walking into the bathroom, you see your boyfriend yuji holding up the new box of condoms you had purchased for him the other day.
you glance at the backside of the box, then back at him. "uh, it's a box of condoms? you're supposed to put them on before we have sex so that–"
"i know what they do, dummy." he flips the box around, showing you the frontside. "i'm asking why these ones."
you take a step forward. "what, you don't like the brand? i mean i kind of picked the first one i saw so.. i didn't know condom brands were so important to you."
yuji lifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, then running that same hand over his face with a defeated sigh.
"no no, i'm talking about the size you bought, babe."
your arms cross over your chest. "the size? what wrong with it?"
he huffs, clearly flustered. "you got extra small."
a deafening silence engulfs the bathroom.
"...and the problem?"
yuji's eyes widen as he slams the box down onto the counter, causing some of the other miscellaneous items to jump up. "BABE. YOU GOT EXTRA SMALL. I'M NOT AN EXTRA SMALL?!????"
unable to contain yourself, you glance down at his crotch, dramatically squinting your eyes before looking back at him. then, with all the nonchalance you can muster, you give him a half-shrug.
"i dunno. it seemed like it'd fit when i looked at the picture."
your boyfriend was appalled. did his own girlfriend seriously think that he was an EXTRA small?? not even a regular small? EXTRA SMALL????
"you've got to be joking. are you fucking with me? if so, you're not funny."
you walked over to where he was standing and looked down at the box, trying not to chuckle.
"i don't see the problem? you're complaining about the size, but have you even tried to put one on?" you drop your arms, placing one hand on your hip.
he stares at you. "no i haven't, because i'll just be opening the box for nothing and then you won't be able to return it."
"return it? yuji why would i need to–"
"is this my fault?" he questions, placing two fingers on his chin to think deeply. "have i not been fucking you correctly? do i feel small to you? because i swear that's not what you tell me. you always say that it's too much."
your face heats up. embarrassed by his lack of filter, you decide it's time to end the joke. "yuji, i–"
"or–!" he (unfortunately) starts again. "is this your way of saying you wanna go raw? i mean, we've been together long enough... if that's what you want, then i'm happy to listen!"
"yu–"
he closes the gap between you two, his hands settling on your waist. "it's okay baby. from today onward, i promise that we can go raw."
you stare at him, almost speechless. "yu... that's not what i was–"
your words fall on his deaf grandpa ears. he was already determined to fulfill your every sexual wish. you sigh, placing your hands on his wrists.
"yuji, honey, i was just playing with you. the real ones are in my–"
"shhhh." he gently tucks your hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.
"don't worry love, there's no need to be embarrassed. i got the hint, so i'll make sure to not wear one tonight!"
oh, for the love of god.
a/n: i kept seeing smau's of the reader purposely buying their s/o the wrong condom size so i wanted to write abt it😇 hmo on silly modulo yuji guys...👀 i believe that yuji before his friends started dying never lost his spark and and continued to act the same as always🫶🏾 (i promise ill lock in and write him fr next time...)
Content: contrary to popular belief, the fire lord can't have everything he wants. however, even he’d admit that what he wanted was troublesome in itself, which is why he forces himself to be okay with having you by his side as his advisor. [tw: MDNI, angst/fluff/smut, apothecary diaries coded, so much yearning and longing, porn with plot, there is no power imbalance he’s afraid of your father, zuko’s a little shit tho, we’re already married in his head] wc: 4.8k
m.list | chapter one | next chapter
“You want me to do your hair?”
His lips twitch, fighting back a smile. “Yes, precisely.”
You sigh as you step into the man’s chambers, walking up to the vanity that’s more fitting for a queen, in your opinion. If only people saw this side of the fire lord. Zuko, the pretty boy. He has zero insecurities over the scar his tyrant of a father left on his face, but he’d faint at the sight of seeing too much hair shed on the marble floors of his bathhouse.
“When you decide to have me summoned like this, do you ever wonder, hm— what would her father think?” you ask as you grudgingly pick up the boar bristle brush and begin to brush his hair.
“I do,” he dryly responds. “I like the way you do your hair, though, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell on me. You wouldn’t want me getting in trouble, right?”
Zuko might be the fire lord, but he still has to watch his relationships with the other clans in this nation— especially with a certain hot-headed strategist that just so happens to be your father. You can only imagine his outburst upon learning that his daughter is playing with the lord's hair, rather than playing your role as his advisor.
Most fathers would be pleased by the information— not yours, he’s a little more… strict. He already doesn’t like him from a joke made over a decade ago, suggesting you’d make a fine concubine, which wasn’t taken lightly.
Your father threatened to usurp the throne, sending a chill running down a then 21 year old Zuko’s spine.
There was no way in hell he’d hand you off to the imperial palace to become a concubine. You’re the only child of his that inherited firebending. If your father had it his way, you’d be a warrior, for fucks sake.
