Hey gang, there's between 7,000 to 10,000 Zutara fics on fanfiction.net.
"But wait," you ask, "I went to check and I put in Zuko and Katara and pairing and it's only 1.7k?"
WRONG! Remember, SHIT IS OLD, YO. 😭🍿
The "Pairing" checkbox was implemented in the 2010s. All the Zutara fanfic written during the show and in the years immediately after it didn't have that. And it didn't get automatically added.
Back in the day, we old people would select the Characters A and B, then select Genre "Romance". That's where all the good 2000s and 2010s Zutara fanfic lives! I'm talking some stuff that is novel-length, beloved pairing classics, most of which will probably not be posted to AO3 anytime soon.
So if you only search by "Pairing" checkbox, you're going to get about 1.7k Zutara fics. But if you unselect that and choose the "Romance" genre, you'll get more than 7k. And if you include every genre then fanfics with Katara and Zuko as the primary characters is more than 10k.
There's so much more fanfic than you guys realize!! Like y'all probably haven't even read Stormbenders and omg the effect of that story on the shipdom in 2008 was seismic.
It's so fun. Unfortunately the UI for FF.net it's still pretty bad so you might want to just download the thing. But you guys are really missing out if you haven't gone to where most of the fanfic was when the show was airing. (The same is pretty much true of most fandoms from the 2000s.)
summary: when you’re unable to sleep for the third night in a row, katsuki notices— and takes matters into his own hands.
( OR: your boyfriend fucks you to sleep. )
content: comfort / fluff + SMUT - mdni ! pro-hero!bkg. established relationship. domestic intimacy. implied insomniac!reader — can be read as simply having issues with sleep. some banter. clear consent. soft kissing. slight marking / hickeys. pet names (baby). breast play. spit (on ur clit). dedicated pussy eating. fingering. self doubt/insecurity + praise/reassurance. finger sucking. missionary to mating press. "i love you" during sex. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. cum eating. aftercare. emotional & soft smut with feelings, bkg is very much in love !!! and he doesn’t cum but he dgaf this is abt u. quite some built up before the smut lmao. wc: 6.2k.
note: thinking back to the days i would literally Not Sleep 🚬🚬 also this to me is veery soft dom bkg i like dat ^_^
masterlist. | fic based on this request ! ( thank u anon!! )
The glow of your phone was soft against the tired lines of your face. You scrolled through your feed mindlessly, dry eyes fixed onto the screen, barely lingering on anything for longer than a few seconds.
Dull frustration sat heavy under your skin.
You couldn’t sleep. Again. And it wasn't for a lack of trying.
You'd taken the medicine, made your attempts— many attempts. Setting your phone down, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing desperately for a soft, peaceful slumber to come find you.
But it never did.
So, you did what you had done the two nights before this: distracted yourself. Doomscrolled well into the hours of the early morning, when the faint, first rays of the sun filtered through your curtains and you could finally get up and not have to pretend anymore.
It was all you could do, really.
Your weighted gaze dragged over to the time in the top right corner. The bold numbers 3:24 stared back at you like a taunt. You exhaled quietly, temples throbbing.
You should stop.
You should’ve stopped hours ago.
But before you could berate yourself any further, a high-pitched squeak tore through the stillness of the room.
You clutched your phone over your chest in an instant breath caught dead in your throat as the mattress creaked. Your pulse hammered in your ears as the sheets rustled behind you, a tell-tale sign of your boyfriend shifting in his sleep.
With a grunt, Katsuki threw a heavy arm over your waist, turning so that his bare chest was pressed up against your back. The warmth from his skin seeped in through your shirt. He was all encompassing, enveloping you in his dizzying heat.
Swallowing, you prayed silently that you hadn't woken him.
He let out a sigh, the soft sound muffled into the nape of your neck.
You remained as still as you could, fighting to not squirm.
A beat passed, then another.
Your insides melted with quiet relief when he didn't stir, when the rise and fall of his lungs fell in sync with yours— his body giving no indication that he was awake.
With a quiet breath you picked up your phone again, going back to what you what had busied yourself with before he chose to get all cuddly. But when the brightness of the screen decided to assault you, your heart dropped to your stomach, that relief dying in an instant.
You grimaced at the light, fumbling to quickly get it back down to the lowest setting. It had been all the way down this whole time! You must've misclicked, or—
"You're a shitty fuckin' actor."
You could've swore your soul left your fucking body at the gravelly voice against your ear.
"What the fu—"
You didn't get a chance to finish. Katsuki was already reaching over you, guiding your hand with his to set your phone facedown on your nightstand before bringing it back over your middle, rough palm holding your hand over your stomach.
Your shoulders were wound tight as he spoke; voice tired, gruff as always. But, strangely, he sounded calm.
"Third night in a row. You're not sleeping right."
It was less of an accusation, more of a statement.
He gave it to you plainly, straight and simple. But you thought you had been discreet, the mere feeling of being caught was enough to have you opening your mouth, readying your defense, but his next words had it snapping back shut.
"And don't you fucking lie to me 'bout it."
You bit the inside of your lower lip, running over how you could possibly explain yourself without sounding pathetic.
The last few nights had been much the same: restless, spent tossing and turning.
Even when you did manage to fall asleep on the first try, you'd wake up at odd hours, left to stare at the ceiling with burning eyes, unable to quiet your mind, which was simultaneously ever-racing and absolutely empty.
When you thought about it too long, the corners of your eyes pricked. A quiet, defeated ache twisted in your chest.
You didn't want to cry, not over something so menial, so stupid. Not now, not with him watching— expecting an answer from you.
You swallowed back the lump building up in your throat, feeling the slow brush of his thumb over your knuckles.
"Not sleepy."
It came out tight, quiet. Like you were afraid that if you spoke too loud, your fragile attempt at keeping all of that built up frustration inside would fall apart.
You wanted him to give it up, let you be for once. But Katsuki Bakugou was nothing if not stubborn.
With a rumbling sigh, he rolled you onto your back, reaching an arm over you to pull at the chain of your bedside lamp.
You groaned at the sudden light washing over your bedroom, tugging your blanket up over the bottom half of your face as if it could protect you.
Annoyed, you zeroed your squinted eyes onto him, but that angry furrow between your brows weakened as you took in the image of him propped up on one elbow to look down at you.
The warm, honeyed lamp-light caught the ends of his mess of blond hair. It was unrulier than usual, sticking up in odd directions from sleep.
He was still tired— blinking slowly, as if his eyelids were too heavy. The usual harsh lines of his face looked almost uncharacteristically soft, but his gaze was weighted with something unspoken.
Guilt twisted inside your chest.
He was awake because of you. On a work night.
You looked away when he finally spoke up again.
"It's 3 AM. Don't bullshit with me."
"I'm not bullshitting, Katsuki," you reasoned, wishing you could just sink back into the mattress and not have to deal with this. "I'm… this just happens sometimes. Go back to sleep."
You tried to turn your head the other way, but he caught you by the cheek, pushed your face towards him with a firm hand to make you look at him again.
His jaw was clenched tight as he focused in on your face, took in your sunken eyes, the quiet exhaustion dampening your expression.
You knew he hated when you got like this, all dismissive and stubborn, a mirror of him.
"Don't do that shit." He bit out, his brand of harsh concern. "Not with me."
"I'm not doing anyth—"
"Don't be a fuckin' hard ass, alright? Talk."
"I can't sleep! Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That I can't fucking sleep? I just can't! I close my eyes, I try... but I can't! And it's—"
You came to a stop the moment you realized the increasing volume of your voice. You reeled back into yourself, embarrassed of your own outburst.
Turning from his hold, you opted to look up at the ceiling, dragging a hand down your face with a deep, shaky sigh.
"Sorry," you murmured. "This is so stupid. But seriously, I'm good."
You didn't spare him a look before turning your back to him with finality, knowing that if you met his eyes — so focused on you, attentive as ever — it would all come pouring over.
Your throat was tight as you spoke. You hoped he couldn’t tell.
"Sleep, Katsuki. It's late. Don't wanna keep you up, too."
Just when you thought he would give it up, let you deal with this miserable situation by yourself like you always did, he shifted— sat up, pulled back your blanket off of you with a single, harsh tug.
You groaned at the lost warmth, looking at him confused.
"Kats—?!"
He cut you off.
"You tried everything, huh?"
Something about the way he said it — rough and challenging — made your heart spike. He was up to something, but what? You were too exhausted to figure it out, so you offered him a weak answer.
"…Yes?"
"Right."
With one swift motion, he pushed your thighs apart. The outline of his broad shoulders rose from between your legs, thick biceps flexing as he brought your thighs around his waist.
Your legs tightened around him on instinct, bringing him closer as he hovered over you, supporting himself with two steady arms at your side.
You blinked up at him, wondering if he could feel the flustered heat radiating off of your face from being this close.
"W-What're you doing?"
"Helping."
When you continued to just blink back at him at that lackluster answer, a single brow raising slowly, he elaborated with a soft grunt.
"Said you're not sleepy, yeah?"
"… Yeah?"
"Cumming makes you sleepy." all blunt, matter of fact.
Your brows twisted.
"What?" The heat burning your cheeks crawled up to the tips of your ears as your eyes widened incredulously.
It was in his nature to say things as they were, crude and direct, but it still caught you off guard at times, especially over something like this. For someone who got flustered fairly easily, he sure had his moments.
"C'mon. Don't tell me you don't know it." His palm smoothed over your inner thigh, the rough callouses and scars familiar, warm against your soft skin. Careful in a way only you got to see. "Every time we fuck you're out like a light."
"Oh."
"Yeah." he murmured, a little smug. "Tried that?"
You shot him a look. "Obviously not, asshole."
He only chuckled softly, tilting your face up to meet his, kissing the glare right off of your face. His lips moved against yours, slow and intentional.
A soft warmth bloomed behind your ribs as you kissed him back tiredly, letting his movements guide you.
You brought careful hands to rest over his muscled chest, palms slowly sliding up, fingers brushing over the raised, jagged skin of the scar over his heart.
You wrapped your arms around his neck lazily, uncaring that they felt like lead, just wanting him closer to you as your fists curled into the soft hair at his nape.
He pulled back barely an inch, breathing a question against your lips, "You wanna try that?" before kissing you again.
Your brows creased, any semblance of an answer faded into a soft moan against him.
"C'mon, baby," he murmured, pulling back properly this time to kiss up your throat, mouth lingering against your skin.
Baby. He was calling you baby. Because he knew you loved it, knew it turned you to mush— hearing him, always so crude and unapologetic about it, refer to you so sweetly.
A shaky sigh slipped past you as he brought a large hand to the back of your neck, curving it toward him. His kisses turned to gently sucking soft marks and you shuddered, fighting a whine.
"Quit bein' difficult." he huffed, breathe hot against you. "Lemme take care of it."
He brought his face back to watch you like a hound, waiting for your confirmation.
