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rottiens · 10 months ago

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NOCTURNAL WALTZ | RYŌMEN SUKUNA

✮ summary. . when life tries to ruin your dreams you keep trying. you get up, wipe the sweat off and try again, even when you fall… it's either that, or ally yourself with your rival and hope he doesn't drag you down to the bottom of hell with him.

✮ cw. . workplace harassment (not from sukuna), slight possessiveness, slight violence (blood), alcohol consumption, smoking, eventual smut, exhibitionism, choking kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, 18+

✮ tags. . modern + ballet au, enemies to friends to lovers, briefly fake dating, all characters are adults, descriptions used for the reader: fem + afab!, backstory, has hair long enough to tie, wears dress in one scene. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. . 18K

Ever since you were a little girl all you've known to do is dance.

You did it at school performances, you did it at Christmas when your whole family gathered in the living room and the snow fell cold on the tall treetops and red flowers in your garden.

You always remember the scene wistfully and in slow motion, longing for the days that will never return. Your father played the piano and your mother looked on proudly, her hands were always clasped together at chest level watching you with the eyes of an owl making circles with your legs in the air. She always had that expression on her face as if she was afraid you were going to fall, she was always on the edge of her seat, her lips curved into a smile— after all, she was in charge of organizing all your choreography and choosing the songs you were going to dance to, along with your shoes and your outfit. All this was until you were fifteen when you begged her to finally enroll you in a real dance school.

You remember how nervous you were on the first day. You wore your hair pulled back so tight it looked like you were smiling the whole time, your eyebrows stretched and your stomach felt like that Halloween night where you ate so much candy your guts hurt, though all of this was pushed aside the moment you saw the great ballroom.

The walls rose far higher than your little eyes could see. White lights glowed against the beige walls —which your teenager self mentally corrected them later, it wasn't beige, it was salmon, with curtains the color of the peach your mother cut on Sunday mornings— and in the background you could appreciate a melody you knew well since it was your mother's favorite, the one she always chose for you to dance: "dance of the sugar plum fairy."

Training professionally was much more demanding than your mom had told you. You studied in the morning and practiced in the afternoon, your feet hurt all the time in the beginning although with time this became more bearable, however they never stopped hurting because you never stopped practicing.

The lights blinded you for a moment leading you to run away from the incandescent glowing light, causing you to stumble and Sukuna purposely let you fall from his arms so that you kissed the ground.

Your body hits the wooden floor with a dull thud, the live music doesn't stop because of your accident and the director of the ballet claps twice again. It's the signal that the show must go on, it's what the music means that instead of slowing down it rushes to climax, you force yourself to stand up, with a sukuna growling tiredly behind you. No one helps you so you do it alone, you bury your toes in the wood and your injured feet push off the ground and support your weight once more as you rise phoenix-like on your tips.

This is what it takes to be a pro, is what your mother would say if she were alive. You hear her voice loud and strong in your eardrum along with the noise of the music.

One, two and... up!

You hear her ask you for more. Lift your foot more, lift your knees more, straighten your back more. You're trying but—

"You're being too rough," you spit through gritted teeth. Maintaining the fake smile your character must wear.

You know he hears you, yet he remains silent, twisting and turning, holding you above his head and taking one last turn.... Everything seems blurry from your point of view, your stomach churning like a roller coaster even though you don't remember the last thing you ate because this was exactly what you wanted to avoid.

Don't throw up, don't throw up.

You catch the two claps from the director indicating that sukuna should drop you and that's exactly what he does... with a little more force than he should, his hands are loose on your waist, barely gripping you. Your arms stretch, they tremble in the air as does your smile, a cold sweat that shouldn't be there runs down your temples, you feel the salty drops slide over your lower lip and your breathing becomes almost nonexistent, your chest rises and falls and then sukuna lets you go, you are alone, the lights focus completely on you and you hear laughter in the background.

This is the moment where you must do your solo. Spin alone one more time and then let yourself fall. Your feet don't respond at first, you had forgotten your smile, very focused on moving your legs but when you manage to do it you falter again and collapse on the floor with a harder impact than the previous time. Now the music comes to a sudden stop.

You hear him sigh heavily, followed by the fluttering of the sheets of paper in his hand. Kurogawa, the director, puts his glasses on his head like a makeshift headband and slaps his hands once.

Immediately the whole room fills with noise, people start moving. Even your dance partner who although you don't see him, you feel him walking and moving away from you. You have a hard time getting up, this time you really have a hard time. Your body has been beaten to a pulp by the dozens of practices you have carried out these days, your dress and tights hide the bruises that have permeated the floor on them, you carry on your hips sukuna fingers by the force in which he has grabbed you, even so, you do not manage to perform the spin that should come out naturally.

You are a star, this is what you were born to do and this is what you have always done, why can't a dumb spin come out perfectly?

Kurogawa calls your name before you can move further away. You freeze in the middle of the stage, grateful to be away from the spotlight and more in the comfort of the gloom.

You sense his footsteps approaching, with each footstep his heels announce how close he is and your body trembles, your teeth chatter and you force yourself to be still.

"What's the matter?" His voice is neither far nor near.

"I don't..." you force your lip between your teeth before articulating your next words. You can't say you can't.

"I asked you a question." His body is behind you, stopping the draft that touched your back, serving as a wall that exudes warmth and insecurity.

His hand curls around your forearm with some force and makes you turn to see him, his violet eyes are naked, without the glasses he looks much younger, yet a couple of gray hairs escape from the improvised headband reminding you of the age difference.

Kurogawa examines you up and down, his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and you think maybe he notices how dry they are, this prompts you to lick them suddenly.

"Do you want me to switch someone for you? There are dozens of girls who wish they were in your shoes."

"I know, sir." You bite your lip to control your emotions, and swallow the bitter bile rising up your esophagus.

His hand descends from your forearm to the width of your shoulder blades. "I don't think you appreciate it enough." This time he addresses you in a lower tone, he's hunched down to be at your height and the tone he uses would seem like he's telling a secret. His fingers run down the length of your back, you feel his fingers drag the fabric and linger on your lower back. "Is it Ryōmen? Is he the problem?" Then he pulls you closer to his body, this time there is no space between you, his leg is touching yours and his bittersweet breath, the taste of liquor mixed with wilted petals brushes your nose.

"I feel that we are not compatible, sir."

"Ah..." exclaims Kurogawa, still glued to you. "Are you implying that my best student isn't good enough for you?"

"I think..." he was too close for you to even think of anything. You try to see past his shoulders that steal all the light yet there is nothing but darkness, and the chill in your temples moves to your lower abdomen.

“Child... you're lucky your daddy paid a lot of money for you to be here, I don't think there's much talent in you.” Your mascara-filled lashes flutter like the wings of a swan. Your lips part to ask for space, but you're interrupted, he says your name and it's bitter, it sounds disgusting in his throat. “But the untalented ones, they can always do something else, can't they?”

Suddenly, someone calls your name again from the vast darkness behind you.

“Don't keep me waiting. You made me promise to take you home, brat.”

Kurogawa takes a moment to detach himself from you and you inhale in despair, you were drowning in his cheap cologne and alcohol stench. Sukuna is behind him, like a silhouette, you can barely make out his body.

You don't stop to look at the director when you step out of his reach, you don't even do it with Sukuna and run far away from there. The silence that settles in the corridor is terrifying, you feel like running to get away as fast as you can from there, however you try to keep your composure, you tighten the fabric of the tutu looking for some security and comfort in it breathing out of sync and when you manage to reach the street you have to lean back against one of the walls to regain your composure.

You force yourself to breathe through your nose and let it out through your mouth forming a cold mist. The icy breath of the night is a slap of reality that makes your cheeks tingle and your legs and arms are the first to complain about the change in temperature.

Sukuna appears at your side a few seconds later, he says nothing, so you force yourself to lift your head and check his expression. There are wrinkles in his brow and he has his hands tucked in his front pockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him in casual clothes. He had had time to change out of his uniform to replace it with worn blue jeans and a black sweater that has blood red lettering embroidered on the chest.

His presence floods you with the same excitement as the first time you stepped off the plane and the change of weather made your body bristle, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You were scared like a mouse forced out of its burrow. As at that moment, all you needed was a hug. A ghostly force grabs you by the hips and lifts you off the brick wall, throwing you into the arms of your dance partner in search of the comfort you can't seem to find anywhere else these past few days.

Sukuna tenses up at your boldness. You are sobbing into his chest as if someone has passed away. He stands still for a while, allowing your hands to barely touch his hip, while the few passersby watch the peculiar scene, wondering what has happened; after all you are still outside the prestigious ballet academy.

Against all odds, he puts his hand on your back in an unprofessional way, in a way he has never done even dancing with you. His arm floats in the air in a strange and awkward motion until he decides to rest it on your lower back, completely pulling you closer to him. His left arm goes to your shoulder blades squeezing you to his chest completely, giving you a strange comfort that doesn't quite reach friendly.

Excessive tears prevent you from breathing, so you fight the grip and prison that is his ribcage to look up and search his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Your knees give out on you, though with his help you stabilize again. “What was it he said to you?”

You sniffle through your nose. Those red eyes seem to watch every move you make and suddenly, the heat of realization of how close you are begins to climb up your ribs until it sits on your chest.

“Nothing.”

“I saw how close you were. Whatever he said or did to you...” Sukuna pauses, weighing what he will say next. You see him close his mouth and his jaw tenses. “You can trust me, I know there are rumors that he...”

“This is just an allergy,” you interrupt him by clearing your throat.

Sukuna laughs. Not only does he laugh, but he brushes you aside as he bursts out laughing holding his stomach. You cross your arms and pucker your lips, feeling the indignation immediately.

Without saying anything to him and with the wind freezing the salty tears on your cheeks, you turn to walk away from him infuriated with yourself that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with someone like him.

“Brat!” he was still laughing. “Wait...” you hear him trot behind you, until his fingers pull your forearm back to force you to stop. “Your bag.”

When you notice what he's holding in his hands and had probably been carrying on his back, you realize that it was indeed your bag. You would have left it in the room along with your belongings in the locker had it not been for him.

“Thank you,” is all you say, still suspicious of his thoughtfulness.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

As if it were part of a comedy scene, your stomach growls and Sukuna has to cover his mouth to contain his laughter. You look at him accusingly again. When he removes his hand from his face and raises it in submission, he reveals a smile that shows his teeth and fangs, returning to the predatory aura that always surrounds him.

“I'm gonna order sushi to go, you can join me if you want.” The wind makes you hug yourself again, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “It's across the street.”

Ryōmen Sukuna has been a pain in the ass ever since you met him at dance school. Ever since you arrived, all he's done is annoy you: bad-mouth you to your classmates, be rude in your presence, and belittle your work when you were chosen as the principal dancer. Having him here, pretending to care about you and inviting you to dinner, throws you off.

Realizing that you cried into his chest and, worse, were comforted by his touch, makes you feel guilty.

“I don't need your fake kindness.”

Sukuna lets out a snort and mimics you, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you from above, like a superior being marking his position.

“It's just sushi. Don't act like I'm offering you an engagement ring. Just say no.”

“And that's what I said,” you reply with a bark, struggling to maintain your stance and what little courage you'd mustered to stand up to him.

You notice how Sukuna drops his arms and falls silent. Something inside you wants to continue arguing or just talk to someone. When you get “home”, you're just sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting the times your room is illuminated by the lights of the cars passing by on the avenue or swiping on tiktok until you fall asleep.

You try to find an excuse to talk to him again, but you run out of ideas as you see him turn his back to you, checking the road up and down to make sure no vehicles are coming.

“Okay. I'll see you next week,” he says before crossing to the other side.

“Wait...” you call out to him, but Sukuna is about to reach the other sidewalk. He doesn't stop when you call out his name, even though you know he's listening. You step forward and shout again, a little louder this time. “Can you take me home?!”

Sukuna stops and turns slowly. You wish someone could wipe the ridiculous smile off his face and the incredulous expression he has right now. You instantly regret asking for his help.

You both wait patiently for the approaching cars to drive away in opposite directions, leaving you again in silence.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you,” Sukuna mutters, squinting his eyes and bending his body forward a bit.

You check both ends of the road before walking across and finding yourself face to face with him.

“I think I missed the bus,” you mumble hastily, a little embarrassed. “Please,” you add, doubting whether politeness will make any difference on this occasion. After all, you're dealing with Sukuna; you don't think being nice and kind will work with someone like him, so you opt to offer a bribe. “I'm going to pay you.”

“I don't need your money, brat,” he spits as soon as the words are out of your mouth, looking outraged when you look him in the face again.

“Can you stop calling me that?” Sukuna chuckles, clearly amused with a situation that you don't find funny at all. Your life is falling apart to pieces with every passing second, but to him it's a circus. “What's so funny?”

"Are you always so serious? It's a little annoying that you don't know how to take a joke; I wouldn't be surprised if you had no friends."

You want to slap him, even though you know it wouldn't make any difference. You've felt him behind you, leaning against your back, his firm hands holding your hips and helping your movements flow, so a slap on his shoulder would be in vain, it would only make him laugh.

Now you want to slap yourself regretting that you decided to talk to him in the first place, that you showed yourself vulnerable.

“Are you going to take me or not?” you insist.

“Give me your address.” Sukuna pulls his phone out of one of his front pockets and types as you give him the direction. Exactly three seconds later he exclaims, “Are you staying in a motel? I thought you had money.”

You don't know how much more you can take before you explode; you clench your fists some more, trying to contain your anger.

“I don't think that's really any of your business.”

You stand in silence for another while. He checks his phone while you watch him. The sign behind him above your heads is decorated with pink neon lines that flashes forming the name of the restaurant.

Sukuna sighs wearily, catching your attention. “Okay, join me in ordering something to go first.”

Sukuna doesn't wait for you to complain or agree with his proposal before he starts walking ahead of you, his steps slow and unhurried. You decide to follow him at a distance that gives the impression that you are not together.

With an open hand, Sukuna pushes open the transparent door and a bell announces the entrance of new customers. The place is immersed in an elegant and serene atmosphere; the aroma of rice floats freely in the air, filling your hungry stomach that growls for a mouthful of whatever they are cooking. Aside from three girls at the counter taking their orders, there are no customers other than the two of you.

You let Sukuna move on as you stop to admire the details of the place. The walls are painted in warm tones that emulate natural wood, and the ceiling has hanging paper lamps that create soft lighting.

The low murmur of water in a small koi pond in the center of the room catches your attention. You approach and watch the fish swimming freely in the water currents; you bend down to observe one in particular that appears to have a scar on one of its fins. You squint your eyes and move closer to the pond to check if the fish is okay, but at that moment the light of the restaurant is interrupted by the body weight of someone overshadowing it.

When you look up, you find Sukuna scowling at you. You don't understand what that look means and decide not to insist on deciphering it. You straighten up to try to match his height.

“Let's go.”

“So soon?” it seemed like they were waiting for him.

You watch his hands, holding a white paper bag with the restaurant's logo on the top. Then you notice the girls who seem to share a secret as they murmur, barely disguising that they are looking at you.

Sukuna continues to stare at you, so you decide not to say anything else and simply nod at his silent command. You make your way to the door and the bell rings again as you leave the place.

“Where's your car?”

You catch him grinning. Maybe you've said something he finds curious, or maybe he just wants to tease you because he can; being rude seems to come naturally to him after all. You let him lead the way and trace the way as he rummages for some keys in the back of his jeans, all the while heading towards the back of the restaurant.

Suspicious, you look around to make sure there is someone nearby who can help you if necessary. Amazement assaults you as you discover that in the back there is a parking lot, and there, in the middle of the empty spot, you see a bike. It's a shiny, black sportbike with red accents, sleek and modern looking.

The realization dries your throat.

“Is that yours?”

“Yup,” he looks amused and almost proud to actually own such a beautiful and imposing bike. You could taste the teasing tone in his voice and in the way he hurried his footsteps away from you, and you struggled to keep up with him.

Sukuna got on the bike and inserted the keys immediately, while you stood motionless, watching him hold it up with his feet so it wouldn't fall off.

“What are you waiting for?” He didn't have a helmet for himself, much less for you. He wasn't wearing gloves either, and that was perhaps the reason why his hands always felt rough when you had skin-to-skin contact when dancing.

You looked around you, meeting the vast nothingness again, as if you were asking the universe for help.

“I've never been on a bike,” you confessed to him without a filter.

You didn't know what to expect when you blurted that out, but it definitely wasn't Sukuna staring silently at you, stabbing you with those dagger-red eyes.

“So what, are you scared? C'mon, come on up.”

You sighed deeply in surrender and climbed up the bike trying to touch him as little as possible, but always failing on the spot. Sukuna jerked a little along with the bike as you tried to improve your posture behind him, trying to lower what you could of your tutu so it wouldn't fly off when he started driving.

Eagerly waiting for him to pull you away, you slide your hands down his hips and cling to his body in search of a safety that immediately greets you. The engine growls like a beast making your whole body vibrate, you cling tighter to him closing your eyes tight for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“Hold on tight,” he says, at the same time rolling his hand across the throttle.

You crinkle the fabric of his sweater under your fingers clinging to him as if your life depended on it. As he moves forward and picks up speed on the road, you hide your face in his back finding the same security as a few moments ago when you allowed yourself to sob into his chest.

The last thing you expected on a monotonous Thursday night was to end up like this, hugging Sukuna who is the last person you would ask for help, right after having the second worst day of your life. You allow yourself to relax in his presence now that you are not looking at him and now that your thoughts are overpowered by the sound of the wind against your ears.

You don't have time to elaborate any more nostalgic thoughts as Sukuna slows down and you are forced to return to the present, raising your head over his shoulder to check where you are. It was already completely dark when you arrive at the motel, and as you step into the gloom, you make out the dim lights flickering in the distance, indicating the other rooms that must be inhabited by people like you, with no settled place to go or belong.

“You can leave me here,” you indicate speaking slowly, longing for the moment when you can step onto solid ground again and return to the safe space that was your motel room, that even if it smelled like cheap detergent and the green apple spray you bought at the nearby gas station convenience store, you've managed to call home these past few months.

Sukuna obediently stops the bike near room 147 and allows you to get off, without asking questions or making conversation, which surprises you. Discomfort washes over you from your feet covered by ballerina slippers, up your cold legs until it reaches your chest.

“Thank you,” is all you say out of kindness. Instinctively you hug yourself, shrugging your shoulders toward your ears in search of some warmth.

Sukuna looks you up and down, and in his eyes you notice that spark of accusation or perhaps contempt, similar to the one you saw in your father the last time he visited you.

You wait for him to finally say something, after long seconds that feel endless, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance.

“I'm quitting.” You don't know why you say that, your body expels it as an automatic reaction, similar to vomiting after a hangover.

You immediately regret it and turn away. Little interested in what he might say next, you hasten your steps to run away from him and hide in your shelter as soon as possible.

“I thought it was allergies.” Bastard. You grind your teeth, clenching your fists. You don't have the energy to fight him; what little of the mask you put on to pretend you're the perfect woman will soon unravel like Cinderella's spell, and you don't want that to happen while you're arguing with him.

“I thought you were a tough girl.” You hear him yell again, as you try to pretend he doesn't exist. You turn left, in the direction of your room, the last one in the whole row.

“I can help.” Those words slow your steps to a complete stop. It takes you a moment to find the courage to turn around, but you finally do, taking a breath of air and looking him straight in the eye.

The distance between you is about the size of a bus, not much, but enough to look like a pair of cowboys about to have a duel and so that anyone listening can pick up on your discussion thanks to the silence of the night.

“Help with what?” you ask, defiantly.

Sukuna looks up at the sky for a moment, as if the answer is in the clouds. Without looking at you, he replies, “To be less of a dick, maybe.” Asshole. “To teach you how to relax once you're under the lights.”

You fold your arms. “If...?”

He grins, clearly amused with how much he's enjoying the situation, and you want to shout into the wind how much you hate him. Now you understand why he doesn't like you; your personalities are very different. You like the summer, he probably likes the cold. He's always teasing and getting under your skin, while you have to constantly fight not to break. You are polar opposites of different worlds.

“If you help me with something.”

“With what exactly?” you ask almost instantly.

“It's just a favor,” he replies with a shrug.

“What kind of favor?” you insist.

“It's not that kind of favor,” he says with a gesture of annoyance.

“What's in it for you?”

“Can't I help a partner?”

You're tired of playing this game. It's clearly draining your time and energy. You appreciate that he brought you home and behaved with the slightest decency you would expect from an empathetic human being seeing someone cry, but you've had enough. You turn to leave, feeling it's not worth wasting any more time on this. You plan to sleep thinking about your decision and send a letter to the director tomorrow morning. With what little money you have left, you hope to travel back to your home country.

“I need help with my grandfather.” It's as if Sukuna drops a hook that your innocence fishes for. You're not sure what he's referring to, but your curiosity compels you to turn once more and face him. This time, you close the distance with each new unsure step.

Watching you walk towards him, Sukuna continues. “Monthly he sends fish to Yokohama. The guy who was helping me quit a few months ago, so I've had to do it alone, which is a pain in the ass,” he runs a hand through his tousled hair from the trip, seemingly remembering.

“Why me?”

“Don't think you're special,” he grumbles with a growl, reflecting on what he just said, he adds. “What I mean is, it's a favor for a favor. I'll tutor you on how to improve as a dancer, and you help me with the fish. It's a win-win.”

You hate the idea of training alone with him almost as much as working moving fish, or whatever it is you're going to do, but...that was the only choice you had. It was either this or actually quit and go home empty-handed, face your failure and your father, and break the promise you had made to your mother before she died. Besides, with Sukuna as a sort of watchdog working with you you think maybe Kugawara wouldn't bother you again, though the thought of it happening again makes your skin crawl.

You nod finally, averting your gaze to your feet for a moment. “Okay. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow I'll come by and pick you up around 3:30. We'll do the fish delivery and then we can practice.”

“Okay.”

“Be on time 'cause I hate waiting,” he snorts.

Maybe working with Sukuna wasn't such a bad idea after all. You spend all day cooped up in that old motel room, watching the cars go by and waiting for the time and days when you have to go train again. It's boring to be stuck in there doing nothing but waiting for the days to pass, so the idea of visiting another city, seeing new places and maybe discovering more about who Ryōmen Sukuna was seems appealing to you; you can't deny it.

There's so much mystery surrounding him that you can't help but be drawn in.

Fri. 4/14 • 5:50PM —

You mentally cross out what you thought the night before and wish yesterday's version of you had thought more or at least asked more questions before blindly agreeing. Working with Sukuna was terrible, much worse than you imagined before you fell asleep. You hated the fishy smell permeating your clothes, rather, clothes you borrowed from Sukuna belonging to the boy who quit earlier. The uniform was baggy and threadbare: the faded blue T-shirt had sweat stains and stale smell, while the pants are baggy, a bit long and a dull gray color, with a loose belt to adjust the size.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand after putting the last box of fish in the restaurant's freezer and being thankful to be done with everything for the day. You restrain yourself from complaining to Sukuna for not making it clear to you exactly what work you would be doing because after all it had been your fault for not asking and trusting unquestioningly. As you bite the inside of your cheek to control your tongue, you realize that inside the colors and patterns are the same as the sushi restaurant across the street from the academy, which makes you think they are probably from the same brand.

Outside, the clear Yokohama sky shows a bright sun toasting your cheeks as Sukuna finishes signing papers behind you. The change of season has the weather undecided, on the verge of leaving winter behind; some spring mornings are warm and the nights, cold.

His shoes clack against the pavement as he approaches you. With a light tap on your forearm, you hear him chuckle, following it up with, “Who knew? I didn't know you could carry so much weight.”

He doesn't wait for your response and continues on his way to the white truck. With your eyes narrowed and your feet begging you for a break, you walk to the waiting, lit truck and slam the door shut. Being in the cold air, with your sore feet now stretched out should feel more comforting. You're protected from the sun's rays and its warmth, and the spicy apple air freshener is pleasant enough to make you forget that it's spring. However, the situation is not entirely delightful for you.

Sukuna next to you seems immune to the silence that you find so uncomfortable. You take a quick glance at him and find him staring down the road as he drives back to town. He has one hand curled around the steering wheel and the other resting on his leg. His uniform is different from yours; his consists of an impeccable white shirt and blue pants tailored to fit him navy blue, on the left side at chest height he has the restaurant's name written on it.

Now that his shirt sleeves are rolled up, you can make out the tattoos on his wrist: two thick black rings run along his skin. Being so close to him and noticing the black ink permeating the skin makes you wonder if they hurt him much. The thought that he probably has more tattoos on areas of his body that you can't see thanks to the clothing comes into your head, but you'd rather push that image away and look straight ahead.

Traffic is moving slowly, with seas of vehicles coming and going on a dual carriageway Sukuna has to slow down every so often because the cars stop which makes you understand that you will be stuck here for a while. Bored with the silence and not wanting to be the first to speak, you take the liberty of turning on the radio, jumping from station to station before finding one that plays old romantic music.

Sukuna makes a snorting sound, prompting you to look directly at him. When your gazes meet, you'd rather ignore the feeling in your stomach and the cocked grimace you manage to notice on his lips before he undoes it.

“What?” you ask him, surprised that your tone doesn't sound as dismissive as usual. “I can find another station if...”

“It's my grandfather's favorite,” he confesses to you quietly. “That one's fine.”

Your fingers slowly move away from the radio, processing what he's confessed to you and considering that this might be a window into getting to know him better.

“You said you were helping him — is this his business?”

Sukuna hums as if weighing the words, tapping the steering wheel a couple of times. “Yes.”

You blink slowly. “Do you guys have a lot of time in the market?”

“Yes,” he repeats again and you fill your lungs with the smell of spicy apple and his subtle cologne.

You resign yourself to having a monosyllabic conversation with him so you press your lips together and rest your chin on your hand looking out the window. From where you are, you can admire the horizon and the still blue water being illuminated by the intimate rays of afternoon sun. Seagulls circle the shore and you imagine their deep song filling the bay.

“I can't remember the last time I went to the beach.” You wanted to dip your feet in the water, let the waves massage them from side to side, feel the sand between your toes and the sun warming your skin—

“Honestly, me neither. Since I've been working with fish, the beach seems less exciting to me, I don't know if that makes sense.”

You look at him, did you just say that out loud? Sukuna watches you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. You contemplate him longer than you need to before looking straight ahead again and watching the traffic move a little faster than before.

“Have you guys always worked with this?” you perk up to ask again, still keeping your gaze straight ahead.

“Seafood?” he seems to think, humming aloud. “The restaurant has been in the family for as long as I can remember. So...yeah.”

“That's strange. I never would have imagined you doing this kind of work.”

“Why?” he chuckles, as if sharing a secret with himself.

“You're so good at dancing,” you admit, giving him a fleeting glance. “I didn't think you do anything more than that.”

“The best,” he instantly corrects you and you physically force yourself not to roll your eyes.

“I thought you were a spoiled rich kid.”

You turn to catch him grimacing in annoyance. Clearly, he was conflicted about what you had just said.

“I like to dance, but I've always worked hard since I was little. Everything I know and everything I do I learned from my grandfather.”

“It's just the two of you?”

You notice him frowning and speed up quickly before the light turns red. His lips open, but before he can respond, he stops the truck abruptly causing the boxes in the back to rampage and crash into each other as Sukuna shouts insults at the bicyclist who sped in front of him.

You admire him for a while longer: pursed lips, furrowed brow and hands tense around the wheel. Then, you turn your gaze ahead to catch the cyclist fleeing in front of you at full speed, now barely a distinguishable silhouette. Wasting no time, Sukuna sets off down the road again as you wonder what it was he was going to answer. Now, curiosity towards him beckons you that much more.

As Sukuna turns at an intersection to return to Tokyo, you mentally review the information you have about him:

He really loves his grandfather, of that you are left in no doubt since he is the person he mentions the most, he is the only person he talks about in fact. Also, does he cook? You make a mental note of that with a question mark next to it because you're not sure if he just drives the truck or if he really knows how to cook. Third and probably most important, he's not as bad a person as you thought he was. Yes, you still feel like fighting with him and contradicting him at the slightest argument, but that's because of resentment built up over the months. If you were meeting him today for the first time or even if you actually worked for him, you would be encouraged to recognize him as introverted at best, which makes you wonder if the person you see in the academy is just part of the show. Could this be his true personality? And what else is hidden underneath the mask?

The rest of the trip passes in silence as you immerse yourself in your thoughts and theories. The radio station gradually changes from romantic music to more danceable current pop songs, causing you to hum all the way and move your body gently to the melody.

“Are you too tired?” asks Sukuna, once you are on the main road into town.

“Yeah. Why?” you grumble with a grunt, stretching your arms above your head and swinging your feet in circles.

He nods, pondering. “I'll take you to the motel then. We can train later.”

“Oh, no. I'm ready to start today.”

Suddenly, you don't feel so tired when it comes to dancing. You don't want to wait any longer to start practicing and improving, and the truth is, the longer you go without improving, the faster the day of the final presentation comes.

Sukuna pulls into the parking lot of a tall building, moving inside the place illuminated by white lights until he comes to a complete stop next to the bike that you instantly recognize as his.

You get off the truck first with your bag slung over your shoulder, shake your feet again and perform brief stretches as you wait for Sukuna who passes by you walking certainty towards the elevator; you follow him like his shadow.

