I Just Know Whenever You Bend Down To Pick Something Up Aizawa Instinctively Covers Any Table/ Furniture

i just know whenever you bend down to pick something up aizawa instinctively covers any table/ furniture edges with his hand so you wouldn’t hurt yourself on them

he’s super protective of you and wouldn’t let you get hurt ever, yet when you do walk up to him with a bruised knee or an injury in general he sighs but in his mind loses it at the thought of you actually getting injured badly

He’s just so afraid of losing you/ having you hurt :(

a/n: this inspired me so here's a lil drabble nonnoe bc u are so fucking right 😍

warnings: death and injury mention, body horror imagery i think, nightmares, kinda angsty but also fluff if you squint

gn!reader

he's seen it one too many times. his classmates when he was in high school. his friends when he's out on missions. his students now that he's a teacher.

he's seen broken bodies, smashed bones, what seems like gallons of blood that flowed across ground.

shouta can't help but panic a little when he sees a bruise or cut. his instinct to protect you, to make sure you're always safe kicks in. he can't help it that when you bend down to reach something, his hand automatically positions itself that you don't bump your head. or how he instinctively puts himself in between you and the road when walking down the sidewalk.

he knows that it might seem obsessive, but if you don't mind his protective instincts, than what does it matter? he just can't bare the thought of you, your perfect and wonderful self, torn to shreds. ripped apart. he can't bare the thought of a coffin and gravestone with your name engraved into it.

though a little bruise on your knee may seem minor, he holds you tightly for the rest of the day. images of you laying in a pool of your own blood flashing through his mind.

and you know. you understand. you let him hold you, whispering reassurances, cuddling him closer. you smile at him when he moves his hand after your head pops up. you comfort him when tears come in the middle of the night. when the nightmares are so bad he jolts awake, trembling in your hold with wet cheeks. you see all of that and you love him regardless.

you're all he has. he can't loose you.

this is a work of fiction that belongs to @/k0dzu1. do not copy, translate, or repost.

in the lane

bakugou x reader wc: 1.7k cw: christmas fluff, regular fluff, implied heavy petting

You lazily tug your boots off and leave them in a heap next to the couch in the foyer of the Dynamight agency. You're the only person here on Christmas Eve, everyone else having gone home to trade in their hero names for names like "Mom" and "Dad" and "Rich Wine Aunt." 

Being alone on Christmas isn't so bad, really. You finally get one quiet night to yourself. Sure, you were on call to respond to any emergencies, but it seemed even villains took a holiday break, as you'd covered the Christmas graveyard shift three years in a row and never had to so much as stop a purse-snatcher or get a cat out of a tree. 

There's a huge Christmas tree set up in the main lobby, at least 15 feet tall with green and orange ornaments hung in alternating patterns. You pass it on your way to the kitchen to grab some snacks and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. You pop the bottle, letting the foam drip into the sink, before pouring yourself a glass and then heading back to the seating area in the foyer. 

The heavier accessories for your hero costume lie on one couch, and a mountain of blankets and your laptop lie on another. You curl up into a nest of blankets, positioning your phone and the police radio close to you so that you'll be quick to receive any notifications - just in case - and then open your laptop and settle in for your annual movie night. 

"Happy holidays, Dave," you say to the security camera positioned in the far corner of the room, raising your glass. The camera slowly tilts up, then down, making a mechanical whirring sound the entire time. Dave, the remote building security guard, is your annual Christmas companion. Last year you'd climbed on top of a chair and held a piece of paper with your phone number on it up to the lens, and now Dave sporadically texts you with office gossip he's privy to thanks to his position overseeing the security cameras from wherever he actually lived. 

Yeah, Dave's cool. 

You sip your non-alcoholic bubbly and start your first movie. The police radio and your phone both stay quiet and you're nearly halfway through the third movie of a high fantasy trilogy when you hear some commotion at the front door. 

The clock on the wall says it's 5am - time for the Christmas morning skeleton crew to take over. And so passes another uneventful Christmas Eve. 

Slowly, you untangle yourself from the mess of blankets and head to the door to help them in. "Dave, can you get the lights?" you call out. As the main overheads of the agency turn on, you see that it's actually only one person at the door, and it's who you'd least expect - the big man himself. Dynamight. 