Amidst catching your breath, you contemplated, pursing your lips in thought.
"I… I mean, it doesn't hurt to try?"
It was true, you hadn't tried this 'method' to sleep and part of you was curious whether it would work or not.
But, again, it was a work night, so despite your desperation and exhaustion, you knew that this whole ordeal would get in the way of and the strict schedule Katsuki kept to optimize his health and performance.
He ate well, took part in rigid physical training; mandatory for the powerhouse of a man that stood at number 5 in the pro-hero rankings.
Like clockwork, he woke up at 6 AM, went out there and worked himself to the bone, put his body on the line, and unless the circumstances were dire (either he couldn’t sleep because of dreams of the past or he had missions that demanded later hours) he turned into bed at 8 PM sharp without fail.
From all the years of knowing, you knew that Katsuki was particular about his habits.
But amidst your guilt, you were forgetting that he was also particular about you.
You had wormed into his heart, became something of an exception for him in many regards. But you couldn't see that now, not with worry and weariness eating away inside you.
Your half-lidded eyes searched his, a soft crease forming between your brows as you looked up at him.
"... Do you want to, though? I don't wanna keep you up, or… or like make you do thi—"
He cut you off with a scoff, cocking his head in disbelief as if that was possibly the stupidest thing you could have said to him.
"Don't be an idiot, alright?" he pushed closer, nose brushing yours. "If that's the shit you're worryin' about, don't."
His eyes darted down to your mouth, watching as you chewed on your bottom lip, voice lower; softer.
"Always fuckin' 'want to'."
You took in his words, blinking back the small sting in the corners of your eyes.
Katsuki didn't do pity, never did anything he didn't want to. And right now, he had nothing but undeniable want written all over his face.
There was something ravenous behind those irises, that fiery red sharp and determined in a way that had your stomach flipping.
"Okay," you decided with a slow nod, a small smile settling over your face. "We can try."
A self-satisfied smirk stretched across his face before he nodded back, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned down to peck your lips. His hands found your waist, sliding up your sides as he deepened the kiss.
You gasped slightly as they wandered up under your shirt, rough hands smoothing over the curve of your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his palms— giving them a firm, testing squeeze.
He kept your mouth parted with his, slipping his tongue against yours in a careful rhythm.
You made a muffled sound against his mouth when his thumbs brushed over your nipples, back arching just enough to tell him you wanted more.
Katsuki pulled back, the small string of saliva between your lips breaking as he began to lift up the fabric of your shirt.
"Arms up."
You complied, raising your arms over your head.
Those blazing eyes were narrowed, a subtle furrow forming between his brows— you always thought he looked gorgeous when he was focused, and being the center of that unwavering attention always had your mind spinning.
With a final tug, he pulled your shirt off, watching as your nipples hardened, exposed to the chill of your room.
His eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, pressed a wet kiss to your chest.
Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist as he cupped both your breasts with his hands, took his time pecking around the soft flesh. It was only when you huffed quietly that he chuckled, giving you a long, slow lick over your nipple.
He ran his thumb back and forth over the other, pinching the taut peak between his index and thumb as he sucked one into his mouth, the subtle scrape of his teeth drawing out a small, strangled sound from you as he nipped at your chest.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him in place.
An involuntary whine slipped past you when he pulled back from your chest with a soft pop, his hot mouth switching to the other, the whole process repeating until you were breathless— gasping incoherent strings of what vaguely sounded like his name, nails raking down the expanse of his broad upper back.
He drew back at last, taking in the picture of you; soft lips parted as you panted, a glistening sheen over your chest, dazed eyes blinking up at him— silently asking for more as they darted between his face and the obvious clothed bulge pressing against your core.
You thought he’d get straight to it, tug down his boxers and give you what he knew you wanted, but it seemed he had a different idea.
Pulling back between your legs, he lowered himself to your heat slowly, peppering sloppy kisses from your calf down to your inner thighs. When he finally pressed his lips right over your clothed clit, you groaned softly, head sinking back into your pillow.
His tongue peeked out to give your clit a little lick over your panties; warm and slow and wet.
You whimpered, thighs instinctively tightening around his head as you sighed out his name, wanting to melt.
"Katsuki…"
"You're always so pretty, y'know that?" he breathed out before kissing you over the cotton again, watching the damp spot grow darker under the soft amber lamp-light. "Shit drives me fucking crazy."
You drew in a shaky breath, ears burning.
You weren't exactly what you'd call pretty, right now. Your hair was very likely a mess, eyes red and heavy. And up until he had taken it off, all you had on was an old oversized shirt that had seen better days. Your panties weren’t much better; plain, save for the small bow at the center.
But the way he said it still made your heart flutter— as if, despite all of that, you were pretty to him.
You couldn’t gauge how your body looked, what he could see of you, and you were too tired to try and figure it out. But the uncertainty was enough to have you breathing out a small scoff.
"Don't just say that."
The corner of his lip curled back like you had just offended him to the highest degree.
"Y'know I never just say shit." he barked back.
Maybe you had, in a way. Because he really, really didn't. He never said anything he didn't mean when it mattered, especially not to you.
You bit your lip as his finger hooked under the hem of your underwear, his eyes asking you a silent question.
You nodded slowly, lifting your hips for him. He moved swiftly, slipping off the last piece of fabric shielding you from him.
He stared down at your bare heat shamelessly. Drank in how your wetness glistened under the soft light, the way your legs twitched slightly as if you were fighting the instinct to close them at his intense, unwavering gaze.
He traced a line down your slit with just a finger, relishing the small sound that drew out of you. His gaze met yours as he parted your folds with two fingers and leaned down, mouth hovering right over your pulsing core.
You watched with shallow breaths, eyes locked with his as he gathered spit in his mouth, letting a hot glob drop slowly onto your pussy. You groaned when he dragged the flat of his tongue over your clit, mixing it with your arousal.
He moaned into you, "Taste so fuckin' good…"
His tongue drew circles around your sensitive nub; so diligent, so thorough.
Like with everything, he gave it his all, didn't quit until he was satisfied. His method tonight was torturous, a slow pace that dragged out each sensation almost unbearably to ease you into that blissed out haze that'd surely knock you out.
He'd barely gotten started, and you were already panting, mind slowly slipping into that pleasure-drunk state.
Your fists curled around the sheets when he sucked your clit softly just to hear your breathy whines, smiling against you as you keened.
Katsuki Bakugou was known for his mouth. Snappy, explosive, unforgiving. It was what had drawn you to him in the first place, how he never held back.
But this mouth was the one only you got to know. Still relentless, unyielding, just a little mean— but it felt like devotion when he lapped at your leaking mess, fingers digging into your plush thighs to keep you in place as you squirmed.
You reached a hand down, let your fingers card through his soft hair before giving it a small tug. That earned you a groan, the deep rumble muffled against your dripping heat.
He licked a long stripe up your slit— wet, sloppy. Piercing eyes watching your face as he found your entrance, fucked you with his tongue before replacing it with two thick fingers, gathering your wetness before slowly pushing them in.
You groaned as he worked you up to the stretch, pushed them in knuckle deep.
Savoring the stuttering rise and fall of your chest, he slowly started to pump them in and out. Your eyes fluttered shut, head sinking back into your pillow as his fingers filled you up, curling against that familiar spot— a slow, deep pleasure building each time he hit it just right.
You wanted to cave, melt, maybe sob.
You were so close— you could feel it… just a little more…
But… there was this feeling sitting heavy in your chest, winding up tight around your heart.
You made a noticeable attempt to keep your sounds down as your mind began to race again, your focus drifting away from him as a question resounded your head— you should've already finished by now, right?
Katsuki was doing everything right, touching you perfectly, like he always did. He should be done dealing with you. But you hadn't finished yet, he was still going at it.
Your lower lip trembled. Maybe you were too tired, too caught up in your own exhaustion to cum. Whatever it was, something was holding you back. And If you really couldn't finish, then this would all be pointless, wouldn't it? You'd have wasted both of your time for nothing.
Before the worry could fully cloud your head, Katsuki gave your thigh a firm pat.
You looked down with a start; eyes half-lidded, unfocused.
"There you are." He muttered. "Eyes on me, got it? Hell’s the matter?"
Even when he was concerned, his brashness clung to him.
His care was rough around the edges, imperfect, but it was all his intent. He wanted to be careful with you, you could see it in his eyes, how they were just focused and just soft enough for you to detect.
Even if he didn't know exactly how to do it just right, he tried. Because you mattered. You meant something to him.
He lifted his face just enough for you to know you had his attention, stilled his movements and gave your thigh a small squeeze, a silent prompt to tell him what was wrong.
You couldn't look away if you wanted to, even as you felt your eyes sting— not when he was looking at you like that.
You gnawed at your bottom lip; embarrassed, ashamed.
"I can't."
He raised a brow. "Can't what?"
You let out an exasperated breath.
"Can't… can’t cum. I can't, feel like— I dunno, something's wrong with me, Katsuki, I'm—"
"Get outta your head." he cut off your babbling sharply. You whimpered when he started moving his fingers again, tongue coming down to drag over your clit at the same time. "Nothing's fuckin' wrong with you. I know you can."
His unshaken confidence in you was enough to draw out a soft groan, but his mouth and fingers working in tandem to build up that tightening warmth inside you again was what had your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as the pressure above your belly wound tighter and tighter.
That heaviness in your shoulders slowly melted as he picked up the pace, the worry and doubt wrapped tight in your chest loosened and faded steadily, the sweet promise of eventual euphoria taking over your senses.
Quick, shallow breaths escaped your lungs as you brokenly mumbled his name, bucking your hips against his mouth, squeezing around his head with your legs. Your hands found his hair again, pulling without a care as he nearly doubled his efforts.
With a choked out sob, you finally came, the fingers curled in his hair tightening just a bit more one last time before going lax.
You could feel him smiling against your core as you came down; proud, a little cocky, but above all, happy to be lost in the taste of you.
He kissed you through it, mouth unrelenting against your pussy even as your thighs spasmed and trembled, working you down from your orgasm.
With a final kiss over your clit, he finally pulled back, wiping the mixture of his saliva and your slick off the bottom half of his face lazily, like he didn't actually care whether it was there or not.
Shifting, he hovered over you, crimson eyes locking with yours, reading you silently with the same rapt attention he had out on the battlefield.
A light sheen of sweat was cast over his muscled arms at your sides, the highs of his cheeks were flushed a soft pink, spikes of blond hanging messily over his forehead.
"Still with me?"
His voice was gravelly, a smoky rasp. Just a little breathless, but the satisfaction in his eyes told you he'd have it no other way.
You attempted a response, still panting heavily.
"Mhm…"
"Not an answer, baby."
"…Yes. Thank you."
He leaned down to kiss you, you moaned softly at the taste of yourself off of his lips.
Pulling back, he trained his serious eyes on yours. "Don't thank me for that shit."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize either." You managed a snort at how impossible he was being, but he continued. "Feelin' sleepy?"