Lord Zuko may have a dry sense of humor at times, but you have your doubts about how much of a joke that statement was, especially with how much he likes to bug you throughout the day.
Perhaps another conflict should erupt— the man has too much time on his hands. Maybe then you’d fulfill your fathers wish of finally working in the military— put your talents to use, as he’d say.
But would Lord Zuko allow the gentle hands running through his hair to commit such violence? Or would that be when he’d draw a hard line with the aggressive strategist?
As progressive as he is, you sometimes wonder just how much it extends to you. Even as children, he’d go easy on you during trainings. He’s only grown softer with you as the years passed. Despite not being a concubine yourself, you wouldn’t be surprised if he saw you as one of the flowers in his garden— one he’s not allowed to touch.
You slide the hair stick through his headpiece, securing the top knot he had you redo. It looks the same, but you hold off on making a comment. “Is that better?”
“Much better.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror, lips curving into a sly smile. “Now— what are we doing today?”
We. You hate how much he likes to emphasize that at times.
“Well,” you sigh. “Aside from the usual council meeting, nothing much. Perhaps you can visit one of your concubines today… for once.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Are you saying I don’t fuck my concubines enough?”
“Precisely,” you say almost mockingly.
It’s all they ever complain about, and honestly, you’re sure you would, too, if you were one of them. Having to wake up and sit around all day, waiting for a man who never comes. And on the rare occasion that he does, he doesn’t stay long. He’ll show up, fuck the shit out of you for a couple rounds, then leave right after. Allegedly.
“Don’t you want an heir?” you ask.
“Depends,” he hums.
With the way he’s looking at you, you can already tell what it depends on, and it has nothing to do with his current concubines. Lucky for you, he never gets the chance to actually say it because he gets interrupted right after, putting a conversation you’d rather not have to a screeching halt.
“The council is waiting for you, my Lord.”
—
The silk district was notoriously known for two things: brothels and bandits. It was the wild, wild west compared to the other districts in the capital due to high crime and the growing wealth gap. The governments always kept a watchful eye on it, which was never enough in your opinion.
Are you surprised to hear that an entire brothel, including the madame, was discovered to be slain and robbed in the early hours of this morning? Absolutely not.
“Send more military officers to patrol the area,” the chamberlain says without hesitation. “We’ve been too lenient with them. If they want bloodshed, we’ll give them bloodshed.”
Yikes, he wants to rule the area with an iron fist when they’re already clearly struggling. You can’t help but think of how much of a dictator this guy would be if he were in Zuko’s place.
You make eye contact with the lord, who’s sitting at the end of the table right next to you. In that brief moment, he notices the concern in your eyes and gives you a subtle nod.
“Perhaps we can send more public aid?” you suggest. “They’ve been testing out a new rehabilitation program in Republic City as well. I’m sure the Silk District could benefit from—“
“Nonsense,” the chamberlain cuts you off, wondering why you’re even here right now— he thought you only assisted in matters within the court, not outside of it. “I-“
“Careful,” Zuko interrupts the man rather playfully as he continues to read through the scroll. “That’s the military strategist’s daughter you’re speaking to.”
The comment makes you nearly roll your eyes, knowing the only reason why he said it was because you’re having to constantly remind him yourself when he gets too close.
The chamberlain, however, straightens up immediately. You have no idea why it took him this long to realize it. He’s been here for nearly a year now, but at least he knows now. The chamberlain can be quite rude at times, you wouldn’t want him to slip up with your father in the room. Not only would that earn him an earful of insults that are as creative as they are hurtful, but it’d also be embarrassing on your part.
That old man embarrasses you enough when he’s around. Following you around like a lost puppy after meetings, asking if you’ve eaten and if your superiors are treating you right, while side eyeing the fire lord himself. You’d agree so yourself that he has too much power in the court. He enjoys holding it over everyone’s head even more. It’s sickening, really.
You look at the chamberlain, who is now pouting, and offer an apologetic smile. “May I continue?”
“Yes, of course,” the old man nods, struggling to hide his shame.
Always one for games, Zuko finds himself suppressing a laugh, which in turn makes the chamberlain’s slouch worsen. He’s grown to find more and more amusement in his daily tasks, a trait his father would definitely disapprove of— good thing he’s not here anymore.
The rest of the meeting went by as smoothly, with the fire lord, of course, praising the chancellor in the end for being so well behaved, pretending to wonder what could’ve changed his usual demeanor. The usual teasings, all while you once again found yourself thinking of how light he’s become. Even after receiving such upsetting news, he stayed calm while finding a solution.
A humane one.
No longer the grumpy, angsty boy you grew up with. He’s actually quite charming. But you keep that to yourself.