"Sir?" you say tentatively, cocking your head to the side, as you open the door for your boss. 

"Thanks," he grumbles as he slips past you. 

He's in sweats, a beanie covering the mess of blonde hair on his head. Even then, he's stupidly handsome. And still impossible to figure out. 

"Is... everything okay?" you call after him.

He stops in his tracks. "What?" His voice is gruff. 

"I just--" you look away from him instinctively, even though he has his back turned towards you, "--what are you doing here?" 

"I'm the morning shift. Taking over. You can go home." 

"You're the morning shift?" 

He sighs, heavily. "Yeah, what did you expect?" 

"I don't know," you wave your hand in the air, "someone like me who doesn't have anywhere to be. Don't you have a wife and kids?" 

Now he finally turns to look at you. "No? Who the fuck told you I have a wife and kids?" 

You shrug. "I dunno, everyone in the office thinks you have a secret family." 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Well, I don't. Now, get the hell out of here, it's a holiday" 

You turn your head slowly towards the security camera and raise your eyebrows at Dave, who you're hoping is seeing your expression from his computer screens.

Dynamight disappears into the locker room, duffel bag and gauntlets slung over his shoulder. 

Your phone buzzes against the hardwood of the table where you'd set up shop last night and you check text on your watch. 

Dave: you should make a move 

"Are you insane?" you whip your head up to glare at the lens of the camera. 

A few moments later: i see how you look at him

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "He's my boss. And he's way out of my league." 

i see how he looks at you

Your cheeks get hot. "Whatever, Dave," you mumble as you start to clean up the blankets and put away your laptop. 

"What're you still doing here?" Dynamight calls from the hallway. You open your mouth to answer, but suddenly the overhead lights shut down and the Christmas tree in the lobby lights up, starting from the bottom, until all of the connected strings illuminate the tree and leave you both in a warm yellow glow. 

You want to say something. Really, you do. But he’s walking towards you, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, the sparkling lights of the tree reflected in his irises, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s staring at you and you’re about to drown in his pupils when he breaks the silence. 

“I’ll check the breaker.” 

You nod quickly. “Sounds good.” 

Then he’s gone again. 

Childishly, you stick your tongue out at the Dave-camera before cleaning up the rest of your blanket nest. A few minutes later, the lights are back on and Dynamight returns to the lobby. 

“Go ahead,” he lifts his chin at you, “I’ll lock the door after you.”

“Where’s the rest of the morning crew?” 

He snorts. “I’m the whole crew. I can handle it on my own.” He moves towards the exit. 

“Actually,” you clear your throat, “I was wondering if you’d like some company on your patrol?” 

He quirks a brow at you. “Why?” 

“So we don’t both have to be alone on Christmas,” you answer, biting your lip. A move that, unbeknownst to you, sends Bakugou’s heart in a tailspin. 

He pauses. “Get your gear on,” he finally replies. 

The patrol, like your evening before, is uneventful. And mostly quiet. You don’t usually have this much time alone with your boss. He keeps his eyes in front of him, chin tucked into the collar of his costume, peering out at the sidewalk in front of him. Everything is closed, so there are no people or cars around. The only thing you hear is the quiet crunch of ice and snow under your boots as you walk alongside him. 

“You always take the Christmas Eve shift?” he asks you while you’re walking back towards the agency. 

You nod. “It’s kinda nice. I like being alone.” 

His expression softens, and a half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Me too.”

The sky transforms from a pale blue to a pinkish-orange sunrise as the patrol goes on, making the snow on the ground sparkle. 

“Why’d you take the Christmas day shift?” you ask him, turning around to walk backwards. 

“Beats bein’ home alone. Or with my parents,” he says, “and ‘s quiet. I like the quiet.”

“Me too,” you echo him. 

“You’re quiet,” he muses.

“I guess I am,” you shrug. 

“Then I guess I like you.” 

It takes you by surprise, and you catch yourself mindlessly staring at him just a moment too late; you’re not looking ahead and you slip on a patch of ice, sending you flying downward on what probably would have been a nasty fall if your boss hadn’t caught you. One of his arms is underneath you, the other gripping on to your shoulder to keep you upright. 

