#-at suki and reaching for her and is close enough to grasp her hand...

[uuhhhhwhat]

something something this looks like a renaissance painting

[honorforged]

Azula was out there, slipping through their grasp again and again, and every time she vanished, it felt like another personal failure. Every time she hurt someone he cared about, it was like Azula was reminding him how powerless he still was to stop her. His gaze dropped to Suki’s leg, to the burn marring her skin —his sister’s handiwork. The sight of it made his stomach twist. Carefully, he reached out, letting his fingers ghost over the burn, barely touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating from the injury. It was a gentle, hesitant motion, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. When Suki flinched, he nearly did too. But she didn’t pull back. Instead, she softened, and Zuko’s heart gave a painful lurch. He swallowed thickly, his thumb brushing over her skin in a barely-there caress before he let his hand fall away.

“I should’ve stopped her,” he said, his voice rough, eyes lingering on her leg even after he pulled his hand back. “I should’ve been there.” He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. Not when the thought of Azula hurting Suki — or worse — made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with how much Suki had come to mean to him. “You shouldn’t have to go through this because of me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not you.” Before Suki could respond, he turned abruptly toward the door, calling for a nearby attendant. “Send for a Waterbender, a healer,” he ordered, his tone firm. “Now.”

Without another word, he bent down, sliding one arm beneath Suki’s knees and the other around her back. His grip was gentle but steady as he lifted her, her weight pressing against his chest. Zuko’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he carried her to the nearby couch. “Let me,” he murmured, lowering her with the utmost care onto the soft cushions. His hands lingered on her shoulders for a brief moment, eyes dark with a mix of regret and something deeper, unspoken. “You’ll be more comfortable here.” His thumb brushed over her arm before he straightened, taking a step back. “The healer will be here soon,” he said, forcing himself to pull away, even though every instinct screamed at him to stay close. “Just… rest.”

@honorforged inquired: [ WOUND ]:   Upon noticing a recent injury on the receiver’s person, the sender carefully moves closer, running a thumb (or hand) across the wound in a gentle, troubled manner. —from @honorforged

⁕| Prompts That Make Me Go 👀 |⁕

Azula seemed to be set on sabotaging Zuko's rule as Fire Lord with every chance she had, and after every ruckus, she disappeared without a trace. She was terribly elusive... Even for Suki, the Kyoshi Warriors' best. And she knew how stressed this matter of Azula was making Zuko... She wanted to find his sister and secure her, at least give Zuko some peace of mind. But no matter what Suki did, it was never enough.

" I'm fine, it's just a- " But the warrior's words were cut off as she felt the brush of a finger over the burn mark on her leg. She...wasn't expecting such a gentle touch. For a moment, she worried that Zuko felt responsible for the burn. And maybe that was part of it, but Suki felt there was something more as well. Something she couldn't decipher... She flinched as his fingers gently brushed over the burnt flesh, but she didn't recoil.

" I... I'm alright, " she stated again, this time a lot softer than before. She felt her cheeks warm, embarrassed to be caught off guard by this gentle touch. She didn't want him to worry...yet at the same time, knowing his concern for her felt nice. She turned her blue gaze back to the man before her. " Please don't blame yourself, Zuko... You're doing everything you can to stop her. This... This isn't your fault. "

[the-badger-mole]

💭

Excerpt from Face in the Crowd, Chapter 10

She reached up and clawed at the hands around her throat. She could feel his flesh give way beneath her nails, but Yon Rha didn’t even loosen his grip. She tried punching him next, and connected with his chin. This time, he did let go, but only long enough to hit her back. Katara’s head bounced against the floor painfully. She had just enough time to hastily swallow a lung full of air before Yon Rha’s hands closed around her throat again.

“Don’t panic!” Katara heard Sokka’s voice in her head with startling clarity. She almost flinched, but she was losing the strength to do even that much. He was right, she thought giddily. She didn’t have long to act- maybe thirty seconds before she lost consciousness. Another minute before she died. She calmed herself as best she could and thought back to an afternoon the year before where Sokka and his girlfriend Suki had gotten it into their heads to teach Katara some self-defensive moves. She hadn’t practiced since then, but it was her best hope now.

“Keep your elbows in tight,” Suki instructed her. Sokka grinned down at Katara, straddling her waist and hands loosely around her neck. He didn’t think she was strong enough to actually pull the move off.

“I’m not going to go easy on ya,” he taunted. Katara scowled at him, and did as Suki told her. She pulled her elbows in tight, grasped Sokka’s arm just above his elbow, and clamped her other hand over his wrist.

“Good form,” Suki said. “Now your left foot outside of his and your right foot in the middle of his legs, and use your weight to throw him off of you.”

“No way you- oof !” Katara scrambled to her feet with a triumphant smirk.

“And that’s how you do it every time!” Suki laughed.

Katara hadn’t counted on how weak lack of oxygen would make her. Her hands shook as she grasped Yon Rha’s arm, just above his elbow and grasped his wrist. She couldn’t even tell how tight her grip was. All she knew was that she had one shot. When her feet were in place, she stopped struggling for a moment while she gathered her strength. Yon Rha was caught off guard when she rolled her hips and threw him to the side. Katara scrambled to her knees and over towards Zuko, gasping for air. Yon Rha’s hand closed around her ankle as hers wrapped around the metal pipe. She rolled over and slammed the pipe over his head. He released her immediately and his hand flew to his head. Katara brought the pipe down again. And again. And again. When she finally stopped swinging, Yon Rha’s face was broken and bloodied, but he still seemed to be alive.

Want to know what my favorite scenes from my stories are? Drop a 💭 in my asks!

[jadequeen88]

Accidental Valentine

◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

This is my fic for The Citrus Dome Server Lover’s Day Literature Collab! Please go check out The Masterlist and support all of the amazing artists and writers that have contributed.🖤

A/N: WHEW guys... I don’t think I’ve put this much work into a fic EVER. I’ve been feeling pretty bad about my body and wanted to write a reader who struggled with it as well. Who better to boost your confidence than DILF Kiri feeding your praise kink?! I was heavily influenced by this amazing drabble by @rat-suki​ and got permission to use it as my inspiration for this fic.🖤 (for reference, reader is 30 and Kirishima is 42)

Thanks to @afictionalwhore and my dear friend Orchid for the beta read!🖤

RetiredProHero!Kirishima x YoungerF!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

TW: size difference, oral (both receiving), daddy kink, praise kink (lots and lots of praise), TBH the sex is pretty vanilla but very passionate, both are insecure about their bodies.

When you trudged into work this morning, you didn’t ever dream of meeting your childhood idol/crush, but here you are, staring up at a beautiful mountain of a man. Eijiro Kirishima, or retired pro hero Red Riot, had never come into your coffee shop before and you’d never imagined he would. He was huge. Nearly 7 ft tall and built like a brick house. His hair was back to his natural black with flecks of silver at his temples and hung long and wild around his shoulders. He had on a pair of glasses and wore a dark maroon sweater and jeans.

Even though he’s aged, he looks just as handsome as the young man you fell for as a girl.

The year he made his debut, you were only six, and like most other six-year-olds, you idolized the pro heroes. Most of your friends loved Deku or Dynamite, but you always loved Red Riot. His smile, warmth, and his fiercely protective nature made your tiny heart burst with admiration. Throughout his hero career, you kept up with all of his interviews, the battles he’d been in, the awards he’d won, and his hero rankings. You’d also gotten as much merch as possible over the years and still wore your worn-out, oversized Red Riot t-shirt to sleep in. When he retired a couple of years ago, you still scanned articles online trying to gather bits and pieces of information about the hero, but he wasn’t one to seek out the spotlight. You think that’s probably why he’d always been your favorite. He was a true hero. Serving the citizens and keeping them safe was his top priority. You didn’t want to admit it, but you kept up with him for one main reason… You wanted to know if he was seeing anyone.

You remember being eaten up with jealousy when you’d see his arm around another woman going to galas and award ceremonies. Your sixteen-year-old brain knew that of course, he’d date women. He was a grown man and a pro hero. But your heart would ache, wanting to be the one his soft eyes and pointy-toothed grin was fixed on.

Now those same eyes were fixed on you, his mouth moving and forming words, but you were too star-struck to hear what he was saying. When you snapped out of your daze and remembered you were supposed to be taking his order, you were mortified.

“I-I’m so sorry sir! Could you please repeat that?”

“Sure thing!” his bright smile was hypnotizing, “Just a venti-sized flat white. Have you had your coffee yet? Ya looked a little far away there for a second, kid.”

Your heart leaped at the little nickname. “Yeah, sorry about that! I guess I should get a couple of shots of espresso in me before I try to be productive.” You chuckle nervously as you scribble his order on the cup and turn to make his drink.

“Oh, uhh…” he peeks around the counter to get your attention, “Do you need my name? For the order?”

You freeze realizing you forgot basic, barista 101 etiquette…

“Actually,” you face him, a sheepish grin on your face, avoiding eye contact, “I know your name. You… umm, were my favorite hero,” you blush, and your eyes widen in embarrassment, “you know when I was a kid...”

You turn back to your work, kicking yourself for being so awkward. 

“Really? I think you’re the first person to recognize me since ya know,” he circled his head with his pointer finger, “I stopped dying my hair..”

You turned your head to peer up at him through your dark lashes, a light dusting of blush still on your cheeks, “Well, I like it. It looks good on you.”

The retired pro’s heart was bursting at how damned cute you were. Was this pretty, young girl… embarrassed? Over him?! He watched your tiny hands move as they worked on his drink order, wondering how small they’d feel grasped in his massive ones. Your soft hair caught in the sunlight making you look like a literal angel and he sighed. You reached up to grab a canister from the top shelf and a sliver of soft skin between your t-shirt and jeans peeked through. His gaze became far away and he damn near drooled at the sight. Just how long had it been since he’d touched another woman? Kirishima wasn’t one for casual flings. He always got too invested in whoever he was seeing. So when he and his long-time girlfriend broke things off a couple of years ago, he wasn’t rushing back into the dating scene.

However, things were a little more… complicated than just not finding the right girl to commit to. He was getting older and it was starting to show. Over the past few years, he’d lost his confidence. He’s bulkier around the middle no matter what workouts or diets he tries. Overuse of his quirk has caused stretchmarks and scars all over his skin. He was starting to get crow’s feet and he was overall just TOO big and TOO hairy. He felt like some sort of gorilla walking around in human clothing. Kirishima isn’t stupid or trying to fool himself. A young, gorgeous thing like you wasn’t looking for anything from an old, washed-up man like him. But, fuck… It was nearly impossible for him to move his gaze away from your ass… Oh, the things he’d do to you if he were a few years younger...

You turned to look over your shoulder and notice his gaze… and it’s apparent that he’s checking you out. He looks like a man starved, eyes glued to your ass.

“Well, well, well… maybe he wasn’t so annoyed with my fangirling after all.”

When he realized you’d gone still, his eyes met yours and he quickly averted his gaze. His cheeks turned as red as his hair used to be. You busied yourself with the milk steamer to hide your big, goofy grin. With a new burst of confidence, you decide to take a chance and when you go to write his name on his to-go cup, you write

 “Big Red <3” 

You pause, bite your lip, and think to yourself, “why the hell not?” as you scribble your number underneath the nickname. You turn to give him his drink and your nerves almost make you retreat and make a whole new drink. Then he meets your gaze and your world stops spinning. His vermillion eyes crinkle at the edges as his scared lips turn upwards into a syrupy sweet smile.

When Kirishima takes his drink from you, your fingers brush his for the briefest second and he can tell they’re trembling. “Oh no, I hope I haven’t made her nervous or uncomfortable.” He wanted to go crawl in a hole… That was until he saw what you’d written on his cup.

He stammers, looking from the cup to your face like he’s checking to see if you’re pulling a prank on him or not. Before he can say anything, you bite your lip and look up at him. 

“I’m off work this Sunday. Just… if you’d like to hang out or something.” your gaze shifts and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

After a moment or two, his face lights up in a huge grin. “Y-yeah, great!” he turns and walks a few steps, then turns around and motions at the cup, “So… I should just, ahh… text you?”

You giggle and it’s the sweetest sound he’s heard in a long time, “That would be nice, yeah.”

“Okay, great!... Talk later then!” He waves and leaves the coffee shop, feeling light as a feather and ten years younger.

*****

Sunday rolls around and you spend the morning making sure the place is cleaner than it’s been in weeks. Your place was small but cozy. For a fleeting moment, you’re a little insecure about how modest your apartment is. You don’t know exactly how wealthy pros are when they retire, but you know he’s more familiar with much nicer places than yours. You decide he probably knew just what to expect on a barista’s salary and tried to put it out of your mind. You checked on the cookies baking in the oven. When you found out through your text conversations that he loved chocolate chip cookies with the large chunks of dark chocolate baked in, you went out and bought everything to make them the same day. You kept watching over them like a hawk to avoid burning them. They still looked pretty gooey, so you decided it would be safe to get changed into something a little nicer. Just as you were about to turn the corner into your bedroom, your doorbell rang.

“Shit!” you looked at your phone and sure enough, you let time get away from you. He was here and you were still in your cropped leggings and t-shirt, sporting a messy bun and dirty apron. You groaned as you realized you couldn’t leave him on your doorstep while you changed. Defeated, you hurried to the door.

You opened the door, hoping that you at least didn’t have flour in your hair, and looked up into the much larger man’s eyes. The realization that THE Red Riot was standing this close to you made your stomach flutter and a goofy grin slide across your face. While you stood there star-struck, he broke the silence.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here!”

“Oh!” you jumped a little then promptly ran over to your oven, “Sorry! Please come on in!” you said over your shoulder as you were pulling your oven mitts on. 

Kirishima walked into your cozy apartment and instantly felt at ease. He couldn’t pinpoint just what it was, but something about your place felt more like home than any place he’d ever lived before. As he finished scanning your apartment, his eyes landed on you taking the cookies out of the oven. The comfortable, domestic feel of the place coupled with your ass on full display as you bent down to remove the cookies from the oven had his jeans tightening. You stood up and he averted his gaze before you turned around, not wanting to get caught checking your ass out for a second time.

“Fair warning, I’m not a talented baker by any means,” you removed your oven mitts after placing the cookie sheets on the cooling rack and flashed a sly grin his way, “But when Red Riot tells you what his favorite cookies are… Ya kinda gotta make them, right?”

Oh… If you only knew how pent up this man was… he debated bending you over right then and there and fucking you until you couldn’t walk. He really hit the jackpot with you… a hot, younger woman with the perfect ass who bakes him cookies and for some reason thinks he hung the moon? Kirishima would have given you a ring right then and there if he didn’t think it would scare you off.

“Well,” he radiated warmth as he looked between you and the cookies cooling on the rack, “If you’re not the sweetest thing! I, ahh… might have gotten you a little something too.” he then held up a 6 pack of your favorite cider. “Because when Y/N, L/N tells you what her favorite cider is… Ya kinda gotta get her some.” he winked and you felt your knees buckle and your cheeks burn. You felt like you were in a fairytale.

Then you remembered that the princesses in fairytales definitely did not wear flour-riddled black leggings, old t-shirts, and dirty aprons.

“OH! Umm, I need to go get cleaned up. I’ll only be a minu-” his massive hand wrapped around your wrist as you walked past him. It covered half of your forearm and a shudder ran through you. You wanted those giant hands to roam every inch of your body.

“Please don’t,” his eyes were half-lidded and his voice was low, “...I think you look beautiful like this.” his calloused thumb traced little circles on your skin not meeting your gaze. His deep voice was impossibly tender.

Now that you’d felt his skin on yours, you couldn’t contain your churning desires any longer. You wanted, needed, more. Rising up on your tiptoes, you curled your fist into Kirishima’s shirt collar and pulled his face toward yours.

You felt him tense up for a moment, then relax into the kiss. His massive hands found purchase on your hips, digging into the pliant flesh there. A needy whimper caught in his throat spurring you on to deepen the kiss. 

It was like your bodies were working around each other in perfect harmony… lips parting at a slow pace, like honey dripping from the edge of a spoon and tongues meeting in the middle to taste each other. You both savored the kiss for as long as you could, eyes lazily drifting open and shared breaths causing your hearts to dance out of your chests. 

You saw him falter, his gaze dropping, and you feared that you overstepped. 

“Kirishima I-“

“Ejiro,” he stopped you with a hand against your cheek, “Call me Eijiro…” his thumb caressed your bottom lip slowly, back and forth. His touch held so much devotion in it.

“Eijiro…” you sighed, looking up at him with pleading eyes, “I need you…”

The giant of a man before you swept you up into his arms and began walking down your hallway. You quickly wrapped your arms and legs around his hulking frame as if you were climbing a tree. 

“Second door on the right,” you were panting into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over it. 

You blew a cool stream of air along his damp skin and felt him shudder. A giggle bubbled up from your chest at being able to weaken a retired pro-hero known for being a human shield against the worst villains Japan has ever known. Your little stunt resulted in a grunt and a firm, warning squeeze to your thigh.

“So that’s what we’re doing today, huh?” he tosses you on the bed just hard enough to make you bounce up a little… then he’s on you, placing light kisses all along your neck as he prods your sides looking for a ticklish spot. You can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard and the fact that it was your idol drawing it from you made you dizzy with joy.

“Mercy! Mercy!” you were breathless and your abdomen ached from the forceful laughs Ejiro was pulling from you. He blew a raspberry on your neck as a final tease then relented, sitting up to meet your gaze.

You were absolutely smitten. You caressed the lines around his eyes and the scar that split his lips as your eyes roamed across his features. Every crease, every scar… you wanted to kiss them all. When his gaze faltered and he pulled away to sit beside you on the bed, the feeling you’d done something wrong resurfaced. You sat up beside him and placed your hand on his thigh.

“Eijiro…” your voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry, I know I can come on a little strong sometimes, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just…” your eyes meet and his gaze is unreadable.

“No, no…” his ruby eyes drop to the floor, “It’s just that,” he chuckles nervously, “Well, it’s been a while. I’m not very good with casual flings and the like. So I don’t really date much…”

You rise to your feet and move to stand in front of him. Sitting in front of you on your bed, you’re only slightly below eye level with him. You place your tiny hands on his thick thighs and nudge them apart so you can slot your hips between them.

“When I told you that you were my favorite hero,” you reach for his wrist and remove the hair tie from it, “What that actually meant was that I’d watch the news every day just to make sure you were safe.” 

Slender fingers move through his wild mane of silver-flecked hair untangling any knots, “It meant that when that villain with the sludge quirk put you in the hospital for a couple of days, my mom let me stay home from school because I was so distraught,” you pulled all of his untangled hair to the nape of his neck and began wrapping the hair tie around it.

“It meant that my silly sixteen-year-old heart would ache when I saw you hand in hand with a girl in a magazine going out on a date,” you grinned at how silly you felt admitting that. Once his hair was secured in a low ponytail, your hands trailed along his broad shoulders.

“Now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself, I’ll get to the point.” your intense gaze held years of longing for the hero in front of you, “Nothing about this is casual for me.”

Tears pricked the corners of Kirishima’s eyes. Had anyone ever showed him this much tender devotion? All the years he’d taken beating after beating, a glorified human shield, content with leaving most of the game to his friends. He was all rough edges and bulk. He was the one doing the protecting every time. Even in his romantic relationships, he was the one who would give, and give, and give… never asking or expecting to be taken care of. Being handled with such care was utterly foreign to him and it stirred up a deep need he never knew was there.

“Eji…” his glassy eyes met yours, “Can I take care of you?” you sank to your knees, hands sliding up his thighs.

“Please…”

Your hands made quick work of his button and zipper. He shifted his hips upwards to help you ease his jeans down his thick thighs and you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one slow pull. Nothing would have prepared you for just how huge he was. Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second, wondering how you’d get that thing to fit inside your cunt, much less your mouth… but it was something you were eager to find out.

Looking up at him from under your dark lashes, you made a show of lewdly licking your lips. You flattened your tongue and drug the wet muscle from his base right above his neatly trimmed patch of black hair, all the way to the swollen, red tip of his head. You felt the powerful muscles in his thighs clench as his head rolled back and a delicious moan escaped his open mouth. Making your hero come undone with one lick to his cock was intoxicating. 

“Fuck, baby…” Kirishima fisted the sheets praying he wouldn’t come just from your teasing. He’s not sure his pride could handle it. It became a very real threat when he dared to look down at you kissing and licking all up and down his length. Once your mouth had gotten him wet enough, your soft hands joined your warm mouth in worshiping his cock. You met his gaze as you kissed his tip and licked up the pre that was escaping in pearlescent beads. When you had teased him to your contentment, you swallowed him down as deep as your throat would allow, wrapped your hand around his base, and moaned.

Kirishima had many blowjobs in his life. In fact, he’d had some that he would say were pretty amazing… but in all his adult life, he’d never been so thoroughly and enthusiastically devoured like this. He threaded his fingers of one hand in your loose bun and fisted your bed sheets in his other to ground himself. After a minute or two, he felt his release creeping up much faster than he wanted.

He placed his hands on either side of your face causing you to stop bobbing your head and look up at him. He ran his thumb against your swollen bottom lip and you leaned into his tender touch. He bends forward and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Lay down on the bed,” he whispers into your hair. Nerves starting to catch up to you, you shook slightly as you stood from your spot on the floor. Before you lay down, you remember to take your apron off then lay on your pillows, heart pounding awaiting further instruction.

Kirishima hovers over you reminding you yet again just how tiny you are compared to him. His warm hand covers your knee and slowly travels up your thigh, stopping right before he meets your throbbing core. He runs his hand back down your thigh to gently nudge your knees apart. Leaning on his forearms, he positions himself between your thighs and you gasp at the friction created where your bodies meet. While planting tender kisses on your neck, he whispers, “I need you to promise that you’ll tell me if I need to stop or if something doesn’t feel okay. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes…” you moan as he nibbles on your earlobe, teasing with his sharp teeth but not breaking your skin.

“Mmm,” he places sweet kisses all along your jaw, your breath catching in your throat, “Good girl.”

Receiving praise from him made your chest swell. You wanted nothing more than to please this man you were rapidly falling for. He sat up, legs folded under his body, and slowly slid his hands under the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You felt his hands still on your stomach and looked up from where you were laying on your pillows to see what had made him freeze.

He met your gaze with a devilish grin, “Baby girl…” his thumbs run small circles on your skin, “Did you wear this for me?” 

When you realize what he’s talking about, you hide your face and groan into your hands. You completely forgot that you were still in your old Red Riot t-shirt that you usually slept in. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!” you mumbled behind your palms.

Kirishima chuckled and shushed you, “No, no, no… This is the sexiest thing you could have possibly worn.” He pulls the hem of your t-shirt up to expose your tummy, burying his face in the soft skin there. Gentle kisses were placed all along the waistline of your leggings, every squishy part and every little stretchmark that decorated your skin like tiny spiderwebs were lovingly caressed with his plush lips. Having the part of your body you were the most self-conscious of worshiped like this felt more vulnerable than sex.

As the kisses traveled higher, they became sloppier and more desperate. You lifted your arms to allow him to remove your shirt, exposing your plain white cotton bra. The feel of his stubble against your skin as he moaned into your cleavage sent shivers down your body. Instead of paying attention to your neglected nipples, his warm mouth carved a path up the column of your throat, head thrown back to give him as much access as possible.

Kirishima whispered against the tender skin under your earlobe, “This okay, baby?” two large fingers dip into the front of your leggings. You nod enthusiastically, unable to form a coherent answer, “Mmm… I need words, sweet thing. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes… it’s more than okay,” your chests are touching as he works his hand down the front of your pants.

When Kirishima’s thick fingers slid between your drenched folds, you arched your back and grasped his forearm. Slowly, he spread your slick around, dancing past your clit with each stroke. His teasing was turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him. 

He had all the time in the world and having you melt underneath his touch was the best way he could hope to spend it. After what felt like an eternity of him gently brushing against you, only slightly dipping into your needy hole and barely grazing your clit, you were openly panting and whining. A steady stream of praises flowed from his lips.

“You’re such a pretty girl… such a pretty little pussy.”

“Look at how wet you are for me. Like this, huh? My pretty girl likes my fingers teasing her?”

“I can’t wait to lick my fingers clean. You’re gonna taste so sweet.”