The palace grounds are empty, as they should be during the afternoon. Everyone’s off either eating, napping, or tending to duties such as cooking or cleaning. It’s quiet, surprisingly peaceful. Your footsteps echo throughout the breezeway as Zuko defies the basic etiquette of walking ahead of you as a ruler should. Instead, the bastard walks a little slower than you. If given the opportunity, he’d turn it into a mini competition of who could walk the slowest, up until you both come to a full stop, with him looking at you all smug.
“Your chambers are this way,” you remind the said bastard as if he’d already forgotten.
He doesn’t bother to look back as he responds, walking down a gravel path leading directly to the flower garden. “How about we take a detour today, hm?”
You watch him for a moment, waiting to see if he’d stop. He doesn’t, and you shouldn’t be surprised by it. You’re able to catch up with him in just seconds given his slow pace, this time not bothering to walk behind him as he’s clearly in the mood to be extra stubborn today.
You’re all alone and away from the hearing distance of anyone else, yet you still choose to speak quietly as you start to gently tease the man. “What a surprise to see the king taking some time to enjoy his garden.”
He lets out a soft laugh that fades into a hum. “Only around a select few.”
“Oh, wow,” you pretend to be impressed. “How charitable.”
“It’s an honor that you think so,” he says, placing a hand over his chest to add to the theatrics, trying not to laugh once again. “Tell me, when was the last time you walked through here?”
You hum as you walk further into the sprawling garden filled with wooden arches covered with green vines and flowers in full bloom. “Can’t say I actually remember when.”
“That’s a shame. I had the gardener plant new rose bushes,” he murmurs. “Wanted to ask what you thought of them.”
“I think they’re lovely,” you admit, softly pinching a petal, rubbing your thumb over the velvety skin.
He smiles. “I figured.”
They were your favorite after all.
Why is he like this? The garden’s already filled with enough flowers. A new section wasn’t needed.
Again, he’s just bored.
In an attempt to keep the conversation from getting any more personal, you change the subject. “Are you looking forward to your trip to Republic City?”
At the end of the meeting, it was decided that he’d visit with the purpose of getting more information about the new rehabilitation program the city was rolling out. While the chancellor wanted to take a more aggressive approach, he decided to take a more peaceful route. It’s admirable how hands on he’s chosen to be since taking his father's place.
“Mhm. It’ll be nice catching up with some old friends while I’m there—“ he cuts himself off and looks at you with slight suspicion, “you’re going, right?”
You never said you would, nor did you want to, honestly. It’d be nice to take a break. “I’m sure you and some of your subordinates can handle it.”
“Weren’t you the one who came up with the idea, though?” his tone slightly clips as he reminds you.
“I was,” you respond tentatively, taking back your thoughts from earlier as you look him in the eyes.
This man looks like he’s about to throw a fit.
Zuko opens his mouth again, already knowing he shouldn’t be this pushy towards you, of all people, but he is far from perfect.
So with a forced smile and all the resolve in the world, he murmurs, “you’re going.”
You smile back despite feeling an annoyed heat creep up your neck, heart starting to pick up. “Alright.”
—
Imagine being the fire lord, a literal ruler, and getting the cold shoulder from your own advisor. Every answer is so curt and clinical, and it’s going to drive him up the wall.
Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord. Apologies, my lord.
Give him a fucking break.
As if you weren’t punishing him enough, you went ahead and had two of his concubines “accompany” him on the trip. It’s not like he can say no to that, either, since it’s considered to be one of his duties. Not to mention they both come from high-ranking families that would not be very pleased to hear of their neglect.
So now he has to deal with two spoiled, pent-up brats hanging on him during the entirety of this flight, all while trying not to glare at the biggest brat of them all— you, as you sit directly across from him, reading some pathetic romance novel.
This is fucking ridiculous. You haven’t looked at him once since you first sat down.
You’re no better than him. There was a strike of lightning in the direction you walked off in, and given how it was a perfectly sunny day, he’s pointing his finger at you for the damages done in the east wing, despite keeping his mouth shut on the matter. Complain about being dragged to Republic City all you want, but you still have it better than most. If you really did have it that bad, you would’ve been punished for such an offense.
Like, seriously? Blowing shit up, like a fucking child— a terrifying one, to be frank, you are absolutely your father’s daughter— just because you had to do your job? Grow up. His grandfather’s statue was shattered in the midst of it all, thanks to you. You’re lucky he never liked the bastard.
In protest, you’re dressed like a noble's daughter rather than a member of the court. Wearing the finest silk and adorned in gold imported from the Earth nation, quietly refusing to represent your actual nation as you claim to be representing your clan— proof that you have enough power on your own to be acting like he’s actively denying you of basic human rights.
As if he even cared about your attire. Be his guest! You look fucking hot. Someone might even mistake you for one of his concubines, and he might just not correct them, since you think you’re more petty than he is.
Zuko gets pulled out of his thoughts when Concubine Aika speaks, still leaning against him and rubbing on his chest. She asked what book you were reading, which is when you finally looked up from it.