“Thank you,” you say breathlessly. 

“Looks like I had to save someone on this shift after all,” he laughs as he helps you to stand on your own feet again.

He spends the rest of the walk back to the agency teasing you about your clumsiness, and you pretend to hate it, although you’re secretly enjoying the attention from Katsuki - a name he said you should call him. And when a sudden wind sends chills through your body, he pulls you into his side, happy to share his warmth with you. 

cute. says another text from Dave, who can see you both walking arm in arm when you finally make it back. 

You enter the agency to Winter Wonderland playing over the P.A. system. The overhead lights have been dimmed to a soft glow. It might even be a few degrees warmer than it was before. You throw a mean glare towards Dave, mouthing a quick what the fuck. 

“What’s happening?” you ask Katsuki, putting on your best act, not willing to tell him that your friend the security guard was trying to play wingman via nostalgic music and romantic lighting. He’s standing near the tree, looking up towards the P.A. speakers, and you shuffle towards him. 

Just as he turns towards you, there’s a red and green blur in front of your eyes. You blink and realize it’s a mistletoe that’s just fallen down from the ceiling, right in between you and Katsuki.

“How the fuck did you pull this one off?” Katsuki says loudly, looking past you. You turn, but there’s no one there. 

Then it dawns on you. 

“Do you know Dave?” you whisper, and Katsuki’s gaze snaps back to your face. His eyes move back and forth from the mistletoe to your lips. He lets out a shaky laugh, then grabs either side of your face and kisses you. 

Your fingers curl around the collar of his costume and pull him close to you, prolonging the kiss for as long as you can. When you pull away, you eye the security camera, your cheeks getting a little warm. 

“Afternoon crew is almost here,” Katsuki says, “and there’s no cameras in my office.” 

next time

wc: 1.9k

warnings: dabi being a menace (as always), injury and violence mention

You’ve been in a lot of hairy and otherwise life-threatening situations as a pro-hero. There’s the time you got pinned under a car, and that other time you were held at gunpoint. Oh! And there was even one afternoon where you’d ended up strung up by your ankle from a skyscraper window. Dangling 400 feet above cold, hard cement really encourages a person to reconsider their life choices (but apparently not enough to make you quit your job).

So curling up against the cool, stinky metal of a dumpster in some back alley in Hosu City with notorious League of Villains member Dabi crouching in front of you like the cat that got the cream, all things considered, really isn’t that surprising.

Your leg is busted, so you can’t run. And with the heavens above as your witness, you’d tried. The only good it served was to send bile up your throat and white hot pain shooting through the meat of your thigh. Not smart. Your side burns and blood bullies through the gaps between your fingers, sticky and wet from the blast of a scummy criminal some ten minutes earlier. You hunch further against the dumpster, the adrenaline racing from your bloodstream leaves your body feeling tired, limbs leaden. You can’t fight anymore.

Feeling defeated, you huff a sigh and close your eyes. “Here to cut off all my limbs, leave me for dead? Isn’t that what you villains get up to on Monday nights?” 

“Dismemberment isn’t really my thing, doll.”

“Arson then? That seems to be more your speed.”

Dabi offers you a lazy smile. “Arson’s fine.”

“Mmm, nice,” your side throbs and you wince. “Well? Hero barbecue tonight? ‘M sure the League would love that.”

Your comment goes ignored. “It’s nice to see you again, little hero. Rough night?”

Keep reading

ᥫ᭡ — 11:06PM with bakugo

╰➤ gender neutral , pro hero au , no cws

a magazine is thrown onto the coffee table in your living room. you glance up from your phone, attention pulled away from the screen and instead tugged towards the cover placed before you.

you were the face of the latest issue of japan’s biggest hero focused magazine. you appear to be the pinnacle of sophistication and poise — dressed in designer clothing produced specially for that shoot, paired perfectly along with intricate makeup carefully done to enhance your beautiful features.

laughter bubbles up in your chest — of course katsuki got a copy of it for himself. your eyes drift up to meet his own. his eyes stare back at you with pride oozing out of them, delighted at the sight of your showcase.

“my number one fan.” you tease him with a hand pressed dramatically to your chest.