You were so worked up that tears began to form in your eyes, “Eji… I-“

“Hmm? What is it, baby girl? Need something?” His finger drags around your clit slowly, adding a fraction more pressure. 

“Please, I need more Eji,” your nails digging into his forearm were leaving little crescents in his thick skin.

“Sweet girl,” he meets your mouth with a slow, wet kiss, “you can have whatever you want.”

Without hesitation, he sits up and pulls your leggings down with your panties. A groan rattles his large chest when he sees a thread of your slick attached to the crotch. Once his face is buried in between your thighs, it’s a real possibility he might come just from eating you out. 

All the teasing had brought him to the edge as well and he was out of patience. With a few hurried kisses to each thigh, he dove into your dripping cleft. His tongue plunged into your core as he nudged his nose into your puffy clit. 

You cry out and convulse around his face. His arms wrap around your thighs, firmly but gently holding your legs open to give him full access to eat you as thoroughly as possible. When he moves to suck your clit, you know you won’t last much longer. As he nurses on your sensitive nub, you feel the familiar tightening in your lower body. He picks up on this and moans into your skin as he greedily sucks. 

“Ahh… Ahh, I’m- I’m gonna….”

“Oh that’s it,” he encourages you by praising you and massaging your thighs in his massive hands, “let me have it, baby girl. Come on, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Your toes curl and back arches as you’re thrown over the edge. “Oh FUCK!! Coming, coming…. ooooh god… ahh D-daddy!…”

“Daddy, is it? Goddamn”

Kirishima felt his dick twitch and his breath caught in his throat.

He wipes his face on the back of his hands and makes a show of licking his fingers clean as he leans over you, nose touching yours.

“What was that baby?” His voice was strained as he pressed his dick into the warm, damp skin of your thigh…

You bat your lashes and ghost your lips over his as you whisper, “Daddy… please let me ride you. I need you inside me.” The nail in Kirishima’s coffin was when you licked his bottom lip then quickly followed with a chaste kiss.

You waste no time wrapping your thighs around his waist and twisting. He follows your lead and lays flat on his back letting you straddle him. You grab the hem of his shirt and similarly tease him, leaving a trail of kisses along his broad stomach. Kirishima flinches a little, self-conscious of his skin and how soft his middle had gotten over the years. You meet his eyes as you pull his shirt over his broad shoulders and run your hands back down his body. 

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” hands and eyes roamed over the expanse of skin in front of you, “It’s even better than in my dreams.”

He wondered for the hundredth time how got this lucky. You really loved his body? Maybe… maybe he wasn’t in as bad of shape as he thought…

“No,” his hands rubbed your hips, kneading your soft skin, “You’re better than I’d ever hoped to find.” He sits upon the headboard and pulls you closer into his lap, “Now,” he pulls your hair free of the messy bun, “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”

You lift your hips and place his tip at your entrance. That alone caused a delicious stretch and you knew it would be a slow process getting him to fit comfortably.

“Yes, Daddy,” your hands wrapped around his neck and he growled as he pulled you into a rough kiss.

“Good fuckin girl.” 

He helped lower you onto his cock with lots of kisses, praises, and gentle squeezes. When you got closer to his base, the pain was too much for a moment. Kirishima used his thumb to rub circles into your clit, shushing you sweetly against your parted mouth. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead with his free hand while his other is still working your clit over.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, “You fill me up so well. I love your massive cock filling me up.”

“You’re gonna make me crazy, you know that? Huh?” He pulls your lower lip into his mouth and sucks. You both sit for a while, exchanging kisses and whispers while you adjust to his girth.

“Are you ready to move now, sweet girl?” 

“Yes, Daddy…” he helps you move, dragging your hips up and down his shaft.

After a few deep thrusts, you both increase your pace, matching each other’s movements. It’s not long before your head is thrown back, tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Loud moans and curses escape your mouth as one nipple is pulled into Kirishima’s mouth.

“Oh, Daddy! Fuck, fuck! Right there, right there… I… I’m… AHH!” Before you can even say anything, you’ve come undone, spasming around his cock. 

“Oh, good girl, good fuckin girl,” you go limp and bury your face into his neck while he slams your hips onto his, chasing his release. The feeling of him using your body to get off makes you dizzy with joy. You lean into his ear whispering, “Please come inside me. Wanna feel you come inside me, Daddy… please, need your come inside me, Daddy.” 

Your slurred pleas against his ear send him over the edge into a mind-numbing orgasm. As he comes down from his high and looks into your face full of adoration, he knows he’s caught… hook, line, and sinker. 

*****

The rest of the evening is spent eating cookies on your couch, drinking cider, and watching your favorite crime drama. The sweet kisses and touches sprinkled throughout the night feel so natural… Like you’ve been together for years instead of hours. 

You end up with Kirishima’s head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair as he closes his eyes and relaxes into your touch. The clock on your wall reads 12:30 am and it dawns on you what day it officially is.

“Eji?”

“Hmm?” He opens one eye and reaches up to scratch your scalp. 

“Will you be my valentine?” You bite your bottom lip to stifle a silly grin.

He sits up and pulls you into a bear hug. 

“What kinda silly question is that? Of course. I don’t ever want another valentine besides you.”

Your heart explodes and you kiss him, grabbing his cheeks in both hands. 

“Sixteen-year-old me is absolutely losing her shit right now,” you giggle, rubbing his nose with yours.

“Well,” he grabs your ass and raises an eyebrow, “Forty-two-year-old me is losing his shit right now over finding such a sweet girl with such a sweet ass on her,” he nips at your neck and you squeal.

“Ooh, you ready for another round, old man?”

He growls and throws you over his shoulder. A swift spank to your ass causes you to burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Oh, so I’m dealing with a brat now? You want me to show you what this old man does to little brats?” He squeezes your thighs as he makes his way to the bedroom. 

“But I’m your good girl! Remember?!”

“Yeah, yeah… We’ll see about that.”

[inkykeiji]

little bit of poison in me

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut and angst

notes: okay FINALLY!! very loosely inspired by tag you’re it by melanie martinez!! uhh dabi’s a drug dealer, keigo’s in his third year of university and a track star, reader’s in her first year of university. please, please pay attention to the warnings below! if keigo’s your comfort character and you cannot handle him being physically abusive and a drug addict, then you might wanna sit this one out! promise he’ll be painted in a more sympathetic light in part two. | aaah dedicating this to @rat-suki​, because ur the only one who’s actually known the details of this fic since november, and because i put a lil something inspired by new moon in there for u ehehe <333 | title credit: tag you’re it by melanie martinez

warnings: 18+, noncon/dubcon, physical abuse, drug use & abuse + graphic depictions of addiction, mindbreak, overstimulation, manipulation, lowkey yandere vibes (which will get worse), daddy kink, a brother a lil too obsessed with his sister + questionably close sibling relationship, generally toxic relationships (possessiveness, jealousy), rough sex, semi-public sex, cumplay/cum feeding, minimal prep, degradation/dumbification, choking, kinda brat taming???

words: 14.8k

synopsis: 

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to. But you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, and allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

It’s well past midnight, but the moon is still hanging high in the sky, illuminating the dingy shopping mall parking lot, its reflection gleaming on the wet, cracked concrete. Breathless little laughs and squeals of surprise and pleasure ring out among the vast empty space, your own voice echoing around you.

“Gonna get ya, baby,”

He’s chasing after you, legs longer than yours, faster than yours, mischievous little growls getting caught in his chest as you daintily leap away from him, just out his grasp again, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft linin of your dress.

“No!” you giggle, pushing your burning thighs to keep running just a bit longer, propelling you forward.

But he’s getting closer and closer with each pound of his boots against the pavement, encroaching on you more and more with each tiny gasp exhaled through your parted lips.

Eventually, he catches you, like he always does, large hands wrapping around your hips as strong arms pull you backwards against a solid chest. You’re both panting, chests heaving with exertion, bubbles of laughter escaping your throats.

“Tag,” he breathes, hot breath curling around the shell of your ear. “You’re it,”

His arms encircle you, holding you tightly, your own arms covering his, little fingers digging into the skin of his forearms almost possessively as he uses his strength and bodyweight to guide you towards the car—a 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz that runs like shit and guzzles gas like no tomorrow. But it’s pretty, and he loves it, with all its chrome and argyle blue, glittering in the moonlight.

“You’re being bad, princess,” the words are mumbled against the skin behind your ear, and you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Good girls don’t run away from their Daddies like that,”

And he says the word with so much disdain, cruel and mocking, making you feel sick for liking it.

“Baaad girl,” he whispers, dragging the word out.

A tiny pout settles on your face, eyebrows knitting. “Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not,”

“You are,” he chuckles, pressing you against the damp metal of his car as you finally reach it, his body still draped over yours. “What? You gonna fight me on it?”

Squirming a little in his grasp, you turn to face him, a playful glint shining in your glassy eyes as you nudge your nose against his. “I just might!”

“Hah,” the breath of air washes over your face, scorching and sweet, a stark contrast to the humid, cool air surrounding you, causing your exposed flesh to break out into chills. “I’d like to see you try, dollface,”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” you murmur, yelping when his fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass through your dress, grabbing a healthy handful and squeezing in retaliation.

“Mmm,” he hums nonchalantly, pushing his forehead against yours, eyes nothing but gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of sapphire. “You gonna show me?” his rough voice fades into a whisper, unblinking eyes holding yours steadily. Calloused hands are sliding up your thighs now, slipping underneath the thin material of your dress and taking the hem with them.

“N-Not here,” you breathe, trying and failing to pull back from him, eyes widening in alarm as you feel his fingers hook in the waistband of your panties.

“Yes, here,” he responds, voice smooth as velvet as soft lips drag along your neck, sharp teeth sinking into your flesh like a hot knife slicing through butter.

Panic is beginning to rise in your chest, your throat closing up, and you choke a little on your words, shaking your head frantically. “Please, Dabi, no, we could just—”

“Wow, you really want me to bruise that pretty ass of yours,” he smirks, cutting you off and pulling back to gaze at you lazily, lips glimmering with saliva.

“No, I—”

“Especially with how much you’re saying no today,” he tuts his tongue in disapproval. “Such a bad girl; a silly, little, stupid, bad girl,”

Each word is punctuated with a sharp slap to your scantily clad ass, each bringing with them a sharp sting that you can hear, echoing out among the parking lot.

“Not bad,” you whimper, eyes shutting tightly against the familiar burn of tears. “Not bad, j-just wanna—”  

“Wanna what?” he teases, voice mocking yours as his palm collides with your ass again. “Huh?”

“W-Wanna—Want you to fuck me right,” you rush to say, the words exhaled as a singular huff of breath.

“Oh?” he pulls back slightly, eyes searching your face, his own features contorted with false concern. “Is that so?”

You nod quickly, eagerly, and he can see it in your eyes, how desperately you want him to buy your lie.

But you know he hasn’t the moment that trademark smirk returns to his face, mouth curling up at the edges as he leans forward, lips moving against your ear. “I think that’s a boldfaced lie, babygirl,” his voice is low, sinister, dangerous, traces of amusement sown into his tone. “I think it’s because you don’t want anyone to see how much of a little whore you truly are,”

“D-Dabi, please,” you whimper, vision blurry with tears as you paw at his jacket, pleading with him.

He thinks it’s so cute when you beg, his silence imploring you to continue, urgently rambling on in your quest to convince him.

“I-I want you to really fuck me; I want you to leave b-bruises all over my body, I want to feel you in my tummy, I want you t-to stuff me so full of cum that it goes to my brain and makes me stupid, please Daddy, I want—”  

Slim fingers wrap around your neck and squeeze, forcing a cry of surprise from your lips and effectively cutting you off. “I’m gonna make sure you remember those words, sweetheart,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

The thump of your own heart echoes in your ears as the Cadillac Eldorado thrums under your body, the leather sticking to the bare skin of your thighs.

“Open,” he demands, delivering a harsh slap to the thigh nearest to him, eyes never leaving the road as his foot presses down, car accelerating. Your thighs obey immediately, spreading as far as they possibly can in the cramped space, knees knocking against the door and center console box.

A rough hand, decorated with callouses and scabs, kneads the flesh once before sliding up, up, up, and then hooking in the elastic of your panties, Dabi spitting out a curse as he lets it snap back against your skin.

“Take those off,” he seethes, aggressively ripping his hand away from you as if he’s aggravated that you’re even wearing them at all. Your dress hitches up around your waist in your haste to obey, little fingers catching in the lacy material as your hips squirm, seatbelt cutting into your flesh, wiggling a little as you pull the dainty material down your legs.

He’s already holding his hand out expectantly and you press them into it, waiting for his fingers to close around the garment before taking your hand back. He feels them, rolling the fabric around in his palm, between his fingers, chuckling darkly as he chucks them over his shoulder a moment later, onto the dirty ground of the backseat.

Those were your favourite, but you know better than to say anything, forcing your expression to stay neutral, to keep your nose from wrinkling up in distaste.

“They’re wet, but not nearly wet enough,” he tsks as if he’s disappointed, hand finding your thigh again. This time, they part instantly, without any verbal prompting, hips pushing towards his palm as it skims the skin of your inner thigh.

“Now, I’m gonna play with this cute lil clit of yours,” he begins, fingers brushing the sensitive nub, words tumbling from his lips slowly, lazily, unhurried, as if you’re stupid, as if you need an ample amount of time for each word to sink in.

It makes your pussy throb, and the borderline malicious smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he felt it, too.

Speaking through his smirk, he continues in the same patronizing voice. “And you—you’re going to be Daddy’s good little girl and get nice and wet for him, so he doesn’t hurt his cock when he fucks you. Do you think you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

Yes Daddy, of course Daddy, anything for you, Daddy.

It’s torture in the most delightful way, coarse pads of his fingers just barely grazing your clit, just enough for you to feel it, just enough for you to want—no, need—more. Heat, thick and sticky, pools in the pit of your stomach, thighs straining to open impossibly wider, edges of the car’s interior digging into your knees as you desperately try to shift your hips, to press further into his touch, to evoke anything harder than these teasing, feathery touches.

Blunt nails sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, hard enough to make you yelp, entire body flinching from the sudden pain. “Big girls use their words,” he chastises, voice fading from a growl into a pleasant, light tone.

“Please, Daddy, I-I want more,” you whimper, hips still trying to catch your clit on his fingers, on his palm. “Touch me more,”

The hum that vibrates in his throat has your heart sinking, corners of your mouth tugging down as you blink against the sting of disappointment—you know that hum, know it all too well, know all of Dabi’s bizarre mannerisms at this point and what they mean for you. And that hum, the one that only lasts for a moment, the one that’s barely a noise at all, the one that doesn’t even sound like he’s considering anything, means no.

His eyes don’t leave the road in front of him, despite the fact that his car is going faster, and faster, and faster, whipping through the empty city streets, neon buildings and harsh florescent lights becoming nothing but a blur. And if it weren’t for the hard lump straining against the black denim of his jeans, you’d figure him disinterested; facial features relaxed, breathing normal, entirely unresponsive to the pathetic little noises he’s so effortlessly pulling from you.

It ignites a fire in your chest, blazing with the need to make him react, to make him pay attention to you.

Wearing your best pout, you arch your back a little, the action shoving your hips towards his hand again. “Daddy, Daddy,” you whine, low and needy in the back of your throat, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please, touch me more? Please, Daddy, I want it so bad, want your cock so bad, please, help me get wetter? Wanna be dripping for you, Daddy, I wanna be soaking for you,”

“Fuck,” he breathes, smirk growing into a full grin as he glances at you from the side of his eye. “Such a brat,” he shakes his head, through the grin is still present on his face as he finally presses two fingers against the swollen bud, rubbing slow, hard circles into it. “You better be drenched for me by the time we get home, you little bitch,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Large hands are on your body as the two of you stumble up the stairs, nimble fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, obscene sucking and slurping amplified by the stairwell, bouncing back to your own ears, saliva slicked lips slipping and sliding together messily as teeth clack together, practically tripping over each other’s feet and fucking Christ he needs you, he needs you now, his cock hurts, goddamn it.

And you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t absolutely love it when he gets like this, all clingy and needy and desperate, hushed little whines catching in the back of his throat, fading from deep, rumbling growls as rough hands paw at you.

A sharp gasp is knocked from your chest as he slams you against the wall on the landing of floor three with such force that your head ricochets off the concrete, your resounding cry silenced by Dabi’s lips, tongue invading your mouth as he swallows your beautiful little noises of pain.

You can feel his cock pressed up against your hip, hot and hard and throbbing through the denim that conceals it as he grinds against you, fervent, eager, impatient.

That panic is bubbling up in your throat again, bitter and acidic and eroding, rendering your voice weak and frail as scabbed knuckles drag across your bare thighs, inching higher and higher.

“Da-Daddy, wait,”

“No,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to break the skin. “I’m done waiting,” hands are rucking up your dress. “You made me wait that whole fucking car ride,” sharp hipbones keep your thighs spread. “I can’t wait any longer,” the clinking of his heavy belt buckle echoes throughout the stairwell, sending chills pebbling across your skin.

And then he’s forcing himself into you, shoving his cock into your tight little hole, a choked cry bouncing off the dirty white walls as your eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from the edges.

The stretch is magnificent, little cunt aching as it sucks in his thick cock, and you swear you can feel the burning in your belly, little pinpricks of pain shooting through your gut.

“G-Gonna tear me in half,” you wail, head falling forward, forehead bumping against his.

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” a callous laugh leaves his lips after he spits out the nickname, the singular word filled with such derision it must sting his tongue. Large hands hoist you up, and your legs immediately latch around his waist, seeking comfort in the monster that hurt you.

“Daddy, Daddy,” Tears drip down your cheeks as you bury your face in his shoulder, the word escaping your lips in tiny half-sobs catching in your throat, little fingers curling against the worn leather of his jacket.

And he can’t help but soften a little as you weep into his neck, thinks it’s so cute that you need him so bad, your little stuttered breaths hot against his neck as you cling to him, reminding him that he is the only man that can make you feel like this; he is the only man that can make you cry while simultaneously finding solace in his embrace. It makes his blood surge, sends cinders searing up his spine, gives him a high better than any other drug every could, and he finds himself hushing you gently, twitching cock buried in your cute lil cunt, snugly pressed against your cervix.

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying as his hips begin to pump, slow and languid. “Quiet, Daddy’s gonna make it feel good, alright? Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it go away,”

The sweetest, airiest little mewls of Daddy, yes, Daddy, soak into the inky skin of his neck, sandwiched between uneven hitched breaths. He’s gaining speed with each thrust, though, working up a steady rhythm that has you practically bouncing on his cock, little wails of pain fading into whimpers of pleasure. The combination is dizzying, infecting your mind with a haze that is only Dabi, surrounded by him, immersed in him—glowing sapphire and burning hickory and spicy nicotine—unable to quell the little noises spilling from your throat, each one louder than the next with each bump against your cervix and drag against that spot.  

“That feel better, princess?” he breathes out, pausing just to readjust his grip on your ass—to angle your hips just right, chuckling at your selfish, needy whine—and then he’s drilling his cock into you, head pounding against the spot that has his name escaping your lips in high pitched squeals that break in your throat, heavy belt buckle clanking against the wall with each of his thrusts.

It sends sparks of mind-numbing pleasure burning through your abdomen, your chest, straight to your very core and collecting there, each spark adding to the growing fire that’s beginning to blaze, followed by intense spears of pain, slicing through your gut and down the muscles of your thighs, legs beginning to quiver as ankles hook tighter, tighter, tighter, the heels of your sneakers digging into his back dimples, trying to get him closer, closer, closer, desperately begging for more, more, more.

Yet it’s all so much, too much, please, Daddy—the harsh sound of metal colliding with concrete mingling with your pathetic whines and his panted breaths, rough whimpers catching deep in his chest, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he gasps, pace never slowing, never faltering once, even though there’s glistening dewdrops of sweat decorating his hairline, inky strands beginning to stick to the skin of his forehead. “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy, cum before someone catches you being such a sweet little—God, Christ—a sweet little slut for me,”

And your cunt submits, would never dare to disobey a direct command from its master, from its owner, clenching around him as you cream all over his cock, a sharp cry ripping up your throat as your nails scrabble against leather clad shoulders.

A growl rumbles, deep and dark and dangerous in his chest, as his hips piston a few more times before they still, tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, branding his name in tiny blotches of navy and violet as his cock throbs, coating your insides with spurts of thick cum.

Head falling forward, his forehead collides with yours, chests heaving and breathing laboured. And he can’t help the little chuckle he huffs out as you wiggle your hips a little, eyes still closed as you rock in little motions against him, clit catching on his pubic bone.

Needy little bitch.

But he isn’t nearly done with you yet, because that desire, thick and sticky in the very pit of his stomach, only wants more, insatiable and voracious, desperate for more of your whines, more of your tears, more of your cunt.

You’re gonna make good on all those words you spewed in the parking lot, baby, he’s nearly snarling at you, cutting off your whiny complaints as he drags you up the final flight of stairs, stopping halfway to haul you over his shoulder with a huff and a deft slap to your ass, carrying you the rest of the way to his apartment.

“Dress, off. Now.” He orders as he throws you onto his mattress, pulling his shirt over his head, belt buckle jingling as he walks, still hanging undone.

And then he’s crawling over your naked body, lips attacking yours, smashing and smacking and slurping, a large hand wrapping around your wrists as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, laving over yours in slow, deliberate drags, pinning your wrists against the cold cracked drywall behind his nearly bare, minimalistic bed, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together between a singular rough palm—a silent warning—and forcing a yelp from your throat into his.

“Don’t move them,” his lips mumble the command against yours before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, between sharp gleaming teeth that bite down hard, sinking into the soft flesh and refusing to release until he tastes copper, the tip of his tongue tracing the harsh indents left behind, licking at your lip once more before pulling away completely.

“I want you to leave bruises all over my body!” he mimics, voice absurdly high as lips skim the curve of your neck, tongue darting out to trace along your collarbones. “Isn’t that what you said, baby?”

But you can’t answer, too busy sucking on your now swollen lip, trying to soothe the incessant throbbing as metal stains your tongue. That’s disrespectful, you think you hear him growl into your unmarred skin before something sharp pierces your nipple, clamping down around it and tugging. A resounding cry tears through your throat as your body instinctually bows off the bed, pressing further into him, a muffled snicker vibrating against your chest before his tongue flicks, licks, slobbers, thick strings of saliva glimmering in the dim light as he pulls away, breaking and slapping against his chin.

“Answer me next time I ask you a fucking question,” The words are spit so harshly they slice into your skin, head nodding fervently before he’s even finished speaking, blinking the bleariness from your eyes. Smoldering sapphire holds your gaze for a moment, burning into your very soul—digging, prying, searching, scrutinizing, his breathing slow, calm, controlled with each deep rise and fall of his bare chest.

You aren’t sure what it is he’s looking for as he peers into the depths of your eyes, but you don’t dare let your gaze stray from his, don’t dare blink, don’t dare breathe until he breaks the spell, blinking once as his lips curl up into a wicked smirk.

“I’m gonna turn your body into a work of art,” he promises you, voice low and guttural, forcing thorns of ice up your spine as lips drag across your jaw.

And he does, paints little galaxies across your skin with his tongue and his lips, asymmetrical blotches of blues and greys and purples, ivory bones scraping against your flesh, signing his name into his masterpiece in deep, dark indents of crimson and violet.

It aches and it pulses and it stings, glittery trails of salt water staining your cheeks, tiny shimmering droplets clinging to your clumped, spiky lashes, adding the finishing touches on the greatest piece he’s ever created.

And it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty when you’re like this, baby, covered in navy and plum and carmine, and, fuck, it’s a shame you won’t stay like this.  

It seems he’s in a trance for a moment, in awe of his craftsmanship, of what he’s produced, breathing laboured as shining azure eyes drift over your body, slowly, purposefully, as if he’s memorizing every single nick, bite, scrape, bruise, burning the image into his brain forever.

His gaze floats back up to yours, holding it for a moment, pupils big and gaping and swallowing you whole—before something snaps, breaks, and he comes back to himself, remembers why he did it.

Narrowing slightly, his eyes darken, that sadistic smirk returning to his lips. And then he’s shoving his cock into you again, hard and leaking and the prettiest red you’ve ever seen, cute little cunt stretching around him for the second time tonight.