“It’s sort of an adventure novel.” You look at the cover, speaking to her with a certain warmth you’ve been depriving him of. “It’s about a girl escaping an abusive orphanage once she turns 18 and follows her journey for the next 10 years.”
So now you’re fantasizing about leaving him? Good luck with that.
“You look troubled, my lord,” the woman to his right, Concubine Saiyo, says. She’s leaning against him as well, now tracing her fingers along his jaw. “Are you alright?”
“M’fine,” he murmurs, trying to fix his face as he takes a sip of sake. “It’s been a long flight.”
“There’s a private cabin you can retreat to, if you’d like,” you suggest, going back to your little book, missing the way you just made the lord’s eye twitch.
“I know,” he says.
It’s his airship.
Without warning, he gets up from his seat. Was it a little rude? Perhaps. But surely the two women beside him could understand what feeling hounded could do to someone. They don’t, they do their jobs and get up as well, which he understands. However, Zuko’s not in the fucking mood right now and waves a dismissive hand.
“No need,” he curtly says, making his way to the back of the airship. “I just want to close my eyes for a bit.”
. . . . . .
The trip starts off strong with a banquet being held in honor of the fire lord's arrival.
Contrary to Zuko’s wishes, nobody’s stupid enough to mistake you for one of his concubines. At least not within the circle of people you’re mingling with tonight, who all recognize your family's crest engraved on your hairpin.
They were an ambitious bunch that spread all over once Zuko came into power— reaching amongst the highest positions within the military, medicine, and even education.
Funny enough, your position in the court was nothing special in comparison to some of your relatives’ achievements. Some are even bothered by the fact. Being the first of all your cousins to master the art of firebending, being your grandfather's favorite solely for bending lightning with the same grace as he did in his prime, all while excelling in your studies.
All of that potential, just wasted on being the lord’s “pet”.
You don’t have much of an opinion on the disappointment some of them have expressed in the past, though it would’ve been nice if their words had stayed behind closed doors. You didn’t want to hear any of it. If you truly wanted to make use of that said potential, you would’ve worked directly under your father as his subordinate.
Maybe it was the result of growing up feeling like you were enough. You have nothing to prove, and quite frankly, you’re content with having a role that really only requires you to share your opinions with a ruler that shares the same ideals as you… for the most part.
If only he’d also agree that you two spend way too much time together.
Luckily, you’re not required to be by his side tonight since you’re attending the banquet as a representative of your clan— something Zuko had no clue about until the moment you stepped onto the airship, which had him looking like he was about to blow a fucking gasket. He absolutely sucks at masking his frustrations. You’re surprised his concubines still had the courage to cuddle up with him. He looked like he was 2.5 seconds away from throwing you off the ship mid-flight.
Zuko would never do that, by the way, but you’re sure he was daydreaming about it.
But even then, with all the distance between you tonight, you can still feel his eyes on you. Just watching and waiting for you to do something he didn’t like. Very masochistic considering how he wouldn’t confront you if you did end up doing something wrong in his eyes.
You spend the entire night avoiding eye contact, which isn’t too hard given how all you’ve done is catch up with old peers from school and relatives who’ve decided to move here to start new lives.
The relatives you got along with, that is.
You were enjoying yourself. Truly. Until Sokka called you over to their table.
Funny how Zuko wasn’t looking at you then and was instead stuffing his face with spicy dumplings, then downing it with whatever liquor was in his cup.
You walk over with two thoughts running through your head— please don’t let this man be as drunk as Sokka and Aang, and don’t let this be a conversation about how the firelord is treating you. Sokka tends to ask those things at the wrong time, despite his heart being in the right place.
This time around, it’s not Sokka.
“How’s our flaming hot lord treating you?” Aang asks, throwing an arm around a very drunk Zuko, who’s laughing his ass off over the avatar’s words for once.
Your lips may have twitched a little, as well. Only because Aang gave even less fucks when in an inebriated state.
“Oh, you know— the usual.” You let out a lighthearted laugh, and only you notice the way Zuko’s face momentarily drops.
The air around him quickly screams ‘don’t fuck with me’, then settles back into something more suitable for someone who’s already had half their water weight in alcohol.
“C’mon, you can do better than that,” Zuko forces out a laugh, leaning back in his seat.
You laugh a little harder. “Can I?”
“Yeah, you can.”
Sokka lets out this weird, giddy gasp because he loves drama, and cuts in. “Are you two fighting?”
“No.”
“No.”
You and Zuko look at each other after shutting down Sokka’s question at the same time. The fake smiles you’re wearing are not helping your case at all.
To keep the energy from growing any more awkward between you, you change the subject. “Where’s Katara? I’ve been wondering where she’s been this whole time.”
Aang grows a little pale— the instant karma feels nice. “She’s a little sick tonight.”
There’s a bit of fear in his voice. She’s totally pregnant. Not that you say that. Instead, you just point in some random direction behind you. “That’s terrible— my cousin actually just mentioned a bug going around. I hope she feels better soon.”
