Please Do More Bad Boy Aone It Was Amazing

Bestfriends| MHA X BlackFemReader

Hi Besties ! I was in a writing mood but, I didn't feel like messing with my current WIP because ✨procrastination✨, so here are some cute, maybe NSFW headcannons/scenarios about the boys reacting to their bestfriend(who they have a crush on) being at their place when they get home from a stressful day! This is literally my fingers moving faster than my brain, so bare with me if it's awful lol.

Warning NSFW (18+) Content| Viewer Discretion Advised

oral sex

fingering

foul language

mentions of blood

penetration (?) - idk, haven't written it yet.

Aged up/ ProHero characters

ProHero! Deku

You met when you transferred into the support course during your second year, he was always coming in to discuss changes in his costume design and the two of you just clicked. It went from casual greetings in the hallways to movie marathons on the weekends.

Whenever he'd go on school missions you'd hug him so tight, lecturing him to be careful. "I'll be fine, (n/n)" he'd blush, but he'd nuzzle against your neck before saying his final goodbyes.

Your protectiveness continued well into adulthood, when he was a full fledged Pro Hero. Always hovering and fussing over him, threatening to jump in if he was ever in trouble. He never complained about you babying him, though. He loved that you cared.

People found your dynamic hilarious, this big ole' man being lead around by little old you. Hanging on to your every word like a puppy. He was enamored with you, but for the sake of your friendship he never mentioned it.

Izuku was dead tired, the day had been brutal. He'd fought several villains, ended up in a hostage situation and fell off a roof. Blood and grit clung to his skin and hero costume. He was desperate to get to his hot shower and warm bed.

Walking through the door, he heard a random R&B song playing over the stereo and smelled fresh baked cookies. That could only mean one thing. She's home, he thought, smiling to himself as he made his way into the living room. Izuku had given you a spare key for emergency's but you honestly you used it whenever you were feeling bored. He didn't mind, he loved seeing you when he made it home.

"(Y/N). I'm home." he called out, kicking his shoes of near the couch. He started to worry when you didn't respond immediately but relaxed when he heard running water. Izuku trudged down the hallway, rolling his neck and stretching his sore muscles along the way. "Puppy. It's me." he knocked twice and cracked the door open, smiling when your bonnet covered head peaked through the frosted glass door.

"Oh my god, Izu! What the hell happened?" He chuckled to himself, not even five minutes into the house and he found himself on the receiving end of one of your lectures. "I had a rough day. Fucking tired." he groaned and you flinched at his words. Izuku rarely cursed, so he must be feeling pretty bad. "You almost done? I'm gross." he peeled off his hero costume, too exhausted to feel bashful. It's not like you've never seen him in his underwear before, you're his bestfriend.

"Friend" he mumbled, rolling his eyes. On days like this it was hard for him to hide his true feelings. All he wanted was to pull you into his arms and kiss the stress away. "I just got in but, I'll get out- "No, no. I'm gonna get in with you."

Before you could protest his was sliding the door open and pushing himself inside 🌚. "Izu!" you screeched, covering your breasts with your hands. It was counterproductive because it pushed them up nicely and gave him a nice view of your puffy cunt. Was she touching her self? he quirked a brow, but shook the thought off "I'm tired. I didn't want to wait anymore". That statement was pretty loaded considering the current situation and his feelings about your relationship. "Just this once, please" he pouted, handing you his sponge and body wash.

With a sigh, you took the items and began pampering your friend, being sure to nag him simultaneously. He couldn't care less, too caught up in the way your fingernails felt scratching his scalp or your soapy hands running across his skin. He didn't even realize you were crying until your voice broke.

"I know you can take care of yourself but, I still worry." you paused, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades and wrapping your arms around his torso. He hummed, rolling his head back and covering your hands with his own, it felt good being with you like this. Nothing could ruin this moment. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Izu. You're my bestfriend."

That did it.

In a flash he had you pinned against the shower wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. "Look at us right now, (Y/N). Is this what bestfriends feel like ?" You felt his tip slide through your folds, picking up the slick that had been accumulating since he'd first gotten in the shower. "i-Izu ?" you stammer, and he pulls back to watch your face as he teases your entrance. "I don't want to be friends anymore, puppy." Your mouth falls open when he starts to push in, splitting you open on his enormous ✨cock✨ and he takes this opportunity to pull you into a bruising kiss.

"We should be lovers instead."

ProHero! Red Riot

The two of you met in the drugstore one day when he was looking for hairdye. The store was out of his usual brand and he didn't know which one would be closest to Radiant Ruby. So he was staring at the boxes having an internal meltdown. Dark roots are not manly.

"Try Very Vermillion, the undertone is different but its the same shade. If you just touch up the roots you can barely tell the difference." Your soft voice caught his attention, and then your bright smile and similarly dyed hair. It was a deeper red than his and it went well with your (l/d) brown skin. "Thanks, cutie. I really appreciate it." he pulled down his shades and winked, enough to make most ladies swoon but you just smirked back. "No problem, Mr. Riot."

"How'd ya know it was me?" he asked, following you down the aisle. He was shocked, it seemed like a pretty good disguise when he left in the morning. "Kinda had to mistake a killer smile like that" you winked, and the blush that grew on his cheeks was enough to put Radiant Ruby out of business for good. "Can I get your name?" he asked, red eyes never leaving your figure as you checked out. He thought he was being stealthy but you noticed. "(Y/N). How about you get me lunch too?"

Henceforth, you were inseparable.

"Yo, Ei. Where's your twin?" Katsuki teased, referencing your similar hair color and the fact that you were always wearing his merch. He called you his "mini me", which is true since he's a freaking giant. "I'm on my way to her place now!" he beamed, "she promised to make me some American food!" He loved when you cooked for him. One of his favorite pass times was watching you move around the kitchen, whipping up different dishes for him to try. "Tch, you two idiots should just make it official already." Katsuki huffed, nudging his friend who was smiling at his phone. Probably because you'd sent him an "adorable" photo wearing some new merch you picked up. "Nah, she's way too good for me." he'd smile sadly, stuffing his phone, and his feelings, in his back pocket.

You were putting the brownies in the oven when you heard the front door open. "I'm in the kitchen, Red !" you called, eager to see his expression when he saw the spread that you'd prepared for him.

Pro Hero! Red Riot had won a major victory today after an intense battle with some huge villain downtown. It was all over the news. He smiled and waved at the cameras, because it was the manly thing to do, but you could see that he was wore out. You wanted to do something special, so you prepared all his favorite foods. Fried chicken, Cajun steak alfredo, meat buns, and brownies for dessert. The man could eat.

