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kkodzvken · 4 years ago

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take the dive - sugawara koushi x milf!reader

tags/warnings: smut, 18+ ONLY! slight dubcon, infidelity, post timeskip (suga teaches reader’s kids). overstimulation and slight dumbification, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public (in an empty classroom)

a/n: this is my piece for @ultimate-astridwriting’s milf fuckers collab, which you can find here!! thank you for hosting this astrid, and thank u to everyone in the server for ur love and support as i worked on this <33. title cred: take the dive by jonghyun

wc: 3.9k

Amidst a faculty full of stuffy old dinosaurs and suits, Sugawara Koushi is a breath of fresh air. He’s a welcome distraction, a pretty face to focus on at dull PTA meetings and assemblies. And you knew that you weren’t the only one making heart eyes at him. Everywhere that he went, heads turned, and moms whispered. At the bus stop, on the sidelines of sports matches, in the waiting rooms outside dance classes.

It was just that, though -- just whispers. Little knowing glances and nudged shoulders, dreamy sighs and brief sinful indulgences. Nothing more than a brief escape from the monotony of your everyday lives. You’d lose yourselves in the fantasy for a few seconds, and then pull your heads down from the clouds and plant your feet on solid ground. You enjoyed your gossip with the other moms, and then you returned home, to your husband and children. To your family.

You love them, of course. Your children are your world, and your husband is a good man. He’s a good man, and that’s what made it so hard. He treats you well, keeps his words soft and never once put his hands on you.

He may be good, but, God, was he boring. You can’t remember the last time that he’d even kissed you, let alone fucked you. He came home later and later each night, too tired from work to do anything but silently scarf down his dinner and plant himself on the couch in front of the television. He dragged himself into bed hours after you did. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but he woke you up every single night with his stomping and shuffling. When you snuggled closer to him, he pushed you off. My back hurts too bad, he’d say, voice tinged with regret. Remind me to book another appointment with the chiropractor.

It was always some excuse or another.

So, really, you couldn’t blame yourself for your wandering eye. You weren’t going to act on it, of course -- you weren’t a cheater -- but the young teacher was something to occupy yourself with. A pretty face to fill your thoughts as you wrangled your horde of screaming kids from swim lessons to dance practice to art classes. A pretty, pretty body to imagine as you fucked yourself with your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was him, lithe body leaning over yours. No complaints of aching backs and sore muscles, none of the complications that came with age.

You’d leave your husband catatonic on the couch, put the kids to sleep, and then go dream of their hot teacher. You should’ve been more ashamed, but there was a part of you that loved the thrill of it. You flushed whenever you saw Mr. Sugawara the next morning, memories of your illicit thoughts filling your mind, but it also made your body feel electric.

Of course there was a part of you that longed to throw caution to the wind and jump the young man, but your conscience was much stronger than your weak, lustful thoughts. You were happy with the way things were now. As dull as your husband was, and as insufferable as the children could sometimes be, you were happy.

This was all you had ever wanted. A house in the suburbs, a husband with a well-paying job, three kids and a dog. You’re living the fucking dream. You’re happy, you tell yourself.

So why the fuck are you so unsatisfied?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With a deep breath, you stare down the heavy glass doors at the school’s entrance. You want nothing more than to find the idiot architect who designed this building, and strangle him for installing pull doors. Your arms are already sore from carrying the giant tray of brownies from your car to the front of the school, and you worry that if you put the treats down to open the door, you wouldn’t be able to lift them up again. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you have two minutes left to reach the gym where the bake sale is being held. The PTA president is notorious for hating latecomers, and you weren’t in the mood to get your head bit off.

You’re debating doing some gymnastics and using your foot to grab the handle, when you notice footsteps approaching from behind you. You open your mouth to ask for help, but they beat you to it. “Let me get the door,” says their syrupy, melodic voice.

Their familiar voice.

Your body practically freezes as a strong arm reaches over your shoulder. Long fingers – fingers that you’ve fantasized about too many times to count – twist the handle and push it open easily. You don’t know how you didn’t notice him approaching sooner, but now that he’s here, your senses are in overdrive. The sweet scent of his cologne, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his body – it’s all too much, and it makes your knees feel weak.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you say, voice coming out much breathier than you intended. This must be some kind of Pavlovian response from all your fantasizing, because there is no reason for your stomach to be twisting right now. “Thank you.”

He grins sheepishly and steps away, and you hate the way that your body screams at you to lean into him. “It’s no problem. Is that for the bake sale? Here, let me carry it for you.”

You try to protest, but there’s really no point. His long fingers are already pushing yours to the sides, and you swear you’ve been electrified as he pulls the tray out of your hands. It’s a shame, really, that he’s wearing a button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, at least, but you would’ve loved to see his biceps flex as he carried that tray…

What am I doing? You dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of your thoughts, but it’s hard to stay lucid when he’s so beautiful. He carries the brownies with ease, using just one arm to support their weight as the other holds the door open for you. It should make you upset, that you’re so weak in comparison to him, but the thought just makes you feel even more breathless. He’s so strong, so young, and so unlike your husband.

“Thank you,” you say again as he steps into the building behind you. You reach for the tray, but he waves you off.

“Nonsense. I’ll walk you to the gym.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Anything for my favorite mom.”

His…favorite? His words leave you too stupefied to protest any further, and he takes your silence as compliance. Your body automatically follows in his footsteps as he paces down the hallways.

He looks over at you and smiles comfortingly. It lights up his entire face, but does little to ease your turbulent thoughts.

Your mind is still fixated on his words as you step onto the squeaky wood flooring of the gymnasium. Sugawara calmly walks over to the PTA president, who looks like she’s about to rip her hair out. She’s surrounded by a gaggle of other moms, all jabbering away with concern painted across their faces.

“Is something wrong, ladies?” he asks. His voice snaps them all out of their conversation, and their eyes widen as they take him in.

“Yes,” says the PTA president scornfully. “We were supposed to have the brownies here already! The sale starts in ten minutes, and if this keeps up, I won’t have enough time to inventory everything and make it presentable, and –”

“I have the brownies,” you cut in, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

She blanches, and looks from you to the tray in Sugawara’s arms. An oh is all she can muster before grabbing the brownies and rushing off.

“Is everything okay?” one of the other moms asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness. “Oh, and you look so tired, dear. If you couldn’t manage your part, you should’ve just said so!”

“It would’ve been no trouble,” another woman says. “I’d have had no trouble whipping up a tray for you! Everyone always does love my baking.”

You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at them. It’s always like this – the other moms seem so in tune with their lives of domestic bliss, playing games of politics and constantly competing to be the best. Try as you might, you just can’t satisfy yourself with a life like theirs.

The material of Sugawara’s shirt brushes against you, and you start. He doesn’t pull away as you flinch, instead gently resting his hand on the small of your back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal her away? Mrs. (L/N), I have your son’s science fair project sitting in my classroom. He keeps forgetting to bring it home. Would you like to go collect it now?”

You nod, relieved at the excuse to escape these women and their sickening artificial sweetness. Sugawara gently guides you with the hand on your back. You can’t help but internally smirk at the thinly-veiled jealousy on the faces of the other mothers.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sugawara says, once you’re safely out of earshot. “All these PTA moms are so fake. But you’re not like that, are you?”

You nod, still a bit convinced that this is all a dream. He doesn’t remove his hand from your back as you walk down the hallways, and only pulls away when you reach the door to his classroom. He fishes through his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, before insert one into the knob and pushing the door open. He gestures for you to enter first, and so you do, blinking at the harsh sudden brightness of the automatic lights.

You awkwardly glance around the room. You’ve been here plenty of times before, but that was all during the daytime, when it was packed full of energetic children. It feels…strange, to be alone in a classroom as an adult. Or, well, alone, except for the stupidly attractive teacher that you’ve been lusting over.

“Where’s the project?” you ask, trying to diffuse some of the tension building in your stomach. “I should head home soon.”

Sugawara leans his back against the door and cocks his head. “You know, I know what you say about me.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes rove across your body, lingering on your chest for far longer than they should. “I’m not deaf, you know. I hear all the things you say about me. You’re just like all the other moms.” He pushes off the door, stalking closer to you. You instinctively take a step back. “Only difference is, you might actually have the guts to do something about it.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, so hard that you think your ribs might bruise. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Sugawara. I-”

You take another step back, and another, and suddenly your back collides with concrete. Your body jolts, and you yelp at the sudden pain.

Sugawara leans closer. One of his hands braces against the board behind your head, and the other one comes up to cradle your face. His long fingers hook under your chin and press, forcing you to tilt your head up and meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lip, and you can’t deny how the sensation makes your body feel like jelly.

Every rational thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away from him and go back to your husband, but God, it’s been so long since you’ve felt like this. It’s been so long since someone’s made your heart race and your breaths quicken, since someone’s made you blush like a schoolgirl over a simple touch.

“What was that you said?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek. The pain does nothing to clear the fog inside your mind. “I-I don’t, I-”

“You do,” he interrupts, his thumb still toying with your lip. “You’re so fucking obvious. I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Sugawara!” His lewd words make you gasp, but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s right. Your body has a mind of its own, and it wants nothing more than to wrap your lips around his thumb and pull him closer. It wants to feel his arms wrapped around you, feel his body towering over you.

But you can’t. As much as you want to, you can’t, because you have a husband at home who’s waiting for you. Sure, he isn’t home right now, because he’s putting in extra hours at the office. And sure, he hasn’t touched you or made you feel desired in weeks. Hell, you haven’t had a genuine conversation in weeks. But he’s still your husband! You try and remind yourself of that. You roll the thought around in your head, hoping that it’ll push your thoughts of Sugawara away.

But the young teacher is persistent, and there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes your chest tighten. “Call me Koushi, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess –”

“What, you’re going to pretend that it didn’t make you wetter? Going to pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together right now?” He leans in even closer, so that his breath brushes against your ear as he whispers. “Your body doesn’t lie, baby.”

A whine slips past your lips at his words, and then you gasp, mortified with yourself. But the grin that covers his face makes your transgression worth it, because God, he’s handsome. His hand squeezes your chin even tighter, and then trails down to your neck. Your breath catches in your chest. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, of his fingers trailing across your skin, his touch feather-light. It leaves you aching for more.

You instinctively whine again, and he lets out a noise of surprised delight. “Whining like this, and you’re still denying that you want me? What’s got you so embarrassed?”

“I have a husband,” you hiss – or, at least, you try to hiss. It comes out more like a whimper than anything else.

Sugawara looks at you for a beat – and then throws his head back and laughs. It catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

He collects himself, but his eyes are still gleaming when he looks back at you. “Sure, you have a husband. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about me, does it? Tell me, when’s the last time that your husband took care of you? When’s the last time that he touched you, or fucked you, or made you feel good?”

“Mr. Sugawara, this is inappropriate–”

“Stop lying to yourself.” His voice suddenly drops, his stare forceful and deadly serious. “Say the word, and I’ll go. We can pretend this never happened. But anyone with eyes can tell that you’re unsatisfied.”

“I…I don’t…” Your thoughts feel like a wave, building higher and higher. They bounce around your head, reverberating against your skull, so loud that you can’t even think.

“Why are you settling?”

“Mr. Sugawara, please, I–”

“Why are you settling, when you know you want more?”

The wave crests.

You don’t know who moves first, but somehow, your fingers are tangled in his hair, and his lips are slotted against yours. It’s not soft, or sweet – it’s a mess of teeth and tongues and feverish breaths. His hands are everywhere. They trail over your skin, explore the curves of your chest and your stomach, grip tightly at your waist to pull you closer.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you pant against his lips. Your lungs scream for oxygen, but you can’t bear to drag yourself away from him for even a second. He kisses so well. It may be rushed, and messy, but there’s so much hunger behind his actions that it makes your head spin. It’s like his lips are a live wire, and every second that they touch yours, they send a thousand volts of electricity arcing through your body.

“Koushi,” he breathes. “Call me Koushi, please.” You nod, and then hurriedly undo the buttons of his shirt, popping a few off in the process. Neither of you care. His hands finally dip beneath the hem of your dress, and he wastes no time in unceremoniously tugging it off your body.

Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself. Age and childbirth have changed your body, and you know that Mr. Sugawara – no, Koushi – is probably used to beautiful young women. You still don’t understand why his eye landed on you. He surely has dozens of girls his age fawning over him, with flat stomachs and perky tits. Why you?

He grips your wrists and pries your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that,” he says, so gentle in contrast to the fire from just moments ago. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful.”

Oh.

You can’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful. You can’t remember the last time that you felt beautiful.

But right now, with Koushi staring at you, eyes blown out with lust… you feel it.

He sinks onto his knees, lips already pressing little kisses against your hips and upper thighs. You try and protest – really, Koushi, you don’t have to – but he shushes you instantly. He hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in without hesitation. Even through the fabric of your panties, you’re in fucking heaven. His tongue laves against your clit, focusing so much attention onto the swollen bead that you can’t help but let out a moan.

You slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You’re in an elementary school, for God’s sake. The bake sale is at the other side of the large building, but you’re terrified of someone walking past and catching you. Guilt swirls around your heart, but it’s quick to dissipate when Koushi tugs your panties off and throws them over his shoulder. He buries himself into your cunt again, and it’s even better without the barrier. The coil in your stomach is tightening embarrassingly fast, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. His tongue laps at your folds, slurping lewdly.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Your body moves of its own accord. Your hips grind against Koushi’s face, and he moans right into your cunt. His lips move up to your clit again, alternating between licking and sucking. You’re so focused on his mouth that you barely notice his fingers, so long and pretty, collecting your wetness.

You do notice when he fucks two of those pretty fingers into you. He immediately starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, before hooking them against that spot inside of you that makes your head spin. Your entire body is shaking with euphoria, so much that you can’t handle it.

“Close,” you cry out, trying to keep yourself upright. “Close, close, please, don’t stop!”

He moans into you again when you tug at his hair. It’s the push that you need to finally fall over the edge. You bite into your palm to keep from screaming as you gush all over him, chest heaving and eyes tearing up.

He keeps curling his fingers, keeps lapping at your clit, until you tug on his hair and cry that the overstimulation is too much. As he lets your leg down and stands up, he makes a show of licking your cum off his fingers, slurping on them loudly. It would make you embarrassed, but you’re too focused on his other hand as it dips down to his belt. The muscles of his stomach flex as he undoes the buckle. You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his toned torso. He seems so slender when he’s dressed, but his shoulders are surprisingly broad.

He looks up at you with a little smirk. “Caught you staring,” he teases. You blush as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It’s already hard, and so pretty, just like him. His tip is red and dripping with precum. You want so badly to get a taste, but Koushi has other plans. He spins you by your shoulders, and then presses at the small of your back to make you lay across his desk.

You groan when you feel him slap his cock against your ass a few times, before running it through your folds to collect your wetness. “Please,” you gasp. “No teasing, please.”

“Just came, and you’re already needy?” he chuckles. “That husband of yours must really not be satisfying you.”

You’re spared from having to think of a retort by him sinking into you. A cry leaves your lips, but it’s too good for you to even care about the sound. He feels like heaven as he sinks into you. His cock stretches you out deliciously.

You’re already feeling delirious as he starts to shallowly thrust and work his way in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. “So – fuck…”

You can’t do anything but moan and scratch at the table as he starts to fuck into you in earnest. His cock is perfectly curved to hit your spot every time, and soon you’re reduced to a mess underneath him. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. It hurts, it’s all too much, but it’s so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this – mind numbing and all consuming, so powerful that it makes your eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” he groans again, bending down so that he can loom over you and leave little bites all over your back and shoulders. “Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that, shit!”