“Thank you,” the man lets out a sigh of relief, allowing himself to be delusional for just one more night.
“What about Toph?”
“Home. Asleep.” Sokka rolls his eyes. “She’s like a little old lady now. You’ll see her tomorrow, though, she’s been volunteering at the center.”
“Volunteering or beating everyone into submission?” Zuko murmurs, and they all erupt in laughter. “She probably runs that place like the military.”
You find yourself starting to zone out as the conversation moves on to a different topic. You’d like to blame some of the wine you’ve been sipping on throughout the night for that. Everything starts to melt together— the live music, the endless chatter in every which direction. The only thing that pulls you out of it is seeing another one of your cousins who had just arrived, waving at you, and you don't shy away from taking that as an opportunity to excuse yourself.
Aang and Sokka were as kind as usual when you said your goodbyes. Zuko, on the other hand, was harder to read through the pathetic excuse of a smile he gave you. One only meant to save face.
If only he knew just how much worse he makes things sometimes. Although they’re rare, this isn’t the first fight you two have been in. Perhaps you have been a little petty towards the man, but it’s not you who grows so frustrated at someone’s anger that you begin to hold a grudge yourself.
You arrive back to your room in the early morning with the regret of not cutting yourself off from the drinks sooner than you did. You wouldn’t say you were drunk, but you were definitely tipsy as you started to shed layers of clothes and jewelry to get in the hot bath that had been prepared prior to your return.
Aang may be childish at times, but fuck was he a great host. Or maybe it was Katara who had all of these amenities set up for you. Candles and bath salts— you could die a happy woman right now as you settle into the stone tub, taking deep breaths, letting your muscles relax.
Twenty minutes in, you hear rattling and heavy footsteps that seem to hit the ground with more confusion than the determination an attacker would usually have. It forces you to leave the warmth of your bath, slipping on a robe. Getting hit with annoyance rather than fear may be a little foolish. Overconfident, even. But there’s still alcohol running through your veins, and you aren’t the pride and joy of your clan for no reason— you can absolutely hold your own in a fight.
When you walk out of the bathroom, you come face to face with exactly who you were thinking of.
“Fuck,” he looks away for a moment, regretting his decision thinking it was okay to just walk in.
Zuko didn’t think you’d be bathing, for some odd, stupid reason. Judging by the fact that he’s still wearing his usual day clothing and his hairs not up in a bun, it’s safe to assume he went straight here after leaving the banquet.
You let out a long sigh. “God— what are you doing here?”
You don’t even sound mad— just disappointed that you have to see him once more before you lay your head to rest, which slightly hurts the man’s ego. Truth be told, he came here to argue with you, but even in his drunken state, he’s finding it quite difficult to do so since he looks like a fucking pervert now.
“Your comment from earlier— what the hell was that about?” Zuko sounds more wounded than anything right now.
You cross your arms, leaning against the door frame that connects the room to the bathroom. “What comment?”
“The usual,” he says with air quotes. “Do you not like me anymore or something?”
“You’re seriously asking me that right now?” Your face twists, just dumbfounded at this point. “You ask me that as if I don’t work for you?”
He scoffs. “So what, you’re saying I’m not your friend now?”
“I mean, yeah— you are, but I’m still your subordinate at the end of the day,” you attempt to spell it out for him, trying to get it through his brain that he can’t just act like you two are a pair of besties.
But he just continues to argue with you.
“Really? ‘Cause last time I checked, people don’t fight their superiors.”
No, they do not. You’re not sure why you even tried to make that an argument, the line between you has blurred a long time ago.
“You know what, just— forget it.”
The thing is, you're not the best at taking accountability. Most of the arguments you’ve had with him have been swept under the rug after a while. Zuko's not having that right now, though.
“Hm— actually, no— I don’t think I will,” he stubbornly says. “You have been punishing me for fucking weeks now and now you just want me to forget it?”
Punishing him?
You roll your eyes, muttering “oh my god” under your breath, not even bothering to look him straight in the eyes anymore as you walk to the nightstand and pick up a small jar of body cream.
“We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” you say dismissively, rubbing the jasmine-scented cream into your hands. “I need to go to sleep, and so should you, honestly.”
It doesn’t matter how well he can handle his alcohol— he reeks of it.
“I’m trying to talk to you right now so I don’t have to deal with your attitude tomorrow,” he says, as if he hasn’t had an attitude himself the last couple of weeks.
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to,” you murmur back.
What feels like minutes pass after your pathetic attempt to settle your issues with him. At first, he just lets out a sigh, trying to keep his composure, but then he laughs under his breath.
“So that’s it?” he asks in a condescending tone. “We’re all good now?”
“Yes. Goodnight, Zuko,” you hum.
More silence follows after. You can just feel his eyes on you despite still facing away, now reaching for some hair oil, waiting for him to leave.