"Hey pebble. What are you- wow ! What's all this ?" he smiled brightly as he entered the kitchen, tossing his mask on the counter and reaching for a piece of chicken. "Aht Aht!" you smacked his hand with a wooden spoon, "wash your hands first. You're filthy". He pouted but complied.

"What's the special occasion?" he asked, watching you fix him a heaping plate of food.

"I saw your fight on the news. You did so good, big guy!" You pinched his flushed cheeks and gave a knowing smirk. Eijiro may seem overly confident but he's actually pretty insecure sometimes; you're constantly reassuring him, being sure to remind him how great he is and how lucky you are to have him. It was fun for you because you liked how giddy he'd get after a few compliments. His praise kink goes crazy.

"(Y/N)- , stopp" he whined, but made no real effort to escape your grasp. "Why would I? You're the best, Riot. So big, and strong and manly." His cheeks were super red now and chewing on his lip.

Loose strands of hair fell into his eyes and you brushed them behind his ear . "(Y/N)" he whispered, you were so close and your words had his heart racing. "So brave. So kind." The game you were playing faded away as you gazed up at him. "So pretty." Your fingers traced the lines of his face, his cheeks, his nose, his lips. "You're so pretty, Red."

His resolve snapped. Trapping you between his arms, he bent down and pressed your lips together. An explorative action, kind of testing the waters. He pulled back and rubbed his nose against yours.

"I think you're pretty too."

One thing led to another and now you're sprawled out on the kitchen counter while his thick tongue swirls around your swollen clit with two fingers in your cunt and his thumb in your asshole. When your pussy contracts around your digits and you cum screaming his name, he licks the slick off his fingers and goes back down for seconds.

The man loves to eat.

ProHero! Mindbreak

The two of you met when he came into your new coffee shop in downtown Tokyo.

"Just a large black coffee, extra sweet, with a squirt of chocolate" he sighed, placing his card on the counter and rubbing his eyes. He looked miserable so you decided to cheer him up, or at least try to. "Wow, are you ordering a drink or me?" you giggled, a sickeningly sweet bubbly sound. It made him want to puke. "I don't think I could stomach both." he deadpanned. Ouch.

Too stunned to speak, you walked off and busied yourself with his order. "Nice going, Hitoshi. You hurt the airhead's feelings." he mumbled to himself, watching you pout and chew at your lip. He thought you were kind of cute. At least if you were into chunky little bimbos, which he definitely was.

"Sorry about that" he said as you handed him the cup, "hero stuff". "S'Okay!" You giggled again and leaned forward against the counter, flashing him a nice view of your tits. What a little ditz he thought, eyeing you as he took a sip. "Oh wow" he blinked, "this is the best coffee I've ever had". The smile that you gave him was so bright, he almost regretting telling you. It was way too early for this. "Great!" you chirp. sliding his card back to him. "It's on the house. A small thank you keeping the city safe, Mr. Hero."

Now he was too stunned to speak. He wasn't used to people being so nice to him; most folks were intimated by his quirk or his resting bitch face. It didn't bother you though. He mumbled a "thanks" and headed towards the door. "Come back and see us now." Hitoshi raised his cup and nodded, he'd definitely be returning.

He came in the same time everyday, ready to be met with the aroma of coffee and your smiling face. It got to the point that you had it waiting for him before he even made it to the counter. If it wasn't busy, you'd sit at a small table chat; well you'd do most of the talking. Hitoshi would just sip his drink quietly and listen to you ramble on about whatever ditzy thoughts were swirling in your cute little head.

"I don't that's what it means, sweetheart." He'd smirk whenever you misunderstood something. He loved the little face you'd make when you were confused. Your nose would scrunch up and the dimples in your chubby cheeks would pop out. "But 'Toshi, he specifically said 'those buns look delicious' don't you think they look good?" you pouted, pointing towards the freshly baked pastries. The perv was clearly talking about the way your round ass jiggled in that cute little mini skirt when you reached for something high on the shelf, but you didn't need to know that. "They look amazing, sweetheart. I'll take two."

Nothing particularly bad happened during Hitoshi's shift. He was just fucking exhausted. He'd been working the night shift for the past three weeks with no off day. You'd seen how worn out his was so you stopped by his house sometimes to make sure he was taken care off himself. You knew he kept a spare key above his doorframe, so you just let yourself in.

"Welcome home, Toshi !" you greeted him at the door wearing nothing but one of his muscle shirts. What in the actual fuck? "My clothes got wet when I was cleaning so I just grabbed one of your shirts while they dry. I hope you don't mind." Why would he mind when you were wearing the smallest shirt he owned and it fit your soft curves perfectly. You weren't even wearing a bra, round tits spilling out the sides whenever you moved your arms. And did you say you cleaned? He looked around and the place was spotless, hell you even fed his cat. Could you be anymore perfect?

"Thank you, sweetheart" He pulled you into a tight hug, pressing his body against yours and nuzzling against your neck. You always smelled so good. Like coffee and chocolate. "Thanks for what?" you giggled as you rubbed his back. "For everything" he mumbled and you scoffed, "I'd do anything for you, Toshi. It's no big deal." Hitoshi pulled back and looked down at you, "Anything?".

"Of course I would. I love you, silly."

"C'mere", Hitoshi picked you up and laid you on the couch, you were startled and confusion and you watched him curiously when he laid on top of you and pushed his face between your boobs. "I love you, too" he murmured, pulling the fabric to the side with his teeth and popping your nipple into his mouth.

"T-toshi!" you gasped, grinding up against him but he held your hips down. He flicked his tongue against the bud and pulled off with a *pop*, "You'd do anything for me, right?" One finger swirled around your nipple, while the other slid up your thigh and onto you clothed pussy. "Y-yes" you whimpered, taking a shaky breath when his finger snaked under your lacy panties and into your waiting cunt.

"Be mines."

Nastygirls| @xogabbiexo, @thicksimpx, @plussizeficchick, @namjoonswifeyy, @tenyaiidasslut, @po3ticb3auty, @kaizokuluv, @angwritez, @presidentmonica, @indiecursor, @arielspoem, @xosuki, @dejwrites @gabzlovesu

Who could ever leave me, darling?

SImon "Ghost" RIley x Johnny "Soap" McTavish x Reader Warnings: guilt, kinda cheating but not really, usual Simon fucked up thoughts, pining, a bit of religious imaginery. Summary: Men only feel good when they're drowning in guilt.

Simon has his alarm set at four hundred sharp; not a minute less, not a minute more. Before the birds and the people, before schools and training camps and the Sun itself. Suspended in time, even if he can hear his watch tick every second.