“always,” katsuki leaves a ghost of a kiss to the top of your head. “just thought you looked really pretty.” katsuki leaves a ghost of a kiss to the top of your head. he turns his back to you, walking into the bathroom with a towel strewn across the broad expanse of his shoulders. his lips pull into a smug grin, cheeky and teasing and encompassing the fiery love that comes in the little things that make up katsuki.

your chest wells up in bless, and words of appreciation pour out of your mouth. his boundless support in your endeavors had always touched you deeply, every show moving you just as much as the last. katsuki hums in response, voice sprouting from his chest in a rich rumble. he looks over his shoulder to connect his eyes to your once more.

“that’s my baby.” his voice drawls. he kicks the bathroom door shut behind him, satisfied with evidently filling your heart up with warmth.

love's no problem in my hands

includes: barbatos x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 1.5k | rated g | m.list | cross-posted on ao3

a/n: just had to get this out quick i swear im on hiatus lololol. for @messysketchyobeyme as part of the @omsecretsanta2022 event. i hope you enjoy!!

please reblog <33

Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.

So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.

Barbatos doesn’t know how it started. 

Well, alright, he knows when he first noticed it. But he has a feeling the feelings had been there, building, culminating, for a lot longer than that. 

He first noticed his affection for you on a spring day, one of the warmest the year had seen so far. You’d shed your uniform jacket, rolled up the sleeves, and gone outside during lunch, claiming the quad as your own. Claiming the attention of everyone on the quad. And like moths to a flame, everyone had followed, as they always did. Him included. 

“It feels so nice out,” you’d chirped, face turned up to the non-existent sun, and Barbatos had become aware of a buzz under his skin, a curious warmth that he’d never really felt before. It didn’t take a genius for him to place the feelings, and he accepted them a lot easier than he thought he would, with them clicking into place like the last piece of a previously hidden puzzle. He finally understood what everyone was talking about, finally understood why people were pushed to invent, to create, to conquer in the name of love.

Of course, while he was going through all of these realizations and acceptions, time had moved forward, and you were now surrounded by everyone, with him on the outside, like always, slightly distanced, the few feet like an uncrossable gorge. But you, you with your crooked half-smile and wonderful gleam in your eyes, had looked through, to him, smile somehow widening just for him, and that had made it all okay, made that gorge seem like nothing more than the few feet it actually was.

Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.

So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” you tease, poking him lightly with the blunt end of your pencil. He blinks, coming back to himself, coming back to the club meeting, and gives you a half smile. The club was one you both co-ran, some ‘community wellness’ thing that you were a lot more passionate about than he. But he put his everything in it, for you.

“I apologize, I must have been distracted. Remind me of our discussion,” 

“Barbatos? Distracted?” Your face is bright, cheerful. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Barbatos?” 

“Funny, really,” he returns, and the laugh he is gifted with is quickly saved, pressed into the scrapbook of his memories, to be taken out and admired every now and again, treasured close to his chest. 

“Anyway…” you pull him back into the meeting with vigor, with enthusiasm, as with everything you do, and he lets himself be pulled willingly. What a fool he must be, to take the chains from your hand and wrap them around his wrist himself.

Once the meeting is over you check your D.D.D., cursing. He directs an inquisitive look at you, and you grin guiltily. The school is dark, and mostly empty, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.

“It’s a lot later than I thought it was,” you explain. “Is there any way I can beg a ride off of you? I’d be really thankful.” 

“I suppose,” Barbatos replies, making a show of being long-suffering. You draw out his humor in a way no one else does, and he’s grateful, so immensely grateful, that you see his dry, deadpan remarks for what they are and don’t just think he’s dreadfully boring. 

“Thank you so much!” You squeeze his side in a hug, apparently not feeling the staggering static that emanates from where the two of you touch, that sends shivers of electricity up and down his entire frame. “I owe you one.” 

“You always say that,” he accuses lightly. “At this point, I believe you owe me a lot more than that.” 

“Probably.” You shrug, unrepentant. He really shouldn’t find that shamelessness so charming. 

Being in a car with you is like torture. Torture he can stand, revels in, delights in. 