He never does. Even after working the product into your hair, you have yet to hear the door to your room close, making you grow wary.
There are many things telling you not to turn around at the moment— your blurred mind and tensed body. But even you make mistakes, lots of them with Zuko, and so you finally turn around.
His lips are on yours.
You don’t know how long he’d been standing directly behind you, you never even heard his footsteps. All you know is his hands are snaked behind your neck and he’s kissing you and you’re letting him.
It takes you a moment to realize you’re kissing him back— too focused on how soft his lips are, how his tongue glides across your lower lip before slipping inside, so commanding yet so gentle.
Then you sober up— pressing your palm flat against his chest and pushing him back so you two can look at each other, eyes wide and filled with instant regret.
“What the hell was that?” you try to snap at him, but the sharp edge was dulled from the start, already fearing what’ll change between you from this moment forward.
“I— fuck,” he stutters, taking another step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
Immediately, you cut him off. “No, you shouldn’t have and you know that.”
“I know.” It sounds like a plea coming from him as his chest tightens. “I’m sorry.”
Even you start to look apologetic, which breaks his heart a little since you did nothing wrong. The one who crossed the line was him, after all. “You should go. You’re drunk.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it shortly after. There was nothing to say.
And so he slowly nods and turns around, still in shock by his own actions as he begins to walk away, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of what the fuck just happened on your own.
This was going to be the longest work trip of your life.
notes: i hope u guys enjoyed this first chapter!! this was supposed to be a oneshot but then ideas kept popping up in my head and i thought, why don't i just turn this into a longfic like defiance lol. the plan is to follow these two around throughout a couple arcs, with the first one being them trying to navigate their feelings and attempting to go back to normal while trying to fix the shit show in the silk district.
just imagine satoru being on a work trip. bro's only been gone for 3 days at most when you start getting the insatiable desire to be stuffed full of him. the scheduled good night calls and his gruff, sleepy voice over the phone does not help at all.
then you're looking at pictures of you two, greatful that satoru feels the need to document everything. and i mean everything . the mirror pic of you sitting in his lap in nothing but a thong, his hands gripping your almost bare ass, and that nastyyy manspread of his.
you were fully turned on with no way to satify yourself. like damn, you went from using your hands, then a rose toy and finally gave up bc the purple dildo that sat in the depths of your drawer was doing nothing to bring you to your climax. all those people advertising these products were fucking liars. "makes you come in 5 minutes" my ass.
so now you layed there, half naked, sore from trying all kinds of things. but truth be told. nothing could compare to your boyfriend (as he had so boldy stated– and proven multiple times– when you were in the sex shop wanting to buy the latest trend. yeah the rose toy wasn't shit.)
to your surprise, satoru came home early the next day and oh boy, what a dilemma that was. he almosts laughs at your hunched over and limping state after you literally jumped his bones at the door, the uncomfortable ache between your thighs immediately turning into the heated daze you felt the night prior.
but, satoru, being the little bitch he is, first wanted to know why there was a display of sex toys on the bathroom counter from where you had cleaned them. he'd be damned if he got replaced by a fucking silicone toy.
and to add to your misfortune, he refused to rearrange your guts the moment you explained your activities, bc you were still sore and he actually loves the shit out of you so he doesn't wanna hurt you further. y'all settle for a nice hot bath and some well deserved cuddles afterwards.
(oh and you're definitely not living this down anytime soon, satoru will repeatedly prove the reason why those toys do in fact, belong in the trash. after you heal ofc– which is like 24 hours later.)
i am so horrendously down bad for this man. im working on a longer version of this but i havent written in so long idk.
the concept of… making katsuki say your name every time he does a push-up.
I COULD’VE SWORN THIS WAS A TREND AT ONE POINT !
timeskip bf!bakugo x gf!fem!reader suggestive ?
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he doesn’t even realize you’re there at first.
the training room smells like heat and metal and that sharp, familiar ozone that always clings to him after a workout. katsuki’s on the floor, shirt already tossed somewhere careless, palms planted, back straight, muscles tight like he was built for discipline alone. sweat slides down his spine in slow lines, catching in the grooves of muscle as he lowers himself again.
one. two. three.
you linger by the doorway, quiet, watching the way his shoulders flex, the way his jaw tightens every time he pushes back up. he exhales hard through his nose, clearly annoyed with something—maybe himself, maybe the number he hasn’t hit yet.
“you always look so serious when you train,” you say lightly.
he startles—barely—but you catch it. that split second hitch before he glances back at you, scowling.
“the hell are you starin’ for?”
you shrug, stepping closer, sitting cross-legged on the mat like you belong there, like you always do.
“just watching.”
he snorts and drops back down without another word, “sure, whatever,” his arms trembling just slightly as he keeps going. the sound of his breathing fills the room now—deep, controlled, rough around the edges.
that’s when the idea hits you, the sound of how his voice sounds mid push-up.
