe, just maybe, Peaches could mean different things in different contexts, and Katsuki was far more simple than you gave him credit for.

The tension in the room is thick as Katsuki’s lips near, his body heat radiating from the shadows like a controlled storm. The moonlight spills softly through the balcony doors, casting gentle beams across the floor and bed, painting everything in silvery hues. The only other light comes from the low, moody glow of your vanity, creating a calm contrast to the intensity of his presence. His face stop right in front of you, but you keep your eyes closed, pretending to remain focused on your own breathing.

"Yer not foolin’ me, Peach," Katsuki growls softly, his voice warm with amusement. He dips down in front of you, just within reach. His hand slides slowly up your calf, brushing against your smooth skin, sending a ripple of electricity through your body. His fingers gently graze your legs, rubbing them tenderly as though savoring the feel of them under his touch.

"Ya know," he says, his tone low, "’m gonna learn how to do nails." He pauses, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your inner thigh as he leans in, soft lips brushing against the tender skin of your knee. 

“That way, ya never have ta go back to that damn salon with that shithead.”

His lips leave a gentle kiss on your knee before resting his warm cheek against it, eyes narrowing as he meets your gaze with that sharp, intense look of his. 

“You’re my wife now,” he murmurs, almost as if it’s a promise. 

“I’m gonna take care of you. Always.”

You let out a soft breath, the heat rising in your chest as his words sink in. There’s something about the way he’s holding you, not just physically but emotionally, that makes your heart race. Katsuki is possessive, protective, and you can feel it in every inch of his touch, every word he speaks.

His hands gently grip your legs as his lips travel slowly up, kissing his way higher and higher, each kiss deliberate and full of affection. Your eyes flutter open as his warm breath fans across your skin, a chill running through you only to be quickly washed away by his heat. He pauses for a moment when he reaches your knees, his lips brushing softly against the skin there before his voice rumbles out again, teasing, yet affectionate.

“‘s the matter, Peaches?”

"We both have work tomorrow," you murmur, the words almost slipping out before you can catch them. “We can’t—”

He cuts you off with a kiss to the top of your knee, lingering there just a little longer than necessary. "I own the agency with you, babe," he says against your skin, his breath hot and soothing, sending a tremor through your body. 

"I can make arrangements. I’ll always make arrangements for you."

Your body shivers under his touch, a mix of excitement and anticipation building with every passing second. His kisses are relentless, moving up your legs, up your thighs, and over the soft curve of your hips and stomach as he inches closer to your lips.

A small laugh escapes you, but it’s laced with affection and playfulness. "It’s gonna be cold tonight," you say, voice barely above a whisper. He grins against your breastbone, the corners of his lips curling upward. 

"I’ll warm you up," he promises. His lips are now against your voice box, trailing upward slowly, stopping just shy of your jawline as he waits for your next move. You hesitate for a moment, remembering your freshly blown out hair. 

"I just got my hair done..." you say softly, a small tinge of concern flicking across your thoughts.

Katsuki pauses, his movements stilling entirely as if he’s considering the possibility of ruining your new style. 

Then, without a word, he reaches up, his strong hands gently pulling the silk scarf from your head. Your hair spills around you like a fan, soft and flowing, a stunning contrast to the harshness of the world outside. He picks up a few strands of your blow-out, his fingers lightly running through them as his lips land on them, kissing the strands with a reverence that surprises you.

With a tender smile, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, the very roots of your hair, then moves down, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your eyes, nose, and finally stopping at your lips. His lips linger there for a second, his breath mingling with yours as he pulls away just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft, almost vulnerable.

“I know,” he murmurs, and before you can say another word, his lips are back on yours, firm and warm, as he pours everything he feels into the kiss. You melt into him, hands finding their way into his hair as you pull him closer. The world outside fades away as he deepens the kiss, kissing you like he can’t get enough, like this moment is something precious he wants to keep forever.

And you let him.

Katsuki’s kiss deepens as you respond with equal fervor, your bodies pressed close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. His hands trail down your sides, gripping your waist and pulling you closer, his mouth moving hungrily against yours as though he’s starved for this closeness.

The soft fabric of your tanktop shifts under his touch as he tugs it down slightly, exposing your skin to the cool air, only for him to warm it up instantly with his hands. His lips leave yours reluctantly, his breath ragged as he moves down your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive skin. His teeth graze the pulse point just below your ear, and you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of heat straight through your body.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," Katsuki growls, his hands sliding up your back to unclasp the delicate straps of your bra. The motion is slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring every inch of you. 

“Can’t believe yer all mine."

You shiver as the fabric of your bra falls away, exposing more of your skin to his touch. He kisses his way down your collarbone, his hands now skimming over your curves, feeling the heat of your body under his palms. He leans in, capturing one of your nipples between his lips. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, sending shivers down your spine.

"Mmm, yer so responsive," he murmurs, trailing kisses down your chest to tease the other nipple. He takes the now-hardened tip into his mouth, sucking gently as his hands trace shapes on your stomach and hips. His touch is electric, making you moan as you arch into him.

"Katsuki," you whimper, your head falling back against the bed. "You're killing me."

He chuckles darkly, flicking his tongue over the tight peak. "I haven't even started, Princess," he promises, moving to lick and nip his way lower.

Your breath hitches when his hands move lower, tracing the waistband of your booty shorts, fingers teasing the edge before sliding beneath them, his touch so light it sends a shock of pleasure through you.

Katsuki’s lips find yours again, the kiss urgent now, his tongue demanding as it moves with a fierce intensity. You can feel his pulse racing as your hands wander to his chest, your fingers sliding beneath his shirt to feel the heated muscle underneath.

His lips trail down once more, this time stopping just above the waistband of your little shorts. His eyes meet yours, burning with desire, before he presses another kiss to your stomach, his hands sliding down your legs to lift them over his shoulders.

"Is this what you want, baby?" Katsuki asks, his voice low and rough, filled with promise. His lips graze your inner thighs as he waits for your answer, teasing, giving you just enough space to feel the need intensify.

"Say it," he demands softly, his voice a seductive growl. "Tell me you want me."

“I want you.”

“Good girl.”

You let out a soft gasp as Katsuki's hands slide up your thighs, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. With a quick tug, he pulls them down, exposing your lacy panties to his hungry gaze. He leans in, pressing a hot kiss to your clothed sex before pulling back with a smirk.

"Mmm, you're already so wet for me, aren't you?" he purrs, his fingers tracing the damp fabric. "I bet you've been thinking about this all night, haven't you? About what I'd do to you if I caught you?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you nod, biting your lip. Katsuki chuckles, low and deep, as he slowly slides your panties down your legs. You lift your hips to help him, your heart racing as he tosses them aside.

"Fuck, look at you," he growls, his eyes roaming over your naked form. "So perfect, so fucking sexy. I'm going to make you regret running from me."

He leans down, capturing one of your nipples between his lips. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand slides between your legs. His fingers tease your entrance, dipping in just slightly before pulling back.

"Beg for it," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please," you whimper, arching into his touch. "Please, Katsuki, I need you. I need your cock inside me."

"That's my good girl," he praises, sliding two fingers deep inside your aching pussy. "Fuck, you're so tight. I can't wait to stretch you out on my cock."

He pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit. Your hips buck against his hand, desperate for more, as he works you closer and closer to the edge. His hands slide underneath your body, pushing your legs further apart as he kneels between them. He takes a long look at your pussy, still wet from their earlier encounter, before leaning in and running his tongue along your slit.

"Mmm, so tasty," he murmurs, lapping at your juices like a starving man. "I could drink you from here to the next life."

His tongue circles your clit, making you gasp and squirm. Katsuki chuckles, one hand reaching up to cup your breast as he continues his slow assault. His other hand slides between your legs, spreading your folds wider for better access.

"So fucking ready for me," he purrs, rubbing his thumb over your sensitive nub. " 'm going to make you regret being a brat."

And with that, he dives in, licking and sucking your throbbing clit as his thumb presses deep into your cunt. Your hips buck off the bed, desperate for more as your moans fill the room.

"Fuck, Katsuki," you cry out, arching into his touch. "Don't stop."

But he does, pulling away with a smirk. "Not this time," he says simply, standing up and tugging off his clothes.

How could you refuse that?

He's magnificent, his well-toned body glistening with sweat and covered in the evidence of your arousal. You trace your fingers over his chest, your breath catching as he sucks in a sharp breath.

His chiseled physique, a testament to countless hours of training, was on full display, each contour accentuated by the soft light. His skin glowed, a perfect canvas that drew your eyes to the powerful muscles flexing as he moved. He was a force of nature—fiery and captivating.

You couldn’t help but admire the way his tousled hair fell over his forehead, framing those sharp, penetrating eyes that held a mixture of confidence and mischief. He caught you staring, a smirk playing on his lips, the corners curling just enough to send a thrill down your spine.

"You like what you see?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

You nod eagerly, your fingers trailing down his abs and lower. Katsuki lets out a shaky breath, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. With a sultry smile, you lean back against the bed on all fours, every inch of you drawn towards him. 

“Just appreciating the view,” you replied, letting your voice drip with flirtation. The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken desires as he stepped forward, closing the distance.

“Yeah? Think you can handle all this?” he challenged, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his warmth. The heat of his body was intoxicating, igniting a fire deep within you. You could feel the power of him—bold, unyielding, yet protective.

“Only if you let me,” you whispered, your hands inches from his member, hearts racing in synchronized rhythm. But he holds you down. You whimper, trying to push back onto him, but his strong grip holds you steady. 

"Not yet," he murmurs, his hands gripping your wrists. "Lemme enjoy this."

As the tension simmered in the air, Katsuki’s smirk turned playful yet wicked. In one swift motion, he reached around, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand connected with your ass, a sharp slap that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

“Didn’t expect that, did ya?” he chuckled, his voice low and teasing, clearly reveling in the reaction he’d provoked. The sting was both shocking and exhilarating, igniting a fiery rush of desire that pooled deep within you.

Before you could respond, he pulled you closer, flush against his yummy abs, his hands exploring the curves of your back with undeniable confidence. With a deft hand, he slipped beneath your left cheek, fingers brushing against your most sensitive spots. You gasped, the sensation sending shivers down your spine as he found the sweet spot between your folds that made your breath hitch.

Katsuki’s fingers moved with purpose, teasing and exploring, building a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure cascading through you. “Ya like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he worked his magic, pushing you closer to the edge.

You could feel your body responding to his every touch, a delicious mix of desire and lust coursing through your veins. “More,” you managed to gasp, craving every ounce of his attention.

The way he dominated the moment, fully in control yet so attuned to your needs, made your heart race. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, whispering promises of pleasure as his fingers continued their tantalizing dance.

"Peaches," he growls, his voice low and rough. "You haven't come for me yet."

He slaps your ass, hard enough to sting, and you cry out. "Please, Katsuki," you beg, your body aching for his release. "Need it."

He laughs, a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. "You'll have it," he promises, "but first, you're going to feel me inside you."

You could feel every taut muscle of Katsuki’s abs pressed against you, his warmth enveloping you completely. The way he moved, fingers dancing expertly, sent shivers cascading down your spine and ignited a fire deep within you. Each thrust of his fingers felt like a direct connection to your very core, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Your hands roamed over his bare hips, tracing the rugged contours, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. The sensation of gripping him, holding onto the solid strength beneath your fingers, made your pulse race with excitement. You could sense the power he exuded, a blend of raw masculinity and confidence that only fueled your desire further.

As he continued to work his magic, you pressed your body closer into him, feeling the rhythm of his movements sync with the rapid beat of your heart. Each curl of his fingers coaxed delicious sounds from your lips, soft gasps and breathy moans that hung heavily in the air. You were lost in a haze of pleasure, the world around you fading away, leaving just the two of you in this electrifying moment.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent another surge of heat coursing through you. His breath was warm against your hair, adding to the intoxicating frenzy building inside you.

You could feel the tightening coil of pleasure building within, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. “Kats..,” you whimpered, unable to contain the need that bubbled within you. Your fingers dug deeper into his hips, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going, to take you higher.

He responded with a fierce intensity, his fingers moving faster, deeper—each thrust igniting a new spark of ecstasy that left you gasping for more. The way he controlled the pace, teasing just enough while driving you wild, was maddeningly exquisite.

“Let go,” he urged, his voice a sultry whisper that resonated in your very being. You surrendered completely, giving yourself over to the waves of pleasure that washed over you, losing yourself in the blissful connection between your bodies. "That's it, baby," he coos, his lips trailing down to your ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you come apart on my fingers."

His words push you over the edge, and you cry out, your pussy clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you through your orgasm until you're boneless and spent.