You hummed. "Yeah. A little."
He blinked once, scanning your face. Then grunted. "Not good enough."
"Katsuki, it's okay, you've done enou—"
"I told you, 'm gonna take care of it. Yeah?"
With his hands on the underside of your thighs, he pulled your legs around his waist, his hardened cock pressing over your still-drooling pussy, hot and heavy despite the single layer of fabric between you both.
Your heart picked up again; voice small, airy.
"Yeah…"
"Gonna let me, right?"
You whined. "But I just—"
"I know," he shushed you, slowly moving his hips, grinding himself against you agonizingly. "You can gimme another."
"Mh…”
Your lips pursed, brows pinched.
It could feel nice. It would feel nice.
You had warmed up to the idea, hips lifting just slightly to push against him as he moved, a quiet, nearly imperceptible motion.
He noticed, like he always did, but still, he wanted to draw it out of you.
"C'mon, gotta say it." his voice was a half-tease, low and coaxing, yet that mocking undertone never left. "Can only do it if you say it."
You groaned, embarrassed heat crawling up your neck.
He always did this—made you say it out loud, full-well knowing how it embarrassed you.
It was as though he lived to see you get heated, got something out of watching your lips curl and twitch in your attempts to fight your own discomposure.
"Can give you 'nother," you practically huffed out. "Jus' fuck me, please. Wanna feel you."
He smiled down at you, pleased with himself, and before you could even think to roll your eyes at that smug expression, he began to shuffle out of his boxers, freeing his aching cock.
He brought it to rest right over your pussy as he settled between your legs.
His eyes said look, and you did, took in his thick length, the angry flush of his leaking head, the precum dripping onto your navel.
He wanted you to see just how deep he would go, wanted you to really take it in.
You felt yourself get wetter, feeling empty at just the sight— he reached just below your belly button.
"You ready?"
Slowly, he dragged his tip between your folds. You let out a small, choked sound, nodding as your hips involuntarily bucked up to chase more.
"Uh huh. Please, please."
Katsuki’s abs tensed as he finally positioned himself just right, pushing into your tight warmth with gritted teeth, biting back the moan threatening to slip past.
He took his sweet time, going inch by agonizing inch, all the while your chest heaved as he stretched you out, filled the emptiness that had you aching.
When he finally bottomed out, panting, you clenched around him, whimpering slightly.
He let out a guttural sound; something low, ragged, already wrecked.
"Don't…" he breathed, voice cracking slightly. "Don't fuckin' do that."
"Sorry…"
"Told you not to do that either."
With a shaky breath, he began to move. Careful rolls of his hips, a hand splayed over your stomach as he eased himself in deep.
You stuttered out his name as that same hand moved lower, stopping right where your bodies met, the pad of his thumb slowly rubbing your clit.
His eyes fluttered as he watched your head fall back against your pillow, panting as he eased into a languid rhythm, angling his hips with each thrust in search of that spot.
When he found it, you keened, toes curling, lips parting as you let out a moan.
"Katsuki…" you dragged out the end of his name, practically whining.
He only grunted, something like a strangled whimper managing to slip past his gritted teeth. "Yeah, I know, I fuckin' know…"
He continued to thrust slowly, pull all the way back out before pushing back in, intense scarlet eyes watching your face twist upon each intrusion.
You didn't notice his thumb had been brushing the plush of your lower lip before he tapped it.
"Open."
That was all he said. He knew he didn't need much for you to listen. You looked down at his hand, then back up, parting your lips on command, the pink of your tongue peaking out on instinct.
"There we go…" He murmured, slipping his index and middle finger into your waiting mouth slowly.
The weight of his thick digits settled over your tongue and you groaned, sucking gently.
"You like that?" He asked, watching your mouth work around his fingers softly, voice low.
He already knew you liked it, knew that it lulled you into a fuzzy, brainless haze. But he loved to see you nod back at him; that pliant, sweet look in your half-lidded eyes as you offered him soft 'mhm' around his fingers.
He fought the moan crawling up his throat, instead letting out a tight a chuckle.
"Yeah, I know you do."
When he pulled his fingers back, you whimpered, but didn't get to dwell on it for long.
He moved to cage you down, supporting himself by the forearms, groaning into your ear as he bucked his hips deeper into you, pace noticeably faster.
You threw your head back. It was so good, perfect even. But you still wanted to feel more of him.
"Closer…" You asked, a quiet whine behind your words. "Closer, please, baby. Need you closer, Katsuki…"
Katsuki loved missionary, you knew this. He loved that it meant he could get close, actually see you— watch as your face twisted from being filled by him.
But on nights when close wasn't close enough, he folded you in half, pressed himself impossibly deeper, brought you closer than you thought you could ever feel.
The second he realized what you were asking for, he pushed the backs of your thighs, pressed your knees up by your head.
You hooked your arms around his neck, he kissed the the hinge of your jaw, breathing desperate words against your neck.
“Fuck, I love you.”
You bit back a groan, feeling him trail sloppy kisses down to your collarbone.
“Y’know that, right?”
You were shaking, letting out breathy moans as he began to suck soft marks into your skin, lost in the feeling— the taste— of you.
Your hands slid to hold the back of his neck, pulling him back carefully. Your nose bumped his as you held his face, felt the sharp curve of his jaw in your palms.
You pulled a hand back to find one of his by your head, you laced your fingers with his, gave his hand a soft squeeze before softly pecking his lips.
"I love you," you murmured the words against his mouth before pulling him back feverishly, moaning into the kiss. "I love you so much."
He picked up his pace at those words, fucking into you desperately, "Can't believe you thought I didn't wanna do this shit…" He panted out.
"Always fuckin' want you, don't y'get it?" his voice was already deep. but now— rough from sleep and want, the rasp made you impossibly wetter.
The sound of your creaking bed and the soft slap of skin against skin faded into the background as he leaned down to kiss you, all messy and raw.
"Tell me you get it." the words heaved out of him, hot and breathy, his lidded eyes met yours, the blistering need behind them setting your skin ablaze.
"I get it," you managed, tugging him closer, holding him against your chest. "I get it, Katsuki, please—"
He groaned by your ear, "Fuck, I know. I got you…"
Suddenly, nothing else seemed to matter. Everything that had weighed on your heart— the frustration, the doubt, the unsureness in yourself. it dissolved to nothingness in the back of your mind— because Katsuki Bakugou loved you. You loved him.
You could feel it all around you; he was everywhere, everything. And part of you felt that was all you might ever need.
With a broken sound, you came, burying into the crook of his neck.
He breathed with you for a moment, held you close, heated sweat-slicked skin against yours. He pulled out carefully, gritting his teeth to bite back a groan.
You were caught off guard when he hooked your thighs over his shoulders, leaned down to lap up your spend— his grip was a vice, absolutely not letting go of you— his fervent mouth moving against your sensitive heat to stimulate you past what you thought was bliss.
You nudged at his face half-heartedly, too tired to even whine; shallow, broken sobs heaved out of you as your thighs twitching around his head.
It was too much, you told him as much. At least, you tried to. You weren't sure if he could make anything out of your nonsensical babbling between whimpers, but you were certain he didn't really care.
When your hands found his hair, you twisted the blond tufts in your fists, letting out a final cry as he pushed you over the edge one last time.
He lifted his head back, lingering for a beat, careful eyes taking you in. Your eyes were shut, relishing the aftershock of your own high as your lungs raced to catch onto air, but more importantly: you were completely fucked out.
With a small kiss to your inner thigh, he got up.
"Where're you going…?” you managed between breaths, feeling his presence on your bed go missing, eyes opening just enough to peek at him.
“Clean underwear. Water."
"Oh."
"Mhm."
You felt like you might pass out in the best way possible. Your eyes were so droopy, but you tried your best to keep them open.
You traced the line of Katsuki's back as he shuffled through your drawers. Something soft and warm branched out from behind your sternum, spread through your body.
Suddenly, you wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms. Feel his body curve against yours.
He uncapped a bottle of water from your dresser and held it out for you, watching intently as you sat up shakily and took careful sips.
You handed it back to him, wiping at your mouth as he moved back onto your bed, tugging on a clean pair of underwear over your legs.
"You shoulda kept goin' Katsuki…" You tried to sound harsh, scolding. But it came out softer than you wanted. "You didn't… y'know…"
He pulled the blanket over your body and his quietly, settling at your side. You watched as he laid his head to rest on his pillow, taking in the familiar lines of his face.
"Don't care." He flicked your forehead. "Think too much and I might have to fuck you to sleep again."
Your lower lip jutted at that, a small flush settling over your face.
Reaching an arm out, you drew him closer to you. Your heart swelled at the familiarity of his warmth, that longing in you satiated momentarily at the feeling.
Your hand found his jaw, thumb brushing over the unscarred side of his face. You always loved that scar on his right cheek, thought it made him look handsome.
A small smile touched your face as you leaned in to press your lips over it, even though his other cheek was much easier to kiss. You liked to do that whenever you got the chance.
"Hey, Katsuki?" You hummed, brushing some of his hair back.
"What?"
Fondness curled inside your chest at his voice; it came quick because it was soft. Because he had softened himself, for you.
"Thank you."
He blinked back at you before, "Tch." then leaning forward to peck your lips.
"Told you to stop doin' that."
You could only chuckle, letting his large hand find the back of your head, pull you down to cradle you against the warm, solid planes of his chest.
"Sleep."
You yawned, smiling as you pressed your cheek closer against his skin.
"I'll make it up in the morning, 'kay?" You mumbled, the thrum of his heart easing your limbs, his strong arms curled around you tighter. "Promise."
Katsuki snorted softly, running a hand up and down your back, careful and soothing as he tucked you under his chin, adjusting the blanket around you to make sure you were properly warm.
"'M sure you will."
masterlist ★ taglist form ★ want to request?
may blabs: hellooo guys
second smut we up 😈 im still learning how to write ts so this was kiiinda stressful… (overthought a Lot) … but it ok we made it 🥹
im not even a petname bkg truther really so idk why i wrote that in but i did. playing with him like he’s my doll lalala
love me some acts of service solution oriented katsuki who’s soft in his own way ^_^ and i like emotions so this was quite fun to write! soft intimate smut… sighs dreamily
bkg not getting to nut lowk a recurring pattern now tho im dead 😭 (will he ever get to bust? stay tuned)
(btw title is from the marías song !!! #peak)
★ IMPORTANT — the amazing art in the header is not mine! unfortunately, i was not able to find the artist to give adequate credit, so this is my disclaimer !! all i did was edit the coloring.
I am so utterly fascinated by “Saki”, the 18-year-running mahjong manga in which you, the reader, become gradually, frog-boilingly aware (over the course of nearly two decades’ worth of mahjong tournaments) that none of these girls are wearing underwear and most of their boobs are slowly expanding.