“You live here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought we were going to practice,” you say, wondering if his apartment will have enough space.

“We will.”

“But...”

“Have you been told you ask too many questions?”

You fall silent as you stand inside the elevator and he presses a button that immediately turns gold, the elevator jolts smoothly and begins to slowly travel through each floor until it reaches number ten. The doors open along with a soft chime, and Sukuna is the first to step out guiding you to his floor.

The apartment complex is modern and elegant. The walls are adorned with dark wood paneling and a floor made of synthetic fur. Sukuna walks confidently down the hallway and you follow him noting the numbered doors with sleek steel plates. When you reach the door to his apartment, he takes his keys out of his pocket and inserts them into the lock opening the door with a quiet click.

He invites you in first with a nod and as you do so you find a well-decorated and tidy space, perhaps somewhat different from what you had imagined. The polished wood floor is covered by a neutral-toned carpet; the room has contemporary furniture and a wall adorned with framed photographs.

You discreetly observe your surroundings, longing to linger a little longer observing the photographs on the wall and get to know his family, however Sukuna keeps moving in front of you without giving you time to get a chance to do so.

“I knew you were a rich kid...”

He chuckles softly. “Come.” Sukuna guides you into a hallway and stops in front of a wooden door. “Shower,” he instructs you as he sees your confusion, struggling not to flash another one of those smiles you'd grown accustomed to. “You stink of fish. Get changed, I'll be waiting for you on the terrace.”

A bitter resistance dies on your tongue. The lingering smell of raw fish clings to your clothes like an unwanted shadow. You decide not to protest that just this once he is right and instead turn your back on him, clinging to your bag as you walk into the bathroom.

You decide to take a quick shower using the first liquid soap you find on top of the sink, scrubbing your body with your hands and quickly wetting your hair to freshen it up a bit, making a note to wash it properly when you get to the motel.

When you're done, you emerge from the bathroom in one of your practice outfits that fits snugly to your body for flexibility. You tie your hair up in a high bun so it won't bother you and head with determination towards the terrace where Sukuna was waiting for you.

The sunset tints the sky with reddish hues, creating a celestial spectacle among the clouds. The terrace is decorated with potted green plants and comfortable armchairs with cushions piled at the back, leaving enough space to move around without bumping into furniture.

Dim lights hang from the ceiling, subtly illuminating the space. And in the background, soft instrumental music plays, similar to what the academy plays. Sukuna is sitting stretching his legs out on the floor in a V-shape, and with a barely perceptible gesture of his lips, he invites you to join him and imitate his movements. He bends his body gracefully and at will, and you do your best to keep up as good as you can.

Then, he stands gracefully and offers you his hand, drawing you to his chest.

“Your problem is that you don't trust me. You don't trust that I'm going to hold you when you jump...” You're ready to respond, but your lips seal when he continues. “So we need to fix that.”

The way he says it makes you shudder; you don't want to give in, but you know you have no choice now.

To the beat of the music, Sukuna wraps his hand around your waist and you mimic his steps— circles, one... two... until he stops and asks you to jump, but you hesitate, visibly trembling in his arms.

“Trust me,” he asks you with a serene exhale.

“I can't,” you reply, wetting your dry lips. Sukuna follows each stroke of your tongue before returning to your eyes, where the lashes fuss uneasily.

“You have to trust me as much as I trust you.”

Yet inside you, feelings of doubt and fear linger, like foolish specters whispering in your ear. You feel overwhelmed, not only by the pressure and responsibility on your back but by the closeness of your bodies, there is no space between your chests and if he leans in a little closer you could taste his breath.

“I can't,” you stammer, pulling away from him. “I think it was a bad idea to come,” you admit truthfully, letting your worries slip out loud.

Without you moving further away, his hands hold your wrist firmly making you spin around, and your tiptoed feet respond at once. He holds you still close to him, your back pressed against his chest rocking to the rhythm of the instruments.

“Jump.” Your heart races and you decide to close your eyes to concentrate on the drums pounding against your ribs, on the breath tangling in your lungs. His hands move up and down your waist, go to your ribs where he feels your heaving breath expand his palms. “Take a deep breath,” he speaks sweetly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. “I'm not going to let you fall this time. I swear.”

You take a deep breath processing the words. could you really trust his promise? You feel his hands come back down to your waist and with the help of his hands exerting pressure, you jump up and he gracefully lifts you above his head. For an instant, you contemplate the city stretching out beneath your feet, like a blanket of light and shadow. Your arms spread like wings, and a spontaneous laugh escapes your lips as the wind caresses your skin. Gently, Sukuna lowers you to the ground once again and you watch a proud smile form on his face.

Together, the two of you capture the sunset from the terrace, sharing that ephemeral moment in silent complicity.

When you finish practicing about three more times, you find yourself lying on the ground, breathing shakily as you watch the sky dotted with bright spots. Sukuna has disappeared inside his apartment, turning on the lights and returning with a bottle of water that he kindly offers you.

“Thank you,” you say, immediately popping the bottle into your mouth.

“You're not too bad,” Sukuna comments with his usual calmness, though beads of sweat on his forehead betray his exertion. It's obvious why he's Kurogawa's top student.

“I really mean it. Thank you.”

Sukuna averts his gaze for a moment before turning back to you. “Are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks instead.

“I'm fine...,” you reply, finally getting up from the floor and dusting off your clothes with your hands.

“I hope you're eating something better than soda and canned food at that stinky motel.”

You both share a knowing chuckle, your gazes intertwined for a moment.

“No promises,” you say, raising your hands to chest level. “But I have to go now. Thanks for everything, again,” you add, taking another long drink of water.

“Do you need a ride?” offers Sukuna.

“I'll get an uber.”

Sukuna nods, walking you to the door where he waves you off with a friendly smile.

What the hell was that all about? And why are you about to throw up your heart?

Sat. 4/14 • 6:32 pm —

The second week training with Sukuna has been a revelation. You've gotten used to the smell of fish that you now find less unbearable, to getting up early before the alarm goes off, and you've even gotten used to the horrible oversized uniform you have to wear, but above all, you've gotten used to Sukuna's presence and his training sessions that bring you closer and closer together. Of course, you have improved remarkably. Sukuna is a born teacher and could surpass Kurogawa when he decides to retire. He knows just what to say to make you feel comfortable in your own skin and relax in his arms, which he has succeeded in doing.

As you get to know him better, you realize that he is not the image you had created in your head. He is considerate and has managed to get you to open up to him a little more, tearing down the shell of animosity you had raised. Before, you were fighting a non-existent battle against him, a fight to be the best that now you only keep against yourself.

With the descent of disdain for him came something more.... Appreciation? Admiration, perhaps? You don't want to acknowledge what that emotion is. For now, you cling to the idea that you can be friends, that you could become good friends in time.

With the practices and the unofficial ones you do with your dance partner, your steps become more natural, loose and fluid. Soon, your movements will resemble those of the fantastic swan you are meant to emulate.

Sukuna spins you around with the climax of the violins resounding above you. Thanks to constant practice on his terrace he manages to lift you into the air with ease, getting you for the first time to not hesitate and leap gracefully into his arms which gets you a round of applause from your colleagues, drawing a proud smile on your face. Your chest is pounding, you feel the excitement in the darkness of the theater and, in a far corner, you can glimpse the ghost of your mother clapping proudly. You were really going to make it.

Sukuna helps you touch the floor once more, and because of the intimacy required for the final scene, your faces are inches apart. The sound of muffled applause, the circular spotlight that focuses on you exclusively, and the scent of his cologne (a subtle blend of woody and citrus notes that awakens your senses), make the moment far more intimate than the scene requires.

Unsure if this is still part of the performance, Sukuna brushes the tip of his nose against yours before finally pulling away, leaving you drifting beside him and depriving you of his body heat. Slow clapping comes from the background in the gloom, and you walk away from Sukuna taking long strides as if you've been caught committing a crime, your hands sweaty and your stomach clenched.

“That was much better,” Kurogawa says, praising you both, though he looks directly at you. “A wonderful presentation.”

“Thank you,” Sukuna replies, and you feel him tense beside you as he holds the director's gaze that's still resting on you like a predator.

“Though you still have a lot of room for improvement,” Kurogawa says, looking straight at you. Your lips tighten into a straight line, feeling some disappointment in your chest.

“I think she's doing very well,” Sukuna interjects, looking Kurogawa up and down before exhaling like a raging bull.

Kurogawa watches Sukuna and then clicks his tongue.

“Ryōmen, can you remind me who the director of the ballet is and who is recognized as the best male category ballet dancer in the entire country?” Sukuna falls silent, and you are unable to ignore his clenched jaw. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”

Sukuna exhales and replies sarcastically. “You are, sir.”

“That's what I thought,” he replies, savoring the victory, still keeping his eyes on you. “So when I say something needs to get better, it's because it's going to get better. You can all go..., my little swan, you stay a few minutes with me, we need to talk.”

Sukuna's eyes are pulled from the director to fall on you. Under the spotlight you notice his red eyes become darker, dark ink spills into them and at the same time his half closed eyelids give him the aura of a feline. You nod, assuring him wordlessly that you will be fine.

The room gradually becomes empty, you are the only ones present. Kurogawa tucks himself back into the darkness while you stand under the burning light of the spotlight that seems to glow now brighter than ever. Suddenly, the sound of the piano climbs the walls again and makes your skin tingle.

“Again,” he orders you.

Immediately you put your back straight facing the theater seats. Your feet automatically tiptoe, your arms move in the air, move up your body and stop above your head. Your movements are much more fluid and you can feel it; you are more flexible than before or maybe you always have been and all you needed was a little push. A vote of confidence.

The thought that you will have your little ritual with Sukuna tomorrow (he cooks for you after you help him deliver the fish and after your practice), puts a smile on your face and helps you relax, ignoring the presence of Kurogawa who follows you with his sharp eyes every time you move.

The clacking of his shoe heels tells you he's getting closer, and a subtle sense of dread comes over you as you wonder what Kurogawa might be thinking or planning.

“Are you two dating?” He asks suddenly, wrapping his hands around you behind your back in imitation of the role Sukuna plays.

"I don't have to justify my personal life, sir." Your reply is quick and sharp, cutting through the awkward tension.

He laughs dryly. “Because that would be a problem. I wouldn't allow my lead dancers to have an affair, that would be problematic.” He steps closer to you undoing the space between you and grabs your waist from behind, you instantly pull away looking at him with your eyebrows together. “Hold still.” He steps closer again, you take another step back, about to be engulfed by the darkness.

“Sir...”

He pauses under the spotlight, his few gray hairs and greasy locks gleaming in the direct brightness. The light highlights the deep lines of his face, accentuating his intense, commanding expression. His piercing gaze seems to cut through you as he calls out your name.

“Come here. Let me show you what you're doing wrong,” Kurogawa says in a tone that combines authority and criticism.

“I think I'm doing a good job,” you insist, trying to maintain your composure.

“Oh, you think Ryōmen is a better teacher than I am? He's been putting ideas into your head?” he asks wryly.

“I mean no disrespect, but...” you start to say, but you're interrupted.

“Girl,” he says with disdain, “Come here.”

“No,” you reply firmly, burying your feet on the stage.

The director smiles mischievously. “The cat is showing her claws, I see,” he mutters. “You know he's no good for you?” he continues. “So if you're sentimentally involved...I'm afraid I'll have to degrade you both from being the lead dancers.”

You sense that his threats make you feel lightheaded. “You wouldn't do that,” you say with a hint of desperation.

“Be a good girl then.”

“We'll present in exactly two weeks, no one can take my place,” you defend yourself, looking for an excuse that will convince you more than him that he can't do this.

“Mei-Ling is ready. We've been... practicing,” he says with a lopsided grin that makes you cringe.

“You're disgusting,” you reproach him, unable to keep pretending that standing here in front of him listening to his innuendos doesn't have your body chilling.

“You have no idea,” Kurogawa replies, widening a mischievous smile. “Now...”

He approaches you with clear intentions of touching you, you look around for something you can defend yourself with or someone who can come to your aid but the room was empty, there was only you there. You keep shuffling your feet until you run into the wall, until the darkness has covered you both and all you can see is his macabre smile.

Kurogawa reaches out to grab you when Sukuna's voice startles you. He says your name for the first time and you look over the director's shoulder to see him on the other end in casual gray joggers and a white t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” he asks looking directly into your eyes and for a moment it's just the two of you.

Your voice breaks and you can't answer him, but your desperate look tells him everything he needs to know.

“This is private training, Ryōmen. You may leave now.”

Still he pays no heed. He advances towards you with the bag where he kept his clothes hanging from his left shoulder, sukuna stops and plants himself next to you; his arms embrace your shoulders and he sticks you to his body. “Do you wanna leave?” He asks, looking up at you directly.

“Yes.” You reply without hesitation or pausing to look at the director.

“Ow look at that? Isn't that romantic?” he laughs dryly, clapping his hands together sarcastically. “Long live lovers, right? From hate to love is only one step, I guess.”

Sukuna ignores Kurogawa's words, removing his hand from your shoulders to take yours and lead you away. Surprise flashes across your face, but his warm grip turns the initial coldness into a comforting sensation, making your heart race in your chest. You don't resist and squeeze his fingers tightly as you pull away.

The man laughs louder again, turning to look at you just as you reach the small stairs that would lead you off the stage. “Don't even bother coming back, you're fired,” he shouts arrogantly.

You search Sukuna's eyes to make sure he's feeling the same fear you are. For a moment, doubt crosses your eyes and you consider turning around and apologizing as the only option in this situation. But Sukuna avoids your gaze, releasing your hand to address the director.

“If you have something to say, say it now,” Kurogawa spits with a triumphant smile on his face.

Sukuna climbs the stairs again, leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the steps. His movements seem more imposing under the contrasting lights, and as he approaches the principal, you can see Kurogawa's smile widen in pleasure.

Sukuna takes a deep breath, running a hand through his pink hair to pull it back before turning and connecting a closed fist against the director's jaw. Kurogawa falls to the ground, coughing and wiping blood from a split lip. There is hatred and resentment in his eyes as the two men stare at each other for a moment, right before Kurogawa spits out blood mixed with saliva that was pooled in his mouth.

In that moment of tense silence, you stand watching in horror, both hands covering your mouth. Sukuna spits towards the ground and then turns away, wiping his hand and knuckles. He walks past you and with a hand on your lower back, guides you out of there.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Sukuna mutters.

“Are we just...?” you try to say, but Sukuna interrupts you.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. You nod, unable to say much more. “That's all I care about,” Sukuna concludes as you walk away from the place.

You didn't want to go back to the motel. With your dreams crushed so easily in front of you, the last thing you want is to be alone with your self-destructive thoughts and a judgmental memory. The director always seemed a little strange to you and now you tag the way he approaches you as unprofessional but you never thought he could go to the extreme of cornering you like that; however, seeing him lying on the floor, bleeding, brings accusatory thoughts into your head that you want to erase. Your memories betray you showing you more blood than there really was. In his eyes was written pure revenge, you knew that with his influence only one mail was enough to destroy both your career and your life. You don't want to think about the consequences of your actions; at least not tonight, not now. So when Sukuna asks where you want to go and you reply that you don't know, he decides to take matters into his own hands and take you on a bike ride around the city. Neither says anything else and you ask no questions, letting the vibrations of the engine and his body under your fingers make you feel safe.

Your cheek is crushed against his broad back, clinging to his waist as much as you can as you watch the lights of the city and its tall buildings go by like flashes. People come and go and your heart sinks a little in your chest each time Sukuna's fingers roll easily across the throttle. Water pools in your heavy eyelashes and you can't decide if it's from the wind or if it's just sadness and the pile of bitter disappointment you force yourself to swallow.

Sukuna stops at a gas station, you wait leaning against the bike while he pays and buys some sweets that he silently passes to you as an offering. You open the colorful wrapper and pop the chocolate into your mouth, chewing silently as you are distracted by the dust clinging to his boots.

“Do you wanna go to my place?” The question surprises you and his voice invites you to look at him, back to the present. You notice his face and are distracted by the soft pout that forms his lips unconsciously. In the short time you've known each other, you've noticed it's something he does often. A habit.

You assume that you are friends now. You find the situation and the question ironic. If an oracle had told you about eight months ago that you'd be taking bike rides with Sukuna, clinging to his back like a baby koala bear, driving with him every day out of town while jamming karaoke in his fish-smelling truck and hanging out at his apartment, you'd never have believed it.

Finally, you shake your head in affirmation, taking another bite of the bar.

“I hate that motel,” you confess, covering your mouth.

“I know. It smells like a shoe, I don't know how you can live there.”

You regret letting him into your humble room. Everything was tidy and perfectly sprayed with that green apple spray you depend on so much now, but you still saw him pinching his nose with two fingers and commenting on the stench. You'd complained before, of course, and the owner told you he'd move you to another room as soon as it became available, but now that was the only one you could be in; the room is at the back, next to the laundry room and the damp lurks through the walls, ending up sitting in the middle of your floor.

“Hey!” It really did smell awful, but it wasn't funny when others made fun of it. “It's all I can afford for now. Sorry I'm not rich like you.”

“I thought you were rich,” he says, playing with his bruised knuckles as the numbers on the screen behind him keep going up.

“Not anymore,” you confess, distant memories of your life coming back to you in a flash. “My father refuses to help me with academy expenses, he sees it as a waste of money and time, and I guess he's right. I only have enough to live for two more months there, I was looking forward to the ballet performance but now…” Your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

You notice how he leans over to gently tap you on the shoulder with the same hand that punched Kurogawa earlier.

“We're going to fix it, brat. No long faces while I'm around.”

You contemplate him a while longer in silence as you finish eating the chocolate bar and clench the wrapper in your fist to throw it in the trash when you're at his apartment. Once the tank is full, you roll back down the road and seven minutes later you are in the warmth of his apartment.

You take off your shoes as you enter and head straight to the living room after Sukuna asks you to sit down and he goes straight to the kitchen. You take the opportunity to look at the various photographs on the bluish wall that you have always wanted to see up close but he has never let you: a small Sukuna clutching a baseball bat smiles at the camera, his hair tousled as if it's been a windy day, and his hands tightly wrapped around the bat. There's another where he's with who you assume is his grandfather in front of the restaurant near the academy, clutching a fish that's bigger than both of them which makes you chuckle under your breath. In the last one, there's him and another boy who looks very like him, both wearing thick coats with faux fur edges and looking at the camera with surprised expressions.

“Your brother?” you ask as you hear his bare feet moving across the floor and, turning to face him, you find him with two plates full of sushi rolls in his hands. “Thank you,” you smile at him, sliding onto the couch.

“Be careful not to drip the sauce on my couch, brat,” he jokes. You want to complain about the not-so-pleasant name he calls you by, but you keep silent, hiding the sense of longing that overwhelms you as you want to hear him say your name again. “And my nephew,” he quickly points to the picture before disappearing back into the kitchen. “It was the first time we went to New York.”

You take another quick glance at the picture and grab the wooden chopsticks next to your plate.

“Nephew... So you have siblings?” You ponder, pinching a sushi roll between your chopsticks and bringing it to your mouth, careful at all times not to drop anything on the couch. For how neat the place looks, you know he's not kidding when he warns you that he doesn't want any stains on his couch.

Sukuna returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, as he carefully sets them on the coffee table.

“I'm not going to drink,” you quickly excuse yourself.

“Come on, let's celebrate that we don't have practice tomorrow.”

His humor helps you cope a little. You press your lips together in a straight line that gradually turns into a sad smile and finally nod, giving your permission for him to pour the white wine for both of you. You grab the glass without further thought and take a long drink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“And... um,” he clears his throat, taking a seat next to you to get ready to eat as well. “I had a brother. I lost him and my parents in an accident when they were on their way from Kyoto to see me dance last year.”

The news makes you frown and you set the cup aside immediately, showing your concern. Sukuna seems immune; anyone who didn't know him would say he's over it, that he doesn't care, but you've learned to see past the mask he usually shows himself to others with. Hesitantly, you put your hand on his leg in comfort and something inside you waits for him to push it away, only it never happens. He looks down at your touch for a moment before returning to your eyes.

“I'm so sorry.”

His shoulders shrug and he finally relaxes. “At least I have my grandfather for now.”

You nod, understanding how bitter the situation is as it's easy to put yourself in his shoes.

“I'm really sorry. I lost my mother too; she had a medical condition that had no cure. Her dream was always to see me dance at a professional academy.”

“Is that why you traveled to Japan?” asks Sukuna before popping a sushi roll into his mouth.

“Yeah. But I guess it doesn't matter now.”

“I told you we're going to fix it,” Sukuna says and now it is him placing his hand on your thigh intimately. You watch as his fingers spread over your skin, noticing the veins running down the back of his hand and the thick tattoos surrounding his skin.

“You punched him in the face,” you look away from his fingers to force yourself to look him in the eyes, both of you sharing a brief chuckle. “How can we fix this?”

Sukuna is no longer touching you and his absence is immediately felt.

“We can report him,” he suggests.

“They won't listen to us,” you reply.

“Not with that attitude.”

You look away from him for a moment, toward your plate and the half-empty cup. You grab it and raise it to your mouth to wet your throat.

“Thank you... for everything,” you say sincerely, swirling the glass so that the liquid spirals against the glass.

“I should never have left you alone,” Sukuna admits.

“But you came back for me. That's the important thing,” you reply, restraining yourself from touching him again. Instead, you take a last sip of wine that serves to drown out thoughts of what would have happened if no one had arrived in time.

With banal conversations filling the space from time to time and laughter over jokes that aren't even that funny; you both finish eating.

With two glasses of wine drunk and now Sukuna pouring a third everything seems funnier than usual. The sting of the pain of having lost everything you've built is buried there waiting to make you ache and although you know Sukuna feels it too, he manages to disguise it very well, spending all his energies on making your night.

“Stop it,” you tell him with a laugh, squinting to fix your eyes closely on his face. “You've got something there.” You point to a part of your own cheek with a finger, smoothing the skin and wiggling your fingers for him to do the same.

“Where?” he asks, pulling his eyebrows together, touching the wrong part of his face.

“Look, here!” you point to your cheek again with more emphasis, but he still misses.

“Wipe it off for me. What is it?”

“It's just soy sauce, you messed it up more.”

You lean a little closer to wipe the sauce stain next to his nose, carefully rubbing the skin by moving your thumb over it until it's clean. You smile at him, you just need to wash your face now, as you turn your attention back to him you realize he is blatantly looking at your lips.

“Later,” he says softly, licking his lips slowly and alarms go off in your brain.

“It'll get sticky if you don't go,” you reply mimicking his tone, struggling not to notice his mouth and how close you are.

Sukuna slowly makes himself move his gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Still close, you can notice the alcohol on his breath, his scent of cologne tickling your stomach.

“I never understood why you disliked me so much,” he blurts out suddenly, almost in a whisper.

“Are you serious?” you pull away before you do something you shouldn't, the tingling sensation of alcohol probably making you see things that aren't there. “Everything you talked about me?” He arches an eyebrow, showing confusion. “You were saying I should go back to my country...”

“Yeah, because you were saying I had no talent. And who did you think you were?” he defends himself, getting defensive. With that expression that he instantly erases almost makes you remember the Sukuna from the past.

“I never said that.” You defend yourself.

Silently, you both let the weight of realization sink in, sharing a silent stare.

“Kurogawa.” You respond in unison.

“Fuck him,” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. You want to reproach him, but honestly?

“Yeah, fuck him.” Then you both laugh.

Silence reigns between you again, squeezing like an intruder between the little space that separates your bodies on the couch.

“Are you staying the night?” Sukuna suddenly blurts out, giving you a sideways glance.

“Um, no?” That makes him look at you completely, analyzing you as if you've just said something barbaric.

“I can't ride like this,” he comments with obviousness.

“That's fine, I'll get an uber.”

“I don't trust an uber to send you like that.”

You don't trust yourself around him, you don't trust what your numb senses can do or say, so the farther away you are from him, the better it is for both of you.

“Like what? I'm almost sober,” you say, squeezing a space with your index finger and thumb leaving a small gap in between. “Besides... I know how to defend myself.” To reaffirm your sentence and validate your sobriety, you stand up to take a brief turn but fate is ironic and trips you over your own feet; in an instant your mouth is about to kiss the ground. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, preparing to receive a stinging pain that never comes, instead, you are welcomed into an embrace that fills you with security.

“Fuck. You're so drunk,” Sukuna says with a laugh, helping you to your feet.

You open one eye. “Sorry, I don't usually drink.” You close it again, massaging with your fingers the sudden dizziness that squeezes your temples. “Maybe I am a little dizzy.”

“I can tell that,” he says. “You should have told me.”

“Um, I did.” You open your eyes now realizing how intimate you are. Your open palms on his chest rise and fall with his agitated exhale and the tension weighs heavy. His hands are on your lower back in a sort of embrace that holds you close to him and keeps you from running away, and you wouldn't even if you could. You hear your own breathing quicken in your ears, and without thinking, you lean in to kiss him but Sukuna lifts his chin avoiding you and kissing your forehead instead.

“Come on, I'll take you to bed.”

Sat. 4/15 • -:- am—

You wake up with a slight headache pulsing in your temples and the sharp spicy smell of a perfume you don't recognize as your own. Still with your eyes closed, you turn your body to reach for the phone on the bedside table, you stretch your fingers in search of it, but your hands can't seem to find the nightstand, so you struggle to blink slowly and finally open your eyes completely. The unusual darkness confuses you a bit and makes you wonder what time it is; the sun should be penetrating the motel windows intensely at this hour, so you curiously sit up in bed. You look for your phone under the pillow, between the sheets and in every nook and cranny your hands can reach on the mattress.

It is at that moment when you notice the different color of the sheets and the four pillows around you, making you realize that this is not your bed, nor is this your room. Looking at your legs you realize that you are still dressed in last night's clothes, then you remember Sukuna. Your eyes scan the room in the absence of light — were you in his room or maybe he had another guest room? You pull the sheet off your legs and head to the window to open the black curtains and let the sun finish waking you up.

The lively view of the city greets you from below, cars come and go on the fast moving highway. With the help of the light now illuminating every corner, you take another look at the room and find out that this was probably his: the space is spacious and modern, following the same style as the living room with a minimalist decoration. The walls are a light gray and in front of the bed there is an elegant glass desk with an office chair. On top of the desk, there is a closed laptop and some tidy papers.

The bed is bigger than the one in the motel and is covered with black sheets, next to it a closet with the doors made of a mirror in which you see yourself perfectly reflected, you try to fix your hair as much as you can in case you find him when you go out looking for your phone, but by the prevailing silence makes you aware that Sukuna was probably not at home.

You find your phone on the floor near the couch. At the memory that it must have slipped out of your pocket when you almost fell last night just to then try to kiss Sukuna, your body burns with embarrassment. Unlocking the screen and looking at the time you find a message from Sukuna and missed calls from your father and group of friends. Shit, you totally forgot them.

R. SUKUNA: If you wake up and I'm not here, take a shower, there are headache pills in the desk drawer and eat something. If you decide to take a bath, use something from my closet. I'm visiting my grandpa, I'll be back in about an hour. :)

Checking the time, you realize that the message was sent half an hour ago so you still had time to be alone and clear your thoughts before he returned. After how absurd you acted last night, you don't want to see him today, not in a few weeks maybe. You don't have the courage to look him in the face, especially after he walked away, making it clear to you where he stood with you.

You return to the room with the phone in your hand and a glass of water you quickly grabbed from the kitchen. You open the first drawer and search for the pills you need stumbling upon some personal items, including two small square wrappers of different texture and metallic blue color. Before an unwanted idea can germinate in your mind, you push the condoms aside and take the pill, drinking every last drop from the glass.

You are determined to leave and escape from him, but the sweat from the previous day clings to your body and you refuse to go out like this. You quickly duck into the familiar bathroom and take a quick shower without getting your hair wet this time, opting only to pull it up in a simple bun and wear the same clothes from the day before. You exit the bathroom determined to take refuge in the motel, walking straight to the front door.

“Good morning.” His voice makes you yelp. You put one hand on your chest and one on your mouth, looking him up and down as if you've seen a ghost, and he has the audacity to laugh.

Sukuna looks fresh, as if he's had a good night's sleep and just got out of the shower. He's wearing a light blue short-sleeved sweater and black sweatpants; the baseball cap covering part of his face makes him look much younger.

“Did you sleep well?” Sukuna speaks again and you hope he didn't notice you looking him up and down.

“Yes, thank you. I had a bit of a headache, but I'm better now. we...?” We sleep together. It's the sentence you don't get to finish.

“The couch is more comfortable than it looks.” He gives you another brief grin and your heart flips.

“I'm so sorry about yesterday.”

You both know what you mean, so neither of you decides to delve into it. He downplays it with a wave of his hand, and you appreciate his friendship now more than ever, so you let that memory die.

“You were drunk...” he excuses you before you have a chance to.

“Of course, I never...” you stop, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know.”

“How's your grandfather?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject, struggling not to notice the tattoo peeking through the opening near his neck.

“He's much better, actually.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” you say sincerely, forcing yourself to swallow the guilt that's weighing you down inside. He's showing his most vulnerable side with you, and all you can think about is how much you want to kiss his neck.

“There's just one little problem.”