"Fuck, that was cute," he growls, pulling his fingers from your dripping cunt. "But we're not done yet. I'm going to make you scream my name all night long."

He stands, quickly shedding the covers before grabbing your hips and flipping you over onto your hands and knees. You look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes widening as you take in his massive cock.

"K-Katsuki," you breathe, your pussy already throbbing with need again. "Please..."

"Shh," he soothes, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds. "I've got you, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

And with that, he slams into you, filling you up in one hard thrust. You cry out, your hands fisting in the sheets as he starts to move, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes.

"Yes, fuck!" you moan, pushing back against him. "Harder, Katsuki! Fuck me harder!"

He obliges, his hips snapping against your ass as he fucks you with wild abandon. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his grunts mixing together in a filthy symphony.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," he groans, one hand reaching around to rub your clit. "So fucking tight and wet. You were made for my cock, weren't you?"

"Yes!" you cry out, feeling another orgasm building already. "Only yours, ‘tsuki! I'm yours!"

"That's right, baby," he growls, his thrusts getting harder, faster. "This pussy belongs to me. Now come for me one more time. Milk my fucking cock." His words send you spiraling over the edge once more, and you scream his name as you come, your pussy spasming around him. Katsuki follows shortly after, burying himself deep as he fills you with his hot seed.

You both collapse onto the bed, panting and sweaty, as the aftershocks of pleasure fade away. Katsuki pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your curves. "But don't think we're done yet. I'm going to keep you up all night, making you pay for running from me."

You shiver at his words, already feeling the heat building in your core once more. With Katsuki, you know it's going to be a long, fucking night. You try to pull away, your arms trembling as Katsuki holds you in place. 

"N-no, please," you beg, your voice hoarse from screaming his name. "I can't take anymore. 'S so much."

But Katsuki just chuckles darkly, his grip tightening on your hips. "Too bad, Peach," he growls, his cock still buried deep inside you. "You're not going anywhere until I say so. And I'm far from done with this tight little pussy." He starts to move again, his thrusts slow and deep, as if he has all the time in the world. Your body responds instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet his, even as your muscles protest.

"Fuck, look at you," Katsuki purrs, one hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair. He pulls your head back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth. "So desperate for my cock, even when you're begging me to stop."

He bites down on your neck, marking you as his as he fucks you harder, faster. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans mixing with his grunts.

"I'm going to ruin you," he promises, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll never want anyone else. You’re all mine, mind, body and soul." 

His words send a shiver down your spine, even as a part of you recoils at the thought of belonging to anyone. But it's hard to think straight with Katsuki pounding into you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

"Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. "I want it..."

"That's it, baby," he praises, his thrusts getting harder, faster. "Beg for me. Beg me to fucking ruin you."

You do, your voice rising in pitch as the pleasure builds and builds. Just as you're about to come undone, Katsuki pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"W-what?" you gasp, looking back at him with wide eyes. "Why did you stop?"

He smirks, flipping you onto your back and settling between your legs. "Because I said so," he growls, his hands pinning your wrists above your stomach. 

"And because I want to watch you fall apart for me."

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing your clit before sucking it into his mouth. You arch off the bed, crying out at the sudden sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Fuck, yes," Katsuki groans, his eyes locked on yours as he eats you out. "Come for me, baby. Let me taste you."

His tongue is relentless, teasing and stroking your most sensitive spots until you're shaking and writhing beneath him. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you with his tongue through the aftershocks until you're boneless and spent. Then, finally, he climbs up your body, his cock sliding home once more.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "But we're not done yet, Peaches. Not by a long shot."

And with that, he starts to move again, fucking you into the mattress with deep, powerful strokes. You cling to him, your nails raking down his back as you meet him thrust for thrust. It's hard to imagine anything feeling better than this— Katsuki above you, surrounding you, claiming you as his own. But as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, you know that there's no going back.

He's going to ruin you, just like he promised. 

And God help you, but you don't want it any other way.

Katsuki pulls away, leaving you cold and aching on the bed. He stands over you, his eyes dark with desire and something else— a hunger that makes your blood run hot.

"You've been a bad girl, haven't you?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "Running from me, teasing me all night. You need to be punished."

He reaches out, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the edge of the bed. You gasp, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he flips you over, bending you over his knee.

"Count," he commands, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack. "And if you stop, we start over." You cry out, your body jolting at the sudden impact. But you quickly remember yourself, gritting out a shaky, 

"One!"

Katsuki smacks your ass again, harder this time. You count off another, your voice rising in pitch as the heat builds on your skin. He spanks you over and over, each blow landing on a different spot until your entire ass is blushing and stinging.

"Please," you whimper, tears streaming down your face. "It hurts."

" 'S supposed to," Katsuki says simply, his hand rubbing circles on your sore flesh. "You need to learn your lesson, bunny. You're mine, and you don't get to run from me." He flips you over again, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them apart. You whine, trying to close your legs, but he's too strong.

"No," he growls, holding you open. "You don't get to hide from me. I want to see every inch of you."

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing your slit before diving in deep. You cry out, your hips bucking against his face as he eats you out like a man starved.

"F-Fuck, you taste so good," he groans, his eyes locked on yours as he laps at your juices. "I could do this forever." He brings you to the edge, his tongue teasing your clit, before pulling back at the last second. You keen in frustration, your hands fisting in his hair.

"Please," you beg, your voice ragged. "I wanna cum."

"Beg for it," Katsuki demands, his breath hot against your sex. "Beg me to let you cum on my tongue."

You do, your words tumbling out in a rush as you plead for release. Finally, mercifully, he grants it, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you with his tongue through the aftershocks until you're boneless and spent.

But he's not done with you yet. He flips you over once more, his cock sliding in with one hard thrust. You cry out, your body still sensitive from your last orgasm, as he starts to move.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his hips snapping against your ass. "So tight and wet and perfect."

He fucks you hard and fast, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans mixing with his grunts.

"You're mine," he growls, one hand sliding up your spine to grip your hair. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasp, your voice breathless with pleasure. "All yours, Katsuki."

"That's right," he praises, his thrusts getting harder, faster. "And I'm going to fucking own you. You'll never want anyone else, ever again."

His words send a shiver down your spine, even as a part of you recoils at the thought of belonging to anyone. But it's hard to think straight with Katsuki pounding into you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. You whimper, your hands scrabbling at the sheets. 

"I can't...I can't take anymore!"

But Katsuki just chuckles darkly, his grip on your hair tightening. "Oh, I think you can," he purrs, his voice rough with desire. "And you will. I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, until the only thing you remember is my name." And with that, he starts to move faster, harder, fucking you into the mattress with deep, powerful strokes. Your body responds instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet his as the pleasure builds and builds. His left hand finds your own and threads your fingers together before his thumb rubbing and pressing into that spot on your hand. Call you crazy for focusing on that, but it only adds to the crazy pleasure ringing out in your body. 

Just as you're about to come undone, Katsuki pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting. You whine in protest, your body aching for his touch.

"Kat," you gasp, looking back at him with wide eyes. "Why’d you stop?"

He smirks, flipping you onto your back and settling between your legs. "Because I said so," he growls, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. 

"And because I want to watch you fall apart for me."

He lowers his head, his tongue tracing your clit before sucking it into his mouth. You arch off the bed, crying out at the sudden sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Fuck, yes," Katsuki groans, his eyes locked on yours as he eats you out. "Come for me, baby. Let me taste you. Never gettin’ tired of my fucking pussy."

His tongue is relentless, teasing and stroking your most sensitive spots until you're shaking and writhing beneath him. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you with his tongue through the aftershocks until you're boneless and spent. Then, finally, he climbs up your body, his cock sliding over your sensitive folds once more.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours. "But we made a deal."

And with that, he starts to move again, fucking you into the mattress with deep, powerful strokes. You cling to him, your nails raking down his back as you meet him thrust for thrust. It's hard to imagine anything feeling better than this— your husband above you, surrounding you, claiming you as his own. As he brings you closer and closer to the edge, you know that there's no going back. You’d never want another. 

Katsuki holds you down on the bed, his weight pinning you in place as his cock slides in and out of your dripping pussy. You arch your back, trying to take him deeper, but he just chuckles darkly.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he purrs, his breath hot against your ear. "Always so desperate for my cock." You whimper in response, your body aching for more. But Katsuki just pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"Ahh!" you cry out, reaching for him. "Fuck you!"

He smirks, slapping your hand away. "Not yet, baby. You haven't earned it."

He flips you over onto your stomach, your face pressed into the mattress. You feel his hands on your ass, kneading the soft flesh, before he brings his palm down with a sharp smack. Katsuki loves the way the globe ripples, he could watch it all fucking day. You yelp, your body jolting at the impact. But before you can catch your breath, he spanks you again, harder this time.

"Get ready," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "’m gonna tear this ass up."

You count off each blow, your voice rising in pitch as the heat builds on your skin. You gasp and squeal as you feel his teeth meet your soft flesh while he plays with it. Squishing, squeezing, making it bounce in whatever direction makes his dick happy. Your round ass is pulsing by the time he's done, but you feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Please Daddy," you beg, your hips bucking back against him. "I want it."

And it almost works, the motion of your cute ass sending a hungry twitch straight to his cock. 

Almost. 

"Not yet," Katsuki says simply, trailing his fingers down your spine. "I want to play with this tight little ass first." You feel his fingers probing at your back entrance, and you clench instinctively. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your stinging flesh.

"Relax, baby," he coos, his voice suddenly gentle. "I'll make it feel good, I promise."

He works a finger inside you, slowly, gently, until you're pushing back against him. Then he adds another, scissoring them inside you as you moan and writhe beneath him. "Fuck, you're so tight," Katsuki groans, his breath coming faster. "I can't wait to feel this tight ass around my cock."

He pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty and aching. You hear the sound of a bottle popping open, and then his slick fingers are back, working your asshole open.

"I'm going to fuck this ass," he promises, his voice rough with desire. "And you're going to take it like my good little slut."

You whimper at his words, your body both terrified and excited by the prospect. But before you can respond, he's pushing inside you, his cock stretching you wide. You cry out, your hands fisting in the sheets as he starts to move. It's a slow, steady pace at first, but it quickly builds to something harder, faster.

"Fuck, yes," Katsuki groans, his hips snapping against your ass. "Take it, baby. Take my fucking cock." Your body responds instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet his as the pleasure builds and builds. Just as you're about to come undone, he pulls out, leaving you empty and wanting once more.

"No," you gasp, looking back at him with wide eyes. "Why?"

He smirks, flipping you over onto your back. "Because I wanted to see your face when I fuck this ass," he growls, lining himself up with your entrance. Katsuki pushes back inside you, his cock sliding deep as you cry out in pleasure. He starts to move again, fucking you hard and fast as he pins you down with one hand on your lower back.

"Fuck, I love this ass," he groans, his hips slapping against your reddened flesh. "I'm going to fucking ruin it."

You can only moan in response, your body shaking with pleasure as he pounds into you. Just as you're about to come, he pulls out once more. Katsuki pushes your knees up to your chest, spreading you wide open as he slides back inside your dripping pussy. You arch off the bed, crying out at the sudden sensation.

"Fuck, look at you," he groans, his eyes locked on yours as he starts to move. "So fucking needy and sensative. So perfect, all fucking mine."

You can only nod in response, your body his for the taking. He fucks you hard and fast, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. Katsuki leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he grinds against your clit with each thrust. "Come for me, Peaches," he purrs, his voice rough with desire. 

"Let me feel you come on my fucking cock."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki doesn't let up, fucking you through the aftershocks until he's buried deep and pulsing inside you.

"Damn," he groans, his forehead pressed against yours. "You're mine now, baby. All mine."

You can only nod in response, your body spent and satisfied. And as he pulls out, you know that there's no going back. You belong to Katsuki.

Restless, Katsuki pushes you onto your knees, his hand fisting in your hair as he guides your face towards his hardening cock. "Open up, slave," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you want to please your Master."

You obediently part your lips, your pretty pink tongue darting out to lick the head of his cock as he slaps it against your cheeks. You moan at the taste of him, your pussy already dripping with need.

"That's it, good girl," Katsuki praises, pushing his length past your lips. "Take it all like a good little fuck toy." You relax your throat, letting him slide in deeper as your hands grip his thighs. He starts to thrust, fucking your face with long, deep strokes that make you gag and choke around him.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he groans, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you struggle to take him. "I'm going to use all your holes tonight, slave. Your mouth, your cunt, your ass. They all belong to me."

You whimper around his cock, the thought of being used so thoroughly making your body ache with need. Katsuki pulls out, slapping your face with his slick shaft.

"Crawl to the pillows," he orders, releasing your hair. "On your hands and knees, ass in the air. I want to see that pretty little pussy dripping for me."