I need you to understand that I have, like, an anthropological level fascination with this comic. From the perspective of someone who is also a comic artist and writer, two things delight me about it:
the fact that I understand completely how an artist gets from “the fans can have a little hint of skirted asscheek” to “the pussy is completely out on center page” over the course of 18 years; and
the way in which the pussy being out is treated by the characters and diegesis as being utterly unremarkable.
Okay. Point 1. The frog-boiling.
Let me put this in perspective for you. There was already a meme about how the characters in “Saki” don’t wear underwear when I was in middle school. I am thirty now. Okay? And it’s still going.
In the time since, this has stopped being a joke. It is now indisputable canon. This is not because anyone outright says it at any point. It’s because the underwear ran out of places to hide. I’m obsessed with this thought: somewhere in the over 20 volumes of “Saki”, there is a panel in which underwear was objectively deconfirmed. And it would be so hard to figure out where that panel actually is. Maybe the artist didn’t even realize it when she drew it! The frog? Boiling!!
And of course there is also the breast expansion. I don’t know how to put a spin on this. They are just expanding. Like, this happens a lot with artists: you define a character as being, in your mind, “the one with the big boobs”, and over the years you emphasize that trait further and further so that the signal doesn’t get lost in the noise. It’s just that normally—in like a wildly popular manga series about mahjong published by literally Square Enix, for example—normally there would be a point at which the boobs stopped getting bigger. Like, an editor would step in or something. Or you would get to the point where you cannot draw the character in the same panel as her mahjong tiles without her breasts spilling over the tiles, and you’d go, “Well, this is now untenable.”
That did not happen. There is no ceiling. The frog is soup.
Point 2. The complete and utter mundanity of all of this.
It’s like this, okay: there’s no shortage of trashy ecchi manga out there. There’s a million other comics doing wildly bawdier things with wildly more improbable bishoujos.
The vibe with “Saki” is different.
It’s hard to explain this, but it feels like the world of the comic is fundamentally uninterested in the fanservice happening on the page. I cannot describe it as “leering”, because I cannot conceive of a person in the story from whose point of view one would leer. I think the artist is probably into it—I can’t imagine anyone is making her do this—but “Saki” the comic has no opinion on the matter.
There are essentially no male characters in “Saki”. Like, there was one guy? Kind of? At the very beginning? But he is gone now. They put him back in the toybox. He does not exist. It appears to be some level of canonical that in the world of “Saki”, almost all humans are women. Those women are sometimes romantically into each other. According to comments the artist has made on Twitter (which I cannot source), they have lesbian baby technology, so it’s no problem. It’s so much not a problem that the story is about mahjong, instead of any of that.
So, like, the fiction here appears to be this: this is the, like, meta-narrative of the fanservice of “Saki”, right: it’s just normal that they don’t wear underwear and their boobs are arbitrarily big. It’s been normal. It was normal before the story of the manga began. It’s just how things are. Nobody bats an eye about it, and if they do, it’s in sort of a lesbian kind of way so like what’s the problem, we love lesbians here. This is literally normal for girls.
The fanservice simply diffuses into this all-encompassing aura of disembodied, ambient sluttiness. The framing of the panels demands you acknowledge it, and the story demands you already be over it, because it’s mahjong time now, and we’re playing mahjong.
Do you get??? why I’m so fascinated??? Are you not a little enraptured???
Anyway, I have no idea how to end this weird post. I guess the conclusion is that women stay winning????
I have so many questions... How does one SUSPECT a manga character isn't wearing underwear? Like, sure, boobs are front and center amd you can see them get bigger panel by panel but how does this work for panties? Are there just that many upskirt shots?
Also how do you keep a manga about Mahjong going for 18 years, what??
A/N: Story mlist for Syncopation, an ongoing multipart Nanami x Reader fic!
Title: Syncopation
Pairing: Nanami Kento x f!reader
Synopsis: Every Tuesday night, a certain jazz bar serves as both a temporary escape from the mundane routine of daily life and a poignant reminder of a forsaken aspiration.
On those evenings, it’s just you and the music filling the space between the jagged pieces of yourself you’ve been desperately holding together, and for a while, you’re convinced that it’s enough.
That is, until you cross paths with Nanami Kento, after which nothing is quite the same.
Content tags: no curses AU, slow burn romance, hurt/comfort, fluff, gratuitous jazz references, some POV switching, mature themes, mdni.
Music playlist with all the songs referenced here
Also on AO3 here
Track One: In A Sentimental Mood • Read on Tumblr // AO3
Chapter summary: In which your and Nanami's synchronized spirits find one another thanks to the serendipity of aligned intentions.
Word Count: 3.2k
Track Two: My Foolish Heart • Read on Tumblr // AO3
Chapter summary: In which experimentation flirts with standard as Tuesdays keep bringing you and Nanami onto each other’s paths, and a shared, improvised push-and-pull blooms between trying new things and sticking to the familiar.
Word Count: 6.3k
Forthcoming releases
Track Three • Track Four • Track Five • Track Six • Track Seven • Track Eight • Track Nine • Track Ten
Listen I don't get to decide when the drunk elf that is my executive actually does the functioning but when he does we have a SMALL WINDOW OF TIME before he finds the schnapps again and we're done
If you're writing anything involving cons, scams, heists, or morally questionable characters who are very good at lying, here are some free resources I've been using for research. Saving you the "why is this in my search history" anxiety.
1. The FBI's Famous Cases & Criminals archive (fbi.gov/history/famous-cases) has detailed breakdowns of real fraud cases, Ponzi schemes, and confidence operations. The language they use is clinical and precise, which is perfect for getting the procedural details right.
2. The FTC Consumer Sentinel Network publishes annual reports on the most common fraud tactics in the US. Great for understanding how modern scams actually work and what makes people fall for them.
3. The Smithsonian's American Art Museum has a free digital collection of forgery case studies. If your character forges documents or art, this is gold.
4. Court Listener (courtlistener.com) is a free legal database where you can read actual court transcripts from fraud trials. Want to know how a real con artist talks under oath? This is where you find out.
5. The Internet Archive's collection of old newspaper crime sections. Search for "confidence man" or "swindle" in papers from the 1920s through 1960s and you'll find incredible real stories that would feel too dramatic for fiction.
Bonus: The Psychology of Fraud section on the Association for Psychological Science website has accessible articles about why people trust, how deception works cognitively, and what makes someone a convincing liar. Essential reading if you want your con artist characters to feel psychologically real.
Reblog to save for later. Your WIP will thank you.
we gotta get back to torrent distribution, i just watched someone eat eight grand in bandwidth charges because they ran a direct-download piracy site with local file hosting through cloudflare. torrents were invented literally for this exact reason
i have a file or folder on my pc that i want to share with other people. let's call it gayshit.mp3
unfortunately gayshit.mp3 is 750mb and im not paying for discord nitro so i need another way to send it
i put it into qbittorrent and it makes a torrent file. this is essentially a very small file that points to gayshit.mp3 so other computers can find it. kinda like a treasure map
i send this tiny file to my friend, who loads it into qbittorrent. their computer takes a moment to find mine over the vast expanse of cyberspace and then (as long as my pc is running and the file is still where it should be), it gets copied from my hard drive to theirs
this is the cool part: if somebody else loads that tiny file, they can download it from both of us. if i'm offline but my friend is on, the third person can still get it. this also means that if two people have separate halves of the file, they can download the other half from each other. as long as some combination of people have the pieces between them, they can all have the whole thing.
crucially this does not require a server!!! you can just upload the file to a few people and as long as they keep it, it's still accessible. as long as somebody, somewhere is still connected, it's available forever. the only way it goes away is if everybody disconnects from it.
gojo wakes up with your hand already inside his boxers, your fingers curled lazily around his half-hard cock, stroking him with that slow, sleepy rhythm you know drives him insane before he’s even opened his eyes.
he groans, low and guttural, his hips twitching forward into your palm despite the way his voice drips with exaggerated annoyance. “nngh… seriously?” he mutters, voice rough from sleep, one eye cracking open just enough to glare at you through the messy white strands falling over his face. “it’s… what time is it? too early. you’re doing that thing again.”
you don’t stop. your thumb drags across his tip, spreading the sticky warmth already beading there, and his breath hitches despite his best efforts to look put out. gojo satoru, the strongest, reduced to a mess of slow-burning want before the sun has even fully risen, and you haven’t even said a word yet.
“you’re not gonna move, are you,” he says. it’s not a question. he knows you. knows that when you wake up like this—all heavy-lidded and needy, pressed against his side with your thigh hooked over his hip—you have exactly one thing on your mind, and absolutely zero intention of doing anything about it besides using him.
you hum, soft and affirmative, and your grip tightens just slightly, a silent you know what i want that makes him sigh through his nose.
“unbelievable,” he breathes, but he’s already shifting, already rolling toward you, because gojo has never been able to say no to you. not really. not when you look at him like that, all sleepy and demanding, your lips still puffy from sleep and your hair a mess against the pillow. “you’re gonna make me do everything. like always.”
you don’t deny it. you just pull your hand out of his boxers—slowly, deliberately, dragging your fingertips along his length one last time—and push at his shoulder until he’s on his back. then you’re climbing over him, straddling his hips, and he lets you, because what else is he supposed to do? throw you off? pleaseeee.
his hands find your waist on instinct, thumbs pressing into the soft skin above your hip bones, and he feels the damp heat of you through the thin fabric of your underwear as you settle against him. his cock twitches where it’s trapped between you, and he groans again, tipping his head back into the pillow.
“you’re not even gonna take these off yourself?” he asks, tugging at the waistband of your underwear, and you shake your head, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.
“you do it,” you murmur against his skin, and he laughs—a breathless, disbelieving sound.
“of course. of course i do it.” but his hands are already pushing the fabric down your thighs, already guiding you to lift your hips so he can pull them off and toss them somewhere on the floor. he doesn’t bother taking off his own boxers, just hooks his thumb in the elastic and shoves them down just enough to free himself, his cock curving up against his stomach, flushed and heavy and already leaking at the tip.
you reach down to guide him, but he catches your wrist, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing your hand into the pillow beside your head instead. “no. you wanted me to do it, so i’m doing it. just sit there and look pretty.”
you pout at him, but it’s halfhearted, your eyes already glazing over as he shifts beneath you, one hand leaving your waist to wrap around his own cock, slicking the head through your folds. you’re already wet—embarrassingly wet, a testament to how long you’d been touching him before he even woke up—and he groans at the feel of it, at the way your body welcomes him without any resistance.
“fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s pushing inside, slow, so slow, because even when he’s complaining, even when he’s playing the part of the put-upon boyfriend, gojo can’t bring himself to rush this. not with you. not when you make that sound—that soft, broken little “ah” that falls from your lips as he sinks into you inch by inch, your walls fluttering around him like you’ve been waiting for this all night.
he bottoms out and stops, both of you just breathing, just feeling. his hands slide up your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, and he watches your face, the way your eyes slip half-closed, the way your lips part around a shaky exhale.