Your eyes narrow and you take a step forward, paying more attention this time. “What's wrong?” you inquire with genuine concern.

“He wants to meet my girlfriend.”

"Oh." You blink slowly, your lips opening and closing as you choose your next words carefully. “You have a girlfriend.” It's a statement. Of course he has a girlfriend.

“That's where you come in.”

“Excuse me?”

“He always insists that he doesn't like me being alone, that I should focus on other things than taking care of him and the restaurant. To put his mind at ease, I told him I have a girlfriend, I just didn't count on him asking me to meet her. I can only rely on you for that.”

You're flattered, but it's still not enough to hide the fact: “So you lied to him.” You ponder, processing all the information he's blurted out to you.

“Um, no. I'm going to get one, just not now. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him with me and I didn't want to disappoint him.”

You nod slowly. “So, you want us to go visit him?”

“Yes, just once or twice.”

“And for me to act like I'm your girlfriend?”

“Yup.”

You sigh deeply, you massage your eyes with the palm of your hand trying to run away at least for a second from his presence and the effect he has on you; you don't want to keep looking at him and keep thinking about what he is making you feel inside because, what was all that? Sukuna was. your. friend. Why couldn't your hormones understand that and why did you suddenly feel like you would burst if he ever touched you? You finally open your eyes, nod.

“Yeah, okay. I'll help you.”

You don't think about the implications of this, you don't think about the fact that pretending to be his girlfriend makes your heart gallop fast against your ribs when it shouldn't. This is nothing more than an act of good faith, you're just helping a friend. You refuse to consider that you might have to hold his hand, and even the idea of having to kiss him is possible in some scenario.

It's the first time in years that you realize you don't remember the last time you kissed someone. You've been so focused on working, improving and becoming a better dancer every day that you don't remember the last time you had romantic or sexual contact with someone, and you're definitely not ready for Sukuna to be your first.

“I have to go now.”

You have a lot to process.

“Stay for breakfast,” he suggests with that lopsided grimace of his, the one where he doesn't show his teeth but could make you sign a deal with the devil if he wanted to. You have to grip your bag tighter so you don't reach out and touch the inky flash that winks at you again.

“See you later!” you say instead, running for the door.

You don't stop to wait for an answer because you know he would change your mind because that's what he always does (get his way), make you stay and confuse you even more. You pull out your phone and call for an Uber back to the discomfort of your bed, where you can be away from the effect he has on you.

Thurs. 5/10 •

Meeting Hiroshi in person after hearing so much about him makes you feel like you've already known him for a long time. The smile spreads on his face like ink on water when he sees you, and it's already second nature for him to call you “daughter” as he grabs your hand and cheeks affectionately; he really likes you and you like him back.

Accompanied by Sukuna holding your hand, you always bring him flowers or fruits and listen attentively as Sukuna reads to him and tells him how business is going at the restaurant, while he nods. In a way, he reminds you of your own grandfather; a man just as sweet and hardworking. Seeing this new side of Sukuna is certainly different and addictive. The patient way he talks to his grandfather makes you look at him with admiring eyes; he seems like a totally different man. You have been accompanying him for the last three visits and seeing him spending so much time with his grandfather is becoming a regular habit.

On one of these visits you bump into someone you had seen before in one of the photographs he has hanging in his apartment. Yuuji, much older, much more adult, smiles at you and has the same cheerful expression as his grandfather; he is a boy full of energy who squeezes your hand and shakes it energetically the first time you meet him. He looks a lot like Sukuna and it is impossible for you not to make the internal comparison of how different they are despite being so physically similar.

On Monday after visiting Hiroshi, exchanging the flowers for new ones and making sure he was enjoying his favorite meal, Yuuji, who was already at the hospital when you got there, invites you over for dinner as a sweet gesture to get to know you better.

The restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital is crowded with people, brimming with a cozy, family atmosphere with polished wooden tables and delicate white tablecloths. The soft murmur of family conversations intermingles with the tantalizing aroma of dishes wafting from the kitchen and traditional music in the background.

“I never thought I'd see Uncle Sukuna with a girlfriend,” Yuuji confesses as he rolls noodles on his chopsticks and brings them to his mouth.

“Hey,” Sukuna growls, finishing the sake in one gulp. “Don't disrespect your uncle.”

“It's not that,” Yuuji laughs.“It's just that you're always so secretive, and after what happened with Dad... but I'm happy for both of you.”He looks at you briefly now as he shakes his head slowly.

Your body twitches softly at the surprise of feeling Sukuna curling his fingers with yours on top of the table. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and butterflies flutter inside you at the sight of this affectionate gesture, though you quickly remember that it's all part of the act. Getting caught up in the moment and excusing yourself to your inner judge, you gently squeeze his hand, reminding yourself to maintain the role of girlfriend.

As you enjoy dinner, you and Sukuna chat animatedly, sharing anecdotes about Hiroshi, the origin of the restaurant's peculiar name, and Yuuji's antics as a child. The vibe in the restaurant is permeated with warmth and energy, with the bustle of the other tables and the comforting aroma of ramen wafting through the air.

At the end of the meal, Yuuji bids the two of you goodbye with a hug, explaining that he must go elsewhere but that he hopes you will have a second date together.

As soon as he makes sure Yuuji has left the restaurant, Sukuna looks at you with a soft smile. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I know this isn't part of your commitment as a 'fake girlfriend'.”

You smile back, still feeling the warmth of his finger on your skin. “Thank you for letting me meet your grandpa, he's an amazing person, and your nephew is really adorable.”

Sukuna nods, his eyes shining with something you can't decipher. “I know Yuuji really likes you too. I think he likes you more than me.”

You giggle softly, recognizing that this encounter has brought you closer to Sukuna. Meeting one of the most important pillars of his life, along with his nephew, who is practically the only close family he has left, makes you feel lucky to be able to witness this more intimate side of him. You just hope that, when all is said and done and they both realize that you're just his friend they'll still continue to accept you and treat you with the affection that has characterized them so far.

“Maybe I should go back to the motel. It's getting late,” you say, bursting the bubble that had enveloped you out of reality. Being away from him was the last thing you wanted right now, but you needed to remind yourself from time to time that this was not part of your current life.

At that moment, he gently withdraws his fingers from yours and nods with a tense line on his lips.

“Sure. Join me for a smoke first.”

After paying the bill and leaving the restaurant, you both walk to the back with Sukuna gently tugging on your hand, still engaged in an act that should only happen when Yuuji or his grandfather are around. Surrounding you, a few people congregate to talk and share a cigarette.

Sukuna brings the cigarette to his mouth and you help him shield it with your hands as he tilts his head slightly to avoid the wind. The cigarette lights up as he inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on you the whole time. He is leaning against the wall and you are close by, standing between his spread legs.

“I'll probably have to go home soon..., my real home, I mean,” you tell him suddenly, preferring to watch the people walking in and out of the parking lot instead of paying attention to him.

“Is it the money?”

You nod still without glancing at him. “I can't wait for it to be over, I already talked to my dad and he also thinks it's for the best.”

Sukuna is silent as he takes another puff and exhales just in time for when you turn back to look at him.

“I've been requesting a recommendation letter for you for another academy. I filed an official report against Kurogawa and we have witnesses, people who had made accusations before but had never filed an official report.”

His name brings back bitter memories that dissolve in the smoke and stale smell of the cigarette.

“I'm going to testify too.” Your voice surprises you as much as it seems to surprise Sukuna, who looks you up and down with curious eyes.

“Fine. I'll be with you.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I wanted to be sure, I didn't want to get your hopes up.” His eyes turn soft and you can see in them the same shadow that was in them that time in his apartment. He was looking at your lips just like now and he didn't seem to mind hiding it. “You look beautiful, by the way. Yuuji kept looking at you.”

You smile, glancing down at the teal dress you decided to wear that night.

“You don't look bad yourself,” you tell him, touching your fingertips to the oversized wool coat he was wearing. Sukuna follows your fingers as they stumble over the black buttons and away from his body. His eyes follow your hands that stay still on either side of your body and then they return to your face, momentarily checking your mouth.

“Wanna try?” he asks, raising the cigarette to your eye level.

“I've never smoked,” you confess.

“That wasn't my question.” He bites his lip, followed by the tip of his pink tongue moistening his lower lip gently. “You want me to guide you?”

“...Yes.”

“Open your mouth,” his voice comes out quick, eager and sharp almost like yours. His words guide you as you part your lips just enough for him to place the cigarette between them. But instead, Sukuna pulls you closer into him gently squeezing your waist as he exhales smoke into your half-open lips. “Swallow a little bit and then exhale,” he gently commands you. “Don't let it go down your throat.”

You follow his instructions without complaint, holding the smoke for a moment in your mouth before releasing it. The taste of ash floods your palate for a moment, a smell you find unbearable and yet.... “More,” you find yourself asking, rising on tiptoe to reach for the cigarette yourself.

You're sure you're not asking for more of the cigarette, you're asking for more of him. Of the brief touch you get from his unfriendly hands on your body, more of his perfume lulling your senses, more of his closeness.

His fingers leave your lower back to climb up to your jaw keeping you steady, still and trapped as he exhales a second puff between your parted lips. Your heart flips but you manage to repeat the action of inhaling and exhaling without coughing, and as he prepares to do it a third time without you asking, your noses collide in the darkness of your closed eyes; his lips brush yours for an electric instant, and you feel his fingers clinging tighter to your jaw: breathing out.

“My God...you,” you stand still, feeling yourself burn inside as his warm breath seeps into you once more. “If you don't stop me, I will do something I will regret.” His words are a threat brushing your tongue.

Your foreheads meet and rest against each other, fingers guided by desire slipping under his coat where you cling to his shirt ruffling the fabric. You close your eyes waiting to feel him, that first real contact, charged with sparkle and fireworks. You tilt your neck back, giving him the access he needs to take you.

“I'm not going to stop you,” you gasp, pushing closer.

Sukuna growls like an animal, immediately replacing his grip with his lips on your jaw; barely perceptibly grazing the flesh and bringing tickles to your insides. Then he moves slowly up to your ear, outlining the jaw bone with his mouth and staying still behind the shell of your ear, simply breathing warm air.

“We're in public,” he reminds you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Charged with a bravery that is uncharacteristic of you, you reach your hand toward his crotch, feeling the bulge that is evident through his pants.

“Then let's go somewhere more private.”

Sukuna grunts once more, hunching towards you in such a way that it appears as if he is hugging you. His hands slide down your back until they reach your ass and squeeze it, the people around you startle you but the feeling lasts a moment before you turn your attention back to him and the plea that seems to spill from his throat.

“What have you done to me?” he utters your name as if you were a divine being and he is a mere servant. Your hand, gaining confidence, presses harder on his erection. “I want to slowly peel off your clothes, worship every inch of your body. Kiss every spot, every mole.”

He abandons the comfort of your ear to move to your neck, where you sense his breath as he subtly pushes his hips against your open palm. It's embarrassing to be doing this in public. His coat and the shadows of the night help hide the scene, but if someone were to discover you, you could get in trouble.

“Tell me you need it too,” he whispers against your throat on the verge of losing his temper and pressing his nose, his eager mouth clinging to your skin; sucking. “Tell me you feel the fire in your chest too,” he gasps, his teeth grazing a little harder.

“Fuck. I feel it. I've wanted to say it for a long time, but I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same,” you lick your lips. “That night when I tried to kiss you...”

“You were drunk,” he interrupts you. “I didn't want you to regret it the next day.” Sukuna reluctantly pulls away to admire you with dilated pupils and parted lips. “But you have no idea how much I've had to restrain myself to act just like a friend.” He examines you up and down. “Let's go to my apartment.”

Holding hands and with feelings running high, you move quickly into the parking lot to find the bike parked a few feet from where you were. Sukuna just lets you go to put the helmet around your head and then proceeds to put his on and without another thought you set off on the road. The cool night air immediately envelops you, the edge of your dress flaps against your thighs thanks to the speed at how fast he was going, almost as quickly as your heart beats in your chest. For you, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a sense of disbelief mixed with anticipation. You can't stop thinking about what just happened, what you've wanted to occur for months and what might happen now.

The drive back to his apartment is fraught with sexual tension. The speed, the wind in your faces and the physical proximity keeps you on edge, your fingers run up and down his chest under his coat, impatient up and down patterns reminding him how close you are.

As you reach the apartment the palpable excitement between you and Sukuna intensifies. You both quickly slide off the bike, and holding hands take the elevator to his floor. Neither of you say anything until you reach the quiet of his place, interrupted by the hitching of breaths.

Sukuna steps forward and sits on the couch that is now so familiar to you, his eager but controlled expression blurring in the gloom that dances in the living room. From there, he calls your name softly, his voice laden with restrained emotion. The atmosphere in the apartment seems charged with electricity as you approach him, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you get closer, Sukuna watches you carefully, his eyes roaming over every part of you with admiration and desire.

“Take off your dress,” he says hoarse with lust.

Without thinking you grab the edge of the dress, slip it over your head and pull it aside to be left with only the underwear you have chosen for the night. As you move forward and are finally in the middle of his spread knees Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you to sit on his lap. The grip on your hips firms and hardens, he takes it upon himself to rub your covered core against the wideness of his thigh and short moans of pleasure take over your mouth.

“Keep riding my thigh. Slowly. Feel that pussy get wet for me, feel it ache,” he indicates, releasing your hips to then worship your thighs up and down.

Oh. It was aching, you want to tell him. Everything inside you was doing it, burning with need every muscle, every vein. Your legs from the posture, your pussy from need and your tight belly begging for a release but instead you stand quietly contemplating with your mouth open the way, after removing his coat, he undresses the buttons of the sweater one by one finally satiating your curiosity by revealing the tattoo underneath.

More black marks. They draw you in and invite you to touch them, thick ink-filled lines that you trace under your fingers start at his chest, cross between the line that joins his shoulder and neck and disappear behind along his back. Puzzled you stare at him some more, losing yourself in his eyes as you rise to look at him; he looks still, pleased that you are touching him as if he were art.

“Did they hurt?” you wonder with a bit of naiveté.

Sukuna cradles your breasts gently above the fabric of your bra, he seizes the moment to tug on your nipples hard, getting you to moan.

“They hurt a lot,” he confesses quietly, in a low tone of voice that plays it down.

You continue tracing the canvas that is his skin, moving down his abdomen until you stumble upon the belt that holds his pants in place. Briefly you check his eyes, hoping they tell you something more than the lust that seems to flood them.

“Why did you decide to get tattooed then?”

Sukuna catches your gaze silently, his fingers snaking around your belly, walking up to stop in the middle of your thighs and through your panties he strokes your clit with three fingers.

“We all have to endure a little pain sometimes, don't we?”

It feels so intimate the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. When he roams your body with his gaze you can't help but feel small. You rub against his fingers, push and circle them helping him get to know your body better, listening to your broken gasps, showing him exactly where it makes you feel good.

“I want to suck your cock,” you confess as you reach down to undo his belt. There was no shame binding you now, only a raw desire that longs to be unleashed.

He smiles pleased with the change in attitude, and silently pushes your hips up to help you remove his pants leaving him alone in a pair of boxers which you soon pull down leaving them tangled midway down his thighs. Sukuna then pulls you off his lap and places you on the side of the couch where he instructs you to spread your legs for him thus getting easy access between your thighs.

As Sukuna continues to give attention to your pussy, you contemplate how hard he is: more than big it was thick, with the tip of an angry pink throbbing just below your mouth. It had been years since you had last given oral sex to someone, your last few encounters were nothing more than a monotonous thrusting and pulling out where you ended up with the guy cumming on your lower back or stomach; you never felt like sucking their cock but with sukuna it's different. With him everything is.

“It's been a long time since I've... you know,” you confess, holding back a nervous giggle.

From below you raise your gaze to lace it to his eyes that receive you slightly closed, sharing a guilty smirk that he wipes away as he bites his lip.

“You're doing a very good job,” he praises you. And his fingers tossing the edge of your panties aside leaves you breathless for a second, your lip quivering receiving his fingers inside you. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to, though.”

His words cause you to twitch around two fingers pushing and massaging your pussy. So deep, so slow, he synchronizes his thrusts with the way your lips close around the head of his cock; his movements are precise as if he's searching for something inside you, in, out and then he pulls them all the way out to make you cum as he rubs your clit hard and talks dirty to you.

Sukuna praises you sweetly as you sob his choked name against his thigh, his caresses surround your now sensitive clit and every time he touches it you find it impossible not to shudder. Then he grabs you by the face and kisses you on the forehead and holding your hand helps you up to guide you to his room that you already knew.

The lamps are off and the only light coming in is through the open window, the curtain ruffles softly in the cool spring breeze sending sudden chills down your bare skin. Sukuna instructs you to lie face down on the bed and you do so as he goes to another side of the room. The mirror you saw earlier shows you your half naked body under the swirling shadows and the masculine scent permeating his sheets makes you sigh deeply.

The bed sinks with his weight, the mattress groans as he digs his knees into it and positions himself behind you, your ass rising almost without your permission, eager with anticipation.

“You want to fuck me like this?” you throw your head back to catch him putting on the condom, one of the blue wrappers you saw before is now off to the side near your feet.

“Fuck yeah. Just lay back, you work so hard...” He snaps, spitting on his wrapped cock and giving it a couple of strokes before spreading your ass cheeks apart. “You want it like this, want me to work to make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh, watching every glimpse that the dim light allows you of his body in the big mirror.

Slowly he sinks into you and you take it in with a deep moan. “That's it,” Sukuna murmurs, resting his hands on your lower back, initiating gentle thrusts that have your body rocking against the sheets.

Sometimes you feel him so deep you call his name, drunk with pleasure, you hope he understands you're begging him to keep going because you can't speak. Your mind is filled with him, his natural scent on the sheets, the smell of his sweaty perfume, his chest heavy against your back sinking you a little deeper into the mattress.

“Do you want to fuck yourself a little on my cock?” He says, gently circling your neck with his fingers without actually exerting any real pressure, with his free hand he stimulates your clit and your back arches right away. “Push your ass back, that's it...”

“I'm gonna cum...” you warn him, gasping with your mouth open, blinking rapidly so as not to lose sight of your bodies reflected in the mirror, fitting together perfectly as they do when dancing.

Your orgasm was still making you shiver the moment he turns you around so that you are facing each other. Sukuna is grinning showing you his sharp fangs, bringing your hands above your head and clasping his fingers between yours he starts fucking you again, your legs on his broad shoulders, his mouth just inches from you.

“Hi,” he says giggling breathlessly and it catches you immediately. “You look so beautiful now, you look gorgeous when you cum for me...”

His thrusts become deeper, your skins echoing each time they meet.

“Ryōmen...”

“I know, baby. I feel it too... Do you want me to cum inside?” You nod drunkenly with pleasure, unable to stop staring into those deep red eyes, his lashes fluttering and you notice his jaw tightening. “Yeah? You want to feel my thick load creaming that pussy?” he says, through clenched teeth.

“Yes, oh my god, please.”

Your fingers run down your stomach and down between your thighs, your fingers graze your clit once giving you the final push you need to cum a third time.

“Next time we'll do it raw, baby. I promise, but take it like this now, hm; cum for me.”

Your body tenses, your belly tightens in anticipation as Sukuna finally joins his lips with yours. The sensation is electric, as if a current of desire runs through every fiber of your being. Your lips meet in an eager, fiery kiss, where Sukuna sucks your tongue greedily and bites your lower lip with unbridled passion.

The intensity is almost obscene, each movement making you moan softly. Your legs tremble, but his weight on you only fuels the growing fire in your belly. Though your body aches in this position, you can't stop; the kiss is addictive, a whirlwind of sensations that far exceeds your deepest desires. It is far more than any subtle fantasy you have allowed yourself to imagine.

Sukuna leans closer, his hands caressing your face tenderly as his lips explore yours with passionate urgency. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, swallowing each of the growls he lets die in your mouth.

. . . Slowly he pulls out of you, then rushes to throw the condom away in a basket by the desk. Your aching body turns to admire his broad back and gaze at the ink stains on it in the poor light.

With a simple “I'll be right back,” he leaves you waiting naked between the sheets your fingers stretch to gather and tuck you in. Before you can allow feelings of guilt or doubt to arise, Sukuna returns to the bed with a bottle of water that he offers you to drink. You immediately bring it to your mouth as he lies down next to you, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his tummy.

You snuggle close to him and Sukuna immediately wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his warm body.

“That was amazing,” you admit, as your fingers trace figures on his chest. However, Sukuna senses how you suddenly tense up.

“What's wrong?” he asks you with a frown.

“I was thinking about what's going to happen to us now,” you mutter, averting your gaze.

“I like you,” he says, as if it hasn't been clear until now. “I want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time,” you both chuckle lightly, and you raise your face to stare at him for a moment, a smile spreading across your lips.

“I like you too,” you admit with a hot face, surprised to admit it out loud; you never thought this moment would come, the odds of ending up in love with Sukuna were low, almost nil. And yet, here you are.

“Good. Then we have no more questions,” he leans in for a fleeting kiss on your lips, awakening a dormant volcano in your belly. “I have to go visit my grandfather tomorrow, do you wanna grab lunch when I'm done?”

“Is it okay if I come with you?”

“Of course. You know we love having you around,” he says, struggling to hold back another smile.

"Does that mean that if I'm your girlfriend now I won't have to help you lift the fish boxes anymore?" you joke, and he drops his head back laughing softly. You look at him in awe, you never thought you could like him any more than you already did, but having him like this, so close, so vulnerable, makes your heart race.

You want to kiss him again, to sit on his lap and take control this time, but you bite your lip instead, letting out a smile.

“You're definitely going to have to help me more at the restaurant now that you're my girl.”

My girl. You feel like you might burst.

“And what about my dad? I already told him I'd go back to my country.”

“Nah. I'm not going to let you get away so easily, you're mine now. You're exactly where you belong.”

And Sukuna was right. Here you feel good, safe, despite the struggles you will face you know you can get through it together. So you lean in and kiss him again, and again and again; you would have all night and many more because now you were his and he was yours.

Thank you for reading! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡

I don't do parts two! ⟡ I do not allow repost (do not translate or copy elsewhere), please do not recommend my work on tiktok.

#wr #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #wr.sukuna

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lightseoul · 2 years ago

Text

endearment

synopsis. first, second, and third instances; it's official, there's something going on with bakugou and you're determined to find out.

cw. fem!reader, pro hero!katsuki, aged-up (26 yrs old), established relationship, a lot of cursing

word count. 1.9k words

The first time it happens, you don’t think too much about it.

“Bakugou,” you call out from where you’re snuggled on his corduroy sofa. “Can you pass me some tissue?”

From the bathroom, you could hear a faint ‘tch’.

The sound of house slippers colliding with the tiled floor grows louder and louder until he finally emerges with a roll in his hand, which he promptly tosses to you.

You catch it—barely—and grin when you feel the thickness of the 3-ply roll, no doubt a staple in Bakugou Katsuki’s pristine apartment unit.

Go figure.

He’s circling the coffee table and plopping down next to you when your phone rings.

Confused, you pick up your phone to see a picture of you and Kirishima from your last get-together—his caller ID. Curious, Bakugou peers over your shoulder, frowning upon seeing his other best friend’s name.

“Isn’t he on patrol right now with Midoriya?” you ask.

Bakugou shrugs. “Answer it.”

Humming an okay, you click the accept button.

“Hey, Y/N! Is Bakubro with you right now?

You eye Bakugou, who’s pretending to be disinterested and not at all eavesdropping. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Kirishima laughs, “Can you tell him to check our group chat? Limited edition All Might merch just dropped.”

At that, you chuckle. “Got this Ei. He’s actually just beside me right now. I’ll make sure to tell him. And tell Izuku I said hi.”

You can practically hear the smile on his face when he says: “Thanks, bro! You’re the best.”

With that, you press the end call button and turn slightly to regard Bakugou, who’s now staring at his hands on his knees, what looks like a scowl etched on his face.

You poke at his side, trying to be playful.

“Aren’t you curious about what he had to say?”

He shakes his head before standing up and heading—again—to the bathroom.

Huh.

The second time it happens, it leaves you and your friends bewildered.

“And so that’s how yesterday’s patrol ended up with me getting a special interview with TBS,” Mina says proudly.

You chuckle, amused. “That’s amazing, Mina.”

From where she’s seated beside you in the booth of your favorite bar, she grins. “Yeah, well I try!”

Kirishima, who’s sitting opposite the both of you, chimes in. “You have to tell Bakubro that story.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Mina asks.

You squint, looking through the glass windows of the bar. “I think he’s still searching for a parking space.”

At that, Mina cocks her head to the side in confusion. “But it’s been a while since you guys arrived?”

“Yeah…”

You pick up your phone, thumbing through the contacts until you arrive at the one marked with the red asterisk.

Emergency contact.

You’re in the middle of quickly typing out a where r u when Mina, the ever meddling Mina, peers over your shoulder unbeknownst to you.

“You named his contact…Bakugou?”

Attention divided between texting and talking with your friends, you retort lamely with: “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Kirishima pipes up. “It’s just that couples usually save each other’s contacts as sweet pet names.”

Mina nods in agreement. “For example, I have Ei saved as baby, with a red heart.”

Before you can even defend yourself, let alone playfully gag at the nickname Mina has given Kirishima, Bakugou appears at your table, sitting down at the booth next to Kirishima and in front of you, uncharacteristically quiet.

When you lock eyes, you raise your eyebrows ever so slightly— denoting a question: everything okay?—but he doesn’t sustain eye contact.

Instead, he stands up again quite abruptly.

“Restroom,” he explains curtly, stuffing his hands in his pockets before walking away, leaving the three of you speechless.

The third time it happens, it happens in his childhood home.

You didn’t expect to meet his parents this early on in the relationship; you haven’t even been together for a year. Yet Bakugou was determined to introduce you to them, said something about his sharp intuition telling him something or whatever.

Which is how you now find yourself in the living room of the place where he grew up, poring over photo albums like how dehydrated animals in hot climates pore over water.

With his mother, of all people.

“And this is him when his quirk first manifested,” Mitsuki explains, speeding through the pages of the album whilst grinning. You can’t help but grin back.

She points to a rather old photograph on the last page. “And this one is him playing baseball in 8th grade.”

Intrigued, you move closer to see the picture, smiling when you spot him, crimson eyes and ash blonde locks sticking out like a rose amidst the thorny bushes—impossible to miss.

Wanting to fill the air, you offer: “Bakugou was a very cute kid, Mitsuki-san.”

In a flash, she looks up at you, a puzzled look decorating her beautiful features, instead of the look of gratitude you were aiming for.

When you look back at her with confused eyes yourself, she asks, “You still call each other by your last name?”

“Oh—I—uh…”

You eye Bakugou who’s in the kitchen, chopping fresh vegetables for the salad, as per his mother’s instructions.

You convince yourself that he’s got to be out of earshot.

Stumbling over your words again, you scramble for purchase. “Well—”

To your relief, Mitsuki only laughs good-naturedly in response, cutting you off.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I know my Katsuki can be a bit intimidating sometimes, but inside he’s a real softie who appreciates the little things.”

You could simply nod in response.

From the kitchen, Bakugou announces: “I’m going to the restroom. Start eating without me.”

A fourth time does not end up happening.

Instead, you find yourself riding the elevator to the rooftop of Bakugou’s apartment complex, where he’s already waiting for you.

‘I’ll just go ahead’ is what he said after both of you finished cleaning the dishes from dinner. ‘Make sure to catch up’.

Before you know it, the elevator doors slide open and you step out, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the heavy feeling now sitting in your stomach.

Will you finally figure out why Bakugou’s been acting a bit off lately?

You immediately spot him, back turned against you, and arms folded across his chest, resting on top of the railing.

Slowly, you walk towards him, ultimately situating yourself to his right.

A tense—albeit not uncomfortable—silence falls upon you.

Neither of you says anything until you pipe up with: “Is there bad news?”

At that, he finally turns his head to look at you. “Hah?”

You school your expression into a pensive one. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” he exclaims, his entire body now facing you in a frantic hurry. “No!”

You chuckle. “Then what’s with the bad news face?”

“Bad news face?”

Nodding, you continue. “The face you make when you hear or are about to deliver bad news. It’s the more solemn iteration of your scowl.”

“What—” he scoffs, although he sounds pleased, “—You’ve fucken memorized my expressions?”

You shrug sheepishly.

When he doesn’t say anything in return, you prod further. “How bad is it?”

He huffs, breaking eye contact. “No bad news. Just—it’s…shit, never mind.”

“It’s just me,” you remind him. “It’s okay.”

With your reassurance, you can see his body relaxing a little bit, though he still refuses to say anything.

A few more seconds of tense silence pass before Bakugou finally looks you straight in the eye.

“Why the fuck do you call me Bakugou?

You stare at him. “...because it’s your name?”

Whatever he wanted to hear from you, it sure wasn’t that.

He scoffs. “Yeah? Well, why do you call shitty hair Ei or shitty deku Izuku? Have I failed some fucking test to qualify for first name privileges?”

“What are you talking about?”

This is what made him act weirdly the past week?

“Don’t make me say it again, woman,” he spits, although there’s not much venom coating his words.

“God,” he combs through his hair in frustration, “this is fucking humiliating.”