But little girls who act like brats deserve to get fucked like brats, he tells you in a snarl, slender fingers collaring your neck and squeezing slowly, slowly, slowly, crushing the column of your throat.

Everything’s beginning to grow hazy, vision sliding in and out of focus as those calloused hands continue to tighten, and tighten, and tighten. He looks like some sort of sick angel as he looms above you, nothing more than a shadow of sharp edges and smooth curves, inky spikes and glowing sapphire, haloed by the weak neon light that spills in through grimy windows. Jutting bones prod the soft flesh of your inner thighs, carving out a space just for them as his hips snap viciously, relentlessly, obstinately.

And it’s all overwhelming, overstimulating on every front, uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes as you choke roughly on your own sobs, each one being forced from your chest by your Daddy’s harsh thrusts, only to get caught on the palm pressed to your airway, ears ringing from the slap of skin against skin overlapping those harsh words spit at you in his falsely saccharine voice.  

Aw, no, baby, wispy words caressing your cheek as they float by, eyes starting to roll back in your head. Don’t pass out on me, dollface. I want you awake when I fill your cunt with cum.

The pressure around your throat lets up just a hint, and you wheeze in air, a rush of cold flooding your body. You can feel it, that contrasting, familiar heat scorching the pit of your stomach, beginning to curl in on itself more, and more, and more with each pump of his hips, until it explodes, your body arching off the mattress, unintentionally pressing into the hand adorning your neck, restricting your air entirely.

The chuckle that leaves his lips as you choke yourself is dark, would send spears of ice slicing through your veins if you weren’t otherwise focused on trying to fill your lungs with air. Nothing leaves your mouth other than a few choked whines, barely more than a huff of light breath.

But his hips don’t slow, and he’s glaring down at you with parted lips and lidded eyes, pupils gaping, so large you’re unable to detect even the slightest hint of blue outlining them—nothing but big black orbs, absorbing everything in their vision, sucking everything from you, every hitched sob and soft whine and gorgeous wince, each time he pounds against your cervix.

And it’s how your looking up at him—with those gleaming, adoring eyes and that blissful, fucked out grin—that has him cumming with a shuddered f-fuck, forcing his eyes to stay open as he pumps you full of thick cum, desperate to catalogue every little expression that crosses your face, the way your eyes flutter slightly, the way your neck arches, the tiniest little moan slipping through chapped lips as his cock pulses inside of you.

You must pass out for a second, Dabi’s calloused palm lightly tapping against your cheek as he murmurs to you in that sinful, silky voice, sugared sentiments twining around your exhausted body.

Wake up, princess. Daddy isn’t done playing with you yet.

Words tumble past your lips in a mumble, though you aren’t quite sure what you’re saying—everything feels hazy, like you’re gazing through a thin cloud of smoke, and despite the fact that you can barely move, your body feels light, almost floaty in a way, entirely numb to the immense pain it has endured thus far.

Two fingers, coated in thick, gleaming cream, are thrust into your gasping mouth, tongue met with the salty, bitter taste of his cum. You cough around the sudden intrusion, immediately obey when he orders you to clean, sluggish tongue sliding up and lapping at and slipping between them, sucking the digits free of cum.

Good girl, he leans away and your heart flutters weakly at the praise, saliva slicked fingers dipping into your hole again to gather more.

“C’mon,” he breathes as he brings his fingers to your mouth again, sticky viscous glops collected on his fingers. They catch in the dim light streaming through the window, a unique mixture of pale moonbeams and hazy neon, cum almost glittering, almost pretty. “You wanted me so bad, didn’t you?” your head’s moving—nodding, you think, you can’t really tell, breathing shallow as your eyes belatedly follow his glistening fingers—and he smirks down at you. “Then eat my fucking cum,”

Lips part instantly, mouth falling open as your tongue lolls out, eyes drifting up to his and pleading mutely, begging for the substance—the very essence of him—and nearly moaning when he drags his fingers across the saliva coated muscle, curling and sucking his digits back into the heat of your mouth.

And he’s fucking high off of it all, pupils blown to hell, outlined by the thinnest ring of cobalt, barely detectable, visible only when it catches in the moonlight.

A lumpy pile of denim sits abandoned and bunched up near the end of the bed—he must’ve kicked his pants off at some point, though you don’t remember when—and his cock’s hard again, head brushing your inner thigh. It’s hard for you to tear your gaze from it, fleeting thoughts of stamina and impressive grazing through your mind, turning to smoke the moment you try to latch onto them.

He notices, of course—you’ve been staring at it for nearly a minute now, glazed eyes unblinking, soft little pants passing through barely parted lips. But it’s the way you’re staring at it—in the purest, unadulterated form of desire—that makes it jump, twitching a little against your thigh. You think you hear your Daddy breathe out a curse, think his rough fingers brush some hair back from your drenched forehead, think he says something along the lines of how much he fucking loves you, but in your dreamlike state, you can’t be sure.

Because then rough hands are on you, manhandling you as whatever trance he had fallen into yet again snaps once more.

“We’re gonna put that pretty, empty head of yours to good use!” he’s saying almost enthusiastically as he hoists your boneless body up, propping you up against his chest and securing you with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. “Whaddya think about that, hmm, princess? Want Daddy to use your little skull as his own personal cumdump? Huh?” lithe fingers squeeze your cheeks so hard your lips pucker up, a high-pitched whine getting caught in your throat. “That’s all it’s good for anyway, isn’t it?”

You try to nod, but all your head wants to do is flop back against his shoulder.

“Oh baby,” he cooks mockingly, jutting his inky bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“T’is!” you mumble through his grip, drool beginning to collect in the corners of your scrunched mouth, dribbling down your chin. Gazing at him through the corner of your watery eyes, your resolve hardens, doing your best to hold your exhausted body up on your own, expression steeling as you force your woozy head to nod as best you can in his bruising grasp.

“Yeah?” he breathes, mouth curving into a dangerous smirk before his lips are at your ear, voice dropping an octave lower. “You’re fucking stubborn, y’know that? Stubborn little brat, just like your bullheaded brute of a brother,”

And then he’s pushing you down, shoving your head into the mattress and pulling your hips up, a hiss spit through your teeth as he purposefully presses into the fresh bruises.

Your poor little pussy aches, fucked open and raw by his cock, but you are stubborn—you can’t help it, it runs in your blood—exhilarated by the challenge and pushing your hips back weakly towards him.

Your Daddy chuckles behind you, but it’s one of those annoyed chuckles, one of those disbelieving chuckles, one of those chuckles that consists of an audacious smirk, quick short nodding that’s more to himself than anyone else, and a tongue running along his top teeth, sucking on the bones, before it fades from his face completely, replaced with scorn in an instant, eyes cold and jaw clenched as he delivers a harsh backhand to your ass.

Then his body’s blanketing yours, chest hot and heavy against your back, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Oh, you really want me to break you, don’t you?”

No, truly, you don’t, but you grit your teeth, eyes shut tightly against the sting of a fresh wave of tears, trying to stop your head from involuntarily shaking no.

He laughs again, this time mean and sharp and full of malice, as he straightens up, lining his cock up with your hole.

“Nah, nah,” he’s saying as he pushes in, and God, it still hurts, it still stretches you, reopening little sutures created in the stairwell. “I think you do—Actually, I know you do. And Daddy knows best, right?”

Yes, of course, Daddy knows best, Daddy always knows best.

And it burns, that relentless snap of his hips, driving his cock into you with deep growls and grunts, with such force that it’s jostling you up the mattress, little hands planting themselves in a pitiful attempt to press back against him, to keep yourself in one place. Every muscle in your arms screams at the effort, stiff and rigid from being held, kept, still and obedient against the wall for an extended period of time.

The dreaminess has faded again, leaving behind a dull haze, and it all just hurts. It seems to come in bouts, inexplicable waves of numbness and pain, alternating sporadically and sprinkled with spikes of intense pleasure, a potent mix of chemicals swirling in your brain, lust and desire and terror and anguish burning through your veins.

You’re sobbing into the mattress now, fingers curling tightly in his soft black sheets as your bleary vision begins to darken at the edges, mumbling out something almost in a chant—his name, you think, though you’re not sure, it all sounds muffled to your ringing ears—vibrations of your voice getting caught in your throat, hitching with your sobs and the rough piston of his hips.

It’s building again, licks of fire scalding hot against the walls of your stomach, the temperature rising with each drag of his cock against that spot, until you’re sure the flames are going to engulf you from the inside out.

Little squeaks, poor imitations of moans, escape your lips, interspersed with your pathetic wails. He’s speaking once more—you can feel it, his chest reverberating against yours, lips moving against your ear again. Something rumbles, rattles, deep and dark and dangerous at the very core of his body, and then he’s tangling a hand in your hair and tugging, hauling you up, a choked cry slipping from your lips.

It pulls you from unconsciousness’s grasp, just for a moment, clears the mist from your mind as he snarls against your ear, taking the cartilage between his teeth and biting down, hard.

“Thought I told you to answer me the next time I ask you a fucking question,” he breathes, and he almost sounds gleeful, contradicting his voice, so rough, so hoarse, so hot.

You did, Daddy, you did, you’re trying to say, trying to nod in the vice grip he has on your strands, the words jumbled and muddled and near incomprehensible, wet and messy and coated in spit.

“But I guess my—Christ—my cock makes you too stupid to do that, huh?” he’s panting now, in time with his thrusts, huffs of breath sweltering against your already sticky skin. “What would your goody-two-shoes brother say if he could see you, hmm? If he could see how fucking dumb his little slut of a baby sister goes from my cum,”

It’s too much, too much, Daddy, too much, the brutal pounding of his cockhead against your swollen cervix and the continuous stream of strained, husky, filthy words he’s spewing in your ear and the sting in your scalp and that spot, that spot, that spot—

It hits you so hard it’s painful, knocks what little breath you had right out of you as your entire body convulses on his cock, little cunt clenching and gushing as you weep Da-Daddy! over and over and over, the only word your soupy brain is capable of conceiving, body going pliant in his arms as your head lolls back against his shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open while he continues to drive his cock into you, hard and fast and messy.

He cums with the prettiest broken whine you’ve ever heard—or at least, you think he does, entire body gone numb once again, think you feel his hips juddering and his cock pulsing, think you feel that familiar, thick substance filling you to the brim. Everything is still for a moment, his chest heaving against your arched back, and then he laughs malevolently, though it sounds far away, even though you can feel the sound vibrating against you.

“That ought’a teach you to say no to me again,” he spits harshly in your ear, giving one more hard yank on your hair before letting go completely, your abused body collapsing in a heap on his mattress.

It feels like you’re more Dabi than yourself now, with his name written all over your body, signed by his mouth, his teeth, his fingers, and his cum leaking out of you, drying hard and sticky on your thighs, his scent being all you can smell, all you can taste, heady and fiery. And as you crawl into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness—finally, finally—you think about just how much can change, and how fast it does, in a mere 92 days.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Three months earlier

The air is hazy with thick smoke, heavy enough to dilute the already dim yellow light shining from the bare lightbulbs overhead. The stench of cheap beer, weed and sweat stings your nose, and it wrinkles reflexively.

You aren’t supposed to be here.

Throbbing music radiates through the house, causing the structure to tremble in time with the beat, the dirty drywall you’re currently pressed up against quivering in response. It’s so loud it hurts, vibrating through the warped linoleum floors and through your body. It makes you shiver in disgust, as if it’s some sort of parasite worming it’s way through your veins in timed intervals.

Your brother would kill you if he knew.

You’ve been backed into a corner—literally, surrounded by three college boys you’ve never seen before as they drunkenly leer at you. They’re a year or two older than you, glassy half-lidded eyes scanning your body in a way that makes you feel filthy, in a way that makes you want to scrub your skin raw to rid it of their slimy gazes.

They’re mumbling out something, speaking amongst themselves in low voices, peppered with raspy snickers that make your skin crawl. Pressing further into the corner, you quickly wrack your mind for something—anything—that will get them to part just a little, that’ll crack the wall of bodies you’re now surrounded by just enough for you to barrel through. Adrenaline begins to surge through your veins as you gear up, drawing in a deep breath, and—

“Whadda we have here?”

The men part immediately at the sound of that low voice, smooth as melted chocolate, revealing a figure with spiky onyx hair, an involuntary gasp escaping your lips the moment your eyes collide with sapphire.

“Ah, I thought it was you,” he smirks, peering down at you with a gaze so intense it feels like your body’s been set aflame. “What’s a good little girl like you doing in a place like this, hmm?”

Dabi.

This wasn’t the first time you had seen him, remembering the man with the pretty cobalt eyes and inky hair standing under a singular flickering lamp post outside of the tiny house you and your brother share, or lingering on the threshold of the front door, eyes lazily darting around the space as he waits.

He never comes inside. Your brother doesn’t allow it.

You’ve barely spoken any words to him, always responding to his polite greetings with shy nods or little waves.

But this is the first time you’re meeting him properly.

Feet bolted to the floor, you try to respond, only able to emit a pathetic little squeak.

He huffs out a condescending chuckle, gazing down the bridge of his nose at you, head tilted up just a touch, lidded crystal eyes glittering in the dim light. That trademark smirk spreads into something darker, something almost ominous in nature, something that whispers in your ear that it knows something you don’t, sending sharp spikes of ice shooting up your spine.

“Does your brother know you’re here?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes widening in panic as anxiety begins to rise in your throat. He isn’t about to rat you out, is he?

“Thought so. Dunno why I asked,” he heaves a heavy sigh, chest rising with the force of it, as if he’s extremely exasperated, as if you’re some sort of child lost at a supermarket and he’s bringing you back to your parents. “Alright, let’s go,”

A hand extends, hanging limp in the smoky air for a moment, waiting, before Dabi sighs again with a roll of his eyes, latching onto your wrist and all but dragging you out of the corner, maneuvering through the mass of sweaty bodies crowding the dingy living room.

“We’re leaving?” you ask dumbly as Dabi approaches the back door, hand still wrapped in a firm grasp around your arm.

“Yep. My work here is done, and you,” he tuts his tongue with a slow shake of his head, hidden smile on his face. “Your work here is done, too,”

“W-Where are we going?” you ask as the two of you stumble outside, shivering a little as the cool, fresh air hits your heated skin.

“No idea. Away from this place,” he looks back at your briefly, giving your wrist a soft squeeze before dropping it. “You tryna put your brother in an early grave or somethin’?”

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head again. “No, I just—”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” his words echo your thoughts from before. “You were in some real danger for a second, y’know that?”

“I-I know. Thank you for, uh, s-saving me, Sir,”

“Sir?” his eyes are bright with mirth, shining despite the weak light provided by the waxing moon. The smirk returns, and you feel it again—like he’s plotting something, like he’s got some big secret he’s hiding, a plan, something up his sleeve. “Sir is nice, but I think there’s another name you’d rather call me,”

Eyebrows knit in confusion, your eyes drift to the ground, mulling over his words. Something else you’d rather call him? Like what? You’ve only seen the guy a few—

“Still have no idea why you haven’t fucked him yet,” one of your friends muses as Dabi’s exiting his car, eyes watching him lazily from where you’re both seated on the front lawn.

“Keigo would murder me, literally,” you giggle a little, glancing over at the man with inky hair before looking away again, down at your lap as little fingers thread through the grass beneath you and shaking your head.

“Shame,” she sighs, twirling her sticky pink lollipop idly, the candy catching in the sun. “He’s Daddy as hell,”

A sharp gasp leaves your parted lips, eyes snapping back to her face and holding them for a moment before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, your fingers tapping her bare knee in a silent warning that he’s approaching.

Heavy black boots collide with the front stone path, buckles jingling daintily, his head perking up in a catlike manner, trademark smirk forming on his lips as you both urgently try to calm your laughter.

“Ladies,” he nods with a wink as he passes, little giggles cutting off instantaneously, the two of you mumbling shy greetings in response.

That was the only time you had ever spoken to him, until now.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. He did hear.

He chuckles slightly, dropping the subject with a shake of his head.

“So. Where to?” he asks expectantly, feet slowing to a stop on the cracked sidewalk as he taps out a cigarette. He whips a silver Zippo open, sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal cutting though the silent nighttime air. “Home?”

A shrill bubble of incredulous laughter escapes your throat. Dabi glances over at you, amused, raising an eyebrow in question as he cups the flame and brings it to his lips.

“Do you want to put my brother in an early grave?” you snort.

“I could just walk you to the street, you know,” he rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “Precious niisan wouldn’t even need to see me,”

You shake your head, idly kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe as you begin walking again. The campus is beginning to bleed into the city now, engulfing the two of you in familiar florescent light. “No, I can’t go home,”

“Why?”

“I…” you trail off, heat flooding your cheeks. “I, um, told him I’d be staying at a friend’s place tonight,”

Dabi gasps mockingly. “Baby, you lied to your niisan?”

Knocking your shoulder against his arm, you scoff, trying to hide the stupid smile the nickname conjures. “Oh, shut up,”

“Getting bold now, I see,” he hums to himself. “Could’a swore just a few minutes ago you were scared of me,”

“N-Not scared, just—uh, just surprised, that’s all,”

“Uh-huh, sure. Tell me again why you can’t just go to this friend’s house?”

“Well, she’s—she’s, like, y’know—” you shrug as a form of explanation, deflating a little at his unimpressed stare as he blows smoke out his nose. “She’s going home with some guy,” you mumble. “A-And I was supposed to too, but…”

Dabi tsks, shaking his head in false sympathy. “Sweetheart, you’re a teenage movie cliché,”

“Shut up,”

“You tell me to shut up one more time and I’m gonna have to do something about it,” he singsongs, a thinly veiled threat coated in sugar. Swallowing thickly, you glance up at him, blinking twice. His eyes tell you that he’s not fucking around, despite the relaxed features of his face, smile easygoing and gaze lidded.

“S-Sorry,” you murmur, looking away.

“Don’t you know? Good little girls don’t speak like that to Daddy,”

He spits the word out, almost patronizing in his tone, but that fails to stop the way your stomach flutters when it falls from his lips, fails to prevent the choked little gasp that escapes yours. He laughs loudly, your cheeks burning with shame.

Sapphire eyes glint in the pale moonlight, as if he’s just discovered the most valuable treasure, as if he’s just been given the key to the universe—a predator who’s just ensnared it’s prey, and the smirk that slowly etches itself across his face is nothing short of sinister.

“Do you wanna come home with Daddy, princess?”

He’s caging you between his body and the murky convenience store window as he asks, both palms pressed flat against the grimy glass.

“Hmm?”

No. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, can almost hear your brother’s voice in the back of your mind telling you not to, but you’re too enticed in sapphire to care, drawn into pretty, almost glittering blue fire, letting the flames lick your skin as you immerse yourself in it, deeper and deeper and deeper, allowing it to wrap itself around you, to consume you, to knock the very breath out of you as you gaze into it.

“Okay,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

He only has one bed and no couch, he informs you as he leads you up four flights of stairs, explaining that the elevator’s been broken for a few months now, panting out the words just a little.

A soft giggle slips from your lips, amplified by the empty stairwell and echoing off the concrete walls, and Dabi looks back at you, amused.

“Something funny, princess?”

And although there’s a friendly grin on his face and mirth in his eyes, something in his voice makes you tremble, shoots scorching sparks up your spine and sends them rushing through your veins, and your laughter immediately cuts off.

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and hoping that he didn’t catch the full body shiver that coursed through your figure just a second ago, all thanks to his voice. “Just laughing at the absurdity of it, s’all,”

“Ah,” he says sagely, nodding once. “Well, here we are,”

A tattooed hand gestures vaguely to a white door with a large, black 4 painted on it, the paint beginning to chip away, worn down and faded in some spots.

Dabi’s apartment is small, but you like it. He’s surprised, he tells you, expected someone like you—someone brought up with luxury, someone who’s never had to ask for or want anything in their life, because they always already had it—would hate it.

“Or maybe, that’s exactly why you like it,”

It’s a little snarky, the way those words flow out of his mouth, biting your cheek as they pass, and you wince a little.

“I think it’s homey,” you say quietly, tiny voice raw and honest, deciding to omit the fact that you’ve never really had a space that felt homey yourself. “It’s very you. I really do like it.”

His eyes soften at your gentle confession, features relaxing a little as calloused fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then, I’m glad,”

For a moment, you’re positive he’s going to kiss you, staring down at you so intently with that look in his eyes as they slowly sweep across your face. But he turns on his heel a moment later, stalking into the tiny bachelor and beckoning for you to follow with a wave of his hand, flicking on a lamp as he passes.

“You hungry?” he’s asking as he walks. “I know this kickass noodle place that delivers 24/7,” he collapses on his bed, outfitted in black sheets, looking up at you expectantly when you stop hesitantly a few feet away. “You should probably eat something,” he continues, pushing himself up on his elbows, legs dangling off the end of the mattress. “Especially if there’s still alcohol in your—”

“Oh no, I don’t drink,” you cut him off without thinking, the words etched into your permanent vocabulary, sitting down next to him, just a hint too close.

“No, no, of course you don’t,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head, sitting up fully. “Let me guess; niisan doesn’t allow it,”

A frown forms on your lips, brows knitting together. “Well I—”

“Ah! Stop,” he cuts you off with a disinterested wave and a roll of his eyes. “I’ve heard enough,”

Normally, you’d scoff at someone speaking to you so rudely. But with Dabi, with Dabi, it’s different. A little giggle escapes your lips without your permission, the bubbly noise surprising you, and Dabi chuckles in response, a genuine grin spreading across his face, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“So. Food?”

The takeout arrives at 1:56am, Dabi bringing the bag full of noodles and other appetizers—too much food for only two people, if you’re being honest—back to his bed, placing it in front of you and then crawling onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged.

The action surprises you—he doesn’t have a table, but you had been expecting him to bring the food to the small breakfast bar, complete with two mismatched stools, not his bed.

Old Hammer Horror films flicker on the TV as the two of you pick through the food together, Styrofoam containers littering the bedspread. And it’s…fun—it’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time, a strange, unfamiliar giddiness fizzing in your tummy every time you make him laugh, every time his eye catches yours, every time he shoves your knee and calls you dollface, despite the deep, honey-coated voice echoing in your head telling you that you shouldn’t be doing this and he’s dangerous.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

“Bedtime,” Dabi says simply as he returns from the little kitchenette after storing the leftover takeout in the fridge, using a hand to tug at the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Wha—”

The material hits you square in the face and an involuntary, entirely unsolicited giggle bubbles past your lips, pulling the garment from your head.

“Pajamas,” he nods at the fabric now bunched in your hands, but you can’t seem to find your voice to respond.

Teeth bite into your tongue hard enough to make you wince in an effort to keep a gasp within your chest when he comes into view. He’s lean—toner than you expected, muscles gliding smoothly under his skin as he moves—and you’re unsurprised to find his chest and back decorated with vibrant, intricate tattoos.

Of course, you knew Dabi had tattoos—they’re on his face, his neck, his collarbone, disappearing under the neckline of his shirt and resurfacing under his short sleeves, curling around his arms, brilliant flowing ink telling stories across his skin. They’re beautiful—they’re mesmerizing, inquisitive eyes slowly roaming the expanse of his chest.

But you had never noticed the soft, slightly puckered skin they hid. Scars, your mind provides dimly.

“Do you want to touch them?”

The rumble of his deep voice snaps you out of your revere, heat flooding your cheeks when you realize you were staring. There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you can’t quite tell if his offer is serious or not, your eyes floating up to his.

“Here,” he chuckles a little as he sits down, offering you his forearm, flipping it over and resting it on the bed.

He lets you trace every single one. He won’t tell you where or how he got the scars, and you don’t push, even as curiosity erodes your chest. It’s impolite to pry, Keigo’s voice echoes through your mind, and you nod once to yourself.

You don’t have sex that night. He doesn’t force you. You nearly tell him that you’re surprised, what, a man of his stature, of his reputation, has a pretty girl in his bed and he doesn’t fuck her?, petty retaliation for what he had said to you when you entered the apartment hours ago, but you chicken out at the last minute. You’d soon come to find that some things are better left unsaid.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

Spring has just arrived, bringing with it cool, gentle breezes and swaying blades of grass decorated with glistening dewdrops that sparkle when the sun catches them in just the right way. The smell of freshly battered cinnamon sugar donuts and cheap coffee wafts in through the open window, drifting over your bodies and embracing you.