“you gonna do any work, or…?” he asks, and you shake your head again, a tiny, lazy movement that makes him laugh even as his hips twitch up into you.
“didn’t think so.” he starts to move, pulling out slow and pushing back in even slower, a rhythm that’s barely more than a deep, grinding rock. it’s not meant to be fast. it’s not meant to be rough. it’s morning sex when neither of you is fully awake, when the sun is just starting to filter through the curtains and the sheets are tangled around your ankles and every sensation is muffled and warm and thick like honey.
you moan, low and quiet, and your hands come up to brace against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleep shirt. he’s still wearing it—of course he is, because you didn’t even give him time to take it off before you were climbing on top of him—and you tug at the collar, pulling it down just enough to press your mouth to the hollow of his throat.
“mmnh… satoru,” you breathe against his skin, and his grip on your hips tightens, his rhythm stuttering for just a second before he finds it again.
“don’t ‘satoru’ me,” he says, but his voice is softer now, the annoyance bleeding away into something warmer, something almost tender. “you’re the one who woke me up. you’re the one who—” he cuts himself off with a groan as you clench around him, deliberately, just to hear that sound. “cheater.”
you smile against his neck, and he feels it, feels the curve of your lips, and he hates how much he loves this. loves the way you use him, loves the way you take and take and take and give nothing back except these soft, sleepy sounds and the occasional bite of your teeth against his collarbone.
the room is quiet except for the wet sound of him moving inside you, the rustle of sheets, your shared breath. it’s slow. so slow. each thrust takes forever, a lazy drag of his cock against your walls, and you can feel everything—every ridge, every pulse, the way he fills you so completely you can barely think.
“you could at least… nngh… you could at least move your hips or something,” he tries, his hands sliding around to cup your ass, guiding you in a small circle that makes you both gasp. “i’m doing all the work here.”
“you’re stronger,” you mumble, and it’s such a non-answer, such a blatant excuse, that he laughs again, breathless and a little wrecked.
“that’s—ah—that’s not how this works.” but he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t even slow down. if anything, his hips press up a little harder, a little deeper, and you feel the stretch of him, the sweet ache of being filled over and over again.
you kiss him then, not because you want to help, but because you want to shut him up. your mouths meet in a lazy slide, lips barely parting, tongues just brushing, and he tastes like sleep and something sweet, like the toothpaste you forgot to use last night. it’s messy and imperfect and so, so good.
he pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath warm on your lips. “you’re so lazy. you know that? you’re the laziest person i’ve ever—mmph—” you kiss him again, and he makes a sound like a whine, high in his throat, and you feel it in your chest.
the pace doesn’t change. it can’t change. you’re both too far gone into this slow, syrupy haze to do anything but rock together, hips meeting in a rhythm that’s more instinct than thought. gojo’s hands wander—up your back, down your thighs, everywhere and nowhere—and every few seconds he lets out a soft, punched-out noise that’s barely louder than a whisper.
“you’re not gonna cum,” he says eventually, and it’s not a question. “you’re just gonna—ah—you’re just gonna make me do this until one of us falls back asleep.”
you nod against his shoulder, and he groans, long and loud, his head falling back against the pillow.
“i hate you,” he says, but his hips keep moving, and his hands keep holding, and his cock keeps pressing into that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. “i hate you so much.”
you don’t believe him. you’ve never believed him. not when he says it like that, all soft and breathy, not when he keeps fucking you with that lazy, devastating precision, not when he turns his head to press a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.
“move,” he tries again, giving your hip a little push. “come on. just a little. just—nngh—just once.”
you shake your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and you feel his laugh more than you hear it, a shudder that runs through his whole body.
“you’re impossible,” he says, but he’s smiling. you can hear it in his voice. “absolutely impossible.”
the sun gets brighter. the birds outside get louder. neither of you speeds up. neither of you finishes. it’s just this—this endless, gentle push and pull, this lazy morning ritual that could last for hours or minutes, you can’t tell anymore. time doesn’t exist here, in the warm cocoon of tangled sheets and shared breath, of gojo’s hands on your body and his cock buried inside you and the soft, constant sound of his moans in your ear.
“i’m gonna stop,” he warns, but his hips rock up again, deeper, and you whimper, and he doesn’t stop. he never stops. “i mean it. i’m gonna… i’m gonna push you off and go back to sleep and you can just… handle it yourself.”
you lift your head just enough to look at him, and he’s beautiful like this—flushed and disheveled, his blindfold long since discarded on the nightstand, his eyes bright and blue and so, so soft. he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world, even as he complains, even as he pretends he wants to be anywhere else.
“please,” you say, and it’s the first real word you’ve spoken since you woke him up, and it breaks something in him, some last thread of resistance.
“fuck,” he whispers, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours, and his hips finally, finally pick up the pace—just a little, just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. “fuck, okay. okay. i’ll do it. i’ll do everything. just stay right there.”
you do. you stay right there, limp and pliant in his arms, while he fucks you slow and sweet and endless, while the morning stretches on around you, while his moans fill the room like a prayer.
it’s lazy. it’s perfect. it’s exactly what you wanted.
and when he finally stops, minutes or hours later, both of you still trembling and neither of you any closer to the edge, he pulls out slowly and wraps himself around you and mumbles “next time, you’re doing it” into your hair.
꒰ ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅɪᴇ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ enjin is your best friend… until one day you’ve a date.
enjin had once punched a man for you before he even knew your name - that was the kind of friendship the two of you had.
despite you being a woman there was nothing sweet about. he didn’t treat you like some delicate flower, or some damsel in distress.
you were his best friend, and the two of you were loud wherever you went. violent sometimes too.
the kind of best friends that shoved each other into walls while laughing. the kind that stole food off each other’s plates with zero hesitation. the kind that survived the pit together and came out of it meaner, rougher, inseparable.
everyone in the cleaners knew it too.
“those two are freaks,” riyo once muttered after watching you and enjin wrestle over the last fried dumpling until both of you ended up crashing through a chair.
you had your arm around enjin’s neck, trying to choke him out while he barked laughter loud enough to shake the room.
“tap out then,” you grunted.
“eat shit.”
“you first.”
“you literally bite people when you lose,” he accused and… yeah.
“only you.”
enjin looked the fucking happiest when he was with you. a bit like a golden retriever getting snacks.
freer too, like the weight on his shoulders stopped crushing him for a little while, and the umbrella didn’t feel so heavy.
the thing was that you two spent almost every second together once the missions were over. if one disappeared, everyone automatically assumed the other one was nearby.
even when you fought (you did that a lot), and you were mad at each other you still were attached by the hip. back to back, spitting insults over the shoulders like some damn five years olds.
you sat on rooftops together drinking cheap liquor straight from the bottle. you patched each other’s wounds without gentleness. you stole cigarettes from each other’s mouths. shared meals. shared blankets. shared silence.
one night, after a mission nearly went wrong, enjin showed up at your room bleeding through his side. you opened the door, took one look at him, and sighed.
“you’re getting blood on my floor again.”
“missed you too.”
then he nearly collapsed forward. you caught him with a curse, dragging his heavy body inside while he laughed weakly into your shoulder.
“you’re huge,” you complained.
“you love it.”
“i’m about to leave you outside for garbage collection, fatass.”
“wouldn’t be your first crime.”
you stitched him up sitting on the bathroom sink while he hissed through clenched teeth. that old drama queen.
“hold still.”
“you’re sewing me like an ugly sweater.”
“that’s because you move like an ugly sweater.”
“mean.”
“you’ll live.”
“that’s all you got to say after i almost died?”
you snorted. “if you died, i’d kill you myself.”
enjin smiled, because that sentence meant more coming from you than anyone else.
you stayed awake with him afterward, both of you sitting on the floor with your backs against the bed. his shoulder pressed against yours while rain hammered outside.
rain was bad anyway. rain also meant sleepless nights
at some point he handed you the bottle.
at some point his head dropped onto your lap.
at some point you fell asleep too.
that was normal. everything with you was normal, even the disgusting parts.
… especially the disgusting parts.
“you drool like a damn animal,” enjin groaned one morning.
you blinked awake against his chest. “huh?”
“my shirt’s soaked.”
“you snore into my ear like a dying engine.”
“you elbowed me in your sleep.”
“you deserved it somehow.”
“see? evil.”
“still sleeping here tonight?”
“obviously.”
you were tangled together on his mattress like survivors after war. your leg thrown over his waist. his arm numb underneath your body. neither of you moved away.
nobody from the cleaners understood it.
semiu once stared at the two of you sharing a cigarette outside headquarters and finally asked, “so are you together or what?”
you and enjin looked at each other, then burst into laughter. the one where tears appeared in your eyes and you grunted so cutely.
“you hear this shit?” he wheezed.
“she thinks we’re romantic,” you gasped.
“that’s insulting.”
“actually offensive.”
semiu looked irritated. “you sleep in the same bed.”
“yeah.”
“you hold hands sometimes.”
“that’s tactical.”
“you literally kissed his forehead yesterday.”
you blinked and enjin blinked too. alright, that creeped semiu out.
“had a fever.”
“thank you,” you added immediately.
semiu walked away muttering curses under her breath. then went straight to gossip it what she witnessed to gris. he was just as confused as the rest.
meanwhile neither of you thought about it again, because this thing between you had become its own creature years ago.
it was too wild to label and too familiar to question.
enjin knew how many scars you had without looking. you knew every single expression hidden underneath his mask.
he knew when your smile was fake. you knew when his anger came from fear instead.
there were nights he couldn’t sleep unless he heard you breathing nearby. there were missions where you only survived because his voice screamed your name fast enough.
you trusted each other with the real ugly things. the nightmares of his past and your rage that you couldn’t protect him back then.
one particularly horrible night, after losing people during cleanup, enjin came back drunk enough to stumble. you found him sitting outside headquarters alone in the rain.
in the fucking rain. enjin, your best friend, the man who hated rain more than anything, sat in the rain. his umbreaker unopened.
that scared you shitless.
but you sat next to him and if you’d sit here the whole night you wouldn’t mind. he looked so exhausted and everything hurt in you.
“hey.” you nudged your shoulder against his.
nothing.
“enjin.”
his voice came rough. “you ever get tired?”
“all the time,” you whispered.
“no.” he swallowed. “tired of surviving.”
the rain soaked both of you. you could’ve answered honestly and said yes. because sometimes you did, even when you’d never leave him behind.
“well,” you muttered, “kinda hard to die when i still owe you money.”
a laugh broke out of him suddenly. it sounded so ugly, so raw and real. you hated it as much as you loved it.
“you’re so stupid.”
“ride or die, remember?”
that made him finally look at you and there was that dangerous quietness in his eyes again. he loved you in a language neither of you had learned yet.
before any of you could dwell on it he reached over and shoved your face. in return you smacked the strand of hair that somehow stuck out at the top of his head.