You scramble to obey, presenting yourself to him like the submissive slut you are. Katsuki climbs onto the bed behind you, spreading your cheeks wide as he licks a stripe up your dripping slit.

"Mmm, so wet," he purrs, his fingers circling your clit. "So desperate for my cock. Tell me how much you need it, slave."

"I need it, Master," you whimper, pushing your hips back against his face. "Please, I need your big cock stretching me open. I need you to fuck me hard and make me scream." Katsuki chuckles darkly, pressing a finger into your aching hole. "Nasty little Peach," he scolds, pumping his digit in and out. "You'll get what I give you when I give it to you and you’ll love it."

He removes his finger, leaving you empty and wanting. Then, without warning, he slams his cock into you, burying himself to the hilt in one hard thrust. You scream out, your body jolting at the sudden intrusion. Katsuki doesn't give you time to adjust, pounding into you with brutal force as his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Yes, fuck!" you scream, your pussy clenching around him as he rails you into the mattress. "Harder, Daddy! Use me harder!"

Katsuki obliges, snarling as he hammers into you with wild abandon. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans and his grunts mixing together in a filthy symphony.

"You're mine," he growls, one hand fisting in your hair and pulling your head back. "This pussy belongs to me. Say it."

"It's yours, Master," you sob, your body shaking with pleasure as he fucks you within an inch of your life. "All yours! Please, don't stop!"

Katsuki laughs darkly, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. "I'll stop when I'm fucking done with you," he promises, pounding into you even harder. "And trust me, bunny, we're far from done."

He keeps fucking you like a beast in rut, using your body for his own pleasure as you writhe and moan beneath him. Just as you're about to come undone, he pulls out, flipping you onto your back.

"Suck my cock," he commands, straddling your face and pressing the head of his shaft against your lips. "Get it nice and wet for that tight little G-spot of yours."

You obediently part your lips, taking him into your mouth as you suck and slurp around him. Katsuki groans above you, his hips rocking as he fucks your face.

"That's it, Peach," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure. "Get it ready for me."

He pulls out, wiping your spit off his cock before lifting your legs over his shoulders. You feel the blunt head of his shaft pressing against your asshole, and you tense instinctively.

"Relax," Katsuki soothes, rubbing circles on your lower back. "Let me in, slave. Let me claim this pussy." You take a deep breath, forcing your muscles to relax as he slowly sinks into you. It burns, stretching you wide open, but the pain quickly morphs into pleasure as he starts to move.

"Fuck, so tight," Katsuki groans, his eyes locked on yours as he eases in and out. "I could live in this pussy, baby. I'm going to fucking ruin it."

He picks up the pace, pounding into you with deep, hard thrusts that make you see stars. Your body responds instinctively, clenching around him as you moan and whimper beneath him.

"Yes, Katsuki!" you scream, your nails raking down his back. "Harder! Fuck me harder!"

Katsuki complies, his hips snapping against yours as he uses your hole like a vice. He leans down, capturing your lips in a brutal kiss as he fucks you into oblivion.

"That's my good little fuck toy," he praises between kisses, his voice rough with desire. "Taking my dick so well. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to be used and filled and fucked until you can't think straight."

You can only nod in response, your body shaking with the force of your impending orgasm. Katsuki feels it too, his thrusts getting harder, faster as he chases his own release.

"Cum for me," he demands, reaching between your bodies to rub hot tight circles around your clit. "Cum on my fucking cock like the desperate little slut you are."

Your final orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your vision whiting out as you scream his name. Katsuki follows shortly after looking into your eyes, burying himself deep and pulsing inside you as he fills you with his hot seed. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting and spent. But even in the afterglow, Katsuki's grip on you never loosens.

"Mine," he growls possessively, nuzzling into your neck. "All fucking mine."

The two of you finally stop, breathless and glowing with happiness. Katsuki tugs you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a protective warmth. He gently nuzzles against your cheek before pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and laced with concern.

You nod, a giggle bubbling up as you snuggle into his neck. His hands trail over your body in comforting strokes, a loving rhythm that makes you feel cherished. "I'll take you to get your hair fixed tomorrow," he murmurs, a small smile playing on his lips. "But I still think it looks nice. Even when you're all sweaty and fucked out." A teasing glint sparkles in your eyes as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. 

"You're such a good husband, Suki. Makes me wonder what you'd be like as a dad," you tease, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.

Katsuki's eyes darken with a mischievous glint, and before you know it, you're on your back again, your knees draped over his shoulders. His grin is wicked, but his touch is filled with adoration. 

“What—!”

"Ya know somethin’? I wouldn’ be a good husband ‘less I gave in to all of my wife’s wishes," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. 

"So have it yer way, my love."

SO this was my first time writing a full length smut. How'd I do?

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

My requests are free and open.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz,

Master lists in question: Katsuki's Sugar baby, Katsuki's Ex who secretly had is baby

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more Katsuki, Aizawa, and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too.

You can also tip me a coffee if you want. (Just made it, so excited! \(≧▽≦)/ <33)

Remember: Comments and lives, they really help. Don't be afraid to leave me a sexy little reblog too.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

[solbaby7]

Calypso

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, angst, possible typos, violence

[ part 1 ]

—

Your family was hovering.

Exchanging worried looks amongst eachother as they partook in a mental conversation that you weren’t invited to but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The power inside of you had seemed to be asleep; tucked within the warmth of your vessel as you shuffled closer to Azriel.

His shadows were everywhere, pressing against every inch of available skin not only as a comfort but to shield your state from wandering eyes. Azriel knew his brothers meant no harm but his spine stiffened just a bit more when he’d catch them searching for injuries—as if some sort of explaination would be branded into your flesh.

He understood—really, he did.

Everyone wanted to know how you’d survived.

How you’d been hiding such power away for so long undetected.

But he couldn’t find the courage to ask any questions; too afraid he’d have to come to the horrifying realization that he’d almost lost you.

No. Azriel had lost you and yet some divine intervention had taken place, gifting him a second chance. His stomach plummets at the thought, shadows tightening their grip on you; tugging you in as close as you could get and still it didn’t feel close enough. “I’m right here,” You mutter just loud enough for your voice to break through the noise beginning to grow inside Azriel’s mind. A hand covers his own, a gentle squeeze to reiterate the words spoken but he can’t help but notice how cold your skin is.

You hesitate before crossing Autumn’s border, sparing a glance behind you when the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, alerting you of a lingering presence. A brow raises, lids narrowing a fraction before the comforting darkness of Azriel’s shadows began to weave its web, calling you back home where you belonged. “I’ll find you,” A voice croons so whisper soft that you struggle to decipher if it was real or just a figment of your imagination. “You have my word.”

Protective instincts force you to answer the voice, nerves still raw from earlier and the rage refused to fully subside. “I’ll kill you. You have my word.”

—

The sterile stench of disinfectant burns. The walls are too white and everyone in it is entirely too quiet as they watch Madja work on you.

Sure hands run over the length of you, her powers searching for something wrong and yet after a thorough assessment—all she can offer the High Lord is, “Physically, she’s perfectly healthy.”

“You’re sure? Beron said that she—“ Rhys pauses briefly, painfully aware of Azriel’s eyes digging craters into the side of his face and he becomes more careful when he speaks. “You’re sure?”

“There’s not a scratch on her.” Madja shifts about the room, putting away equipment and removing sanitary gloves into the waste bin when she continues speaking. “I will say, her body is in a state of fight or flight. It appears as though her gifts are taking on new and unexpected manifestations—it’s morphed into some sort of defense mechanism that surpasses anything I’ve ever seen before. I couldn’t even get a needle to break through to draw her blood.”

You let out a humorless laugh, slouching further into the examination chair. “Seems a little late for that.”

Madja turns to face you, the picture of professionalism when she says your name gently. “How do you feel?”

“I feel…” Like you were still underwater. Like your body was still not your own, tainted by malice and such uncontainable anger. Shaky fingers curl into the fabric of Azriel’s cloak draped over your shoulders—the only anchor that seemed to keep the sensitive magic at bay. “Charged.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. You’ve been through a lot and that could just be a side affect of the adrenaline wearing off.” Madja shifts in place, intentionally ignoring the surveilling eye of your mate tracking her every move—monitoring her every word like his life depended on it. “Can you tell me about what happened? Do you remember anything?”

Azriel bristles when your spine goes ramrod straight, subconsciously tucking the cloak closer to your body. “Nothing’s wrong with my head if that’s what you’re getting at. My memories are intact.”

“That’s good to hear,” Madja nods placatingly, fingers interlocking before her to seem less threatening and more comforting. “I was worried about possible brain damage which is consistent with drowning,” Your jaw clenches, a thick swallow rolling down your throat. “Lung damage as well but your breathing sounded clear and equal and there’s no obvious signs of residual deficits. I’d like to run just a few more tests, if that’s okay?”

A sharp nod of your head is the only answer you provide but when the door opens and one of Madja’s assistants is beckoned to come inside, the entirety of your body language changes.

Azriel feels his own hackles raise as you surveil the newcomer with a hunters eye. “This is August,” Madja introduces swiftly, moving the lean male to the left and its second nature the way he flits about her; retrieving paperwork to neatly arrange back in its folder. “He’s here because I’d like to see if your magic is just blocking me out—or everyone.”

Rhysand shifts in place as he watches you and the way you refuse to answer, utterly fixated on August and the nervous tremble of his fingers when he stands a bit too close. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine,” Madja assures, standing right before you with her hands hovering at both sides of your head. “I have theory, I just need to try something first.” Everything seems to be going just as planned, the familiar push of healing magic creating a gentle pressure at the edges of your consciousness as it seeks out an injury to fix.

It’s almost soothing, enough to have your eyes fluttering shut and the rigid line of your spine starts to relax when a foreign touch is detected.

The reaction is immediate and completely involuntary. Madja is shoved out of your way as a gust of power projects from your form like a wave; providing the room necessary to pounce on August like a leapord who’d been stalking their prey and finally found the right moment. It’s borderline feral the way you snap at him, pinning his arms under your knees to ensure he couldn’t touch.

“Just as I suspected,” Madja doesn’t appear the slightest bit phased, quietly thanking Rhysand for breaking her fall.

Azriel’s reaction is less tame, his features clouded in shadows when he retrieves you, all the fight dissipating the second a fair distance is established. “Are you out of your mind? She could’ve killed him.”

“But, she didn’t,” Madja murmurs, scribbling words on a page while August dusts himself off. There’s no real damage to either of them but the intensity of your retaliation is enough to have Cassian and Rhysand creeping closer cautiously. “I suspect that her magic has gone on the defensive, almost as if it’s its own sentient being protecting its host. She sustained a trauma which pushed it to the forefront of her mind—taking the reins in a sense.” Madja looks up from her notes, curiosity shining in her eye when she examines you from afar. “It’s protecting her from anything it doesn’t deem safe.”

“Anything it doesn’t deem safe?” Cassian repeats, the hairs from his bun falling free and teasing at the stubble of his jaw. “That’s vague.”

“That’s besides the point,” Rhysand quickly averts, only stepping as close to you as Azriel will allow. There’s a softness to his expression, one that appears almost shy when directed your way. “This doesn’t sound anything like the power you’ve showed before. So, I have to ask if something else happened there—in Autumn?”

The examination room reeks of antiseptic but the low hues of the faintly glowing faelight is comforting enough. Either way, you can’t help the way your eyes flick to Madja and August but they too are soon ushered away the moment Azriel notices.

You gulp audibly, fingers fiddling in your lap as the tense posture you previously wore fades altogether. “I wasn’t lying when I said my memory is intact. Completely intact.” A shaky breath is inhaled, toes wiggling in the compression socks Madja had all but forced Azriel to shove on your feet the moment you’d stepped an inch within the doors. “I remember dying. But, I also remember someone else being there, a female who felt me and brought me back.”

“Brought you back how?”

Your eyes lock on your mate; the physical embodiment of strength and that alone encourages you to scrounge up the courage to continue. “She heard me somehow—I was screaming for help and she heard me and right when I thought it was too late, I felt this…surge.”

Rhys’ lids lower into a squint. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it was just a feeling.” It’s difficult describing the exact sensation that had flowed through you, coating every limb in a caress that wasn’t quite caring. It edged the border of possessive when sealing up your broken pieces. “As if I’d been given more.”

Cassian’s head tilts to the side, arms crossed over his chest while he takes it upon himself to guard the door. “More power?” His brows scrunch in thought. “I guess that could explain what happened once we found you.”

“She did something to me out there,” You confess, staring at your hands as if the answers would somehow be deciphered within the lines of your palms. “My magic feels different inside me—like it’s changed.”