Activities at base start at five hundred, almost exactly. The big, old speakers blare that horrible music that you can still hear recruits groan at, while the rest just sigh and sit up. Simon hates it, always had. It somehow reminded him of Manchester and dear old daddy, of screams and the door slamming and things breaking again and again. A few weeks into his career, he bit his way through the panic attack he had for breakfast. 

But it isn’t why he gets up before that time. It isn’t because he’s nuts either-although, he won’t deny that one.

The kitchens start at four hundred, just like him. He remembers, back when he still had some baby fat and less baggage to carry, the fights that would break out with the other recruits, just to see who would get the chance to help inside there for the week. 

The kitchen is an absolute nightmare. Everyone is always yelling, fighting, clawing at each other’s throats. He had to dodge quite a few knives when he was the lucky bastard, but he wouldn’t so much as flinch when a glass broke or some plates ended up crashing against a wall. Violence is banned all over base, and especially inside there. But in the unspoken rule book, violence isn’t the same as aggressiveness, Simon-and all armed forces- know that. 

He has never actually asked, but he’s pretty sure some of the staff remember him from when he was younger and wasn’t Ghost yet, just Sgt. Riley, or even before that. Definitely before that. 

They must remember him standing in a corner without getting in anybody's way, washing the dishes peacefully in the middle of a warzone. Get there early, leave late. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he's sure they noticed how skittish he was at first, the sight of a man bordering on two meters acting like a mouse must have stuck. 

Otherwise, he doesn’t understand why they indulge him with the cups of coffee he always asks for, when they’re barely firing up the stoves.

It’s nice, getting the first fresh cups instead of the coffee that tastes like dirt everyone else drinks. Warm, black more often than not. The head chef-if Simon can call him that- always shoves a few of the little packs of sugar inside his pants, not even sparing him a glance before he's already insulting someone's mother for screwing up Jesus knows what. A little piece of Heaven at the price of waking up an hour before.

It’s still not the reason, though. 

“Aye, L.t., that for me? Or for th’gorgeous thing back at barracks?”

The fucker always asks the same shit, with the same smug grin and the sleepiness he hasn’t managed to shake off despite having been awake, too, since four hundred sharp. 

Simon shoves one of the cups at Johnny and rolls his eyes, urging the scalding liquid to subdue the smile he doesn’t want to show. 

He never touches a single pack of sugar. He doubts anyone but you knows it, but he prefers both coffee and tea so sweet it even smells different. He spares himself bitterness when he can. Mornings are not the case. 

“Should just get the one for her, if you’ll be so fuckin’ annoying.”

Johnny tears open three packs and pours them all in one go inside his cup, leaving another three untouched inside his other pocket. You like sweet things too.

Johnny laughs, doesn’t dare say anything else. Both soak in the peace of being awake before anyone else, afraid of tearing apart the little pocket in time that both have made for themselves.  

Simon stands up with your cup and doesn’t look back when he feels a pair of blue eyes following his every step. 

-

Johnny looks at Simon like he saw him make the galaxy itself. Like, with his own eyes, he witnessed satellites and stars and the entire universe come from Simon's hands. It feels overwhelming to look at, somewhat asphyxiating. His eyes shine, deep blue with waves crashing against his pupils. He doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t do it consciously. Otherwise, he’d stop- or try to, at least. 

But Johnny always acts as if he's paying back. 

He gives Simon his brightest smiles, his best jokes, the best version of himself. He follows him around wherever they are, treasures every bit that Simon allows him to have of his person. You don’t think you have ever seen Johnny shine as bright as when he’s next to Simon. Were Johnny a different man and not the wicked fucking genius he is, you'd swear he does it blindly. 

It's not the case though. He genuinely thinks that Simon is one of the best things on Earth despite-or even with-his defects. 

Again, if it were any other person, or even any other context, you’d probably think he’s borderline pathetic. But the truth is, you’re not much better than him, and neither is Simon.

While Johnny looks at him like the galaxy is his own work, Simon looks at Johnny like he made it all for him. Even though most of the time when they’re together you can’t see his full face, his eyes shine so much it blinds you. It’s like he can’t look away, like Johnny is burning right in front of him with the energy of the Sun and Simon is trying to take in as much of it as he can. He’s not as harsh, not as closed off. The little creases by his eyes deepened in a hurry ever since he's had him in his life. If Johnny were the Sun, Simon would be a sunflower.

Neither of them seem to realize it though. Simon doesn’t realize he looks at Johnny like he looks at you, and Johnny looks at him like you do. Neither catch it, or if they do, they seem content to let things be as they are.

It's hard to be mad at something so intense, so… pure and selfless. What you see in their eyes resembles adoration more than anything else, lust rarely turning things red when most of the time it shines gold. When Simon told you for the first time that he’d die for Johnny, after he had a close call right in front of his eyes, you realized that there was just no way those feelings would go away. 

It was easy to make peace with. Easy to look at Simon walk lighter, easy to laugh at Johnny's jokes when he tries to make him laugh, easy to see their bodies gravitate towards each other. It even came easy, when Simon's nightmares startled you awake with Johnny's name slipping from his lips almost as often as yours.

Simon though, he sometimes looks like he’s playing a choosing game that doesn’t need to exist. Loving Johnny certainly isn’t hard, you think.

-

Johnny hates training the new recruits, which surprised Simon at first. 

He’s so bubbly and social that one would think he’s amazing with new people, which he technically is as long as he’s not the one that has to give them orders and tolerate the disrespect that hasn’t been beaten out of them. He doesn’t want to be the person to do it, afraid of seeing himself in one of their eyes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror some days.

Simon is burning with shame when he asks you to help with the new recruits just to spare Johnny. He expects you to glare at him and tell him to go fuck himself, because he thinks he deserves it, but you just smile and nod. He doesn’t tell you that it’s for Johnny’s benefit, wouldn’t ever dare throw something like that in your face, but you still smile at him in a way that twists his guts up and down. He doesn’t think about what else you might know. 

“Are they brand new, or SAS new?”

Simon grins at you without meaning to. He’s always pleased when you ask things out of nowhere that most people wouldn’t bother to think about. “Who Dares Wins, love.”

You roll your eyes at him, but he can see the smile that threatens to split your face. You haven’t helped him with recruits since the marines visited the headquarters a few months ago, and it hadn’t been pretty. Marines always tend to think they’re better than anyone, but Simon doesn’t think he has the right to criticize.

Standing next to you feels like coming home from walking through snow. Simon used to think that there was no coming back from dying along with Roach, and then dying again with his family. He was no better than a corpse, no better than a man buried deep underground. 

You smile at him, and he’d believe you dug him out of his grave with your bare hands.

"You can handle it, love?"

You shrug. "I can handle you just fine."

He laughs as he watches you walk away, smug grin decorating your pretty face.