“Faster, please,” you beg, and he obliges. He sets an absolutely brutal pace, somehow managing to fuck you hard, fast, and at the perfect angle all at once. Moans and cries spill freely out of your open mouth. When he reaches forward to toy with your clit, it’s all too much, and it sends you over the edge again. Your body practically spasms as he fucks you through your second orgasm. He shows you no mercy, gives you no time to come down. You don’t know if you’re coming again, or if you just never stopped. Your mind is hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

You’re a twitching mess by the time that he pulls out, but you still whine at the loss. You’re far too fucked out to turn around and look at him, but in the corner of your consciousness, you can hear him panting and stroking himself furiously. His moans are so beautiful. Within a few short seconds, he’s coming all over your ass, painting your pretty skin white with his seed.

You don’t know how long you’re laying there before he taps your cheek to get your attention. “C’mon now,” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want your husband finding out, would we?”

1K notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 3 years ago

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hope you don’t stop running to me, cause i’ll always be waiting

character: dabi | todoroki touya - raver!dabi

genre: extremely sentimental fluff + smut with a sprinkle of angst

notes: okay so essentially, this is raver!dabi, but like the piece isn't really focused around that. the piece is about this all encompassing, ravenous love the reader feels for him, and it really borders on unhealthy obsession; it's about how he's the happiest she ever sees him at raves, but it's bittersweet because he's so fucking high, and it kind of contrasts his love for raves and drugs with her love for him | title cred: cinema by benny benassi ft. skrillex and gary go

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, size difference, drugs, obsessive unhealthy relationship, extreme codependency, manipulation if u squint, minimal prep, a sprinkle of degradation

words: 6k

synopsis:

And he’s so fucking breathtaking—striking sapphires and stunning smile more spectacular than any piece of art you’ve ever seen, the combined melody of deep grunts and trembling groans rattling around behind his ribs better than any piece of music you’ve ever heard, endless words streaming from his swollen ruby lips lovelier than any piece of fine literature you’ve ever read.

He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.

There’s nothing he loves more, no where he feels more at home, more at ease, more himself, than at a rave, you’re absolutely sure of it.

He sniffs them out like a hound, manages to find them no matter what city or country he’s in; loves them indiscriminately, regardless of how big or small they are; and drags you to each one he attends. Because he’s addicted to every single thing about them—irrevocably hooked on the pounding music that throbs like a beating heart, the marvelous colours that sear through the venue like vibrant flares of blood, the pretty pills and dazzling tabs and soft, soft powder—it all turns the party into a living entity, breathes life into the crowd, intoxicates him like nothing he’s ever felt before; and he’ll never be able to get enough of them, enough of how they make him feel, how they make him forget.

But he wants you there with him every time.

Sometimes, he’s hauling you into dingy basements full of wispy smoke and blaring speakers, staticky as they thrash out beats over a crowd, atmosphere saturated with sweat and the sickly sweet smell of hard candies. Others, he’s pulling you along on a lush field or cracked concrete tainted with brilliant flashes of crimson and violet, through thousands and thousands of people adorned in spiky fur and holographic latex until he finds the stage he’s looking for.

You don’t mind, though, unbothered by the pulsing music and the glistening crowds. You don’t mind, because this is your only chance to get these fleeting little glimpses of what true, pure happiness looks like on him—and you’re fucking addicted to it.

This weekend it happens to be a two-day-long EDM festival, set up far away from society in a large grassy meadow, embellished with wildflowers that dot the tangled jade strands with pops of pastel pinks and yellows and ivories—and it’s enchanting, whimsical, almost surreal in a sense. You can feel it, the atmosphere that drapes the masses of people scattered across the rolling hills, an energy unlike any other that envelops the patrons and lulls them into a state of soothing bliss.

He loves it. You love him.

And you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to accurately explain what the feeling of accompanying him to a rave is like; you don’t think the words even exist—the essence and aura, the feelings that swirl around in your chest, fuzzy and fluttery and fierce, transcending any and all languages. Because they’re something bigger, something better—they’re something higher, something stronger, something more than any word could ever describe.

No, there’s no way to define it, to portray it, nothing to encapsulate or summarize it, the genuine happiness that encompasses him, the way his pinched and stern features finally, finally relax, a special, gentle type of carefreeness seeping through the permanent mask of trepidation irrevocably sown into his strong face. It’s beautiful, mesmerizing to watch as they morph, the way his lips transform before your very eyes, from a firm, thin line into a loose, easygoing grin, sharp eyes liquefying as his lids droop a little, thin ring of sapphire outlining gaping onyx pupils, voracious in the way they observe, inhale, devour everything, blown and massive from whatever he’s high on—E or coke or acid; possibly a mixture of all three. You aren’t allowed to have any, of course, but it’s okay.

It’s okay, because as cheesy and stupid as it sounds, you’re high off of him—off his smell, spicy cinnamon and sweet campfire, laced with just a hint of Marlboros; off his taste, mint and smoke and sugar; off his touch, large hands caressing the natural curves and contours of your body, calloused fingertips rough and ragged as they drag across your soft flesh, skin pebbling with each graze.

It’s intoxicating, the way it invades your senses, overwhelms your receptors and has you yearning for more. It’s dumbfounding, the way your mind goes numb with him, infused with thoughts of DabiDabiDabi as he seeps and soaks and stitches himself into the tissues of your brain.

And you’ve never seen him more content than he is here, high out of his mind and entirely absorbed in the music, embraced in it like it’s a protective blanket, like it’s the arms of an old, treasured friend, like it’s home. Bitter acid creeps up your throat, blends with his saccharine spit ever-present and saturating your tongue, the thought that he’s only truly, genuinely, substantially happy when he’s high off his ass at a festival procuring a muted, blunt ache in the middle of your chest, dull blades that dig and burrow into your beating heart, shoved a little deeper with each bubble of laughter that escapes his lips.

Nevertheless, you can’t ever bring yourself to put an end to it, no matter how much it hurts him, hurts you both, because he looks so lovely, so elated—and you just can’t bear to take that from him, to take that from yourself.

Because he’s so fucking pretty like this, hair undone, careless and free as fluffy tufts of black bounce and sway with his movements, sticking to his temples and his neck—and he almost looks soft like this, strands of onyx hanging in his eyes and curling around his ears. Because happiness looks so good on him, so gorgeous on him, with those bright smiles that span his face, across his cheeks from ear to ear, and those stunning sapphire irises that glow with pleasure, contentment, bliss—and you wish, wish so desperately that you got to see it more often, that you had the chance to experience it without the drugs steadily coursing through his system, that they weren’t necessary, mandatory, in manufacturing these emotions.

But you’ll take what you can get. And he will, too—because you both love watching, both love feeling him this ecstatic, this relaxed, all his anguish and trauma forgotten, those chains that shackle him, that weigh him down and confine him, disintegrated by the synthetic emotions, burnt to ash just for a night or two.

And so, you aid, you help, you enable—because while you’ll take what you can get, you can’t ever get enough, either, eyes wide and unblinking as they place a pretty pink tablet stamped with a heart on his tongue, entranced by the way his lips close around your fingers and suck. And it’s so fucking hot, a rush of warmth flooding between your thighs and furling tightly in your belly. His eyes are shining as he stares at you, stuffed full of so much love it nearly hurts, and you want, you want, you want.

It isn’t long before drug induced euphoria is rushing through his veins and colliding with the constant, steady bass oozing from the speakers, vibrations travelling through the grassy earth beneath him until they reach his feet and flood his body. He tells you he can feel it in his chest, in his heart, in his very soul, seeping into his bloodstream like the sweetest poison, forcing a pleasant buzz through his limbs.

And it’s the best—it’s better than anything he’s ever felt, anything you’ve ever felt, hands roaming across bodies as music pours from the mammoth speakers, tracing soft lines and hard edges, fingers committing them to memory through touch alone; foreheads knocking together as he giggles into your mouth, as you suck his laughter from him and let it bloom in your chest, bright and buzzing and full of him, so full you feel as though you may burst; tongues dragging against one another as you both lick either side of a heart-shaped lollipop, sticky crimson candy sparkling in the waning sunlight, before he pushes his gum into your mouth, endless huffs of amusement spilling from one throat into another as you pass it back and forth—a game of sorts—smiling into the messy, slippery kisses, lips sliding and slurping and sucking.

Colourful beads embellish his arms, slender wrists and sculpted forearms peaking through the gaps, plastic droplets smacking together delicately with his movements. The brilliant colours are vibrant in contrast to his smooth skin, ivory tainted gold by the August sun, to later be painted by the lively splotches of aquamarine and lilac and lime and fuchsia as the lights dance through the night sky, spraying across the crowd.

His body glistens under the setting sun, varnished in a thin layer of sweat, gleaming droplets decorating his skin, catching in the beams and glittering like tiny diamonds. Strands of inky hair cling to his neck and white cotton hugs his torso, outlining the firm muscles of his back, the plains and contours that glide almost gracefully under scarred skin and soft fabric with each of his movements.

He’s a horrible dancer; truly, but he makes you giggle—which makes him giggle, large hands finding your waist and tugging you towards him, forehead bowed to yours again as he stares at you, cavernous pupils flitting from each of your features—your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth—with his lips slightly parted, as if he’s in awe. Tiny thumbs run over his clammy cheekbones, and his eyes close briefly with the motion, body swaying a little as he leans into you, further pressing his forehead into yours. His molars are grinding again, you can feel it, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his jaw under soft, tender palms, and you tsk softly.

“You need another lollipop, Daddy,” you tell him, and although you’re practically shouting over the music, it feels like your whispering, wisps of your adoring voice caressing his skin, curling around him and sopping into his flesh, warming him to the core of his soul. Little fingers are pressing into the hinges of his jaw as you speak, their gentle touch instantly diffusing the tension, and he nods.

The whine that catches in his throat when you pull away is one of the sweetest, most valuable sounds you’ve ever heard, and it makes your chest flutter, eyes flicking up to look at him through your lashes with a beaming smile. He’s still leaning towards you, slowly falling forward, a magnet drawn to magnetite, and you love it, you love it, you love it.

“You look so fucking cute in your tutu, princess,” he’s chuckling as you root through your tiny bag for more candy. And you can tell he really means it, a dopey smile decorating his face, eyes shimmering with mirth, with drugs, with love.

A giggle slips past your lips, hands smooth down the tufts of tulle adorning your waist as you shyly murmur your thanks, his own smile growing. Lidded sapphires float around your body, slow and belated as they take inventory, words unhurried and sluggish as they tumble from his mouth.

“I-I should…Uh, I should put some sunscreen on my baby, sh-shouldn’t I? Don’t want your shoulders or that pretty face of yers to burn, y’know,”

You really don’t need to—the sun’s sunk halfway below the horizon by now—but you indulge him anyway, would never be able to deny him a fucking thing.

It’s fumbling, clumsy and messy in his inebriated state, but it’s still so cute, so considerate, so caring, rough hands slathering the thick cream across your skin, rubbing in awkward, blundering circles—and it sends sizzling sparks shooting through your bloodstream, alighting your entire body with a blaze that is so specifically him.

The sky turns from coral to navy all at once, and then you’re clasping onto him tightly, hugging your body to his as hands roam, as fingers tangle and tug and tow, as lips latch and lick. Salt mixes with his usual taste, tongue tingling with it as it laps at the dips of his collarbones. The sharp smell of sugar stings your nose, and you inhale deeply, face nuzzling against his damp neck. He smells sweet, like sunshine and burning hickory wood, like a summer breeze grazing freshly washed linen, carrying with it a sprinkle of cinnamon.

And you can’t stop, powerless to your urges and void of all control as you nibble at the column of his throat, as you suck the prettiest galaxies of violet and periwinkle into his flesh, as the tip of your tongue traces the jutting bones at the base of his neck, over and over and over again until they’re saturated in thick layers of your gleaming spit.

Because he’s fucking delicious, and it’s never enough—will never be enough, regardless of if you spend hours kissing, until your lungs are burning and your jaw is aching and your mouths and chins and cheeks are coated in each other’s sticky saliva.

Because you’re fucking greedy, needy, hungry, limitless in how much you desire, more and more and more.

Because even when he’s pounding into you, it still isn’t ever enough. You want to consume him the way he consumes those pretty little tablets, want to breathe him in and hold him in your chest, in your heart, in your soul, forever. Not all of him, you promise, you swear, you’ll settle with just a piece—just a piece you can carry around everywhere with you, always. It’s the worst addiction you’ve ever suffered, it’s the sweetest heaven you’ve ever felt, it’s the only semblance of home you’ve ever known—you’ll keep chasing that high he gives you forever, keep chasing him as he chases drugs, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

And eventually, eventually it becomes too much to bear, just as it does every single night, this seething desire that roars and rumbles within you, rattling the cage of your ribs as it demands more. Eventually, it has you yanking on his arm, both hands clasped around one of his, shrill begs and pleads beginning to claw their way up your throat.

Strong hands manhandle you against him, a thick thigh slotting between your own, and you whimper, burying your face against his neck. With such a large crowd, and such thunderous music, and so many people higher than the clouds, no one can tell what you’re doing; no one can tell how naughty you’re being.

He knows exactly what you need, exactly what’s got you so restless, pressing his muscled thigh into your core and chuckling at the instant moan it procures.

“Daddy,” you mewl loudly against his ear, curled fingers giving another tug on his t-shirt, cunt already grinding steadily against his thigh. “I need you,”

He snickers, the sound vibrating against you, head tilting curiously and lips molding into a cocky smirk. “You need what, baby?”

And the whine that breaks in your chest is absolutely pathetic, bottom lip jutted out into a deep pout, grinding against his thigh becoming more erratic, more urgent. You hate that he’s gonna make you say it, face crumpled up in adorable irritation—his favourite expression on you, you’re sure, his smirk growing into a grin as a growl rumbles in your chest.

“Your cock,” shimmering eyes, glazed with want that reflects the flashing lights in their glassiness, stare up at him, blinking twice in enticement. “Please?”

He hums in thought as he pretends to think, to consider, as if his leg isn’t pressing further and further into your core as you aimlessly hump it, as if his cock isn’t already hard and pressed up against your hip and throbbing through his jeans, as if he isn’t grinding against you in infinitesimal motions, little gyrations of his hips that almost feel subconscious instead of intentional—as if he can’t help himself.

“Daddy!” you squeal, barely audible over the heavy bass, eyebrows scrunched in the way they always do when you don’t get what you want. “Now!”

Normally, if he wasn’t higher than the full moon hanging in the sky and flickering stars scattered in uneven clusters around it, such a bratty request would’ve earned you a hefty punishment—something that would’ve left your skin raw, cunt abused, and completely unsatisfied—because bad girls don’t get to cum, now, do they?

But tonight it only makes him laugh harder, cooing about how fucking cute you get when you’re all needy like this, like it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever witnessed, cobalt eyes shining with delight and adoration as he laces his fingers through yours, pulling you along behind him as he weaves in and out of the sea of bodies.

But the car’s too far, you’re whining as you trail behind him, a deep pout carved into your face, eyebrows knitted so firmly they weave creases into your forehead. I can’t wait, Daddy, I can’t wait!