“I call you Bakugou because that’s what I called you back when we were just friends,” you try to reason. “Also, I…I didn’t want to start calling you Katsuki out of nowhere.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” you finish, voice small.

“Who said I wanted you to call me that?”

You shoot him a knowing look.

You stare at each other for a few more seconds before he groans in defeat, turning to face the city skyline instead of you. You follow suit, opting to look up at the stars that seem to be twinkling extra tonight.

Moments pass with neither of you saying anything.

You gently bump his shoulder with yours.

“For what it’s worth,” you start, “I don’t think there’s anything to be embarrassed about.”

He only grunts in response. You press on.

“The fact that you just told me all this…I don’t know. It makes me happy. It’s sort of like saying you care enough about our relationship to communicate even the most ‘humiliating’—your words not mine—of concerns.

“Of course I fucking do, dumbass,” he retorts. “Wouldn’t have confessed to you if I was just gonna chicken out at some point like a loser.”

You smile at him and his words, and you hope your adoration translates to your face, because the thing with Bakugou is that sometimes you have to deliver the message without having to utter the words—all to preserve the moment before it’s adulterated by shame.

“Right,” you look at him, “why don’t you call me by my first name?”

“Figured I haven’t earned it yet,” he says bluntly.

Amused, you push forward. “And how were you planning to earn it?”

He shoots you a glare. “By being the best fucking boyfriend, that’s how.”

At that, you cannot help the delighted laughter that erupts from you.

He side-eyes you, annoyed, though a smile manages to crack through the facade.

“Stop laughing at me.”

And when you don’t: “Hey.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you exclaim, trying to catch your breath. “I’m just happy.”

He studies you for a beat, eyes fluttering across your face as if he’s searching for something. You feel yourself grow warmer under his piercing gaze.

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally says: “Call me Katsuki.”

You grin, “Okay, Katsuki.”

At your mention of his name, the scowl plastered on his face eases a little into a neutral—borderline happy—expression.

“And I’ll call you by your first name…” he declares, “if you’re fine with it or if not, just forget I said that.”

You take his hand and squeeze it before he can ramble some more.

“Sounds good to me, Katsuki.”

bonus:

“I swear,” you argue while putting on your shoes, “I can ride the subway, Katsuki.”

“At this hour?” he snorts.

“Best fucking boyfriend, remember?” he sneers as he obtains his car keys by the doorway. “Just let me do this for you.”

You relent, knowing better than to fight with Katsuki on the matter of your safety, when suddenly a brilliant idea dawns on you.

Straightening up, you say: “I don’t think I saw you drinking water after dinner, Katsuki.”

“What?”

“Go hydrate yourself,” you command.

At that, he grumbles but submits to you anyway, walking back to his tidy kitchen.

Once you see that he’s in the middle of chugging down a bottle, you call: “Katsuki?”

He grunts—the best he can do while downing a bottle of water—in response.

“Can I call you babe?”

Bakugou chokes on his spit.

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

#as i said #we love an emotionally constpiated bakugou <3 #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst

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orchidseason · 26 days ago

Text

ꕥ Pro Hockey Player!Ellie ⌇ How You Two Meet Again

pro hockey player!ellie x fem!reader

You’re walking your niece to her figure skating lesson, distracted by her excitement, when you almost bump into Ellie in the hallway. She’s as confident as ever, but the flicker of recognition in her eyes—one that hints at the unspoken history of that night you shared—freezes you both in place.

warnings ⌇word count 1k, suggestive, previous one night stand between you two discussed, r used to be a figure skater

It was a quick mention, a sly quip into the conversation by your sister. Though teasing, she was half serious–wondering if you really would drive her daughter to her skating lessons. Out of your love for your niece—and your sister—you agreed. Having a kid in this day and age required a lot of money, so to combat that both your sister and her husband worked. They didn’t wish to be at work so often, it proved difficult to try and work but also take their daughter to all of her events.

So, to take the load off of their shoulders a bit, you agreed. You’ll take your niece to the ice skating rink for her skating lessons. Issue is—this is the same rink you used to practice at. Your history with such a building—despite the six year gap—felt fresh, like it happened yesterday. You’re doing this for your sister, her husband, and your niece—not yourself.

Today was her first day. You’ve driven her to the facility, walking beside her with a grin. She’s been yapping since you picked her up from elementary school. Every conversation with her makes you smile, your heart full of love for her. You open the door, letting her walk into the place first—following behind her.

“I have my own skates,” she says, rambling as you walk the two of you to the reception desk, “they’re white. Mom got them for me.”

You take the sticky name tag from the receptionist, smiling at her before turning your attention onto your niece. “Well, I’m very excited to see them in a second.”

She then jumps in place, gripping your hand, “please, please, please can I have a muffin. They have a food thing. Please.”

You match where she’s looking and sure enough there’s some form of a confession stand. With your heart so weak for her, despite your low bank account, you nod with a sigh. She cheers, dragging you towards it.

“Which kind,” you ask her. She just barely reaches the counter, eyes looking over each of the kinds of muffins. She picks chocolate chip. You buy it for her and settle down to sit at the many tables and chairs in the room. Similar to you, other parents and guardians are here with little ones—all awaiting for the lesson to start.

She sits there, grabby hand shoving the muffin into her mouth while her eyes are fixated on a random tv. You’re kneeled on the ground, helping her put her ice skates on.

“What’s that,” she asks, pointing somewhere.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” you comment, pinching her leg softly before looking, “that’s hockey.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your eyes, standing after having finished tying her skates, “it’s a sport on ice. You basically hit a little circle around.”

She tunes out after, continuing to watch some game on the tv as well as the ads. Then, of course, five minutes before she has to be on the ice she murmurs, “aunt, I need to use the restroom.”

Of course. You reach your hand out for her to take, “okay, but you gotta go quick okay, hon?”

You walk her down the hallway that’s between the two skating rinks. The left rink usually being for the hockey teams to practice while the right is where figure skaters generally go. With your attention down on your niece as she rambles about some friend in her first grade class, you’re unaware of the other woman walking the opposite way—towards you.

The side of your body rams into her, the impact laving you twisted towards her. You glance over, attention brought away from your niece so you can apologize to whoever it was—but you freeze. She continues to walk away, but she’s twisted her head back to look at you—a smirk on her lips and recognition laced in her look. Momentarily you get a flashback, a memory of that night. Of how she made you feel, of how rough her kisses felt on your lips, of how loud you were—her name spoken like a mantra.

Your niece tugs on your hand, “come on, I need to go!”

“Right,” you say, moving along again—eyes still stuck where she was, “right, let’s go.”

When she takes your hand and drags you toward the rink, you can’t help but feel that rush—this little moment, her excitement, and your own flood of anxious memories. But for now, you're here. And that’s enough.

She ends up being like two minutes late, but it’s fine. She’s found her group and her coach, apologizing and explaining to her coach why she was late due to her last-minute bathroom break. Thankfully her coach is sweet, laughing it off and telling you to stop being so concerned—that she fully understands.

You settle into a seat among the other parents, your elbow propped on your knee, chin resting in your hand as you watch your niece skate across the ice. But even as you focus on her, your thoughts keep slipping back to the woman you just saw.

Just then, your gaze shifts to a poster on the wall nearby. Your heart stops. There, in bold letters at the top, is her name. Your expression falters as the realization hits you.

She’s not just a woman who plays hockey in her spare time. She’s made it pro.

pro hockey player!ellie m.list

taglist // @kaykeryyy, @vxsellie, @vahnilla

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irisintheafterglow · 7 months ago

Text

thoughts are thonkin' about summer camp counselor!gojo

"hmm, let's go with truth."

"do you like any of the other counselors?" ooohhhh. the children in the circle around you lean forward in anticipation. you can practically see the excitement in their eyes and you coyly dodge the question, well aware their reactions would be less than satisfied.

"oh, yeah! i like all the counselors!" you chirp happily and the kids groan, protesting 'not like that!' or 'you know what we mean!' you ignore them and push on, continuing, "shoko's basically my best friend, and i actually met her through this camp a long time ago; geto always lets me borrow his hairties; nanami...i guess i appreciate him for trying his best and coming back year after year." a few of the older campers from the cabin nanami always took charge of (because "they were more mature," in his eyes) snicker at your commentary on their favorite grumpy counselor, but one little girl in a purple tie-dyed shirt persists. you recognize her as one of geto's immediately; he always called dibs on playing 'mother' for the littlest ones in camp.

"what about counselor gojo?" her eyes are big and curious, still intrigued by your answers even when the rest of the group has moved on.

"remember, you can only ask one question per turn," nanami announces blandly from across the circle, though you do notice that the edge to his voice is gentler than usual. as much as he complains about the energy of the younger campers, he always seemed to be softer with them; though, you've never commented on it for fear of him becoming self-aware.

"he's right. that's two questions, my friend," you reply kindly, quickly moving the hot seat to the next camper, one of shoko's wearing a brown camp shirt. "alright, looks like it's your turn. truth or dare?"

"i hope you rascals are behaving. it's laps around the tennis courts if you're not." the front door to the main house opens and shuts, shoko entering with a train of middle schoolers at her heels. they'd embarked into the summer night to retrieve a camper's water bottle that was left at the edge of the lake. now that she's returned, her group eagerly makes room for her and the rest of their cabin until the circle nearly covers the entire living room. "they have behaved, right?"

"of course," you confirm. "they've been nothing but angels since you left." shoko hums and raises her eyebrows once, unamused. "what, you don't believe me?"

"nah, just that gojo's kids must not be here yet." you fight down the smirk that wants to appear on your face when, at the exact moment shoko comments on their absence, the loudest and rowdiest cabin arrives at the house. "speak of the devil-"

"i literally just got relaxed," mumbles suguru while he sits down with a disposable cup of warm tea from the kitchen. his girls lean over to see what he's drinking, asking if they can try some too. "later, later. let's all make room for counselor gojo's cabin, my friends."

"oi, wipe the dirt from your shoes or i throw you in the lake!" his cabin drawls out a half-hearted response, stamping on the welcome mat before filing into the living room. gojo's voice was still outside on the front porch. over the years, you learned he always took up the rear when his cabin was on the move, letting the most energetic of the bunch lead from the front and herding any stragglers at the back. according to your girls, he was the notorious 'hot camp counselor' that all the cabins fawned over. they called him charming, blushing over how carefree he was and how handsome he was when he smiled. you tried not to feed into any rumors about you and gojo having a thing for each other...

but he made it pretty difficult when he shimmied into the seat next to you and stared at you like there weren't several dozen children watching your every move.

"hi. you come here often?" he greets with a blinding smile before turning to the rest of the group. "so, what are we playing?" he sits with his legs crossed and one arm propped up behind you, the arm closest to you so that it occasionally brushes your shoulder. you shoot him a look of warning and he winks at you, going back to camp counselor mode in a split second. "this looks like a great truth or dare circle."

"it was, but there might be too many friends to play that game now. plus, we were only playing it to kill time," suguru says. the current number of campers made it hard to entertain everyone with a simple game like truth or dare, so it was up to the counselors to figure out a different game.

"i think kamo and todo's groups are still at the pool," shoko reminds everyone. "nanami and i can take a group over if you wanna go." a camper from nanami's cabin raises his hand.

"but aren't we still waiting for counselor haibara?" nanami shakes his head, the keys attached to his yellow leopard print lanyard jangling around his neck.

"counselor haibara's cabin is on dishes duty tonight. they're probably gonna go straight to bed when they're done."

"which will be soon for all of you, especially you little ones," you point out, glancing at the girls falling asleep on either side of suguru. all of the conscious campers grumble and you smile. they had so much fun every day of camp that they never wanted to go to sleep. "c'mon, you have to sleep if you still wanna do s'mores at the bonfire tomorrow." this raises their spirits a little bit and they come to the consensus that they need to play one more game before they go to sleep.

"alright kids, whatcha wanna play?" satoru folds his sunglasses and sticks them on the collar of his camp shirt. you ignore the way his bicep flexes under the rainbow tie-dyed fabric, willing the heat in your cheeks to dissipate. "there's heads up seven up, mafia, assassin-"

"can you tell us one of your stories, counselor gojo?"

"yeah, tell us a story from when you guys were campers." you can hear the gears turning in satoru's head and you lay a hand on his shoulder before he can launch into his tale.

"hold on, just so we're clear: you get a story instead of a game, is that okay with everyone? if we're not done by," you glance at the clock, "9:30, we'll save the rest of the story for tomorrow night, good?" the entire group nods their agreement, aside from the littlest ones who were dozing in suguru's arms. the kids get comfortable, leaning on each other and wrapping sweaters around their bodies like blankets. "take it away, then," you say to satoru.

"cool! i think i'm gonna tell you all about how i confessed to my camp crush," he states and you catch every other counselor in the room roll their eyes. somewhere across camp, a shiver probably ran up haibara's spine. evidently, satoru notices too, as he points at the rest of the counselors accusingly and says, "hey, just because you've heard this before doesn't mean i don't get to tell it again!"

"we didn't just hear it before, gojo," shoko says, rolling her eyes. "we were literally there." their beloved counselors becoming like characters in a fairy tale entice the kids even more to listen.

"so, a long, long time ago-"

"like when the dinosaurs were alive?"

"hey, i'm not that old," he frowns and the kids break into giggles. "anyways, a really long time ago, i had the biggest crush on another camper. the first time i saw them was at the lake. i was so shocked by them that i fell off my paddleboard."

"no way!"

"aww, that's so cute!"

"it's true," comments suguru after a sip from his tea. "i was in a kayak right next to him and he was so distracted, he ran into a rock and flew forward." more laughter echoes around the room and you even see nanami trying to hide a small smile.

"so, how'd you start talking to them?" you ask with a sparkle in your eyes.

"that's the thing," satoru continues, waving his arms around in dramatic gestures for emphasis. "for a while, i didn't even talk to them. i was so nervous and they were so pretty, like they were totally out of my league!"

"i don't think anyone's out of your league, counselor gojo," swoons one of the little ones from suguru's cabin. "i bet that person had a crush on you too, but you didn't know it!"

"that's very nice of you to say," satoru replies, briefly meeting suguru's eyes. suguru shrugs over the lid of his cup, his face an expression along the lines of 'i didn't teach them to be that friendly to you.'

"when did you actually start talking to them, counselor gojo?"

"yeah, and what did you talk about?"

"did you kiss them-"

"or did they kiss you first?"

"ew, kissing! gross!" the group teeters on the edge of falling into chaos, but it's exactly where satoru thrives.

"wait, wait, wait. too many questions, friends." all attention in the room snaps back to him. "and for the record, i did not kiss them the first time i talked to them," satoru reiterates with a nervous chuckle.

"then what did you talk about?"

"the easiest thing to talk about when you're here at camp," he replies. "i asked them if they wanted to see the stars with me." the lightbulbs blink to life in each camper's head and they grin in understanding. the area's constellations and views of space were always a fan-favorite, no matter the year. it was the one event every single camper and counselor looked forward to, and each person had a designated 'space buddy' to look at the stars with (and to also ensure no one wandered off in the dark woods alone). "i asked if they wanted to be my space buddy and, thankfully, they said yes."

"who was usually your space buddy, counselor gojo?" suguru wordlessly raises his hand on the other side of the circle. "wait, then who was counselor geto's space buddy?"

"it's how we became friends, actually," answers shoko. "counselor gojo stole my usual space buddy, so i had to partner with someone else."

"aww, that's so cute! wait..." the dots start to connect in the campers' minds and you stiffen, praying they didn't see the connection between the earlier truth-or-dare question and shoko's explanation. one of the older kids narrows his eyes at you, flicking between you and satoru with great suspicion.

"didn't you say earlier that shoko was your-" one of the littles can't hold their question and interjects before the big kid can finish their sudden inquiry.

"counselor shoko, who was your usual space buddy?"

"oh, it was always my best friend," she says without hesitation, looking over at you innocently. "and, if you didn't already know, my best friend is-"

"it's 9:30, big kids pack it up," nanami cuts in and you exhale, wiping your clammy palms on your shorts. a glance at satoru reveals him as suave as ever, but you do notice the single bead of sweat running down the side of his temple. "don't complain. you're already out later than i usually let you."

"that goes for you too, my littles," suguru says, ushering the sleepy children out the door after the bigs. "night, guys," he waves before stepping outside.

"we should probably get going, too. we'll tell the rest of this story tomorrow." as shoko's cabin leaves, satoru catches your eye.

"you wanna head out first or should we?"

"we can head out together, no? our cabins are right next to each other." the tiniest smirk appears on satoru's face.

"sounds good, you lead the way."

as both your group and satoru's walk out of the main house, you linger behind and let your kids navigate back to the cabin. when you're sure none of the kids are watching, you casually brush your hand against satoru's. he reacts immediately, lacing his fingers in yours and giving your hand a squeeze.

"hi, boyfriend," you say low enough that only he can hear.

"two more days," he mutters mostly to himself. "two more days and then i have you back to myself."

"c'mon, shouldn't we give back to the camp that brought us together in the first place?" you keep your voice as quiet as possible to not draw attention from the kids, your conversation blending with the sounds of the swaying forest and calling birds. "it's good karma, don't you think?"

"sure. doesn't mean i don't get mad when i can't love on you." you can hear satoru pouting even when you can't completely see his face. "are we ever gonna tell them about us? it's been a few years; most of the little ones we knew first are with nanami now."

"maybe we can tell them tomorrow. give them a little brain exercise trying to figure out who was your space buddy on that fateful night," you tease. he bumps his shoulder against yours, daring to sneak a kiss on your cheek. "satoru-"

"i know, i know. i just need reassurance that you're still mine, sometimes." the light of the cabins come into view and you reluctantly pull away from satoru. "ouch," he winces like he has a rock in his shoe. "i don't like that at all."

"what, me not holding your hand anymore?"

"mhmm, so don't be surprised if i tell the campers tomorrow," he says with an air of finality. "i'll take the teasing and the pestering as long as you're okay with it. i just can't take not being able to kiss you."

"of course i'm fine with it," you nod, finally catching up to your groups. you give them the signal to go inside and get ready for bed, stalling outside with satoru until you run out of time. "i'll see you in the morning, counselor gojo." he makes a gagging face that forces you to cover up a snort with a fake cough.

"if that sleeping bag isn't warm enough, you know where to find me," he says with a smirk as you begin to walk away. his body moves before his mind knows it, catching you by the wrist before you're too far. "hey. i love you." his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips. he was so desperately trying not to kiss you.

"i love you too," you murmur, seeing more sparkle in his eyes than in all of the campground. "sweet dreams, my love."

"sweet dreams, space buddy."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk au

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taddymason · 2 months ago

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So, I think as a fandom it would be better if we understood that in Jaya it's not that one of them loves one more than the other, but that one of them is more selfish than the other.

I wish this aspect was acknowledged more and not interpreted as "Nya doesn't need Jay or loves him as much as he loves her" but rather both characters have different priorities. Nya is a protective person, she is much more selfless in her actions, when Lloyd asks her to stay at the tournament, she does it because she knows she is needed, she knows Lloyd needs her and counts on her and of course no matter when she wants to go find Jay, she will always be there for her little brother like it happened in S9 and all the show tbh. And also because the tournament was a priority for the team at that time.

Now I'm not saying that Jay isn't capable of selfless sacrifices but I think there's a reason why this happens to a lesser extent with strangers and with MUCH more consistency with those she loves. And I'm not even talking about Nya. Jay dropped absolutely EVERYTHING without telling anyone in S7 to go save his parents, or in S6 the guy said "fuck the low profile" and summoned a dragon in the middle of the street in S6 to go see Ed in case he died.

Jay is much more prone to ignoring the greater good and putting absolutely everything aside for his close circle of loved ones (I actually love this about him a lot and it sets him apart from the team as one with the most questionable morals). One of Jay’s themes is family, again, and it’s not limited to Nya, but to his parents and how he always rushes in to save them without thinking, or how when Wu was in danger in S7 the guy jumped off the bounty against Lloyd’s orders to fight a mysterious stranger. I could go on, but it’s important that this aspect isn’t limited to Nya, but that Jay always puts his close circle of loved ones over the greater good. If you asked Jay to stay and complete a mission instead of going to save a loved one (be it Nya, his parents, or anyone on the team), the guy would do whatever he wanted, sorry.

And instead, Nya, from her role as a zamurai, has the theme of protecting, of taking care of others. Not only as a warrior, because she is genuinely kind supporting others like Lloyd or Sora. Nya SHOULD be allowed to be more selfish but ever since she was a child she's had to accept a very harsh reality where you can't afford to be "selfish", she's been forced to accept roles that people put on her, ever since s5 she was accepting something she didn't want for the greater good of becoming the water ninja. Of course she loves her family but she's also more analytical than Jay (who's going to react in the most impulsive/explosive way when you corner him) in order to know where she's most in need.

And even in S2 you can see how she puts aside her mourning for Kai (and the righteous anger she would have with Ras and Cinder) and tries to calm Wyldfyre at every opportunity.

To sum it all up, it's not just that Nya and Jay have very different ways of expressing affection to their loved ones (I beg you to stop using "I love you" as evidence because Nya hasn't said it to Kai either and I think we all know how much she loves him) but they also handle things very differently in complicated situations.

I think if the roles had been reversed in DR, would Jay have gone to look for Nya after she lost the tournament? Tbh yeah, most likely, but that doesn't mean he loves her more than she loves him. It's just that Jay is generally a more selfish person who will react more impulsively before thinking about the pros and cons or doing what is asked of him for the greater good. It's notable that the greatest act of love Nya does for him (which is sacrificing her humanity in s14) is not only for him, but also to save Ninjago. Again, getting into the subject of the sacrifices she makes to protect others, accepting decisions she doesn't really want to make.

#i think people should stop downplaying the love these two have for each other even if you don't like jaya #i'm not even a jaya fan but the love jay has for nya is still important to his character and viceverse #you CAN criticize how the ship downplays one character or the other instead of treating them equally #(like i will give my soul to the writers if they give jay an arc that doesn't involve nya for the first time since... s1)#but to say that nya doesn't love jay that much or doesn't need him is reducing her entire character to being independent and that's it #instead of acknowledging that they both have VERY different motivations for doing what they do and that they will act differently #i'm patiently waiting for the moment when nya snaps and acts selfishly because of all the shit that happened in dr #pls i need that #ninjago #ninjago nya #ninjago jay #ninjago jaya #ninjago dragons rising #jay walker

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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months ago

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Lamplight. [Not SFW]

Ambessa x GN Reader.

Warnings: Not SFW, fuck or die situation lowkey, unhealthy relationships, implied oral, and spanking.

Word Count: 500.

*~*~*~*

Noxus. The empire across the black sea whose string of fate is as red as the countless corpses it leaves in its wake – as red as the apparent empress’ old clothes.

This isn’t the first time you lay in Ambessa’s bed, but it is the first time her praises sound so foreign, so fake – as fake as a monster putting on human skin in an attempt to disguise itself from its prey – to your ears. You struggle to make your eyes look at her from behind as you lay so messily on her lap. The want to just know if you are forgiven is outweighed by the need to keep your head down until she allows you to rest on her white cotton sheets. New ones per your request – she sighed so loudly as she attempted to explain that you deserve silk ones instead. You pleaded that the former feels better against your sensitive skin – a little white lie; you just couldn’t bear to see stains of you and her litter the very thing you lay atop of. For once she abided, stepping down so that you’re allowed an occasion as rare as a blue moon – having the freedom of choice and having that freedom be respected.

You have forgotten what it meant to have Ambessa controlling the strings of your life, your fate. She was happy to reteach you. You have to pretend to be just as joyous – as you are not certain if she’ll control the strings of your death as well.

“Tell me. Have you learned your lesson?”

Just below her hand is your ass and your thighs – as red as she wants them to be, and as painful as she allows them to be before the cons exceed the pros of punishing you for your insolence.

Her other hand is tangling up your hair, still allowing you the privileges of nodding and seeing her face if you choose to do so. You opt to simply do the first for now – Ambessa’s reactions to just simple motions are always filled with wrath, pride, and greed. Wrath for speaking out. Pride for allowing you to do so in the first place. Greed for you not being the exact image she wants you to be. All of them are connected in this circle of seven sins – you two will always be at its center.

She picks how to treat you based on whichever is the fastest to put you back in your place. No matter what you do, you will be beneath her. You’re treated like an enemy that has lost the war – in exchange for still living, you’ll be her little puppet.

“I have. Thank you for… treating me right.”

Ambessa pushes you off her like you are filth. The kind that someone would throw at her face to ridicule her – spit, mud, a beer that has gone bad.

“Lay down then. Since you seem so tired, I shall do the rest.”

#not sfw #forgive me i have sinned..........#ambessa #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa league of legends #ambessa x reader #ambessa arcane #ambessa smut #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane x reader #league of legends x reader #self indulgent friday #but on saturday

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peachsukii · 9 months ago

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✿ fluff // ✩ comfort // ✶ angst // ♡ nsfw

— 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

✿✶ hollow heart ⇢ pro-hero!bakugo x pro-hero!reader (33k)

The dynamic duo of Dynamight and Deku are unstoppable, climbing the hero charts like they always dreamed of as kids. Reports have noted people going missing, specifically with rare quirks, and with plenty of other heroes being unavailable, you’re chosen to tag along with the duo for the night operation. Everything is going according to plan until the villain lands a surprise attack, resulting in the your kidnapping and whisking you away through a mysterious portal. It’s been a month since your disappearance with no help of the hero agency. Bakugo and Midoriya take it into their own hands and are determined to get you back - no matter how long or what it takes.

✿✶♡ ink & rhythm ⇢ music au: drummer!bakugo x artist!reader (2.4k)

Distortion is the hottest band in town, making waves in the underground scene with their unique sound. Led by your college best friend and music prodigy, Kyoka Jiro, alongside her misfit group of friends, they’ve been playing shows every weekend for the last few months and have gathered a decent following. You’re whisked into the whirlwind of their rockstar lives when Jiro commissions you to design a band logo for their merch, reconnecting with her and meeting the members of the band. Your eyes immediately gravitate to their powerful drummer, Katsuki Bakugo. Fresh out of a nasty three year on/off relationship, he’s not looking for anything or anyone while shutting out the world around him. He’s focused on the one thing that keeps him sane; music. You’re six months free of a breakup as well, looking to repaint your world with new colors and experiences, but turns out it’s more tumultuous than anticipated. Explosive fights, newfound fame, clashing egos, dive bars, stolen kisses, black out dreams, messy exes and hard lessons; but somehow, love finds a way to bloom like a flower in the desert - deep in the hottest, driest wasteland of two broken hearts.

✿✩ 50 first dates ⇢ movie au: marine vet!bakugo x art teacher!reader // 0.k

Katsuki is a dedicated marine veterinarian at Wavecrest Haven, rehabilitating native animals and living out his island life dreams to the fullest. The catch? He only dates tourists to avoid any serious commitments, easily able to bounce from one fling to the other without repercussion. That all changes when he’s forced to wait for a tow truck at a local café after his jeep breaks down, running into a beautiful art teacher sitting alone. He admires her from afar, assuming she’s local and not breaking his “No Locals” rule, only finding himself breaking that rule moments later. He asks to join her and they form an instant connection, agreeing to meet up the following morning for a breakfast date. There’s just one problem - she doesn’t remember anything about Katsuki the following day, insisting they’ve never met before.

✶♡ the knife in you brings out the life in me ⇢ movie au: college bakugo x reader (3.2k)

[ act one | two | three ] College life has been a breeze and you've got everything you've ever wanted — a hot boyfriend, decent grades and a circle of friends you wouldn't trade for the world. That perfect daydream is shattered when a student ends up murdered in their apartment off campus, and somehow, it all leads back to you.

— 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬.

✩ operation: shut down ⇢ senior year of UA (2.6k) Bakugo experiences his first ever “failure” on a supervised patrol during his senior year internship and you’re there to comfort him.

✿ accidental damage ⇢ pro-hero support!reader (2.8k) You’re looking forward to movie day with Bakugo when he gets called on patrol, so you go out shopping instead only to get caught in the middle of a villain attack.

♡ sticky heat ⇢ senior year of UA (3.1k) You & Bakugo are studying for senior year exams when you gets frustrated - he has the perfect solution.

♡ behind closed doors ⇢ bakugo x fem!reader x deku (2.0k) You come home to a surprise one night of Deku and Bakugo making out in your bed!

✿♡ unexpected treasure ⇢ pro-hero!bakugo x ex pro-hero!reader (2.9k) When Bakugo gets caught up in the office after his patrol, you decide to send him some spicy semi-nudes in your hero suit with one sentence - “bringing you a surprise, stay in your office.”

♡ insatiable ⇢ pro-hero!bakugo x pro-hero!reader (3.7k) Bakugo’s been away for an entire month on a mission and comes home early as a surprise, but little did he know just how much you missed him.

♡ cruel compulsions ⇢ senior year of UA (2.4k) As a new transfer from a neighboring hero academy to UA, class 3A welcomes you with open arms. You fit in with the class seamlessly, with the exception of one person - Katsuki Bakugo. He doesn’t give you the time of day, ignoring you any chance he gets since he views you as an “outsider.” At least, that’s what he projects and not how he truly feels.

✿ unbreakable bonds ⇢ no quirks au (3.0k) A collective of family bonding and little moments between you and Katsuki.