“Show me.” Rhysand demands without question, ignoring the low growl his brother releases, displeasure clear at the tone of his voice.

There’s a pause, slowly bringing your eyes to your High Lord. A shaky breath is released, hands wringing out stress as you lean into the warmth of Azriel behind you. “Respectfully, no.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’d never disobey a direct order so please don’t make me.” The struggle in your words is evident, limbs trembling as you strain to grab ahold of the leash within you. To wrap it around your fist and command the reigns but the leather fits differently than it did before, the aches and pains from such a growth spurt is thoroughly uncomfortable. “The answer is no. I’m not in control.”

Azriel’s gaze snaps down to you with an intensity you’re eager to avoid. “You’re sure?”

You shuffle under all the attention, desperate for a bath and a glass—no, pitcher of wine to drown out the buzzing beneath your skin. It felt too tight over your flesh; stretched thin and rubbed raw as the entity beneath acclimates to its new enclosure.

It makes it hard to breathe properly, each exhale just as sharp as your inhale. “Positive.”

—

The most fascinating thing about trauma, is the way it disperses throughout the body; it lingers in your tissues—saturates your bloodstream until your entire chemical makeup shifts.

It leaves a brand.

One that has your spine stiff with tension at something as normal as Cassian and Rhysand walking behind you. Before, it’d be comforting—their presence straying a few steps behind. But your ears keep fixating on the sound of Cassian’s sword shifting against its leather holster. Heavy boots crushing fallen branches and crispy leaves. Normal, mundane things that now have your heart smacking against your ribcage, palms sweating and instincts on overdrive with nowhere to release the accumulated adrenaline.

Suddenly, you’re grateful that there’s no way to directly winnow back home, greedily sucking up as much fresh air as possible in attempts to soothe the way your belly churns. The anxiety refuses to subside no matter how many calming breaths you take. Your chest begins to heave, the wind whistling white noise against sensitive eardrums and regardless of the steps you count, you remain uncomfortably aware of your stress.

“You okay?” Az prods, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Your grip on his bicep tightens, dread building in your gut with each passing moment until you’re physically unable to move another inch closer to the townhouse. “I can’t go home.” It’s said as more of a confession than anything else, drawing the attention of the two guarding your flank. “It’s not safe.”

Guilt riddles his features for a split second before it’s shadowed by something akin to determination. “I will never let anything happen to you ever again.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” You swallow thickly, sweat beading at your hairline with the effort it takes to shove that overwhelming power down into its box. Even then the lid refuses to close, the entity within banging against the walls and thrashing its fists for release. “I’m saying, you won’t be safe there with me.”

[specialgradefckr]

The Strongest Feminist

tw: explicit content. satoru/reader. toxic frat boy cultures, misogyny, shitty behavior in general, non-consensual filming, stalking. satoru is a hilarious mixture of oblivious, in denial, insecure, and stupid fuckboy lmao.

Part Two of Fuckboy Gojo

fuckboy satoru gojo who doesn't know what to do.

sure, you talk to him all the time. you're "friends" - acquaintances, more like - but you don't really know each other.

not like how he knows you. knows what you look like naked, how cute your little pussy is (and that you wax. the asshole in the chat gloated about how he convinced you to do that before fucking you. said it was weird for a girl to have hair down there), how awful your taste in men is.

and also how cute you are when you laugh, how you have a surprising sense of humor and a passion for your major, for reading and writing and your face scrunches up when you concentrate just like it did when you cum -

okay. okay, okay, if he keeps thinking about that he's gonna go crazy. the point is, he knows you. he knows you real well.

but he's not sure you know him.

maybe you're too polite to ask. it's common knowledge the crowd he runs with, that he's a frat boy and all around man whore.

you never seemed to look at him different afterwards. even though you dated (fucked) one, yourself, and that guy treated you like shit and oh god do you think he's like that? you don't think satoru would treat you like that, right?

that's not the reason you haven't asked him out yet, or flirted with him. you don't think he's like that asshole, right???

you don't know anything about the group chat or their score cards (virgins worth ten points. god, it was gross, actually, wasn't it?) or the stuff satoru used to do with dumb girls who thought he actually liked them-

but he wouldn't do that to you! no way! you're sweet and friendly and you look at him with this sparkle in your eyes and everything! you don't deserve to be treated like that!

satoru gojo who finds himself hoping you haven't heard anything about him. who slips in mentions in conversation that there's lots of rumors out there about him - lots of jealous people of both genders. he gets a lot of attention, you see.

you don't tell him what you've heard, but you seem to take his words at face value. smiling, reassuring him, telling him he's been nothing but kind to you -

(he still jerks off to that video of you. every night now. sometimes twice a day.)

-and that's good, but it's not enough.

something must be stopping you from seeing him as an option. even though he's complained to you once or twice about being single.

he knows you're single. asked around - people will tell him anything and everything. it's gross, actually. he hates gossip. people have always talked about him, and now, it's getting in the way of his relationship with you.

he's getting more and more disgusted by the shit they say, they used to do, in that chat. in that friend group.

he doesn't want to stay, but what if they upload anything else about you? what about what they've done already?

satoru gojo who becomes a women's studies major - that's how disgusted he is. how removed he is from his previous attitudes.

he's not like how he was before. he's not like them. he cares, now. about women, about you.

it's like penance, in a way. his good deeds, making up for all the times he wronged those other girls. he reads about feminist literature, about emotional labor and mental loads and even sexual stereotypes.

man. women have it tough. it makes him feel bad, sends a churning in his gut, that you have to deal with stuff like this - being paid less, taken less seriously, always having to do more work in the relationship than their male counterparts.

if he were with you he'd never let it be like that. satoru would treat you like a queen, a goddess. someone to be worshipped and revered and adored.

because you are adorable. and sweet, and funny, and charming and beautiful and every other word for something good.

best thing that's ever happened to him, really.

he gets your number, at least - he's taking some classes from your major, too. it's hard to help being interested in it when he hears you talk about it, the interest and enthusiasm lighting up your face when he asks you the right questions.

god, he could hear you talk forever. you're so cute when you're being all smart and nerdy and stuff.

maybe it makes sense that he can't stop jerking off to the video of you.

well, he remembers from his classes that it's not supposed to be a woman's fault when men find her attractive. but! maybe it's not his fault either!

it's just like a... pre-game. you're going to start dating eventually, and you'd be flattered for him to jerk off to you afterwards. he's just fudging the dates a little.

see? he was paying attention!

he always pays attention when it has to do with you. it's a wonder you haven't noticed yet. he sends you good morning texts, talks to you about classwork, your hobbies and stuff.

maybe you'd even call him a friend. but friend isn't what he wants to be.

not that it's a bad thing! he's not complaining about the friendzone or anything!

but no one in their entire life has ever asked to be just his friend. even suguru bowed out of it later. plus, he's seen your pussy (not that you knew about that).

anyways, he has to find some way to get... closer. to get you to want to date him.

to be honest it's weird that you haven't even flirted with him or anything. but satoru can't blame you. maybe you're shy!

or maybe, he thinks, recalling the group chat... maybe you've just been burned already.

a part of him (which has has dubbed his "inner feminist") rankles in unbridled fury at the thought. you don't deserve that. you didn't deserve any of that.

and he didn't deserve to suffer for it, either. he would never! not to you, anyways.

but he's got to find something. some way to ingratiate himself to you. to get closer. he can't just come out and say it - that would be weird!

and... and what if you say no?

of course you want him. everyone wants him. even when his own parents stopped wanting him around, they still wanted him to do shit for them. get the degree, help run the business, all sorts of shit.

he's rich, handsome, and he has so much to offer. it's not a question of if you want him. he's sure you do - but maybe... maybe you'd reject him because you're afraid of being hurt again.

that makes sense. that's why he's afraid. he's afraid, you're afraid - but the love is there! he knows it! you could be so happy together!

there must be some way to prove that he's not like that guy, he's different. the women's studies thing, they're nice, but they don't make him fuckable. they don't make you see him.

not that he was doing it just to get your attention! he was doing it because he's a feminist, now!

that's why he stays in the group chat. if that guy uploads another video of you, if he has another video (he swore he didn't, but bitches like him will say anything under pressure), satoru has to know about it.

so he can tell you. yeah. to warn you.

yeah... he'll warn you.

there's a new video in the group chat.

it's obviously you in the thumbnail. a candid recording. he only sees you in the first few seconds before he pauses it, heart racing out of his chest.

fuck. fuck, no. can he - can he really do this?

this is awful. vile. sure, he watched the first video they sent about you but he didn't know you then.

didn't know how nice your smile was. didn't know you'd show it to him if only he looked your way. didn't realize how good it would feel just to be near you.

now, he wants to protect you. get close to you. treat you right, give you the things that asshole was too much of a loser to give you.

he - he's different from those guys. he IS. he cares about you.

the video is already uploaded. he can't stop now. it's there, in the group chat, where anyone can see it.

he can't back out now. he has to go through with this.

satoru gojo presses play.

the video... it's not sexy.

it's candid, sure. it's obvious you can't tell you're being filmed. but then he catches the surroundings.

this is inside your house. the video is being taken inside your house.

he sees you pick up a scarf - a gift he'd slipped you, covertly, just a few days ago.

and then.

the camera moves.

it shifts in a way that makes it obvious it's being held. there's a soft breathing sound in the background.

the video goes on for a few minutes until it cuts to black.

of course, your little ex boyfriend (ex situationship? piece of fucking shit lying little bitch) denies having taken it.

oh, he runs his mouth. says he's been trying to get you off his back for weeks, why would he follow you around? you're the one who was texting and calling and pining for him like a lost puppy.

(his fists hurt from clenching so hard.)

piece of shit. how the fuck would he know that you were pining for him if he really wasn't paying attention? satoru has to do all this fucking shit to win your trust just because somebody broke your heart!

he says he wouldn't date you if he was paid, much less stalk your loser ass.

(like he'd be that lucky. maybe that's why the loser didn't date you, because he knew he could never keep a girl like you by his side.)

it's not convincing. it's not convincing at all. satoru presses him, reminds him that no one would believe that bullshit after what he's done -

and then the fucking loser reminds him - who knows?

nobody. nobody outside the group chat does. no one's going to report them. they can't, not without being implicated.

you never even knew you were being filmed the first time (your first time), and how could you have?

your first time. you didn't even get off. he ditched you, didn't pick up your calls, answer your texts.

(blood pools underneath his fingernails.)

satoru had let that happen to you. jerked off to it. and now there's a video of you in your own home. a stalker.

he... he has to tell you, doesn't he?

this is too much. too violating. too dangerous. he has to confess.

he can't let this go on any more.

but something jumps in his chest. there's no way to tell you about these videos without showing you, without you asking how he has it.

you'll want to know who sent it. you'll want to read the chat history. it's a group chat, he can't doctor it or adjust it.

he can't make up some other excuse for how he knows about this, because you need to know the real reason this was sent, to find the real culprit.

showing you the video without having any kind of explanation would just terrify you. it would be cruel.

but if you find out about this, about what he's done -

what will you do? will you ever look at him the same?

will you ever look at him again at all?

his mind races. plans. excuses. diversions. the group chat, the people in it. in your room. filming you.

you. you you you you you, you who are both everything and nothing to him. an acquaintance at best. he hasn't even asked you out yet.

you, who live rent-free in his head and make his whole heart ache.

you, writhing on that stupid fucking loser's cock, so close and he wouldn't even put in the effort to put you over the edge -

satoru knows what he has to do.

but what is he really willing to risk?