And it’s true—you can’t wait any longer, you need him inside of you this very instant or you’ll fucking combust—a deprived addict vying for their favourite vice; a raving, ravenous fire that burns bright and blistering in the pit of your tummy, constantly starved for him.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, this intense, insatiable craving; one that has your thighs clenching so tightly it’s painful, that burns through your veins and scalds the insides of your stomach, that has your blood bubbling and nerves buzzing, whole body feeling electric in his presence.

It’s a gnawing urgency, one that tears at the pit of your belly and roars in your chest, filling your ribcage until it feels like it’s about to burst, until it has you choking on botched gasps of air and his name, nails digging into his hand as you tug on his arm, pleading, begging, needing.

It’s going to devour you from the inside out if you don’t get what you want soon, if it isn’t fed with what it wants soon, expletive filth spilling from your lips in frenzied little huffs as Dabi tries in vain to drag you to the car—please, Daddy, I feel like I’m gonna die, need your cock, Daddy, need it right now, right now, right now, fill me with your cum, Daddy, I’m so empty without it; warm me with your cum, Daddy, please, please, pretty please, I can’t wait!

Such sentiments, woven together between threads of high whines and broken gasps, evoke a dark snarl ripping through his chest, his true persona cutting through the manufactured euphoria for just a moment—and then you see him, you see your Daddy, you see your home, blazing in his glassy eyes as he whirls around on you and crashes his lips to yours, large hands splayed on either side of your face, nimble fingers gripping your head so tightly it hurts.

But the pressure is welcomed, little hands pawing at his thick belt again, pathetic and desirous, and the sheer force has you stumbling backwards, feet catching on your own ankles as the two of you tumble to the ground.

“You are such a fucking brat, y’know that?” he’s nearly moaning between kisses, lips never leaving yours as he spits the words into your mouth, hips snuggling into their favourite spot between your thighs.

“You love it,”

“A spoiled little bitch,”

“Y-Your fault,” you giggle into his mouth, a large palm colliding with your ass half a second later, knocking a yelp from your throat, a pitiful little squeak that he readily swallows down.

Calloused fingers twist in the lace of your panties and he yanks, holes materializing in the delicate fabric, lithe digits hooking through them and unceremoniously jerking the ruined remains down your thighs. It’s graceless, movements inept and cumbersome in his attempt to remove them from your body, stubbornly refusing to break your kiss, hovering body supported by one hand and his knees. The material finally snaps, fingers tearing through it, like fire blazing through intricate spider webs. A whine catches in your throat and he laughs darkly, tongue lapping at your neck, your jaw, your mouth itself, drenching you in sugar-infused saliva.

Lips part immediately, eagerly, ready to greet his tongue with your own, and he huffs another chuckle into you, breath scorching as it floods the cavern of your mouth, and God, he’s got himself such a good girl, such a good slut, doesn’t he?

The words are mumbled out, slick lips gliding against yours, a little slurred and stuffed full of sticky spit as massive, rough hands run up your thighs, grabbing healthy handfuls of your flesh and squeezing.

A sharp gasp escapes from your throat, hips instinctively bucking against his from the sudden pain, and he laughs, deep and sinister and reverberating against his ribcage.

You can feel the dull thud of the music in the distance, bass burrowing its way into your chest, pulsating beat slithering through the pliant earth and oozing up through the dirt against your back. Magnificent glows of azure and amethyst blanket the festival in their embrace, bleeding into one another before they morph into and emerald and magenta, haloing the grounds and all of its inhabitants.

But all of those colours, the almost ethereal beauty of the party itself, is nothing compared to the sapphire gazing down at you, the ivory skin that almost glows against the grass and the pines and the night sky, the fluffy onyx tufts your fingers tangle in.

Teeth sink into his plush, scarred bottom lip and you suck harshly, taking it into your mouth, the tip of your tongue toying with it, laving over the supple flesh and dousing it in your saliva. A snarl clatters around in his mouth as he pulls his lip from between yours, teeth scraping against it in the process.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you’re chanting, muffled by his mouth, muddled by his tongue as it aggressively pushes against yours. “Need’a, need’a,”

The words snag in your throat, evaporating into ghosts of the sentences they were supposed to be, fading into pathetically breathy moans.

And it’s hard to think, when you’re like this, when you’re ensnared in him, consumed by his touch and smell and taste, tongue shoved so far down your throat you’re choking on it, brain gone numb—dumb—from it all, incapable of knitting together words and forming a sentence. Instead, your hand snakes between your bodies to cup his cock, a loud moan hitching in his chest as he immediately grinds against your touch.

“Want,” you mumble, groping at him and forcing a whimper from his chest. “Now, now, now,”

“So fucking needy,” he’s teasing, none of his usually heat to his voice, peppered with moans and the sweetest giggles as he rests his forehead against yours. Reaching down, two slender fingers prod your hole, giggles fading into groans as his eyes shut. “Soaked, huh?” he asks, voice strained, your head nodding almost ferociously in response. “Always drenched for me, aren’t you, my babygirl,”

But you’re too impatient to be properly prepped, to be thoroughly stretched out, impetuous legs kicking and squirming from underneath him, whining and pleading for him to just fuck you already!

They’re uncontainable, the words barreling past your lips, high and cracked and rapacious as you beg—beg for him to fill you up, to make you feel whole again, to stretch and shred and slash you to pieces, to put you back together, part by painstaking part, to complete you.

And he’s practically keening at the sentiments, hips rutting ungracefully against your soft palm, cock twitching through the denim of his jeans.

“Alright, baby, alright,” he’s hushing you, words slurred, heavy and unhurried despite his frantic actions. “Daddy’ll give you what’ya need,”

“Wanna ride,” you nearly wail, little fingers clawing desperately at his broad shoulders, fingertips sinking into his flesh through the thin cotton.

“Ch-Christ,” he nearly chokes on the curse, head nodding in choppy movements as he allows you to push the two of you over.

Because, well, baby gets what baby wants.

Or, at least, that’s what he’s telling you as you straddle him, lilt void of its normal derision, replaced with a kind of admiration.

Nails dig into the toned, smooth planes of his chest as you sink down on him, an involuntary hiss escaping gritted teeth, features scrunching in a cute wince. A hitched expletive escapes his throat, lidded eyes falling shut as his head lolls to the side, angular jaw on display.

The stretch is a welcome one, feels like home, so familiar it’s almost comforting, little cunt throbbing as you split yourself open on his cock.

Cool, refreshing air rushes into your lungs the moment he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snugly against your cervix, and that ache, that addiction, that animal tethered to the very core of your soul is immediately satiated, immense pressure deflating and the strain on your ribs easing up.

It feels perfect, feels right, feels whole, and suddenly, you’re alive again, intense sparks shocking your system as they sear through your veins, invigorated and revitalized.

It doesn’t last long though—it never does.

Because you’re just as famished, just as voracious, just as avid as that entity birthed from obsession and addiction inside of you, satisfied only for a moment before you need more.

It isn’t slow, isn’t sweet or soft, because neither of you can take that right now, neither of you need that right now. And the very moment he bottoms out, the minute you feel him nudging against your cervix, your hips begin to rock forward, rough hands finding their usual place on your hips, aiding you in your motions as he bucks up, falling into an instantaneous rhythm together

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’s panting out, bleary eyes watching you as his words knot on his languid tongue. “Bounce on m’cock, princess, bounce on it,”

The earth is firm beneath your knees, but you can still feel those faint vibrations travelling though the dirt. Blades of grass tangle themselves in inky tufts as his head falls back, neck arching, jade strands in a sea of black.

He’s so much louder when he’s this high, deep guttural groans rumbling in his chest, broken whines catching in his throat, growled out curses tumbling from his saliva slicked lips. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his chin, and you long to lick it up.

“You always look so pretty, s-so perfect taking my cock,” he’s babbling, voice soaked in awe, pupils blown and shimmering as they gobble up your reactions, your expressions—every little sound emitted from your throat, ripped raw and wrecked from the column; every little twitch of your features, the way your lashes flutter and eyes roll back with each roll of his hips; every little shake and shiver and shudder, tiny jolts of electricity, of him, exploding through your veins—calloused hands sliding up and down your thighs in a clumsy caress. “F-Fuck, princess, so gorgeous,”

You should be quiet—really, you should both be quiet, fucking in an open field and committing such a heinous act of public indecency.

But you’re powerless to stop the mewls and cries from prying past your lips, and he’s hopeless to quell the steady stream of words flowing from his own, increasing in pitch and frequency with each gyrate forward, with each rut and rub and grind of your hips.

“Feel good, Da-Daddy?”

And he’ll never understand how you sound so fucking sweet, so fucking precious, as obscene words flow from those pretty lips, punched out of your chest with each rock of your hips, core of your body intimately skewered by him.

He doesn’t answer, can’t answer, words dissolving into a fractured moan as he nods vigorously.

“Want you to cum, D-Daddy—ah—fill me up, please,”

The grin that splits his face is nothing short of spectacular—it’s nothing like those sharp smiles he gives his enemies, or those smug little grins he gifts his friends, or those tiny lopsided smirks that grace his lips when he’s teasing. No, this smile—this smile is only for you; a gentle quirk of his lips, parted just enough to see those gleaming pearly teeth, fluid as it stretches and wobbles with his ragged pants and snapping hips. It’s almost overwhelming, the emotion pouring from that single, simple action alone, has your chest stuttering and eyes blurring, knowing that this is something special, that this is something that is yours and yours alone. And this smile—this smile is genuine, true happiness. This smile cuts through all of the drugs and anguish and rage, shining bright and beautiful as it beams up at you.

He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.

You’ll never get used to this, you swear to God. Such amazement will never cease, makes fucking him a religious experience every single time, always so astoundingly exquisite. You’ll never get used to the way those dark growls claw their way up his throat, vibrating in the column. You’ll never get used to the way your name sounds on his tongue when he’s just about to cum, all pitchy and broken and punctured by hitched breaths. You’ll never get used to the way his thick eyelashes flutter, unfocused eyes rolling in his skull just a little—never fully enough to hide that brilliant sapphire from you—right before he stuffs you full of hot sticky seed.

And you never want to.

—

This is your favourite part, has always been your favourite part, will always be your favourite part, every single time. It’s terribly selfish of you—you know it is, know it’s awful and greedy and so, so obsessive—but you love it, love it as much as he loves the drugs and the music and the ostentatious lights.

Because he clings to you when he’s coming down, nuzzles his face into your very touch, practically purrs out his admiration for you as you pat his damp face down with an old t-shirt, brushing back the stringy strands of sweat-drenched hair from his forehead.

Because you’re his protection when he’s coming down, swathing him in your love, in your gentle caresses and your tender venerations—his very own guardian angel, keeping him from plummeting into the concrete and shattering into a million pieces, cradling him in your soft wings as you ease his feet back onto this earth.

Usually it’s scary, he’s telling you that night in the backseat of his car, eyes still glazed, breathing slow and shallow. Or, it was. It was scary, coming down without you—but not anymore. Because you’re here now. You’re here with him, and you take such good care of him, and he loves you, he loves you so much, he loves you more than anything on this planet—or any others.

He used to feel nervous, he’s babbling on as tiny fingers press into tight, coiled muscles, rubbing the tension out of them in small circles. Used to have memories… he trails off then, and you don’t push, never push, just humming your acknowledgement softly, whispered affirmations falling from your lips as palms smooth over his cheeks before caressing his hair, pulling mewls from his throat as he arches into your touch.

Bleary sapphires stare up at you, glittering in the dim light flittering through his car windows from the flickering lamp posts. He’s tired, he tells you suddenly, face somber, sober, but he can’t sleep.

“I know,” you murmur, petting his hair again. “Just try to relax,”

He is trying, he promises, vigorously nodding up at you, eyes wide as if they’re imploring you to understand.

But words keep spilling from his mouth—involuntary, automatic, reflexive—unfocused eyes staring up at the roof, then darting around the car slowly, distractedly, like there’s a million other thoughts surging through his mind—you can see them, swimming in his eyes, tainted with paranoia, with fear, even though there’s a steady stream of presumably unrelated words flowing from his throat.

He talks about anything, everything, nothing—all at once. He tells you about the festival as if you weren’t there, and you let him ramble, unable to stifle the small smile that forms on your lips. Because it’s cute, and he’s still so excited. He tells you how pretty you look, tells you about how good you ride his cock, how irresistible your cunt is, how much he loves stuffing it with his cum.

And throughout it all you nod and hum and coo, just like you always do, just like you always will.

And it’s nights such as these, at four and five in the morning right before the sun begins to creep over the horizon, navy sky fading into a faint amber glow the only indication that it’s coming—that you are careless with your words, that you are more honest than ever before, because you know he won’t remember it—or, if he does, he won’t bring it up until he’s high like this again.

Because his being high provides this limbo, this purgatory for the both of you to be open and raw and vulnerable under the guise of drugs, with the knowledge that you can always backtrack, always claim not to remember or that you said no such thing, if you ever need to.

You don’t ever need to, but the option’s there nonetheless, like a buffer of sorts—a buffer for him to be raw and real, a buffer for you to be less cautious, to be more reckless and let the words stream from your lips without fear of consequence or punishment; a shield for both of you to use against such susceptibility.

It’s become an unspoken agreement between the two of you, a pass. And that’s what makes these nights the best.

And you will always consider yourself one of the lucky ones, one of the privileged few that are allowed, permitted, approved to experience him like this—to watch that well-worn mask of apathy melt from his face as drug-laced happiness bleeds and burns through it.

It hurts, sends sharp spears searing through your chest, embedding themselves in the depths of your fucking soul, because you can only imagine what true happiness would look like on him.

Maybe it would be too much, you want to trick yourself into believing, desperate to find excuses for the drugs and the artificial euphoria, to sanction this type of behaviour. Maybe he would be too beautiful, too bright, too brilliant if he were truly happy—maybe he would burn out too quickly, if he were too happy, like a shooting star that flies across the indigo sky, sparkling and sizzling and stark in it’s stunning, gorgeous and ethereal and much too short lived as it fizzles out into nothing, into darkness and emptiness, only a moment later—gone forever.

And you suppose, if that were to be the case, that you could selfishly accept this fate—if only to keep him here with you for just a little bit longer. You could help him shoulder the crushing weight of that torture, that agony, that suffering that he’s constantly carrying, spine straining under it, if it means that you get to be with him for more, for longer, for eternity. You could handle that, if it means you get to be greedy, if it means that you get to have him, on this earth, living and breathing and beside you.

Still, you hope, very much so, deep down at the bottom of your heart, that he will one day find that true, genuine, sincere happiness that he deserves—and that it will stick, not just for a moment, for a few fleeting seconds, but for a while, for forever.

He’s quiet when you tell him this. He probably won’t remember it come morning, too high to remember much of anything, but he’s so honest when he’s like this, fucked up out of his mind, and words leak from his lips without his permission as he tells you, grave and serious, that he has…in you.

And you suppose…You suppose he’s right; happiness isn’t exactly a person, or a place, or an object—happiness is a sentiment, an experience, a collection of memories, adventures, evocations.

“Happiness is...it’s when I’m with you,”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #bnha smut #todoroki touya #todoroki touya x reader #waaaAAAAAAAAH #ever so slightly nerve-wracking hahaha #this is EXTREMELY sentimental you have been WARNED #it's also supposed to feel almost suffocating or overwhelming #bcoz ur reader yk #okay ANYWAY ENJOY #tw drugs #tw toxic relationship #tw daddy kink

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

The Brothers Dropping Hints to a Remarkably Oblivious MC

I liked this idea and wanted to flesh it out a bit before I bury my head in research for requests. Maybe I'll make a part two later? Who knows.