-

Johnny doesn’t feel guilty, exactly.

Guilt comes when you do something wrong, when your actions equal damage in one way or another. He knows guilt because he's a common visitor at night, when the screams of innocent people keep him awake for hours on end and nothing he does quiets them down. But how could he feel guilty for the way he feels when he looks at Simon, when it so often feels like the only thing keeping him alive?

But he does think that it’s unfair to you. It’s not like he plans acting on it, he never would and he’s made his peace with that. But he sees the way Simon worships the ground you walk on, and chokes up just thinking about taking it away from you. So he won’t, simply because you don’t deserve that kind of thing and he’s not that kind of man. 

(Or maybe, maybe he is. Maybe he lays awake at night thinking about pale skin and blond hair, about scarred hands and a deep voice saying stupid jokes to pass the time. Maybe he is, but he won’t be just this once. Just to spare you the pain.)

“What’s the plan for today, Johnny boy?”

He laughs. Coming from any other person, the nickname would earn at least an insult to them and their mother. Coming from you? It earns you a hug.

“Don’t know yet, bonnie. Weapons, maybe.”

(Do you know?)

“Sounds like fun.”

He’s not sure if you’re being sarcastic or not. You have that kind of bite, not quite like Simon but more like Price. Simon does it to hurt, to keep people away. You though, it’s more a reflex than anything else. He likes it.

“At least it’s not recruits.”

You give him a soft, understanding smile that he doesn’t fully process before you walk away.

-

Simon does feel guilty.

Despite everything, he thinks you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. He’s not a man of faith, but it's easy to believe when he's looking at your eyes. Whenever you’re near, it’s like he got a pair of lungs brand new, and he’s breathing properly for the first time. You’re not a magic pill that fixes everything, but carrying a cross would be a daily simple task if you were the one giving him sips of water. 

Feeling something so close to love for someone that isn’t you resembles treason too much for him. 

It's wasted on him, he knows. Wasted when you beam at him, when you touch his face and kiss his nose, when you hug him and grin and he feels so full . You're wasted on him, and he's known that from the moment you caught his eye, standing next to the captain. It's just gotten worse since Johnny got in the picture. 

But he’s selfish. He’s never been shy about that, doesn’t deny it or try to get better. He’s selfish, his hands have scars that show just how hard he holds on. 

He can recognize it’s a matter of choosing, though.

He dated a girl, for a short while. He was seventeen, already torn up inside and bruised. She was sweet, kind. She'd giggle at his dark humour and grab a wet cloth to clean up his split lip, the bloody knuckles. Always shrug it off when she asked, always smiling when she kept quiet and accepted it.

‘You're so calm’ , she'd say, pressed against his side. ‘So peaceful .’

She was also naive. 

He was thankful about it, at first. He'd pray she didn’t realize how wrong she was, how he wasn't anything but chaos. 

Being loved gently was nice. He liked her smile and her touch, how soft spoken she got after a certain hour, how her eyes reflected things he wasn’t sure were real. 

They were both confused, he thinks. She believed him peaceful and he lied to himself about it being a good thing.

But he's never been something remotely close to peace, doesn’t know what it is. Born screaming, grown up fighting, earning a living by killing. 

She loved a part of him that didn’t exist, he would accept later. The rage brewing inside of him kept him quiet because otherwise he'd fear spitting venom. She didn’t see him, and he didn’t love her. 

He thinks often about the artificial lungs from before, the metal bins that didn’t let people have an actual life. He thinks about oxygen tanks and insulin and Ozampic and Epi Pens, and realizes that he won’t ever be able to live without you now that he has a diagnosis. He can’t .

But Johnny? Johnny might just be the thing that throws him into anaphylactic shock. 

–

“What’s your favorite color, Johnny boy?”

He hums, thinking about it for a second. It used to be green before the army, turned into purple when his sister dyed her hair that color when Johnny was fifteen and the youngest had five. She chopped it a few months later and Johnny isn’t a fan of it now. 

“Maybe yellow?”

You snort. “Maybe? So you don’t know your favorite color?” You take a deep breath. “Hey, pick up the pace! This isn’t fuckin’ summer camp!”

Johnny can’t really help it: he laughs. He clutches at his belly, squeezes his eyes shut and laughs his ass off at the horrified looks of the recruits before they start running for their lives. You don’t stop frowning until you turn your gaze back to him and his cackles turn into soft giggles.

“I like it in the sky. Fuckin’ hate mustard yellow, though.”

You nod like he’s spitting the truth about the universe. It may as well be, sitting in the middle of the back camp with a cup of coffee between your hands. The sunrise suits you, he notices. It makes him feel warm inside.

“What’s yours, bonnie?”

You tilt your head. “All of them.”

He doesn’t have it in him to make jokes. It chokes him up, the way your eyes look at him full of trust and something softer he doesn’t deserve. 

“Why should I choose, Johnny? What purpose does it serve? I can see them all, have them all.”

He shakes his head, pulling you close until you rest your head against his and the slight shake of your hands dissipates.

“Jus’ admit ya dinnae what t’ say, bonnie.”

He wishes everything was as simple as not choosing.  

-

“Do you know if Johnny has a girl?”

Simon sits straighter without meaning to.

“I-I don’t- I'm not sure, no?” 

He'd like to think he'd know if he did. God, he fucking hopes so, otherwise his brain might end up splattered inside the-

“I figured. Can’t understand why, he's fucking gorgeous.”

Johnny's eyes are his favorite shade of blue. 

“He's fucking annoying, is what he is.”

He doubts his lack of denial flies over your head. Even objectively, no one could deny Johnny's a fucking dream come true. The big blue eyes and the charming smile make a killer blow, but Simon has watched him sleep and nothing else quite compares. 

“It just adds to his charm, Si.”

He doesn’t like the teasing edge to your words. He's not your friend , you're not supposed to be teasing him about someone else. It makes him squirm on his chair, avoiding your eyes from the other side of the table. 

“To each their own, love.”

It startles a laugh out of you, bordering on cynical. Simon doesn’t understand what the fuck is happening. 

-

“I could very well break your damn arm if I wanted to, McTavish.”

Threats stopped working a long, long time ago, just a few seconds after meeting each other. Johnny has been able to see through him from the get go. 

“And I couldn't?” Simon tilts his head, conceding the point. “But ya wouldn't hurt me.”

God, Simon sure fucking hopes so.

“You're a valuable asset to my team, of course I wouldn't.”

(I can’t live without you. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can't .)

Johnny's hand is pressed to his chest, and Simon forgets for a few seconds that there are other men standing inside the same room, thinking he doesn’t notice them staring as soon as he got inside.

“Ya love me, jackass.”

Simon gulps. “I'd love for you to shut up .”