“you’re still buying me food tomorrow.”
okay. now you had to shove him. all bets are off. “go to hell.”
“only if you come too.”
“hah! you thought i’d let you go alone? nope. we’re in this together.”
and maybe that was the problem, because shit was about to hit the fan.
let’s start from the beginning, alright?
two weeks after that rainy night you met someone. wasn’t love at first sight, you weren’t silly like that. but despite you wearing one of enjin’s old shirts and haven’t washed your hair in three days this man flirted with you.
so yeah. enjin was about to become a hater, because he fucking hated to hear your date’s name.
… okay, that was dramatic. it mildly annoyed him. irritated. yes. he was deeply, irrationally irritated.
“his name’s haru,” you corrected while pulling boots on near the headquarters entrance. “not hiro.”
“whatever.”
“you’ve called him four different names.”
“because i don’t care enough to remember.”
you snorted. “you’re acting like he murdered your family.”
enjin leaned against the wall with crossed arms. “i just think anyone who slicks their hair back that much is hiding something.”
“he’s literally a mechanic.”
“exactly. suspicious profession.”
“that makes no sense.”
“it makes perfect sense.”
the truth was: enjin had known about the date for three days and had been in a terrible mood ever since.
the others didn’t notice a change or they did. who the fuck knows. important was that enjin became a mopey motherfucker.
he got rougher during sparring. smoked more cigarettes. snapped faster at people. slept less. didn’t sleep in your bed anymore.
apparently you also weren’t the brightest candle on the cake, because you kept mentioning the date’s name. and every time you mentioned the date, something ugly twisted in his chest. something real ugly roared in there and wanted out.
it made him feel insane, because this was you - his best friend and ride or die.
of course you’d date eventually. of course you’d meet people. hell, he whored around like he got paid for it and you never complained.
why did you never complain? except when he smelled like cheap perfume and pussy juices. huh????
anyway.
why did it suddenly feel like standing at the edge of something collapsing?
why did he keep imagining another man in your room?
another man making you laugh. another man touching you.
enjin hated it so much his jaw hurt from grinding his teeth. he might actually threw up on you anytime soon. would be only fair since you liked to throw up on his boots when you had a drink too much.
even steven.
“you think this shirt works?” you asked suddenly.
he looked up and immediately regretted it. you wore one of those tighter tops that showed the shape of your body without trying too hard. casual. pretty. effortless in a way that punched the air out of him unexpectedly.
his stomach dropped. fuck you.
“why’re you staring?” you asked.
“i’m not.”
“you absolutely are.”
“ugly shirt.”
“you’re jealous because i look good.”
“you look like you’re about to scam someone.”
you laughed so hard you snorted like a pig. fuck, that laugh. he loved that laugh.
then he looked away. enjin didn’t look away. never. that wasn’t his thing. you narrowed your eyes suspiciously.
“you sick or something?”
“sick of you,” he replied.
“ooooha,” you gasped. “you’ve been weird all week.”
“i’m always weird.”
“not like this.”
you stepped closer, squinting at him while grabbing his jaw roughly between your fingers. normally enjin would’ve shoved you away instantly and then you’d roughhouse on the floor until some clothing tore. or someone bled.
instead he froze weirdly and since you found him so weird you put your hand on his forehead.
“you got a fever?”
there it was again - that awful tight feeling in his chest. enjin slapped your hand away harder than intended.
“i’m fine.”
okay. nothing was fine and you hated these moments where you couldn’t read him.
“you sure?”
the concern in your voice nearly killed him. so he did what he always did when emotions got too close - he grinned.
rewind. REWIND.
you actually hated this mean, ugly, crooked grin he showed now. it was fake, but you knew pushing him now would only lead to bad things.
it happened once and you hadn’t talked to him for a week.
“worried about me, sweetheart?”
you hid the cringe. you weren’t sweetheart or any other dumb nickname. he called you mostly by your name or a shortened version of it. but no. nope.
“there he is,” you sighed dramatically. “thought someone kidnapped you.”
“please. i’d escape.”
“your personality alone would make them return you.”
“true.”
the weirdness passed or pretended to, until later that night. because apparently you still didn’t understand. you dumb little thing.
enjin sat in your room sprawled across your bed while you dug through clothes, muttering angrily to yourself.
“you own too much garbage,” he commented.
“says the man wearing the same coat for six years.”
“it’s sentimental.”
“it smells like smoke and bad decisions.”
“which is sentimental.”
you threw a shirt at his face and he caught it lazily. he was about to throw it at your head when you suddenly sat next to him.
“enjin.”
“hm?”
“i need a favor.”
“depends.”
you looked strangely serious now and that immediately made him nervous. sure, you had your serious moments, but that was a strange one. what the hell?
“what favor?”
you hesitated. your mouth opened, then closed, then opened. you might had a stroke.
“teach me how to kiss,” you blurted out suddenly.
silence.
enjin stared at you like you had lost the plot completely. then he full on belly laughed. “ain’t no way.”
“i’m serious.”
“you’re asking me?”
“yes.”
“why?”
“because i trust you.”
the laughter died instantly. you looked genuinely embarrassed now, rubbing the back of your neck.
“i just…” you muttered. “i don’t wanna look stupid tomorrow.”
tomorrow. the date. something hot and ugly flared in enjin’s chest again.
“you’ve never kissed anyone?” he asked.
“not properly.”
“huh.”
the manwhore and the virgin - a match made in heaven. or hell.
you shoved his shoulder. “don’t make it weird.”
“i’m trying not to.”
“please?”
enjin rubbed a hand down his face. “this is a terrible idea.”
“why?”
see? the lights were on, but nobody was home.
and because he already felt like tearing apart a man he’d never met. your lips was all he’d been thinking about for three days straight and if… if he kissed you once he wasn’t sure he’d stop.
instead he groaned, “you’re unbelievable.”
he grabbed your chin suddenly and you gasped softly. the sound alone almost was his undoing.
“relax,” he murmured automatically.
you looked at him with wide eyes, trusting. you trusted him so much. fuck fuck fuck.
he leaned forward slowly, giving you the chance to pull back. a part of him begged you’d do so.
now it was supposed to be quick. a stupid little peck to show how to angle the face and that your noses should never bump.
that was okay for friends helping each other, right?
oh boy.
his lips brushed yours softly, warm. then he pulled back already and it should be over.
the room went dead silent.
enjin could hear your breathing. could you hear his heart in return?
“that’s it?” you whispered.
his eyes flicked down to your mouth again as he swallowed hard. “yeah.”
“oh.”
something about your disappointed little sound snapped the last thread of his self-control. you were about to learn.
enjin kissed you harder this time. your startled inhale went straight into his mouth.
suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore.
his hand tightened against your jaw while your fingers grabbed his shirt instantly. you kissed him back without hesitation.
fuck, you were so messy and clumsy kissing him. went straight to his groin too.
years of affection buried underneath bruises and laughter and late nights came crashing out all at once.
enjin pushed you backward onto the mattress without even thinking. you made a soft noise against his mouth that nearly ruined him. his body pressed over yours automatically, one hand beside your head while the other gripped your waist tight enough to leave marks.
the kiss deepened and became so fucking hungry as he devoured your mouth. licked and bit and spit and everything in between.
he lost it all together when your fingers slid into his hair and enjin actually groaned roughly.
he’d been starving for your lips.
when he finally pulled away both of you were breathing hard. your lips swollen and his forehead pressed against yours.
he was so goddamn hard that one more kiss and he’d come untouched. and shit. is that your pussy he smelled? fuck. it was, wasn’t it?
then you whispered weakly, “i think you’re a really good teacher.”
enjin stared at you for one long second before he laughed breathlessly against your mouth. then his lips found yours again.
oh fucking hell.
it was over before it really started and you both could talk about it. or at least sort out your feelings for yourselves.
remember the date? yeah, it was still happening.
enjin actually hated it even more now.
look at you wearing perfume, making you smell all womanly and sweetly. and that you were nervous and stared like a lost puppy.
he hated the fact you spent twenty whole minutes asking him which earrings looked better like he was some kind of relationship expert. oh, and he especially hated the fact another man was about to touch you after that kiss.
that fucking kiss.
enjin had barely slept that night. every time he closed his eyes, he felt your mouth against his again. your hands in his hair. the tiny sound you made when he pinned you against the mattress. it replayed over and over until he thought he might genuinely lose his mind.
he actually had cummed so often that night that his dick was raw now. thank you very fucking much.
and you still went on the damn date, like you hadn’t shattered his entire universe the night before.
“relax your face,” you complained before leaving. “you look homicidal.”
“i’m homicidal.”
“you’re being dramatic.”
“you kissed me and now you’re leaving with another man.”
the sentence slipped out before he could stop it. you stopped in the doorway and enjin hated having a tongue. or vocal cords.
at least you had the dignity to blush. “i’ll be back later.”
the door shut. you really had left. holy shit.
enjin stared at the door for five whole seconds, then immediately punched the wall.
“fuck.”
gris found him thirty minutes later outside headquarters smoking aggressively enough to probably shorten his lifespan. if a heart attack wouldn’t get him first.
“you look horrible,” gris observed. chill as ever. fuck him too.
“go away.”
“ouch.”
enjin glared at nothing, because his thoughts were unbearable.
were you holding hands with that guy right now?
were you laughing?
was he touching your waist?
was he kissing you?
enjin’s stomach twisted violently. the cigarette snapped between his fingers.
“damn,” gris said. “you’re gone gone.”
“shut up.”
“you finally realized you’re in love with her?”
enjin shot him a murderous look. how dare he to speak that out loud.
gris raised both hands immediately. “okay. touchy subject.”
love. the word echoed unpleasantly in his head, because maybe that was the problem.
maybe this thing had stopped being friendship a long time ago and neither of you noticed because it had always been too messy to define.
enjin had loved you every single time he chose your side without hesitation. every time he slept easier hearing your breathing nearby. every time he thought: if she dies, i’ll burn this world down with her.
he’d been doomed for years.
“you know,” gris continued, “if she kissed you and still went on the date, she’s probably freaking out too.”
“not helping.”
“you look like you wanna hit someone.”
“i do.”
“her date?”
“yes.”
“see? love.”
enjin flipped him off. he actually considered lunging at him for shits and giggles. you know getting it out of the system, but then—
BANG.
the headquarters door slammed open so hard both men jumped. you stormed inside looking absolutely wrecked. your eyes were swollen red and your mascara was smeared.
for a split second enjin thought that man had done something to him and today he’d soak his entire soul in blood. and he’d laugh doing it.
at least until you marched straight toward him and started hitting him. you actually beat the ever loving shit out of his chest and shoulders.
“ow! hey!”
“you absolute asshole!” you screamed.
“what the hell happened?!”
“you ruined me!”
enjin grabbed your wrists before you could swing at his nose. he liked that one. still, you were crying so hard you could barely breathe.
gris wisely disappeared immediately.
“what happened?” enjin asked again, completely baffled.
“you!”