“you should say my name,” you say suddenly.
he freezes mid-push, glaring sideways at you like you’ve lost your mind.
“what?”
“every push-up,” you clarify, smile sweet, eyes bright. “say my name.”
his brows knit together. “that’s stupid.”
“okay,” you say easily. “then don’t.”
you don’t push, you just lean back on your hands and watch him again, eyes following the way his triceps tense when he lowers himself once more.
five seconds pass.
then, through clenched teeth— “…you’re annoyin’,”but he doesn’t stop. instead, he drops down again, pushes back up.. and says your name.
it’s rough, low, like it’s being dragged out of him against his will.
your stomach flips and you don’t say anything, just hum softly, clearly pleased, and he shoots you a look that’s all confusion and concerned. his breathing gets heavier as he keeps going, sweat dripping from his jaw now, arms shaking just a little more with every rep.
each time, your name comes out different.
sometimes sharp.
sometimes breathless.
sometimes almost—almost—moaned and strained.
by the time he hits his last one, he collapses back onto his heels, chest heaving, staring at the floor like he’s deciding whether to murder you or pull you closer.
“…you happy?” he mutters.
you smile, slow and soft.
“very!”
he finally looks up at you then, eyes dark, unreadable, something simmering underneath.
“now leave me alone with your little.. random ideas.” he says, voice low.
you stand, leaning down just close enough for him to feel your presence again.
✮ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆. Denki has taken an interest in you but decides to ask Bakugo if you two are really together, when he says no Denki decides to shoot his shot only for Bakugo to shut it down.
⭑ ᶜʷ. none
Knowing Katsuki Bakugo for as long as you have made others realize he treated you differently then others.
If someone else tried to eat off his plate he would nearly blow their head off, but if you did? He’d scoff and grumble but subtly push it towards you.
If someone else hugged him, they’d end up in a body cast but you? He’d give you a solid five seconds before squirming out of your grasp.
Small things that others have seemed to pick up leading to the rumor of you two dating. Neither of you went out of your way to shut down the rumor but if someone asked you’d tell them no…no matter how many times they asked.
It wasn’t like that.
So when Denki caught wind of this, he decided to shoot his shot.
Everyone was off doing their own thing by now, studying, training, maybe relaxing yet Denki decided to corner Bakugo in the kitchen.
“So…I heard you two aren’t actually together…is that true?” He asked, leaning against the counter. Bakugo sighed and turned to look at him.
“No, we’re not, why do you care dunceface?” Bakugo’s eye twitched, an unsettling feeling spreading in his chest.
“Just wanted to make sure she wasn’t taken so I could ask her out” Denki smirked, taking a step out of the kitchen before he could deal with Bakugo's reaction.
Bakugo could feel his fingers twitch at his side, begging to blow something up or maybe punch Denki. But how could he? You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours, Denki had every right to ask you out but that wasn’t something Bakugo could come to terms with.
And before he knew it was was walking out of the kitchen towards your room where he saw Denki had just reached and was beginning to knock on the door. Just as the door started to open Bakugo reached out and shoved Denki aside, his face flushed a shade of red and his heart pounding.
“Go out with me.” His words were more of a demand then an ask but that was in typical fashion of Bakugo.
“Oh- like…on a date?” You asked, still getting over the confusion of seeing Bakugo basically body slam Denki onto the floor just seconds ago.
“Yes you idiot, on a date” He grumbled out, arms crossed but his gaze finding the floor instead of you.
“I’d love to” you said simply, smiling widely at him.
“Good, tomorrow night, six p.m” He huffed out and then turned and stomped away, dragging Denki with him.
bakugo and your son hates when you two are fighting
you’re in the kitchen, arguing playfully about whose turn it is to do the dishes. “it’s your damn turn, woman, i cooked!”
“you always cook, katsuki, you literally won’t let anyone else near the stove!”
“’cause you burn rice! who the hell burns rice?!”
“you’re so dramatic—”
and then there’s this tiny voice from the doorway. hesitant and almost fragile. “um. mommy? daddy? please don’t fight?”
you both freeze. bakugo turns so fast you swear his neck cracks. your little boy is standing there in his pajamas, clutching his stuffed dynamight plush like it’s a shield, his lip trembling.
“baby,” you say softly, crossing the room to kneel in front of him, “we’re not fighting.”
his big eyes blink up at you, uncertain. “but you were yelling.”
behind you bakugo just deflates. all that explosive energy drains right out of him. he walks over, crouches down beside you. his voice turns careful and quiet as if he’s holding glass. “hey, kiddo,” he murmurs, “we don’t hate each other, okay? mommy and me… we just talk loud.” the boy still looks shy, so bakugo sighs, leans over, and presses a kiss to your temple. “see? she’s my favorite person.”