Intro:

Seven demon brothers, one human. All seven want their attention… So the family agrees to a challenge: Can they get their human to return their affections without actually confessing first? Perhaps… but there's a catch. The MC is denser than a bag of bricks in the love department...

Good luck, boys.

Lucifer

If it weren't for this silly challenge, he'd have considered hiring a sky-writer because he couldn't think of anything more obvious and unavoidable than that…

It honestly astounded him how utterly unaffected the MC seems to be by all of his flirtations. It'd be impressive if it weren't so frustrating.

He could praise their appearance and they'd seemingly forget the compliment.

He could offer them all manner of gifts or meals and they'd think he was just being nice.

He could probably straight up give them a diamond ring and they'd assume it was a late birthday present…

He was so out of ideas he was considering just ripping off the bandage and asking them directly, brothers be damned, but then that'd be admitting defeat and that’s just not on the table for him.

No, no… He just had to be more patient… Maybe offer them a dance next time? He'll win this challenge yet... maybe…

Mammon

Of course the Great Mammon can get his human to notice his feelings! He's their first man, he knows them more than anybody else! This will be a piece of cake. Right?... right…??

It is not. It is not a piece of cake.

First off, Mammon's already shot himself in the foot because of his tsundere-ness. Turns out when he says, "It's not because I like you!" they actually believe him… 😰

Secondly, he's terrible at expressing his affection in ways that aren't material or possessive...

When he buys them things, they think he's acting sweet and just… pay him back or buy him something in return…

Like, he's not complaining (much) but that's not the point!!

Then when he tries to spend extra time with them they assume it's Mammon being Mammon and not, like, because he's trying to show them how crazy he is about them.

And now he can’t even be honest about his feelings if he wants to because of the damn challenge!! 😫

This seemed like a lost cause for him really… Looks like someone else is going to have to win…

Leviathan

He's been cursing their name to here and back for stealing his heart so thoroughly while still having no idea that they actually had it!!! He'd almost swear they were mocking him but eventually, he genuinely started to think they were just that clueless… 🤦‍♀️

At first he thought that he found a loophole because he could just act out a bunch of obvious anime tropes to not-so-subtly hint at his affections!

...but each time he tried to make a move, he lost his nerve and chickened out at the last minute…

"MC! I just bought some pocky off of Akuzon, do you want to try some?"

"Sure, Levi! 🙂"

"Oh u-uh… Great! H-here you go.. " *hands them the whole box...*

When these efforts failed, he went to plan B, which was again not-so-subtly throwing hints at how special they were to him.

"Hey MC, do you remember that game you were looking at? I got it for us! Come on, let's play together! I'll even let you use my favorite controller!"

"MC, why don't you sit over here? W-wait not that close…! No wait, don’t go!! Urgh!! 😫"

At first he thought it was working until he overheard them talking to Mammon, "Mm? Oh, of course Levi's been so nice to me! We're best friends!"

… Ouch, but not unwarranted. He'd have to try something else or just admit defeat…

Satan

He still truly can't get a good read on them. Are they interested? Just nice? A chronic sufferer of selective blindness?? What does he have to do here???

Satan took a page out of Levi's playbook at first, but replaced anime tropes with what you find in old romance novels.

He was on his best behavior whenever MC was around. Downright gentlemanly, right down to kissing their hand and putting his jacket over puddles for them to walk.

… Unfortunately, Lucifer refused to be outshined by his little brother in the princely courtship department and the two started butting heads (almost literally).

If Satan gave up his jacket for a puddle, then Lucifer would take their hand to "help" them across it. If Satan held a door for them, then Lucifer would hold it too and insist that he go in first. If the MC was cold they suddenly were covered by two coats… It was infuriating!

And you know what's even worse? It was counterproductive.

After a while the MC just thought that it was some kind of game or challenge between him and Lucifer and not him trying to express his actual affections…

Looks like he wasn't going to be winning this either…

Asmodeus

On one hand, he kind of gets it because he's lovey and feely with everybody but, sweetheart, please take a hint every once in a while…

Asmo comes into the game with both an advantage and disadvantage. He's far more versed in the art of wooing than any of his brothers, but he was so close with them to begin with it's going to take a lot to get the point across…

Confident boi starts inviting them out more, lunch "dates," spa days, shopping sprees, any excuse to be alone with them really hoping they'd get the idea…

...but they didn't. It was just some fun time with Asmo and not any particular special treatment…

His compliments all seemed to bounce off of them too. They never seemed particularly touched and he wouldn't be surprised if they forgot about them within five minutes of hearing them…

Kicking it up to drastic measures, he tries to initiate even more cuddles and hugs than usual… But it feels like he could literally sew himself to their clothes and they'd think he's just being friendly! How do they not see what's going on here, are they just messing with him??

After a week of trying to monopolize the MC's time he had to throw in the towel, certain if he couldn't get through to them then no one could! 😣

Beelzebub

Well, Beel's a little oblivious himself sometimes so it's not like he couldn't relate… He just wished he could be upfront and ask them because they really didn't seem to notice.

Chances are he was already cuddling with them, sharing his food, taking them places, and doing all the stuff he'd usually do when he likes a person... They probably just considered that to be his normal behavior by that point…

So. He just does what he normally does, but MORE.

Suddenly he's giving the MC half of his meals instead of a third. (Which is what? Enough for a family of four?)

His hugs have gone from just firm to full on bear-snuggles.

He's always offering to take them to a new restaurant or some other place he likes and showing them the best things on the menu (written or hidden).

But it's not exactly going anywhere… 😥

They seemed happy and liked spending time with him but if they were actually noticing feelings for them at all, he couldn't tell…

After a while he kind of gives up on getting them to notice and just starts to enjoy making them happy. Sure, he won't win the challenge, but for now a smiling MC is enough for him 😊

Belphegor

Look. He may be the King of Mixed Signals, but he's considering just giving up his crown but nothing he's tried has been working...

Similar to Mammon, he’s starting at a disadvantage by regularly being more than a little cryptic about his feelings…

To be honest, it was sort of a reflex for him by this point which didn’t help matters at all. He’s not that used to being completely open with his emotions so he has to fight the urge to downplay things all the time...

Oh, the MC agreed to go with him to the botanical gardens? Cool.

Wait, no, not just cool. It’s great! Really great!! He’s really happy about it, MC, can you see his smile?? He’s smiling! That’s rare! Please notice!!

(They don’t seem to notice…)

Eventually he got even more frustrated than Satan or Mammon and nearly just asked them point blank, but he knew his brothers would flip if he tried…

By the end of the challenge he thought it was a dumb, stupid waste of time and energy and he regrets ever agreeing to it (and he’s not just being pissy because he couldn’t pull it off or anything......)

Bonus:

After a couple weeks of zero progress for everybody, the brothers seemed to snap. The MC woke up one morning for breakfast only to find their seven demons waiting intently for them to walk into the dining room. What followed was a cartoon squabble of kicked up dust, flying limbs, and thrown objects as each desperately tried to climb over the other in order to get to their human first (even Lucifer nearly flung Satan across the table by the foot at one point). Poor MC was so confused that they had to shout at them just to break up the fighting…

When asked what's gotten into their demons so suddenly, the brothers have only one response:

"WE LOVE YOU!!!"

…. Eh?

*MC.exe has crashed*

Back to square one, guys...

#obey me #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios

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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years ago

Note

Choosing which prompt to send you from list was an impossible task!! They’re just all that good🥺 but if u feel inspired, maybe 15 or 76 would be really cute for stevetony?

Also, hope you have the best and loveliest day, friend 💖💝

thank you for sending one!! for #76 - "thank you for making me smile" - here's 1.6k words of getting together and absolutely terrible jokes

also i hope you have the loveliest day too 🥺

"I'm never listening to your advice again," Steve says the second he walks in the door. He lets it slam shut behind him and stomps off to his bedroom with another rough bang.

Tony and Bucky exchange a look on the couch, and Tony pauses their video game.

"Me or you?"

"Probably you," Bucky says. "Your advice is usually shit."

Tony scoffs, "Please, I'm a genius for a reason. All of my advice is amazing. Or are you forgetting that I'm the reason that you have a boyfriend right now?"

"One time in the last three years and you won't let it go."

"It'd be you and your right hand for the rest of your life if it wasn't for me."

Bucky rolls his eyes, "I would have made it work with Sam on my own eventually. But that's besides the point. I haven't given Steve any advice lately, so it has to be you. And in case you forgot, I don't even live here. He didn't know I was here when he said it."

"You don't live here?" Tony says with mock surprise. "Wow, you eat an awful lot of our food then."

Bucky grins, "It's payback for all the times you did the same to me before I moved out. Now go fix Steve. We'll rematch tomorrow."

"I didn't break him," Tony argues, even as he sets his controller down and stands from the couch. "I am a beacon of wisdom."

"You started a fire in the microwave twice last week, beacon."

Tony flips him off on his way to Steve's bedroom. He knocks once and ignores it when Steve tells him to go away.

Steve is sitting at his desk with his back to the door and his sketchbook open in front of him. He has a pencil in his hand, but the page is untouched.

"So, uh, what's up with you?"

"Nothing."

Tony nods slowly, "Right, okay. Care to share what advice of mine went wrong exactly? Cause I gotta say I'm drawing a blank."

"I was talking to Buck."

"Oh," Tony says in relief, then he frowns. "How'd you even know he was here?"

"When isn't he here? Our fridge is always empty because of him."

Tony smiles and flops down on Steve's bed, propping himself up against the pillows with his arms folded behind his head. He pushes the back of Steve's chair with his foot, making it spin his way.

"So what did Bucky do?"

Steve looks like he's about to say, but then he bites his lip and shakes his head instead. "Really doesn't matter."

Tony looks at him for a long moment, taking in all those subtle tells of his. The slight downturn of the corners of his mouth and the crease between his brows, but they don't come with any tension in his jaw or shoulders, which means he's more disappointed than angry. His eyes never hide hurt, but there's none to be found in them. Whatever it was didn't crush him, and Tony knows just how to fix him when he's like this.

He pokes Steve's arm with his socked toes. "Hey, Steve, why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants?"

Steve sighs, but there's already a hint of a smile. Further evidence to support Tony's hypothesis.

"Why, Tony?"

"In case he got a hole in one."

Steve presses his lips together and shakes his head. "That's not very funny."

"Why do bees have sticky hair?"

The look Steve gives him is long-suffering.

"Because they use honeycombs," Tony grins, and Steve relaxes back into his chair a little. "What kind of music do planets like?"

"Neptunes," Steve says, smirking a little, and Tony pouts dramatically.

"Nooo, how did you know that?"

"Used it on me two months ago. Remember when you broke the sink and you didn't want me to be mad at you anymore?"

"I also remember fixing the sink in the same day, but fine dwell on the fact that I broke it in the first place."

Steve laughs, and Tony feels the knot in his own chest loosen. He hates it when Steve's upset. It throws him off his own axis, because his world revolves around Steve's sun.

He gets up from the desk chair, and Tony shifts over to make room for him on the bed. They reach for each other's hands at the same time, interlocking fingers in the small space between them.

It's moments like these when the longing hits him the most. When Steve is this close, but it doesn't mean nearly as much to him as it does to Tony.

Sometimes he pictures what it would be like if he leaned over a little more. If Steve's eyes would flicker down to his lips, then away quickly like he didn't want to be caught. He wonders what Steve's cheek would feel like under his hand as he pulls his attention back, silently telling him it's okay to look.

It always stops there in his mind, right before a first kiss that he just knows would change his life. Guilt creeps in, because he should be happy with what he has. Happy with all of the pieces Steve lets him have now. It's more than most people will ever get.

"Thank you," Steve says. "You're the only one who can ever get me to smile after a day like today."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tony asks, tilting his head to the side to look at him.

Steve bites his lip again, staring up at the ceiling. It takes a long moment for him to talk.

"There's somebody that I like, but they don't like me back. Not like that, anyway."

Tony's heart sinks, but he tries not to let it show. "You told them and they rejected you?"

Steve shakes his head, "No, I don't need to tell them to know how they feel. But Bucky said that I should find someone else to get over them, so I asked out that girl in my art history class."

"The one with the nose ring?"

"That's the one, yeah. We went for coffee this morning."

"How was it?" Tony asks, and more guilt accompanies the fact that he's actively and selfishly hoping Steve is about to say that it was awful.

Steve shrugs, "It was fine, technically. But then she tried to kiss me, and I sort of freaked out and ruined it. She looked at me like I was insane, and, god, it was so embarrassing, but I just couldn't do it when I know that I don't actually want anything like that from her. I didn't want to lead her on. It's not fair to her."

"Not fair to you either," Tony says softly. "You shouldn't force yourself to like someone you don't. And whoever the other person is, the one that doesn't want you back, they're missing out on someone really amazing, and they're stupid to let you go."

Steve smiles, but it's tinged with sadness as he turns his head to look at Tony. "I don't know about that. They can do better than me."

"Hey, no, don't say that. You're incredible. You're funny and smart and gorgeous, and I've never met anyone as kind as you in my entire life. There isn't anyone better than you, okay? And if they don't see that, then fuck them. Clearly, they're dumb as hell anyway," Tony rants, getting progressively louder as he goes and his free hand gesturing wildly.

"They're kind of a genius, actually."

Tony rolls his eyes, "Yeah, sure they are. Way to miss the point."

Steve's smile turns amused. "No, but they really are."

"What is this?" Tony asks with narrow eyes. "Are you trying to make me jealous by saying you know other geniuses? Cause I'm the only know-it-all in your life. I claimed the spot. It's mine."

"Definitely yours," Steve agrees, and he shifts a little to turn on his side. With his left hand, he tentatively reaches up towards Tony's face, and Tony's breath catches at the brush of fingertips against his cheek. "I think I might have been wrong, though, about how they feel about me."

It takes a few seconds for it to click in Tony's, but even when it does he doesn't believe it just yet.

"Why's that?"

"Apparently they think I'm incredible, and they get really angry when anybody else thinks otherwise."

Tony smiles softly, "Yeah, they really don't like that."

Steve's thumb strokes across his cheekbone, then his fingers drift back to run through his hair.

"They think I'm funny, too, but they've also got a terrible sense of humor, so I don't know how accurate that is."

Tony laughs, then says, "You know what I think?"

"What's that?"

"I think you should kiss them. Just go for it and see what happens."

Steve smiles, slowly leaning down, "You really think so? It could make things weird. We might not be able to be friends anymore."

Tony puts his hand on the nape of Steve's neck, drawing him further in until he's a scant inch away. "Trust me, they don't really want to be just a friend, anyway."

He finds out that Steve's skin is smooth and warm beneath his palms, and his lips are unexpectedly soft. His hands are constantly in motion, slowly mapping out Tony's hips and sides and back like he's memorizing the feeling. As if it's his one chance to learn what Tony feels like he won't let it get away from him. But it won't be the only one. There will be second, third, and hundredth kisses, because Tony knows better than to let someone like Steve slip away.

"Hey, Tony?" Steve whispers after.

"Yeah?"

"What's the best thing about Switzerland?"

Tony smiles, "What?"

"I don't know, but the flag is a big plus."