[4doras]

DOCTOR! DOCTOR! ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

how could a star player who never makes a mistake keep getting hurt? ⊹♡

basketballer!gunwook x studentnurse!reader

genre. fluff, mentions of getting hurt

wc. 1.4k

a/n. doctor doctor is stuck in my head and i’ve been wanting to make a gunwook fic, so it’s perfect timing ^_^

everyone knew park gunwook — gunwook, the star player of the school’s basketball team, gunwook, the guy who never missed a shot, gunwook, who wouldn’t miss a game for the world. he loved basketball, and everyone loved him, everyone except you.

you didn’t hate him per se, but you wouldn’t seem to find the hype around him. of course, you could agree if people spoke about his looks, but his personality? he wasn’t anything special.

more under the cut!

gunwook was flawless on the court with his precision and skill. no one could ever remember a time when he made a mistake, but lately, something odd had started. ever since you became the nurse at the clinic, gunwook had been getting injured more than usual. it was as if every time he played, he’d somehow end up with a bruise or a twisted ankle, always finding his way to you to get treated.

you couldn’t understand why he; who was so perfect, kept making these mistakes on the court. due to your slight dislike of him, you tried to keep your distance, but with each injury, you ended up seeing him more. and though you didn’t want to admit it, a small part of you wondered if it was more than just bad luck.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“y/n?” a voice echoed through your silent office, “could you bring your kit and come to the court? gunwook got hit in the head.” you recognised the boy as one of gunwook’s friends, another basketball player. “alright, i’ll be right there.” you kept your composure light and smiley, but you couldn’t think of a way how gunwook, someone who was also known to have good agility, could’ve been hit in the head hard enough to need someone to care for him.

you weren’t in any rush to go over, not like the other players were, but when you noticed him rubbing his head, you figured that you might as well check, turning your slow walk into a paced jog.

as you made your way over, you noticed his friends were acting a bit… strange. they weren’t laughing or making jokes, but there was a weird energy between them — glances exchanged, suppressed smiles, like they were all in on something. gunwook wasn’t in much pain, just a bit shaken, but his friends were acting like everything was perfectly normal, almost too normal, considering the situation. you couldn’t put your finger on it, but the way they behaved around gunwook left you feeling a little suspicious. they weren't concerned, not in the way you'd expect after an impact like that, making you wonder if they were up to something.

you crouched by him, holding him up so he’d sit up properly, had he been laying down flat before. “does it hurt here?” you gently put pressure on his forehead, unsure of where he got hit. “a little,” his voice carried a hint of discomfort, “it’s kinda like… here.” he took your hand off of his forehead, bringing it to the side of his head. “tell me when it hurts.” you gradually applied more and more pressure on the area, promptly hearing a wince. “i think you’ll be okay, just be careful. follow me, i’ll get you some ice.” you got back up, extending your hand toward him, offering him help to get back on his feet.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

he sat in front of you, waiting for whatever help you could give. once you looked at gunwook closer, you noticed a few scratches on his hands and a small cut on his forehead. it wasn’t serious, but you still reached for some ointment and a plaster to tend to the wounds. carefully applying it to his forehead, you found herself realizing gunwook looked a lot cuter up close than you ever really paid attention to before. his features were soft, and even with the small scrapes, there was something about him that made him seem a bit more attractive than she’d expected. you quickly pushed the thought aside, focusing on helping him rather than letting her mind wander.

you couldn’t be thinking like this — about gunwook, or anything else that made your heart flutter a little, but it was hard. it didn’t make sense. you knew he wouldn’t like you back, and that was fine. you didn't think less of yourself, but the truth was clear: there were so many other girls that were prettier and ‘more his type’ who thought of him the same way too. you had no reason to dwell on these feelings, especially when it wouldn’t lead anywhere. you couldn’t let herself get caught up in something pointless.

“focus, y/n. don’t daydream, your patient is hurt!” he whined, playing a small pout on his lips. “i’m not… i’m just a bit tired.” you hoped your lie was strategic enough, but acting wasn’t your major. he could see straight through you. “hm,” he cooed, “tired of what?” gunwook tilted his head to the side in mild confusion, the corner of his lips curled up into a playful smile as he looked at you. it was almost as if he knew that you weren’t telling the truth and was waiting for you to explain. “tired of you always coming here. i thought you were the best player, how come you keep ending up hurt?”

gunwook couldn’t help but giggle, seeing how clueless you were. you had no idea how obvious his feelings were. it was like a secret game to him, watching you so unaware of how much he liked you, despite him constantly creating a reason to find you.

gunwook knew exactly what he was doing when he’d fake an injury during basketball practice. it wasn’t that he actually got hurt, but he’d always manage to ‘slip’ or ‘twist’ something just enough to need attention. but the real reason? he loved having your attention on him. he’d sit there, trying to hide his grin, pretending to be in pain just to have you close. it wasn’t that he wanted to get hurt, but the way you cared for him made his heart race, and the excuse to see you — even for just a moment — was worth it every time.

“you’re seriously blind, huh?” he folded his arms, an irritating smirk on his lips. “i like you, silly. i’ve only been getting hurt because i wanna see you, and it wasn’t even that big of an issue… to me, at least.” gunwook couldn’t help but smile, his eyes lit up with a quiet confidence, as if the words he just said were exactly what he’d been waiting to say for a long time.

“what?” you couldn’t find the right words. you wanted to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn’t come out. every time you opened your mouth, it felt like they got stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled. the more he came to your office, it became more obvious to you that you liked him. you knew that much — maybe more than you even realized; but trying to put it into words felt impossible. it wasn’t that you were unsure of your feelings, it was just that every time you looked at him, all you could think about was how much you wanted him to know, but not knowing how to say it.

“i’m not joking, y/n. why do you think i’d keep coming here for something so small, like a cut? i could take care of that at home. i come here because i like you, because i want to see you.” gunwook looked at you, his eyes held an honesty that was impossible to miss, as if everything he was feeling was laid bare in that quiet, unwavering gaze.

“please, give me a chance, y/n.” you couldn’t say no to him, his eyes were basically kneeling in front of you, pleading for you to say yes. “you’re so desperate, it really doesn’t fit your look.” you giggled. you couldn’t believe the park gunwook was on his knees for you. “is that a no?” he said, in a much, much sadder voice. “i didn’t say it was.” you couldn’t help but laugh at his face. “i like you too, gunwook. but you better stop getting hurt for me.” you crossed your arms, pretending to look annoyed, but the playful smirk tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“i promise i’ll stop,” he put his pinky out, “and i’ll win every game for you.” his smile grew bigger. you locked your pinky with his, and pressed your thumbs together. “you better.”

[cha-melodius]

#16, Alex/Henry?

(Also requested by @firenati0n. I feel like there were two obvious options for this one: post-leaks in canon, or post-rescue mission of some kind. You can probably guess which one I chose. 😂 read all the hug ficlets)

Firstprince, 16: The “it’s okay, I’m here” hug.

Add’l note: This is more or less a tiny sequel to So Close to Something Better Left Unknown. You don’t have to have read the fic to read this ficlet, but it does contain minor spoilers for the very end of said fic.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

When Henry gave him the watch, it was half a joke and half because Henry’s in love with him and his hopeless heart latched onto the slim chance to keep an eye on him, at least from a distance. He’d expected Alex to leave it behind, or disable the tracker, or at the very least not wear it, but as far as he can tell, Alex had done none of those things. The tracker bops around the globe, giving Henry far too much information on CIA missions merely through its location. Not that Henry would ever pass on that information to his own agency, or anyone else for that matter.

That Alex trusted him not to, to keep his secrets… Well, it means a lot.

He assumed that at some point his own work would bring him within striking distance of Alex again, and he’d make use of the tracker to find him and… oh, hell, he doesn’t know. Say hello? It sounds absurd for a spy, but it’s pretty much all he could hope for. But before that happens, the tracker gets stuck for a week in a remote part of Guatemala, and Henry starts to get worried. Maybe Alex just lost the watch, or abandoned it for some reason. That’s the most reasonable explanation. Even so, Henry quietly requests recent satellite images of that area and zooms all the way in on the watch’s coordinates.

It’s a high-security compound of some sort. Not good.

He tries not to let his imagination run wild. The tracker he’d left in the watch is extremely high resolution, and he watches it occasionally move around the compound, as if someone was wearing it, though mostly it stays in one place. Alex could have traded it or gifted it as part of an operation; it was a valuable watch, after all. Still, it nags at Henry. He’s not going to be able to rest until he finds out what actually happened. The most straightforward way would be simply asking, but he has no way of contacting Alex except a burner phone he has no reason to believe Alex would be monitoring.

He sends a message anyway, but after a few days without a response, he can’t take it anymore.

It’s completely mad, he knows it is, but he makes up an excuse about tracking down a lead on a long-cold operation and books a ticket to Guatemala City. He covertly watches the outside of the compound for three days, keeping track of the men who come and go, and sends photos of them to Bea with a request to run facial recognition and not ask any questions. (She does, of course, but she doesn’t push, even when they come back with the names of some very bad people.)

Finally, once the compound’s primary resident leaves and takes with him what should be the majority of his armed muscle, Henry makes his move. The watch is still inside, and Henry follows the tracker’s signal down into the basement of an outbuilding, taking out a handful of guards with tranquilizers as he goes. The building is dark and dank, and the series of locked metal doors he finds do nothing to help the cold, hard knot that’s settled into his stomach. His hands don’t shake as he picks the lock on the one the watch is resting behind, but that careful composure slips when the door finally swings open to reveal a miserable lump curled on a thin mattress, a head of matted curls just visible through the murky darkness.

Alex flinches away when Henry first reaches out for him, scrambling into the corner, but then his eyes land on Henry and his mouth drops open. He blinks rapidly, scrubs frantically at his eyes, and blinks again.

“Henry?” he croaks in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you, love,” Henry tells him, holding his hands out in front of him as he slowly moves closer. “I’ve come to get you.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then Alex surges toward him. Henry almost shies away himself, unsure of what Alex means to do, but then Alex is grabbing him and wrapping him up in a hug so tight it squeezes the air out of Henry’s lungs, and Henry can do nothing else but curl his arms around the trembling man now occupying his lap.

“It’s ok, I’m here,” he murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand down Alex’s back.

“How?” Alex chokes out. “How did you…?”

His voice trails off as he raises his left arm and looks at his own wrist, where a bit of watch strap peeks out beyond the filthy cuff of his shirt. Inexplicably, his captors had let him keep it, though that becomes more understandable when his sleeve slips further down and Henry sees how he’s smeared it with mud. The exquisite Patek Philippe now looks like a beaten up piece of junk.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Alex says, his voice cracking over the syllables. He drops his arm and tries to bury his face in Henry’s chest. “That probably sounds dumb.”

“No, love, it doesn’t,” Henry says, holding him tighter. It’s torture to pull away, but eventually he must. “Come on,” he says, tipping Alex’s chin, now covered in a scraggly beard, up so their eyes meet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

[hypnotizedstarkey]

what if

reader taking bf!rafe to go watch babygirl in the cinemas and bf!rafe gets jealous when reader thirsts for harris dickinson LMAOO

Just a Movie

i love this idea!

jealous!rafe x reader

warnings: fluff, kinda suggestive, rafe being an ass guy a little

Just a Movie

“come onnnnn” i groan, “i really want to see this movie”, i pout my lips slightly. Rafe would rather be caught dead then watching some romance/kinky movie. He hasn’t moved an inch even though i’m pulling his arm with every being of my body.

His face unfazed and body laying on the bed, hat covering his face. “Baby, what’s up with you wanting to see some weird movie?”

I huff, “It’s not weird! My celebrity crush is in it-“ this immediately catches his attention. he takes his hat off his face, showing his hint of jealously.

“Now i’m definitely not going.” i frown, “hey don’t get jealous”, i poke at him. “Ask your pogue friends.” he sits up.

“They’re all on their little dates besides I wanted to go see it with you.” i give him a small smile, intertwining our fingers slightly.

“plus.. maybe i’ll give you a small gift..” i peck his lips softly with a smile. he groans as if the suggestion will kill him.

“fine.”

“yes!” i give him kisses all around his face, straddling him. “okay okay, let’s go”, he pats my ass as a signal to get up.

One of the best things about Rafe is that he always knows what i want to eat and what i like. i honestly don’t know how he remembers everything but it’s something i love about him.

“ready, baby?” holding our snacks in his hand. i hum in response.

As we get situated in our seats and the previews play, i can tell rafe is feeling off. “what’s wrong?”

“jus’ thinking”

was he mad at me? did i do something?

i hold back my questions, usually if he wants to talk about something he’ll communicate with me. we’ve been working on doing that a lot recently so maybe i’m just overthinking.

the movie starts and starts getting more and more interesting and intense as it goes on, the more intimate scenes come on and i can tell rafe is looking at me. he’s tense like he’s wanting to leave or just not in the mood for the movie.

“you don’t gotta stare so hard at him..” i hear him mumble. “..what?” taken aback.

he doesn’t reply and it suddenly hits me. is rafe cameron… jealous? i can’t even believe he’s jealous of all people, i would’ve never expected him to get jealous.

“are you… jealous?” i ask more hesitate. “pfft no..? what are you talking about?” he whispers trying to not be louder than the movie.

“oh you soooooo are.” i extended my words and laugh. “it’s okay baby i’m all yours, just hope he doesn’t grab me through the screen.”

“whatever i’m way hotter than that guy”, he’s pulling off this cool guy persona like he doesn’t care.

he places his hand on my thigh, softly gripping as if he’s trying make sure i know im his.

“i only have my eyes on you, cameron, don’t worry” he makes a mocking face towards me and i shove him a little with a laugh.

“wanna get out of here or stay and watch your little boyfriend?” the snarky remark ending with a sly smile on his face.