Johnny pushes him up and to the side. Simon will sustain for the rest of his life that he let him, that he put his guard down on purpose. It's easier than admitting he got lost in complicated living, that things got too real there, that a few words threw him off his balance.

He grabs Johnny's forearm and pulls , sending him tumbling towards the mat with a sneer. He doesn’t waste a second, turning back around and kicking at Simon's feet. He barely dodges it when Johnny manages to grab his shirt to pull him down with him again, and he loses against gravity. 

His arms are big and hard, Simon knows. Sometimes he can see the creases of muscle on his back, when laundry has fallen behind and Johnny has to wear clothes from his rookie days. A few pounds lighter, in every way possible. 

“Y'gonna hurt me, L.t.?”

Simon is on top of him, hot and huge and shaking like a fucking leaf. He can feel the dampness seeping from Johnny's clothes to his, memorizing how he feels pressed against him. 

Simon can’t breathe. 

“I can't.”

And Simon sees it reflected in Johnny's eyes. Something shatters, peeling away the film that separated their skin. He feels the sweat and the pounding inside Johnny's chest, can hear his own drown any noise outside, the tension snapping in the middle of a spar, and Simon doesn’t understand where he went wrong. 

You're looking at them from the door. 

#i can’t function #ur the greatest writer wow #love it here

ESCAPE FROM TOKYO. // HEARTLESS.

you got me tattooed on your mind, you just want me all the time.

+ wc. 2.4k.

+ synopsis. you just wanted his attention. he just wanted your affection.

+ cw. mutual pining. car sex. alcohol mention. dirty talk. dictation(?) kink. asphyxiation. orgasm denial. orgasm control. spit kink. heavy themes of infidelity.

+ a/n. first installment of escape from tokyo! i needed a break from smc, something less plot driven and a little more fun to write while i work on that on the side, and that’s how eft was born. also, i wanted to try a different take on sanzu. a lot of people tend to focus on his more...blatantly wild side and i wanted to write him a teensy bit...subdued, in a sense. i hope it came across that way. i hope everyone enjoys! reblogs + feedback are appreciated. as always, 18+, minors do not interact.

+ playlist. taglist. masterlist.

+ special thanks to @spidermilfs for beta-ing for me! ily silvi <3

Sanzu's not too sure what kind of witch you are to cast such a spell on him, but you must be a powerful one to have him lusting after you like this.

He watches you from the rim of his glass, the neon lights in the club shimmering over your skin and encasing you in an artificial halo of blue and purple. Purple irises never waver, locked onto the sway of your hips even when he sets down his glass to lean back in the soft suede couch. Someone comes over, a bottle service girl who bats her lashes as she offers to top off his drink once more, but he waves her off without acknowledgement. She frowns and he doesn't care. He's too enraptured with the beautiful being that turned towards him, colored crystals for eyes and a sticky smattering of lip gloss over plush lips.

The way his heart thumped against his chest was inhumane. You were inhumane. You had to be to have this kind of effect on him.

Not only that, but you were dangerous. You were poison, something to stay away from as best he could like a toxic chemical in a dangerous lab. But like most dangerous chemicals, you were sweet. Alluring to his eye, causing him to salivate at the thought of you. You reminded him of his favorite narcotics-- terrible for his health, likely to get him killed, but damn difficult to say no to.

He convinced himself that was the reason why he stretched out, offering his open lap when you sauntered over. It was your pull on him, nothing more.

"Zuzu," You drawled and Sanzu licked his lips, signature smirk already pulling at the scarred corners. "You're giving me that look again."

His eyebrow twitches upwards as he looks down at you through thick lashes. "What look, princess?"

"You know," You squirm a little and he thinks it's the cutest thing. Your nails knock against his buttons lightly, sheepish expression on your lips as you bit your lip and hummed. "that look...the look you give me when you want something."

"Oh?"

Sanzu chuckled. He licks his lips, purple eyes leaving your figure for a split second to survey the area. His rings tapped against the back of the leather couch, fingers rapping against the material. "I do want something. I want a couple things, actually. Think you can help me out?"

"Like what?" Your voice tried to hold back its obvious excitement and failed. You were just so fucking cute, he could barely hold himself back sometimes. He took his time looking back at you, dragging slowly across the outline of your figure before finally, finally gracing you with an answer.

"I wanna leave this place." He mutters, trained on your expression. Your eyes never left his face, flickering between the way his mouth moved and the intensity of his own weighty gaze. "Wanna go back to the car and feel that pretty pussy on my fingers. I want to watch your cute face make the cutest expressions for me tonight. Think you can help me out with that?"

You two were out of the club in less than ten minutes.

It's risky. Sanzu knows it is. But he wouldn't be Sanzu if he gave a fuck.

He's partly grateful for the partition and the confidentiality clause his driver is forced under. The second you two duck into the awaiting limo your hands are already timidly twitching, innocently grazing over his thigh and your lashes flutter as you bat doe-like eyes at him in wanton. Subtlety wasn't something particularly observed between you two in private. There was no reason to be subtle. You both were iniquitous in your own right and Sanzu was akin to Satan when he felt like it. He'd drink in your sin gleefully, uncaring of whatever happened to him afterwards.

His hand snaked up your thighs in moments, wasting no time to knead and pull at the soft, supple skin. His touch makes you shiver; something that makes him smile, scars on the corners of his lips stretching as his tongue licks over glorious white teeth. His thumb, rough and calloused, smooths over the skin as he leans in.

"You want me." He whispers. It's declarative, assured, set and confident with no room to deny its validity. He watches you, eyes trained intently at the way you shudder under him, jerky and timid when you nod.

"I do."

"How bad do you want me?"

This time it looks for affirmation. Consent, in a way, movements on your thighs lulling into thumbed circles on the tops as he awaits your answer. You inhale, diaphragm opening and chest rising, breasts pressing into the satin cloth of your expensive little dress. Dior, he thinks it is.

"Badly."

"That so?" He breathes in deeply. You smell like Chanel No.5 and that ridiculously expensive drink you had him buy earlier. The grin settles on his face, teeth dragging over his full bottom lip before he hums out a chuckle. His hand moves up, ghosting dangerously close to your heat, causing your fists to clench, heartbeat pitter pattering quicker in your chest. "Want you to show me, okay? Show me just how bad you want me. Make it worth my while, pretty girl."

His fingers bump against you and you gasp softly, met with an eyebrow raise from him. "Where's your underwear?" He questions, index trailing on the puffy, soft skin. You shake your head, thighs falling open a little wider. "Didn't wear any."

"You didn't?" He tuts, index tracing over the warm lips. "Racy little thing aren't you? What would your boyfriend say if he knew you did that, hm?"