♡ on the rocks ⇢ pro-hero!bakugo (2.6k) Your week couldn’t get any worse. Between a screw up at work and getting dumped out of the blue, you needed to desperately let off some steam. Thank goodness the girls were more than happy to take you out for the night in the city and spoil you with a good time. Everything’s fine until you receive a text that spirals into an unpredicted hookup.

✿✩ this pain wouldn't be forever more. ⇢ support tech!reader (5.7k) It's your final year of UA High, an achievement that should be celebrated and joyous, but you couldn't believe just how much has changed in such a short amount of time. One thing you never thought you'd have to deal with is the potential of losing your best friend and being powerless to stop it.

♡✿ drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar ⇢ college AU (2.2k) It was one time…until it wasn’t. You and Bakugo were both single, what’s the harm in sleeping with your best friend?

♡ last updated: 10/25/24

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『 © peachsukii & zanarkandskylines on archive of our own — please do not steal, plagiarize, modify, translate or repost any of my content. Do not use my content for AI purposes. ♡ 』

#bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #mha #bnha #dynamight #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha bakugo #mha bakugo #character masterlist

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whateverisbeautiful · 5 months ago

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♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#45: The Son's Best Friend (1.05)

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

He was in love with his son’s best friend. 😭

I had said there were two big lines in TOWL that would basically need a whole reflective post dedicated to them. And one of those lines was Michonne telling Rick the only time she feels safe is when she’s with him in ep 4. The other is this line here in ep 5 where Rick just makes every Richonne moment in TWD even better by confirming that before Richonne became canon, Rick was well aware that he was in love with Carl’s best friend 🥹...

In any post I have on Richonne's season 6 canon scene I have always expressed that it is so clear Rick is fully aware he’s in love with her before they sit on that couch. He knows. Not subconsciously but consciously knows he’s in love with Michonne before they ever kiss.

And for Rick to confirm this years later was just heavenly and it has given me a lot of new thoughts on Richonne’s TWD journey. So you know we gotta go in-depth and talk about it. 😋

After talking about RJ and Judith, Rick turns the attention back to Michonne when he holds up some toothpaste. And I love the playful way he says, “I got you something.”

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I always love a good callback so it’s great hearing him say this when he also told Michonne, "I got you something” regarding the mints during their season 6 canon episode.

Back then he had to make do with mints since the toothpaste sunk to the bottom of a lake - but now years later, Rick finally got her that toothpaste she wanted. Soon as he got it, she did. 😭

I really do marvel over the way TOWL came and just checked pretty much every possible Richonne thing we could have wanted and didn’t even know we wanted off the list.

And seeing Rick get this toothpaste was such a great full-circle callback to the episode where Richonne became official. Dental hygiene has been blessing the Richonne ship since season 5, y’all. And we’re still getting blessed by it in 2024. 🙌🏽

I’ve also always loved that Rick remembers every detail about Michonne so of course he remembers the exact flavor of toothpaste she likes as he walks over to her and says, “I think it was baking soda and spearmint. As requested.” So cute and Rick is the only man ever, just saying. 😋

gif cred: @ex0rin

I love his little playful flirty energy and that Michonne laughs as she immediately remembers the moment he’s calling back to. Michonne being courted by Rick is one of my favorite things and I love seeing her be so smitten by her handsome man yet again. Rick and Michonne are both a pro at getting each other to laugh and smile. 👌🏽

Then I love that she takes the toothpaste and all flirtily says, “Man of his word.” The way she’s smiling at him is so sweet. And then she says, “it only took a couple lifetimes” because they really have lived a whole lot of life since that day in season 6.

gif cred: @ex0rin

And then next, y’all…I was attacked. I was attacked with a line so good it stayed stuck in my head for weeks. 😊

Because Rick then looks at Michonne and says,

“I was in love with my son’s best friend. I didn’t know what to do.” 🫠

The best. 😭😭😭

gif cred: @ex0rin

I had been hoping that TOWL would give Richonne a reflective moment to talk about and look back on their love story and this was such a great way to do it. It explains so much.

The ‘I was in love with my son's best friend’ line really is informative and got me reflecting back on Richonne's journey in The Walking Dead. And something that hit me was thinking about the tail end of season 4 - which I've always felt Rick was most definitely in love with Michonne by then.

I used to think it was only subconscious for him at that point but honestly...now I like to think he was even more aware he was in love with her than I originally thought at this time. He still was dealing with a lot mentally and externally of course, but he knew the love he had for Michonne was different in 4b.

And here’s where the son’s best friend part factors in - Rick realizes he’s in love with Michonne in 4b and what he also knows full well is that his son adores her and needs her. So at the same time that he’s realizing his feelings for Michonne, Carl is also forming this invaluable bond with Michonne. And Rick very clealry sees that.

gif cred: @tangerineprettygreen

Rick sees the way Carl genuinely laughs and has fun with Michonne over breakfast and on the train tracks. He sees how after the horrific trauma with the Claimers, Carl feels safe enough to fall asleep in Michonne’s lap. (I like to think that Rick opened the car door to say it was time to head out and he saw his baby restful in her arms)

And while that’s more of a headcanon, we literally see Rick watch Michonne and Carl have a heart-to-heart in the forest that concludes with a hug during the s4 finale.

All of this is part of why this line in TOWL ep 5 is so fitting. Because during that s4 era, Rick had this romantic love for Michonne rising to the surface within him, but he also felt he needed to not act on those feelings because he saw his son needed Michonne just as much.

Every time Rick started looking at Michonne with those ILY eyes, he just had to look slightly to the side and see Carl looking up at Michonne as his best friend and safe space. And so as a caring dad, Rick didn't want to risk getting in the way of Carl and Michonne's bond.

But as Michonne says - Richonne's love can’t be denied - and it also can’t be avoided. So while Rick thought he could fend off or table his feelings - or idk what he thought he could do actually because he didn’t know what to do either - but any denial of their love was always going to be futile because Richonne was inevitable. They were meant to be. 😌

And one of the things that will always make my heart smile is knowing that Carl clearly seemed to feel Rick and Michonne were meant to be too, because he truly was not at all shocked when they finally got together.

When Carl found out about Richonne he fully approved and looked like the only thing that surprised him was that it hadn’t happened already. My boy Carl was looking at both Rick and Michonne with some 'duh, I been knew' energy the day after they got together. 😋

(Also, kids are super perceptive so I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Carl could tell Rick was a lot happier in his relationship with Michonne than in his previous marriage.)

It turned out Rick never had to be worried about his love for Michonne complicating things between Michonne and Carl because not only was Richonne meant to be but so was Grimes Family 2.0.

They were always going to be the family they became because that’s just how destiny works. Beautiful destiny. 😌

(Side note: A few years ago I wrote a RIR post about that season 4 moment when Rick asks Michonne if she needs help cleaning up those walkers. To me, it really felt like Rick might have been intentionally waking up early to see Michonne. And after this “I was in love with my son's best friend” line now I'm just convinced that it’s true. 😋 Rick wanted to spend some alone time with his crush in that s4 scene. 👌🏽 Hence his cute little pouty face when Michonne warmly declined.)

And I love that Rick also admits he didn’t know what to do about the fact that he’d fallen in love with his son's best friend. That implies he thought about what to do and just came up short with an answer because he so badly didn’t want to potentially jeopardize Michonne’s vital role in his family’s life by trying to advance the relationship if it wasn’t something she also wanted.

It's funny how Rick and Michonne are very observant people but were hesitant to know for sure that the other really was into them romantically pre-canon. Even despite all the blatant attraction between them both. 😊

Had Rick or Michonne been observing any other two characters interact in the same way they do, they would have quickly clocked that the two have feelings for each other. But between them, they thought they had to ‘work up to’ finding out if the feeling was mutual when really they’ve been the others for the taking pretty much since season 4.

But it makes perfect sense that what took Rick so long to make his move wasn’t solely the world screaming at them, or the Lori baggage and PTSD he needed to heal from - it was also that he felt he’d need to tread lightly with his son’s best friend and not do anything to get in the way of Michonne and Carl's connection.

With what a loverboy Rick is, it actually would track that when love hit him he’d become aware of it sooner rather than later. Plus, the time between TWD 4.15 when Rick was looking at Michonne like 😍 on those train tracks & TWD 6.10 when Richonne got together on that couch was years for us but it was a much shorter span of time for the characters.

If Rick knew by the end of season 4 that he was in love with Michonne, to me his actions in season 5 really further solidify that he was in love with her and was at least somewhat aware that love was part of why she has so much influence on him and his decisions.

And when I think about it, even if Rick knew he was in love with Michonne at the end of season 4, there was hardly any room or privacy to forwardly act on the realization of those feelings during the majority of season 5.

They were busy escaping the jaws of cannibals, traveling on the road with scarce resources and team family always around, searching for a home base, and then arriving at ASZ, a place that initially put Rick more on edge than when they were roughing it outside the walls.

So that, on top of feeling like he can’t and won’t intervene in his son’s friendship with her by making his feelings known, makes a lot of sense as to why it took Rick the time it did to finally make his move.

But even at a time where the weight of the world was on Rick's shoulders and so few could reach him in season 5, Michonne always could. She had his heart and there are moments in s5 where Rick could even be hinting that he knows she has his heart too.

I think about the 'Rules Keep Changing' scene in TWD 5.11 when Rick talks to Michonne about the rules changing regarding when to let someone in. After TOWL, I feel like that moment can be interpreted as Rick slowly coming around to maybe changing the rule that he can’t be with Michonne because she’s Carl’s bestie.

And you know what we gotta address next - when team family arrives at Alexandria, even the extremely brief and messy Jessie situation further aligns with Rick being in love with his son’s best friend if I do say so myself.

With Rick entering ASZ in love with a woman he's told himself is off limits because of his son, that would likely make Rick even more eager to divert that existing energy within him elsewhere since he at the time doesn’t feel he can bring that energy to his sons best friend, despite being in love with her.

It's like, on top of being rooted in his PTSD and paranoia, intervening with the Anderson situation gave Rick something to preoccupy that in-love-with-Michonne part of himself that he's trying to deny.

Even tho Rick still very much does bring that 'ILY' energy to Michonne in so many of Richonne's season 5b/6a scenes. Like how he's very adamant about securing the home she wants, how he 'signs the papers' with ASZ after Michonne confides in him about wanting a job and wanting this place to work, and how he directly lets her know that he knows she could've successfully talked him out of his under-the-table plans.

(Side note: The more I see this great Richonne season 5 finale scene, the more I feel like Rick actively wants to hint to Michonne that she's it for him with everything he's saying and doing here. It's just our girl Michonne was not yet translating all these signs from him as romantic interest in her, even tho Slick Rick was real obvious)

Also I noticed how the driving force of that whole thing with Jessie was never really rooted in Rick thinking ‘I want her’ but rather ‘She needs me.’

Rick mainly seemed to be thinking about how he was right for Jessie as a woman in need of protection, and he never really seemed to be assessing if she was right for him too. Never seemed to be considering his compatibility with her or focusing in on her based on anything unique/specific about her beyond surface-level attraction and the fact that she resembled what he was used to with Lori.

He didn’t evaluate any specifics or long-term outcomes with that Anderson situation (like how Carl would feel about all this) and he didn't tell anyone close to him about his dazed pursuit of her. And now I think that part of that is because Rick already knew the woman who was right for him. He knew the woman who had his heart and love already.

But the woman he wants is the woman he thinks he can't have because, being the selfless guy he is, he was not going to interfere with his son's relationship with his favorite person, even if Michonne had become Rick's favorite person too.

Women like Lori and Jessie were the type who would need to rely heavily on Rick’s protection to survive that world. And that's what Rick had been accustomed to. It's how he came to understand his own worth and value - through what he can do to save and rescue others.

However, Michonne doesn’t need Rick to survive in that way - but she does need him to live.

Michonne ushered in a whole new territory for Rick. One that was so refreshing and welcomed because she and him could lean on each other and not have things be one-sided. And I've always appreciated the way two very capable characters like Rick and Michonne so deeply and healthily need each other even with their individual capabilities. And I'm so happy with how that need for each other evolved into the deepest love for each other.

It just has always been so clear that by the time Rick kissed Michonne in s6 he was already fully in love with her. On that couch, they both kissed each other like they'd been wanting to do that a long while. That's part of why once Rick and Michonne kissed, their status didn't feel like gf/bf but husband and wife.

(Side note: I love how in TWD 6.11 Jesus assumed Rick and Michonne were Carl’s parents after walking in on them in the bedroom. That was Richonne’s very first time sleeping together and Jesus still quickly got the vibe that Rick and Michonne were in a committed relationship. ☺️)

(Another side note: it wasn't until this year that I noticed there's a quick wordless moment on that couch in 6.10 where Rick looks at Michonne and subtly gets permission to get on top of her. 😊 As many times as I've seen Richonne scenes there's always something new to catch.)

This immense love Richonne has for each other - it's not just made out to be this romantic and powerful in their spin-off series, it’s what it’s always been.

And when Rick and Michonne finally got together in 6.10 it wasn’t ushering in this wildly new dynamic between them - it was simply acknowledging their existing married dynamic and finally adding physical intimacy to the union.

Also, another one of the million things that I love about Richonne's first kiss in season 6 is that it seems like they immediately know this is right. Them being together romantically felt so right to them. And not only was connecting that way as good as they thought it'd be...it was even better. 😌

And after their canon ep, Rick was definitely of the mindset that he and Michonne were a ‘together forever’ couple in the way he was telling Michonne's bestie Carl 'This is different' the very next morning. 😋 Rick and Michonne were just in bed what a few hours ago? And Rick still already knew for certain what he has with Michonne is different and long-term. ☺️

Knowing he knew for a while that he was in love with his son's best friend, it makes it even more clear why Rick had that nervous energy when finally telling his son about him and Michonne. Behind that RV, Rick felt like he was approaching Carl not just as his son but as Michonne's best friend. Rick wanted to assure Carl that he has good intentions with his best friend since he knows how much Carl loves and is protective of Michonne.

Rick told Carl, "I was gonna tell you about me and Michonne..." and I'm convinced Rick meant that for a while he's been meaning to tell Carl about him and Michonne, not just since the night before.

(Side note: I was thinking about that scene in 6.12 when Rick leads a meeting in the church, telling ASZ about the plan to take out the Saviors. I always noticed how Rick ends the meeting by seemingly just walking out while they’re all still sitting there...and now, no one can tell me Rick didn’t walk out to go straight to moving Michonne’s stuff into his room. 😂

I believe this was their first time back home since his night with Michonne so Rick was like ‘listen community, I have some equally important matters to attend to like moving a bunch of tight pants and tank tops into my bedroom dresser so meeting adjourned.’ 👌🏽😋)

So now that I personally interpret that Rick was aware that he had fallen in love with Michonne earlier than previously thought, it led me to wonder about when I think Michonne was aware she'd fallen in love with him. While Rick and Michonne fell in love around the same time in season 4 to me, I feel Michonne became conscious of her feelings at a later time than Rick.

I'd say Rick knew his feelings for her before they entered ASZ. Like somewhere in between the train tracks scene in 4.15 and when Michonne takes Rick's hand outside the gates of ASZ in 5.11, he knows he's in love. And I think Michonne started to know consciously that she’d fallen in love with Rick after her chat with Deanna about what she wanted for herself.

It makes sense it would take a bit longer for Michonne to process and be aware of her feelings considering the losses and isolation she’d experienced at the start of the end of the world. She had a lot of time to wall up her heart after losing Mike and Andre, whereas Rick, even after he lost Lori, still had kids and a group he had to be present for.

Michonne was aware she felt safe with Rick and that he meant a lot to her for a while, but she just had to come around to fully realizing she was also utterly in love with him all this time too.

And again, it is always a little funny to me that Michonne thought she had to 'work up to' making her feelings known to Rick and seeing if it’s mutual when so many team family and ASZ members could already see that Rick and Michonne had something special between them and were each other's person.

(Another nother side note: I know we've wondered before why the show didn’t explore more men showing interest in Michonne when she’s an absolute catch in every way, but I think I might know why men weren’t more directly approaching her on that type of timing. After season 3 when the group was really small, season 4a when she was keeping herself at a friendly distance from tf, and 4b when she was pretty much only around the Grimes boys, she then had Rick Grimes - and Season 5 'Ain’t Nothing To Play With' Rick Grimes at that - showing clear signs that Michonne was the special woman in his life. I don’t think many men were gonna be bold enough to risk interfering with that when Richonne was basically out here already spoken for and living about as 'married with kids' as could be even before they became an official couple. 😅)

Also just hearing Michonne be referred to as Carl’s best friend again after all these years is so special. 🥹

She really was his best friend from season 4 to the very end, and I love that Rick has always known and appreciated that about Michonne and Carl’s tight-knit bond.

So then I'm extra elated when Rick adds, “Then you asked for that toothpaste. I was damned if I didn’t find something.” 🫠💕

gif cred: @ex0rin

Every time I’ve watched that domestic opening scene in their canon ep, I’d always think about how clear it is that Rick was going to be adamant to bring home something to give Michonne. And that 'something' he found - those mints - will always hold a special place in their journey. 🥰

That’s another great thing about TOWL too is it allows you to watch Richonne's TWD journey with fresh eyes. Like the TWD Richonne moments already never got old but now not only do they not get old they almost feel a little fresh and new too.

And I love watching their moment on the couch and knowing when Rick reaches for those mints he's well aware that he pocketed those because he’s in love with her and wanted to show he could provide what Michonne wanted.

Like he acts like 'oh yeah I forgot, I have these mints'…but nah that was not an afterthought. That was a move lol. 😋 And honey, the move worked. 👌🏽

Rick was on that run with Daryl like if I do nothing else today I got to find something for her. He’s loved her a long time, y'all. We been knew and now it’s more than confirmed and it’s great. 🙌🏽

I love how, even after all these years, Rick still remembers the details of the day he and Michonne took their relationship to a new level and that he now gets to recall the details with Michonne. Just as his dreams suggested, falling in love with Michonne and Michonne falling in love with him are some of the things Rick is most grateful for in his life, so of course he remembers these things. I'm sure that man could give a play-by-play of that entire 6.10 day, from the morning to night. 😋

And I love that Rick wants Michonne to know he remembers. He wants her to know that everything about her and their love story is important to him. 🥲

Then it’s so sweet how Michonne hears this and pulls Rick in close to let him know, “You found your moment.” He really did, because bringing home those mints set off a canon. 😌

gif cred: @ex0rin

And then I love their flirty energy with Rick asking, “Is this one?” And Michonne all cutely shrugging and being like, look into my eyes, sir... “You tell me.” 😏 The way she’s smiling at him 🥹 - she’s down bad for her man y'all and it makes total sense.

Also, them playing all coy about whether this is a moment always makes me laugh cuz Richonne can turn any and every moment into a moment. 😋

Like they had a whole horny moment when CRM soldiers were just a few feet away and they didn't even try to align behind the bark of that boneless tree. They also had a quick makeout session mere seconds before a giant building collapsed. So they knew good and well this was a moment in the gift shop. It’s always a moment for Richonne, and we love this about them. 😇

gif cred: @nat111love

And because it’s always a moment, Rick leans in as they kiss and it’s just the best yet again. The way they said kissing is going to be embedded in the plot wherever it can is yet another TOWL blessing.

I love the kiss and then I especially love that Rick then kisses her neck. Prior to the show, I had been hoping for a Richonne gesture like this in TOWL and we got it cuz Richonne is the gift that keeps on giving and we’re spoiled.😋 They made me and @ririchonne's wish come true 🙌🏽😌

gif cred: @lousolversons

Also, Richonne has the best grown youthful love in media if you ask me and this moment was giving young energetic love in the best way. They have so many kisses in TOWL and each one is hot and sweet. 💯

So as they’re again getting lost in their blissful Richonne bubble, Michonne spots something and pulls away, and I love how Rick was so immersed in what they had going on that he’s a little caught off guard when she does that. 😋

And it’s so sweet that Michonne knows this and whispers, "sorry," giving him another kiss before checking out the front desk place. I love that little kiss and the way his arms are still around her until the last second.

Michonne notes that there’s a cabin nearby and Rick asks if she saw the sign on the road. Michonne smiles and takes a key, saying, “Looks like we found a place to stay for the night.” Fuel, food, room and board - I’m telling you, the Universe loves providing for Richonne because they know they’re the best soulmates in the land. 💁🏽‍♀️

gif cred: @nat111love

I love that when Richonne are in sync with each other, things just work out. And Rick notes this as he says, “Luck keeps holding up.” Normally those would be famous last words, but for Richonne they really do just win. 👌🏽

Now, I saw that there was originally a little flirty endbeat to this scene in the script that got cut. If that was filmed then I hope they release it as a deleted scene cuz I'm greedy when it comes to Richonne lol.🤞🏽 Either way, what did make the cut was excellent and I love that there was just so much Richonne gold within one scene.🥰

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne was in love with her best friend's dad. 🥲 Rick was in love with his son's best friend. 🥲 And my heart will always be warmed thinking about how Rick knew he was in love with his son’s best friend and now that very woman has given him a son that he’ll soon get to meet. 🥲

Rick really went from being in love with his son’s best friend to being in love with his sons' and daughter’s mother. What a journey. 👌🏽🥹

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.05 #RIR (45)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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imagination-mess · 1 year ago

Text

Reality Show: Pro Heroes Wives (Shinso Hitoshi Edition)

Reality Show Masterlist (All Editions)

There is a reality show where pro-heroes' wives are on television and paid to be there. It is filled with juicy gossip and pure drama. There are few wives in this second season who were kept out of the spotlight, which adds mystery and creates theories about who they were married to.

The same winners who were in the group that couldn’t be identified are back this season as a surprise challenge. Unlike last season, it wasn’t revealed at the very beginning of this reason which Pro Heroes wives would be featured.

There are only a few left without being matched, which were mostly underground heroes who people don’t typically pay attention to. Half of the cast already knew each other because their spouses had interacted on more than one occasion and were disqualified from participating in the weekend challenge of the show for those spouses. The others who did not know their spouses had to identify them, but the others couldn’t spill anything that would clue who their spouse was.

You, however, were making headlines and trending throughout social media for your wicked punch, knocking out Pro Hero [Blank] with a sharp uppercut punch after receiving a punch from them.

It was unexpected for the fans of the show to see another side of you since you always kept close to your friends and did the bare minimum to stay within the competition. You were barely involved in other people’s business. You are mostly found in the background, watching the drama unfold in front of your eyes.

The Pro Hero [Blank] had punched you in the face because you were ripping her apart from your words alone, causing her to have an emotional reaction. You were brutal with your words. It was also oblivious that you were purposely riling her up with the way you were openly mocking her. With a wicked grin, you intimidated her when the hero was trying to rip you apart while dodging her next attacks.

She was talking shit about your husband and claiming he shouldn’t even have licenses to be a pro-hero. She claims to have known him since middle school, and he will always remain a freak. Despite his being in the top 20, which was completely unintentional on his part,

Her friends that she made during her time on the show eventually join in attacking you verbally to only get their own medicine, taking them apart by their insecurities and such. It was clear her friends were ganging up on you while your friends were gone.

You were ripping them apart and letting it all out because you have seen over and over how these people have to make side comments and belittle the other spouses in the house, including your friends. It was just her comment on Shinsou that threw you over the edge.

Who would have known the way to trigger you was by badmouthing your husband?

You ripped the Pro Hero [Blank] a new one and got punched as a result, but it was oblivious that you wanted it to happen. You purposely provoked her even more and unintentionally knocked them out on live television because they were trying to play dirty by attacking from behind. It was out of reflex because of the years of training you have. Your body just reacted.

People do what they do best: search on the web to find out who you are. You aren’t as popular as the Pro Hero to only find out you are worth way more than the hero. You also have a history of being the bully toward other bullies throughout middle and high school. You were an absolute menace in your younger years. Your former classmates coming to the internet to tell stories about you include those who were with you in martial arts and boxing clubs.

There were thirst traps and edits created by fans circling the internet. The fans of the show couldn’t tell if it was a loyal friend's or spouse's reaction based on the stories circling the media.

At home, the hero couldn’t help the smile that climbed up his lips. You didn’t even know, but that specific hero is someone he would never forget since they spread rumors about him in his earlier years of being in school. Those rumors stuck with him up until middle school.

Karma is a bitch.

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luckyroll3 · 19 days ago

Text

Quid Pro Quo: Chapter 2

Masterlist and Summary

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, some violence, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 10,816

The scent of coffee mingles with Chan's cologne as you lean over his shoulder, watching him scribble furiously on the practice exam. His brow furrows in concentration, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor.

"Time's up," you announce, plucking the paper from his hands. Chan groans dramatically and leans back in his chair, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. You sit next to him and pull out your red pen.

As you grade his exam, curiosity gets the better of you. "How’d it go with that girl from the bar?"

Chan's signature dimpled grin appears. "Oh, you know. She invited me back to her dorm. We had some fun."

You roll your eyes but can't suppress a smile. "Of course she did. Who could resist all that cocky energy and swag? What kind of ‘fun’ did you have?"

“The kind of ‘fun’ that you and I have had, but also the kind of ‘fun’ that we haven’t.” He smirks. You shake your head as you continue grading. "What about you and your boyfriend?" Chan asks, his tone surprisingly genuine. "How's that going?"

"It's good," you reply, a warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of Changbin. "Really good.” You place a couple of checkmarks on the paper. “Actually, he knows you. From the Saturday soccer games? Changbin?"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up. "Binnie? The loud, super swol guy from the frat? Really? That’s your man? Small world."

“Yup.” You circle an error and add a question mark.

“Sooooo, you’re the Virgin Mary. Ha!” Chan slaps his thigh and stamps his feet as he laughs it up.

You stop grading for a second to look at him, your eyes questioning. “Excuse me? The what?”

“The Virgin Mary,” Chan repeats, still chuckling. “That’s what they call you.”

“Bin doesn’t call me that. He better not call me that,” you say sassily. “I'd kick his fucking ass.”

“He doesn’t, but his douche-ass frat bros do. They always make fun of him for all the cold showers he has to take.” Chan continues laughing at your expense.

“I’m sure they call me lots of things. It’s not even very original. Do they think I’m saving myself for Jesus?” you snort, shaking your head before turning your attention back to his practice exam. “But they’re also not the brightest people; I don’t know if Bin would be in that frat if he wasn’t a legacy.”

He chuckles. “Very true.” He pauses, studying you, taking in the turquoise floral sundress currently hugging your frame, one of the thin straps hanging off your right shoulder. His eyes land on your cleavage for a bit before returning to your face. "So, why does someone who looks like you and has such a cool personality so... inexperienced?"

“Someone who looks like me?”

“Yes. Let’s not pretend that you don’t know you’re fucking hot. And I say that totally respectfully.” He lifts his hands up as if in surrender.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks. You’ve gotten this question before, though you usually ignore it. You’re not sure why you feel compelled to answer when Chan asks. "I am fucking hot,” you say casually with a smirk that makes Chan’s grin widen. “I've been focused on school. You think engineering is hard? Try majoring in astrophysics! And NASA only interviews the top 1%. Guess how many of those are women? Getting to NASA has been my only priority for years; since I was 15.” You notice Chan listening attentively in your periphery. “There also weren’t many guys that I’ve been interested in. I mean I went on dates and stuff, but I never cared to do more with them. For a while there, I thought I might be asexual. And then Bin came along and….”

“And you started tingling in places?” Chan finished for you in a sing-song voice.

“Ha! Yes, I guess you could say that. I started tingling in lots of places. Changbin's the first guy I've ever really wanted more with." You wonder why you’re being so open with Chan. The only other person you’ve shared any of this with was your best friend from back home.

"Hmmm. And how's he been dealing with the whole no-sex thing?" Chan leans forward, genuinely curious. "I can go without for about 2 weeks, but then I’m dying. Guy must be a saint."

You laugh, nodding. "He is. He’s a fucking saint. I’ve had guys try to guilt me into more or even attempt to force themselves on me. Not Binnie. He’s the most respectful guy I’ve ever met. He’s super cuddly and affectionate. He's been so patient and kind to me and he’s never asked for more. It's just one of the many reasons I'm falling in love with him."

Chan's eyes widen. "Love? After a year? Without any intimacy?"

You shrug, feeling a bit defensive of your relationship. "We haven’t said the words yet. But we're emotionally intimate. We share everything except our bodies."

Chan shakes his head, chuckling. "Not my style. Ugh, fuck feelings. I prefer to keep things purely physical."

You slide his exam back across the table. "Well, to each their own. Being a fuck boy works for you and being the reincarnated virgin mother works for me. You only got 5 out of 20 wrong. Not bad, Channie."

Chan's laughter fills the room as he spots the gold star sticker you've added. "Really? A gold star? What am I, five?"

“It’s motivation! There’s more where that came from,” you say waving the sticker sheet in his face.

As he grins at you, dimples on full display, you can't help but wonder if there's more to Chan than his playboy facade.

Later that evening, Chan continues your lesson on foreplay, introducing you first to fingering. His hands are strong yet surprisingly gentle as they caress your inner thighs, teasing you with featherlight touches before moving his hand beneath your dress, then slowly sliding your panties down your legs. He slips a finger inside you. You gasp at the new sensation of being stimulated by fingers that aren’t your own.

"Just relax," he says softly. "I'll go slow."