They stare at each other, and Steve is the first to crack, but his laugh makes Tony follow right behind him.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #my writing #my fic #prompts #prompt fill

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milkybonya · 3 years ago

Text

Butterfly

order 015, anon: large banana milk tea with lychee jelly and pudding for Asahi

Warnings: some angst (injuries, crying mentions) and food mentions

Summary: a coffee shop! enemies to lovers! soulmate!au all in one where Asahi, an expert barista and newbie!y/n's supervisor is easily angered by small mistakes, but ends up falling for his new employee as they begin to hone their craft, and even more so when he discovers the butterfly birthmark at the nape of their neck which matches his own.

*disclaimer! i'm not a barista but am writing using the minimal experience i have acquired after working in a place that makes coffee but isn't as artsy as a coffee shop,, so please forgive any inaccuracies!

[a/n] Alex if u see this LOOK IT'S A COFFEE SHOP AU HHH

After being lucky enough to get hired on the spot at your city's most famous coffee shop, you walk in on your first day, excited to make coffee and serve customers. The day does not greet you well, though, as your already nervous state is worsened when your supervisor and coworker, a dashing young man with black hair parted around his face, gives you a hard time.

Asahi is extremely cold and quiet, only yelling when he speaks to tell the employees to do their job right. He yells at you twice: once for forgetting to clean the steamed milk frother, and another time for when you serve the customers coffee that isn't fresh.

It leaves you feeling jittery to a point where you continue to make mistakes.

"[y/n], finish that order and meet me in the back," Asahi tells you, his voice completely emotionless.

Once you join him in the back, you find him sweeping, his hair falling in his eyes and prickling his nose. As soon as he notices you're there, he puts the broom away, pushing the hair out of his eyes before he turns to face you.

"[y/n], I realize that it's your first day, but you're doing an absolutely terrible job," he says.

"Our work here is more fast paced than you think, and if you can't handle it and keep getting nervous and slipping up, then I don't think we can keep you here."

Your bottom lip begins to tremble hearing the harsh criticism on what is only your first day, but luckily, a coworker who overheard everything steps in.

"Hey, Asahi! Big boss man, calm down. It's only their first day... stop being so hard on them," your coworker says, placing an arm around you.

When you look to see who it was, you discover that it's Junkyu, your bright and happy coworker who always does his job with a smile. Even just seeing him makes you smile, and he smiles back at you, patting your head.

"[y/n] is doing just great, so you can shut up!" Junkyu huffs, dragging you out and back onto the floor.

You may wonder why Junkyu was being so rude to his boss, but Asahi and Junkyu are actually close friends, so it's okay for them to get mad at each other like this.

"Don't listen to Asahi. He's like an old man sometimes," Junkyu says.

"And it's okay to get nervous! I was spilling so many things everywhere on my first day. Just take your time..." Junkyu explains, showing you how to do all the things that you messed up on before.

Asahi watches from the other side of the shop, feeling angry at the sight of Junkyu being so close to you, for some reason. He also thinks... he sees something on the back of your neck that matches his own birthmark, but he shrugs it off, telling himself he's just seeing things.

With the worst luck, you continue making mistakes every time Asahi shows up, and he scolds you for it in front of your coworkers and the customers each time. Sometimes, you have to rush to the break room to catch your breath and even cry it out, stare yourself down in the mirror and tell yourself that you're doing a great job.

"You're doing great, [y/n]! Don't worry about Asahi... you're doing great," you say.

Asahi, who is in the back of the shop in search of coffee grinds, overhears your pep talk and smiles to himself, immediately frowning as soon as you step out of the break room and face him, though.

"What are you doing? Get back out there!" he says.

You leave quickly and don't notice Asahi smiling at the way you waddle towards the front.

Despite being nervous at the beginning, your barista skills improve rapidly. You're able to master latte art after only a week and a half, creating pretty designs that are different for each customer. Your designs gain popularity and the shop grows busier with people waiting for you to hand them a pretty latte that you've designed.

Asahi still doesn't seem to want to give you praise of any sort, though, as he constantly points out your mistakes.

"It looks good, but does it taste good? You clearly went too heavy on the milk."

Even his your coworkers grow tired of Asahi, and everyone starts calling him angry bird Asahi behind his back with the way his eyebrows are pointed in a frown each time he comes to scold you.

For you, though, it doesn't matter anymore. You've found something you love and are improving in it rapidly, so Asahi's bitter attitude can't harm you anymore.

One short-staffed day, you're alone, closing the shop alongside Asahi. The two of you clean up in silence, save for Asahi's hushed hums as he sweeps.

Not noticing a paper bag on the ground, you trip on it and fall on your knees and hands.

Your yelp leaves Asahi rushing over, even though you thought he would just ignore your pain.

"[y/n], what happened?! Are you okay?" he asks, leaning down.

He pauses midway, staring at the back of your exposed neck. His fingers reach out in disbelief to touch what he sees, but he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable and stops himself.

A butterfly birthmark, just like the one on the back of his own neck. A shared butterfly birthmark in the same location: a sign of soulmates.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. I just tripped.

"Y-you're not bleeding or anything, right?" Asahi asks, suddenly breathless.

"Nope, all good!" you say, standing up and feeling confused at Asahi's flustered state.

"Are you okay? Why do you seem so panicked?" you ask.

"I'm... I was just worried that's all," he quickly says, returning to where he was sweeping.

He really found his soulmate despite not believing in the butterfly soulmate thing anyway....

Asahi is really weird around you for the next week, not scolding you anymore but just being super quiet and seemingly cautious around you. Everyone is confused as to what happened to angry bird Asahi, and feeling a little worried yourself, you approach him in his office on your break one day.

"Is everything okay, Asahi?"

"Hm? Yeah... why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know... you just seem more quiet than usual."

Asahi stares at the ground, wondering if he should tell you about your shared birthmarks.

Ah heck, let's just go for it, he thinks to himself.

He swivels around in his hair, turning his back to you and holding up his hair at the back of his head.

"Does this look familiar to you?" he asks, pointing to the birthmark at the nape of his neck.

You gasp, feeling the back of your own neck.

The birthmark looks exactly the same...

"Wha-?"

"I don't know what to do. Because frankly, I don't believe in any of this soulmate crap, but we're really soulmates..." Asahi says.

Your eyes, on the other hand, are sparkling. You've believed in soulmates since the beginning and always wondered who would have the same birthmark as you. It's weird to think that angry bird Asahi is your soulmate, but you don't want to lose this chance.

"What else do we do but go on a date!" you say, hugging his arm out of excitement.

Asahi glares at you and you pull away, clearing your throat.

"Friday after work! Wait for me and we'll go somewhere," you say, excitedly leaving Asahi's office.

He places a hand on his heart, feeling it beat a little faster than usual.

Friday, you notice Asahi's hair is looking a little different - all straightened, neat and tidy. Asahi also doesn't fail to notice that you're looking a little fancier than your usual self. Even Junkyu bothers you about it, asking why you look really prim and proper today.

When Asahi's shift ends, he has an hour to kill until yours does, so he spends that time in his office at the back, watching you make pretty drinks with you latte art through the security cameras. He has a full view of your butterfly birthmark and suddenly wonders what it would be like if he was able to kiss it.

Finally as soon as your shift ends, you rush out, forgetting to say goodbye to everyone unlike you usually do, but also forgetting to punch out. Asahi reminds you to do that as soon as you step into his office. The way he smiles when you swing open the door, his teeth peeking out while his eyes hide away, makes you feel like he's happy to see you... though he's just giggling at your mistake.

Once you're punched out and ready to leave, you step out of there and take the bus to an art gallery that you've always wanted to explore. You notice Asahi staring down into your lap as you ride the bus, shyly looking at your hands, fidgeting his own and then looking away. You become the brave one for the both of you and take his hand in yours, smiling at the window when he looks at you.

You take your time looking at the artwork, both of you quietly walking while holding hands. You only talk to ask each other if you're ready to move on to the next piece.

After some time, though, Asahi speaks up and asks you if he can take a photo of you standing in front of a butterfly painting.

"Just keep looking at it and I'll take a photo from the back."

Once he stands behind you, you feel awkward and stiff in front of the camera, and it probably shows, as Asahi asks you to relax.

"Just be like you usually would!"

You try your best and Asahi eventually takes the photo.

"Can I see?" you ask him.

"Later," he says, smiling down at his phone.

On the floor below the gallery, there's a place to grab food and the two of you do just that, gushing about how cool the art in the gallery was and what your favourite pieces were. Asahi tries to imitate this robot statue you saw made of metal, and it makes you laugh so hard that you almost get kicked out.

"Asahi, I never thought you would be this fun," you say.

"Well, at work I do have to be somewhat professional," he says, smiling at you.

"At work you're just a jerk," you mumble, thinking Asahi can't hear you, even though he does.

He decides to stop being so hard on you at work, and actually follows through. Work becomes more enjoyable without angry bird Asahi and with all of the dates you go one with Asahi after work. Eventually, the two of you start to officially date, and Junkyu is shocked to his core.

"H-how did this happen...? And why did no one tell me!" he screeches when he finds out.

Asahi presses his lips to the back of your neck in the dark of the room, his lips curving into a smile when he hears your giggle.

"What are you doing, Sahi?"

"Something I've always wanted to do," he says, burying his face into your chest.

It's his turn to giggle as you run your fingers through his hair, tracing his butterfly birthmark with your finger.

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un2-verse · 4 years ago

Text

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (2)

pairing: taehyung x f reader

genre: horror au, yandere au, saw/john kramer au

synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughs, abusive relationships, stalking etc. dont read if triggered. there are some ?? fucked up things in this but idk what to word them. but also mentions of self harm/self hating thoughts.

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: unedited so pls forgive me for any mistakes and lmk if u want to be added to a taglist^^

series masterlist

part one part three

You’d spent a couple of hours in the café with Taehyung. Jimin popped over every now and then to talk with his best friend and to make sure you had everything you needed while there.

When you left, Jimin wrapped his arms around you as he bid his farewell, “It was lovely to meet you Y/N! Please, don’t be a stranger!” You simply nodded your head as you pulled away from the hug. You grinned back at him as he moved to Taehyung. You opened the door, carefully stepping outside to leave the boys with some privacy.

Once the door shut Jimin’s smile beamed, “so she’s the girl you’re always talking about, Flower? Right?”

“Yeah she is, thanks for that though man but, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later?”

Taehyung smiled as he made his way towards you, you looked up and he swore, he saw a hint of nervousness in your eyes, probably because it’s dark, he thought to himself. “Come on then, let’s get you home.” He held out his hand, you were quick to grab a hold of it. Taehyung intertwined your fingers as he tugged you back across the road, “it’ll take about twenty minutes, you gonna be alright to walk?” he glanced down to you.

Your heart warmed at the way his eyes smiled with him, “I’ll be fine, thank you.” He seemed happy enough with your answer as you fell into a steady rhythm. You felt a little conflicted, you may not know Taehyung well but he had an energy about him that made you wanna spill every secret you knew, you’d shared pointless stories while you were at the café, having learnt Taehyung was a family oriented person, he loved art and he was passionate about little subjects other people would deem small. Yet he had a warmth that you’d not seen in anyone else.

Fuck it, you thought, he’s shown nothing but kindness, you may aswell open upto him… atleast.

“I was in an abusive relationship.” Taehyung felt himself smirk but quickly wiped it from his face, he arched an eyebrow as he looked down to you, “it was my first too. It left me, fucked up, in a way. Not that I wasn’t already fucked up.” Progress. He squeezed your hand in reassurance, go on… “I’ve always been insecure and uh, uncomfortable with the way I look. After that disaster of a relationship, it left me worse for wear.” you kept your eyes on the road, you didn’t want to see the judgement on his face yet it didn’t stop you from carrying on, “I never told my friends or family about it. None of them knew I was struggling before it anyway so I’ve been letting it tear me apart.”

“Why tell me then doll?”

You risked a glance at his face. There were no traces of judgement or pity. Swallowing down your nerves, you added softly, “I had to tell someone. Even if that someone is a random person— who showed me kindness when I needed it.”

Taehyung felt his heart clench, she’s already trusting me… this was easier than I thought. “Don’t feel like you need to tell me anything baby,” I already know it all.

You felt your cheeks burn from the pet name, how could something so simple, affect you this much? God, talk about a schoolgirl crush. “That’s the thing, I don’t feel like I need to. I just, I want to.”

Taehyung presented you with his boxy grin, “Then you can tell me anything you want, whether it's big or small.”

“Thank you Taehyung.” It was like the sun had shone down on you, the simplest gesture meant the world. Here you had a person willing to talk to you about your darkest secrets. A person willing to listen. Someone who had no ties to your family, which made it easier for the words to flow from you, “It’s like, I was this happy, care-free kid. I smiled without forcing it and when I laughed… I felt free. I didn’t feel like I was losing my breath. Not like I do now, everytime I do so much as breathe, it's like these roots have twisted around my lungs and everytime a breath escapes, they crush them tighter. It’s like a reminder. You’re never fully alive. You’re never fully happy. Pain overrides any other emotion. I’ve learned that, after all those years. I used to think, I’d never accept it.” A solemn silence fell over you. The roots squeezed your lungs even tighter as you whispered, “I’m scared of living.”

“Flower, some people are anchored to this world by their feet, others by their fears. You don’t have to voice it, I know you’re scared. You have your fears. Your demons. The thing you were doing at the cafe; is destructive. Anything that harms you, is destructive. Fuck, it may only be something as simple as picking your skin but that can lead into bigger things.”

It already has.

“Taehyung, I know that. I knew when it started but it helps, it lessens my anxiety. You’re the only one to have picked up on it. My friends… they don’t notice. If they do, they don’t mention it.”

Taehyung scoffed, “You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?”

Your mouth was sewn shut. You didn’t want to admit it but, there was some truth to his words.

You walked home in silence.

That night haunted you. It forced its way into your dreams. It clouded your thoughts when Yoongi and Hoseok were with you. When you’d spent time together, you were vacant. A soulless body. It was like a poison had found its way into your brain, second guessing relationships and people’s motives.

‘You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?’

Why were you letting it get in your head so much? You knew your friends. They were the only ones you felt safe with. They were your friends for a reason, they supported you (albeit sometimes they had a sense of… tough love) but they always had your back.

You didn’t mention Taehyung to Yoongi or Hoseok. You felt as though that was something that should be kept between you and him. Plus, the duo would’ve felt betrayed and upset by the fact you had wandered into foreign territory alone and found company in a complete stranger-- especially after they’d warned you about the whole Jigsaw shit.

To save the arguments, you went about your life as usual. You helped out your Mum with the flower shop, the array of flowers made you realise how the simplest things were beautiful. That of course, didn’t include yourself. Rancid thoughts clouded what was once, a tranquil space. Those god forsaken roots hadn’t lessened. Breathing was still difficult— as was pretending that you were absolutely fine.

You avoided mirrors, a quick glance could wreck your entire mood. You hated people taking photos of you, it made you scrutinise every single thing.

My nose is too big.

My chin is too round.

My face just shouts ugly.

My legs are disgusting.

My stomach is embarrassing.

My boobs are weird.

Not to say, you didn’t have these thoughts on the regular. However, the more you eluded your appearance, the voices lessened. You could ignore the way you looked, forget it completely. Often convinced yourself you were a plain person. The stereotypical norm: someone that no one would look twice at. It helped you get on with everyday tasks, it helped you ease the anxiety.

After all, every flower must grow through dirt.