It comes out with a mocking tinge of jealousy. Your boyfriend. Mikey. His boss. The man he devoted his life to without care or thought of consequence. The man he was most loyal and devoted to, more than he was to his own family. Your boyfriend. His Mikey.

Sick, he thought, grin tugging wide on the corner of his lips. Sick that he liked the thought of this so much. This, meaning you, silently inviting him into the warmth of your soft, sacred body, allowing him to defile your temple for what could always be his last time.

You didn’t speak. You never did when he brought up your salacious affair. Instead you opted to whine, eyebrows turning down at the ends while you gripped his jacket, tugging him close to ghost on the swells of your barely glossy lips. Sanzu sticks his tongue out, tip dragging along the fat of your bottom lip, artificial taste of cherries flooding over his receptors. His tongue flicks upwards, over the outline of your top lip, before he dips into your awaiting mouth that drops open slightly more as a result of his fingers now tapping lightly against your previously neglected clit.

“Are you this needy for him too?”

He doesn’t allow you the luxury of thinking of an answer.

His middle finger taps against your clit once more before dragging its calloused length down the sensitive bud, revelling in the way your lip quivers and nails try desperately to break through the delicate hem of his suit. He drags it upwards again until the curve sits on the pad of his finger, and slowly he circles it around. The other hand drags up your body, groping the supple flesh of your tits on its way up, drumming along your collarbone and grazing your neck before his fingers splay and stretch and lock around your jaw. They press inwards gently, enough for you to feel their weighty pressure as he looks down and coos at you.

“Do you make this gorgeous face for him too, princess?”

Your eyes are glassy and glossed over, and in each passing light Sanzu can see the glimmer of the spit accumulating over your tongue. His fingers press into your cheeks, holding your mouth open wider and immediately your tongue stretches forward, pink muscle dripping in clear saliva that dangles from its tip and oozes down your chin. He leans close, forehead nearly bumping against yours as his lips pucker and purse before a clear bead heads from between the soft pink folds. His eyes train and ears perk up at the way your breath hitches, tongue writhing before stilling, fan of lashes dipping down as your own eyes lock onto the trailing liquid seep from his mouth down onto yours. Then, finally, the bead hits your tongue and your lashes flutter as your eyes roll back, but your tongue stays out. Obediently. Just how he trained you.

“Look at me and swallow.”

Sanzu thinks he sees his life in your eyes when you look up at him once more. He can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine, nor the way his grip flexes and tightens for a brief second before travelling down to your neck when your tongue dips inwards and your mouth closes, lips pursing before your throat closes and moves beneath his grip. You open your mouth again, dry of any residue, and he rewards you with a kiss.

“Good girl.”

Sanzu’s spurred on by reactions. He loves to see what he does to people, how he makes them feel. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t derive some kind of iniquitous pleasure from controlling the amount of pain his victims felt. It’s why he was so good at torturing people, why Bonten garnered the name it got. He loved to see the control he had over someone. He loved to be in control of something no one should have control over.

His infatuation with you was inevitable, he supposed. You were just too good. You couldn’t hold back how you felt if you tried.

It’s reminded when the fingers around your throat press in, squeezing until your breathing is reduced to a soft wheeze, blood pounding in your ears. At the same time he’s pushing into you, thick finger stretching your sodden hole and the sensation is delicious as it is welcomed and familiar. Your eyes flutter and roll, chest raising, sticky sounds of slick gently popping in the air. Sanzu hums in approval, slowly easing in and taking his time at first, just to see you cave.

“There it is,” he comments slickly, licking at his canines. “There’s that face I love so much.”

His fingers flex, drawing back and before you have a chance to whine he shoves it in again, this time middle joined with his ring finger. His palm slaps against your clit with each skilled thrust and the pads of his fingertips curve inwards, nestling against the top of your walls, right against that spot he knew made you shake. And you did, thighs quivering and gentle little moans falling from trembling lips, sloppy sounds of growing slick making you shiver in delight. Sanzu knew your body better than anything else and every time he got the chance to play with you he reminded you.

“Zuzu,” you mewl cutely and his dick throbs in his pants. He squeezes your throat tighter, feeling the way your walls pulse and suck around his fingers. He dips to your face to kiss your cheek, panting in your ear soon after.

“Think I should let you cum on my fingers, princess?” He nibbles on your earlobe. “Think I should make a mess of your pussy and send you home to him?”

“Sanzu,” you weakly call out and he knows you’re in no state to answer. His movements sink into you and don’t pull out, instead opting to draw out your high by massaging right into that needy spot. It’s mind melting, causing your toes to curl in your heels and you try best to gasp out. The feeling in your head is light now in the best way, lack of oxygen and his ministrations the closest thing to ecstasy you’d gotten all night. But Sanzu knows it’s not enough. He knows his prodding only keeps that building feeling from falling and nothing more. It doesn’t elevate it, it doesn’t let it fall, it keeps it sustained. Pleasure keeps coursing through your body, making your pussy wetter and wetter by the moment but that’s all. It’s never enough to make you cum.

He can’t. Well..not today.

You’re nearing Mikey’s penthouse now and he knows his time with you is winding up. He knows he has to let you go to your rightful man, and selfishly he grows to dislike it. With his hands perusing the landscape of your body he’s reluctant to let you go, but he knows he has to. So, first, he releases the grip around your neck, careful not to bruise the skin.

He swipes across your gumminess one more time before pulling out slowly, hissing at the web of slick that pulls across his fingers. He can’t help himself; dipping the same fingers into his mouth he moans at the taste, own lashes brushing against his cheeks as he savored over your syrup. He pulls away only to place a kiss to your lips again, grinning at your slightly fucked out expression. He dips between your legs and smacks your pussy lightly a few times, chuckling at the yelp you make when his ring taps against your clit.

“Go on.” He mutters with a sigh as the car pulls in front of Mikey’s complex. “Take his pussy home to him. He’s got better use for it than I do.”

He watches you from behind lidded eyes as you pull yourself together with a nod, sparing him a short kiss to his scar before you dip out of the car to the other bodyguard assigned to escort you to Mikey’s room. You wobble, be it from being finger fucked to hell or from the alcohol Sanzu couldn’t tell, but the possibility of it being from him has him smirking to himself nonetheless. He sighs to himself when you look back, now ways away from the car, and turns his eyes to examine the watch on his wrist.

You were something unearthly. Only that could explain the foreign sliver of jealousy that bloomed dark over his already charred heart. Jealous that you’d give yourself to Mikey once more. Jealous that Sanzu hadn’t claimed you before his boss did. Jealous, most of all, that in spite of, he’d be crawling back to you the second your pretty eyes and lopsided smile flashed in his direction again, a silent beg to indulge himself in you once more.