It rouses you, and your eyes flutter open to be met with Dabi’s face. And, God, he’s so damn pretty, with thick dark eyelashes fanned out delicately across inked skin and tousled onyx hair, breathing deep and calm, sharp jaw on display. Reaching out, you daintily trace over his relaxed features—circling defined cheekbones, sliding down the slope of his nose, trailing along his jaw—allowing yourself a moment to admire him before thick guilt begins to strangle you.

You should go. Keigo still thinks that you’re at a friend’s house, and doesn’t expect you to be home until late afternoon, but that belated bitter guilt finally brands the back of your tongue, face souring a little at the idea of deceiving your big brother. And after all he’s done for you, niisan tsks in your head, voice sweet and syrupy, and you can almost see the disappointment in his eyes as he shakes his head. We’re all each other has, you know. And you do, really, you do know, head nodding routinely, instinctual at this point, as you begin to push yourself up.

“Stay,” Dabi says softly, eyes still closed as a hand catches your wrist. You stop immediately, allowing him to pull you back down to the mattress as lids lift to reveal the most brilliant sapphires. Fingers trace down the curve of your neck and you hum, arching into his touch.

“Keigo—”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he cuts you off, his voice still quiet, rough around the edges and heavy with sleep. “C’mon. We’ll go get pie for breakfast, and I’ll have you home to niisan by dinner, promise,”

Giggling a little, you roll into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you atop his chest as he flops onto his back.

“Pie,” you laugh, resting your chin on his toned muscles and gazing up at him. “For breakfast?”

“Why not?” He asks, and that smile is back again, the boyish one that looks like he’s hiding something, a little amusing secret just for him, the one that induces a whole flock of butterflies in your chest. “It’s Saturday,” he shrugs as best he can, then squeezes you to his chest. “You don’t got anything to do, I don’t got anything to do...”

Crystal eyes glitter in the morning sun as they gaze at you, golden rays creeping through the small gaps in his thick purple curtains, swaying gently in the wind.

Molars sink into the inside flesh of your cheek as you think, and Dabi tuts his tongue softly, a hand coming to gently pull the skin from between your teeth.

“Okay,”

His lips curl into a smirk, something sharp flashing in his cobalt eyes. “Okay,”

That’s how it begins—with deceptively bright, youthful smiles and cherry pie for breakfast— and five days later, in the backseat of his Cadillac Eldorado while James Cagney flickers on a worn out, off-white screen and two of his fingers are three knuckles deep in you, he asks you to be his, digits curling in your pretty little pussy as he breathes the words against the shell of your ear.

You’re whimpering out yes as you cum, nodding almost frantically against his shoulder as your hips roll towards his palm.

That’s it, that’s his good girl.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

But it progresses faster than you ever thought it would—faster than you ever thought possible—like a shot of morphine straight to your bloodstream, pupils gaping as DabiDabiDabi surges through your veins, becoming all you can think about—all you want to think about, all you want to do, eat, feel, breathe.

Midnight double-features of old Hollywood films at the local rundown drive-in become one of the many staples of your relationship, finding comfort in the sharp smell of buttersalt popcorn stinging your nose, in the way the film’s sound cracks and pops as it travels through the car radio, staticky like an old record, in the way Dabi forces a cherry Jolly Rancher from his mouth into yours, the hard candy clacking against your teeth.

This is how you spend most of your weeknights for the next month or so—passing candy through kisses in the backseat of the Eldorado, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, stained red and purple and blue from the cheap artificial dye, hands wandering up dresses and little fingers tugging at beltloops and buckles.

On Saturday mornings—sometimes Sundays, too, if you’ve been a really good girl—you find yourself in a familiar red booth at The League—a little diner tucked away on one of the city side streets not too far from Dabi’s apartment—cheap speckled plastic glittering in the sunlight and sticking to your thighs as your favourite waitress, a young woman by the name of Himiko who insists that you call her Mimi, takes your order. She seems to know your Daddy—your Dabi—somehow, but you don’t press, because it’s impolite to pry, you know and niisan raised you better than this.

He always lets you pick what you want for breakfast, but Daddy always orders it for you, always reminds you the mornings you decide on pancakes that if you get those, you aren’t allowed any sundaes or a slice of pie, because too much sugar is bad for his babygirl, and he knows how much syrup you drown those things in, dollface.

But there’s one staple of your relationship that you love more than all the others.

Joyrides.

That’s what he calls them, those drives through the bad parts of the city, the parts with cracked concrete sidewalks and shattered glass and needles littered in the dying grass.

Dabi takes you along frequently, tells you that you have an important job to do, that you play a crucial role in this whole operation, because the police—including your father—have been cracking down especially hard on dealing in this area. But nobody bothers to question a seemingly innocent young woman delivering inconspicuous brown paper bags—bags full of pretty little pills and tiny baggies of white powder—to shop owners and crumbling apartment complexes, eerily reminiscent of a Girl Scout selling cream filled cookies and thin-mints.

Keigo would kill you, if he knew.

It’s an instantaneous rush, though, being allowed to participate in Dabi’s business ventures, being allowed to help. It’s a privilege, you think, makes you feel like he trusts you, and you absolutely live for the praise, for that gorgeous smile he gives you after you deliver the sweets to the client, for the passionate kisses he rewards you with for being such a good little helper.

Joyrides are the best. Because it’s just you and him, the Eldorado’s radio struggling to play whatever station it’s picking up on—usually some sort of sixties rock—as you cruise the streets in his absurdly large car, the sky smeared with strokes of faded pinks and oranges, peppered with wispy clouds that look like loose strands of white cotton candy.

And sometimes, after his work is all finished, he’ll drive you to one of those cliffs you’ve come to know so well and let you ride him in the drivers seat—precious little whines and pathetic broken whimpers spilling from your lips as you rest your head against his shoulder, gyrating your hips in fast, shallow little circles, using his cock like it’s a toy, just like he told you to—before taking you back home to fuck you properly, to fuck you right.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s quaint, the little house you and your niisan live in, with its perfectly trimmed hedges and well-manicured grass, a stone walkway leading up to the front door, which is painted white. White windowsills, white brick, white, white, white, the whole thing is white—bright, pure, untarnished.

It’s just enough space for the two of you, your adoptive father, an absurdly large man by the name of Toshinori Yagi, had stated proudly, the first day he showed it to you.

And it’s only a short walk from the university, his wife chimed in with a smile too wide for her face, nodding excessively.

It’s convenient, they had said, the day you received your acceptance letter and scholarship offer from the university your brother attended. It’ll be good for you to stay with your older brother for a little, before going off into the world on your own, they had promised.

You hadn’t really wanted to go to this university—would’ve much preferred to go away to school in another country—but you didn’t. Keigo knew it, too, knew your desire to leave, to see more of the world, to experience it on your own without that hulking shadow with the wild hair. But he coaxed you into it, convinced you to stay, just like he always does, begging you softly not to leave your poor niisan all alone as gentle fingers pushed locks of hair from your face, trailing down your cheek and coming to cup your jaw, reminding you that you’re all each other has.

And you had nodded, nuzzled your face against his palm, sought comfort and relief in the presence of your big brother, just as you always do. He was right; you had your entire life to travel the world, what’s the rush? Why leave now? Stay with him, just for a little longer.

But your niisan, your niisan has a secret.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know. Keigo has always had a penchant for living fast, after all, seems to somehow incorporate conceptual and literal speed into all aspects of his life—his marks in school, his record-breaking track races, and now, his personal life, too.

It started in high school. He was in twelfth grade. You still don’t know who gave him his first taste, still don’t know why he decided to shoot up that night, but he did.

And it made him feel invincible. It made him feel like he could fly.

He hid it well, didn’t look like a heroin addict—at least, not what the words ‘heroin addict’ usually conjure up. His topaz eyes were bright as ever, even if his pupils were just a pinprick; nails cut so short it looked painful, to keep from scratching and scabbing his body; was always sure to keep his track marks well hidden, methodical in choosing his injection sites, and kept up with regular hygiene, even if his wild, windswept hair did get a little messier.

Yes, he hid it well.

But he couldn’t hide it from you for long, didn’t hide it from you well enough, becoming increasingly careless the deeper he spiralled into the addiction.

And it takes a while for you to truly acknowledge it. You didn’t want to—not at first, anyway—didn’t want to believe that your all-star, top-of-his-class, golden-child of a big brother was a junkie.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way he began recklessly disposing of the needles in the small trash can under his desk instead of hiding them in the kitchen trash whenever your mother asked him to take it out, ignored the burnt spoon you found in the sink and the bloody Q-tips you found littering the counter of the bathroom the two of you shared, ignored the way those tiny orange syringe caps had begun appearing in odd places, seeming to pop up more and more frequently.

Yes, you ignored it, until he stole one of the shoelaces off of your sneakers. And you still can’t explain it, exactly, can’t explain why that was the final straw, why that had you gripping a laceless shoe in a trembling hand as you stormed into the washroom uninvited and unannounced, catching him with the string between his teeth, just as the last of that disgusting orangish-brown liquid sunk into his veins.

The words disintegrate on your tongue, escaping in a pitiful little squeak, all of the fury you felt towards him for his behaviour melting the instant your eyes catch the end of the injection, wide and unblinking as they stare at the needle stuck in his forearm.

For a moment, neither of you are able to speak, Keigo’s mouth opening and closing a few times as his eyes flood with tears, the prettiest topaz shining in the warm washroom light as they frenetically search your face.

“Sit,” you tell him, finally breaking the silence, your voice not your own. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head a little in misunderstanding, but you persist. “Sit,”

Shoulders deflating, he holds your gaze for a moment longer before nodding once and obeying, sitting on the closed toilet.

“We have to—” you stop as your chin begins to wobble, swallowing thickly against the sob crawling up your throat, quivering hands rooting haphazardly through a first-aid kit. “W-We have to clean those, so they don’t get infected,”

Glassy golden eyes watch you intently, his chest hiccupping just a little as he wordlessly holds his arms out to you, armed with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, the scent stinging your nose.

There aren’t many—only a few little pinpricks on each arm, some decorated with dark blooms of periwinkle and violet, but they still cause your tongue to crumble to bitter, suffocating ash in your mouth.

Tiny fingers encircle his wrist, your touch always so soft, so gentle, as if you’re afraid to break him, and he chokes on a noise that sounds suspiciously similar to a sob.

“You don’t—You shouldn’t have to—” and he can’t even force the words out, breathing out forcefully through his nose as his tears finally overflow, glistening drops streaming down his cheeks, bleary eyes unblinking, focused on your little fingers as they continue their tender ministrations with so much care, with so much love it’s nearly stifling, and he can’t breathe, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve it—

“I want to,” a knuckle catches one of his fresh tears, swiping it across his cheekbone and leaving a glimmering trail in its wake. “Alright? I want to,”

And this—this becomes a habit.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You don’t tell Keigo about your relationship. Not at first, at least, conjuring up flimsy excuses that become more ridiculous as the days pass, as your disappearances steadily increase. Dabi doesn’t want to, makes up some bullshit excuse about how he isn’t ready yet. But you buy it anyway, and you wait.

Until the morning of one of your niisan’s big races, the ones where multiple trainers and coaches come from all over the country to assess his performance, when Dabi shows up entirely unannounced and uninvited, makes sure he’s in Keigo’s line of sight as he bounces around at the starting line, and kisses the life out of you, right in front of him.  

That’s the only time he attends one of Keigo’s races.

The rest you continue attending by yourself. Dabi doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to have you out of his sight at all lately, but he knows it’s moot to argue with you. You’re going, you told him firmly, the night before Keigo’s next race, whether he likes it or not.

But, boy, was your niisan fuming by the time the two of you arrived home that day.

He hadn’t cared that he had, essentially, lost the race, hadn’t cared that he didn’t even manage to place in the top three for the first time in literal years, hadn’t cared that he just blew several chances with potential coaches and sponsors.

None of it mattered.

With a rough hand wrapped around your bicep, he all but yanks you out of the car, doesn’t care that you’re stumbling over your own feet as he drags you towards the front door, doesn’t care that he shoves you inside the house so hard you do trip, crying out as your hands and knees collide with the cold tiled floor.

And he’s yelling, yelling at the top of his lungs, the moment that white door slams shut, shut so hard the walls tremble.

“Fucking Touya Todoroki!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You can barely see him through your tears as you quickly flip yourself over, beginning to inch away on your hands and feet as you stare up at him, breath hitching in your chest.

“Wh-Who?”

“Dabi, for Christ sake!”

“T-T—” Touya?

“Oh Jesus, don’t tell me—He didn’t tell you his fucking name?”

No, you shake your head quickly, chest stuttering as the name echoes through your mind, your big brother nothing but a blur of crimson and gold advancing towards you, mumbling to himself about how no, of course he didn’t, why would he? Of course not, as he drags nimble fingers through his messy hair.

“To-Todo—”

“Todoroki,” he spits, so harsh it makes you flinch.

“Your coa—”

“Yeah, I know his father,” Keigo rolls his eyes as he crouches down, catches your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, and you cease all action immediately, freezing in his grip. “You know his brother,”

Your brow furrows as you belatedly search your memory for any instance of the name, gunmetal grey and snow white flashing through your mind, but everything’s too foggy, too hazy with the fear of disappointing your niisan more, eyes squeezing shut as you hiccup at the mere thought.

But then he’s sighing, always knows when he’s gone a little too far—you are very delicate, after all, so small and naïve and in desperate need of someone to take care of you, aren’t you?—collapsing back on his heels and pulling you into his lap as soft hands smooth down your hair, murmuring it’s alright, it’s alright and niisan’s got you, niisan’s got you.

“What’re you doin’ with a man like that, my little songbird?” his voice is gentle as he rocks your bodies back and forth, after your sobs have calmed a bit.

What are you? you want to ask, front teeth sinking into your tongue hard enough to make you wince, keeping those three tiny words inside of your mouth.

“I like him,” you mumble instead, nuzzling your face into his chest and hiding from those bright, inquisitive topaz eyes.

“You—You like him,” he snorts to himself in disbelief, shaking his head a little.

“I do,” you respond, a little firmer as you pull back to stare at your big brother’s face, eyebrows knit together in determination, sparks of fury igniting deep in your chest at the thought of Keigo thinking he knows better, when he’s just as bad.

“He isn’t good for you—”

“He isn’t good for you,” you shoot back, tone clipped as you level your gaze, squirming a little in his arms. His grasp tightens, like he’s terrified you’re going to leave, honey eyes holding yours for a beat before he lets out a breath, looking away, defeated.

“That doesn’t mean you should be allowed to see him,” he mutters, glancing at your tear-stained face for a moment before his eyes flit away again. “But…” his chest rises with a deep inhale, pressing against you. “I guess…I guess it isn’t very fair of me to, uh, judge you, is it?”

“No,” you pout a little. “It isn’t,”

He huffs out a soft chuckle, gazing at you from the side of his eye, a tiny smirk spreading across his face. “Stop being so cute,” he grumbles, squeezing you against him just a bit too hard, giggles spilling from your lips as your fingers curl in the cotton of his hoodie. “I’m trying to be mad at you, y’know,”

“Kei-nii,” you whine with a roll of your eyes, shoving his shoulder weakly, though there’s a smile on your lips.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s saying as lithe fingers brush some hair back from your face, palm resting against your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw rhythmically. “Just—Promise me, if he ever hurts you…You’ll tell me immediately, yeah?”

Blinking a few times, your eyes search his face, sobering up as gold bores into you. There’s something in his stare, something you’ve never seen before, something that you can’t decipher, and it sends chills pebbling across your skin. Swallowing thickly, you nod, little jerky movements as your eyes hold his. “Y-Yeah, promise, niisan,”

“Good,” he whispers, chin resting atop the crown of your head as he cradles you to his chest. “We’re all we have. Never forget it.”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You only question Dabi about his name once, lounging around on his bed in the early hours of the morning, tangled in his sheets, wearing his t-shirt, with his large hand resting on your bare thigh. His head’s tipped back against the headboard as he exhales smoke in pretty little curls that disintegrate into hazy nothingness only a moment later.

“T-Touya?” Your hearts thudding against your ribcage as you almost whisper the name, barely audible at all, but his head snaps forward, sapphire eyes finding yours immediately.

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, that you’ve crossed some invisible line you hadn’t had a clue about, his glare scathing your skin; but then his features relax, and a little smirk spreads across his lips.

“Ah, so he finally told you,” his voice is quiet, and you can’t read his tone, eyes squinting a little as you lean towards him. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he speaks up, voice ringing out clear and strong. “Don’t call me that again,”

The or else is implied, and you nod meekly, promising him softly that you’ll never utter it again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

It’s been gnawing at you all week, sitting heavy like a block of lead in your stomach, the cuticles on your left thumb bitten raw in agitation. You need to tell him. You’re going to tell him, it’s just…

It just never seemed like the right time to tell him—then again, is there ever a right time to tell your older brother that you’re spending the entire weekend at his drug dealer’s place?

But now it’s Friday, and Dabi will be here in a few minutes, and you still have yet to let Keigo know.

Because Keigo is currently otherwise occupied. With a girl.

You hadn’t been expecting to hear the tinny laughter of a woman when you entered the house, arriving home after your last class of the day, hadn’t been expecting to walk into the living room to find said girl splayed across your niisan’s lap, staring up at him dreamily as endless giggles spilled from her painted lips, hadn’t been expecting him to be so completely enamoured with her that he doesn’t even greet you.

It burns up all of the anxiety that had been building inside you in an instant, turns it into boiling rage that bubbles and pops, noxious as it rises up your throat.

And so, you decide that you won’t say anything at all. If he’s too busy to even acknowledge you like he normally does every single day, then surely he doesn’t care if you leave, right?

“I’m going out,” you toss airily over your shoulder as your halfway out the front door, a small grin spreading across you lips as you spot Dabi leaning lazily against his car. He gives you a nod of acknowledgement, smug grin of his own forming on his lips.

Keigo shoots up immediately, nearly knocking the girl to the floor, moving faster than he ever has in his life as he catches your wrist and tugs, hard. A loud yelp sounds from the back of your throat and you stumble backwards, right into your big brother’s chest.

“Where? Huh? Where?” he growls out the word through clenched teeth, squeezing again. “With who? That—That fucking scumbag?”

At the sound of your yelp, Dabi straightens up instantly, usual lidded eyes now wide open and alert, zeroing in on where Keigo has ensnared you.

“Not like it matters to you, not when you have a whore to entertain,” you spit, and though your gaze is blazing, your eyes are filling with tears, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Right?” you push, after a few moments of silence.

His grip loosens, although he doesn’t let go completely, fingers still clasped around you.

“Princess, I…”

“No,” you snap, viciously pulling yourself free of him. “Don’t princess me. Not after ignoring me like that,”

“You’re overreacting—”

“Then so are you,” you cut him off sharply, already beginning to back away and blinking hard to clear your eyes of stubborn tears. “I’m spending the weekend at Dabi’s. I’ll see you on Sunday,”

Dabi catches you the moment you’re within reach, drawing you close to his chest for a second before pulling back. Calloused hands gently raise your wrist, sapphire eyes assessing the damage. His thumb caresses the rapidly bruising area rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth, and he frowns deeply, his gaze finally meeting yours.

“Does he do this often? Hurt you like this?”

And it’s startling, shocking, to see the overflowing concern in his crystal eyes, studying your face intently as you try to find your voice. You don’t think he’s ever sounded that serious before.

“I—No, of course not,” you shake your head, tongue tripping over the words. “We—Y’know, siblings fight, and stuff, it’s—he doesn’t know his own strength, sometimes, uh, forgets it, a-and I bruise easily,” you shrug, wincing a little at the serious expression still etched deep into Dabi’s face.

“If he ever puts his hands on you again, I’ll fucking kill him,” Dabi says slowly, softly, as if he’s reciting the morning news to you, dark eyes drifting up to refocus on the figure still standing in the doorway. “Do you understand me?” he asks, though his stare does not leave Keigo’s, voice still calm, almost serene. “I’ll fucking kill him,”

He won’t, you reassure him, countless times over the next few weeks. Niisan’s never intentionally hurt me, Daddy, he won’t, I promise.

And they’re all true, those words you repeat to him, over and over and over again, while you comb fingers through his inky hair or press chaste kisses against his scarred skin. They’re all true.

Until they aren’t.

You should’ve known, really, not to talk about it. He doesn’t—not when you’re cleaning his track marks or wiping sweat from his forehead, not when he lays his head in your lap as he’s coming down, eyes fluttering as your fingers thread through his hair, not even when you’re feeding him teaspoons of water to keep him hydrated as his body forces him to throw up nothing, again, lips dry and cracked, skin clammy and cold—and you shouldn’t, either.

“Have you ever thought about switching to pills?” You ask one night, casually, as if this is mundane, normal, to discuss while washing dishes. “I heard oxy is like, heroin in a pill,”

His jaw clenches, you can see the motion out of the corner of your eye, quickly refocusing your gaze on the bowl in your hands, the same bowl you’ve been washing for about five minutes now.

“No.”

“Why not? They’re more controlled—”

“I said no,”

“And I asked why not,” you spit, dropping the bowl from your hands. It cracks as it collides with the aluminum of the sink, the sound piercing through the tense air as you turn to glare at your brother, soapy hands on your hips. “It would be safer—”

“Marginally—”

“That’s still better than nothing, Keigo! Christ,” you sigh, running a sudsy hand through your hair. “They’re all fucking opioids, what’s the difference!? They’re all gonna get you high the same way, aren’t they?”

“No—for fuck’s sake—”

You wouldn’t understand, even if he tried to explain to you. You wouldn’t understand that he’s already attempted this, attempted to switch from heroin to pills, and that it wasn’t the same—isn’t the same. You wouldn’t understand that oxy doesn’t give the same instantaneous rush as heroin does, doesn’t take his breath away like heroin does, doesn’t warm his entire fucking body the way heroin does.

No, you wouldn’t understand how most of the time he feels like he can’t fucking breathe until he shoots up, wouldn’t understand how, at this point, heroin feels like an old friend, safe and cozy and more comforting than anything he’s ever felt before, than even your arms are, wouldn’t understand how heroin makes him feel like he’s fucking invincible, like he can take on the entire world in one day, like he can continue living.

It makes him feel whole again, full again, put back together with no cracks or missing pieces. It distracts him from how irrevocably shattered his insides truly are, providing him with quick, fleeting relief, just long enough for him to keep going, keep striving, keep breathing. But you wouldn’t understand any of that. How could you?

He’s sighing as he walks away from you, raking both hands through golden hair.

“You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t see what this shit is doing to you! It’s killing you, niisan!”

God, no, not the honorific. Not when you’re gazing at him with tears spilling from your eyes, little hands desperately pawing at his t-shirt, urgent just to make him understand, to get through to him for one instant.

“I-It’s killing you and all I can do is watch,” your voice fades into a whisper, breaking on the last word as more tears streak your cheeks, leaving small gleaming trails in their wake, fingers readjusting, knotting in his shirt and tugging, latching onto him as he keeps walking, jaw clenching again as he tries to ignore you. “Y-You have to stop—no, no, n-not stop, just—just slow down, yeah? Slow down a little, it’s—it’s too fast, niisan, you’re going too fast—”

But it’s building, and building, and his head is throbbing, and throbbing, and your voice is rising higher and higher, louder and louder, and it’s all just too much, and before he even knows what’s happening, his hand is cutting through the air, knuckles colliding with your cheek so hard it sends you stumbling backwards, tripping over your own feet as you fall on your ass.

He regrets it the moment it happens, the very moment his skin makes contact with yours.

But that doesn’t matter; the damage is already done.

He’s never hit you before. Sure, he may be a little rough sometimes, and his grip may leave a few bruises every once in a while, but he has never deliberately hit you, until today.

He never thought he would.

Golden eyes dart from his hand, still raised in the air from where it struck you, blood gleaming on his silver rings, to your face, small and terrified, crimson flowing down your cheek, mixing with your tears as it slowly drips off your jaw, and then back to his hand.

And for a moment, he swears, the whole world stops.

Then, a mere second later, his whole world shatters.

You’re trying to form words, staring up at him with impossibly wide, unblinking eyes, but they’re just escaping your lips in little mumbles, half-formed and coated in spit.

His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, nothing more than a pitiful huff of air formed in the shape of a curse leaving his lips.