You’re close, within touching range. Not that he’d ever put his hands on you without your express and explicit permission, but the forced intimacy gets to him. You’re so comfortable in his car, shown by the way you commandeer the radio, the way you dig through his glovebox like it was yours for the taking. 

(Everything of his is yours for the taking, for the having, for the keeping.) 

“What’s this?” you ask, more to yourself than anything, but he looks over anyway. You’ve got a CD in your grip, reading the back. 

“That,” he says, “is my favorite CD. So be careful with it, please.”

“It’s your favorite?” 

He nods, and you give him that crooked smile, ejecting the CD that was in the player, exchanging it out. 

“We don’t have to listen to it,” he tries, and you wave him off. 

“Of course we do! It’s your favorite, and I want to hear it too!” 

 You pull pieces of him to the surface, almost by accident, and he stands there in front of you, exposed. But you’re always careful with the new parts of him that are revealed, treating them as preciously and as kindly as you’d treat an invaluable glass sculpture.

The first track starts and he keeps his gaze on the road, humming along. He can feel your eyes on him, and eventually, eventually gives into the urge to look over, meeting your eyes. 

“I can see why you like it,” you murmur, quiet for once. “It’s very…” you hold the words in your mouth, tasting them, savoring them. “It’s very you.” 

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re quite welcome.” 

It’s quiet in the car, aside from the CD, of course, but he doesn’t mind the silence. Never has. Others feel it as a pressure, but he doesn’t, and knows, despite your propensity to talk and laugh and be in constant motion, don’t either. It’s a comfort, to be in silence with you. 

The drive to the House of Lamentation takes forever. Isn’t nearly long enough.

When he pulls into the circle drive, past the immaculately pruned bushes and other ostentatious landscaping, he resists the urge to go slower, to coast at a snail’s pace. He’s better than that. Barely. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as he pulls to a stop, lowering the volume of the music. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” he says. “You know me. Barbatos: butler, glorified babysitter, and part-time chauffeur.” 

He’s rewarded again with your laugh, but it fades into something thoughtful, something intimate.

“You’re so much more than that,” you say, and when he looks over at you in muted surprise, you’re not returning his gaze, instead focused somewhere in the far-off distance, maybe in the far-off past. Either way, you blink and come out of it quickly, but don’t take your words back. Instead, you do something, that even with all of his overthinking, his planning, his habit of examining every possibility, he’d never seen coming: 

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

Your lips are warm, and dry, and un-lingering. He stares at you in shock as you pull away, heart pounding a mile a minute. 

“Well,” you say with another laugh, much more high-pitched and nervous than the others he’d heard from you, “thanks again. I’ll be going in now.” 

You slide out of his car quickly, crossing the distance between it and the door in seconds. He almost thinks you’re not going to look back, until you do, that damned crooked smile on your lips, fluttering your fingers in a wave, even as embarrassment and joy war in your eyes. 

It takes a long time, too long, for him to pull himself together enough to pull away from the House of Lamentation, and he has to take the most convoluted way home he can think of to fully rid himself of his blush– a herculean task, considering that kiss plays on repeat in his head, the memory of your smile almost tangible. Who would have thought a simple kiss on the cheek would have been enough to bring the always-composed, always-distant Barbatos back down to the realm of unstoppable, human emotion?

Maybe you returning his feelings isn’t as far-fetched a possibility as he’d thought. 

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

suna rintaro •

“c’mon, baby. don’t be like that.”

you huffed back at your boyfriend, your arms crossed over your chest as you childishly pouted. you walked ahead of him, continuing your journey to the passenger seat of his luxury car.

“hey, sweetheart, stop.” he chuckled as you continued to ignore him.

the silent treatment that you played didn’t let up as you neared his car in the store’s packed parking lot, much to his dismay. he stayed behind you, his large hands filled with your family’s christmas gifts you both had just purchased last minute.

it started out small, this argument did.

suna, ever the lazy man he is, pushed aside gift buying for weeks as your schedule filled once finals season approached, resulting in your shopping to begin the night before christmas. to say that you were irritated would be an understatement when you found that there were no gifts to wrap.

you wanted to kill rintaro, and even contemplated makibg sleep on the couch for a week— but it was christmas eve and even though he was annoying, you still wanted nothing more than to be near him during this holiday season.

angry or not.

as you approached your passenger door, you turned around briefly to take one look at him.

his hair was collecting snowflakes, the jet black locks speckled with white fuzz beautifully. his strong arms were carrying two heavy bags and one large electronic box for your younger sibling, and although he looked as if the items were nothing compared to him, you could tell that he was struggling slightly to carry them all in this cold, and his long fingers were most likely numb from the cold.