“Take me home.” He pulls across the partition and calls out to the driver, who simply nods and follows his instruction. All Sanzu could do now was wait on your call once more.

Some kind of witch indeed.

taglist: @shiwhore @miytsuya @kugoinks @sanzudopeamine @risano @zvchinni @scummy-simp @h-a-r-u-c-h-i-y-o @chloe-nanami @ssanzuu @chsetlantc @rinrinfoxy @shigarakistomura

crossed out names couldn't be tagged!

Yes hi, I just wanted to tell you that your bad boy Aone is PERFECTION. I usually prefer the gentle giants (hence why Aone is one of my favorite characters!) but the way you wrote him as a bad boy had me drooling haha!

i am so happy you liked it! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡ i think he’s a dreamboat, gentle giants are my fav too. it was my first time writing so im actually fangirling, thank you!!

PATCH SIX UPDATE COMING NEXT WEEK - SPOILER BELOW

It is finally happening my fellow Astarion and BG3 lovers! The long-awaited new patch is on its way (probably arriving on Valentines day but this is not confirmed).

Larian confirmed new KISS ANIMATIONS will be coming as well as camp idle animations and multiple bug fixes!

Here's an example of one of the kiss animations involving Astarion and Halsin for all those #halstarion fans:

You can read Larian's Twitter/X post here.

Are you excited??

jjk men zipping up your dress

REBLOG MY WORK.

warnings : suggestive, light fluff, tension

a/n : something i did to my girl bestfriend the other day and it made me gay. also i didnt k is what to call this so… the name is misleading but 🧍🏽‍♀️

GOJO

“satoruuuu, can you please help me?” you whines prettily. gojo straightened up, looking at you away from the netflix tv show that kept him occupied.

“yeah. what’s up, baby?” he asked. you came closer, tiny little crop to sticking to your skin while the material of your jeans hugged your hips a little too tightly.

“i think i got them a size too small, baby. they won’t fit and i don’t wanna wear any other jeans with this top.”

gojo motioned you forward, leaning over to work his thin, long fingers around the buttons of your jeans.

these weren’t regular jeans. they were the ones with four buttons as a replacement for your zipper.

your panties peaked from underneath, if they could be even called that. you wore your thong out of your jeans today, showing off the cute dior imprint on the sides.

“toru, hurry up. i’m getting late!” you whined. gojo ignored your protest, squeezing your ass closer to him to make it fit inside your jeans.

“babe, if it wasn’t for your ass, this would’ve gone in perfectly ya know?” you rolled your eyes. fingers slowly trailing into his white hair, you tugged lightly while he worked four buttons through each hole.

you leaned back, getting annoyed at how long he was taking. you swung your hips side to side, a small habit when you felt bored.

but you were knocked out of your gaze when gojo pulled you roughly by the belt loop. you heard a thread snap and you looked down in shock.

his blue cerulean eyes stared up at you, blown wide open with lust and dominance.

“stop. moving.” he repeated.

you listened to him. not moving another inch as he pulled you closer using a finger hooked around a belt hoop.

TOJI

“tojiiiii, can you get this for me?” you said as you went up to your boyfriend. you turned around, showing him the extremely backless dress you wore. he raised his eyebrow, smiling to himself.

“you goin’ somewhere, pretty?” he asked. you nodded your head.

“i’m going out with shoko and utahime.” you chirped.

“mmm, dressed like this? coulda thought you was out to fuck other guys.”

his comment left a sour taste in your mouth. pulling away, you looked at him sadly, lip a little wobbly because how could he think of you like that?

he smirked at your distressed expression.

“i’m only messin’ wit ya.” you crossed your arms over your chest, still mad.

but toji knew how to make it right. he grabbed each wrist, pulling your arms around his neck and lifting your chin up so you could look up at him.

“look at me, babygirl.” he spoke in his husky voice.

you looked up, eyebrows still furrowed.

“you’re so fuckin’ cute with that face, ya know that? thinkin’ that it’ll really make a difference at all.” he crooned.

“shut up, toji. it wasn’t funny.”

“i think it was, babydoll.” he leaned in to your neck, pressing soft kisses around the column of your neck, right below your ear. you found it difficult to not gasp, breathing a little heavier as you tried to push at his shoulders.

toji wrapped his hands around the silky thread that ran across the span of your back, tugging it tightly while pulling you against his chest.

you gasped.

“ ‘m not done yet, where you think you’re goin’?” the deep timbre of his voice made your thighs press together, trying to hold in a squeak.

you felt your dress stick to your body tighter and together until a small snap was heard and your dress was all good to go.

toji pulled away, raising an eyebrow at your now pushed up tits.

he flicked your forehead softly, walking away to go back to whatever he was doing.

SUKUNA

“kuna, how do you do this??” you asked.

you walked up to him, almost tripping in the cloth that pooled around you.

he looked down from his throne, brows squinting as he saw your tiny form in a haori that was much too large for you.

he sighed..

“why are you wearing my haori, you bumbling fool?”

you tilted your head, looking down at the cloth that was wrapped around you, engulfing you in linens and silks.

“what?” you chittered.

“what exactly are you trying to achieve, brat?” his voice low and venomous.

“i just wanted to look pretty in a kimono.” you cried.

“well, that isn’t a kimono, for starters.” he sighed, watching your eyes tear up a little at the little mistake you had made.

within seconds, he appeared before you, a deep red kimono in hand.

his calloused hands pulled down his haori, exposing your shoulders to him. you blushed now, feeling more than exposed.

“k-kuna, what are you doing?” you asked.

“shut up. i’m aiding you.”

you kept quiet, fidgeting around a little until he raised his eyebrow at you, silently telling you to stop moving.

the haori was long gone and your body was naked and bare before him. he didn’t dare touch you slyly, though. his hands only grazed where needed and his eyes never left the fabric, not daring to look at anything he wasn’t supposed to.

his hands pulled the kimono taught around you, fixing it around your shoulders and then taking the obi to wrap around.

“life your arms.”

you did as told, lifting your arms and making a T-pose.

he worked the obi around you neatly, finishing off with a small brush to your side and a step back to admire his work.

“you look… presentable.” as he cringed.

you knew he just meant that you looked beautiful.

GETO

your roommate was the only available help you currently had. it was an awkward situation you got yourself stuck into.

“hey uhh, geto, can you please uhh zip this up?” you asked meekly.

he got up quickly, coming around so you could see each other in the mirror. you moved your hair to the side so it wouldn’t get stuck in the zipper.

he inhaled sharply, staring at the tramp stamp at the end of your back. it was cute, he thought.

he pulled your body back roughly, “sorry, my bad.” he wasn’t sorry.

you nodded, letting him carry on with the annoying zipper that just wouldn’t go up. his cold hands touched your back, making you arch away from him.