Chan adds another finger, curling them expertly within you until you're trembling with pleasure. His eyes darken with lust, but his expression remains tender.

"How does that feel?" he asks softly.

You manage a breathless, "Amazing."

You gasp and squirm as Chan's fingers stroke your most intimate parts. His touch sends tingles radiating through your core and your body craves more of it.

"Does Changbin know about this?" Chan murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His fingers slide deeper as your back arches into his touch. “Me ‘tutoring’ you, I mean.”

"N-no," you stammer, flushed with arousal. You've kept these private lessons secret.

Chan hums thoughtfully, working you with steady, skillful fingers. "Think he'd be jealous, knowing I touch you like this?"

You bite your lip, holding back a moan. Chan notices.

“Don’t hold back. Let it out. Let me know how you feel.” You follow his instructions and moan loudly. “Good girl.”

You think back to his question, letting your mind imagine Changbin's potential reaction to all of this. He rarely gets angry and he’s not really the jealous type, but this is a very unique situation you’ve placed yourself in. “I’m not sure,” you finally answer in between your moans. “But since there’s no feelings involved here, I don’t think he’d be that upset.”

Chan smiles and continues pleasuring you with his fingers. "No feelings involved, huh? That's good to know."

“Your rules, sir,” you barely get out under your breath. “I just live by them.” You let your eyelids fall close gently.

Chan laughs softly. “In my experience, boyfriends tend not to like other guys seducing their girls. Especially not by fuck boys with reputations like mine.” His breath ghosts across your neck as he leans in, whispering into your ear. "Have you ever had an orgasm before?”

You nod your head slowly.

“You masturbate?”

“Regularly,” you whisper.

“Oh really?” Chan seems amused by this, his eyes lighting up. “So you know what an orgasm feels like.” You nod again. “But no one else has made you cum before?” His voice is low.

You shake your head. “No,” you admit verbally, the word barely audible. Your breaths start to quicken.

“Getting to be your first will be an honor then.”

“Why are men always so fixated on being ‘the first’?” you whisper, curious about the male psyche.

“We’re genetically programmed to be conquerors,” he whispers back softly. “It’s literally ingrained in our DNA. You know, the sequence of genes on the Y-chromosome in most modern males that they’ve been able to trace directly back to Genghis Khan?” You feel like you’ve just been transported into a National Geographic documentary narrated by someone who does voiceovers for erotica audiobooks.

Your eyes pop open, wide with bewilderment as you stare at him. “Who the fuck are you?” you blurt out with a laugh.

He laughs, a deep and hearty sound that fills the room. “What? I read! Now stop getting distracted!”

“Stop distracting me then, Chan,” you retort playfully as you return your gaze to the ceiling.

He places his free hand on your face and gently brushes your eyelids down. “Close your eyes and enjoy.” And with that simple command, all thoughts and distractions vanish from your mind as you surrender yourself completely to him.

His fingers curl inside you as his thumb presses firmly against your clit before he starts rotating it in small, quick circles that have you seeing stars. You feel his other hand slip the strap of your dress off your shoulder to reveal one of your tits; seconds later, he starts to twist the nipple. Then you feel the warmth as his lips encircle it and he flicks it with his tongue. Your breath hitches, body trembling. Your climax builds, your moans growing louder.

“No one is here. You can get as loud as you want,” he says as he kisses across your cleavage, encouraging you. His mouth returns to your nipple and he sucks gently.

Chan works you higher and higher until you cry out, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of blissful release.

As you catch your breath, Chan gently withdraws his hand and places a soft kiss on your neck, before he respositions the strap on your shoulder to cover your chest. "How was that for your first time?"

"Amazing," you pant, still tingling from the aftershocks.

“You said that already.”

You open your eyes and turn your head to look at him. “Sensational, extraordinary, phenomenal, stupendous, thrilling, wondrous, spectacular,” you tease with a smirk.

Chan grins, entertained by your sass. "I aim to please."

As the two of you sit next to each other on the bed taking a break, he invites you to ask him anything. He hands you a bottle of water.

When you finish taking a generous gulp, you decide to ask him a personal question. “What’s the real reason you’re hesitant about relationships?”

Chan looks thoughtful for a moment before speaking. "I guess I've just had some bad experiences in the past that made me wary," he says. He pauses again. “My high school girlfriend broke my heart,” he says finally after a minute.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was my first real relationship. We dated all through high school. I was so in love with her, I naively thought we'd be together forever. Dumb right?” He looks up at you for for confirmation.

“No. Not at all,” you say softly.

“Right before senior prom, she dumped me out of the blue. Then she showed up to prom with another guy; turned out she’d been cheating on me with him for a few months. I was devastated," he says quietly, looking down at his hands. “It messed me up,” he admits.

He pauses, taking a shaky breath. You reach for his hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. Chan looks up at you, his eyes glistening.

"After that, I promised myself I wouldn't let myself get that emotionally invested again. I just started hooking up with girls, no strings attached. No feelings, no way to get hurt.”

You listen intently, surprised at his openness. This is a more vulnerable side of him that you haven't seen before.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," you say sincerely. “She sounds like a bitch.”

"Thanks.” He gives you a small smile. “And she is a bitch. It's been three years, which feels like a lifetime ago, but I guess I still have some walls up when it comes to dating. I don't let many people get too close.”

"But sometimes the walls we build for protection can also end up isolating us," you say gently.

Chan nods slowly, his expression weighted with a mix of resignation and sadness. "I know.” His voice is strained with emotion. He looks away, sniffing as he wipes away the single tear that manages to escape his control.

You reach over and give him a tight hug, holding him against your chest. You feel his body relax into yours, welcoming the protective embrace. He breathes against you quietly for a few minutes while you rub his back. You want nothing more than to just be there as a friend and soothe him, and he allows you to.

“Okay, whoo!” he huffs as he pulls away, shaking his arms and head vigorously as if casting off all of his emotional demons. “Too many fucking emotions! No feelings involved, remember?” He chuckles softly as he attempts to recollect himself and lighten the heavy atmosphere.

“Yup, I remember. Fuck feelings.” You smile at him, giving his hand one more squeeze to silently acknowledge his pain and the complications that come with emotions before letting go.

“And not a word of this to anyone.”

“Not a word. Scouts honor.” You lock your mouth with an imaginary key and toss it over your shoulder. “No one will ever know that the notorious Bang Chan cried from a broken heart,” you say with a teasing smile.

A genuine grin spreads across his face as he recovers from the emotional moment. “Thank you.” He releases a relieved sigh. “Let’s get back to it then. Let me teach you how to give a hand job.”

Chan leans back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. "Alright, pay close attention," he says with a smirk.

He unzips his jeans and slides them down just past his hips, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, already half-hard. You can't help but stare, intrigued.

He lays back fully. You watch with curiosity as he loosely wraps his hand around his shaft. "Watch what I do," he instructs. Chan starts with slow, languid strokes, gradually increasing his pace. "See how I'm moving my hand up and down, gripping firmly but not too tight," he narrates. You watch, mesmerized, as his cock gradually swells and hardens in his hand. “And you can switch it up.” He varies his pace and grip, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. His breathing grows heavier as he pleasures himself. His head tips back and his eyes flutter shut as soft moans escape his lips.

You can't take your eyes off him. Seeing the usually cocky Chan so vulnerable and unrestrained excites you. He bites his lips as he focuses on chasing his release. The way his abdominal muscles contract with each stroke, the sight of precum beading at his tip, the rapid rise and fall of his chest… You feel yourself getting turned on just from observing.

After a few minutes, Chan's breathing starts to become more ragged. His hips rock up to meet the rhythm of his pumping fist. "Fuck, I'm close," he groans through gritted teeth. "That’s way too quick. I think I’m being turned on by having an audience... Here, you try." Chan takes your hand and guides it to replace his own. You wrap your fingers around his thick, hot shaft, mimicking his motions.

Chan hisses in pleasure, his hips bucking reflexively into your touch. "Mmm... yeah just like that," he encourages breathily. He covers your hand with his own, showing you how to stroke him. His cheeks become flushed.

You gain confidence, pumping him faster, gripping tighter. He releases your hand and lets you work independently. Chan’s mouth opens as he pants, completely lost in ecstasy. His hips start to buck erratically. "Fuuuck, don't stop," he groans. Sweat beads on his forehead.

You can feel his cock pulse in your hand. Keeping your gaze locked on him, you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum leaking from his slit.

"Oh god, just like that," Chan whimpers before saying your name. His whole body tenses, abs clenching. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna...," he chokes out before releasing a guttural moan. His cock erupts in your hand, spurting thick ropes of cum that coat your fingers and cover his lower abdomen.

You continue stroking him through his orgasm until he gently grasps your wrist to stop you. "Sensitive now," he pants.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t apologize.” Chan lays there catching his breath, his chest heaving. He props himself up on his elbows to look at you. "Damn... you're a natural at that," he says with a satisfied grin once his breathing returns to normal. “Not bad for your first hand job.” He nods his head in approval.

You smile, feeling pleased that you were able to pleasure him. “Why thank you, sir,” you say with a playful bow.

Chan grabs some tissues from his bedside table. He cleans your hand off before cleaning himself and tucking his dick back into his pants. "I think that's enough for today's lesson," he says with a wink. “Want to get dinner?”

“Oh god yes! I’m so hungry.”

****

A few nights later, you join Changbin at his frat house for their monthly movie night in their backyard. As the movie starts, you settle into the large hammock with him, nestling your back against his firm chest as he drapes the fuzzy blanket over you both.

The movie plays in the background, but you find it hard to focus on anything but Changbin, his familiar scent – clean laundry and subtle cologne – enveloping you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, fingers trailing lightly up and down your arm. You smile to yourself, enjoying his affectionate touch. You feel protected and comfortable in his embrace. Like always.

His hand gradually makes its way to just above your diaphragm, fingers splaying as he caresses you through your shirt. You place your hand over his, interlacing your fingers together.

About halfway through the movie, you feel a spark of excitement run through you as his other hand settles on your lower stomach, his thumb just barely slipping under the hem of your shirt, grazing your skin. You place your free hand over his, guiding it lower, past the waistband of your leggings. Changbin hesitates, his breath hitching slightly.

"It's okay," you whisper, turning your head to meet his gaze. “I want you to.” You see the flicker of desire in his eyes as you guide his hand to where you need it most.

Reassured, his fingers brush over your clit, tentatively at first, gauging your reaction. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the contact. His fingers slide down your folds and enter you, gingerly gliding into your wetness. You slowly buck against his finger. He takes the hint, applying more pressure as he picks up the pace.

Turning your head again, you meet Changbin's intense gaze in the dim light. He leans in and presses his lips to yours in a slow, sensual kiss. You feel desire stirring within you as the kiss deepens. Changbin's tongue dances along yours as he pulls you tighter against him.

You have to stifle a moan into his mouth as he sinks deeper into you. Your tongues dance together as the pleasure builds. You release Changbin’s hand and reach behind you, slipping your hand into his sweatpants and wrapping your fingers around his rapidly hardening length. You stroke him slowly like Chan taught you. Changbin groans into your mouth at your touch.

Changbin’s fingers curl inside, hitting just the right spot, and he uses his other hand to stimulate your clit, rubbing in tight circles. You stroke him in time with the movements of his fingers between your legs. You break the kiss as you melt into his touch, leaning your head back against his shoulder as you bite your lip and close your eyes.

The hammock rocks gently as you pleasure each other. Quiet gasps and moans are lost in the sounds of the movie and chatter around you. No one notices as you bring each other closer and closer to the edge.

Your hips rock together subtly. The tension builds deep within until you shatter beautifully around his fingers. You grip him tighter as you cum, stroking faster. He buries his face in your neck to muffle his own moans of pleasure; his teeth sink into the soft flesh making you yelp. You’re learning that Changbin is a biter. His cock throbs and you feel him spill over your hand.

You stay tangled together, catching your breath. Changbin kisses you softly on your neck before withdrawing his hand. You clean each other up quietly.

You cuddle together in the hammock, your body still humming. Changbin wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your hair.

"That was amazing," he murmurs. He kisses the top of your head and asks, "What's changed recently? It seems like you've been more open to exploring sexually together."

You turn in the hammock, careful not to flip the two of you out of it. You tilt your head up to meet Changbin’s gaze. "I'm ready for more with you, Bin. My heart belongs to you. I want to show you how much you mean to me. And I’ve been feeling more confident and open with physical intimacy."

Changbin smiles and caresses your cheek. "I'm so happy to hear that.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips. "Look, I'm really glad you're finding your confidence, but I want you to know that I'm in no rush. I don't care if it takes another year or ten or twenty; I’d wait forever for you. Okay? I'll follow your lead."

"I know," you say, your voice catching in your throat. "And I... I really appreciate that." You lean in and kiss him deeply. As you pull back, you say, "You’ve been so sweet and perfect. It’s not lost on me what you’ve given up being in this relationship. That's why I want to reward your patience and understanding; I have something special planned for you for our anniversary."

Changbin looks deeply in your eyes. “I don’t need anything special babe, just you.”

****

As you wait for Chan to meet you in the student center, you receive a text message from Changbin.

Cuddle Binnie: Can’t get you out of my head today. Keep thinking about movie night. Hope your day is going well.

You: It is now. You always make my day better. 🥰 One hand job and that’s all you can think about, huh? 😉

Cuddle Binnie: More thinking about my fingers buried deep inside you and the sounds you were making. Would love to hear you moan like that again…

You: Soon.

Cuddle Binnie: Any way you can change your plans tonight?

You: Can’t babe. Tutoring session.

Cuddle Binnie: I’ve waited this long. Guess I can wait another couple days.

You: Why I adore you.

Cuddle Binnie: I adore you to.

You bring your phone to your chest and sigh deeply, thinking about how much you cherish that man. When you look up, you see Chan enter from the cafe. A bright smile emerges on his face when he sees you.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late.” He sits next to you, plopping his bag on the table.

“Hi. Sooooo? How’d you do?” you ask enthusiastically.

Chan grins, his signature dimples on full display. "Really well actually!” He zips open his backpack and pulls out a folder. He hands you the stapled pages from the center. “B minus! Up from an F! Thanks to you!"

"Channie, this is amazing!" you exclaim, smiling proudly as Chan beams at you, clearly delighted by his much improved exam score. “I knew you could do it.” You reach into your bag under the table and pull out a small, clear plastic takeout box containing a personal sized chocolate lava cake. You slide the dessert across the table to Chan.

“No fucking way!” Chan exclaims as he pops the container open to take a big whiff. “I can’t believe you remembered this is my favorite. From Mamma’s Bakery?”

You grin and nod. “Yes. I do listen to you, you know.” You hand him a plastic fork.

“Thanks.” Chan digs in eagerly, the warm chocolate fudge sauce oozing out as he takes his first bite. “Ugh, so good!”

“Of course! You’ve earned a reward for all the progress you’ve made,” you say warmly.

“I usually like my rewards in the bedroom,” Chan says with a smirk, his words laced with playful innuendo as he chews slowly.

“Of course you had to make it weird. Don’t start with me,” you say with a side-eye, slapping his face playfully. “You’ll need to talk with one of your little friends about those types of rewards.” You start reviewing the exam.

“What if I want to talk to you?” He teases, wrapping his full lips around the fork and pulling it out slowly.

The action earns a knowing look from you. With a sigh, you reply, “Not cute. You know those puppy dog eyes don’t work on me.” It’s mostly true, but he’s just so damn charming. You return your focus to the exam, flipping to the next page and scanning over his work.

“Why is that? It works on everyone else.” He eats another forkful while grinning at you mischievously.

You can’t help but to roll your eyes at his antics. “You’re just not as irresistible as you think you are, Bang Chan.” You ignore him and turn to the final page of the exam.

“Ouch!” He dramatically clutches at his chest in mock pain before eating another forkful of cake.

You place the exam in between the two of you. “All the points you missed were for really silly mistakes. I can tell you were rushing. What happened?”

"Yeah, you're right,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I got anxious during the test and spent too much fucking time on the first page. Before I knew it, there were only 15 minutes left. I fucking panicked, but I finished.”

"It's okay, we all make mistakes when we're stressed or rushed. The important thing is that you finished and you knew which concepts to apply where.” He nods in agreement. “And this just tells me that for your next practice exam, we need to focus more on time management.”

“Okay.” He nods his head in understanding.

“Okay. Go through each question where you lost points and fix your errors.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He slides you the container, half of the cake remaining. After retrieving a pencil from his bag and setting it aside, he gets to work.

You grab his fork and cut a small piece of the cake, placing it in your mouth. The flavors are decadent and satisfying. “Damn this is good,” you whisper.

“I know right? You can finish it,” he says with a smile.

You hesitate for a moment before taking another bite, savoring every moment of this treat. “No, it’s yours,” you insist, offering the fork back to him. He chuckles and shakes his head, gesturing for you to keep eating. You can’t resist taking another bite, the fudge melting on your tongue. Then, with a playful smirk, you cut a small piece and hold it up to his lips. “Here,” you coo softly. He looks up from his work, his eyes sparkling with amusement, and opens his mouth, allowing you to feed him. You go back and forth, alternating taking a bite for yourself with feeding him until the cake is gone.

By the end of the hour, you smile at Chan, happy at his progress. The student center is quiet now, most of the other students having already left campus for the evening.

"Good work. We should probably get going; it's getting late," you say. Chan nods and begins packing up his things.

The two of you walk in comfortable silence back towards your dorm. His arm brushes against yours occasionally as you stroll along the sidewalk. The cool night air is refreshing after being cooped up inside all day. You pull your jacket a little tighter as a breeze blows through the trees overhead.

Chan has his hands stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie, looking relaxed as always. "So…,” he says after a few minutes, “how are things going with you and Changbin lately?" he asks, glancing over at you with a little smile.

You feel your cheeks heat up slightly. "Really good, actually. We've been getting a lot closer and more comfortable with each other."

Chan raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Have you two... you know...," he trails off suggestively, his lips curving into his characteristic smirk as he holds up to two fingers and curls them in a come-hither motion.

You playfully smack his arm, trying to hide the small smile that tugs at your lips. “None of your business, sir!”

“It’s absolutely my business! How else am I supposed to gauge the success of my lessons, know if they’ve been making an impact? Hmmm?” Chan's teasing tone is laced with amusement as he leans in closer, shaking his shoulders, eager for details.

“Oh, they’ve been making an impact…” You can't help but let out a giggle as you recount your recent escapades at movie night, feeling bold and exhilarated in sharing these private moments with him.

Chan's eyes widen in surprise. “Damn, that's kinda hot. Look at you!” He nudges your shoulder with his, a pleased grin on his face. “Already getting freaky in public. Makes me proud.”

“I learned from the best.”

“I am the best, aren’t I.” He flashes you that devastating grin. You roll your eyes.

“How about you?” You playfully turn the question back to him, curious about his recent adventures.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. What escapades have you been up to lately?”

“Oh, this past weekend I had a date with a gymnast. She did some things that…. let’s just say I’ve never seen before.”

“Really? Like what?” Your eyebrows raise in interest.

“She was riding me in a reverse cowgirl, while doing a backbend thing, so she was also kissing me at the same time. It was wild.”

You can’t help but wince slightly at the thought of the contorted position. “Sounds painful. I hope she stretched first.” Chan throws his head back as he laughs loudly. “Was it impressive enough that you’d fuck her again?” you continue.

He ponders for a moment before responding. “Probably not. Repeats tend to get….”

“Clingy?” you finish for him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, clingy.” He can’t help but to smile back in response.

“You know, there probably are girls out there who would be happy to fuck you repeatedly without allowing emotional attachments.” You watch him as he thinks about it.

“Eh, I’d rather play it safe. You start to see someone more than once, they start to think you’re dating. Nah, fuck that! One and done!”

“Keep it simple.” You get it. He doesn’t want to run the risk of getting hurt again, not that he’d admit that’s the real reason.

“Exactly.” He nods.

A few minutes later, you and Chan arrive at your dorm room. After putting down your bags, Chan turns to you and says, “I’m thinking that tonight we can focus on oral. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah. I’m fine with that.”

“Alright. Might be a good idea for us both to shower first. I know I’m stinky.”

“You can go first then, stinky.” You walk to the closet, retrieving a towel and washcloth from the top shelf for him. “Here.” You toss them at him.

While you wait for Chan to finish his shower, you sit at your desk and delve into the novel you had stumbled upon at the used bookstore across from campus. Minutes tick by until finally, you hear the water stop. A few moments later, the door opens and Chan saunters out, looking like a Greek god in human form.

The towel wrapped snugly around his waist accentuates every defined muscle of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination. His wet blond hair is slicked back, making his face look even more chiseled and handsome. The steam from the shower still clings to his skin, giving him an ethereal glow in the dim light of the room. As you take in his striking appearance, you realize that tonight will be the first time you see him completely naked.

“I’ll let you take a picture so you don’t have to rely on memory,” he says with a grin when he catches you staring.

“Oh, shut up!” You add your bookmark to save your space, then head to the bathroom for your own quick shower. Ten minutes later, you rejoin Chan in the bedroom, wearing your black, fluffy robe.

Chan is reclining in your bed, his legs out long, crossed at the ankles, and your book in his hands.

“I didn’t realize you liked horror,” he states as he turns the page, not looking up.

“I’m a big horror fan: books, comics, movies.” You sit on the bed facing him.

He closes the book and places it back on the desk. “Very interesting.”

“Why is that?”

“You just constantly surprise me is all. Favorite book?”

“It, Stephen King. Read it when I was 12.”

“Oooooh, that’s a good one. I read it in high school. ‘We all float down here’,” he quotes in a deep voice, doing his best Pennywise impression. He sits up next to you.

“’And when you're down here with me...’,” you start, deciding to share your favorite line.

“’YOU’LL FLOAT TOO!’,” you and Chan yell simultaneously before breaking out in laughter.

“Oh man,” you say through chuckles. “So fucking good.”

“A fucking masterpiece,” Chan agrees. “And the remake….?” The two of you start talking animatedly about your other favorite horror books and movies, realizing that you have quite a few in common. Once the two of you have caught your breath after a thirty-minute discussion, Chan turns back to the business at hand. “You ready?”

You nod, eager to continue exploring and expanding your knowledge.

He takes your hands in his and directs you to kneel in front of him between his legs. “I’ll guide you through some different things to try. First and foremost is that you should always take the lead. If you want to give someone head, you unbutton and unzip and reveal. Don’t ever let some fucker push your head into their crotch; it’s just rude. Plus, women in charge, women taking charge, are fucking sexy.”

“Got it. Should I take this off,” you say, gesturing to his towel. He nods. You gently lift the corner he has tucked in at his waist and pull it open, allowing the towel to fall behind him on the bed. His length springs free, already hard and at attention.

“Go nice and slow at first; don't worry about taking too much in," he says softly. You lean forward, heart pounding, as he gently directs your mouth towards him. His fingers brush your hair back tenderly.

As you take him into your mouth, he inhales sharply, eyes fluttering closed. "Mmm, just like that. Use your tongue to explore... find the sensitive spots… but watch your teeth, so you’re not scraping."

Chan talks you through different motions – using your tongue, varying speed and pressure. You feel shy at first, but the excitement is stronger. Coupled with Chan’s gentle coaching, you gain confidence.

"The key is paying attention to your partner's reactions, listening to the sounds they make, and adjusting based on that.”

You follow his guidance, moving your tongue around his length and finding the spots that make him gasp or groan. You tighten your lips, you take him deeper, you flick his tip with your tongue. With each passing minute, you gain more confidence in your actions. Soon, he is moaning, praising how good your mouth feels.

Chan runs his fingers through your hair, stroking affectionately, as he guides you through this new experience. The sensation of his touch combined with the taste and feel of him in your mouth is exhilarating. You can feel yourself getting aroused as well.

As you continue to pleasure him, Chan's breaths become more ragged and his grip on your hair tightens slightly.

“I’m close to cumming,” he whispers. “You need to decide whether you want me to cum in your mouth or not. If it’s a no, just remove your mouth and finish by jacking me off.” You think about this for a second and ultimately decide to get the full experience.

You refocus on your task. Chan’s moans become louder until he finally reaches his climax with a loud groan. You feel his warm load spurt into your mouth, surprised by the saltiness. It takes you a couple of gulps to swallow everything down, but eventually you slide your mouth off of him and sit back on your heels.

Chan opens his eyes, then pulls you up to sit next to him on the bed, a satisfied smile on his face. “You did great,” he says warmly, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks,” you reply shyly.

“We’re not done yet though,” he says playfully. “Now it’s your turn.” He unties the belt of your robe, and pushes it off your shoulders before gently laying you down on the bed.

Chan gently parts your legs and settles between them. His strong hands caress your inner thighs as he plants soft kisses along your hip bone, working his way down. You feel a rush of anticipation as his mouth nears your most sensitive area.

"Just relax and enjoy this," he murmurs. You feel his hot breath against your pussy just before he makes contact.

The first touch of his tongue makes you gasp, the pleasure so intense you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. He starts slowly, with soft exploratory licks up and down your slit. He finds all the spots that make you squirm and moan. When his lips wrap around your clit, you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair. You gasp and writhe at all these incredible new sensations. His strong hands grip your hips, holding you in place.

"Oh god, Chan..." you pant, overcome by the building pressure.

"Does that feel good?" he asks in a low, sexy tone. The vibrations from his voice make you tremble.

You manage to moan a breathless "Yes."

"That's it, let me hear how good it feels," he encourages you. “The more sounds you make, the more you touch me, the better. It lets me know what’s working.”

He continues lapping at your clit, alternating between broad licks and tight circles. The pleasure is unbelievable; you've never felt anything like this before. You realize that the rumors about his 'magical tongue' are 1000% accurate. Your moans get louder as the sensation builds.

He slides two fingers inside you, crooking them in the same come-hither motion he made during your walk as his tongue continues working your clit. He quickly finds your g-spot, sending sharp shocks throughout you each time he swipes it. You start rocking your hips, trying to force his lips closer, force his fingers deeper. The dual sensations quickly bring you to the edge and then tip you over – your back arches off the bed as the orgasm crashes through you.

You lie there panting, your body still trembling from the intense climax. You feel breathless and euphoric.

Chan grins and wipes his mouth before kissing his way back up your body, making stops at your stomach, tits, and neck. Before he kisses your lips, there’s a pause as he looks directly into your eyes. For a brief second, his cocky facade seems to waver. There’s a flicker of something, a glimpse of vulnerability that makes your heart skip a beat. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone. The shift leaves you feeling curious about what he’s thinking.

Before you can say anything, his lips find yours in a rush of heat and desire. The taste of yourself and the cake from earlier mingle on his tongue. You lose yourself in the intensity of his kiss; it’s like having forbidden fruit, and you can’t get enough.

You allow yourself to continue indulging in Chan's kisses. His lips are soft yet demanding. One hand trails down your back, pulling you closer; the other cradles your face before moving to caress your side, your hip, your breast and everything in between. You tangle your fingers in his hair, drawing him to you. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate. All thoughts fade away except how good it feels to be wrapped up in Chan like this.

After what seems like an eternity, Chan pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. Something in his eyes seems different now. As he lies down next to you, you glance at the alarm clock and are amazed to see that the two of you have been making out for over an hour. You wonder how the fuck that happened.

The atmosphere in your dorm room feels cozy and intimate now. Chan trails his fingers up and down your arm absently as you both recover. You study his handsome face – the sharp jawline, the broad nose, the deep brown eyes beneath his dark brows, the full lips now swollen from pleasuring and kissing you. He really is unfairly good-looking.

As the afterglow fades though, you start to feel a bit awkward. This is supposed to be purely educational, no emotions, no entanglements. And yet... there's a definite connection between you two. An undeniable chemistry.

You see a similar conflict reflected in Chan's eyes before he clears his throat and sits up slowly. "We should probably call it a night,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” you agree softly. From your perspective, you can acknowledge the connection because you know you really enjoy spending time with him as a friend. You hope it’s the same for him and nothing more, and that this make out session was just the two of you getting carried away in the moment.

Chan rises from the bed and begins gathering his clothes. You take the opportunity to slip under the comforter to warm up your naked body now that his isn’t pressed against yours. As he pulls his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back and arms flex, and you take a moment to appreciate his athletic physique. He’s not as muscular as Changbin, but still nice to look at.

He turns to face you while pulling on his jeans. "So, Saturday is…”

“Your birthday right?” you finish for him.

He smiles. “Yeah. My 21st and my roommates are throwing a party at our house. It's gonna be lit – open bar, DJ, the works."

You sense there's more he wants to say, so you wait patiently for him to continue.

Chan runs a hand through his blonde waves in an effort to tame them. "Anyway, you should come.” He zips and buttons his jeans. He says it casually, but you can tell he’s nervous about asking.

"I don't know Chan... I'm not sure that's such a good idea," you reply carefully.

He nods, seeming to understand your unspoken concerns. "No pressure. I know it's complicated and all. But the invitation's open. I consider you a friend and it’d be cool to have you there.” He throws his backpack over his shoulder. “Feel free to bring Changbin too, if you want." You detect a hopeful note in his voice.

You consider the invitation. Your thoughts swirl around your mind as you weigh the pros and cons of accepting. You break the silence with a hesitant response. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

A smile spreads across his face, revealing the dimples. "Great," he says, his excitement evident in his tone and expression. The corners of your mouth tug up into a small smile in return.