“me?”
“yes, you!”
your face crumpled even harder and then you shoved against his chest with a broken sound.
“you made me fall in love with my best friend!”
enjin stared at you, blinking. his entire brain genuinely stopped working. shut down. shut down.
“what?”
you looked furious that he didn’t immediately understand. you kicked his shin.
“with you, idiot!” you sobbed. “i’m in love with you!”
enjin’s mouth opened, but nothing to hear. you kept crying.
“i went there and he was nice and sweet and normal and then he tried to hold my hand and all i could think was that it wasn’t yours—”
his heart nearly exploded. it was happening. it was really happening. this wasn’t a drill.
“and then he kissed me and i hated it because he wasn’t you and now everything’s ruined—”
something hysterical bubbled up in enjin’s chest suddenly - a laugh.
he tried to stop it and failed horribly. you stared at him in betrayal while tears streamed down your face.
“are you laughing?!”
enjin bent forward wheezing. no, he wasn’t laughing about you. it was the relief that hit him so hard he thought he might collapse.
“you’re unbelievable,” he gasped.
“i’m having a crisis!”
“you’re in love with me?”
“stop sounding so happy about it!”
that only made him laugh harder. everything broke inside you and your expression fell completely.
“oh my—,” you whispered miserably. “you don’t feel the same.”
that wiped the laughter off his face instantly. no, no, no. you misunderstood and he needed to make you understand.
he grabbed your cheeks so fast you startled.
“hey,” he said firmly and your wet eyes lifted to his. “i’ve been in love with you so long i forgot there was supposed to be a before.”
your breath caught and enjin smiled. it was such a soft smile that you pouted, because it was so cute.
“i just didn’t realize you were too.”
you made the most wounded little noise he’d ever heard before crashing into him. enjin caught you automatically. your arms wrapped around his neck while you cried into his shoulder, still hiccuping angry tears.
“you’re so stupid,” you mumbled.
“you punched me.”
“you deserved it.”
“probably.”
he held you tighter, because he’d been waiting to do it properly for years. slowly he tilted your face up and you were so fucking wrecked. eyes swollen and mascara was even at your forehead.
the most beautiful disaster he had ever seen.
“you done crying?” he murmured.
“no.”
“good enough.”
his lips crashed to yours and you sobbed into his mouth. only made him smile like some idiot.
but the hesitation was gone and replaced by certainty as your fingers curled into his coat. and you kissed him back through shaky breaths and leftover tears.
enjin smiled wider against your mouth. when you accidentally laughed mid-kiss because you were still crying too hard, he kissed you again anyway.
your real first kiss. so fucking messy and tender and perfect. enjin won’t forget it until his last breath.
꒰ ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅɪᴇ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ enjin is your best friend… until one day you’ve a date.
enjin had once punched a man for you before he even knew your name - that was the kind of friendship the two of you had.
despite you being a woman there was nothing sweet about. he didn’t treat you like some delicate flower, or some damsel in distress.
you were his best friend, and the two of you were loud wherever you went. violent sometimes too.
the kind of best friends that shoved each other into walls while laughing. the kind that stole food off each other’s plates with zero hesitation. the kind that survived the pit together and came out of it meaner, rougher, inseparable.
everyone in the cleaners knew it too.
“those two are freaks,” riyo once muttered after watching you and enjin wrestle over the last fried dumpling until both of you ended up crashing through a chair.
you had your arm around enjin’s neck, trying to choke him out while he barked laughter loud enough to shake the room.
“tap out then,” you grunted.
“eat shit.”
“you first.”
“you literally bite people when you lose,” he accused and… yeah.
“only you.”
enjin looked the fucking happiest when he was with you. a bit like a golden retriever getting snacks.
freer too, like the weight on his shoulders stopped crushing him for a little while, and the umbrella didn’t feel so heavy.
the thing was that you two spent almost every second together once the missions were over. if one disappeared, everyone automatically assumed the other one was nearby.
even when you fought (you did that a lot), and you were mad at each other you still were attached by the hip. back to back, spitting insults over the shoulders like some damn five years olds.
you sat on rooftops together drinking cheap liquor straight from the bottle. you patched each other’s wounds without gentleness. you stole cigarettes from each other’s mouths. shared meals. shared blankets. shared silence.
one night, after a mission nearly went wrong, enjin showed up at your room bleeding through his side. you opened the door, took one look at him, and sighed.
“you’re getting blood on my floor again.”
“missed you too.”
then he nearly collapsed forward. you caught him with a curse, dragging his heavy body inside while he laughed weakly into your shoulder.
“you’re huge,” you complained.
“you love it.”
“i’m about to leave you outside for garbage collection, fatass.”
“wouldn’t be your first crime.”
you stitched him up sitting on the bathroom sink while he hissed through clenched teeth. that old drama queen.
“hold still.”
“you’re sewing me like an ugly sweater.”
“that’s because you move like an ugly sweater.”
“mean.”
“you’ll live.”
“that’s all you got to say after i almost died?”
you snorted. “if you died, i’d kill you myself.”
enjin smiled, because that sentence meant more coming from you than anyone else.
you stayed awake with him afterward, both of you sitting on the floor with your backs against the bed. his shoulder pressed against yours while rain hammered outside.
rain was bad anyway. rain also meant sleepless nights
at some point he handed you the bottle.
at some point his head dropped onto your lap.
at some point you fell asleep too.
that was normal. everything with you was normal, even the disgusting parts.
… especially the disgusting parts.
“you drool like a damn animal,” enjin groaned one morning.
you blinked awake against his chest. “huh?”
“my shirt’s soaked.”
“you snore into my ear like a dying engine.”
“you elbowed me in your sleep.”
“you deserved it somehow.”
“see? evil.”
“still sleeping here tonight?”
“obviously.”
you were tangled together on his mattress like survivors after war. your leg thrown over his waist. his arm numb underneath your body. neither of you moved away.
nobody from the cleaners understood it.
semiu once stared at the two of you sharing a cigarette outside headquarters and finally asked, “so are you together or what?”
you and enjin looked at each other, then burst into laughter. the one where tears appeared in your eyes and you grunted so cutely.
“you hear this shit?” he wheezed.
“she thinks we’re romantic,” you gasped.
“that’s insulting.”
“actually offensive.”
semiu looked irritated. “you sleep in the same bed.”
“yeah.”
“you hold hands sometimes.”
“that’s tactical.”
“you literally kissed his forehead yesterday.”
you blinked and enjin blinked too. alright, that creeped semiu out.
“had a fever.”
“thank you,” you added immediately.
semiu walked away muttering curses under her breath. then went straight to gossip it what she witnessed to gris. he was just as confused as the rest.
meanwhile neither of you thought about it again, because this thing between you had become its own creature years ago.
it was too wild to label and too familiar to question.
enjin knew how many scars you had without looking. you knew every single expression hidden underneath his mask.
he knew when your smile was fake. you knew when his anger came from fear instead.
there were nights he couldn’t sleep unless he heard you breathing nearby. there were missions where you only survived because his voice screamed your name fast enough.
you trusted each other with the real ugly things. the nightmares of his past and your rage that you couldn’t protect him back then.
one particularly horrible night, after losing people during cleanup, enjin came back drunk enough to stumble. you found him sitting outside headquarters alone in the rain.
in the fucking rain. enjin, your best friend, the man who hated rain more than anything, sat in the rain. his umbreaker unopened.
that scared you shitless.
but you sat next to him and if you’d sit here the whole night you wouldn’t mind. he looked so exhausted and everything hurt in you.
“hey.” you nudged your shoulder against his.
nothing.
“enjin.”
his voice came rough. “you ever get tired?”
“all the time,” you whispered.
“no.” he swallowed. “tired of surviving.”
the rain soaked both of you. you could’ve answered honestly and said yes. because sometimes you did, even when you’d never leave him behind.
“well,” you muttered, “kinda hard to die when i still owe you money.”
a laugh broke out of him suddenly. it sounded so ugly, so raw and real. you hated it as much as you loved it.
“you’re so stupid.”
“ride or die, remember?”
that made him finally look at you and there was that dangerous quietness in his eyes again. he loved you in a language neither of you had learned yet.
before any of you could dwell on it he reached over and shoved your face. in return you smacked the strand of hair that somehow stuck out at the top of his head.
“you’re still buying me food tomorrow.”
okay. now you had to shove him. all bets are off. “go to hell.”
“only if you come too.”
“hah! you thought i’d let you go alone? nope. we’re in this together.”
and maybe that was the problem, because shit was about to hit the fan.
let’s start from the beginning, alright?
two weeks after that rainy night you met someone. wasn’t love at first sight, you weren’t silly like that. but despite you wearing one of enjin’s old shirts and haven’t washed your hair in three days this man flirted with you.
so yeah. enjin was about to become a hater, because he fucking hated to hear your date’s name.
… okay, that was dramatic. it mildly annoyed him. irritated. yes. he was deeply, irrationally irritated.
“his name’s haru,” you corrected while pulling boots on near the headquarters entrance. “not hiro.”
“whatever.”
“you’ve called him four different names.”
“because i don’t care enough to remember.”
you snorted. “you’re acting like he murdered your family.”
enjin leaned against the wall with crossed arms. “i just think anyone who slicks their hair back that much is hiding something.”
“he’s literally a mechanic.”
“exactly. suspicious profession.”
“that makes no sense.”
“it makes perfect sense.”
the truth was: enjin had known about the date for three days and had been in a terrible mood ever since.
the others didn’t notice a change or they did. who the fuck knows. important was that enjin became a mopey motherfucker.
he got rougher during sparring. smoked more cigarettes. snapped faster at people. slept less. didn’t sleep in your bed anymore.
apparently you also weren’t the brightest candle on the cake, because you kept mentioning the date’s name. and every time you mentioned the date, something ugly twisted in his chest. something real ugly roared in there and wanted out.
it made him feel insane, because this was you - his best friend and ride or die.
of course you’d date eventually. of course you’d meet people. hell, he whored around like he got paid for it and you never complained.
why did you never complain? except when he smelled like cheap perfume and pussy juices. huh????
anyway.
why did it suddenly feel like standing at the edge of something collapsing?
why did he keep imagining another man in your room?
another man making you laugh. another man touching you.
enjin hated it so much his jaw hurt from grinding his teeth. he might actually threw up on you anytime soon. would be only fair since you liked to throw up on his boots when you had a drink too much.
even steven.
“you think this shirt works?” you asked suddenly.
he looked up and immediately regretted it. you wore one of those tighter tops that showed the shape of your body without trying too hard. casual. pretty. effortless in a way that punched the air out of him unexpectedly.
his stomach dropped. fuck you.
“why’re you staring?” you asked.
“i’m not.”
“you absolutely are.”
“ugly shirt.”
“you’re jealous because i look good.”
“you look like you’re about to scam someone.”
you laughed so hard you snorted like a pig. fuck, that laugh. he loved that laugh.
then he looked away. enjin didn’t look away. never. that wasn’t his thing. you narrowed your eyes suspiciously.