“sorry.” once again, he was not sorry in the slightest.

his heavy fingers played with the zipper a bit, trying to even it out so it could move up and down smoothly. a part of him could feel in his chest that you did this on purpose.

you probably wanted him to lay his plush lips along the juncture of your neck, kissing the skin and marring it with reminders of him.

but he pushed those thoughts away, reaching all the way down to where the waistband of your panties were, playing around with the zipper until it finally came up.

“mmm, there you go.” he said, but not before giving you a look through the mirror that made you regret not grabbing and kissing him.

CHOSO

you decided to head to the beach with your boyfriend today. you were tired and figured you needed a day off before getting back to work.

you packed your skimpiest bikini that left little to the imagination and left for a two hour beach drive.

things would’ve gone smoothly until the elastic on your swimsuit snapped.

you rushed across the sand, running to your boyfriend.

“choso, choso, my swimsuit snapped!” you whisper shouted.

he got to work quickly, putting a hand on your waist to pull your back against him. something about how rushed his actions were did something to you. a fire brewed in your belly as you thought that other people could see how close he was standing next to you, more than half naked while your tits almost flew out of your swimsuit.

“mm, maybe i’ll have gojo rent a private beach for us.” choso hummed behind you.

“why’s that?” you asked.

“so i can fuck you completely naked on the beach, obviously.”

your face turned red. “choso!” you shouted. he chuckled behind you, bending down to kiss at your neck. he bit the skin lightly, nipping just enough for you to let a small moan out.

“mmm, you’re not ashamed that others could hear, princess?” you shook your head, knowing he’d find it cute if you tried to lie.

“i should just untie this thing and fuck you right here.”

NANAMI

you were excited to wear a ball gown today. it was the first ball you were attending as kento had been invited and you were his date.

he purchased a beautiful white gown with golden accents. “for you.” he had left it on your bed with a note asking you to come down once you were done getting ready.

but if only it were that easy to wear a ball gown…

the top was a corset and you honestly had no idea how to even wear a corset. you whined as your arms got tired and you gave up trying to put this damn thing on.

there was a knock at your door.

“y/n, what’s going on?”

it was nanami. you felt a little hot. your boobs and your back was nearly out and he was the only one who could help with this current dilemma of yours.

you shook the thoughts from your head, reaching forward to open the door to let him in.

he gasped.

“oh.”

he spoke. you cringed, letting yourself curl inwards. “do i truly look that bad?” you asked.

nanami shook his head. “not in the slightest, but darling what’s going on with the back of the dress?”

you sighed, “i don’t know how to wear a corset.”

he chuckled, walking behind you and facing you in the mirror.

there was something intimate about this moment.

he used his front to push you straight against the dressing table, your mouth letting out a gasp. he pushed you down by the shoulder, acting calm and collected while your panties gained an extra layer of wetness.

you watched him in the mirror as he wrapped his hands over and over the bands of the corset until he finally pulled back really tight.

you felt the wind knock out of your legs, but you weren’t sure for which reason.

was it the lack of rooms your lungs had or how tight you were against nanami’s back?

he chuckled, tying the strings at the bottom of your waist, pulling away with just a gentle kiss on your temple like he wasn’t just in perfect position to fuck you.

REBLOG MY WORK.

taglist form.

©️ tohokuu. do not steal or plagiarize.

OOOF grumpy x sunshine trope but spin it around and make it nanami and reader being ta’s to their college prof who has over 600 students in his class rahhh…. him being clueless as to why you’re such a magnet for the younger, more bright-eyed students and have more of them request you to have a peer-review but he thinks it’s merely because of your looks. he, and quite literally everyone on campus, would have rocks for brains if they considered you anything less of lovely and fair when it comes to the eye (he totallyyy says that in a factual sense, not a complimentary one though, trust him), so nanami merely believes the reason as to why his students refuse to meet his eye and ask boring questions is because he’s overshadowed by you—you coddle them all too much and probably give them the answer without much though merely because it’s easier.

he doesn’t get it, even when your students praise you and your teaching methods—which were just elementary simplifications of the material. it’s only when his student furrows their brows and their confusion unwavering, telling him for the nth time that “(y/n) does it this way though, why are you making it more complicated…” that he sighs and gives up, telling them offhandedly that they can just seek you out if that’s what they want. he’s perturbed by how only when he mentions your name, that’s the only time his student actually seems a little happier.

he doesn’t get it, even as he’s staring at you waiting for your coffee in the campus coffee shop—why so many people pass you by with a smile and a wave or why the barista draws a cute kitty cat on your cup that makes you laugh lightly, the sound drawing in a soft pink on the barista’s cheeks. you carry a tray of two cups of coffees, the other supposedly for the professor so you can suck up to him more and get that stubborn letter of recommendation he’ll give only a scarce population.

he doesn’t get it, even as you walk in the classroom after him, a halo of light only invisible to him beaming around you that attracts “hi!”s and “good morning!”s from all over the lecture hall, a stark contrast to his own presence in which his greetings consisted of eye flickers and occasional quiet head nods.

he doesn’t get it, even as you gently nudge a cup of coffee into his hands—wait, huh?

nanami silently turns to you, confusion bespeckling his countenance at the cat-scribbled cup that amused you earlier.

“one sugar with a splash of soy milk, right?” you inquire with a light grin. you’re right… that indeed is his usual order but how did you—

“i overheard you saying to your friend—what was his name? haiba? haibara?—on friday about your coffee order after class, so,” you gesture to the cup in his hands. “i thought you’d might want that this morning.”

“oh,” nanami chokes out, the warmth on his cheeks beginning to replicate the one in his palm. “… thank you, but you didn’t have to.”

you shrugged. “i didn’t, but i wanted to. it’s the little things that matter, y’know?”

you give him one last grin before unpacking your things and making light conversation with your peers about your weekend, detailing “oh yeah! you mentioned that museum awhile ago! how’d it go?” and “i’m not sure visiting a cat cafe would be good for your allergies…” along the way.

and when he sips his gifted coffee, finding there to be a little more richness than usual, the world seems just a tad bit better.

he blames it on the caffeine, though.

𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘴𝘫𝘴𝘩𝘧𝘣𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘺𝘢!

acting a little flirty with other bonten members while you're dating sanzu in hopes of making him jealous enough to drag you out of the room so he could fuck you. except you don't realize that sanzu is actually the type of jealous that consists of putting his gun to your head or taking you up to the roof and holding you dangerously close to the edge until you're crying and pleading, promising that you'll never do it again. things can never just be simple with him.