But how would you react? If you knew, he had all the pictures of you?

Tuesdays you worked at your Dad’s garage. You didn’t know much about cars but you enjoyed his company. As well as spending time with Hobi and Yoongi. You often found yourself pranking the former with Yoongi, little jokes that luckily, didn’t piss Hobi off too much.

Today though, you were late. You’d had to spend more time trying to find the more appropriate clothing… you didn’t want people to see the slashed lines of red that littered your body.

After you messily threw an outfit together, you made your way down to the garage. You found your eyes trained on the silver Nissan Skyline, mouth agape as you collided into something.

You felt hands grab your shoulders, “Watch where you’re going,” Yoongi brought his hands to ruffle your hair, “gotta be careful while we’ve got that here kidda. That fuckers expensive.” He released a chuckle as you rolled your eyes, softly elbowing him out the way.

Your dad was under the bonnet, a box of tools were scattered around his feet. Organised mess, your Dad was infamous for it.

“Sorry I’m late Pops, what do you want me to do?”

Not even a second later, your Dad turned to face you, “Ah darling, not a lot while we’re working on this. Can you go make us some drinks?”

“Yeah course, I won’t be too long!”

You passed Hoseok on your way to the little kitchen situated at the back, he sent you a wink as he shouted across, “Coffee for me kidda!”

Three cups were spread in front of you. Americano for Yoongi, Coffee for Hobi and Cappuchino for Pops. Just as you were about to shout the guys, a presence had situated itself comfortably behind you. Before you had time to turn around, a deep baritone voice addressed you, “You not gonna ask me if I want a cup baby?”

You felt yourself still. You knew that voice. The voice that was haunting your dreams, even your wake.

You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?

Taehyung watched the way your body tensed, your shoulders stiffened, your breathing altered. Hm, she’s nervous. How cute.

“What are you doing here?” the words passed your lips, delivered as though they were encased in thorns.

A deep chuckle filled the room, “What do you think I’m doing here?” Taehyung inched closer, the atmosphere was almost palpable. You felt the way his chest brushed against your back, a sudden chill shot through you as he brought his hand up— which grazed against your skin whilst he moved your hair from your neck. His eyes turned hungry at the sight of your goosebumps. Your heart raced when he brought his head lower, lips next to your ear, “You think I’m here for you baby?” I am… but you don’t need to know that just yet.

You spun around, squashed between the table and Taehyung. Heat radiated off of him, how can he be so hot? It felt like you were in a furnace (while face to face with the Devil.)

Fear stricken, you tried to fight through it. Don’t show him. Don’t let him see. With a sarcastic smile plastered on your face you retorted, “Of course you are Taehyung. You tracked me down using the information I gave you and figured out which Garage is ours.”

The sarcasm was practically dripping from your tone like venom. Taehyung felt himself stifle a laugh.

You just didn’t know. In all fairness, you didn’t know anything. How would you know that Taehyung had done exactly that, except he’d done it months prior.

He lowered his head to yours, your hands raised to push him away but Taehyung wrapped his fingers around each wrist and tugged them to lay between you before you even had the chance to nudge him. You felt like you were stuck in a Venus fly trap.

“I’m not some type of sicko, doll.”

You were just a naive, misunderstood, little girl.

“I’m getting my car fixed. Your dad’s working on it right now.”

Your body visibly relaxed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Oh, the Skyline? Wait, you have a car and made us walk back to mine the other week?”

“I didn’t make you walk for the fun of it baby, my car is literally in the shop so obviously it was broken.”

Only, the car was perfectly fine when you met him those weeks ago. He had made the pair of you walk so he’d have more of a chance to speak to you and to touch you. The only way he could follow you around without being suspicious, especially at your dads work, was to have a somewhat reasonable excuse (which resulted in him messing with the engine). He knew although you’d shied away from him that night, he could easily win you back around.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Taehyung. I’m also uh, sorry about how that night ended.”

“Don’t sweat it, I know what I said came off a little... weird but I didn’t mean any harm.”

With an angelic smile on your face in return, Taehyung knew that soon, that smile would morph into a grateful one. After all, he was going to help you.

Until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Live or Die.

Your choice.

He had first seen you out and about last year. However, he had first heard of you when the guys working for him had slammed a file onto his desk, Subject #13 was scrawled on the top. Filled to the brim with pictures of you and everything about your life down to the littlest detail.

L/N Y/N— D.O.B 03.11.02— 19 years old.

Phone number: XXXXX.XXXXX

Female. Lives with parents at: 171 Norm Street, Falfield F91 7DW. Was outcasted at school but befriended a Jeon Jeongguk [19 years, male. 92 Carriers Road, Cressage CY5 3EA. XXXXX.XXXXX].

Ex partner is Kang Jaehyo. [23 years. Male. Abusive and manipulative, laid his hands on Y/N multiple times leaving bruises and scars. Sexual abuse was also discovered. Have been broken up for 4 months. 13 Walkers Drive, Falfield, F73 1DL XXXXX.XXXXX]

Y/N has suicidal ideations (as well as 7 attempts). Self harms by “cutting” “punching” and “scratching”. Diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety Disorder on May 13th 2016. Works at Toret Garage and Letty’s Floral. Both places owned by parents.

The web of lies and deceit had barely scraped the surface.

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serenityseventeen · 3 years ago

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♪ The Last Day of Summer With You

Jun/Wen Junhui/Moon Junhui : Painting...?

“Are you sure about this?” You asked skeptically while staring at your boyfriend who was preoccupied with setting up the stand for the blank canvas.

Jun nodded and placed the canvas on the stand. He clapped his hands together after he was done and turned halfway to you who was on his right and watched him set up the whole thing. He innocently smiled but you shook your head.

“I don't think that painting together on one beautifully blank canvas is a very good idea,” You said, crossing your arms with conviction. “If my memory is correct, the last time we tried an artistic project, it ended up with us filling out bedroom walls with sketches of cats.”

Jun giggled at that remark because he could recall that moment. Everything about that warm spring day was chaotic and it all started when Jun decided to take Mingyu's suggestion of drawing with a significant other as a romantic activity.

That day was surely romantic to Jun because it was a memory he could never forget. You laughed so much that day despite continuously uttering about how foolishly childish you and he were, drawing cats on the walls and sketching stickmen in your notebooks while acting like troublesome kids. He could tell that that day was memorable for you too. If he could get you to smile like that, he would look everywhere for a fun activity to do.

Thus, that was why Jun was always looking for new things to try with you and he would take in many of his member's suggestions. Jun enjoyed having fun, being romantic, and being with you, so everything that his friends deemed ‘romantic’ he would try them out for himself.

Just like how that chaotically beautiful drawing day started, this one also started with a member's suggestion. This time, he took in the artiste, Minghao's recommendation of painting, and bought some art supplies for it.

Since today was a day to finish the hot, summer weather, Jun had decided that you two should attempt to keep the memory of a summertime sunset written on a canvas.

Jun let out a long breath and took your hand, setting you down in front of the canvas. Jun had already prepared a palette and brushes that were kept in a small cup, their fluffy ends sticking up.

“Come on, doing things like this once in a while is fun!” Jun said, handing you a palette. “I'll take the left half of the canvas, you can have the right side. Let's see what we can come up with to describe summer, okay?”

You chuckled, knowing that the painting was going to end up adequately attractive even if it looked peculiar. You glanced at Jun while holding the palette. He was skipping through the bottles of paint to get a brush while holding a plastic palette in one of his hands. You helplessly grinned as you gazed at Jun.

The assorted and iridescent paint bottles that were lined up on the floor were neatly ultimately scattered with a gentle brush of Jun's foot as he made his way back to the stool next to you. He came back with not one brush, but the whole mug that held the brushes.

“Let's get started, shall we?” Jun asked, smiling as he set down the paintbrushes.

You watched as he squeezed paint onto his palettes and gently dabbed his chosen brush into the paint. He painted a slanted line down the middle of the canvas, causing you to laugh at how imperfect but cute it looked.

“I guess I have more space at the bottom of the canvas than you do,” You commented, bringing some orange paint onto your palette.

Jun laughed softly. “I won't even try to fix this crooked line.”

There was complete silence in the house as you and Jun started focusing on the painting. The activity was messier than both of you thought it'd be. Jun had forgotten to buy painting aprons to avoid getting paint on your clothes too, but thankfully, the two of you changed into clothes that weren't special.

It was strange to see him so focused on the painting.

Jun found it strange that you were working so hard on your side of the painting. Sometimes, he would glance at his side to catch the beauty of a concentrated you.

When you saw him looking at the corner of your eye, you would turn to him and you both would stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds before you either smiled, winked, scrunched your nose, or asked, “What?”

Jun couldn't catch when you would gaze at him though, even if your eyes were shooting out hearts, he would be too distracted by his painting that he wouldn't even notice. You found it rather cute, and, you got to gaze at his dangerously attractive side profile.

“Can you pass me the blue paint?” You asked.

Jun looked around his stool to realize that he had been hoarding all of the paints around and under his stool. His hands were a rainbow mess and his painting, well, you could just tell that he was trying hard because it looked pretty with bright and dark colors.

“Oh, sorry,” Jun replied. He got off his chair a little to reach for the blue bottle of paint, his messy hands staining the side of the bottle.

You didn't mind that the bottle was tainted because your hands too, were decorated with a variety of smudged colors. You didn't even know how some paint got on the smooth, tiled floor, though it wasn't unexpected.

As Jun took the bottle and handed it to you, his clumsiness took the best of him and he accidentally, while retreating his hand, swept the back of his painted hand against your side of the canvas. He was moving a beat too fast which caused the sudden collision.

You both froze because you saw the entire thing happen and Jun quickly realized what he had done. The canvas was a bit smudged with brown, destroying the aesthetic of the painting.

Jun looked at you, expecting death glares, but was met with a warm smile. You were laughing, amused by your boyfriend's small mistake. It must have been ridiculous to see you laughing like that because Jun couldn't hold his laughter either. Whenever you laughed, he would habitually mimick your actions even if he didn't know what was so funny.

“Why are you laughing? Aren't you upset?” Jun asked, confused by your rather bright and friendly expression. Your laughter was contagious and Jun was still frozen in place.

“Of course not!” You finally replied. You placed your brush and palette down on the floor, grinning widely out of unexplainable ecstasy. “Mistakes like that are what makes paintings like these so special!”

You cupped his face with your paint-covered hands, leaving polychromatic marks on his cheeks, and leaned in to press a long, sweet kiss on his lips. You didn't know why, but it felt like you were waiting for something like this to happen.

Jun was a bit taken aback by the sudden kiss but he quickly absorbed himself into his. His hand would have completely pushed the painting and stand down but he somehow controlled that, leaving a messy print of his hand on your side of the art piece.

His paint-filled hands left marks on your clothes as they climbed up your waist to hold you tightly.

“You're such a fool,” You commented, your thumb caressing his cheeks that were now smeared with paint from your hands. “Why do you always take in your member's ideas?”

Jun moved back a little to look into your beautiful eyes that were now reflecting the sunshine from the large living room window. “I think I'm too boring. I want you to have fun with me.”

“Thank you,” You replied. “I'll try to be a better lover and give you surprise activities that are fun like this too. It's just that you're so foolish; you don't need to ask your members for fun activities to do. I like everything you do, even if you're just playing piano, singing, practicing a funny skit, or playing games on the computer. It's all fun to me.”

“It's okay,” Jun said, knocking on the side of your head playfully. “I want us to do a variety of things together because it's fun and memorable. I don't care whether or not we do these things as long as we do something, even if it's just staying at home. I wouldn't do things like this if I didn't have you.”

You both let go of each other with a smile. You stared at Jun's hand engraved on your painting. Jun noticed it too and was about to apologize but before he could, you quickly submerged your palm in your colorful painting palette.

You smile lovingly at him before pressing your hand against his side of the painting.

-----------------

a/n: this one was almost 1.5k words and yes, I know, the picture has barely any relevance to the story overall. I tried very hard to find a newer photo of him with paint but had no luck; I just remember them playing with paint during Pretty U(?) or predebut. Anyway, I love Silent Boarding Gate with my whole heart so I used that photo instead. + What does summer look like to you?

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years ago

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5+1 - [Part 2]

5 times Iida was tickled and the one he wasn’t

[PART ONE]

Kanene’s note: What a helloooo! I am baack! Gosh, look at me! Having a posting schedule! Who would say, huh? xDD Well, I hope you like this >u<

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic with family tickles, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of very greeat arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Iida with Ler!Aizawa and Nemuri sprinkling some tease here and there. All relationships are platonic. Around 1.500 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Look at the window and find something that is worth smiling for. Don’t forget to drink water, sleep and eat! <33

[~*~]

“Iida Tenya.”

“Ooooh noo,” Nemuri added from the spot on the floor where she sat, pampering and spoiling Shouta’s cats with plenty of snacks, a sharp grin gleaming at the boy who came running from the kitchen and now looked from a side to another with a panicked expression on his face, fast to move his arms in an ‘abort mission’ sign to the woman. “Looks like someone is in trouble! ~”

“Nemuri-san, please I ask for you to control your voice!!” Tenya whispered in a volume that most people would categorize as a shout, especially with Shouta’s hero trained hearing. Nemuri, though, just expanded her wicked grin as the nine old boy didn’t realize the dark figure arriving right behind him. “He can’t know I am here!”

“Aw, my dear,” she pouted in fake empathy at Iida’s inevitable fate, scratching Pudding under her chin, her loud motor like purring echoing in the silence. “But Shouta already knows.” Iida stilled as a statue when a shadow loomed over him, starting to turn around, slowly. “He always knows.”

“Gotcha.”

His quirk activated a second before Aizawa erased it with his own, making the blue haired one stumble on his own legs, almost falling on the ground if it wasn’t for the arms that grabbed him in a firm hug, fingers worming their way to his armpits, prodding and digging on the awfully ticklish flesh there.

“What,” Shouta started, with a tune that tipped on bored, his plain face contrasting to the smaller’s puffed cheeks as he wiggled and shook with the contained giggles. “Did I say about my orange flavored jelly packs, huh?”

“Aww, is the itsy bitsy Tenya ticklish? Can’t he take all the tickly-tickly-tickly tickles his favorite grumpy uncle gives to him? Huh? Aww, my poor ticklish boy.” Nemuri teased, ignoring the glare her friend sent on her direction in favor to stare at Tenya, who went redder at her words, a couple of squeaky snorts escaping from his lips.

“I will remind you what I said about eating my jellies without permission: don’t. Never. Do not look. Do not touch and especially, do not even think about eating it.” Aizawa highlighted the last phrase by blowing a raspberry right behind Iida’s neck, leading the boy to squeal, uncontrolled laughter following it almost immediately. The taller man did his best to keep a serious face, principally as the arms of his ‘victim’ rocked up and down, from the left to the right and in random patterns without even being able to get themselves enough control to attempt to stop him. “And you did, so now you will face the consequences. It’s only logical.”

“A-Aizahahazawa-san I, I cahahahAAH!” Shout cut the other’s protest by throwing him in the air, resting his hands on his sides when he caught him again, slightly clawing his stomach with his fingers, fishing uncontrollable, bubbly giggles from him. “Please, please! I can-'' Snort. “I can ehehexplain!” Yelp. Half words, Half pleas. Giggles. Giggles. Giggles. “I hahahave the right, Aizawa-sahahahan!”