It takes your mind a moment to register what’s happened, numb with dizzying shock, stupid with the most heartbreaking pain, dazed as tiny, trembling fingers raise to tenderly prod at the wound, wincing the moment they make contact. But the throbbing of your cheek brings you back quicker than Keigo would’ve liked, and then your eyebrows are knitting together, mouth settling in a wobbly line, blinking hard to clear your eyes of pesky tears.

And all he can do is watch, watch as you shakily push yourself to your feet, watch as your hand grips your phone like it’s a fucking lifeline—a lifeline he very briefly thinks about diving forward and snatching out of your grasp—watch as you turn on the balls of your feet and disappear down the hall, the slam of your bedroom door echoing a moment later.  

You barely make it into your bedroom before your collapsing on the floor, wheezing out uneven breaths, sharp, hard huffs of air that slice through your tight chest with each exhale, vision blurry with stinging tears as you stare down at your phone, cradled in quivering hands.

You know that if you make this phone call, Dabi will never let you come back. You know that if you make this phone call, this is it. Trembling fingers hesitate over his name, those four glowing letters staring back at you, an unnecessary amount of various heart emojis cushioning them.

He doesn’t pick up the first time. Maybe it’s a sign, you think to yourself, a sign that you shouldn’t leave just yet, that you should stay and rot away with him for a little bit longer, remain with him for a little more and give him another piece of your soul that he can add to his prized collection as he slowly steals your life force from you.

But then searing pain radiates through your entire face, along your jaw and to the back of your head, and the coppery smell of blood stings your nose, and you press on Dabi’s name again.

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

If he’s being honest, he would’ve never picked up for anyone but you, probably would’ve killed the idiot that thought to interrupt him during one of the biggest deals of his career—of his life.

“What?” he snarls as he answers, pacing along the wall outside the warehouse like a rabid dog, anxious and eager. “This better be important, sweetheart. You knew I was meeting with one of the bosses today—”

“He hit me,”

It’s hard to understand you when you’re still sobbing, words all wet and garbled, and Dabi squints as he focuses his concentration, feet skidding to a stop as his heart begins to pound.

“What?”

“He hit me. Nii—Keigo hit me,”

And then, his blood runs cold. His ears are ringing, vision fading in and out of focus as red tinges the edges, breathing beginning to accelerate, exhaled harshly through flared nostrils. The thin skin stretched taut across his bony knuckles has turned white as he grips his phone so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand.

“Pack your shit,” he tells you, voice oddly calm, cold and sterile and sending shivers skittering up your spine. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,”

[lilacmooon]

Angstpril 2022 - Day 2: Can't Go Home

It was the middle of summer, but Lin felt so cold as she stood on Kyoshi Bridge, overlooking the placid waters of Yue Bay. Mist hung heavily in the air -- punctuated by the glittering lights of the city at dusk. It was a dull and gray sort of twilight tonight. Almost as if the Republic itself knew that one of its founders was now gone.

Unsure of what to do with herself, Lin walked the outskirts of the city aimlessly. In a complete and total daze. Her mother and Suki were working tirelessly, trying to find the people responsible. Toph hadn't been home in nearly two days. The sudden death of Sokka had rocked them all. Other than taking care of her little sister, Suyin, Lin was at a total loss of how to help. Tonight, after she had put Su to bed, Lin had went out for a walk, desperate to try and clear her head. Now, she found herself down at the docks, the ferry to Air Temple Island long gone for the night.

Their monthly family dinner was supposed to have been today, she suddenly realized. It would have been her Aunt Suki's turn to cook. Her Uncle Sokka, most likely, would have been organizing his usual old covert operation of stealing extra dumplings with Kya and Lin. Like he had since they were children. They had always been their favorites and Suki made them best. Lin felt a small smile tug at her mouth at the memory but then a tear fell down, rolling over her lips, breaking the once easy motion.

Part of her wanted desperately to travel over to the island, like she normally would, to see the others. Check on them? Offer her comfort or condolences? But she felt rooted in place. More than anything she wished she was old enough to be on the force already. So she could help her mother find who did this to her uncle instead. There was so much rage and restlessness burning intensely, just under her skin. It was impossible for her to concentrate on anything else. She was going utterly insane, trapped in this sickening, agonizing stillness. More tears sprung to her eyes, her face growing hot, as she flailed with the internal frustration. Paralyzed with indecision and grief, her chest tightened painfully and her breaths huffed out wildly as she tried frantically to compose herself.

"Lin?"

The sound of her name came broken and weak through the haze of the summer fog and the pounding of her blood in her ears. She turned around to find Kya standing there, tears streaking her own face too.

"What are you doing out here, Linny?" Kya asked, her voice shaky and thick. Lin's heart clenched as she watched her swipe at her face, trying feebly to dry it. "Are you alright?"

Was she serious? She was asking Lin if she was okay right now? What about her? When Kya reached out to her gently, concern splashed across her face, Lin surged forward, wrapping her up in her arms. She tangled her fingers in her thick, long brown hair. Buried her face into the warmth of her neck. Kya's heart fell even further when she felt the wetness of her friend's tears on her skin. The subtle, ever-controlled shake of her body so close to hers. And she broke.

"It's horrible at the temple, Lin. My mom...I've never seen her like this before. My dad is trying his best to be there for her but..."

"Kya." Lin choked back her own emotions as she held her friend while she started to cry quietly. She pressed her lips to her temple, squeezing her eyes shut tightly against the tears. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't know what's worse. The anguished sobbing or the silences between." Kya whispered shakily. Her hands grasped, firm and urgent at Lin's back, gripping at the fabric of her shirt. "I can't go home. I can't be there anymore. Not right now. I had to leave but I have nowhere to go. Please, Lin."

"It's okay." Lin soothed her, stroking her hair and taking her hand in hers, sealing their intertwined fingers between them as they embraced. "I've got you."

They walked back through the city together, taking their time. It was as if they both could sense what the other needed in that moment. The same thing they had both sought out tonight. Fresh air, the humming noises of a sleepy city, and the comforting isolation of a foggy and humid summer night, pressing in around them.

It was late when they made it back to the Beifong apartment. Lin led Kya silently to her bedroom, weary and forlorn. An unexpected part of her was grateful not to be alone. They changed out of their city clothes, Lin lending Kya something of hers to sleep in. As Kya dressed, Lin pushed down the covers of her bed and opened her window to let in the cool night air. She laid down, tucking Kya easily into the curve of her body when she joined her. Kya let herself soften, soothed by the feather light threading of Lin's fingers through her hair. And the rhythm of her breaths against the crown of her head, lulling her to sleep.

Nothing, not for a long time, would ever ease this pain they harbored, poignant in their hearts. For now, though, it was enough just to allow themselves to hold this grief together.

[spice-chan]

Massage me down there

 husband!yandere!bakugou x reader

 When your husband gets upset at the lack of attention you were giving him, you make it up to him by giving him the best massage of his life. 

wordcount- 5 k 

warnings : sub baku, slightly yandere tendencies, yandere baku ( its all fluffy af tho), nsfw, blowjob, eating out, sex. 

for mature viewers only. 

first smut so pls be gentle. tumblr was such a bitch and wouldn't let me post this but here we are. 

…...…......………...…...….

Bakugou walked in, his muscles and arms aching from a long day of hero work. He twisted the key and turned the doorknob, opening the door to be assaulted by the familiar warm scent of home.

You used some air fresheners that made sure the house always smelt welcoming pleasant. He wasn’t sure what scent, but he knows the smell well enough.

He took his shoes off, irked that you didn’t come to welcome him like you usually would.  His bad mood seeped out into his face, translating into a well known scowl on his handsome features. 

A tick appeared on his forehead when he heard the tv.

‘What the fuck, or who the fuck, had your attention?’

He took his shoes off and changed out of his hero suit, putting his gauntlets aside and somewhere safe. He doesn’t want those near you.

He showered quickly and wore some shorts, leaving his hair to air dry opting to go shirtless, leaving his toned and muscled packs out on display. He was still warm from his shower, and his flushed and damp appearance was sure to re-catch your attention.

He left the shared room and walked into the leaving room, nearly steaming again when he wasn’t acknowledged and looking into the TV, expecting something equally infuriating, but only finding some furry movie. He tsk, although relieved it wasn’t some pesky actor stealing your attention.

He took in your appearance, finding that you looked gorgeous in some oversized shirt of his and some baggy, grey shorts, which left most of your legs teasingly out. He would have jumped you, but quickly remembered why he couldn’t to begin with.

You looked so sweet sitting there in some oversized shirt watching a cartoon movie tho-

No. He was mad at you.

He flopped down on the couch, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at you grumpily. You jumped up in surprise the moment the couch dipped, looking next to you frantically only to see your husband sitting at the opposite end of the couch.

Your face brightened into a happy smile, quickly sliding to him and enveloping his steam warm body in a hug. You slid on his lap, trying to kiss him on the lips, which failed when he turned his head, ending up as a mere peck.

You frowned at that, but it hurt Katsuki more than it hurt you. His heart felt heavy, having to reject one of your kisses, but it was for the better good.

You put your head on his chest, appreciatiating the firm and sculpted feel of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got home ? I didn’t hear you at all !” You exclaimed with a frown. Sad at missing your opportunity of kissing him at the door like your ritual usually went. Is that why he seemed to be in a mood ?

Bakugo scoffed, resisting the urge to put his hands on you.” You would’ve if you weren’t so distracted with some-some furry movie !” He yelled way to loudly, but you knew he wasn’t really angry, at least not mad angry. He’s just sulking. You didn’t know, but when you didn’t even acknowledge him slightly while he got home and showered some spark of possessiveness went off. The familiar feeling of being threatened wasn’t that far after all.

But the sound of the main character interacting with the fox made your ears perk. Since Katsuki is upset right now, he can wait a bit more.

You easily escaped his grasp since Bakugo opted to not touch you.

You settled near him, not as far, but not as close as before. Bakugo felt your warmth leave, and it felt like the heat from his very own body was sapped.

His grumpy pout turned to a sad, dejected one, and his eyes slowly lost his hardness as he looked at your distracted form beside him.

Anger slowly started brewing inside him again, tears springing to the corner of his eyes due to the overwhelming rage brewing in his chest.

‘How dare you ignore him like this ? Especially when he was upset at you. If you were upset at him Bakugo would coddle you until you relented. Fine, ignore him.’

Your attention snapped when you felt Katsuki get up from the couch, watching his figure stomp away to the room. You cringed when you heard the door bang.

You saw the movie had a few minutes left, and debated whether you should go to Katsuki or finish it first. This might take a while, so movie first it is.

Right as the movie was about to finish, you heated up some oils, having thought of the perfect bribery plan. Bakugou hates it when you don’t pay attention to him or dismiss him, and you wouldn’t have, but the movie was so engaging and you wanted to watch it for a long time !

You quickly put the oils in a tray and carried it back to your room. You balanced the tray in one hand while your other turned the doorknob, walking inside the bedroom to find Katsuki laying on his side on the bed on his belly.

You walked to him, putting the oils on the running heater one by one to make sure they remain warm to ensure Katsuki can enjoy this as much as possible.

Katsuki looked up slowly, not wanting to show his interest in what you brought with you, but intrigue got the best of him when he smelt natural scents near him. He quickly turned his face away when he saw you walk to him. You crouched down besides him, making him smell your perfume, and want to look at your adorable face, grab -

“Suki, you’re mad at me right ?” You asked softly, trying to set the mood while your hand tangled in his untamable spikes.

Katsuki wanted to shout, to push your hand away and melt in his own pettiness, but he couldn’t help the tiny rush of ecstasy as your small hand slowly caressed his roots, the true euphoria being that you came to make up with him. You must love him after all then ?

“Tsk, go back to your shitty movie.” He grumbled, his lips set in a pout as he lifted his face to glare at you.

You tried kissing him before he turned around again, but he predicted her actions and turned around before the kiss reached it’s destination. He quickly regretted his decision becasue after you ended up kissing his cheek again, he really craved to have your luscious lips make contact with his…

He must stay strong. He already saw the oils, and had a half mind to reject your offer, but he was scared you really will take his word for it.

“What’s with the oils ?” He questioned gruffly, slightly muffled by the pillows.

You beamed, ripping the blanket off his body, which he seemed to cocoon himself in, and made yourself comfortable beside him.

“I’m giving you a full body massage, head to toe ! My hero must be sore from working hard all day.” You said adoringly, despite Bakugo thinking he’s the coddler in the relationship, you loved doting on him too, and bought all of this to use on him.

Katsuki was going to make some snarky remark, but your soothing hands on his scalp made him clamp shut. Your rhythmic motions and soft touches made Bakugou sigh, her fingers playing with his hair gently with the room dimly lit made him relax and his heart beat slowed as his eyelids drooped in lethargy. Your fingers didn’t leave one root on his head untouched. You grinned in victory seeing your adorable husband about to fall asleep and you barely even started.

The true comfort to Katsuki came in knowing that Bakugou had your full attention. But his half lidded eyes sprung open when he felt your hands leave his spiky blond hair. He was about to grab your hand to pull you back to him when he noticed you walk towards the oils, grabbing them and placing them on the lamp stand besides the bed so you can easily reach them without moving.

You settled yourself back on the bed, this time on Katsuki’s toned and perky ass.

Bakugo blushed, never too used to you being like this with him despite you guys being married and all that, it still feels as if you guys never even held hands before. At least to him. 

You reached out, grabbing one of the oils and pouring a generous amount on your palms, then rubbing them together. You put your hands on his shoulders and started to gently work on the knots, and Katsuki swears heaven is in your hands. He feels the heavy weight that every hero carries slowly melt away, the tenseness slowly dissipating as your hands continued massaging with the aid of the oil.

“How does it feel ?” You asked in a low, whispering voice. Katsuki could’ve missed it had it not being your voice.

He grunted, and you took it as a good enough response to keep working as you had been. Katsuki was so relaxed, he was becoming sleepy with the aid of the ambient light of the lamp, and your soothing touches stimulating his tactile senses. The only comforting touch he felt all day.

You felt that his shoulders were mellow enough, deciding to move on to his back. You grabbed another oil and spread a more generous amount this time, rubbing it between your palms. The warmth must’ve been really pleasant on his exhausted body, because his breath hitched not a second after your hands made contact with his back. You’re honestly a novice at this, having watched a few seconds of a massage video then gave up a few seconds in, but you guessed you were doing something right if the hitches of his breath were any proof.

You continued kneading at his back, admiring the scrumptious view of his muscular back beneath your fingers. Katsuki was lucky his face was not in your direction, or you would have seen the redness of his cheeks and ears, and the suggestive nature of his open mouth, which let out inaudible sounds every time you worked out a knot. His eyes were lidded, brighter than usual that the volcanic red of his eyes looked like harmless cherries.

Embarrassingly though, every knead you made caused his body to experience a sort of relaxed pleasure, the feel of your soft hands gently caressing his skin is bringing back memories……

He would never allow anyone else but you to touch him like this, just like he wouldn’t allow you to touch anyone else like that, or touch period. Just the thought made his brows furrow in annoyance until a moan came out when you touched a particularly sore spot. You paused for a second, having not expected that reaction. You went back to the same spot and got rewarded when his breath hitched.

Eventually, his back went like it was made anew, and you probably shared the sentiment because you whispered in his ear to turn around, afraid of disturbing him as he remained silent for so long. He could have fallen asleep, and he might’ve, your relaxing touch and dim lights where really helping.

However, he wanted more of this, so he pushed the drowsiness away and turned around for you. He thought you would wrap it up after doing his back, shoulders, and even his head, but was pleasantly surprised. That’s his darling, always going the extra mile for him. Little things like that remind him exactly why he adores you.

To be fair, he stopped being mad five minutes into the massage, if, however, it still gets you to dot on him then he will keep his mouth shut, but he still appreciates that you are doing this for him, considering how much carrying gauntlets and heroing all day tires him.

After choosing the oil, Bakugou half thought that you were going to resume your previous seating place, this time on his crotch. He was pleasantly surprised to be right. Katsuki blushed and turned around, huffing, knowing you can feel his semi erection. By the smirk you shot him, you were very aware.

Katsuki held his breath in, knowing the slightest movement of your hips will cause him to let out a titillating sound.

“Where do you think you’re sitting dumbass ?” He groaned out. You quirked an eyebrow, smirking downright sinfully.

“Your body doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.” You observed.

Halfway into worshipping the firm dips of his pectorals, you paused your ministrations, drawing the- once again- attention of a drowsy Katsuki.

You fanned yourself, and much to your husbands chagrin, took the oversized shirt off. Leaving you in your pretty, black  bralette which emphasized your bust. Katsuki gulped.

After catching Katsuki’s wondering eyes, you shot him a flirty smile. Your hands resumed their ministrations, but slowly traveled up to Katsuki’s chest, kneading at first, but then seized all movements, only to start softly caressing his milky neck.

You slowly lowered you upper body, making contact with Katsuki’s oiled front. He couldn’t keep his wondering eyes from admiring the exposed cleavage teasing his vision. You caught his stare, and leisurely unhooked it, sliding the straps off, one, and then the other, shrugging it off completely, making your soft tits touch his stomach. His hands itched to grab them, but your own left his neck and held his hands in place over his head. You moved until your mouth was near his ears, the movement reminded Bakugo of the slithering of a graceful and dangerous viper.

“Did you enjoy that baby ?” You whispered, voice no louder or lower than the one you used throughout the whole session, but somehow, with your soft chest touching his, hands holding his own in place and voice whispering in his ear, Katsuki’s blood rushed south.

He swallowed, having a theory that the blood in his brain must have gone down, because he felt way dumber than usual.

He nodded his head.

“Are you still mad at me honey ?” Whispered your honeyed voice.

“No.” Replied Katsuki, taking his upper lip between his teeth in frustration at the affect you have on him.

His cheeks flushed even more when you started nibbling at his earlobe, the sound way too close to his hearing range for comfort.

He really resembled that love sick look.

“Will you let me kiss you now Suki ?” You asked your final question, hands leaving his, granting him leeway to explore and move them as he pleases while your hands found their way back to his hair. Katsuki answered your question by pulling you closer and softly kissing your lips, his desires having finally been answered. He kept the kiss from getting aggressive, not wanting to destroy the mood, but the tantalising kiss was quickly becoming not enough. He desired all of you, he wanted your thoughts to be wholeheartedly consumed by him. His beefy hand tangled itself in your hair, biting your bottom lip and sucking it in order to deepen your kiss, but you had other ideas.

“Suki, can you put your tongue out for me ?” You asked innocently, Katsuki hesitated for a moment, confused as you’d never made a request like that before. He slowly stuck his pink muscle out.

You wasted no time, gently sucking it, grazing it with your teeth to add a bit of stimulation.

You didn’t prolong his pleasure however.

“I still have to finish your massage, sweetie. Lay back down and relax.” You whispered in a doting tone, gently pushing his chest flat into the bed. Katsuki widened his eyes, unable to believe you’d do that to him.

You’re really going to do this to him ? While you were shirtless too ?

His cock pulsated painfully, his hardness left untouched. You moved on to his arms, paying special attention to his aching wrists. This would have the epitome of comfort had he not had an erection, with you shirtless, nipples out and daring him to pinch, your hands softly oiling his body and rejuvinating him. He thanks his overwhelming self control, overwhelming though it may be, the impenetrable iron clad self control crumples and mellows like marshmallow around you.

To his dismay, yet utter relief, you took your time, knowing his hands are crucial for his quirk. After finishing up with his arm, you took his hand, his large, beefy one dwarfing your own. Jesus, even his fingers were thick.

You brought his hand closer to your mouth, and Katsuki thought you were going to take a finger in your mouth. Instead, you gave the webbed area at the base of his finger a tentative lick. Knowing this is the most sensitive part of his calloused hand. His erection strained against his shorts with renewed vigour. He bit his lip in order to follow your command and stay laid back, but God knows he wanted to push you back and ram into you. He felt more than saw when your naughty tongue stopped licking that area and traveled up to suck the tip of his finger. You licked it slowly, then took it in your mouth, sucking on it like you would something else.

Katsuki squeezed his thighs together desperately, unable to handle not getting friction. His other hand went palm his hard on, but you slapped that hand when it twitched to move, knowing you won’t like its destination. You bit his finger in a silent warning. Katsuki knew he couldn’t disobey a request of yours, no matter how hard or simple, so he fisted his hand to maintain his sanity while you deepthroated his finger. Braless.

You took his finger out of your mouth. It was slicken and glistening. Katsuki’s boxers were dampened.

Katsuki starred in utter horror as you moved on to the other arm, and nearly growled in frustration.

He couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Stop teasing me !” He shouted, the loudest noise that had been made since you entered the room.

You looked at him, mock obliviousness on your face.

You begun to massage the new arm, giving him an inquisitive look.

“Teasing you ? What are you talking about Suki ? I’m just trying to make you feel good.” You justified.

“Baka, massage me where I really want to be massaged.” He demanded. You put a finger on his lip. “Suki, don’t talk that loudly, you’ll destroy the mood. And tell me where you want me to massage honey, use your words. This is all about you remember?” You guessed it’s been enough teasing. Halfway through, you noticed the impending arousal Katsuki was experiencing, and decided this could take a turn in the other direction. He looked at you in hope, but clamped his mouth shut when he realized he’d have to ask you it.

“You know… baka.” He answered childishly, looking away.

“Of course, your arms really hurt don't they ? No worries.” You whispered, already grabbing the oils before Katsuki’s frustrated voice rung out.

“Please no, touch me… down there. Right now. You knew there would be consequences to touching me like that and looking like this” He finally relented. You o’d, nodding and caressing his hair, silently proud at him for saying what he really wanted. You relishes in the embarrassment blooming on his face, an adorable cherry red.

“Haha, you should have just said so from the start.” You scolded.

“I’ll start by massaging your legs then.”

Katsuki nearly growled in frustration. You weren’t going to do this to him right. You read that look on his face.

“Is that not what you want ? You said down there.”

He sucked in a breath. He gripped the sheets beneath his hand so tightly, his knuckles tirned white.

“Fine ! You want me to say it, I will. Massage…my cock. Spread oils all over it and touch it with your pretty hands and suck it like you did to my finger.” He retold all his fantasies, baring his soul out into the open. He craves you all the time, you just made his craving so much worse. Depriving him of your attention, then suddenly giving him an abundance of it but not giving him what he truly wants .

His heart fell when he saw the troubled look on your face. “Suki, you have to be patient. Then I promise you’ll get what you want.” Although you put up a front, you were aching for him, your underwear was damp no doubt.

You stood up, ignoring the frustrated look on his face. he is going to be patient  because you knew he wouldn’t ignore something you said. He never does, especially when he’s in this headspace. You took the blanket off his lower body. You slowly pulled his shorts off, amused by the wet patch you saw. Now his perky ass was clad in only some black boxer. You could see the straining erection, his underwear struggling to contain it, already dampened with the evidence of his arousal.

You debated for only a second.

You grabbed the waistband, Katsuki understanding the hint and lifting himself up slightly so you could take the material off. His enormous cock sprung out, the head an angry purple colour from the lack of attention. It was thick and girthy, and the length was nothing to laugh about either. It was a bit like Katsuki to be honest. Muscular and enormous. You loved how his masculine and sculpted figure fit in yours. It felt like he could protect you from the world.

You grabbed an oil, rubbing it in your palms before you began rubbing it on his thighs. Not before pressing a soft kiss on them and taking an adorable little bite. You massaged them both, careful not to touch where Katsuki desperately wanted you to touch. “Be patient Katsuki” you reminded him as you continued kneading his sculpted cream coloured thighs. Sometimes you’d get dangerously close to his centre, but not quite enough that Katsuki could experience the blessing of your touch. Enough was enough, however.

Katsuki breathed a sigh of relief when you stopped.

Katsuki’s body felt renewed, all his knots having been achingly soothed, his body smelt of fresh herbs and oils that left him smelling amazing, but the only oil he really craved was out of his reach at the moment. Not for long though.

You stood up from the bed and headed to one of your cupboards, already knowing none of those oils were tailored for that kind of use.

You went through the impressive amounts of flavoured lubes, then deciding on a water based watermelon one. Choosing was a struggle, knowing that your husband only bought you the best of the best.

You returned to an unmoved Katsuki, waving the lube at him in a goofy way. Shit, you were perfect, Katsuki will kill anyone that says you like this. Goods jiggling freely and showing the lube you were going to taste while sucking his cock.