****

The bass from the rap song blaring through the speakers sends vibrations through your body as you enter Chan's packed house with Jess and Sam flanking you. The air is thick with the scent of beer and sweat, bodies pressed close in the dimly lit space. You weave through the crowd towards the backyard and the keg, your eyes scanning for people you know. Everyone is at this party; there are students from all the different schools and programs, as well as folks from the different social groups. You see several of Changbin’s frat brothers, who give you a nod as you walk by. Changbin decided not to come, choosing instead to continue studying for the MCAT. He was planning to take it in December.

As you're refilling your red Solo cup at the keg, a warm arm drapes across your shoulders. You turn to find Chan grinning down at you, his dimples deeper than usual, his cheeks slightly red, and his eyes sparkling.

"You made it!" he exclaims, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. The scent of tequila clings to him. "I'm so glad you're here."

His kiss reminds you of your last encounter. You force a casual smile. "Happy birthday, Chan. Looks like you're celebrating properly." You tap your cup against his.

He laughs, the sound rich and inviting. "Oh, we're just getting started.”

“Here,” you say, reaching into your tote bag and pulling out a small, rectangular package wrapped in black and silver paper. “I got you a little something,” you say, offering it to him.

He takes the gift with a grin, his eyes curious as he examines it. “Oh wow, you didn’t have to,” he says.

“Open it,” you urge him.

He places the blue solo cup between his teeth to free up his other hand, then gingerly slides his finger beneath the taped seam and peels the paper back to reveal two books – Desperation and The Regulators.

“Stephen King!” he exclaims, taking the cup from his mouth.

“Two of my favorites,” you explain. “I hope you haven’t read them before.”

“I don’t think so.” Excitement creeps into his voice.

“Okay good,” you reply with matching enthusiasm. “Two different stories, with the same characters who are actually different people existing in separate dimensions but fighting the same evil.”

“Woah, I must be drunk because I actually understood all of that,” he says with a laugh. “Sounds really fucking cool. Thank you.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and gives you a tight squeeze. “This is really sweet.”

You can’t help but smile at his reaction. “You’re welcome,” you say softly, enjoying the feeling of his embrace.

He releases you and looks over his shoulder. “Come on, I want you to meet my other roommates."

Chan guides you and your friends through the throng of people, his hand never leaving your lower back. You try to ignore the tingling sensation it leaves in its wake.

"You already know Min,” he says, ruffling Minho’s hair as we pass him and a couple other people lounging on the patio furniture. Minho shoves him away playfully in response. “Felix! Hyunjin!" Chan calls out when we reach the kitchen. Two handsome guys turn, raising their cups in greeting. "This is the tutor I was telling you about."

Felix, a freckled blonde with an infectious smile, gives you a knowing look. "Ah, so you're the one who's been occupying all of Chan's free time lately."

You feel your cheeks flush. "Just trying to keep him from flunking out," you joke weakly. Chan ignores Felix as he places your gift on the bookshelf.

Hyunjin, tall and striking, looking like he just came off of the runway at New York Fashion Week, smirks. "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. He actually passed up on a date with one of the hottest sorority girls I’ve ever seen last week to study. I almost took him to the doctor!"

Chan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Alright, alright. Enough embarrassing me on my birthday." He walks away from his friends towards the kitchen island, grabbing a chicken wing from a large foil tray. He turns back to you and leans against the counter. “No Changbin tonight?”

“He’s studying. MCATs. He said he might try to stop by later if he gets far enough.”

“Hmmm, cool,” he says with a lazy smile as finishes the wing and reaches for another one. “I forgot he wants to go to med school.”

You chat with Chan for a bit as the party rages on around you. Despite the noise and crowd, it feels like it's just the two of you in your own little world. He seems relaxed yet focused entirely on you, asking about how the rest of your week went and your plans for the weekend. The conversation flows effortlessly. More than once, you catch yourself laughing wholeheartedly at his quick wit, lame jokes, and poor attempts at flirting.

It’s not lost on you, though, that there are lots of eyes watching the two of you. Several women have passed by trying to claim Chan’s attention, but he’s brushed them off. And other friends have stopped by to give him their birthday wishes. He is always polite, giving them hugs and high fives and chatting for a bit, but always turns his attention immediately back to you.

After a while, you notice Chan's gaze drop briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again with a hint of longing. The air seems to crackle between you. Just then, Minho appears.

“It’s shot o’clock motherfucker,” he says, clapping his hands on Chan’s shoulders. “Time for number 8.” He starts to lead him away.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Chan says with a smile. He turns to you, his gaze intense. "Save me a dance later?"

You nod, unable to form words under the weight of his stare. As Chan is pulled away in the direction of the bar, your floormates descend upon you, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Spill," Jess demands, practically vibrating with excitement. "What's the deal with you and Chan?"

“What? There's no deal.” You use a toothpick to retrieve a meatball, popping it in your mouth.

“Oh, come on. We might as well have been invisible. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. There’s something going on between the two of you.”

You take a long sip of your beer, buying time. "I'm just tutoring him. Plus, did you forget about Bin?"

Sam raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Tutoring, huh? Yeah right! That was some serious eye fucking come from his direction."

You laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as nervous as you feel. "Seriously, guys. It's strictly academic. And he’s fucking drunk; he’s looking at everyone like that."

Jess leans in conspiratorially. "Well, word on the street is that Chan hasn't been making his usual rounds lately. People are starting to wonder if he's actually into someone."

Your stomach does a little flip. "I'm sure it's nothing," you say, more to convince yourself than them. "He's probably just buckling down on his studies. You know he's at risk of losing his scholarship if he fails this class."

As your friends continue to speculate, your eyes drift back to Chan. He catches your gaze and winks, raising his shot glass in a silent toast. You smile and nod back before turning back to your friends. Though, you can't help but wonder if there's more to his recent behavior than just academic dedication.

The pulsating beat of the music draws you back to the present moment. You’ve just refilled your fourth cup of beer. Jess grabs your arm, pulling you and Sam towards the makeshift dance floor in the living room. "Come on, let's dance!" she shouts over the music. You let her lead you into the mass of bodies swaying and bouncing to the beat.

You lose yourself in the music, laughing with your friends as you dance together. A new song comes on and you feel strong arms encircle your waist from behind. Sam and Jess both raise their eyebrows. You turn your head and see Chan, his blonde hair now a wild mess, grinning at you with that disarming smile. He pulls you back against him, his body pressed close to yours as you move in tandem.

"Told you I wanted to dance with you," he says, his breath ghosting the back of your neck. “I’m the birthday boy, so I get what I want.”

You can't help but chuckle. You turn to face him. "I'm impressed you're still standing. What number are you on now?"

"Fourteen," he announces proudly, holding up his fingers in a wobbly 'V' sign. "But who's counting?" You smirk and help him pull up his pinky and ring finger, so that he’s now displaying four instead of two fingers. He laughs at his mistake.

As the two of you dance, you marvel at how he manages to move with such grace despite his inebriated state. The scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol envelops you as your bodies sway to the rhythm.

"So, how's the night treating you?" you ask, trying to keep a conversational distance.

Chan's eyes sparkle mischievously. "Oh, you know, the usual. I've been propositioned by at least five different girls already."

You laugh. "Sounds like a successful birthday to me. Why aren't you taking them up on their offers?"

He leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. "Because the one I'm really interested in hasn't approached me yet."

"Oh? Well, maybe you should go talk to her. If you're not too drunk, that is."

Chan pulls back, his gaze intense. "Maybe I should."

As the song changes to something slower, you find yourselves moving closer. Your bodies align, fitting together like puzzle pieces. You can't help but notice how his muscular frame feels against yours, how his hands on your hips seem to burn through the fabric of your clothes.

Suddenly, Chan's lips are at your ear again. "Want to know a secret?" he whispers, his voice husky. "I'm waiting for you to proposition me. You’re fun, smart, and fucking sexy as hell."

You throw your head back as you laugh loudly, assuming he's joking. Hoping he’s joking. To your relief, Chan joins in the laughter, but something in his eyes makes you wonder if there was more truth to his words than you'd like to admit.

As you're processing this, your gaze drifts over Chan's shoulder, and your breath catches. There, standing in the doorway, is a familiar figure that makes your heart leap for an entirely different reason.

Changbin has arrived at the party.

Changbin’s eyes search the crowded room until they land on you, a cute smile breaking out on his face. As he makes his way through the crowd, you can't help but admire how he looks in his fitted jeans and dark, short-sleeved button-down shirt, clinging tightly to his muscles. He's holding a bottle of very expensive tequila.

Your radiant smile causes Chan to turn to see what you’re looking at. You disentangle yourself from Chan just as Changbin reaches you.

"Hey babe," he says, leaning in to give you a soft, sensuous kiss on the lips that makes you blush a bit and your knees buckle. His eyes flick over to Chan.

"Changbin!" Chan calls out way too loudly for how close the three of you are standing to each other. "You made it!"

Changbin grins. "Couldn't miss the big 2-1, could I? Happy birthday, man." He hands Chan the tall, slender, and elegant honey colored bottle.

Chan's eyes widen. "Damn, this is the good stuff. You shouldn't have. You didn’t need to get me anything."

"A little birdie told me it’s your favorite," Changbin says, his arm sliding around your waist.

Chan's gaze flickers to the point of contact before he grins broadly. "Well, let's put it to use! Shots with the birthday boy?"

Before you know it, you're knocking back shots 15 through 18 with Chan, Changbin, Jess, and Sam. The tequila burns a path down your throat, warming you from the inside out. You watch Chan and Changbin talking and laughing together. It makes you smile.

Chan gets pulled away again, leaving you alone with your boyfriend. "Dance with me?" Changbin murmurs in your ear, and you nod, allowing him to lead you back to the dance floor.

As you sway with Changbin, your arms around his neck, you can't help but notice Chan across the room. He's with a busty brunette now, her lips attached to his neck, but his eyes... his eyes are on you. The intensity of his gaze makes your skin prickle with heat.

"Everything okay?" Changbin asks, noticing your distraction.

You force yourself to look away from Chan. "Yeah, just... a bit dizzy from the beer and shots."

Changbin's hands tighten on your waist. "Want to get out of here?"

You nod, grateful for the excuse. As you're leaving, you catch one last glimpse of Chan being led away by the girl, disappearing up the stairs towards his bedroom. The image stays with you as you and Changbin make your way back to your dorm.

Once back in your room, Changbin's hands are on you immediately, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You melt into it, the taste of tequila still lingering as your tongues meet. His strong hands slide under your shirt, caressing the sensitive skin along your waist and up your back.

Your hands slip under his shirt, tracing the hard muscles of his back. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close as the kiss deepens. All thoughts of Chan and his intense gaze fade away as you lose yourself in Changbin.

Changbin walks you backwards toward the bed, his kisses trailing down your neck. Gently, he lays you down, his body hovering over yours. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I've missed you," he murmurs, his voice husky, nuzzling into your neck.

You inhale his familiar scent, letting it ground you. “It’s only been a couple days,” you whisper back.

"I know. Tell me what you want," he growls, his eyes burning into yours as his hand moves between your legs and slides up your thigh before palming your pussy. You whimper, arching into him.

You bring his mouth back to yours and kiss him deeply before pushing him away from you. When he rolls onto the bed, you climb on top of him.

“I want to make you cum,” you say seductively, although your words are a little slurred because you are slightly drunk. You sit up and reach for the waistband of Changbin’s jeans. You unbutton and unzip, then quickly slip your hand inside his boxers. You’re eager to practice your new fellatio skills on him.

Changbin moans as your hand wraps around his hard length, stroking him slowly at first. You’re amazed at how much thicker he is than Chan, although the lengths are about the same. He watches you with dark eyes, his fingers tangling in your hair as you lean down to take him into your mouth.

The alcohol has made you brave and uninhibited, and you let yourself get lost in the sensation of pleasuring him. Your tongue swirls around his tip before taking more of him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down.

Changbin's grip on your hair tightens as he lets out a low groan. "Fuck." He says your name as he grunts, thrusting his hips up to meet your mouth. You continue to suck and lick him, figuring out exactly where to focus to make him unravel.

Changbin's moans spur you on, and you work him harder, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can. Your spare hand cups his balls, gently massaging them as you deep throat him. His salty taste fills your mouth, and the more he moans your name, the more turned on you get.

"Oh... fuck, baby... that's it," Changbin pants, his hips bucking to meet your every motion. His hand in your hair tightens around the strands while the other grips the sheets beneath him, his knuckles whitening with the effort of restraining himself. His breathing is ragged and uneven as he thrust his hips upwards, and you know he is close.

Soon enough, he reaches his climax with a strangled sound emerging from his throat, spilling his hot seed into your mouth as you swallow every drop. He pulls you back up to meet his lips in a passionate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.

Breathless and satisfied, Changbin rolls over onto his side and pulls you close against him. "You are fucking amazing," he whispers in your ear.

A warm feeling spreads through you at his words complimenting you. And despite the alcohol still clouding your mind, it feels good to be desired in this way by someone who you have such strong feelings for.

As Changbin holds you in his arms, sleep soon takes over.

You wake a few hours later with a throbbing headache and an arm draped over your body protectively holding you tight. You smile softly, remembering the events of the previous night. When you realize it’s still dark out, you turn your body to rest your head on Changbin’s buff chest and fall back asleep.

When you wake again, you feel lips kissing down your torso. “Mmmm. Morning.”

“Morning, babe,” he whispers in between kisses. This is new, Changbin being proactive physically. But your adventurousness over the past few weeks has emboldened him. And you like it.

“Can I use my mouth on you to make you cum now?”

“Yes. Please.”

Changbin smirks and continues on his southern journey. He tugs your shorts and underwear down, throwing them onto the floor, then settles between your legs. When his tongue finds your sensitive bud, you moan loudly.

Changbin's tongue expertly flicks against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands grip your thighs as he continues to lick and suck you, his movements becoming faster and more intense.

You squirm under his touch, craving more. "Changbin,” you pant. He deposits kisses down your folds, and when he reaches your hole, he slides his tongue in and swirls it, causing you to jump from the unexpected intrusion. His grip tightens around your thighs, his fingers squeezing into the flesh, as he presses his nose against your clit then starts to fuck you with his tongue. It feels glorious. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on by taking it slow with Changbin.

The walls of your pussy start to clench around his tongue, causing him to withdraw it, replacing it with fingers eager to thrust in and out of you. Simultaneously, he returns his mouth to your clit. He sucks it between his lips and alternates between flicking and nibbling until you can no longer control the motions or sounds coming from your body. Then your body suddenly stills; seconds later an explosion rocks through you, starting from your clit and spreading through the rest of your body. Changbin continues to suck your clit throughout the orgasm, causing you to see stars each time he pulls on it. Eventually, you have to push his head away from you.

“Bin, please stop,” you whine in a whisper. He laughs, depositing one final kiss on the sensitive area before returning to lie next to you.

You turn on your side to face him, the two of you staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. The heat from his body seeps into yours. “I’m excited for more mornings like this,” he whispers, bringing his palm to your face.

“Oh yeah?” You use your thumb to wipe your wetness from his chin.

“Yeah.” A smile spreads across his face. “The prospect of waking you up every morning with an orgasm is exciting.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” You lean in and capture his lips in yours. The taste of yourself on him is intoxicating, and you can’t resist deepening the kiss, losing yourself in the moment.

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thebunnednun · 12 days ago

Text

Toast 7.

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Katsuki Bakugou x Ex!Pro hero!Reader x Best friend!Pro Hero!Hitoshi Shinsou

Chapter 7: Jealous?

Asuna makes a full recovery, You and Katsuki almost bridge a gap, Aizawa loves you like a daughter, And Hitoshi proposes by accident! :D In front of Katsuki....

Songs:

Rose of my Heart, by Johnny Cash Daddy lessons, Beyonce We don't talk anymore Charlie Puth Take Care, Rihanna

The ambulance jostled gently along the road, your mind raced with a whirlwind of confusion and concern.

Asuna lay on the gurney, her breathing shallow but steady under the care of the EMTs, who had just secured an oxygen mask over her face. Eri sat nearby, her still hand tightly gripping Asuna’s, her wide, worried eyes darting between you and the paramedics.

You reached out, your fingers brushing through Asuna's scalp in a soothing motion. The strands felt cool under your touch, a stark contrast to the heat of your own anxiety. Asuna's jacket was slightly disheveled, and without thinking, you gently opened it to adjust it. That’s when a strange detail caught your attention—

This wasn’t the clothing you had sent her to school in.

Your eyes flicked to Eri, who was now wearing the coat you distinctly remembered sending Asuna off with this morning.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest but you didn’t understand. Why would they switch jackets? The thought gnawed at the edges of your mind, but you pushed it aside, not wanting to overwhelm Asuna or yourself with unnecessary questions just yet. Still, the 20-year-old’s face, framed by loose white strands, showed a hint of guilt, a subtle but telling expression that only deepened the knot in your stomach.

As you adjusted the unfamiliar coat on Asuna, your fingers brushed against something in the pocket. A small, rigid shape pressed against the fabric, catching your attention. Without much thought, you slipped your hand inside and pulled out the object—a small pack of sugar almonds, the kind that was likely warm at some point but had since cooled.

You stared at the package in confusion, the crinkling plastic loud in the quiet of the ambulance. A hundred questions bloomed in your mind. Who bought these? Did Asuna get them herself? Did Rumi? None of it made sense, and the perplexing nature of such a mundane item sent your thoughts spiraling further.

Your mind, already frayed from the tension, circled back to another oddity—the tracker bracelet.

It had been in your jacket pocket earlier, a place it had no reason to be. Had you accidentally left it there? Had it somehow ended up in the wash, tossed in with the laundry? The very idea seemed absurd, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

Eri’s soft voice pulled you back to the present, her calm responses to the EMTs' questions contrasting the chaotic storm in your head. She spoke with a clarity that surprised you, recounting the events leading up to the asthma attack, filling in the gaps that you couldn't.

As if she had been there all along.

The ambulance continued its steady journey, and you sat back, clutching the small pack of almonds, the weight of it far heavier than it should have been. You felt like you were on the brink of understanding something crucial, something just out of reach, but for now, you had to focus on Asuna.

Your questions could wait—at least until she was safe.

The rhythmic hum of the ambulance was the only consistent sound as you sat, tense and vigilant, by Asuna's side. Elle sat nearby, tapping away on her phone, her usually sharp and composed demeanor softened by the worry etched on her face. She squinted at the screen, reading through a message before her lips curved into a small, relieved smile.

"Mirko is taking over the rest of your shift, according to Mina and Headquarters," Elle said, turning the screen toward you. The message, wrapped in Mina's signature pink bubbles, was a short reassurance that things were handled on the work front. The sight of it brought a small, weary smile to your lips, though your head throbbed with a tension that felt like an exercise band stretched far too tight around your temples.

Sighing, you rubbed your temples, the faint pulse of your headache stubbornly lingering. "I’ll have to get her an Easter basket at this point," you muttered, the weak pun drawing a light nudge from Elle. She smiled, her gentle encouragement a quiet comfort amidst the stress.

But your attention quickly shifted back to Asuna. The EMTs had already gone through her medical history, and you had shown them your driver’s license alongside Asuna’s student ID to establish your relationship. You glanced at Eri, who sat with her hands clasped tightly, her gaze distant and clouded. Calling her name softly a few times, you waited until she looked up at you, her expression tinged with guilt.

"Hey, it’s okay. These things happen, they’re unpredictable. You can’t beat yourself up about it," you said gently, reaching out to loosen her grip on the gurney. Eri nodded, but the sadness in her smile lingered, a clear sign that something still weighed heavily on her mind.

"You wanna talk, butterbean?" you offered, the nickname bringing a small scoff from her, a reminder of her childhood and the soft, squishy cheeks that had earned her the endearing moniker from you.

"Um, yeah, but later, please?" she replied, her voice small. You nodded, understanding that whatever was bothering her, she needed time to process it.

Asuna stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open as she looked up at you with a dazed expression. You brushed a strand of hair from her face, the tender gesture drawing a slow blink from her.

"Where is he?" she asked, her voice distant and groggy.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through a recent message from Hitoshi. He mentioned Aizawa’s directive for him to get some rest and that you have a " special guest " coming to visit you, before promising to swing by before his patrol. He’d also sent a screenshot of a receipt filled with food items you and Asuna enjoyed during your ‘friendship’ dates.

"Toshi's gonna be back later, baby. Don’t worry," you reassured her, sending a playful combination of a middle finger and heart emoji back to Hitoshi, who replied with a laughing face. As you pocketed your phone, Asuna tugged at your arm, her brow furrowing in frustration. "What’s up, boo?" you asked, nudging her softly, hoping to ease her discomfort.

"Where is he ?" she repeated, her voice more strained this time.

You, Elle, Eri, and the EMT exchanged nervous glances, a collective unease settling over the group. "I told you, honey, Hitoshi is going to meet us later," you said gently, trying to soothe her.

But Asuna shook her head, groaning in pain as she tried to sit up. She whispered something, her eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear. Alarmed, you cupped her cheek, urging her to stay still. "

No... not him," she said, her voice edged with desperation.

A knot of panic tightened in your chest and throat. The ambiguity of her words, paired with the evident distress in her eyes, only heightened your anxiety.

"Who, baby?" you pressed, your voice soft yet insistent.

"Katsuki."

Your eyes widened, a shock mirrored on Elle's and Eri's faces.

The air in the ambulance seemed to grow heavier, the revelation hanging over you like a storm cloud. The implications of her words churned in your mind, each possibility more troubling than the last.

"I... I don't know, dear. Why do you ask?" you probe carefully, your voice laced with concern as you search Asuna's face for any hint of what she means. She doesn't answer, her lips pressing into a tight line as a sudden fit of coughs takes over. Hunching over, she struggles to catch her breath. The EMT quickly adjusts the oxygen flow, muttering updates into the radio, his tone brisk but calm.

You glance at Eri, who sits nearby with wide eyes, her expression a mix of worry and guilt. Her clenched fists and the way her gaze flickers away from yours tell you everything you need to know.

‘Bingo.’

She knows something, and the realization knots your stomach.

Elle, seated on your right side, looks just as shocked. Her phone is already out, fingers flying across the screen as she starts making arrangements for you to take an extended break over the holidays. You know she’s trying to be practical, but the weight of guilt still presses down on you—guilt over promises to your country, over the fear of letting citizens down.

But none of that can come before your loyalty to your daughter, the one who needs you most right now.

Asuna's breathing eventually evens out, her body relaxing slightly under the careful watch of the EMTs. You let out a quiet sigh of relief as she reaches into her pocket, pulling out her phone. The soft ping of a notification draws your attention to your own device. ' My Sugar Plum ' flashes across the screen, a nickname she’s had in your phone for years. You open the message, heart pounding as you read her text,

🩷🌟My Sugar Plum 🥰 🩷 : I want them both.

Your brows furrow in confusion, the meaning of her words eluding you at first. Why would she want Katsuki here? Was it because he was the one who called the ambulance? Your mind races, trying to piece together the logic behind her request. You understand why she’d want Hitoshi—he’s always been a steady presence in her life, reliable and comforting.

But Katsuki?

You think back to the late meeting he had and your conversation earlier. The fragments of the day begin to align in your mind, forming a rough timeline. There’s something more to this, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions.

Not yet.

Fuck it, maybe this was the universe’s doing.

The sound of a hard tap on the front of the ambulance snaps you out of your thoughts. You, Elle, and Eri immediately rise to your feet as the back doors swing open. The EMTs move with practiced precision, carefully lifting Asuna from the gurney and onto a waiting stretcher. They start transporting her into the pediatric emergency room, their steps brisk but measured.

You follow closely, your eyes never leaving Asuna as she’s wheeled through the hospital’s sterile, fluorescent-lit waiting room. The air is filled with the hum of medical equipment, the soft murmur of voices, and the faint beeping of monitors. Each sound heightens your anxiety, your protective instincts kicking into overdrive.

Elle walks beside you, her phone in hand as she coordinates with whoever is on the other end. Eri lingers close, her small hand clutching the hem of your jacket, seeking comfort in your presence. You glance down at her, offering a reassuring squeeze of your hand against hers.

Asuna's eyelids flutter, her gaze unfocused but soft as she looks toward you. The sight of her vulnerability twists something deep within you. You know there’s more to uncover, but for now, your priority is her well-being.

The nurses work swiftly, setting Asuna up with an oxygen tank as you watch, your heart clenched with worry. A red-haired nurse approaches with a clipboard and a stack of paperwork, which you hand off to Elle without a word. She takes it, her expression calm but determined, knowing you need to focus on Asuna right now. You offer a quiet thank you to the EMTs before they head out, their work here done. They nod politely, their faces reflecting the calm reassurance of those who have done this countless times before.

Asuna is connected to various machines, their rhythmic beeping filling the room. The sterile scent of antiseptics permeates the air as the doctor rushes in, immediately launching into a series of questions. You answer each one diligently, your mind a whirlwind of medical history and symptoms, all while glancing back at Asuna every few seconds. Eri stands close, her small frame rigid with the seriousness of the situation. She provides a witness statement, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes, answering most questions about what she saw and what Asuna was doing before she was found.

The doctor tries to get Asuna to write down what happened, but her coughing fits are too intense. She gasps for air, the sound tearing at your heartstrings. They quickly give up on questioning her further, instead focusing on preparing a breathing treatment. You sign off on the procedure with a shaky hand, knowing it’s the best thing for her right now.

Half an hour later, Asuna is finally asleep. The rise and fall of her chest is aided by the oxygen mask over her face, the harsh rasp of her earlier breaths softened into a gentle rhythm. The room has calmed significantly, the tension that gripped everyone easing into a lull.

You sit by her side, looking over the paperwork Elle had been working on. Methodically, you check off boxes, add details, and ensure everything is accurate. Your pen hovers over the line labeled, ‘ Second Parent.’ You stare at it, unable to move the pen, the words glaring back at you like an unresolved truth.

‘Katsuki.’

His name hovers in your mind, along with the memories of today and yesterday—the moments that have smacked you with something you’ve avoided acknowledging. It’s time to come clean. No matter how messy or uncomfortable it might be, it’s necessary.

Elle is asleep in the chair beside you, her posture composed even in slumber, while Eri has curled up at the foot of Asuna’s bed, her smaller form tucked into a blanket. You stand slowly, the chair creaking softly beneath you as you rise. With the paperwork in hand, you step outside the room, the door closing gently behind you.

In the quiet of the hallway, the distant hum of hospital activity serves as a backdrop to your thoughts. You fill out your name and then Aizawa’s, listing him as Asuna’s new emergency contact in place of Rita. Then Mina, and Elle. Hitoshi’s name follows. Then, you pause again at the ‘ Second Parent’ line, tapping your pen against it. The decision weighs heavily on you, each tap of the pen echoing the unresolved tension in your heart.

"Stuck?"

The deep, familiar voice sends a jolt through you. You turn quickly, your eyes meeting Aizawa’s as he stands a short distance away, his usual calm presence grounding you. He’s watching you with an unreadable expression, the soft lighting of the hallway casting shadows across his face.

For a moment, you both just stare, the unspoken understanding passing between you. Then, as if on cue, you break into a run. Your steps echo down the hallway as you rush toward him, and he moves too, meeting you halfway. You collapse into his arms, the paperwork forgotten as it slips from your grasp. His arms wrap around you tightly, grounding you, his scent familiar and comforting.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into his shoulder, the words barely audible, but you know he hears them. His hand rests on the back of your head, fingers threading through your braids in a soothing gesture.

“We’ll figure it out,” Aizawa murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear. His calm steadiness anchors you, the weight of your shared responsibility lessened by his presence.

You cling to him, letting the emotions of the day wash over you.

You lead Shouta to the seats outside the room door. His calm presence beside you on the bench grounding you in a way that makes the weight of the day a little easier to bear. His expression is a blend of quiet concern and patience, the kind of steadiness that has always been his hallmark.

Taking a seat next to him, you lean back against the cool metal of the bench, the hospital’s fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the hallway. “I put you down as Asuna’s new emergency contact,” you admit, your voice quieter now. His eyes flicker to yours, and he nods, his gaze steady and supportive.

When you ask if he's here for Eri, a soft, tired smile tugs at his lips. “I’m here for my granddaughter right now,” he says, the affection in his voice unmistakable. It’s a term of endearment that catches you off guard, and despite everything, you laugh—a weak, shaky sound—but your small smile is genuine.

Without thinking, you reach for his hand, and he lets you, his fingers gently curling around your smaller ones. The warmth of his touch is soothing, grounding you in a way that words never could. He holds your hand firmly but tenderly, a silent promise that he’s here for you, that he always has been.

“I have to tell you something,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. Your thumb clicks the pen in your hand anxiously until the top pops off, the small piece clattering to the floor. Aizawa’s hand stills yours, his grip firm but calming, and he meets your eyes with a quiet, reassuring nod.

“Go on,” he says softly, his tone low and steady, the familiar gruffness of his voice wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. “I’m listening.”

You take a deep breath, the air shuddering as it leaves your lungs. “Asuna asked about her dad this morning,” you confess, the words coming out in a rush. His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. “She did mention something about that,” he murmurs, leaning back slightly, his gaze thoughtful. “Said she had plans to do something ‘adventurous.’” He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a wry smile.