“and he’s mine,” you add, smiling softly at both of them.
your son stares for a moment and then nods, like he’s decided to believe it. “okay,” he whispers.
bakugo picks him up easily, tucking the small body against his chest. “c’mere, little man,” he says quietly. “next time we get too loud, you tell us to shut up, yeah?”
“you always say i can’t say shut up,” the boy says against his shoulder.
bakugo’s mouth twitches. “you can if it’s to me.”
you’re trying not to laugh, because your big, fierce husband is now holding his soft little boy like he’s the most precious thing on earth. you swear, when bakugo presses a kiss to that tiny head, he whispers something that sounds an awful lot like my best boy.
Somebody in class, probably Mina (because who else would stir things up before lunch) mentions Valentine's day being around the corner.
“Ugh, I already know I'm gonna be broke,” she groans, stretching across her desk. “So many people to get chocolates for… friends, classmates, crushes…”
Her eyes land on Bakugou.
“What about you, hothead? expecting a mountain of them this year?”
He scoffs, not even looking up from his notes. “Don’t care. And no.”
Mina gasps, feigning offense. “Come on, none? Not even, like, pity chocolates?”
His pen stops moving. “Why the hell would i want people givin’ me pity sweets?”
That earns a few laughs from the class. Kirishima tries to lighten the mood, clapping Bakugou's back. “It's ‘cause you scare everyone off, bro!”
Bakugou shrugs him off, muttering, “Whatever.”
You’re a few rows back, just another classmate. Close enough to hear the exchange, far enough to know he wouldn’t notice your stare.
And yet… the idea of him never getting a single Valentine’s chocolate sticks in your mind longer than it should.
A week later, you end up sitting across from him in the campus library. it’s not planned, you both just happen to claim the same big table during midterms. He grunts a quiet “tch” but doesn’t tell you to move, so you take that as permission.
For a while, there’s only the sound of pages flipping and pens scratching. Until you speak up.
“Hey, you doing anything on Valentine's Day?”
He stills, pen hovering mid-sentence. “…The hell kinda question is that?”
You grin a little. “Relax, it’s not a confession. Just thought, there’s that new movie showing that Friday. Figured since we’re both single and stressed, we could go.”
He looks at you for a second too long, eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking.
“Tch. Like I care about that dumb day.”
“So… that’s a no?”
He exhales, sharp but not unfriendly. “...fine. Whatever.”
You smile. “Great. I'll buy the tickets.”
You smile to yourself. it’s not a yes of enthusiasm, but it’s a yes nonetheless.
The theater is packed with couples, hands intertwined, cheap bouquets everywhere. Bakugou looks vaguely disgusted by the whole thing.
“Didn’t realize it’d be a damn zoo,” he mutters.
You laugh, adjusting your scarf. “We'll be the counterbalance. Two unattached people watching explosions.”
That earns a quiet huff that might’ve been a laugh if he wasn’t trying so hard to hide it.
At the snack counter, he pays for the popcorn (“i ain’t lettin’ you waste your money”), and you grab a bar of chocolate. When you hand him the receipt, he nods toward the candy.
“That for you?”
“Yeah. gotta have something sweet with my salt.”
“Gross,” he says, questioning the combination of.
You shrug and tear it open once you’re seated. “You want some?”
“Nah. Hate sweet stuff.”
You slip the other half of the chocolate in his pocket anyway when his eyes are fixed on the screen.
And that’s it. No grand gesture, no implication.
But days later, when he empties his pockets and finds the torn movie ticket practically fused with the half-melted chocolate bar, a scoff escapes him– followed by a small, reluctant smile.
Because that chocolate, casual and unassuming, ends up being his first valentine’s chocolate after all.
Even if neither of you realized it then.
guys i know its nowhere near valentines day but i wrote ts in the moment, let me have it 😭 pt 2??
Guys some of you have been requesting more bsf!bakugou content and I am here for it!! I'm just putting together ideas atm. I am currently working on 2 longer multiple part bkg fics so pls bare w me
love ya! (LMAO I LOVE TALKING LIKE IM A CELEBRITY AND HAVE A FANBASE)
bakugou wanted to taste the new lip gloss he got for you. his softened eyes follow your gentle swiping movements on your lips. the words spill out before he can stop them.
“lemme taste it, baby,” he rasped, tilting your head to face him.
you smiled, closing the distance between you two. the kiss—if you can even call it that—was quick. too quick for bakugou’s liking.
when you pull away from him, he licks his lips, crimson eyes never leaving yours. then he smirked, lazy and boyish. his stubborn dimple appeared on his cheek. “didn’t taste shit,” he murmured. “c’mere.”
and then you guys are making out. teeth clashing, fingers tangled in hair, heavy breathing. you can feel him smiling into the kiss as his hands roamed your body. this was all part of his plan. you knew he was lying about not tasting anything. you guys pull apart, and he’s like, “too sweet,” and scowls.
tangentwithtanner
titsay
jbbartram-illu
yousharknotpass
baratheonpilled