You sat on the bed, spreading his legs to allow you to comfortably settle between them.

Fuck yes. Yes. Yes . “Yes”.

You took your own shorts off, leaving you in a delicious orange thong that did nothing to cover your delectable ass. The only thing keeping you from becoming fully naked.

You applied the lube on your hands, careful from putting too much.

Katsuki groaned audibly when your hands touched his cock, rubbing the tip, which was a painful purple colour, and then dipping your hands down. You pumped him, making sure not to go too fast, and applying special attention to all his sensitive spots. You squeezed his balls gently, then licked his tip, using the soft lower part of your tongue to stimulate him, then suddenly switching to the rougher part.

“Ah- ah- baby, where did you - you learn to do that ?!” Katsuki knew he wasn’t going to last long with your body out on display to him, and your mouth softly teasing him. You opened your mouth, taking him in one inch at a time. You hollow your cheeks, hearing a broken moan from Katsuki, followed by a groan as you bobbed your head up and down. You kept using your tongue and hands, not leaving any part of him untouched.

Katsuki felt like he was in heaven. Your naughty tongue did wonders on all his sensitive spots, humming every now and then, you must have liked the taste. You bobbed your head faster, Katsuki had to contain himself from face fucking you without care. Drool dripped down your chin and your hair was a mess, fuck, you were absolutely gorgeous.

The final push was seeing one of your hands leave his cock make its way to your underwear, sliding the pesky things down slowly, giving Katsuki a show. You were absolutely drenched.

You moaned around his length as you started to work on your clit. Then your fingers slipped inside you seamlessly,making erotic squelching sounds that he knows all too well and next thing Katsuki was crying out.

“Fuck, princess- I’m coming- ah, coming.” You bobbed your head with new found vigour, sucking and squeezing even when you felt his warm cream gush into your mouth.

“Teddy bear —“ he groaned, stopping mid sentence to let out the loudest moan moan you ever heard, with flushed cheeks, mouth ajar and watery cherry eyes. Henever took his eyes off you, drinking in the sight of you enthusiastically drinking his cum, not wanting to waste a single drop. You kept going, even when your eyes watered and your throat burned. You put both hands on his thighs to steady yourself, keeping your working mouth on his cock as you drank and drank. After it seemed like that was all, you took your mouth off and started giving licks all over his painfully sensitive cock, cleaning it of any remains. He tried complaining but you didn’t stop until the last drop was licked.

“How was that massage baby ?”

Katsuki was too busy catching breath to answer, but maybe that was all the answer you needed.

He wants to please you now, to satisfy you like you satisfied him.

One look at your naked body had his now flaccid cock springing back to life.

“I loved it babe, but now it’s your turn, c’mere.” He sprung up, grasping your legs and spreading them apart. He saw your thong between your knees, slipping it out slowly while laughing.

“Why wear this ? You might as well have been wearing nothing.” He mused, looking at the tiny orange thong.

“I wanted to seduce you, Suki.”

That made him ‘ah’, as he nodded amusedly. He threw it somewhere in the room, immensely glad that you wore it for him, for him, only him.

His tongue grazed your slit, not entering you. He wrapped his mouth around your clit and sucked. You fisted the sheets as the breath got knocked out of you. He ate you out vigorously,not giving you a moment to breath. His fingers rubbed your slit, teasing you while his mouth devoured you. Suddenly, his mouth traveled down to your slit, and his fingers went to rub your clit. He lapped up at the wetness, loving the taste of you. His hand left you to grab your leg and put it over his muscled shoulder for better access.

He met your eyes, giving you an arrogant smirk as his tongue teased you relentlessly, traveling up and down, circling your clit, but never quite wrapping around it and sucking like before.

“Suki, please, make me feel good.” You begged with tears in your eyes. Even though Katsuki wanted to tease you more, he couldn’t.

In no time, your thighs were shaking as the knot in your belly was threatening to burst.

“Stop” that one sentence had Katsuki detaching from your clit, looking troubled. A familiar insecure look.

Did he fail to make you feel good ? What did he do wrong ?

“What ?” He asked, wiping your love juices off his chin.

“I want to do it together this time Suki. It was too good, I couldn’t have lasted anymore if I didn’t stop you when I did.” You reassured him, watching the insecure look on his face vanish. Before, when you and Katsuki were merely dating, you were surprised by the way he behaved around you, but now, you were used to it- dare you say, you loved the way he values your words and attention. He made you feel like a queen, even though others would claim that time of love is overwhelming and suffocating.

He cradled you gently, kissing your head. What an adorable request, well, he couldn’t disappoint you now could he ?

He laid your head on the pillow, putting both of your legs over his shoulders letting you give his semi hardened length a few pumps. You were both lubed and ready enough, but Katsuki still took his time in entering you, not wanting to hurt you, he knew he wasn’t small by any means, not even close.

He loved positions like this, where he could look at your face and see how you were feeling. He was fully in you, and he could see that it wasn’t the most comfortable thing for you, so his thrusts were gentle at first. Soon, after he heard you become breathless and clenching around him, he started to become rougher, slamming into your G-spot.

You were so warm, and tight….

He pistoned into your welcoming honeypot. “Does it -ah—feel good ?” He asked, slowing down slightly so you could answer him.

“Yes Suki, don’t slow down ! Please rub my clit” you said guiding his hand where you wanted it and he obliged. He kept thrusting at his usual fast pace, your tits vibrate with every thrust, prompting him to finally pinch one. He rubbed your clit too, feeling you clench around him.

This is where he wanted to be all day, connected with his darling, making the both of you feel good.

He angled his thrusts to hit your G-spot, making your pleasure overwhelming, which naturally translated to his. His muscles contorted as he gave one final, powerful thrust, coming undone inside your warm centre. He kept stimulating you, and it didn’t take you long to join him in bless, milking him as you let out a sinful moan, pulling him closer to you, seeking his warmth amids being in the clouds. He kept riding you through your orgasm, eventually his thrusts becoming nothing more than shallow.

He felt satisfied beyond measure, slowly taking his cock out and seeing his semen leak. Be bent down, kissing you gently on the lips. “Did it feel good?” He asked, wanting reassurance that he did well. He did this every time despite it being more than obvious he did amazing.

“Amazing, did you like your massage though?” You questioned, making him scoff at your idiotic question.

“Damn right, best massage ever.”

He then cleaned you up, then with your bare bodies cuddling, you fell in deep sleep.

“I love you.” He whispered to your snoozing head on his naked chest.

“More than anything.” 

……….

Kofi

[passable-talent]

Hey please continue your Zuko fic as soon as possible! I love it so much!

oh I’m so surprised I got this request within hours of posting part 3 👀👀

agsbfjcjs I tease I’m loving this series too

well everyone, here we are again

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 |

“Who’s Mai?”

Zuko’s eyebrows moved a bit in confusion before it registered that you might’ve been asleep, that night, when he told you of his old girlfriend. And even then, he hadn’t mentioned her name. Slowly his hands pulled from where they had kept gentle grip on your biceps.

“I, uh,” he stuttered, “let’s find somewhere to talk.” You let him lead you into a room in the temple up toward the top of the cliff, far away from the rest of the team, and even Haru or the Duke weren’t likely to come up here.

Uneasy, you settled down against the wall, one leg extended in front of you and the other bent, it’s foot flat on the ground. You did your best to feel for Zuko’s heartbeat, like Toph could, to determine sincerity. You couldn’t sense it well enough yet, having barely gotten a grasp on seismic sense in the first place, and let your knee fall to the side.

“So who’s Mai?” You asked again as he sat down against a wall adjacent to yours. Not too close, but not too far away.

“An old girlfriend I had before I was banished. We spent some time together when I returned to the Fire Nation, but... it didn’t feel right. I’m not the same as I was before I was banished.” Any number of snarky replies came into your mind, but you didn’t respond, merely waiting for him to continue.

“Well, Sokka and I, we went to the Boiling Rock, a high profile prison in the Fire Nation. We were trying to pass as guards, but I got found out, and kept as prisoner.” You leaned forward with concern, for a moment forgetting the point of the conversation as you worried for him.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, nothing happened,” Zuko said, tossing his head to the side in a bit of guilt. “But the warden... the warden was her uncle, and she came in to see me.” You raised an eyebrow, leaned back to press your spine to the wall, interested in where this would go.

“I had written her a letter, before I left, and it wasn’t a very good one. I hadn’t known what to say. She was pissed, and threw it at me, and scolded me, and...” he shook his head, and looked down at his feet.

“It wasn’t good.” At this point, you began to wonder why he was telling you all of this. As much as you were more likely to air on the side of finding fault in his actions, it seemed to you like nothing had happened. There was nothing for you to be angry about- he hadn’t had some tearful declaration of love or anything, so what was the issue?

“I locked her in my cell to get away so that Sokka and I could escape with Hakoda and Suki. I feel kinda bad about that, but she got out, so whatever.” You tilted your head, not giving him the luxury of avoiding eye contact. You weren’t quite glaring, but you did find yourself trying to intimidate as best you could.

It was a good wall to build around you.

“And I feel so confused,” he said, closing his eyes and clenching his fists, “because I don’t understand. I wasn’t a good boyfriend even when we were ‘together’ earlier in the summer, and I wrote her a bad letter, and I left, and I locked her in a cell, and she still helped me escape. She stood up against Azula to help me escape.” This caught your attention, as you knew the guts it would’ve taken to stand up to the psychopathic princess. It was a sacrifice- it would’ve made her just as much an enemy to the Fire Nation as Zuko.

“I just don’t get it,” he said again, and you looked away from him.

“Ever considered that you’re sometimes a pretty good guy and that people care about you?” You said, without pausing on any particular word because you wanted to get the statement done and over with quickly. With your foot pressed to the floor you could sense through seismics the way his head jerked up to look at you, even if you didn’t look at him.

“You think so?” He asked, and a quick laugh made your chest jump once.

“Sometimes,” you said, turning your gaze back to him. “Was this all you wanted to talk to me about? Figure out why she would do that for you?”

“Well, that, and...” he pushed a few strands of hair from his face in nervousness. “I just wanted to be honest with you. When we met, I- I did nothing but lie, and I don’t want to lie to you ever again. I want you to know everything. Including the awkward moment I had with my ex-girlfriend.” Slowly a plan formed in your mind, and you narrowed your eyes in focus.

“Why does what you do with ex-girlfriends concern me?” You asked, and his eyes met yours, slight confusion in his expression. He swallowed, working out your meaning. This was his opportunity- would he say he cared about you? That he loved you? That he wanted you to not be jealous because his heart now belonged with you?

“You know why,” he said after a moment’s pause, eyes still locked on yours and voice low. A small smirk came to your face.

“I’m afraid I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Y/N,” he said quickly, voice almost firm. He paused to gather his courage and knotted his fingers into the fabric of his pants. “I care about you. And I wanted you to know that you don’t need to worry about Mai.” He paused a moment longer, finally breaking eye contact, which was a great relief to you.

“And even I know you don’t feel the same right now, but I know you did once, and I’m trying to earn that back again.” You swallowed hard, your gaze on the side of his face now that he’d turned it from you. With a split second decision you scooted closer, sitting beside him, and leaning your shoulder against his. You had to make moves like this, and the hug from before he had left, because if you didn’t, you’d never learn to. You were reaching out of your comfort zone, slowly, just like he was.

“I can’t trust you,” you whispered, feeling as though the two of you would break apart and scatter if either spoke too loud. “Not yet.”

“I know,” he said back, the badger frogs filling the silence between the two of you.

“But I’m getting there,” you said, resting your head onto his shoulder. “You’re earning it back, slowly.” He nodded, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. You let your eyes skip closed, and for a moment felt as though you could fall asleep, leaned against him like this.

This was how you had leaned on him when you were exhausted and on break from the Jasmine Dragons. You’d rest your feet and lean on him, and the two of you would talk until the break was over. It was so familiar, the sound of his breathing, the firmness of his muscle.

“You think you can ever trust me again?” Zuko asked, vulnerability in his voice, “After what I’ve done to you?”

“I think so,” you said, breathing softly. “I did once. And deep down, you’re that same guy. When you were in Ba Sing Se, you were guided by nothing but the kindness you were shown by your uncle. I’m not foolish- I know that Azula manipulated you. I know that, even though you aren’t the pure soul I thought at first, that you’re not the hunter that Katara thinks you are, either.” You changed your neck position, almost nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Give me time. Show me you can be someone I should trust.” You heard him nod, and your eyes drifted closed.

When on the edge of falling asleep, sounds change. They’re heard, but not processed, merely accepted as background noise in a world fading away. It was like this, halfway between sleep and wake, when nothing was processed nor even remembered, that you heard Zuko promise.

“I promise I’ll become a man you can let yourself love.”

request for a part 5

edit: part 5 has been multiple times requested it’s all good

edit: | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 |

-🦌 Roe

[aciid-eater]

“Trying it out” Katsuki Bakugou x reader smut/lemon.

Summary: Y/n gets Katsuki to try out wax for the first time.

Warning: Wax play, oral ( F relieving), slight bondage

There is not enough bnha wax smut

____________________________________

Y/n watched as her boyfriend struggled against the bright red ropes that binded his wrists to her headboard. She giggled from her spot at the edge of her bed, making him groan in frustration. Crawling across the bed, y/n plopped her ass onto his waist, giving his crotch the slightest brush.

“Ng- y/n I swear—“

“Calm down Suki.” She laughed, running her hands up and down his bare chest. Katsuki tugged at his ropes one last time, wanting plunge his fingers in her clothed heat. He flinched as her hands moved away from his torso, and his heart quickened when she lifted the bowl of wax on the heater from her bedside table.

“What’s the safe word babe?”

“Crayons.” He replied on auto pilot, watching her stir the bowl with a wooden stick.

“Good boy.”

Katsuki held his breath as the orange liquid dripped from the wooden utensil onto his toned chest. A long squeaky moan fell from his perfect lips as the wax pooled between his pecs. The wax wasn’t unbearably hot, just enough to send tingles down his spine.

“Ohh your dick just got so hard under me~” y/n chuckled, grinding down slightly.

“Shit y/n— baby~” His moans were steady as y/n pooled wax on his nipples.

“Fuck babe, I know you’re excited, but if you keep bucking your hips, I’m gonna fall off this bed.” Y/n moaned, her eyes rolling back as his length hit her clit through her thin underwear.

“You look so pretty like this~” y/n mumbled, dripping wax down the sides of his v line. Katsuki groaned arching his back. His eyes were lidded and his face was flushed as he glared at his girlfriend. His red eyes piercing into her own made wetness pool between her legs.

“And you sound so pretty... but we can stop if you want.” She smirked, placing the bowl back on the heater.

“Y/nnn “ he whined, bucking his hips under her.

“What’s wrong Suki?” She teased.

“You want me to keep going?”

Katsuki mumbled lowly, his face burning an even darker shade.

“What was that? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, y/n.” He growled, a little louder this time.

“Beg for it.” Katsuki rolled his eyes at those words. He hated begging, but seeing y/n so dominat made him harden painfully.

“Fuck! Y/n please keep going. Don’t stop baby girl please!” He whined, pulling at his ropes and thrashing. Y/n’s eyes rolled back, her heat clenching around nothing at his words. And the arousal that dripped down her inner thighs didn’t go unnoticed by the blonde.

“Good boy!” She praised, sliding her ass back onto his thighs so she could take at look at his member.

“Like what you see babygirl?” He smirked. Y/n chuckled, leaning over to grasp his chin softly.

“You’re a cocky little shit, huh? Open.” She demanded. Immediately Katsuki opened his mouth, letting y/n slide two fingers inside.

“Suck.” He quickly closed his lips around her fingers and sucking harshly. His hips bucked upwards as she popped her fingers out of his mouth. Then his mouth fell open with a long moan as her hand wrapped around his cock. Within a couple slow strokes, he was putty in her hands, his head leaning back and his eyes closed.

Katsuki’s eyes shot open and a uncharacteristically high pitched moan fell from his lips as y/n dropped warm wax down the underside of his cock.

“Fuck y/n right there!! Don’t fucking stop!!” His back arched as wax drizzled down his base and onto his balls. Y/n‘s arousal began dripping onto his thighs as his cock twitched against his stomach. Y/n trailed her hand down into her underwear as Katsuki spurted hot white liquid onto his chest and torso.

She flushed while watching her boyfriend come down from his high, now covered in wax and cum.

“You look like you enjoyed that, I barely had to touch you and you came so hard.” She chuckled, running her fingers over her clit.

“...Come sit on my face princess.” He growled, still panting. Y/n didn’t waste any time, pulling off her underwear and hovering her heat over his face.

“so fucking wet...” he mumbled before sucking her clit into his mouth. Y/n moaned, running her hands through his ash blonde hair. Katsuki nipped at her clit softly, smirking as she yelped.

“Sit all the way down.” He growled, moaning into her heat when she eased down on his face.

“Katsuki~” y/n grinded down onto his face, whining as his nose brushed her clit over and over when his tounge slid into her.

Katsuki knew just how to make her squirm against his mouth, it brought him pride everytime he made her cum. The slurping sounds in the room were vulgar, the blonde loosing himself in the way y/n tasted on his tounge.

“Cum for me, cum in my mouth princess.” His words were muffled against her slick but she still heard him perfectly. Tossing her head back, y/n finally let go, messily cuming all over his face.

After a few minutes, y/n slid off onto the bed beside the blonde, her heat still clenching around nothing. Then she reached out to run a finger over his chest, popping a finger covered in the sticky white liquid into her mouth.

“You need a shower.” She chucked. Katsuki raised an eyebrow, the lower half of his face sticky and wet.

“You think?”

[stitch1830]

@twinkle-toph I heard you wanted a bit of angst so here's what I found in my stockpile lol.

I wrote this with the idea in mind to eventually make romantic Tokka, but for now it's just platonic (also hopefully I have more ideas to get to romantic Tokka. Time will tell lmao).

......

She hadn’t left the bed since the services concluded, and they were only informed of the state of their friend through nannies that Poppy sent over. Apparently, Lin hadn’t stopped crying and Toph blocked out the world, unwilling to engage with anyone, including her daughter.

It hurt to hear this, but it wasn’t entirely surprising, either. After all, none of them knew how they themselves would have reacted to such a jarring change in their life.

Sokka paced her living room floor while the group decided to talk with Toph alone, one by one. He waited with everyone else while Katara attempted to coax Toph out of the bedroom. Aang sat in a lone chair, bouncing his leg incessantly and twiddling his thumbs. It was a rather odd sight to see Aang so jittery, but Sokka assumed it was because he wasn’t sure what to say.

Zuko sat on the couch upright and still, his eyes closed. Sokka could feel the Fire Lord trying to summon a reality—any reality—that was an ounce better than this one.

Suki sulked on the couch as well, resting an elbow on the arm and her head in her hand. Tears slowly made their way down his friend’s cheeks.

The turning of a doorknob had everyone jumping in their seats and staring at the doorway. Only Katara emerged, and she looked worse than when she entered the room.

It seemed that his sister’s attempts at comforting and helping Toph were futile.

And it went on like this with every member of the group. One of them would enter, prepared and determined to help Toph with their specific strategy, and they would always leave the room defeated. Even stranger, no one talked about what was said in the room.

One by one the group came and went into Toph’s room, until Sokka was the only one left. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing his intervention speech and determined to help his best friend through the hardest time of her life.

But the second he opened the door, his resolve cracked, and he wasn’t so sure he could help.

……

She lay down on the bed, clutching the side of the covers Kanto used. She felt and heard nothing in the bed they shared—used to share. All she did was replay the scene of the last time they woke up together. Over and over and over, hoping her will to change the scene would eventually become a reality…

His mocking gasp and his playful baby voice woke her. “What’s this? Mama’s almost up! Should we say hi? Huh? Say hi to Mama?”

Toph heard Lin giggle in agreement, and spirits, was it hard to keep still and not smile. But she did, and pretty soon Kanto had Lin hovering over Toph’s face close enough for her little arms to touch.

Unfortunately, Lin hadn’t quite yet grasped the concept of the gentle touch, for she slapped her mother square on the cheek. Toph groaned at the sharp disturbance while Lin and Kanto continued to laugh.

“Linny says good morning,” Kanto said.

“You need to teach her how to say it without slapping,” she complained lightly, turning in the bed so she was on her back.

“Why me?”

“Because she likes you more.”

“You have a point.”

Toph scoffed at Kanto and lightly slapped his forearm. “Jerk! You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“Hey! You know I was lying, what’s the big deal?” he asked playfully. Lin began to wiggle in his arms, and he gently placed her on Toph’s chest and in her arms. “Lin is very excited for her ladies day.”

“Why do you keep calling it that? The nanny is off today, that’s it.”

“Yes, and you get to spend the entire day with this little badgermole. I’m a little jealous.”

“Don’t be,” she reassured him. “All we’ll be doing is sitting together in silence. If anything, I’m jealous of you.” Toph turned to point a smirk in Kanto’s direction, and he grew quiet. An unusual deviance from the typical morning banter, and she wondered why.

She didn’t have to wait long to figure out what, however.

“Hey, Toph,” he began.

“Hey, Hotshot.”

“Have you ever thought about our future?” he asked.

“Like?”

“Like, what do you think our future holds, what it will be like…” his voice sounded as if he had more to say, but Kanto left the sentence lingering in the air, waiting to be answered.

Toph assumed it was an opening for more banter, so she responded with, “Our future holds coffee and baby spit up.” She kicked her feet over onto the floor and made her way to the kitchen with Lin in her arms, while Kanto quietly chuckled and followed slowly behind.

He asked about their future. Their future. Together. And it all hit her when she stood over his body at the morgue, clutching to the thin, metal ring she found in his pocket what he was asking earlier in the day.

Marriage. He was going to ask her to marry him.

And so she replayed that morning in her head over and over and over, fixing the memory to make it what it was supposed to be…

“What are you asking, Kanto?” she asked, sitting upright in the bed with Lin still in her arms.

“I’m wondering if you’d… um…”

Toph smirked at his erratic heart rate. It wasn’t easy to detect in the soft bed, but his heart was beating out of his chest that Toph could practically hear it.

“Croco-cat got your tongue?” she teased, Lin giggled at her antics as well.

“Spirits,” Kanto groaned, rubbing his hands through his hair. “Why is this so difficult??”

“Just ask me, Hotshot,” she replied quietly.

“Huh?”

The earthbender sighed. Sometimes Hotshot was a little dense.

“I can ‘see’ the ring,” she confessed, then chuckled when Kanto sat up stiffly in the bed. “Just ask me already,” she repeated.

Her calm and steady voice must’ve tipped the man off that he had nothing to fear. Kanto chuckled and inched his way closer to Toph and Lin. He gently placed his forehead on Toph’s and held her free hand. “Toph Beifong, will you marry me?”

A smile grew across Toph’s face. She never thought she’d be the type to settle down and get married, but with Kanto… it felt perfect. Right.

So there was no hesitation in her answer. “I’ve got no plans today.”

“Wait, you wanna get married right now?”

“Why not?” she asked. “Work will be there tomorrow, and Lin and I have the day to ourselves. I think we can make room for Baba.”

He grinned into her cheek like he always did, then kissed her. “Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a date.”

Toph laughed. “That, we do.”

But no matter how many times Toph replayed the memory, it wouldn’t change. She didn’t stop him from going into work, she didn’t give him the opportunity to ask her, and she couldn’t even remember if she told him she loved him.

Now all she had were his lingering scent, the memory of his voice and his laugh, his clothes now rendered useless in her house, and the little bits of his personality she found in Lin.

It wasn’t enough.

She wanted her happy ending or whatever the fuck people called it. She wanted him. She wanted to hear of the future he thought for them, for the question that he meant to ask her for weeks, she wanted life with him.

And now that was impossible.

……

His entire speech seemed to fall on deaf ears, because Toph didn’t move. Sokka watched as her grip on the covers tightened and loosened every so often, as if a thought of Kanto appeared before her and the thought alone was too much to bear.

“Toph?” he called out after 5 minutes of talking to himself. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

He crouched down and reached across the bed to grab her hand. When his hand made contact, Toph immediately sprung to life and snapped at him as she sat up on the bed.

“Get off his side!” she hissed.

Sokka quickly took his hands off the covers. “Toph, I just—”

“No,” she interrupted.

“Toph,” he repeated, standing up. “You can’t lay here forever. You need to take care of yourself. Take care of Lin.”