“Yeah, well,” you say, a humorless laugh escaping you. “Look where that adventure led.”

Your laugh is hollow, and you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. Aizawa squeezes your hand gently, a comforting pressure that grounds you. Aizawa taps your hand twice to get your attention as you look up.

“You can’t beat yourself up about this,” he says firmly, his voice low but insistent. His eyes, dark and serious, lock onto yours. He’s older now, hair shoulder, cut just above his shoulders, and his stubble has begun to salt and pepper. But he’s still the same man you met all those years ago. And you know you’re still one of his students.

“You didn’t intend for her to get hurt. There are layers to this, and whether we like it or not, we can’t change the past. You did what you thought was right at the time—to protect her. From Katsuki, from the media, from villains, from…everything. Even yourself.”

You glance down at your intertwined fingers, the weight of the moment pressing on you. “Shouta,” you begin hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always thought of you as a father figure.”

The confession feels heavier than you expected, and you find yourself avoiding his gaze, staring at the scuffed linoleum floor instead. “I know it might sound a little weird, coming from a former student,” you add quickly, nerves getting the better of you. “But it’s the truth. It’s not just the whole ‘Dadzawa’ thing people joke about. I think of you as a legit dad.”

For a moment, the hallway is silent except for the faint hum of hospital machinery. Then, a low chuckle rumbles from Aizawa’s chest. You snap your head up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What’s so funny?” you demand, a bit sharper than you intended. You stomp your foot, the action meant to emphasize your frustration, but instead, you’re met with the cool, bare sensation of the hospital floor against your skin.

Your eyes widen as you remember—your boot and sock had burned away when you kicked that tree earlier. Your bare foot, scuffed and a little worse for wear, has been exposed this whole time. Heat rises to your cheeks as you glance at Aizawa, who’s now trying to stifle another chuckle.

He tugs you gently to sit back down on the bench, his grip firm but kind. “I’m glad you finally said something,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “Rita wanted me to wait before saying anything.”

You blink, taken aback. “Wait for what?”

Aizawa’s dark eyes soften, a rare warmth in their depths. “She thought it’d be better if you said it first. But I’ve thought of you like a daughter for a long time now. I’d be honored to have someone like you call me dad.”

His words hit you square in the chest, and a lump forms in your throat. The weight of his acceptance, his quiet, unwavering support, is almost overwhelming.

“I love you,” you blurt out, voice thick with emotion. “In all your insomniac glory.”

Before he can respond, you throw your arms around him in a sudden, fierce hug, squeezing tightly. Aizawa lets out a surprised huff as you knock the air out of him, but after a brief pause, he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as firmly.

“So,” he says, voice a little strained but still carrying that familiar dry humor, “you wanna sign the adoption papers and make this all official?”

You pull back just enough to look him dead in the eye, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “I will ugly cry into your shoulder and use your hair as a tissue, old man.”

“There she is,” Aizawa mutters with a smirk, patting your back lightly. The moment feels lighter, easier, and you find yourself smiling genuinely for the first time all day.

He gently releases you from the hug, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “I’ll go down to the gift shop and see if they have some slippers,” he offers, glancing pointedly at your bare foot. But before he turns to leave, he adds, “You have another visitor.”

You furrow your brows, confused. “I thought you were my visitor?”

Aizawa shakes his head, his lips twitching into a sly smile. He brings two fingers to his lips and whistles sharply. The sound echoes down the hallway, and a familiar tuft of ash-blonde hair appears around the corner.

“Katsuki!” you exclaim, your heart lurching at the sight of him.

Welp. There he is.

Your heart gives a sharp lurch, and for a moment, you’re convinced this is it—you’re going to die.

Right here, right now, in the middle of the hospital.

It seems almost poetic, collapsing from sheer emotional overload after you just confessed your familial love to Aizawa, who, in turn, confirmed he loves you like a daughter.

Your thoughts spin out of control. If Aizawa legally becomes your dad, that technically makes you and Eri sisters. And Eri would be Asuna’s aunt! The absurdity of it makes your head spin even more. But then reality crashes back in like a wave, the task at hand demanding your full attention.

Katsuki Bakugou.

Your stomach feels like it’s playing an intense game of jump rope with your heart and other organs. You can’t help but stare as he strolls up the hospital corridor, each step measured and purposeful. His usual scowl is softened, his lips pressed in a line that seems more contemplative than annoyed.

In his hands, he carries a bouquet of flowers—an assortment of lilies and daisies, their bright colors a stark contrast to the sterile white walls of the hospital. In his other hand, a small teddy bear dangles by its paw, an unexpectedly tender gesture. He’s still in his winter uniform, coat open, the black long sleeves hugging his muscular frame. The fabric clings in all the right places, showcasing the definition of his arms and chest, the kind of strength that makes your mouth go dry.

Your eyes drift to the scar on his right cheek, a firm line that adds to his rugged appeal. It’s a mark of battle, of the past, and you find yourself wondering—not for the first time—if his hair is still as soft as it looks. His spiky locks defy gravity, each strand a perfect combination of wild and controlled chaos. It’s the kind of hair that makes your fingers itch to run through it, just to see if it’s as silky as you remember.

Then there are his eyes.

Those intense, vermilion eyes that have always seemed to bore into you with an almost predatory precision. But now, as he approaches, they don’t pierce you like they used to. Instead, they feel like a wave of water, washing over you, enveloping you in a surprising sense of calm. His gaze holds something softer, as if he’s carrying an unspoken promise.

He’s wearing his usual black and orange boots, the ones that seem so much quieter now. It used to unnerve you how he could stomp around with such ferocity one moment and move like a ninja the next, barely making a sound. His backpack is slung over one shoulder, and your brain throws up an exclamation point at the sight of it. You’d completely forgotten it back at the park. The realization that he’d thought to bring it sends a flutter through your chest, a small but meaningful gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Finally, he reaches you, his imposing frame just inches away. You can tell he’s trying not to look down at you from his height, his gaze flickering between your face and the bouquet in his hand. The tension between you is palpable, the air thick with words unspoken.

The hospital corridor hums softly in the background, the distant beeping of monitors and the murmur of nurses at the station grounding you in the moment. The scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, but all you can focus on is the man standing before you, his presence overwhelming in the best way.

“Hey,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

"Hey," Katsuki mumbles back, his gaze dropping to the floor. He shifts uncomfortably, eyes flicking around the sterile hallway before he finally presents the bouquet and the small teddy bear. "For the kid," he mutters, holding them out with a somewhat sheepish expression.

You take the flowers and teddy bear gently, offering a quiet, "Thank you." The little bear is an adorable shade of pink, adorned with a tiny black bow tie. A small smile plays on your lips. "She’ll totally love this. Very punk-est."

Katsuki's brow furrows in confusion. "I thought she was a girly girl?"

You shrug, cradling the teddy bear against your chest. "Asuna’s whatever she wants to be."

He hums in understanding, the corners of his mouth twitching as if contemplating a smile. You gesture for him to sit beside you, and he does, though as soon as he settles, he shifts uncomfortably and stands back up. His hand reaches behind him, retrieving a pen that had poked him in the rear.

Your face flushes. "Oh god, I’m so sorry," you blurt, scrambling to gather the paperwork scattered around you. As you fumble with the sheets, Katsuki pulls one from where it had stuck to his pants. His eyes flick over the form before he can stop himself, noting the empty line under 'Second Parent.' His face turns crimson as he quickly hands the paper back to you.

" Sorry ," he mumbles, averting his gaze.

You take it from him gently, tapping the edges of the papers together to straighten them. "It’s okay," you murmur, a defeated tone creeping into your voice. You tug at one of your braids, trying to relieve some of the tension coiled in your scalp.

"This is just... awkward."

Noticing your discomfort, Katsuki reaches over and gently pushes your hand away with his larger one. The warmth of his touch lingers, grounding you. You sigh, looking up at him with a weary expression.

"Why are you here?"

Katsuki hesitates for a moment, his eyes softening as he meets your gaze.

"She asked me not to leave," he admits, his voice quieter than usual. "I’ll go if you're uncomfortable, but make sure you take the bookbag this time." He shifts as if to stand, but you hold up your hand to stop him.

"You can sit if you want," you say, biting your lip and tapping your bare foot against the cold hospital floor before retracting it. "Everyone else is asleep, and I'd like someone to talk to."

Katsuki’s eyes drift down to your foot, and without a word, he slides his booted foot under yours, shielding it from the chill of the floor. The gesture is simple, yet it sends a wave of warmth through you. His touch, though indirect, feels protective.

"Thanks," you whisper, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit as he settles beside you once more. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, the quiet hum of the hospital around you, before you gather the courage to speak again.

Katsuki watched you quietly, his eyes tracing over the way the fitted black jacket hugged your frame. Without your usual coat, the jacket accentuated the gentle curves of your shoulders and waist. It was simple, yet it brought a new focus to your form that he hadn’t allowed himself to fully appreciate before.

His gaze drifted down, noticing the delicate gold anklet that still graced your ankle, a subtle shimmer catching the fluorescent lights of the hospital. He remembered that anklet, how it always seemed to glint mischievously when you moved, as if it carried a piece of your energy. His eyes caught on your wrists, adorned with bracelets that jingled softly when you adjusted yourself.

They were the same ones he’d seen countless times before, each band a reminder of your personality—bold yet intricate. His gaze continued upward, resting on the necklace around your neck. His tongue clicked slightly as he recognized it. It matched the one Asuna wore, a small pendant that connected you both in a way that made his chest tighten.

Your lips, soft and full, still did that familiar pout when you were deep in thought or upset, and Katsuki felt a pull in his gut. He wanted to see your soft cheeks in his hands again, pressing into them to make them puff out like he used to when you weren’t paying attention. He remembered how your eyes would narrow in mock annoyance, but your cheeks would warm, a subtle heat that made him want to do it again and again.

Your eyes, always bright, seemed to radiate light, not from your quirk but from something deeper within you. It was something that drew him in, made him feel like he could bask in their warmth.

Katsuki’s fingers twitched as he fought the urge to reach out and hug you, to tell you that it was all going to be okay and that he was here for you. But he knew better. He’d already pushed boundaries by coming here, and he didn’t want to overstep. His mind raced, trying to find a way to break the tension hanging in the air. Finally, he spoke, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

"Bag check wanted to check on ya, but Aizawa told him to fuck off back home." He scratched the back of his neck, a habit he couldn’t shake when he was nervous. "I left his flowers in the bag. They'll die soon if you don't get them in some water."

Your eyes flicked up to him, a mixture of surprise and gratitude in your gaze. You carefully unzipped the bookbag he’d brought, pulling out the slightly crumpled bouquet of flowers. Despite their state, they were still alive, the petals vibrant and soft to the touch. You cradled them gently, smoothing out the leaves as best as you could.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice tender as you glanced up at him.

Katsuki felt his throat tighten.

He wanted to say more, to tell you that he’d been worried, that seeing you like this made something twist painfully in his chest. But instead, he just nodded, watching as you carefully set the flowers aside, your fingers brushing over the petals as if they were something precious.

The silence stretched between you again, but this time it was filled with a newfound warmth. Katsuki’s eyes flicked back to yours, catching the faint shimmer of unshed tears. His heart ached to comfort you, but he held back, unsure if his touch would be welcome. Instead, he leaned in slightly, bringing the heavy scent of caramel with him, his voice low.

"They’ll be okay," he said, his tone laced with a gentleness that was reserved for only you.

"You’ll be okay."

You looked up at him, your lips curving into a small, grateful smile. It was enough to ease some of the tension in his chest, though the longing to do more remained.

For now, Katsuki would settle for this, to offer what comfort he could with his presence, hoping it was enough.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on your chest.

The sterile scent of the hospital lingered in the air, mingling with the faint hum of distant machinery and the soft murmur of nurses' voices from down the hall. The fluorescent lights cast a cold, pale glow over the corridor, highlighting the stark white walls and the polished linoleum floor that seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions.

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your jacket, twisting the fabric between your thumb and forefinger as you mustered the courage to speak.

"I need to tell you something important," you began, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. Katsuki’s gaze sharpened, his expression softening just a fraction as he leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on his thighs. "I need you to be understanding right now. You have every right to get upset or freak out, but... just hear me out, okay?"

Katsuki stills before he nods, his usual intensity tempered by a quiet curiosity.

"Alright."

You exhaled slowly, your hands now resting on your lap as you began to explain. "It’s about Asuna. She—" You paused, searching for the right words, "She’s important to me. I know that’s obvious, but there’s more to it."

Katsuki’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"I know," he said quietly. "We were talking in the park before I saw you on the bench."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and your head tilted slightly in confusion. "Wait, you two were talking? Before you saw me?" You sit up straighter now, less hunched.

"Yeah," he confirmed, scratching the back of his neck, a habit that betrayed his slight discomfort. "We were walking around. She started talking to me outside of the skatin’ rink. You know she was at the park?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Of course, I knew she was at the park," you replied, the corners of your mouth lifting in a small smile. "But I didn’t know she was talking to you."

Katsuki blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Was that... okay?" His voice was hesitant, as if unsure whether he had overstepped some unspoken boundary.

"For me to talk to her?"

Inside your mind, a storm of thoughts swirled. The truth hung on the tip of your tongue, the revelation that he was her father, and therefore had every right to speak with her. But instead, you nodded, your smile unwinding.

"Yeah, it’s okay. What did you two talk about?"

He leaned back slightly, his arms resting on the back of the chair, his gaze thoughtful. "She’s a real nosey brat," he said with a smirk, earning a sharp smack on his thigh from you. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet corridor.

"She’s not a brat," you retorted, your eyes narrowing in playful indignation. "She’s curious."

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, a rare glimpse of his lighter side. "Yeah, yeah. You got rose-colored glasses when it comes to her." You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. "So, what did you two talk about?"

"UA, Aizawa," he listed, his fingers drumming lightly on the chair’s armrest. "She asked a lot of questions. Like if I have a girlfriend."

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, and Katsuki’s gaze met yours.

"I told her I don’t," he added quickly, his voice steady but his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

"I didn’t ask," you murmured, feeling a warmth spread across your chest.

He shrugged, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She did. Then she asked if I have kids."

"And what did you say?"

"No," he replied, his expression serious now, as if weighing the significance of his answer. "I said no."

"Are you sure?"

"What the hell’s that supposed to mean?!"

"Calm your fire britches," you laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. "I was just teasing."

He huffed, the corner of his mouth quirking downward. "No, I don’t have kids."

There was a brief pause before he added, "I did ask if you and Shinsou are dating."

You blinked, surprised. "What did she say?"

"Ew, no ," he replied, a grin spreading across his face. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

"Of course, she did."

"I asked if she has siblings," he continued, his tone softening. "She told me no." You leaned forward slightly, your eyes searching his face.

"Did she say she wanted siblings?"

Katsuki shook his head, his expression thoughtful.

"No. I think she likes being an only child. She doesn’t wanna share you."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at his words, and you smiled, the affection for your daughter evident in your gaze.

"She really loves you," he added, his voice quieter now. "She’s protective of you. I’m guessin’ that’s why she wanted to meet me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you felt the depth of his understanding. He saw how much Asuna cared for you, how much she needed you. But something about that last comment made your blood stop.

"I didn’t tell 'suna that I was meeting you," you admitted, your voice barely there, sounding far away and distant.

Both of you paused, the weight of the moment settling between you as your eyes met. In the background, the hospital’s quiet hum continued, the distant sounds of monitors and soft footsteps the only reminder of where you were. Right now, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

The unspoken truths hang in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.

Mentioning the park does ring some alarms for you though and you think back to the ambulance ride. Eri’s strange behavior, Asuna and her having switched clothes, the bag in her pocket…..

"Did you buy her almonds?" you ask softly, breaking the silence.

Katsuki nods, his brows knitting together. "Yeah. Said she liked almonds better when I offered her peanuts, so I got some when she went to get Eri a soda—”

"You let her walk off!" you exclaim, sitting up straighter, your hands clenched into fists. "She’s sixteen," Katsuki retorts, rolling his eyes.

"We were unsupervised at sixteen and turned out great."

“Yeah apart from a few villain attacks.”

He shoots you a glare and you smile sweetly while flashing your sharp teeth at him. Katsuki opens his mouth to argue with you but instead just closes it. Thinking.

"Asuna likes spicy food more than sugar." You admit before flexing your foot on top of his boot. Katsuki hums, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Does he want the moment to end? No. But you have other things to do than babysit a grown man.

"I got off track. What were you gonna tell me?"

The dread in your stomach twists, a heavy, leaden weight pulling at your insides as you glance at Katsuki.

His eyes are sharp, waiting, patient in a way that’s rare for him, but you’re still on the edge, teetering with words you’ve kept buried for too long. You inhale, your breath shallow as you begin to speak.

"Yeah, I need to tell you something important."

The words tremble on your tongue, nearly slipping out, but before you can finish, the room’s door is yanked open with a force that startles you both.

Asuna stands in the doorway, rubbing her eyes, her movements slow and languid with the leftover haze of sleep. Her gaze drifts up, and the moment she spots Katsuki, her hand freezes mid-rub, her ruby eyes widening in surprise. She blinks rapidly, as if trying to confirm what she’s seeing.

Katsuki isn’t moving.

His body is unnervingly still, as if time has stopped for him entirely. His chest doesn’t rise or fall, and his usual intensity is replaced with a vulnerability you’ve rarely seen. His gaze is locked on Asuna, his lips slightly parted as though he’s forgotten how to breathe.

You look from Asuna to Katsuki and then back again, feeling like you’re standing on the precipice of something immense. The two people you have loved most in the world are here, together, and for a heartbeat, everything feels surreal.

And they don't even know the truth yet.

Asuna’s reaction, so much like Katsuki’s, pulls at your heartstrings. Her eyes, those burning red iris, are a mirror to his, and you can see the resemblance more clearly now than ever before. It’s overwhelming, seeing them together, and you’re struck by just how much she’s inadvertently inherited from him.

She looks better than she did earlier. Her cheeks, once pale and gaunt, now have a healthy flush. The oxygen mask is gone, and she’s breathing easily, the rise and fall of her chest steady and comforting. Her lips are a bit dry, but nothing that some gloss and Gatorade can’t fix. You make a mental note to take care of that later, but for now, you’re rooted in place, your emotions a disco in panic.

The three of you stand frozen, each lost in your own swirling thoughts.

Katsuki’s gaze locks onto Asuna, as if she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His mind races, a maelstrom of emotions, each one fighting for dominance. ‘How could you have ever felt insecure about anything if you could create someone so perfect?’ he wonders, the intense red of her eyes igniting something deep within him, filling the void in a way he hadn’t even thought of.

Maybe he’s biased. The girl is a mirror image of you. But more than that, and Katsuki knows it.

After all, you’re the only woman he’s ever loved.

It’s not just a love for your physical prowess, though he’s admired that too.

It’s deeper, more profound.

Katsuki loves you, or maybe he did love you. Or maybe he still loves you after all this time, a truth he’s buried beneath years and layers of anger and grief. He loves you for who you are, for the fierce kindness and compassion that has never wavered.

He sees it in how you tirelessly work as a hero and in the community, not for recognition but because you care. He knows you must be an incredible mother to have raised someone as remarkable as Asuna.

Katsuki loves you because once, when it was dark, he saw your soul, and it was so beautiful that he could never look at another. He never wanted another. He wants only you.

Selfish, right?

You, on the other hand, are overwhelmed with the urge to hold Asuna, to wrap her in your arms and never let go. You want to ensure she’s okay, that she feels safe and loved. But beneath that, a storm of worry brews. You glance at Katsuki, wondering if he’s even considered the possibility that she’s his daughter.

The thought of finally admitting it out loud makes your heart race. You’ve kept this secret for so long, out of fear and uncertainty. But seeing him now, the way he looks at her with something akin to awe, you realize you can’t keep it hidden much longer.

Katsuki isn’t stupid, not by a long shot.

He’s not putting the pieces together right now because he’s in shock.

But you know he will.

And you’ll have to pay the price when it happens. You could never hide from him—not as kids, not as adults. Even when he was at his most stubborn back at UA, you saw through him.

Because the truth was always in his eyes.

Whether he was flustered, drowning, or being an ass, Katsuki couldn’t lie to you like he could lie to the rest of the world, and he knew it. That was one of the reasons you left that night at the Hero Gala. You could see the love he once had for you was gone, and you weren’t going to stay and raise a boy who couldn’t see what he had right in front of him.

And despite everything, you were so happy that Asuna was born with his eyes.

You never admitted it—not to Mina, not to Aizawa, not to Hitoshi, not even to your own grandmother. But you loved it. You loved looking into those little eyes and seeing your baby girl, carrying a good piece of the man you once loved so deeply.

You never thought you’d see him again, never imagined this moment.

You had planned to raise Asuna on your own, to be strong and independent, and find her own path. Who would’ve thought that 16 years later, you’d be here, in the hospital where you gave birth to her, sitting next to her father who doesn’t know he’s her father, and next to your daughter, who just this morning asked you if her father even knows she exists.

If someone had told you this would happen, you would’ve laughed and called them crazy.

Who’s the crazy one now?

When you love somebody, you don’t get to pick their flaws.

You have to embrace the whole of them—the good and the bad. The love you feel for their light must be strong enough to withstand their darkness, because everyone has a shadow. Loving someone means accepting that their darker aspects might touch you too, and while those flaws don’t necessarily define who they are, they don’t excuse their actions either.

Love isn’t about perfection; it’s about understanding and navigating the imperfections together.

It’s about loving despite the bad, because good will overcome it.

The three of you sitting there, caught in the weight of unspoken truths, are far from innocent.

Each carries a past, a story marked by choices and consequences. Asuna, though, is the most innocent among you. She didn’t ask for this complex web of love, loss, and secrets.

Yet, here she is, sitting at the center of it all.

Why is it that children often bear the burdens of their parents' pasts?

Why do they pay the price for decisions they never made? It’s a cruel irony of life—that the most vulnerable, the ones with the least power, are often the ones who suffer the most from the fallout of choices they had no part in. Asuna’s existence is a testament to a love that once was, a love that is still tangled in unresolved emotions and lingering pain.

And now, she sits here, paying the price for the paths her parents walked long before she ever took her first breath.

It’s an age-old tragedy, this legacy of hurt passed down through generations, and as you sit in the quiet tension of the room, the weight of it presses down on all of you, demanding resolution, understanding, and, perhaps, a chance at redemption.

But that only happens in the stories you read.

Asuna is the first to break the silence. Her voice is soft, hesitant.

"You guys are talking?" she asks, her eyes darting between you and Katsuki.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, she looks at Katsuki properly, and her breath catches in her throat. Her gaze lingers on him, her expression a mix of confusion and something akin to awe. She’s trying to process what she’s seeing, and it’s clear she’s struggling to find the words.

You both hate watching her struggle to find the words.

The tension in the hall is palpable, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Asuna’s heart rate monitor beeps faster, the rhythmic sound filling the silence as her anxiety rises. Her hands and feet grow hot, and she shifts uncomfortably, trying to keep her cool. The cut on her palm itches, a sharp reminder of the ordeal she’s been through, that she needs to calm down, but she ignores it, focusing instead on the two of you.

Finally, you break the tension, your voice gentle as you try to ease the situation.

"You’ve got a visitor," you say, holding up the small teddy bear Katsuki had brought. You wave it lightly, offering a reassuring smile.

Asuna’s eyes flick to the bear, and a soft laugh escapes her lips, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She steps into the hallway, her movements cautious, but there’s a glimmer of relief in her eyes.

She reaches out and takes the bear from you, cradling it in her hands as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. Katsuki shyly presents her the flowers, and Asuna gently takes them into her arms too, poking at them while adverting her gaze.

You scoot to the side, making room for her on the bench. She hesitates for a moment before sitting down, on your lap as if she's a toddler, but you let her and her legs fit snugly between you and Katsuki.

The bench is small, and you find yourself nearly sitting in Katsuki’s lap, the proximity making your heart race. Asuna nestles against your side, her head resting on your shoulder, the warmth of her presence comforting you.

None of you speak.

The silence is comforting, a shared understanding passing between you. Katsuki’s arm rests on the back of the bench, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. You can feel his gaze on Asuna, soft and contemplative.

Asuna breaks the silence again, her voice quiet. "Is it true you brought this for me?" she asks, holding up the bear and flowers while looking at Katsuki.

He nods, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile. "Yeah. Thought you might like 'em."

She hugs the goods tighter, a smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

Katsuki’s eyes soften, and for a moment, you see the vulnerability in him, the walls he’s kept up for so long crumbling just a little.

"You’re welcome, Asuna."

And the three of you sit there together in peace for a long while.

30 minutes go by before the cozy moment is abruptly interrupted by a whirlwind of events.

First, Aizawa returns with a small shopping bag dangling from his wrist. His usual composed demeanor softens as he takes in the scene before him, his eyes briefly flicking to Asuna’s arm where the bear rests.

Second, a delivery guy appears with a package, which you hastily chalk up to being the food Hitoshi ordered for you.

And third, the doctor and nurses stroll up, carrying Asuna's discharge paperwork, a prescription, a new inhaler, and a sheet of stickers, bringing a sudden bustle of activity outside the room.

Asuna lights up, eagerly choosing a Paw Patrol sticker and a skull. With a giggle, she places one on each cheek before asking for two more stickers for Eri. Her bright smile is contagious, filling the air with a brief but welcome cheerfulness amidst the flurry.

The energy shifts as the reality of going home starts to settle in.

You thank the delivery guy with a soft smile, accepting the package before turning your attention to the discharge forms. The pen feels heavy in your hand as you scrawl your signature, but the sight of Asuna gleefully chatting up the staff makes you feel better. You hand a nurse the forms you were struggling with earlier and hope that you can continue both conversations soon.

While signing for the package, you notice Aizawa and Katsuki nearly push each other out of the way as they kneel to the floor.

You almost yell at them to knock it off until you see they have the same determined look. It takes you a moment to realize they’re vying to get your slippers on your feet. The sight of them nearly shoulder-checking each other to get to you first makes you feel flustered but warm, a deep appreciation replaces that, welling up in your chest.

As Katsuki kneels, his fingers gently brushing your ankle as he slips the left slipper on, looking over your funny patterned socks, and you’re struck with a wave of nostalgia. It’s like prom night all over again, when he helped you put on your heels and later carried them and you after you’d had enough of their discomfort. His touch is as gentle now as it was then, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with a quiet intensity.

His hands were pleasantly warm too.

Aizawa, meanwhile, stands to the side, his expression fond as he watches the interaction. His presence brings back another memory—those days when your pregnancy made even the simplest tasks difficult. You recall the time you’d broken down over not being able to put on your shoes, tears streaming down your face as you lamented not being able to go to the new seafood place you’d been craving.

Shouta had hugged you, his embrace solid and comforting, before kneeling down to put your tennis shoes on for you. He’d taken you out himself, never complaining, paying for the meal without a second thought.

As you’re lost in these memories, the delivery guy shifts, bringing you back to the present.

You wave him off with a smile, closing the mental door behind him as curiosity pulls at you. Asuna and Aizawa go back into the room to wake up Eri and Elle, leaving you and Katsuki in a rare moment of quiet.

Katsuki stands nearby, holding your things, his silent insistence on helping lingering between you like an unspoken sentiment. His reluctance to leave is palpable, as though he’s holding onto these fleeting moments a little longer.

Because he doesn’t want to leave you again.

He doesn’t want to wake up in that empty apartment and be trapped inside his own mind anymore.

But you don’t know that.

You turn your attention to the package, curiosity piqued. The package feels heavier than expected, and as you tear it open, you’re surprised to find not a food order, but a box within a box. Your brows knit in confusion as you open each box. As you peel back layers of protective wrapping, the anticipation builds until you reach a tiny box nestled at the center. You pick it up, expecting perhaps a pair of earrings Hitoshi might have ordered.

Your heart pounds as you glance over your shoulder. There’s no one else here but Katsuki. He’s standing only two feet away but his eyes are on you. There’s a subtle tension in his stance, as though he’s anticipating something.

The contents get smaller and more mysterious until you’re holding a tiny, ornate box.

Your fingers are fluid as you open the final box, your phone already ringing as you call Hitoshi on FaceTime, needing him to share this funny mix up with you. As the lid lifts, your breath catches in your throat.

This wasn’t a pair of earrings.

Nestled inside is a ring—stunning, breathtaking in every way.

Not a small, dainty piece of jewelry, but a bold statement, perfectly reflecting your style.

Set with your favorite cut and color, your birthstone framed by your favorite gems. The centerpiece gleams under the hospital’s fluorescent lights, and the engraving inside the band takes your breath away,

‘I will love you forever.’

Your jaw drops, the world around you narrowing to just this ring in your hand.

The emotions you’ve been holding back all surge to the surface, overwhelming in their intensity.

Katsuki, seeing your reaction, lets off several small, startled explosions from his hands, the sound sharp in the quiet. His eyes are wide, filled with something akin to shock and hope as he takes a tentative step toward you. Tears are already forming in your eyes, a reflexive response to the overwhelming emotions swirling in your chest.

The hallway seems to hold its breath alongside you, as if time has paused.

Before either of you can say anything, the sound of fast, frantic footsteps echoes behind you.

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