“yeah yeah whatever let’s go”

“i still get that little gift right?” he slaps my ass as i get up to leave

hiii guys this is my first fluff, it’s kinda short but i hope you like it 💞

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . rafe cameron x apple pie!reader

Rafe didn’t understand what everybody was always running their mouth about when they said shit like “you’ll meet a nice girl” “you’ll wanna settle down” because, in his experience, nice girls were atrociously boring and no one he ever wanted to be around. He was sure he’d shack up with some bitch and get married and pump out a couple kids because he had to, because that’s what he was supposed to do, but not because he loved someone so much he wanted to

That was, until he met you.

You, with your gentle beauty and the way your hair was always so close to perfect but never quite. The pleated skirts and the way you always smelled of cinnamon and, faintly, soil. Warm as a kitchen at dawn, quiet except for your laugh, which was loud enough to scare the birds out of the forest.

The thing about girls with rickety front porches and warm hands, though, is that you have to be on their best behavior around them—that’s what Barry said, at last: “Man, she’s not gonna want your coked-up ass. That typa chick wants a dude who builds a fuckin’ fence and shit. They don’t like rich dudes. Give it up.”

And unfortunately, Rafe was pretty sure he was right. You mostly kept your head down when you walked, and no matter how many things he leaned against, or how many times he casually smoked a cigarette near you, he just couldn’t get you to look his direction—and if you did, you didn’t grant a second glance to his crisp white shirts or his backwards hat.

His crowning last-stitch move was when he made a big show of helping his dear sister carry her bag when she was walking down the dock—it looked heavy, he wouldn’t want her hurting herself! She’s family, after all! Sarah had tried to wrestle the bag back and she flipped him off after he put it onto the boat for her, but it’d already had the desired effect… your eyes lingered on him for a moment. Family was important, after all. You were the kinda girl who cared about those things.

When the two of you started going out, he felt like his life was spinning out of control and simultaneously clicking into place. You had expectations for him, real ones. And a lot of the time when you said shit like “I’m making dinner tonight, don’t be late” or “wash your hands” Rafe wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself, because you weren’t his damn mother—except when he looked over at you and saw your face, that wide-eyed, imploring look you always gave him, the words died in his throat. What the hell was wrong with him?

He’d do something nice for you and you’d nudge his arm. “What, you sweet on me or somethin’?” He’d wonder who even talks like that, it’s weird. Then he’d find himself grabbing your pretty face and kissing you so hard you think he might break your nose.

Rafe was so, so well behaved with you. He kept it together so nice, all his unstable shit wrapped up into a neat little package tied with ribbon. He acted as a guy who smiled semi-often, and said thank you sometimes, and maintained eye contact with you when he was fucking you—all things that were new and unfamiliar to him. When you told him what time dinner was, he came over in time. He kissed your forehead and he meant it. For you, he did it all. Barry had been right. You wanted a well-behaved guy, and Rafe wanted to watch the way your smile took over your face when you were happy and the ecstatic look on your face when you came, so he was well-behaved.

That was, until he wasn’t.

He was supposed to come over at nine. You would’ve just gotten out of the shower (or maybe you’d still be in, if he got lucky) and you’d put your cute little plaid PJs on, and you’d climb on top of him and put your weight on his chest while the two of you watched some 90’s movie. The movie would get boring in act three and he’d watch you ride him, and then he’d cum on your stomach like a gentleman, and the two of you would fall asleep wrapped up in eachother.

Instead of that carefully constructed, lovely, dreamy evening—Rafe showed up at nearly three in the morning, covered in blood.

He knew you’d be asleep, he’d have time to wash his face and toss his shirt in the trash can out back before climbing into your bed with you. He didn’t wanna go home. He wanted to press kisses to your throat and apologize for being late, swear that it would never happen again and then make it up to you in the morning by making you cum over and over in your crisp red plaid bedsheets.

Instead, he found you sitting on a stool in your living room, head leaned against the wall, eyes heavy with sleep. Waiting for him. Rafe froze like a deer in headlights and waited for the inevitable, for you to call him a psychopath and beat him off the property with a broom.

You didn’t. You didn’t speak, just led him to the bathroom and wiped the blood from his face, carded your fingers through his hair. Threw his clothes into the rattling washing machine with a tablespoon of hydrogen peroxide, and then let him crawl into bed with you anyway. The two of you were silent, and he slung an arm over you. You settled into the crook of his armpit and fell asleep with your face smushed against his bicep, and he felt something horrible and unfamiliar blooming in his chest.

You could never leave him, he decided. He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t survive that.

[impactrueno]

some stuff about lydia's jacket in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. hope you guys are ready for another thinkpiece no one asked for:

right so. colleen atwood decided to give lydia (and rory) these garments that seemed so unfinished it was distracting me. but i know there's a reason for every costume choice, so i watched this super short rundown she gave about a few of the outfits in one of the promotional videos for the movie, but i was disappointed that she didn't say anything about this one. i knew i had to draw it at some point so i really needed to know what it's supposed to be. a friend who went to the Afterlife Experience prop exhibition even took photos of the damn thing up close at my request, just so i could take a closer look and see if i could figure it out. but nothing. i didn't know how to draw it and it was driving me insane. i felt stupid. like what am i missing here

months later here i am, browsing pinterest for my beetlejuice inspo boards and i randomly find it and others like it:

and this is how i learned that these were created by british designer elena dawson. the way this article described this style made everything make sense:

Her Victorian frocks with unfinished seams and hanging fabric strips speak of ghostly things, simultaneously ephemeral and imprinted with history, the stuff of Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter, a witchy presence in the world that no longer cares for fairy tales.

more:

Maybe it is this ghostly presence that informs Dawson’s work, which reflects her fascination with death. “The relation between clothing, ritual, and death is of great interest to me,” says she. “In some respects, through clothing I am also working through my relationship to death.”

and the way she described it herself:

“When you work on alterations you are really tearing the guts out of the garment, performing a sort of autopsy—you really get to see a garment at its most vulnerable point. Observing this state of semi deconstruction in the making of a garment or shoe is what I like to retain in my finished work.“

oh my god.

the clothes are lydia. they are purposefully incomplete.

lydia's whole deal in the movie was that she was messed up from of all the shit she's been through to the point where she's no longer herself. the events in her life have been slowly picking the threads of what kept her together, what makes her her. delia has this great line that basically sums up lydia's pathos in the movie: "you need to take back your life from those hanger-onners, from this thing," meaning rory and beetlejuice. "where's the obnoxious little goth girl who tormented me all those years ago? it's time to find her."

i'd wager they made rory wear the same style of deconstructed jacket for the funeral specifically because he was trying to come off like this was a tragedy to him just as much, that he's "vulnerable" like the deetz women right now. you know, his whole modus operandi and all (unnecessarily large handkerchief included.) interestingly enough, lydia does NOT wear the loose thread jacket that would match rory's coat here. her own outfit is still by the same designer though, so it's like...they match, but also don't. they're in a relationship, but don't fit together.

according to interviews, using elena dawson designs was winona ryder and justin theroux's idea that they brought up to colleen atwood, and can i just say that i love how much input they had on their characters? justin in particular had SO much fun playing rory, his interviews are great. he owned the role. he knows a lot about fashion, so he was the first one to suggest this look and vibe for him.

as for winona, she wore dawson herself multiple times during the promotional tour for the movie. like, this is just her actual wardrobe. you can tell she had fun trying to emulate lydia's bangs and ponytail with these fits too.

i don't know much about fashion, honestly. but i love character design and telling a story through a character's clothes. so obviously i'm nerding out about this hardcore. perhaps i should learn more about fashion so i can do cool stuff like this too.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

blue eyes + bruises - part six

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

—

Rafe’s soft hand tracing the freckles on your cheek is what woke you and as you stirred, wincing, as the first of the morning’s pain hit your senses, you looked up and into his blue eyes. At that moment, you were convinced there was no better way to wake up. You could imagine looking into his eyes in a tiny apartment close to the hospital; coffee filling your nostrils as the beans were rung of their juices and into the cup he’d be sure to bring to your bedside, because he’s just that kind of a guy. Those daydreams had been keeping you going lately, imagining a life outside of what you were living now – outside of hospital filled days and pain and the unattainable doctor at your bedside. You had been starting your mornings with blue eyes a lot lately, which was the main constant between your daydreams and your reality – those days – the blue-eyed days, always let you put your best foot forward and you were thankful that today was one of those days. 

“Good morning, pretty girl.” 

He spoke softly, careful not to startle you as you were still gaining your bearings from the slumber you were woken from. 

“Hi.” 

You spoke suggestively, your morning voice poking through, unsure of how sexy he found you as you sat upright in the hospital bed. You winced again. 

“Easy, tiger.” 

He chastised you softly, pushing your shoulders back against the soft pillows. 

“Here, let me.” 

He spoke, reassuring you with a smile. You gingerly nodded as he grabbed the bed’s remote control and brought the top half to an upright position. 

“What would I do without you?” 

You questioned playfully again. Jenni snickered from behind Rafe, watching as you shamelessly flirted with him, you had made that your full time job and you hoped he didn’t mind. You weren’t stupid enough to think he meant the nicknames and sweet words, even though it all felt real, you were sure it wasn’t. The truth was, you didn’t believe in love, even if it came in the form of Rafe Cameron, who you were sure had much better prospects than some girl he met for the first time in the emergency room. You thought about the night of your accident often – so much so that it was consuming your being; some days it was all you thought about and this morning, while you woke up to those pretty blue eyes, was no different. The thoughts were consuming you in the same way that Molly consumed him. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, drowning out the sound of Jenni and Rafe chatting amongst you about the day's plans. You loved them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when all you could see as your rows of eyelashes collided was the pale blue dress that clung to your body as you looked in the mirror one last time before heading out the door. Another blind date. You had spent your last thirty bucks on the dress, hopeful it would make a good impression. All that you knew about him was that he was a doctor – you didn’t know where or even what his name was, you just hoped he wasn’t an asshole like the last three had been. You were lonely and ready to find your person; your fertility clock ticking away by the day. You were supposed to fall in love in college and get married and do all the things that you’re supposed to do when that happens. But, instead, some dumb boy named Storm had broken your heart freshman year and you hadn’t let anyone in since. What kind of a person names their son Storm, anyways? Though you thought maybe they knew the Storm he’d turn into – maybe they knew who he’d become. You should’ve taken it as an omen; for him, for your life, for the way the 18 wheeler collided with your car, for the way the blood soaked the pale blue satin of your dress, and for the way the first time you locked eyes with Rafe you knew you loved him. 

“Earth to y/n!”

You heard Rafe chuckle as he waved his hand in front of your face. Your eyes were closed, but you felt the wind against your face as he moved it back and forth. Your eyes flew open and you forced a smile; he could tell. 

“Sorry, I was thinking.” 

You replied softly. 

“What were you thinking about, sweetheart? Is everything okay? Are you in pain?” 

His brows furrowed in concern. One thing you admired about Rafe is that he always wanted to make sure you were okay. He was selfless and kind; a golden retriever in human form and you loved that about him. You knew those qualities made him a good doctor and moreso, a good person, a good man. 

“I’m fine, I promise. I just got lost in my thoughts. I feel a little weird today, lots of emotions, y’know?” 

You replied, giving him a genuine smile this time. He always brought them out of you – by simply just being. 

“Will it make you feel better if I tell you I brought you breakfast and that you and I are going to go on a little field trip?” 

He looked at you with bright eyes, eagerly anticipating your response and as the joy laced your features, he knew he’d do anything to watch that in slow motion over and over again. 

“Is it my favorite?!” 

You squealed in question and excitement, already knowing the answer. ‘He remembers things about me’, you thought.

“Of course it is, you know I gotta take care of my girl.” 

He said, placing the chicken and mayo biscuit on the tray table in front of you. You looked down at the orange and brown Biscuit Co. wrapping paper it was covered in. Ever since Rafe had found out that you loved it as much as him, he made it his mission to bring you one at least once a week. He deemed it a treat for your progress in treatment. The words that had just come out of his mouth hit you in the same way your body flying through the windshield of your car had. The assault on all your senses made you freeze and your only response was the blush that filled your cheeks and a soft smile. 

His girl? Is that what you were to him – were you his girl? Or, would he be just like everyone else if you were too close to him. 

“Now, eat up – Big day today, sweet girl.” 

He said, smiling at you – the Rafe Cameron one – the one you couldn’t get enough of.

“What’s so special about today?”  

You questioned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Today is your first day out of the hospital with me.” 

He said sweetly, rubbing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You frowned, anxiety filled you. He knew you well enough now to know it would trigger your fight or flight response – hence the biscuit. 

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll be there the whole time – we got this. It’ll be fun. You deserve some fun, don’t you think?” 

“I-I don’t know, Rafe.” 

You muttered. 