“Didn’t know I was competing against you for ‘Mother of the year,’” Toph snapped. “Leave me the fuck alone, Sokka.” Toph stood up and turned away from the warrior, her hands crossed over her chest. He didn’t recall anyone else getting such a reaction from Toph, so he took this as a sign of progress.

“You’re lashing out because you’re upset.”

“Upset doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” he agreed. “But staying in here won’t bring him back. And he wouldn’t want—”

“Fuck that, Sokka!” she yelled, spinning around to face him once again. “Fuck what Kanto would’ve wanted! He’s dead! What he wants is impossible.”

“But he wouldn’t want you to waste your life away for him, Toph!” he argued.

Toph scoffed. “What would you know? None of you know what this feels like.”

“We’ve all experienced loss—”

“Oh? Have any of you lost the love of your life to some crazy murderer on the day they were planning to propose?!”

“Toph—”

The earthbender waved a hand at him. “I don’t want to hear it, Sokka.” Toph fell back onto the bed, all of her fight suddenly spent on those bitter and hurtful words. “Just leave me alone. All of you.”

Sokka didn’t move. He just wracked his brain for something, anything that would bring Toph some semblance of peace. She was so heartbroken, and he wanted to fix it for her. Because that was what they did for each other. He protected her, and she protected him.

But how could he protect Toph from a broken heart?

She was snow on a mountain. Stuck in place until just the right tremor sent her down the elevated earth and back in motion, back to some semblance of life.

And he knew what had to be done.

His entire friendship hung in the balance of his next move, but he had to risk it. Toph was worth it, even if she remained furious with him for the rest of her life.

Sokka walked over to Toph’s side where she lay, and he wrapped his arms around her, picking her up and leading her to the door. His small but mighty friend lashed out, throwing her arms and legs in every which way and screamed for him to let go, but Sokka didn’t.

Thankfully, Toph didn’t earthbend at him, but she slammed her fists into his arms in an attempt to break free. The warrior wouldn’t budge; his friend needed to leave the prison she made for herself.

They made their way out of the bedroom, eventually, and Toph Beifong was still furious at him. She pushed, shoved, and punched Sokka, hoping to escape his iron grip. But she couldn’t break free, and the fight she had within her was slowly withering away.

She didn’t want to stay in that room forever. But it was the thought of losing Kanto completely that kept her holed up. What if Toph forgot what he smelled like? What about his voice? His heartbeat was strong and soothing and helped her fall asleep each night, now it ceased to exist. Would she forget all that made Kanto Kanto?

The fear of the unknown ate away at Toph, and now that she was out of their bedroom, she couldn’t go back. Being in the room, especially now, caused her to succumb to thoughts of Kanto again, allowing them to consume her completely with no fight to stop it from happening. She crossed the doorway, taking the first painful steps of moving on... and she had to be dragged to the starting line.

In the back of her mind, she hated herself for pointing all her pain and anger and sadness on Sokka, her best friend. But he absorbed and shouldered every hurtful comment and shove she aimed at him, and years down the line, she would be grateful for his boldness. Still, in the moment all Toph could do was cry and beat at his chest until all the anger left her, and all that was left was the grief. Her fight slowly but surely withered away.

Kanto was gone, and now she had to spend the rest of her life filled with regret and pain and Toph Beifong wasn’t sure how she was going to get through it all.

But the arms of Sokka were strong and warm and soothing all at the same time, and Toph cried in the comfort of them. She sobbed and let the tears fall as she thought of what her life could have been, what it was supposed to be, and how sad her reality would soon become.

[writing-freak]

BNHA Soulmate AU Week Day 1: The Ticking Clock

(GIF credit to its owner!! :) )

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: 2,726 (haha oops)

A/N: Here we are, kicking off the first day of my BNHA Soulmate AU Week!! Today’s fic is a timer fic, where a timer on your wrist counts down the time until you meet your soulmate! Poor reader has a clock that has been on zero since before they can remember, meaning they may never know who their soulmate is. I had a crap ton of fun writing this (a lot more than I probably should have haha), and I hope you guys like it! Remember, I’m taking soulmate au headcannon and imagine requests for BNHA characters in addition to the 6 other fics I have planned this week! So stay tuned, tomorrow we have a red string au with Tamaki coming! If you want to be added to this week’s taglist, or have a request, let me know! Thanks for reading! :))

Masterlist

In a world filled with hope, you had learned to give up on love a long time ago.

While the rest of the world sat on the edge of their seat, waiting for the timer to hit zero, ready for the rest of their lives to begin with the one they were meant to love, you tried your best to ignore the clock on your wrist.

For while Mina had confided in you that hers was down to under a year, and Momo complained that hers was still just under a decade, you could never relate to the anticipation of the clock running out, of the first meeting of your one true love. Cause yours, for as long as you could remember, had always been zero.

As you got ready to hang out with your friends, changing from your school clothes to something casual, you tied a little scarf around your right wrist.

Most people covered their timers, no matter how exciting they found them. At school, the long cuffs of your uniforms covered up the ticking clock, but on your own time, you could get creative. You knew others who wore sweatbands or bandanas, hair ties or bracelets. But tonight, the small scarf covered your greatest disappointment pretty well.

By the time you were old enough to understand the concept of soulmates, you asked your parents who yours was, if you had already met them. Since you couldn’t remember, they should have then, and for many years of your life, you found yourself blaming them for denying you this part of your life.

But they had been just as upset as you. They had tried so hard, they told you. Tried to keep an eye out for you when the timer was getting close to running out. According to their story, they had taken you to the park, and about three minutes were left when you ran off, slipping out of their grasp.

When ten minutes passed, they were so freaked they nearly called the police. But you came running back to them, arms open wide, and no matter how much they pestered you, they couldn’t figure out where you had gone, or who you had happened to meet.

For a few years, you tried your hardest to remember that day in the park, but you didn’t even remember a park, much less a person you met there. You had been two, three maybe, and you simply couldn’t form the memories.

And you had theories, ones that involved a hopeful future, a future where you actually found the person you were meant to be with. Your two best friends, Midoriya and Bakugou, you had met before you could remember, and when you were younger, before you lost all hope, you liked to fantasize about finding out it had been one of them all along.

But you knew better than that, and like everyone else, their marks were always hidden when you saw them. Soulmates were never something you guys talked about, and by the time you were off to middle school, you learned to give up on that fantasy.

Your soulmate was out there somewhere, but you’d never know who they were.

Fixing your hair quickly, you rushed out the door. You were meeting Bakugou in his room, and he hated it when you were late.

As you waltzed into his dormitory, opening the door without knocking, you could tell by the look on his face that you hadn’t made it in time.

“Haven’t I told you to never be late when you make plans with me?” Bakugou growled, his body nearly sparking with anger.

“Oops,” you said, not sounding apologetic at all, and hopped onto his bed. “Excited for movie night?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. “You’re lucky you’re getting a movie night at all.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” You grinned. “Would it be okay if I could invite Izu?” you asked, putting on your best puppy dog face. You pouted your lip as he looked at you, scowling at your expression.

“I’m not watching a movie with that nerd,” Bakugou scoffed, making you pout harder.

“Please?”

“Tch.” You could tell he was wavering, but by the dangerous look on his face, you could tell he wasn’t very happy about it.

“Yay!” you exclaimed before he even said yes. “I think he’s going to bring Uraraka too!” You jumped on the boy, hugging him tightly.

He shoved you off of him roughly, and you fell back on the bed. “You already invited them!”

You giggled sheepishly. “But you still agreed to it, so everyone wins either way!”

Bakugou rubbed his forehead, clearly frustrated. “Fine, but I’m inviting Kirishima.”

“Yay! A party!”

“It’s not a party, dumbass,” he said, but he still reached out for your hands, helping you up from the bed.

“I’ll go pick out a movie!” You went over to a shelf in Bakugou’s room, where he kept a collection of some of his favorite DVDs.

As you looked through the movies, you kept stealing a glance in Bakugou’s direction. He was getting the TV ready, getting blankets and pillows out for the others that were coming to join you. You knew he didn’t like hugs very much, and you hoped you hadn’t upset him by hugging him earlier. But despite how often Bakugou reminded you verbally how your touches made him angry, he always had let you hug him, squeeze his arm, or rest your head on his shoulder.

You never really were an overly touchy person, and it wasn’t common to find people who weren’t soulmates hugging each other or being overly affectionate, so you never really knew why you had been with Bakugou. When you were around your other friends, you tried to hold back, though, worried they’d find your friendly affection to be inappropriate.

“Oi!” the boy you were thinking about suddenly shouted, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Don’t you have a job to do? Quit staring!”

Your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, you turned back to the DVDs, refusing to say anything.

Luckily, there was a knock at the door just then, and Bakugou left to go let the others in. Izuku, Uraraka, and Kirishima came into the room, each giving you a cheerful wave as they settled in. You quickly fished out one of the films on the shelf and leapt up to welcome them.

As you handed your pick to Bakugou, he gave the smallest of smiles in approval, causing your heart to leap in your chest.

“Hi Izu! Uraraka, Kirishima!” you greeted, smiling brightly. The others smiled in return, the smallest sending you the biggest grin and a little wave of his own. When you noticed his arm was bandaged, you poked it with curiosity. “Izuku, what did you do to your arm?”

Deku scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I broke it again during training.”

You sighed, but had no words for your tiny friend. You knew nothing you could say would stop it from happening again at the next training session, and then again at the one after that. (Trust me, you had tried. Often).

After Bakugou chastised Deku for hurting himself (in his own, heartwarming violent way), everyone settled into their positions for movie watching. You found yourself squished between Bakugou and Kirishima on the bed, with your backs against the far wall, while Izuku and Uraraka shared a blanket on the floor, their backs resting on the side of Bakugou’s bed, just below your feet.

During the movie, Bakugou’s eyes were glued on the screen. You had made a good choice, and you could tell by the peaceful expression on his face (one that was all too rare) that your friend was enjoying himself.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t focus on the movie in front of you. You spent too much time thinking about the boy beside you. And when, about halfway through the movie, Kirishima’s bandana around his wrist shifted, and you could see the clock ticking down, you lost any hope of concentration.

Cause no matter how long you had spent knowing there was no hope, it hurt so bad to be reminded of it, especially when Bakugou’s shoulder was glued to yours, the warmth of his arm comforting, but a constant reminder of what you would never have.

No matter how much you knew you should move away, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and instead, leaned into his touch even more. He was so warm, and for once he was still, and…

~

You woke to someone poking your face. “Hey,” you mumbled, struggling to open your eyes to what was around you.

When you did, you realized you were still in Bakugou’s room, which was still empty, except for the blond boy, whose shoulder you were currently rested on.

“Sorry,” you said, laughing lightly as you lifted your head. “Did everyone leave already?” you asked, moving away from your friend and laying your head down on one of the pillows, stretching your legs out the length of the bed. You yawned, closing your eyes again, giving in to the struggle of trying to keep them open.

“What, did you hate the movie or something?” he grumbled. You could feel his eyes on you even with yours closed.

“I’m sorry Suki,” you said softly. “I’m just tired.” You yawned again, proving your point.

“If you’re tired, you need to go back to your dorm.” He shoved your arm, but not hard enough to send you tumbling over the edge of the bed. You were grateful; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done that before.

“But I’m too tired,” you whined, snuggling even more into his pillow. When Bakugou let out a defeated sigh, you knew he wasn’t moving you anytime soon. He plopped himself down in the bed too, about a foot away from you, facing away from you at the wall his bed was up against.

“If you keep me awake…” he warned, and you laughed in response.

A few more moments, and you realized you were now wide awake, staring at the ceiling as you listened to the breathing of your friend beside you. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but then you heard a heavy sigh next to you.

“Suki?” you said softly, poking his back lightly as you turned to face him. But he didn’t turn around.

“I didn’t want to watch a movie tonight with all those extras,” he grumbled.

You giggled softly. “They’re not extras. They’re our friends.”

“I wanted to watch a movie tonight with you.”

Your smile faded, and you pulled your hand away from his back. He was still facing the wall, and you desperately wanted to see his face, to see what he was thinking right now. “Kat-”

“But you’re not my soulmate.”

And in that moment you knew what he felt about you, and he knew that you felt the same way. But there was nothing you could do about it, the frozen clock on your wrist and the ticking clock on his proof of that. His words were permanent, and you realized then that any fantasy you had ever dreamed of was simply that. A fantasy. He was not your soulmate.

“It’s not fair,” you choked, clutching the back of his shirt as you rested your forehead on his back. You knew you would never have anything like this, and the thought that one day, he would find his true soulmate and he’d leave you behind, alone to deal with the fact that you would never have one of your own, left you trembling against him. “It’s not fair.”

You laid like that until you fell asleep, you sobbing against his back and him using all of the power within him not to turn around and pull you into his arms.

~

When you woke up, you couldn’t move.

You wiggled a bit, but you were locked tightly in place by a pair of arms that were most certainly not your own. Your eyes opened wide as you realized who you were snuggled up against, your head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you, and your legs tangled together at the end of the bed.

“Katsuki?” you asked, lifting your head to look up at your friend’s face just above you. Your struggling had woken him up, and he was blinking his eyes as he noticed your position on the bed.

He groaned when he met your eyes, rolling over as he attempted to untangle himself from you. He was still tired, and you guessed that was why he was groaning instead of yelling, but you were happy about it all the same.

You laid your back down on the bed as he pulled his arm out from under you, trying to calm your racing heart. Your cheeks were on fire, and as you finally found the courage to sit up, you couldn’t look your friend in the eyes.

Instead, you looked down at his hands. But his right arm, which he had just pulled out from under you, was missing something you had never seen Bakugou without. His bracelet, his leather band he never went without.

It was a cruel trick, to show you your friend’s tattoo for the first time after you had spent the night cuddling and admitting your feelings. Except, as you read the tattoo, your heart stopped beating in your chest.

0 years, 0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes, 0 seconds

“Katsuki!” you gasped, grabbing his wrist. “Your timer!”

But Bakugou yanked his hand from your grasp roughly. “You don’t need to remind me!” he yelled, making you realize that he wasn’t too tired to scream. He shoved you away as you reached out again, and sent you nearly off the bed.

“But-”

“What happened last night was nothing,” he said, already shutting down. “I’ll never know my soulmate, and you’ll go and find yours and none of this will matter. Just leave me alone, already! It hurts enough to think I’ll never get what everyone else has. I don’t need to be thinking about the fact that you belong to someone else!”

“Katsuki, look!” you finally yelled back, untying your scarf and shoving your wrist in his face. He froze as he saw the frozen timer on your wrist, identical to his.

“What?” he breathed, his own hand trembling as he looked again at his wrist.

“I was too young to remember my timer running out,” you told him. “I met my soulmate when I was a baby, I’d always thought it was someone I’d never know…” you trailed off, looking up at him, meeting his crimson eyes.

But Bakugou had no words, and he stared at you in shock as you realized that you had never had to look far for the person you were meant to spend your life with. You were looking right at him, and no fantasy could compare to the way your heart soared at the thought.

He was suddenly on you, latching his lips to yours frantically, his arms secured around your waist. Before you toppled backwards off the edge, he leaned back, pulling you with him by the hips, until you were on top of him, his back leaning against the bed.

You sighed into the kiss, tears of relief streaming down your face and onto Bakugou’s beneath you. Your hands were on his face, and threaded in his hair, and his were wrapping tighter around your back, pulling you as close as he could.

The kiss was everything, every hope you each had spent years locking away. And when you finally broke for air, you buried your face in his neck, hugging him as tight as you could manage. His arms squeeze you as he held you on top of him, and you let yourself sob freely into his neck.

“Why the hell are you crying?” he asked, peppering kisses on your hair, your ear, your shoulder.

You pulled up, looking down on him with a smile on your face. “I’m just so happy.” You have no idea, you almost said, but as Bakugou gave you a smile of his own, reaching up to give you one more peck, you knew he did, one hundred percent. “I’m just so happy it’s you.”

Taglist: @anything-and-everything-here69​

[anime-academix]

Natural Hair

A/N: Ah, here’s my first scenario! This was actually a lot longer than I thought it would be...but you know, it is what it is. I’m still relatively new to writing these so I hope you all enjoy these and I will be doing my best! This scenario was kind of personal...and to all my black girls out there who have gone through this, please know that our hair is beautiful; no matter what anyone says, we are beautiful and unique! Anywho, enjoy this scenario! (DON’T FORGET TO MESSAGE ME IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS, I WILL TRY MY BEST TO GET TO THEM AS SOON AS I CAN ❤️)

Bakugo:

Though you loved wearing your protective hairstyles, you were insecure about your natural hair. However, growing up in Japan, you were all too familiar with the beauty standards in the country, especially when it came to hair. It was always difficult to find hair products to match your hair texture--that in which you almost always had to order them from international stores-- not to mention the random strangers who were always touching your hair, and some students would poking fun at it.

To Bakugo, he had no idea you were insecure about your hair, because it was something you never brought up. Truth be told, the boy loved your hair. He always found it fascinating to watch you do your hair in the dorm on weekend nights. Even everytime you came to school with a new hairstyle, Bakugo would always find a way to compliment your hair, always adding that you were beautiful.

It was very rare that you wore your natural afro to school, but today, you wanted to try something different.

You poofed up your afro a few more times before adjusting your uniform. A small smile appeared on your lips, impressed with your hair’s ability to cooperate this morning. The last time you had worn your afro natural was this past summer when your grandparents came to visit, but then it was only for the weekend.

A loud knock could be heard at your door.

“Hey, hurry your ass up! Just ‘cause we live on campus doesn’t mean we can take our time to get to class,” Bakugo said on the other side of your door. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your backpack, putting your arms through the loops. Walking over to the door, you paused and felt your cheeks heat up. This would be the first time he would be seeing you wear your natural hair to school.

What if he hated it? Or thought it was goofy looking? You thought to yourself before pausing and shaking your head. You turned the knob to your door, pulling it open to reveal your spiky haired boyfriend. He was leaning against the door frame when you opened the door.

His eyes widen at your sudden change of appearance. “Holy shit,” he breathed out. It caught you off guard and you felt your face heat up even more. “It’s something different, I just wanted to try this style...oh god, do you not like it?” You began ranting, before you could finish he tsked.

“Hey, don't speak for me,” he growled, lifting himself from off the door frame. “You look beautiful. I always love seeing the many things you can do with your hair,” Bakugo told you, snaking his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

Call it cheesy or whatever, but you couldn't help the flood of butterflies that invaded your stomach at his sweet words. “Suki...” you said softly, looking at him.

“But if you tell anybody I told you that, I’ll kill you,” he defended, removing his arm from around your waist and fitting his hand in yours as you both head off to class.

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

By the time you got into your homeroom class, all of Class 1A was gawking in awe at your hair. Your other classmates were practically toppling over each other to get a closer look at your hair, some even asking if they could touch your afro. 

“Girl, your hair has so much volume! Did you try that new curl cream? See, I told you, you gotta get rid of that Cantu stuff and your hair will thank you!” Mina squeaked. Bakugo looked at you then at Mina with an obvious look of confusion written on her face. 

“It looks so soft!” Ochaco commented.

“It’s so pretty! How long does it take for you to get that style?” Momo questioned, placing her hands on her hips. Others nodding in agreement with Momo’s question.

You smiled at your classmates, blinking at the sudden bombardment of comments and questions. 

Bakugo scoffed and leaned against your chair. “Alright. Back up you damn nerds,” He muttered, shooing them away. Bakugo began heading back to his seat, sneaking in a wink which made you blush. 

There was an unanimous “awe” as they all began to disperse. All except for one. Mineta. 

“Why are you all so obsessed with her hair? I mean come on, it just looks...what the word...oh! Nappy...” Mineta announced, which caused you to stiffen. Everyone paused and exchanged uncomfortable glances at each other. “I’m serious, guys! It looks so distracting and messy.” 

“Dude, stop it,” Kaminari interjected.

He stepped closer to you and pressed his hand into your hair, grabbing a handful of curls. “But hey, it’s okay. Your hair may be ugly, but at least it doesn't distract me from your nice rack,” he added, smirking. 

Before anyone could even respond, there was a low rumble filling the room. The students all stiffened, and turned their attention to the source of the noise. It was none other than your boyfriend. He had gotten up from his seat, walking towards your desk, setting off small explosions in his hands. His face was painted with a never before seen look of anger, rage pooling his eyes. It was enough to send goosebumps down your spine.

“You want to fucking say that again, you waste of space?” Bakugo challenged through gritted teeth.

“Hey! You two, we cannot resort to violence! Let’s sit down and talk this out!” Iida offered. Bless his heart for his attempts but it would be rendered useless. The ash-blond spiky haired boy, hated Mineta deeply. He hated the sexual comments he made about you and even suggestive gestures in front of you. There were several times where he’s gotten close to sending Mineta to the emergency room, but you and Mr. Aizawa always came in just in time to put a stop to it. Calming down Bakugo was like trying to stop an already erupting volcano. 

Mineta released his grasp from your hair and begin backing up, fear reeking his whole body. “I...uh...heh...it was...” He stuttered.

“Katsuki...no, leave it alone, it’s fine,” you told him, standing up from your seat.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m not gonna send him to a funeral home...I’d think, it’s been a while since you’ve visited Recovery Girl, HUH?!” He growled, lunging towards him which evoked a loud scream from Mineta.

“Katsuki, no!” You yelled, stepping in front of him quickly. You pressed your hands against his chest and attempted to hold him back. “Please, just leave it alone. Don’t start anything, please...for me?” You said softly, moving your hand to rest on his arm, then eventually down to his hand.

He would be lying if he said that your voice and even touch alone didn’t calm him down. You’re one of the rare individuals in his life who can pull him out of rage fit and even a soon to be crime scene, and this time was no different.

His eyes stared into yours as you watched the rage in his eyes dissipate and his tense body loosen. You offered him a small smile, giving his hands a soft squeeze, receiving a growl in response. He pulled his hand from yours with a huff and went back to his seat.

You turned to Iida who mouthed a relieved ‘Thank You’ then turned your eyes to Mineta who was standing there engulfed in fear and...pee? Oh my...the boy peed himself, you thought in disbelief as you sat back down in your chair.

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

Walking back to the school dorm, your head was full of thoughts. Throughout the school day, you’d be lying if you said what Mineta said didn't bother you. You knew his words out of everyone should matter the least, but you couldn't help but ponder on those words: Nappy, Distracting, Ugly. Ugh, it was like primary school all over again. How could you forget all those days when the other students would make fun of your hair, sticking school supplies in your afro and even grabbing your hair when you asked them to stop. And of course all the boys you had crushes on but they turned you down because they thought your hair was too ugly and weird. 

What if Bakugo actually thought the same thing? That your hair was ugly and messy and he was just trying his best to be nice about it. You thought to yourself.

By the time you reached your dorm room, you had tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You turned the knob, pushing open the door. As soon as the door closed, locking it behind you, you dropped down to your knees, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. Broken sobs left your lips as you doubled over on the ground. 

Truly, you didn’t understand. Why people would waste their time bullying someone because of their differences--and even something they cannot change. You didn’t have straight hair like Tsuyu and Ochaco. You didn’t have luscious hair like Momo and manageable hair is Mina. You hated the fact that you had much thicker hair which took you hours to just wash and detangle. You hated that your hair would shrink when you washed it. Truth be told, you couldn’t help but think that maybe Bakugo hated the fact that he couldn’t run his fingers through your hair when you cuddled late at night. 

You had finally gotten the strength to stand to your feet, tossing your book bag aside and taking off your shoes. You collapsed on your bed, attempting to silence your sobs into your pillow. You had thought you had done a pretty decent job being quiet until you heard a faint knock on your door. Immediately, your breathing hitched. Oh no...who is that? Did they hear me? You thought to yourself. Slowly, you lifted your head from your pillow and turned to the door. As useless as it probably was going to turn out, you decided you try to remain quiet in hopes that whoever knocked would just walk away.

Despite your hopes, the person knocked again. “Y/N...it’s me...will you please let me in.” Instantly, you recognized that voice. It belonged to your boyfriend, Bakugo. Oh no...okay, he couldn't have heard me crying. Shit, what if he did? He’s gonna ask why I’m crying...If I tell him, he’d probably think I’m being stupid and--

“I know you’re in there, Y/N. Just open the damn door! Please...” He added pulling you from your thoughts, knocking again. There was a brief moment of silence and stillness. You heard him let out a sigh.