“you sick or something?”
“sick of you,” he replied.
“ooooha,” you gasped. “you’ve been weird all week.”
“i’m always weird.”
“not like this.”
you stepped closer, squinting at him while grabbing his jaw roughly between your fingers. normally enjin would’ve shoved you away instantly and then you’d roughhouse on the floor until some clothing tore. or someone bled.
instead he froze weirdly and since you found him so weird you put your hand on his forehead.
“you got a fever?”
there it was again - that awful tight feeling in his chest. enjin slapped your hand away harder than intended.
“i’m fine.”
okay. nothing was fine and you hated these moments where you couldn’t read him.
“you sure?”
the concern in your voice nearly killed him. so he did what he always did when emotions got too close - he grinned.
rewind. REWIND.
you actually hated this mean, ugly, crooked grin he showed now. it was fake, but you knew pushing him now would only lead to bad things.
it happened once and you hadn’t talked to him for a week.
“worried about me, sweetheart?”
you hid the cringe. you weren’t sweetheart or any other dumb nickname. he called you mostly by your name or a shortened version of it. but no. nope.
“there he is,” you sighed dramatically. “thought someone kidnapped you.”
“please. i’d escape.”
“your personality alone would make them return you.”
“true.”
the weirdness passed or pretended to, until later that night. because apparently you still didn’t understand. you dumb little thing.
enjin sat in your room sprawled across your bed while you dug through clothes, muttering angrily to yourself.
“you own too much garbage,” he commented.
“says the man wearing the same coat for six years.”
“it’s sentimental.”
“it smells like smoke and bad decisions.”
“which is sentimental.”
you threw a shirt at his face and he caught it lazily. he was about to throw it at your head when you suddenly sat next to him.
“enjin.”
“hm?”
“i need a favor.”
“depends.”
you looked strangely serious now and that immediately made him nervous. sure, you had your serious moments, but that was a strange one. what the hell?
“what favor?”
you hesitated. your mouth opened, then closed, then opened. you might had a stroke.
“teach me how to kiss,” you blurted out suddenly.
silence.
enjin stared at you like you had lost the plot completely. then he full on belly laughed. “ain’t no way.”
“i’m serious.”
“you’re asking me?”
“yes.”
“why?”
“because i trust you.”
the laughter died instantly. you looked genuinely embarrassed now, rubbing the back of your neck.
“i just…” you muttered. “i don’t wanna look stupid tomorrow.”
tomorrow. the date. something hot and ugly flared in enjin’s chest again.
“you’ve never kissed anyone?” he asked.
“not properly.”
“huh.”
the manwhore and the virgin - a match made in heaven. or hell.
you shoved his shoulder. “don’t make it weird.”
“i’m trying not to.”
“please?”
enjin rubbed a hand down his face. “this is a terrible idea.”
“why?”
see? the lights were on, but nobody was home.
and because he already felt like tearing apart a man he’d never met. your lips was all he’d been thinking about for three days straight and if… if he kissed you once he wasn’t sure he’d stop.
instead he groaned, “you’re unbelievable.”
he grabbed your chin suddenly and you gasped softly. the sound alone almost was his undoing.
“relax,” he murmured automatically.
you looked at him with wide eyes, trusting. you trusted him so much. fuck fuck fuck.
he leaned forward slowly, giving you the chance to pull back. a part of him begged you’d do so.
now it was supposed to be quick. a stupid little peck to show how to angle the face and that your noses should never bump.
that was okay for friends helping each other, right?
oh boy.
his lips brushed yours softly, warm. then he pulled back already and it should be over.
the room went dead silent.
enjin could hear your breathing. could you hear his heart in return?
“that’s it?” you whispered.
his eyes flicked down to your mouth again as he swallowed hard. “yeah.”
“oh.”
something about your disappointed little sound snapped the last thread of his self-control. you were about to learn.
enjin kissed you harder this time. your startled inhale went straight into his mouth.
suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore.
his hand tightened against your jaw while your fingers grabbed his shirt instantly. you kissed him back without hesitation.
fuck, you were so messy and clumsy kissing him. went straight to his groin too.
years of affection buried underneath bruises and laughter and late nights came crashing out all at once.
enjin pushed you backward onto the mattress without even thinking. you made a soft noise against his mouth that nearly ruined him. his body pressed over yours automatically, one hand beside your head while the other gripped your waist tight enough to leave marks.
the kiss deepened and became so fucking hungry as he devoured your mouth. licked and bit and spit and everything in between.
he lost it all together when your fingers slid into his hair and enjin actually groaned roughly.
he’d been starving for your lips.
when he finally pulled away both of you were breathing hard. your lips swollen and his forehead pressed against yours.
he was so goddamn hard that one more kiss and he’d come untouched. and shit. is that your pussy he smelled? fuck. it was, wasn’t it?
then you whispered weakly, “i think you’re a really good teacher.”
enjin stared at you for one long second before he laughed breathlessly against your mouth. then his lips found yours again.
oh fucking hell.
it was over before it really started and you both could talk about it. or at least sort out your feelings for yourselves.
remember the date? yeah, it was still happening.
enjin actually hated it even more now.
look at you wearing perfume, making you smell all womanly and sweetly. and that you were nervous and stared like a lost puppy.
he hated the fact you spent twenty whole minutes asking him which earrings looked better like he was some kind of relationship expert. oh, and he especially hated the fact another man was about to touch you after that kiss.
that fucking kiss.
enjin had barely slept that night. every time he closed his eyes, he felt your mouth against his again. your hands in his hair. the tiny sound you made when he pinned you against the mattress. it replayed over and over until he thought he might genuinely lose his mind.
he actually had cummed so often that night that his dick was raw now. thank you very fucking much.
and you still went on the damn date, like you hadn’t shattered his entire universe the night before.
“relax your face,” you complained before leaving. “you look homicidal.”
“i’m homicidal.”
“you’re being dramatic.”
“you kissed me and now you’re leaving with another man.”
the sentence slipped out before he could stop it. you stopped in the doorway and enjin hated having a tongue. or vocal cords.
at least you had the dignity to blush. “i’ll be back later.”
the door shut. you really had left. holy shit.
enjin stared at the door for five whole seconds, then immediately punched the wall.
“fuck.”
gris found him thirty minutes later outside headquarters smoking aggressively enough to probably shorten his lifespan. if a heart attack wouldn’t get him first.
“you look horrible,” gris observed. chill as ever. fuck him too.
“go away.”
“ouch.”
enjin glared at nothing, because his thoughts were unbearable.
were you holding hands with that guy right now?
were you laughing?
was he touching your waist?
was he kissing you?
enjin’s stomach twisted violently. the cigarette snapped between his fingers.
“damn,” gris said. “you’re gone gone.”
“shut up.”
“you finally realized you’re in love with her?”
enjin shot him a murderous look. how dare he to speak that out loud.
gris raised both hands immediately. “okay. touchy subject.”
love. the word echoed unpleasantly in his head, because maybe that was the problem.
maybe this thing had stopped being friendship a long time ago and neither of you noticed because it had always been too messy to define.
enjin had loved you every single time he chose your side without hesitation. every time he slept easier hearing your breathing nearby. every time he thought: if she dies, i’ll burn this world down with her.
he’d been doomed for years.
“you know,” gris continued, “if she kissed you and still went on the date, she’s probably freaking out too.”
“not helping.”
“you look like you wanna hit someone.”
“i do.”
“her date?”
“yes.”
“see? love.”
enjin flipped him off. he actually considered lunging at him for shits and giggles. you know getting it out of the system, but then—
BANG.
the headquarters door slammed open so hard both men jumped. you stormed inside looking absolutely wrecked. your eyes were swollen red and your mascara was smeared.
for a split second enjin thought that man had done something to him and today he’d soak his entire soul in blood. and he’d laugh doing it.
at least until you marched straight toward him and started hitting him. you actually beat the ever loving shit out of his chest and shoulders.
“ow! hey!”
“you absolute asshole!” you screamed.
“what the hell happened?!”
“you ruined me!”
enjin grabbed your wrists before you could swing at his nose. he liked that one. still, you were crying so hard you could barely breathe.
gris wisely disappeared immediately.
“what happened?” enjin asked again, completely baffled.
“you!”
“me?”
“yes, you!”
your face crumpled even harder and then you shoved against his chest with a broken sound.
“you made me fall in love with my best friend!”
enjin stared at you, blinking. his entire brain genuinely stopped working. shut down. shut down.
“what?”
you looked furious that he didn’t immediately understand. you kicked his shin.
“with you, idiot!” you sobbed. “i’m in love with you!”
enjin’s mouth opened, but nothing to hear. you kept crying.
“i went there and he was nice and sweet and normal and then he tried to hold my hand and all i could think was that it wasn’t yours—”
his heart nearly exploded. it was happening. it was really happening. this wasn’t a drill.
“and then he kissed me and i hated it because he wasn’t you and now everything’s ruined—”
something hysterical bubbled up in enjin’s chest suddenly - a laugh.
he tried to stop it and failed horribly. you stared at him in betrayal while tears streamed down your face.
“are you laughing?!”
enjin bent forward wheezing. no, he wasn’t laughing about you. it was the relief that hit him so hard he thought he might collapse.
“you’re unbelievable,” he gasped.
“i’m having a crisis!”
“you’re in love with me?”
“stop sounding so happy about it!”
that only made him laugh harder. everything broke inside you and your expression fell completely.
“oh my—,” you whispered miserably. “you don’t feel the same.”
that wiped the laughter off his face instantly. no, no, no. you misunderstood and he needed to make you understand.
he grabbed your cheeks so fast you startled.
“hey,” he said firmly and your wet eyes lifted to his. “i’ve been in love with you so long i forgot there was supposed to be a before.”
your breath caught and enjin smiled. it was such a soft smile that you pouted, because it was so cute.
“i just didn’t realize you were too.”
you made the most wounded little noise he’d ever heard before crashing into him. enjin caught you automatically. your arms wrapped around his neck while you cried into his shoulder, still hiccuping angry tears.
“you’re so stupid,” you mumbled.
“you punched me.”
“you deserved it.”
“probably.”
he held you tighter, because he’d been waiting to do it properly for years. slowly he tilted your face up and you were so fucking wrecked. eyes swollen and mascara was even at your forehead.
the most beautiful disaster he had ever seen.
“you done crying?” he murmured.
“no.”
“good enough.”
his lips crashed to yours and you sobbed into his mouth. only made him smile like some idiot.
but the hesitation was gone and replaced by certainty as your fingers curled into his coat. and you kissed him back through shaky breaths and leftover tears.
enjin smiled wider against your mouth. when you accidentally laughed mid-kiss because you were still crying too hard, he kissed you again anyway.
your real first kiss. so fucking messy and tender and perfect. enjin won’t forget it until his last breath.