“You do. Now, eat up and I’ll go get everything ready for us to go. Jenny is gonna help you get dressed okay? I had her get some clothes for you.” 

He promised in return, a wink meeting your gaze before he kissed your cheek and disappeared from the room as quickly as he had entered. 

“He’s a sneaky little fucker, isn’t he?” 

Jenny blurted out, erupting in a belly laugh and suddenly there were crinkles beside your lashes as your smile met your eyes. 

“That, he is – but, you know what he’s up to, don’t you?” 

You questioned her, squinting your eyes in her direction. 

“I don’t know a thing!” 

She gasped, feigning shock as she placed her hand against her chest like you had shattered her heart. You could only laugh at her antics. 

“Okay, but, seriously – is this okay? Can I trust him?”

You asked. 

“Sweet girl, if there’s anyone you can trust – it’s him.”  

Jenny replied, a sweet smile on her face. Your heart clenched at her words and you nodded shyly in response. 

She moved around you to the chair adjacent to your bed where a pile of clothes lay waiting for you, quickly gathering them up in her hands before walking around the bed again and helping you lean forward. You aided her as best as you could with your left leg locked straight by the brace it was confined to. She started by reaching behind your neck as she helped you lean forward and gently untying the hospital gown that was draped over your top half. Her hands worked quickly and before you knew it, she was helping you into a bra and placing a UNC sweatshirt over your head. It was oversized and large, accommodating the injuries to your abdomen well. They were healing, but you wouldn’t be back to normal for a while. Jenni continued her work, tenderly removing the straps of the brace and lifting your leg out of it, taking the shorts that Rafe had provided for you and placing each of your ankles before she slid them up your legs as you sat there. 

“Okay, sweet girl. I’m gonna put the brace back on and then I'll help you upright so we can pull your pants up.” 

She spoke sweetly, encouraging you along the way. She knew how humiliating this was for people, she was no stranger to the reality of that. She worked as fast as she could, buckling you back into your prison before turning your body and letting your legs lower to the floor. 

“Put your hands on my shoulders and don’t touch your injured leg to the ground, okay? Rafe will kill me otherwise.” 

She joked, but you did as she said and watched in adoration as she manhandled you and helped you stand only on your healthy leg while she pulled your pants up around your hips. 

“All done!” 

She beamed emphatically at her hard work coming to fruition and just as the words left her lips Rafe entered the room. 

“You ready, sweet girl?” 

 He questioned and you smiled kindly in response, giving him a slight nod.

— 

Rafe had packed you safely in the backseat of his truck and he’d gone above and beyond, really. Though, you were sure maybe it was just the doctor in him that had you currently seated in luxury; your back leaned up against the back driver’s side door, a very fluffy pillow well above the regular hospital grade ones you were used to created a barrier between you, the window, and the plastic door handle. Your legs were laying straight out in front of you, the left one elevated by the same brand of fluffy pillow that your back leaned against. Rafe had thought of everything it seemed, you made a mental note of that as you watched your ice machine pump cool water onto the top of your knee. 

“How are you feeling back there, pretty girl?” 

He asked, turning down the radio and locking eyes with you in the rearview mirror. You gave him a soft smile, though the gravity of this being your first time in a vehicle since your accident weighed heavy on you. 

“A little overwhelmed.” 

You responded meekly and his eyes softened even more than their usual pouty, puppy-dog-like state, though you didn't even think that was possible prior to this moment. 

“I know, sweetheart. Can you make it three more minutes? We’re about to pull in.” 

He questioned you and you nodded in return, giving him a kind smile. Though he noticed it didn’t meet your eyes. Exactly three minutes and thirty-seven seconds later Rafe opened the door on the passenger side of the backseat. Your legs are met with the crisp autumn air and for the first time you realize that though it’s only been a few weeks since your accident, the world outside of your hospital room seems to be going on without you, without a second thought about you. Rafe can see how nervous you are in the murky waters of your eyes, so he does what he does best — he provides a distraction. That’s what he hopes this day will be. He hopes this day will give you a tiny fraction of the joy you deserve to feel. He’s only seen glimpses up close, but he knows how special you are. He knows you’re too good for him and far too good for this world. 

“Hello beautiful!” 

He greets you emphatically and you smile wide at him. 

“Hi, again.” 

You giggle in response. 

“Sit tight, I'll get you out in just a sec.” 

He says and you nod, watching him through the small window at the rear of the truck as he lifts the wheelchair from the bed of it and returns to your line of sight again. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” 

He asks and you nod, scooting toward him with the small amount of muscle on your right side that’s still able to help you in your movements. 

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart.” 

He coos, coaching you until you’ve slid your bottom to the middle of the bench of the back seat. Your breathing is labored when you’ve reached this point and his eyes soften at the sight. You’re trying so hard and you’re stronger than he could ever be, mentally and emotionally. So, again, he does what he does best – this time, swooping in to aid you. 

“That’s good, you did so good. Let me do the rest, yeah?” 

You nod in response to his question, though you know that it’s not really a question and that when it boils down to it, he would’ve done it anyways. His torso leans in to the inside of the truck and he places one hand under your knees and one around your shoulders. 

“Put your hands around my neck, okay?” 

He commands softly and you give him the reassurance he’s looking for with a nod. Before you know it, you’re airborne, leaning your head onto his shoulder for the brief moment before he places you down into the wheelchair. He kneeled down, adjusting the leg rest so your injured leg could sit comfortably, grabbing the pillow from the car and placing it underneath your injured limb. He stood and you smiled at him. 

“Thank you, Rafe. You’re kinder than I deserve.” 

You muttered, eyes casting down to where your hands rested on your legs. You were surprised as his thumb and forefinger met your chin, pulling your eyes toward his. 

“One of these days, I'll prove to you that you deserve far more than I can give.” 

He says, your chin still between his fingers, his thumb moving up to stroke your plump bottom limp. You look at him doe-eyed, struck with wonder at the fact that he’s saying it to you and not to some other beautiful girl, one more deserving of the kind of love that he has to offer. He’s so pretty, you think. Pretty eyes, pretty smile – pretty boy – your mind spouts out at your gazing. 

“Let’s have a good day, yeah?” 

He asks, bringing you back to earth. Your breath is caught in your throat, so you only manage a nod in response to him. 

“Almost forgot.” 

He said smiling, leaning into the passenger seat of his truck and grabbing a blanket before placing it over your legs and closing the doors of his vehicle. You were thankful. 

— 

The surprise couldn’t have been better, in fact, you’re glad you hadn’t known prior to this moment that Rafe had scored two tickets for a tour at a museum you’d only dreamt of seeing in person; the metropolitan museum of art. You’d meant to go so many times since you moved to New York, but sadly between your busy schedule as a teacher and your inability to time manage, you’d never made it. But, this – now, you’d managed it with a hunky boy at your side. You felt like you were dreaming as Rafe pushed you up the handicapped ramp. You admired the columns at the front of the entrance, its architecture something you’d seen photographs of for so many years, yet now, you realized they were truly larger than life, larger than you’d ever imagined. It made you feel uniquely human to gawk at the stone as it stood and as you smiled to yourself in reverence and awe at this day just as it began, Rafe knew he had done the right thing by bringing you here. You needed this — you needed joy. 

You’d made it through admission quickly, the foyer of the building as beautiful as you had dreamed of. There were people bustling all around you as Rafe pushed you even further and further into the room. Your senses were almost lost underneath the bucket of chaos, but you looked up and for the first time saw the beautiful architecture of the foyer ceiling. It was something that again, you’d seen hundreds of photos of, but the beauty of seeing it in person was truly overwhelming. You were jolted from the thought as Rafe parked your wheelchair near the center of the room where a giant plant played the role of a centerpiece and benches sat just below it. He locked the wheels before kneeling in front of you. 

“How’s your leg feeling, sweetheart? Do you need any medicine before we get started?” 

He questioned, removing the blanket from your left leg to take a look at the swelling himself. 

“The pain isn’t bad, I think the ice helped on the way over.” 

You spoke, giving him a hopeful smile. 

“How about some ibuprofen, then? Just to keep the swelling down.” 

He questioned, his doctor mind working in overdrive even outside of the hospital to ensure your safety. 

“Okay.” 

You agreed, accepting the pills from his hand as he reached into the bag Jenny packed that lay draped across the bars of your chair and pulled out a water bottle for you to swallow it down with. You swallowed them smoothly, watching as Rafe gave your leg one more once over and fluffed the pillow it sat on before covering you with the blanket once again. 

“Good girl. You ready?” 

He asked, his smile meeting his eyes in excitement and you nodded, hoping you’d never forget what he looked like when he did that. When all this was over and you were no longer under his care, you hoped you’d never forget that smile. 

—

Rafe pushed your chair forward into the first exhibit in your path, Van Gogh’s Cypresses, with a map of the museum in his hand. It was quiet between the two of you, uncertainty looming in the air of what the day would bring, if you’d let the other in. You didn’t make much of it, observing your surroundings as you were rolled forward. You’d heard about this exhibit coming to the museum in the form of an email newsletter from the met and you’d thought about coming so many times, but again, time got away from you. You were sure never to let that happen again once you were healed and the initial fear of living dissipated just as you knew it would. Your eyes traced over the painting; the stark contrast of the evergreen trees the exhibit was based around paired with the night sky sent chills down your spine. 

“Do you know what Van Gogh found so remarkable about the cypress trees?” 

You finally questioned him, breaking the silence as he parked your chair in front of a giant painting. Your eyes traced over it; the stark contrast of the evergreen trees the exhibit was based around paired with the night sky sent chills down your spine. 

“Why don’t you tell me?” 

He smirked, locking your wheels and kneeling down beside you, seeing it through your lens. He wanted to see everything through your lens. He looked to you with a pure smile, one you were sure that only he was capable of and you aren’t sure but you felt immense peace. 

“Well, he found the trees beautiful and eternal and ethereal and much like most artists do, he looked to other art. But, noticed that no one had captured them quite the way he saw them. So, he set out on a mission to do it himself.” 

He smiled at your analysis, knowing that your years of reading and teaching must’ve led you to this conclusion. 

“I didn’t know that, thank you for teaching me something new.” 

He replied and as sweet as his words were, you couldn’t help the shrill of embarrassment crawl up your spine, its force so strong, your body seemed to curl into itself where you sat. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

He asked, afraid you were in more pain than you were letting on. For a brief moment, he wondered if this outing was a mistake, if he was hurting you, rather than helping you for his own selfish motives. 

“Nothing, I'm sorry if I sounded like a know-it-all. I have a bad habit of doing that. I’m sure you know lots about Van Gogh, you have a fucking medical degree for crying out loud.” 

You stuttered out quickly and he couldn’t help but smile at how flustered you’d become. 

“Hey — look at me.” 

His voice is soft as he commands your attention and you follow his instructions. 

“I might have a medical degree, but I don't know everything. In fact, there’s a lot I don’t fucking know – like an absurd amount. If it doesn’t have to do with bones or a joint, it’s actually quite foreign to me.” 

He uttered, watching as your eyes moved back and forth over his face, like you were committing it to memory. Little did he know, you were. 

“Listen to me. You and I, we’re both separate people with faults and quirks. We met by the brutality of the universe, right? I want you to forget about all of that. Today, I want you to forget about the accident, forget about our relationship, forget about the hospital. Today, we’re a girl and a guy at a museum. I know the contents of your medical chart, but I want to know what makes you laugh so hard that your stomach hurts, y/n. I want to know you. So, I’m gonna walk away for five minutes and when I come back, we’re going to start over, yeah?” 

His words made a lump form in your throat, its width as big as a beach ball. 

“Yeah.”

You whispered in response. You didn’t hear Rafe walk away but you knew that he had by the quiet amidst you in a room full of chatting people. The next thing that gave him away was the fact that his presence gave you a warmth that you couldn’t describe and in the short stent that he was away from you, you longed for it. You wondered if he’d come back at all. 

“So, do you come here often?” 

Your favorite voice boomed over your shoulder. 

“U-Uh no, it’s actually my first time. You?” 

You replied, a smile hiding behind your plump lips. 

“I come about once a year. Can’t say I’ve ever seen the likes of your beauty here, though.” 

He spoke and you giggled at the cheesy one-liner that he pulled out of his docket. For the first time since he’d returned you met his blue eyes. 

“Are your pick-up lines that bad with everyone or am I getting special treatment?”

You asked him, chuckling. He wore a sly grin at your giggle. It was the first time he’d really seen you laugh and he was sure that he wanted it to keep happening – for forever. 

“You’re getting celebrity treatment. I pulled that one from the deluxe package.” 

You laugh boisterously in unison. 

“So – very cheesy stranger, can I ask who you are?” 

You questioned him. 