“wait, just a second. you know that you’re not allowed to open your own door; that’s my job.” suna corrected as your glove clad hand reached the car door handle.

you rolled your eyes, but felt your heart warm a few temperatures at his manners.

“let me just set these in the trunk and i’ll get you in that nice and toasty car, ‘kay? don’t want my princess getting too cold.” he explained as he popen the trunk, and carefully set the gifts in there.

you waited patiently, frustrated at him, but nevertheless ignored him still.

he tucked his frozen hands in his pockets breifly as he walked around the your side of the car, sending a flirty wink your way as he watched your eyes follow his moves briefly before looking off in the distance.

“i saw that, pretty girl.” he chuckled under his breath as he reached you.

the close proximity of him suddenly, caused a warm feeling to envelop your cold body. his scent filled your lungs as you breathed in the harsh air, your eyes nearly rolling back at the smell.

he was intoxicating.

his bare hand covered yours to gain your attention, wanting nothing more than to see your eyes on him once more— those pretty eyes that he adored.

when you didn’t budge, he let out an airy laugh at your behavior,

“sweetie, c’mon. look at me…” his voice was nearly teasing, catlike in every way as he spoke.

“what?” you harshly huffed out.

“ah, there she is. there’s your pretty voice that i missed so much.” he gently cooed at you. you found it condescending.

“what do you want, rintaro? i’m cold.” you were icy cold when you asked him, your voice cruel.

he ignored your attitude, tucking a loose strand behind your ear before caging you against the car door.

“rintaro! what is wrong with you? i’m freezing and i have to go home and wrap presents because you,” you shoved your finger against his coat covered chest. “didn’t tell me that we didn’t have any until last minute! now, i’m going to be exhausted all fucking day tomorrow because i’ll go to bed late”.

he smirked as you shouted quietly at him, careful not to make a scene.

he didn’t want to invalidate you in anyway, because he knew very well that he fucked up this year, but something about how adorable you looked in your puffy coat he bought you had his heart bursting. you looked so damn cute, exclaiming about your worries while you dressed warmly. your cheeks were flushed from the harsh cold, your nose beginning to run as well.

you had his whole heart and you didn’t even realize it.

you noticed the smug look on his face, immediately resulting in a punch to his shoulder.

he hissed in pain lowly, his broad body flinching back slightly before the hand covering yours nursed the now sore muscle.

“ouch, baby. that was awfully mean of you, don’t you think?”

you huffed in annoyance before turning around and opening the door yourself. but, just as you opened it, your boyfriend was quick to shut it with his knee.

“hey! what is your-“

he face leaned closer to yours, his cold nose touching your own freezing one. his dark eyes bored into yours and his lips brushed against yours gently.

“you know only i open this door for you, no one else. not even you.” he whispered darkly, his voice raspy.

you nodded slowly, allowing him to reach next to you and open the door back open for you, his eyes never leaving yours. he backed up enough for the door to fully open.

“go in.”

you obeyed reluctantly. you slid into the luxurious car, the soft heated cushions welcoming you happily with comforting warmth. you let out a satisfied sigh at the feeling, before turning your attention back to your doting boyfriend. he leaned in towards you slowly, your breath hitched as his torso entered the warm car. his face became nothing but a few inches away from yours, giving you the impression that he was going to give you a forgiving kiss. but instead, he reached a few inches behind him, and pulled the seatbelt around your lap before buckling it.

“gotta keep my little princess safe, don’t i? these roads are icy, brat.”

you nodded along, at loss for words.

“suna?” you called out after a few moments of thought as he was exiting the vehicle.

he stopped momentarily, crouching over slightly to hear and look at you as you spoke.

“kiss me.” you whispered.

he smiled wide, and if his cheeks weren’t frostkissed you could’ve seen the blush that creeped upon him at your words.

“of course.”