Shouta contented himself in making the younger squirm – left, right, left, left, right and repeat – from a side to another by tapping his fingers on his sides repeatedly, sometimes giving a quick scratch only to gain another yelp, pretending to think about the proposal for a little less than a minute.

“No.” He decided, spidering his fingers merciless on the death spot. Iida threw his head back, crackles flying from him in a waterfall of shrieks and squeaks.

“Come one, Shou! Let the boy speak! As much I love this lovely, absolutely adorable laughter that makes you want to tickle and tickle him forever and ever, and aww, wouldn’t you love it, my dear? To get all the tiggles-tickles you could ever want for all eternity?” Iida kicked and shook his head in protest, more pleas falling from him, face and neck in flames. “I think he has the right to defend himself.”

“Which side are you?”

“No side deserves my awesome presence.” Aizawa rolled his eyes. “What is the matter, Shou? Afraid that you will lose in a logical battle with baby Tenya?”

“Ihihihi am NOT ahahaha baby!!” Iida protested through his hysterical laughter, nothing giving him more strength than correct factually incorrect statements. “I ahahahaham a very hehehealthy chihihihih- – No! Not there! – chihihihild! Mom said so!”

Nemuri hid her snickers behind her hands, receiving a very unamused yowl from Pudding, the cat demanding her to come back to her ear scritches immediately. The woman resumed to her wishes.

Shouta recognized a bait when he heard one, but watching the way tears started to appear in the corner of the younger’s eyes, he decided to bite it.

He adjusted him so the boy would be resting on his hips, his hand resting calmly on his ribs, a much less ticklish spot.

“You have fifty seconds.”

“WHAT!” Iida stared at him in disbelief, turning to look at Kayama in the search of reinforcements, and being gifted with nothing more than a joyful shrug, his brother’s best friend being very glad in just watch the chaos unraveling in front of her and, unnoticed by the other two who were caught up on the silliness, the camera carefully hidden behind Pudding’s fluffy form. “That ihihisn’t even a minute! It’s impossiblehe to mahahake a good defehense under this condici- conditionaries… undeheher that pressure!”

“Conditions.” Aizawa offered, “and heroes work under pressure. You want to be one when you grow up, right?”

“Yes!” Iida’s smile got even bigger than it already was, his eyes also becoming even brighter, shining with the determination of his new challenge.

“Good,” the tired adult smirked, starting to count with his fingers as the seconds went by. “Start to talk then.”

Tenya tried to clear his mind, together with keeping his resolve strong enough to not visibly squirm or titter every time Aizawa made any infinitesimal move. He never thought he would really be able to convince his uncle to let him make a true attempt to escape from this, therefore he didn’t possess any good enough reason to explain besides the ‘it was orange flavored and oranges are delicious!’

A sentence pulled him out of the frenzy of thoughts dashing on his brain at full speed. “You have twelve seconds now.”

“WHAT!” Tenya cried, seriously thinking about just pushing Shouta’s arms away and trying to run to the safety of the guest room.

“You seem to have a problem keeping track of the time.” The small kid nodded at his direction and Aizawa almost felt bad by his next move.

Almost.

“Let me help you, then.”

The underground hero poked an index finger on the lowest rib, vibrating on the sensitive spot for a few pieces of second, tearing a sputtering guffaw as Iida realized the true meaning of his words. “One.” He pressed another rib, and another, and another. “Two. Three. Four…”

“Noho! Wait! Wait!!”

“Five… Six. Seven…”

“Oops. It looks like you’re running out of time, sweetheart.” Nemuri added, unhelpfully. “Well, let’s just hope the mean Shouta won’t attack those awfully ticklish knees of yours when the time is over, right?”

“NOHOT MY KNEHES!”

“Good luck. Ten. Eleven. Twel-”

“YOULIED!”

Aizawa stopped.

“What?” He blinked one, two, three times. As if the meaning of the rushed words would become clearer. “No. I hid it and I was very clear in saying you couldn’t touch it. There is no lie here.”

“There is! A lie of omiz-” Iida closed his eyes, concentrating on the word and controlling the few giggles that still slipped from his mouth. He wanted to be a hero and heroes succeed through the pressure! “omission! Which means hiding! You hid the information so you were lying to me, so I… I… I taught you a lesson!”

They stared at each other for what seemed a lifetime.

Aizawa huffed a chuckle, lowering the boy to the ground, trying to not be blinded by the excitement and proudness exhaling from the younger when he realized that he succeeded in “logicing” his way out of the playful “punishment”, beaming on the ball of his feet at both adults.

“Good. In a fight, using your opponents’ words against them can be an important tool. Also, as a physical opening, don’t forget that I was carrying you, which means that if you hit the back of my knees hard enough I would weaken my grip and that would give you the opportunity to run. I would try to not hurt you when I fell, so that is also a weakness you could exploit.” After a thought, he added. “Try to do that the next time Hizashi tickles you.”

“You are a bastard.” Kayama replied, earning an exasperated gasp from Tenya. “Not you, dear. I am talking about Shouta.” That did nothing to alleviate the boy’s rebellion, his lecture of how ‘This isn’t the proper vocabulary of a hero’ was soon interrupted as the apartment door flew open, Ingenium walking through it. He immediately extended his arms, hugging his brother when the aforementioned jumped on him, part of the exhaustion of a day’s work being eased by the younger attics.

“Tensei! Tensei! I already did all my homework and I brushed my teeth and I played with the cats so they would not be sad or bored and I ate all my greenies and also-”

“-ate all my orange jelly packs.” Aizawa completed.

“And Aizawa-san tickled me because of it! Using very villainous techniques even though he is a very good and skilled hero! But then I won! I showed him logic and, and, and then he let me go!”

“Oof, that sounds like a very exciting day!” Tensei ruffled the boy’s hair, fondness dripping in waves from his acts and words. “But you don’t need to worry anymore about Shouta, the Grumpy Tickle Monster because now I am here!” Tensei posed in a poor representation of All Might's usual pose. “Ready to protect you!”

“Oh.” A dangerous tune marked Shouta’s grin and voice, making the blue haired hero to shiver with all the teenagerhood memories that this brought over. “Don’t get over yourself, assuming you’re out of danger, too.”

A wobbly smile took over Tensei's expression as Shouta cracked his knuckles, preparing himself for a chase. “Don’t think I don’t know exactly who told him where I hid my jelly packs.” The older Iida got his younger brother on his arms, flexing his legs, preparing to not give up so easily.

Aizawa decided he was feeling merciful today.

“You have three seconds.” Iida gasped in protest, an argument on the tip of his tongue. “Run.”

#Playful tickles #!#Aizawa the tickle monster is back/lh #xDD #Nemuri is there to tease and see some chaos #Lee!Iida #Ticklish!Iida #Ler!Aizawa #Bnha tickles #Bnha tickling #Kanene's fic #Kanene's Fanfic #5+1 fic #Kid!Tenya #Nemuri and Tensei make a quick appearence but techinically don't participate of the tickling part #I am with some mean headache and stuff so sdfghyujidfjh no rambling tags today

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biqherosix · 4 years ago

Note

hiiiiiiiiii do u write for the drgaon prince ??????????????????????? it’s totally not el spamming you again bc you deserve your ezran/callum x sister reader even if i’ll give it to you too

the secret life of katolis royalty - headcanons

prompt(s): the royal family uphold a proper, good reputation. but with you and your siblings, there are always bound to be a few secrets whether they're silly or not

pairing(s): familial! callum x fem! reader x ezran

fandom(s): the dragon prince

genre(s): fluff

warning(s): none (if there are, please feel free to point them out!)

other notes: hi el 🙄 anyway yes i write for dragon prince now because there is a lack of content in this fandom, especially for the royal siblings ! i want platonic goodness, and i'm getting it even if i have to make it myself. enjoy :) also reader may possibly be bi?? can be interpreted as whatever you'd like though !

- so you're three years older than callum, making you at least seven when ezran is born

- you're so protective, no doubt about it

- and callum doesn't mind because you're not overbearing (if anything callum is more protective of you and ezran than you are of your brothers)

- which is why callum never finds out about your little things with both soren and claudia (more like a kiss with claudia, dating soren, and then breaking up with soren to try shit out with claudia; spoiler alert you kinda miss soren as much as you love your magical perky girl)

- another reason is that cal has such a major crush on claudia before meeting rayla and you don't want him to feel bad upon finding out

- but let's be honest ezran finds out because he walked in on you making out with soren after exiting a secret tunnel

- ezran gossips with you more than you both like to admit because of this huge secret only the two of you now know

- but it brought you two closer and he's really happy about that because now he gets to cuddle into your side while he asks questions and spills the beans while you play with his hair lmao

- yk sometimes you even shit talk callum and his sword fighting and that definitely stays between the two of you (he always wonders why you two are giggling under the tree whenever he plays around with soren)

- but you love your brothers and they love you so !! freaking !! much !!

- y'all are attached to the hip, you can't be seen without one or the other

- most of the time it's your brothers doing your thing and brushing up your knowledge on royal etiquette because a part of you is anxious whenever your father talks about his royal wrongdoings

- he doesn't mean to worry you, he just wants you to be prepared (you were in fact, worried and unprepared when he died and you now had three mf children and a dragon egg to take care of)

- don't worry though because callum and ezran are here to save the day and will tell you how amazing you are for hours, it honestly passes the time very well

- okay but i gotta get this outta the way before i forget but callum is the epitome of the "you're doing amazing sweetie!" meme okay?? he is

- where he succeeds (magic, art, being awkward) you on the other hand lack and vice versa (you are badass okay? you can fight and spar properly thanks to your mother's extensive knowledge and even without a weapon you can pack a punch)

- rayla doesn't really understand how callum can be so happy and perky even when you suck at what you're doing

- but he's your baby brother and he loves hyping you up

- callum is your biggest hypeman and always has been it's a second nature to him, trust me if someone were to mention your name he'd never shut up !!

- like this one time you drew rayla and callum on a spare piece of paper callum gave you and it didn't really turn out the best but he still fake cried and attacked you in a hug

- he keeps it in his sketchbook and he's never letting that go, so rayla jokingly judges him for it and your boy ezran backs you up with callum

- "i don't see why you keep it, i mean it doesn't even look like us! we're like lil' stick figures" "art is contemporary, rayla. it can be anything you want it to be! isn't that right zym?" "ez is right, plus it doesn't look that bad! it's cute. look, she even drew me doing magic! her markings are so accurate" "callum, i don't even know what spell you're doing" "it's clearly aspiro! look at the wind" "they're lines!" "that's what art is all about!"

- baby gets so nervous when he and rayla kiss bc he obviously has to tell you and your opinion matters most to him; he's just scared bc rayla always teases you and you may not approve

- so he kept it a secret for a fat minute after telling ezran, ez is so annoyed bc he has to keep your soren secret and callum's??? at least bait and zym are there to listen (man relationships are hard)

- you just laugh because you saw it coming and the moment is just so wholesome !! you tackle rayla into a hug, welcoming her into the family with "bad drawings and all" bc she never lets you live it down fr fr

- but later that night callum can't sleep and he lets out everything because he never really told you about his crush in the first place like he feels really guilty because you're always so open with him and sometimes he has some walls up, like how he was with king harrow even if you're his biological sibling

- also you bet on your life that you would do anything to make sure callum was content with his life and so after his lil rant and your assurance he asks if you've ever felt that way before

- and you had to do it to em, so you tell him about soren and claudia

- "why didn't you tell me anything before?" "you liked claudia! i didn't want to be the reason for your heartache" "but you're my sister, you deserve to be happy. maybe you and soren can work out" "eh, we'll see. not gonna lie i was ready to go back for him after he almost killed that dragon. he looked pretty hurt but you looked way worse honestly" "hey! you're making my heart hurt here y/n." "that doesn't count because it was playful!"

- you end up going to sleep that night leaning on each other because that's what you've been doing all your life — leaning on each other and you don't want him to forget that !!!

- you also wake up the next morning with ezran in between you sleeping soundly, and rayla comes back to the three of you making funny faces and laughing like there was no tomorrow

- she didn't get it but the three of you did, it was a simple moment that you would all cherish even after ezran becomes king — perhaps it even makes you better as royals

- and from then on, there were no secrets, just a family trying to piece themselves together again after so much tragedy

#dragon prince #dragon prince imagine #tdp x reader #tdp imagine #the dragon prince #dragon prince x reader #prince callum #prince ezran #human rayla #tpd rayla #tdp callum #tdp ezran #tdp soren #tdp claudia #tdp harrow #soren x reader #callum x reader #daniza's fave characters are paying rent

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fangirl-everythang · 4 years ago

Text

You’re Not Leaving Me J.M

Summary: Y/n wants to leave Jason after he’s neglected her for gang duties. Long story short, she doesn’t.

Warnings: Aggression, swearing, mentions of gang activities, toxic relationship-ish.

Word Count: A bit less than 1500

Today was the day. I want to leave Jason. We've been together for almost three years now and I can't take it anymore. I love him with all of my heart but he's never home. I'm alone in this relationship and he never notices.

I try to stay up to wait for him to come back from his missions but most nights but he just showers and goes to sleep. I get being The Jason McCann, worlds most wanted is hard, but I feel like I'm in a relationship with a brick wall and it's only hurting me. I know- selfish but it's for the best. He'll probably go back to his playboy days anyways.

Yup could you believe it? Jason used to be with a new girl every night, hell when we met we didn't even like eachother. One thing led to another and here we are, young and madly in love. Wiping the tear that managed to escape my eye thinking about him. Sitting up because Jason will be home in half an hour give or take, I can pack now.

I begin tearing the fabric from the hangers reminiscing the good days we had. Going through the drawers looking for my charger I stumble upon a picture of Jase and I. I'll never forget it; It was new year's eve and we were on the roof of Zayn and Lo's place. It was our first year together, we were happy. The photo shows us leaning in almost about to kiss with chaos and fireworks all around us, we did the camera just didn't capture it.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

That's everything. I set my bags in the kitchen closest to the back door. Awaiting his a rival I just pace a bit while tiding up.

I've been so lonely without him, we barely talk anymore. I'm just there when he needs me. Before he treated me like a princess now I'm equal to his gang members. He's always working late or going out on weekends, I wish I, could, confirm his loyalty busy I have no fucking idea anymore. The ringing of keys at the door distracted me from my previous thoughts.

His face lit up when he saw me "Hey baby" he smiled. It took me by surprise, he hasn't called me baby or in fact any name but the one I was born with in forever. "Hi?" I respond questionly. He just wraps his arms around me and embraced me "I missed you babygirl"

"Are you feeling okay?" I say looking at him. Those eyes, those perfect fucking eyes. The ones that can make my heart flutter with one glance. He looks confused by my question and leans in for a kiss.

If I kiss him I won't want to leave. Christ why does he do this today!

I just doge it by pretending to cough, slowly removing myself from his embrace. "How was your -" "Hold that thought one minute baby I'm just gonna go change really quick I'll be right back"

"But Jase-"

"Right back. " he hurries up the stairs blowing me an air kiss. What the fuck is wrong with him? He suddenly wants to act like a boyfriend that gives a shit.

I waited 20 minutes for Jason to come down stairs, when he didn't I decided to go up. Slowly making my way up what used to be the beautiful steps of our home, I call out his name "Jase?" Reaching the bedroom door I knock but there wasn't a response. Just as I go to open the door it is aggressively pulled open with a not so happy Jason behind it. He's wearing the same clothes. "What happened I thought you were going to change-"

"Shut up" he says lowly.