“That’s a loaded question, pretty girl. But, here goes nothing. I’m the guy who smiles when it rains, thunderstorms help me sleep. Libraries are my safe haven. I went to college at UNC and moved here with my college sweetheart. My favorite author is John Steinbeck. I’m a doctor, I came from a broken home, my sister is my best friend, I hate anchovies, and I broke my hip in a motorcycle accident when I was fifteen.” 

He replied. 

“You had me at the anchovies. Nice to meet you, very-cute stranger boy. I’m y/n and I feel like I've known you my whole life.” 

The words you uttered were like music to his ears. 

“Tell me, y/n, who are you?” 

He asks and your mouth tips up in a smirk. 

“I'll tell you what, show me around your favorite places here and I'll tell you everything you want to know.” 

You said with a smirk. 

“Negotiator and briber. I love it. You got yourself a deal, beautiful girl.”

He replied, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, pushing your chair away from the Van Gogh exhibit and into the direction of art that was unknown to you. You were sure that no matter what, you never wanted to forget this moment, this purity, this bliss — no hospital rooms or surgeries or medicine, just you and the man you were falling in love with. Together. 

— 

taglist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7 @wtfdudesblog @urdreamgirl12 @hockeybabe87 @sereneera @annaconscience @pogueprincesa @bibissparkles @obxbigsis @jjmaybankmylovee

[whereserpentswalk]

Thinking about how well Worm handles disability, especially compared to most other things in its genre. The way lifelong injuries are treated as a normal part of being a cape. The fact that Taylor is blind for awhile and it's not treated as a tragedy, and how when it's healed by scapegoat it's not treated as some sort of redemptive miracle, but just a thing that happened. Defiant's wounds still being something that effects him even though he has tinker magitech. Kid Wind having adhd and being helped by meds but then having to go off them due to side effects. Taylor seeing paralysis as a fate worse then death being seen as a her thing and not an objective fact (and probably being from trauma during the leviathan fight). Genesis's disability being something the people around her care about a lot more then her. Labyrinth and Bitch both being basically neurodivergent from their powers (labyrinth being essentially high support needs, and Bitch being essentially low support needs) with both being able to live fulfilling lives with people who care about them (also that scene with someone trying to baby talk Bitch near the end really hit home for me).

Also, Dragon, despite not being literally disabled is a very good disability allegory. People who don't know she's a machine often think she's disabled. The way her father put so many constraints on her because he didn't trust her, because of what she was. The way so many human characters see her right to live as something up for debate. The way Saint calls Defiant's attraction to her a fetish because he can only comprehend someone loving her as being some strange abnormality. The fact that teacher thinks it's ok to put constrains on her basically because he physically can. Defiant and her being intimate by testing how well they can feel sensations. Even just the way Saint talks about her not being able to truly feel emotion, but saying she tricked herself into doing so, is reminiscent of how some people talk about people with Cluster B disorders. And beyond that, the fact that all of the people who dehumanize her are framed as unquestionably in the wrong. Hell, she had a trigger event so even the eldritch horrors affirm her personhood.

I realize the discussion of Dragon was longer then I planned. But yeah, worm has much better disability rep then anything else I've seen in the superhero genre (probably because it's written by a disabled author).

Also I'm pretty sure you have to be neurodivergent to read a 1,672,617 word long internet book about the sociopolitical ramifications of superpowers. /j

[jivvie]

SO YEAH I LIKE MOONCOVEY

but what I really liked abt this season was that min ho still cares for kitty. yes, she rejected him on the plane and he probably spent winter break wondering why he confessed on the damn plane RIGHT AFTER DAE AND KITTY BROKE UP- but when kitty ends up talking to him, he understands the situation they both are in and they continue being friends with a side of teasing.

and yeah we didn’t get a lot of mooncovey screen time cus of stella and also they aren’t roommates anymore BUT WHEN THEY DO YOU CAN SEE HOW MUCH MIN HO CARES FOR KITTY

when kitty exposes stella to min ho and he believes she’s jealous, at the party, Min Ho listens to Q and asks Kitty for a dance. He pushes away the thought of Kitty being jealous and instead asks her as a friend. The first thing he says when Stella is threatening him is “if you dare touch kitty” (or smth like that). HE REALLY CARES FOR HER SO MUCH.

I saw @listentomerant’s post about xo kitty and they talked about how kitty falls in love through strong emotional bonds. I LOVE THIS POST SO MUCH ITS SO GOOD. Thats why Min ho being there for when Kitty needs someone or legit anyone makes this all the more worth it. He knows she’ll never think of him as more and he moves past that to become a better friend.

I’m glad that Kitty rejected him because this season gives more into their relationship. It isn’t just min ho having a “sex” dream about kitty and focusing on her more. We get to see kitty’s side (even if it was kind of short). We see her understand how reliable Min ho is even though she rejected him. He really does become the bigger person and although it might just be denial, this really shows how much better min ho is as a partner.

even with stella, min ho is just a good partner. stella wants to sing for the show, and because he sees how she stood up to his dad and how much she cares for him, he decides to ask. He was still rocky with his dad but because stella was a good person to him, he felt the need to give back to her.

If they had kitty accept min ho’s confession, it would really fall flat. Kitty just “fell out of love” with Yuri and broke up with Dae, and getting into a new relationship would honestly destroy their chemistry. Having a whole season to actually develop this relationship is more worth it instead.

sorry I went too into this. I know people are really upset about kittyuri and how they wrote yuri this season, but I really think that in the context of this season, min ho feels more reliable. I would love to see the writers next season pit yuri and min ho against each other (which would be super funny; imagine fighting against your older sister/younger brother to become the canon relationship) as it’d be very interesting, but I think we can tell mooncovey is most likely endgame.

[knuiui]

╮TWST Boys feat. "What's your perfume type? "

♡ HEARTSLABYUL ❣

the dorm based on the strict queen of hearts! since that 'certain' fiasco just a week after you and yuuken arrived the first friends you had is from this dorm! you still hangout with them from time to time especially during unbirthday parties! pictures of your outfits for the event always go viral.

╰ Riddle Rosehearts ♥

you and him got close after 'that' incident. you consider him as a smol hedgehog that needed to be protected 🥺 he almost dropped kicked your knee caps after you said that /j. but on serious note, riddle considers you as one of the most hard working person he's ever met aside from his mother. he'd been the witness of your grueling hours of practice just to get a character's accent right (yk cause you're not from here) and study what type of character you're playing as. he wished you'd take care of yourself more though. relaxing is good okay! he's been through the same road and he'd hate to see you suffer some sort of breakdown like he did, minus the homicidal tendencies.

he's seen that video. It practically went viral over at twistok the moment it was said to be you participating in the "What's your perfume type?" kind of questions.

acts cool but is actually panicking on the inside. really considered changing his perfume to match whatever you said was your type.

he didn't get to ofc. that perfume was practically sold out within 24 hours of the viral video being posted. you're fans really are very dedicated. instead he opted for a new fragrance that caught his eye while browsing the store.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Amouage, CRIMSON ROCKS

cater later did the whole trend as well for the members of heartslabyul dorm and asked him the question, he glared for a little bit before answering and hastily turning back to his books. if you squint you can see the tips of his ears almost color matched the shade of his hair.

he answered, "[your perfume]"

╰ Trey Clover ♣

this handsome mf almost had you groveling for him jk. you two has always been in good terms even before the whole heartslabyul fiasco, you darn nearly kneeled on one knee after he gave you a box of his divinely baked sweets. now he's the one that always supplies you snacks whenever you're at nrc campus for practice aside from jamil ofc. he admires how dedicated you are in getting all your scenes on one take. though, he wished you'd take time and eat properly, he can see how small the portion of the foods he brought you actually ate. you insists you'll eat it later but he's not having any of it. mom friend tbh.

of course he saw the video. he might not look like he uses social media daily but he does actually use it a lot more that an average person, his family's bakery has to advertise their products somehow yk?

when he came across it it didn't bother him that much. but now that he thinks about it, didn't his perfume ran out just a week ago? well maybe it's time for some replacement after all.

you'd think that trey is the kind of guy that prefers mild perfume or even something with vanilla on it, considering he always works with sweets. well he likes to subvert expectations sometimes.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Jo Malone, WOOD SAGE & SEA SALT

cater commented the same when it's trey's turn for the twistok trend. trey just smiled casually.

his answer to the question is, "[your perfume]" of course.

╰ Cater Diamond ♦

your bff. besties for life. he's the first one you actually really got along with, because his personality resembles a past friend of yours. you two have weekly meet ups at cute cafes or at the mall to chat and gossip about stuff. Oh sevens, mostly gossip actually. you two are the most knowledgeable with gossips and rumors that are floating around NRC and the entire internet in general. if people think their secret is safe with you, no honey, their secret is safe with you AND cater <3. you've definitely used a picture of his side profile or his back, in one of your stories and the internet almost bursted into flames at the prospect of you, the goddess amongst men dating someone. cater later dropped a short behind the scene video of you using instructing him to pose very non-celeb lover like style. the internet almost collapsed for the second time that day.

that original video has tens of millions of views on twistok, you'd have to be living in a rock or a house with bad wi-fi to have not been aware of its existence.

he's kinda chill with it on the outside, but the background of his latest magicam pictures that includes bottles of perfume and a few boxes of a certain women's perfume says otherwise.

if it's his perfume that you answered with he'd be all smug about it, even posting a story holding a full ass brand new bottle of it. but if it's not it's fine ig not, he'd feel indifferent of the matter because his own perfume is actually picked and gifted to him by you <3.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Chanel, PLATINUM EGOISTE

immediately did the trend a day after the video of you doing it was uploaded. he's bummed that he didn't get to do the trend with you first though.

he'd mysteriously winked at the camera after answering, "[your perfume] girls are goddesses, y'all are drop dead gorgeous <3."

╰ Deuce Spade ♠

this doofus is a part of yuu's gang of idiots of course you two are close! you treat him like your little brother at times ouch. deuce often tags along yuu when he visits your sets, he'd only ever seen your neat and crisp appearance when you're in NRC uniform so imagine his gobsmacked face when he saw your disheveled appearance on set (you have to play a captured hostage). he almost called crewel because he knows that his professor would definitely fly into a rage if he saw his precious daughter covered in dirt and soot, ... yuu had to explain to him while you died laughing in the corner. he definitely teared up when he finally saw you acting out a gut wrenching scene for your character. deuce has always believed that you're special beyond your lack of magical prowess and finally he has been proven right.

ace showed him a video, it has clips of the viral one of you doing the twistok trend but the poster added screenshots of the perfumes you mentioned.

if it's not his perfume that you mentioned he definitely deflated a little bit, it's fine though, his mother bought a bunch of perfumes and she gave him his perfume because it's a bundle freebie with hers.

considered changing his perfume to the one you mentioned but he took one look at his wallet and that idea was shut down immediately.

but, if you chose the perfume carolina herrera good girl, he'll definitely malfunction on the spot. because his mom told him that perfume specifically is the partner of his own.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Carolina Herrera, BAD BOY

when cater came up to him asking what his perfume is, he innocently answered. this poor oblivious boy..

he only realized that it's the twistok trend when he saw the video cater posted, he sulked a little bit but did not regret his answer.

he'd blink then say, "Oh, Carolina herrera I think? the pink shoe one. " quite proudly, it's his mom's perfume.

╰ Ace Trappola 🂡

both of you hated each other's guts. considering the fact that you saw him fighting grim and insulting yuu, adding that his brash personality is very much exaggerated to you by the said cat. ace is definitely the least favorite of yours in yuu's band of idiots. this mf also doesn't know how to watch his tone so when he joked about something it sounded more like an insult. but long story short you two get along the second best now. disregarding the fact that you two almost became enemies to lovers got off the wrong foot, you two usually hang out in this quiet spot near the gym whenever he has basketball practice and you need a quiet place to do script readings the tranquility of the area are only ever broken when a loud screeching from floyd would ring from inside the gym.

yeah, yeah, he's seen it. heck! practically everyone has. he'd always be enchanted by your smell but now he knows what perfume to gift you once you ran out of a bottle <3

he'd act so nonchalant about it you wouldn't notice he'd subtly try to change his perfume however like deuce, he took a look at his savings and it said 'nope'!

he'll be a smug fucker if you said his perfume's name tho

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Killian, BLACK PHANTOM

he'd blinked whe cater said the question while simultaneously shoving his phone to his face, then he smirks smugly and say,

"[your perfume], of course" while looking straight to the camera, as if talking to someone.

you're very loved by Heartslabyul, darling! Make sure to not forget to drop by sometimes very soon! they just miss you so much, your busy schedule be damned there will be an unbirthday party next week make sure to wear your best dress, beloved Alice! ~