"What the fuck Jase? "

I'm not scared of him, just his behavior sometimes.

"What the fuck, you tell me y/n," he says with a sinister chuckle. I just look at him confused "So you thought I wouldn't notice your shit missing y/n, what are you trying to do?" I stood there with my arms crossed "Well if you would've let me talk down stairs I would have informed you. "

"INFORM ME ABOUT WHAT Y/N?" He shouts coming closer.

"Jason I can't do this anymore, its, we're not the same" I sigh. He just gets even closer, the vein popping out from the side of his neck. I fidget a bit under his gaze. "So what? you were just gonna leave? You fucking whore."

"Me a whore, really Jason?! You're unbearable " I yell back my voice straining as I do so. "You're the one who's never home, I don't see you anymore, "

I'm even more frustrated than before, "You know what this isn't worth my time. Good fucking bye Jason" I say turning around but he grabs my arm and yanks me back.

"You're not going anywhere."

"Jase get off of me" I say pulling away from him. His grip just tightens. He harshly pushes me against a wall causing me groan in pain and annoyance, he just looks me dead on the eye. "You're not leaving me. "

I stop fighting back and sigh "Why not? Huh Jase" He doesn't say anything. I just listen to his increased respiration and look at his eyes, they've dilated quite a bit.

"Oh now you wanna be quiet" I say pushing his chest moving past him. "You're pathetic" I spit walking away.

"Y/n wait" he says not turning. Stopping in my tracks I waited for him to continue but after a minute I began descending down the stairs. The memories this place holds will haunt me but I keep reminding myself I need to do this for me. I have too- but he makes me happy or used to at least.

Walking into the living room to pick up my phone, wallet, and keys that are on the table. Leaving Jason is like leaving a piece of me but it's time I make a decision for me, it's gonna hurt but it's for the best. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.

Walking to the door grabbing my bags and heading out the door loading them into the back of my car. I go back in to make sure I didn't leave anything and Jason is just standing there looking at me. I shift uncomfortably under his gaze but ignore it. "There's food in the fridge and your clothes are done just put them up and u-uhh yeah." He just continues to give me the same blank look. " Jason I don't want us to end on bad terms we can st-" He just looks at me dumbly before I can finish. "Y/n you're really gonna pull that shit on me" I go to speak but he just continued " Three years y/n and you're gonna leave me now. I fucking love you and you're going to leave me. I don't know what to do with myself, I know I'm a shit boyfriend but this is new to me. I need you y/n. My life is not complete without you in it. You're my everything my reason to be here, you make me better in every way." He chokes holding back tears coming closer to me and embracing me , "I'm so sorry baby" he cries into my hair. I just hug him, he needs this. "I know" I coo running my hand through his hair gently letting him calm down. His warm tears flow onto my shirt, I haven't seen Jason break down like this before. He's never cried in front of me. I didn't realize that I was crying until he pulled away to wipe my tears with his thumb. He kisses my forehead and whispers "please don't leave me" I just shake my head "Jase I think th-his will be healthy for us" "Please y/n, I'll try harder , I'll control myself , I'll be better for you. I'll do anything for you y/n" he pleads "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry"

"Jason, I don't -" he interrupts my sentence by smashing his lips on mine. Grasping the back of his neck pulling him closer to me he moves down my neck leaving a trail of wet kisses until he finds my sweet spot. I'm so weak for him. "J-jason" i halfly moan, He just continues to suck and i know exactly what he's doing.

I just let him continue because he wont stop until he’s ready. Running my hands through his hair as he continues his asult on my neck marking me as his. Once he's done he looks to admire his deep purple and red piece of art lightly tracing it he smiles down at me, cupping my cheek. "You're mine, Okay. no one will ever love you like I love you." He softly presses his lips, to mine.

AN:

Hey guys hope you enjoyed it! I know its short, they get longer I promise. I'm open to anything but im slow as hell.

ANyways hope your holidays are well. I really think Jason McCann can be played out in so many ways, I cannot wait for you guys to read.

Xoxox-Janelle

#justin bieber #jason mccann #y/n imagine #writing #jb #justin drew bieber #justin bieber imagines #fanfic

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violetnotez · 4 years ago

Note

hello!! how are u today? i hope youre well💖 may i request a baku crushing on a girl who is native eng speaker, but has never heard her speak. however one day the whole class is watching some eng movie n y/n starts dissing the movie in eng bc its so bad n the whole class is sHOCKED BC HER VOICE IS SO FLUENT N SM DEEPER IN ENG. bakubabe is just there like damn thats hot.

Hey babes! I’m doing well thank you, just doing some stuffs for my art blog! I hope youre doing well 💕💕also thank you to @gallickingun for the mangacap, it saved me so much time and I was actually able to color it! 😍

Also: IM ALIVE!!!! I LITERALLY WROTE THIS TODAY AND OMG I MISS WIRITNG! I’ll start on that Dabi x reader fic I mentioned in a little bit, just wanted to post this! Hopefully it’s good lmao

⤷ Genre: Fluff

⤷ Word Count: 2020

⤷ Warnings: cursing its bakubabe

⤷ Synopsis: Bakugo won’t admit it to himself, but he’s conflicted: he knows he has a crush on you, but his dumbass won’t admit it-well, until he hears your sexy American voice.

Song Recs: ⤷If I Cant Have You-Shawn Mendes⤷Thinking About You-Calvin Harris ⤷Rather Be-Clean Bandit

This was so stupid. Completely dumb and a waste of his time.

Bakugo slumped in his seat a little more, a grumble escaping his lips as he tried to focus on the screen in front of him, his broad shoulders crossed in front of him.

He should be sleeping right now, not sitting and watching this dumbass romantic American movie, especially when you were by his side.

There was no reason why his cheeks should feel hotter when you laughed at the movie, or his hands feel clammy with his sweat everytime you shifted your body closer to him.

It was pissing him off, because no matter how much he tried to ignore the pent up emotions in his chest, he had to admit it to himself-he had a goddamn crush.

On you, the goddamn exchange student.

Fucking great.

His lips pouted as he sulked in his seat on the couch, trying his best to glue his eyes to the screen instead of sneaking a glance at your profile.

The TV showed one of the most sickly sweet and horrific scenes he had ever witnessed: the main couple on screen were finally declaring their love to each other, their voices getting louder and more desperate as they tried to one up each other, almost as if battling to see who could last the longest.

“I love you to the moon!”

“I love you to the moon and back!”

“I love you to the moon and all the stars in the sky!”

“And I love you to-“

A laugh erupted next to him, Bakugo swiveling his head over to see you giggling in your seat, your pretty lips parted as those sweet sounds came from your mouth.

“God, this is terrible!” You chuckled, shaking your head as you said it.

Bakugo’s face reddened, his eyes widening from the sounds coming from your mouth.

Your sentence wasn’t in Japanese: it was foreign and new, American sounding.

Bakugo was used to your voice sounding light and airy when you talked in Japanese, like a leaf on a autumn breeze as it floated into his ears and danced in his mind whenever you spoke his native language. Sometimes you would fumble over the words, trying to piece the meanings together as a blush formed on your cheeks and your eyes turned up from embarrassment. He always made fun of you from it, usually telling you to “Spit it out Baka, I don’t got all day”, but really-he absolutely loved it. You sounded so sweet, so innocent and endearing: he just wanted to wrap you in a hug and envelope himself in your sugar sweet voice.

But right now, your voice was somehow the opposite-it was deeper and richer, like warm,auburn honey on a summer evening. It coated his mind in its thick numbness, the only thing he could think of was how deep and sultry, and well, sexy, it sounded coming from your lips.

He squirmed in his seat, hating how much that little change in your tone affected him so much as you continued to giggle at the wreck of a movie in front of you.

Your class turned to look at you, their faces clearly as shocked as Bakugo’s-they had never actually heard your voice when you spoke English, and they weren’t quite used to it.

You looked at your classmates, your face twisted in innocent confusion.

“What? What did I say?” You asked again in that sultry American voice, making Bakugo shift in his seat, his face looking away from you as he covered his mouth with his hand.

Damn you needed to get that voice under control-he felt like you were controlling his emotions when you spoke like that.

“Whoa y/n you know English!” Kamianri propped himself up, his face clearly in awe as he yelled it out the words.

Sero, who was sitting beside him, chuckled at his air headed friend, giving him a judging look.

“Uh, you do realize she’s from America, right?” Sero snickered, Kamianri looking sheepish as he realized his forgetfulness.

“Oops, Sorry!” He yelled out again, earning a laugh from you and the rest of your classmates.

Jealousy bubbled inside Bakugo like a volcanic eruption, the dangerous emotion barely being contained inside him as his fists clenched.

He hated when others made you laugh, especially his freinds, who unfortunately figured out the crush he had on you a few weeks back. Hearing you giggle at his idiot friends made him want to yell out in possession, declaring that they should know that you were his-well would be his- and they should lay off. But you didn’t suspect a thing about his feelings, and he really didn’t feel like looking like a possessive freak in front of you.

He felt your body shift next to his, his heart beating faster as your finger tapped his shoulder.

“Hey, Uh, Bakugo?” You whispered, the sweet tone of your Japanese voice making him shudder pleasantly, as well as long for your deeper American voice.

He grunted in response, his arms still slung across his broad chest.

“Did I talk in my American voice?”

He scoffed, his eyes rolling in his sockets at how adorably oblivious you could be sometimes. He sent you a shit eating smirk, his vermillion eyes dark like wine.

“What do you think?” He stated, but he didn’t say it in his language, no-he said it English.

He watched your face instantly light up, your eyes bright with excitement and awe as you gasped.

“Wait-you know English?!” You yelled out in awe, a smile erupting on your face. That smile seemed to shake his world, his mind eternally thanking that the room was so dark as his cheeks flushed.

“Of course I know English,” he scoffed, “what idiot doesnt.”

You giggled at his comment, your body shifting closer to his.

Damn it, his cheeks were getting hotter-he could feel your shoulder a mere centimeters away from his, your skin radiating a coolness that felt so soothing being near his permanently hot flesh.

You leaned in closer, your eyes watching his face with sweetness. “How long have you been speaking it?” you asked, but in that hot ass American voice-he was about to combust right then and there.

Shit-he would never admit it, but he hadn’t been exactly practicing his second language. He had learned it back in middle school, when it was a required class, and he had passed it with flying colors of course. Over the years though, he began to forget it, and he was pretty rusty now, now only remembering a few phrases (‘What do you think?’ being one of them)

“Ahh-“ he grumbled out, feeling stupid for not even understanding what you had said. He felt those pretty eyes of yours continue to stare at him, making him feel almost guilty for leading you on as you face fell slightly.

“You didn’t understand what I said, did you?” You asked sadly, back to using your airy Japanese voice. He hated seeing you look so disappointed, as if he let you down in some way.

“Of course I do, dumbass, I just-“

“It’s been awhile since you spoken it?”

He grunted in reply, your mind already translating that to a “Yes.”

Your face somehow light up again, your body even closer to his as you shimmied yourself near him.

“Then I’ll reteach you it!”

“Huh?” He looked at you, his eyes slanted as you peered at you with an almost judging look. What the hell were you playing at?

You nodded again, your lips letting out a slight hum.

“Yeah, I’ll teach you a phrase in English! To be honest, I miss having someone to talk to in my language…” you chuckled at your revelation, your eyes coated in embarrassment.

Well shit-if you needed someone to talk to in English, he was going to be the one to do it. With his damn luck Icy Hot and damn Deku would jump in and be your little English buddy. His skin crawled at the idea of you getting all cozy with one of those two bastards, his insides light up like a fire.

“Fine,” he huffed out, pretending like he was giving in, “but I’m not sitting through a whole damn lesson.”

You chuckled slightly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ears.

“Don’t worry, I’ll start off easy,” you smiled up at him, looking up slightly as if in thought.

“We’ll start with a something easy,” you instructed.

“I’ll teach you-“your sweet Japanese voice suddenly turned rich like syrup as it switched to American. ‘Hi my name is Bakugo”,

“Easy enough?” You asked, switching back to Japanese.

“Fucking elementary,” he scoffed, “yeah I can do it.”

“Cool!” You exclaimed quietly, still mindful of your classmates watching the crappy movie. You shimmied again, your face squarely staring at his as you waited for him to start speaking, your eyes expecting and wide with anticipation.

Shit he was supposed to be paying attention?

Bakugo cursed himself in his mind, as he was too preoccupied listening to your hot as hell American accent.

Damn, he was going to have a hard time talking to you in English, especially if you said his name like that. He hadn't realized how mezmorized he was by the way you spoke his name, your voice low and sultry as if you were telling him a secret, something he was only able to hear. His spine tingled and his hands clammed up again, making his mouth feel dry.

Shit, you’d be the end of him.

He opened his mouth, feeling uncharacteristically nervous as he tried to speak the words you had spoken. He could barely remember how you had said them though, the syllables coming out his mouth feeling cracked and awkward.

“H-hi my n-ame is...shit!” He cursed at himself, hating the way the words felt in his mouth. He couldn't say them right, knowing full well he looked like an idiot as his cheeks began to redden.

He heard you giggle next to him, the voice sounding sweet and kind against his ear.

“It okay,” you reassured him, “your just opening your mouth a little too wide...here-“

Before he could register what was even going on, your hand had wrapped delicately around his jaw, the floral scent of your perfume swarming his mind and making him unable to think straight. Your digits were pressing against his hot cheeks, forcing his lips to pout out slightly.

Damn, if he thought he was blushing, it was nothing compared to this-it felt like his cheeks were on fire.

You laughed at his clearly shocked face, his vermillion eyes wide and filled with confusion.

“Don’t worry, Bakugo, I’m just helping you,” you reassured him, your voice feathery as you whispered close to his ear.

Why the hell did that sound so hot?

You sent him another smile, speaking again in Japanese and then back to English, “Just say- ‘Hi my name is Bakugo’,”

he continued to star at you, actually beginning to like the feel your digits pressed against his mouth.

He swallowed, trying to coat his dry mouth with saliva.

“Hi-my name-is-Bakugo,” he stuttered out.

He wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but he had to admit it-his English voice did sound much better with your fingers pressed against his cheeks like that.

You clearly noticed it as well, your face triumphant and proud. “There ya go, that sounded so much better!” You congratulated him, your fingers retracting from his skin.

He already missed the feeling of your cold skin against his hot flesh, his cheeks feeling empty without your digits pressing against them.

He sucked the flesh of his cheeks into his mouth, moving his jaw.

“Shitty woman-need to give me a warning-“ he scolded you, his hands feeling clammy with the sudden change in events.

You rolled your eyes, lying yourself against the couch cushions and returning your gaze to the TV.

“Well, your going to have to get used to it if I’m going to teach you more-“

“Teach me more?!?” He practically yelled out, gaining a few confusing looks from his classmates.

“Of course!” you smiled as if it was obvious, “need to make sure your fluent enough for a conversation dumbie!”

“It’s also fun seeing you blush like that Bakugo,” you playfully nudged his ribcage, sending him a wink as you turned your gaze to the movie, unaware of how flustered you just made him.

Well shit-he thought numbly, a small grin playing against his mouth-you were something else.

Taggings:

@weebartistinc @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser @bakarinnie

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader imagine #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugo x reder #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #bnha katsuki x reader #mha katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader fluff #bnha bakugo fluff #bnha bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader imagine

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