“Please...did I do something?” he questioned, a slight pang could be heard in his voice. “If I did, I’m sorry...will you please let me in so we can talk.” His fist unraveled as he pressed his palm against the door. Truth be told, Bakugo had no idea what he had done. He tried to think back to the past couple of days to see if there was something he said that caused you to cry. It couldn't have been the usual banter between the two of you because you could tell when it was all just jokes and he knew when not to cross the line. 

Your heart broke hearing his words. It wasn't him, not at all. How were you going to tell him it was because of your hair. He’d laugh at you and think you were being childish. But he didn’t deserve to be shut out. A soft sigh left your lips as you pushed yourself off the bed and headed to the door. You unlocked it and opened it just slightly. He pushed open the door and before you could react, he engulfed you in his arms. You were completely taken by surprise.

Bakugo closed the door behind him with his foot before pulling away, his hands remaining on your shoulders. Concern washed over his face seeing the current state you were in. Your eyes were red, dried tear stains streaked down your puffy face. “Y/N...” He started. “It’s not you, Bakugo,” You choked out, feeling the tears cloud your vision yet again. In a blink of a moment, his face softened as he wiped away a tear that had fallen with his thumb.

“Then why are you crying?” He asked softly. Your eyes shifted down as you remained silent. You couldn’t help but chuckle in your head because it was humorous almost. Bakugo was always so loud and aggressive around other people but it’s moments like these when you got to see this softer side of him. 

He took note of your silence and scowled slightly. “Why aren’t you telling me what’s going on? Did I hurt you?” He paused and dropped his hands immediately. “Do you not trust me, Y/N?” He questioned, not missing the slight crack in his voice.

You shook your head, as your eyes remained glued down to the floor. “No, Katsuki. I do trust you...it’s just...” A sigh left your lips as you hugged yourself. “If you trust me then tell me what’s going on. We promised not to hide things from each other!”

“I can’t...” You whispered. “What?!” He argued back, both of you knowing full well he heard you. “I said I can’t, Katsuki!” You said, raising your voice. His brow furrowed at the use of his full name coming from your mouth. You rarely called him Katsuki. Whenever you did, it would indicate that you were serious. He hated hearing you call him that. Yes, that was his name, but even if he didn’t admit it, it always warmed his heart when you called him pet names, especially Suki. 

“That’s not my name, dammit! And why the hell not?!” Bakugo yelled back. 

“Because it’s stupid! I’m sitting in my room crying because I think my hair is ugly and a fucking mess and I don’t have luscious beautiful hair like all those other girls in this school! I c-can’t...just wake up in the morning, brush my hair and go out looking beautiful! I have to...to...go through fucking hell just to look presentable, every single day, just to be dragged down and treated like shit because my hair texture is different! Do you know how many days I came home and cried to my mom because the kids in my class would bully me because of my hair?! God, I sound so stupid!” By now you were crying your heart out. As your sobs filled the room, you pressed your palms onto your eyes, crying into your hands. 

Bakugo said nothing in response. He had no idea you felt this way about your hair. If anything, he was obsessed with your hair and impressed with the many things you could do with it. He truly believed that your hair added to your beauty. His heart broke seeing your fragile state. In this moment, he didn’t care how he looked, he didn’t waste another second and wrapped his arms around you. Once you felt his embrace, you collapsed your weight into his body and he held onto you, eventually dropping to the floor, holding you close against his chest, pressing a few soft kisses in your hair.

After a while, you finally calmed down, sniffling and playing with the cuff of his sleeve. “You’re such a dumbass, you know?” Bakugo finally said. You were taken by surprise. “Because you convinced yourself that you sound stupid telling me about your problems. How many times have I told you that you can always come to me to talk about what you’re going, no matter how big or small.” He said to you as he continued to rock you in his arms. “And how many times do I have to tell you that you are beautiful. Your hair is beautiful and everyone else’s shitty opinion is stupid and irrelevant. I don’t care that you don’t have stupid straight hair, I love YOUR curls, Y/N. I love that you go to sleep wearing your bonnet at night and that you contribute so much time to take care of your hair and can do all those fancy smiles. I’d take your hair texture over anyone else’s in a heartbeat and I want you to always remember that. You’re no match for those damn extras out there, ya hear?” 

You looked up to meet his eyes which were already on you, nodding softly in response. “Good. And if you ever feel like that again, you better come to me and talk about it. I know you can handle your own, but if any of these damn nerds are making fun of you, you come tell me and I’ll deal with them.” He growled. You stared up at him, smiling. Oh you were so in love with this boy. 

“What?” Bakugo questioned. Your smile turned into a grin before you pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you, Suki,’ you said softly. A faint blush painted his cheeks as he tsked, “Yeah, yeah.” He smirked slightly and took the opportunity to kiss your lips before pulling away.

“I’m still gonna kill that damn grape,” he muttered. “Hey, no no. It’s fine. I’ll deal with him. Plus...you already made him wet himself. This is the third time this month, give him a break, love. If he says something, I’ll handle it.” Bakugo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Tch. Fine. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop watching his and everyone else’s every move,” He told you.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. But for now, cuddles, please” you pouted, shifting to wrap your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he tightened his grip around you before standing up to his feet and walking the two of you over to your bed. 

[nadisabug]

Fictober 2020-Day 10

Training pt 3

Prompt: "all I ever wanted"

Fandom: ATLA Pairing: Zuko x reader Warnings: language A/N: Here’s the long awaited part 3! I hope you enjoy!

Part One and Part Two

Days passed, and with them, the tension between Zuko and I grew. Ever since our two big fights the day he was training Aang, I began avoiding him. I didn't know why, but every time I was even near him my stomach felt uneasy and my face burned. It was almost as if I was allergic to him.

Yet, despite this, I felt some sort of magnetic pull towards him. It was like Katara's words awoke something inside of me. I began to obsess over the rare moments when Zuko smiled, the awkward upturn of his lip making my heart skip. I felt urges to be near him, but I squashed those feelings down.

It wasn't until one fateful night where I realized what I felt for him. It was nearing the day of Sozin's comet and we were traveling to make sure we had everything we needed. We were all sitting around the campfire, that Aang had proudly made, and chatting. We were talking as if nothing was wrong, like we weren't about to challenge the Fire Lord to save the world. I was sitting next to Aang, Katara on his right. Sokka and Suki were nearly on top of each other, Toph a respectable distance away from the lovebirds.

"You know, I could start up my own campfire making business when this all ends," Aang boasted, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ah yes, the Avatar: Professional Matchbox," Sokka said dramatically waving his arm in the air. Sukki giggled and Sokka shot her a proud smirk.

"Hey," Aang pouted. "Don't minimize my achievements!"

"Aw, Aang," I cooed and wrapped my arms around him. "I think you'd make a great traveling campfire salesman!"

Everyone laughed and began chatting once more, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Zuko get up and walk around to the other side of Appa. I frowned and stood up, quickly excusing myself, and followed him.

We walked all the way around Appa and quite a distance away. We were far enough to where the chatter of our companions was just a distant murmur.

Finally Zuko stopped, arms crossed, staring at the moon.

"You can't keep doing this," I said softly, finally breaking the ice.

"Would you prefer I burn the Avatar to a crisp?" He replied airily, still looking at the moon.

I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "I still don't understand why he upsets you so much."

At this, Zuko turned around and looked at me. He had a puzzled expression and seemed to be searching my face for something, but in the end, scoffed and looked back up at the moon.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

I pursed my lips. I really didn't know what he was talking about, but it didn't seem like he was going to tell me.

We sat in silence for a moment, and I too turned to the moon.

"You know, I hate seeing you like this. I care about you, you know," I broke the delicate silence.

"Don't," Zuko growled. "Say that."

"What?" I turned to face him. "I really do! I care when you get all moody and stalk off to brood in silence. I care when Sokka pushes something too hard and upsets you. I love those rare moments when you smile, or even laugh. I love the idea that you can finally be who you want to be without anyone telling you whats right or wrong. Zuko, I really, really like-" my breath caught in my throat. Zuko suddenly looked at me and under the intensity of his gaze it all came crashing down on me.

The reason why I never missed one of their training sessions was so that I could watch him. The reason why whenever Zuko got near me I couldn't function. The reason why his laugh reduced me to ashes. The reason why his eyes felt like fire on my body.

I liked him. Like a lot.

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to say it.

"Don't," Zuko growled again, lower this time. He took another step towards me. We were mere inches apart. He radiated a heat that was comforting, and I had to resist the urge to curl into it.

"Or what?" I shot back in a shaky voice, tilting my chin my to stare at him head on.

Instead of answering, Zuko grabbed me. One hand grabbed my hip and yanked me flush with his body, the other cradled the back of my neck. The feeling of his body against mine was intoxifying, a drug I never knew existed but now knew I could not live without. I stared into the beautiful expanse of his golden eyes, losing myself in him. I melted into his rough grip, laying my arms on his shoulders.

He looked conflicted. His face was screwed up, eyebrows knitted. His eyes flickered back and forth between my own eyes and my lips and back again. It became apparent that he was unable to make a further move, his doubts getting the better of him. As his grip began to loosen, I reached up and grasped his face, pulling it down to mine.

And I kissed him. He reciprocated immediately, his lips moving against mine. The taste of his mouth on mine was almost too much to bear and I felt a fire start in me. My knees began to weaken, but Zuko's grip held me up. His hand shifted to my lower back and he pulled me even closer. And we kissed.

We kissed until I could no longer breathe, so I pulled away from him, reluctantly. He followed me with his head, but once he heard my panting, he relented and rested his head on my forehead. His larger lung capacity from firebending probably meant he could go longer, but he ended the kiss for my sake.

Once I regained my breath Zuko swooped in again, capturing me in another kiss. When he pulled away he had a proud smirk on his face.

"What?" I whispered breathlessly.

"I bet Aang can't kiss you like that," he said snarkily. I rolled my eyes and slapped his chest.

"That's what you were thinking about? Aang?"

Zuko's eyes darkened. "It's hard not to when you hang on him like that."

I pressed my lips together. "We're friends."

"I know," Zuko sighed. He kept one hand on my lower back and used the other to comb through his hair, tugging on it slightly. "I just... all I ever wanted..." Zuko sighed again, collapsing. He wrapped his another arm around me and ducked his head into the crook of my neck. I knew what he was trying to say, now, but I knew he had to say it to fully let go.

"I just wanted you to care that much about me," he finally muttered into my neck, almost imperceptibly.

I laughed and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"I do. It just took me a while to realize it."

And I knew I meant it.

Zuko stayed the for a while longer before he finally perked up and let go of me.

"Let's go back to the rest of them, yeah?" Zuko suggested.

"Yeah."

"And no more hugging Aang," he added on quickly. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but I stilled replied, assuring him.

"Promise."

[just-jordie-things]

14 and 74 for zuko plss

prompt 14: kiss on the neck prompt 75: kisses where one person is sitting in the other person’s lap ___

Traveling and living with your friends full time was fun and all, you went on a lot of interesting adventures, and you were saving the lord for spirit’s sake, you should be more proud of what you were doing.

But being with everyone all the time meant that you didn’t get to have a lot of private moments with your boyfriend.

You weren’t sure that Zuko really noticed this, but you felt like you’d been on edge ever since coming to Ember Island.  You’d only been together a month or so, having gotten together not long after he’d joined the gaang- which they still weren’t too fond of but made less comments about it now since you were both so happy together- since being on the island however, you’ve realized that you craved more alone time with him.

You were a little clingier, grabbing at his hands at dinner, snuggling up against him at the theater, it was impossible not to notice, but you didn’t think that Zuko pieced it together in his head.  The few kisses you’d been able to share lingered, and you always held your breath longer than necessary.

Truth was, you had it bad for Zuko, and you just wanted to sit around all day to kiss every inch of his face.

Finally, today was that day.

Your friends were all busy- Suki and Sokka were off training, and Toph, Katara, and Aang went into town for groceries- which left the whole area to you and Zuko.

So after your friends left, and Toph was far enough away that she probably wouldn’t be able to use her seismic senses, you let your hair down, and happily skipped outside to where your boyfriend was sitting by the fire.

It was fairly early in the morning, the sky was gray and it was foggy, and sitting by the fire brought a comfort and warmth that was best experienced at this time of day.

As you made your way over to him, you saw that Zuko was firebending a little, playing with the flames and watching them dance over his knuckles calmly.  He was sitting on the ground, his back propped up against a log while he rested peacefully.

It was rare to see him looking so content, especially when you were days away from ending a war.  It made you smile.

He looked up at you as you approached, smiling back at you fondly.

“Morning, beautiful,” He hummed, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine.  “Sleep well?”

He reached his hand up to you, extinguishing the flames so you could take it and sit with him.  But instead of crouching down next to him, you plopped yourself down in his lap.

He cocked his head and opened his mouth to say something- not having expected you to do... that, but no words came out.

“I slept wonderfully,” You sighed, your arms draping over his shoulders so that your fingers could play with the ends of his hair.  “You?” 

Zuko swallowed, which you noticed, before nodding back at you.

“Y-yeah I slept, um, fine” 

You smiled a little at this, because you knew that Zuko had issues with falling asleep and staying asleep, so you felt relieved that he was well rested.

“Good,” You murmur, before leaning in and giving him a short peck on the lips- which wasn’t nearly enough for Zuko- but he didn’t complain as you pulled away.  “I’m glad” 

He chased your lips a little, leaning forward and sliding his hands around your hips to pull you in closer.

“Everyone left” He hummed as his nose ghosted past yours.

“Hm, did they?” You pretended to look around, pulling further back from Zuko than necessary as you scanned the area around you.  “I didn’t notice-” 

“Yes you did,” Zuko muttered, one of his hands flying up to the back of your neck to bring you back close to him, but not kissing you.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat while his eyes were focused intently on yours.

“You’re so hot when you play coy” He mumbles, and this time he notices your shiver.

You giggle nervously when he smirks, your hands completely delving into the hair at the nape of his neck now.

“You’re so hot all the time” You hum cheesily in response, and lean in closer to kiss him, but he doesn’t give you the satisfaction.

He’s blushing from the comment, heat creeping up his neck and pooling at his cheeks, but he tries not to let his sheepishness get in the way of him trying to tease you.

“I thought you couldn’t go to the market because you had a headache, love?” He questions, his thumb tracing down your jaw.

“You wanna play that game?” You inquire, your eyes flickering up to his.  “Because I thought you couldn’t firebend with Aang because of the lunch you were making us,” You spoke in the same playful tone as he had, and he rolled his eyes affectionately.  “Where’s the groceries for that, love?” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, before drawing you in and placing a sweet kiss on your lips.  It was soft and gentle- nice- but not what you craved in the moment.

He pulled away too soon for your liking

“Pardon me for getting a little distracted by my girlfriend,” He teased, and now you were the one to roll your eyes.

Again, he gave you a short kiss, and you huffed as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“How much time do you think we have?” He murmurs, the hand on your hip trailing up to gently cup your cheek.

“Not enough” You breathed, before leaning in and properly slotting your lips over his.

The hand on the back of your neck tightened as he pulled you impossibly closer to him.

A moan died in the back of your throat, your chests flush together and your legs wrapping around his hips tightly.

Zuko’s lips trailed away from you, talking his time as he placed slow, open mouthed kisses along your jaw.  You tilted your head to give him proper access as you let out a shudder.

“Your heart’s beating really fast” Zuko murmurs as he drops his head to the crook of your neck, letting smaller and and shorter kisses across the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

“Yeah,” You said in a duh tone.  “I’ve needed you all week” 

You feel his lips tug into a smirk before he nips playfully at your shoulder, and looking back up at you.

“Needed me, huh?” He muses, and your brows furrow as he gives you a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t you dare start teasing me again” You said as threateningly as you could while putty in his hands.

Speaking of hands- Zuko’s traveled down past your hips, grabbing your thighs and roughly pulling you back against him.

“You started it” He muttered, and captured your lips in a sloppy but butterfly-inducing kiss.

You didn’t retaliate, just grinned almost drunkenly as he went back to strategically kissing down your neck, until he found that sweet spot that made you whimper a little.  Upon hearing the delightful sound, Zuko decided this would be the perfect spot to leave a little mark.

As he nipped and suckled the skin until there was a pretty mark left behind, you melted completely under his touch.

“Zuko,” You mumble, breathlessly, but steal a quick kiss from him anyways.

Your hands grasp at his jaw, kissing him a second time, almost losing your train of thought, but it comes back to you as his hands grasp your thighs a little tighter.

“Put the fire out” You tell him seriously, and he nods back at you.

You scrambled off his lap, adjusting your messy hair as he stomped out the remaining flickering flames.

As he turns back to you- looking nothing but hungry- you grin ear to ear, and open your arms just as he grabs onto you, lifting you up and sliding his hands under your legs to carry you as he stumbled towards the house.

Your arms wound around his neck, and now it was your turn to give his throat the same attention he’d given your own neck while he all but ran inside. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[kataang-dungeon]

Beautiful No Matter What

When a new beauty trend starts to increase in popularity, Katara struggles with her image of herself.

Rated: M

Word count: 1891

Read here on ao3.

ooo

It starts out as a new trend, mostly in the larger cities where more people reside, and in the areas where news comes quickly. Katara hears it first in Ba Sing Se, because of course she does. Of all the places she has been, this city is by far the most baffling. She guesses that she should not be surprised when she hears the first giggles and whispers on the streets.

"Oh Liling, your breasts are so big! They look so much better than mine," exclaims a rather prissy-looking woman. "I bet Diu will love them, especially in that dress you're wearing tonight."

At first, Katara thinks it is ridiculous. She thinks nothing of it. Then, she passes the winding districts in the Lower Ring on her way to help heal at a clinic with neglected funding. She sees drawings and pinups for sale in back corners, lewd imagined pictures of women with breasts popping out of their blouses, cleavage bigger than she has ever seen in person. Men salivate over them, turning in coin for a picture or two, and some of the wealthier ones even commissioning paintings of women in provocative poses through their servants.

She hates it, thinks it is demeaning to women. She scoffs at the idea. Still, she cannot help but notice that as the months pass by, more and more women walk with their chests puffed out, backs straighter, shoulders high. Everywhere she and Aang travel, she sees padding in local markets and shops for enlarging breast size and giving the illusion of a heftier bosom. Dresses with extra pieces of fabric sewn into the front become heavily advertised.

By the time half a year passes and summer arrives, the trend has even reached Kyoshi Island, a feat that Katara thinks could have never happened. Girls in their battle armor compare sizes and snicker when something looks particularly flattering on one of them. Katara is shocked when she hears one of Suki's girls say, "I only like women with breasts big enough for me to squeeze, of course!" when she is asked for her preferences. "If they're too small, it's not fun at all!"

She is not bothered by it except for at that moment, ever so briefly. She thinks that this could not be the new standard of beauty now, not when no one has cared about this before. But she supposes seven years after the war should be enough for people to find other things to worry about.

Aang latches onto her hand as the two of them walk through the streets of the capital city in the Fire Nation. The caldera rises around the buildings and pavement, casting a perpetual shadow upon them that serves as permanent shade in such a hot country.

She is content, her arm swinging with Aang next to her. They pick a place to eat that serves Aang’s favorite spicy potato curry.

She hears it then, the whispers that she dreads, the judging ones. They have followed her for years since she and Aang began dating. Sometimes, it is Aang they criticize. An Air Nomad taking a Water Tribe woman as a significant other, and he is bald at that. Other times, it is her they make snide remarks at. “That Water Tribe wench is only with him because he’s the Avatar. She’s taking advantage of his status,” is something she has heard.

Usually, they do not bother her. They bother neither of them. She and Aang love each other too much for things so trivial as what other people think to cause them to wedge apart.

But Katara listens anyway when a gaggle of people at a nearby table make their presence known.

“How crude of the Avatar to take such a hideous woman to bed,” laughs someone. The voices sound like they belong to young adults or teenagers, and perhaps of noble birth.

“Yeah, imagine Shi bringing that home!” laughs another. “Her boobs are the size of my pinky finger!”

“A piglet couldn’t even suck on one,” adds someone else.

She sees how Aang reacts first. His fingers start to curl, and she can tell he is trying to hold his anger in. The other table is not exactly subtle. But before he can say or do anything, Katara stands, her chair toppling over behind her.

A fire burns in her chest, her cheeks are hot with embarrassment, and she storms out of the restaurant without another word.

She makes it back to the palace, unaware that she has thrown open the doors to their chamber until she has already gone to the bathroom to furiously untangle her hair from its braid. She hears footsteps run behind her, and then Aang stands behind her. She can see the worried expression on his face in the mirror.

“Katara,” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“I’m going to bed,” she states, finally throwing her hair tie on top of the countertop. She pivots into their room and grabs her sleep clothes.

“It’s still sunset,” Aang speaks again. The door to their bathroom shuts. “Please, Katara. You know they were out of line. You’re—”

She swivels around to face him, mouth in a scowling line. “You heard them. I’m ugly and my breasts are too small and—”

Aang tries to grab for her flailing hands. Her sleep clothes fall to the floor. “You never cared about looks before,” he says. His eyebrows are scrunched together. “And you know that no matter what you say, you’re still the most beautiful person in the world to me.”

A tiny part of her wants to burst with affection for him because she knows he is right, and she knows he means it. Yet, all those months of being shown that she is not desirable enough, that she isn’t pretty enough—sinks into her head and suddenly all she knows is that all those things are true. And if they are true, she is not enough for him.

She wants more than anything to be enough for Aang.

Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes before she can stop them. She hastily begins to wipe them away, but Aang is there again. His hands on her face, thumbing her cheeks.

“You’re beautiful, Katara,” he murmurs. So soft. “I promise.”

Her breath heaves. “But what if I’m not?” she asks no one in particular. “I am small-chested, and people are more attracted to larger chests and—”

“And nothing,” Aang insists. His eyes are upon her. They sparkle with adoration. “It doesn’t matter to me. You’re perfect just the way you are.” He pauses to press a kiss to her forehead. Then, lowly, he says, “I can show you exactly how perfect.”

Their gazes meet, and she remembers just who she is with.

He guides her in a slow circle, a gentle dance. The sun sets through the window, and they move to their own tune. His hands are on her shoulders, asking for permission. She shudders when he makes his promise to her again, that she is beautiful no matter what.

He slides the fabric of her tunic down one of her arms and kisses her shoulder. He slides the other sleeve down to her elbow and his lips are on the crook of her neck. Her tunic pools on the floor and she is left with her trousers and undergarments on.

He looks at her, the fading sunlight lining his face, his strong jaw, and there is desire there. She feels it.

Still, she crosses her arms over her chest, covering the bindings that hide her breasts from him. She should not be afraid to bare herself to him. They have done this and more before. The lingering notions of shame grasp at her thoughts. She looks away.

“Katara,” Aang says. He brings her face closer to his until they are but a breadth from each other.

And that is all it takes.

He moves her so that she sits on the edge of the bed. His fingers find the fasteners of her bindings and unlatch them. In his hands he cups the sides of her, trails butterfly kisses in between her breasts, hovers over her stomach.

His touch is magic, melts something inside of her that she did not know was festering. He makes her feel like a panda lily that blossoms in its rarity on the cone of a volcano. A pinprick of loveliness even in the depths of destruction.

He lavishes her with his fingers, moves up her torso so that he kisses every part of her. He gently sucks on her nipples, one at a time, until they are swollen and wet and turgid with want.

His teeth graze her chest, and she feels him smile into her. He enjoys this, and it fills her with glee.

“Do you see how perfect you are?” he mutters, “How lovely you are?” The tip of his tongue then subsequently peeks out to the side of her breast.

She bites her bottom lip, trying not to moan her delight.

He has always made love to her well, but something about this time is different. He focuses solely on her, emphasizing the parts of her that she had started to hate. When he touches her, it is both with ease and affection. He does not move to remove her trousers, and somehow, that makes her want him more.

“Aang I—” she begins, quivering, “Please.”

His hands are on her back, and he finally moves so that she is laying down on the mattress. His body is so close to hers that she can feel his hardness against her leg.

His nibbles her breasts again and she groans.

“Tell me how beautiful you are,” he gently commands. He kisses her wrist, the inside of her elbow, her thigh. He moves up again, so they are looking each other in the eye. “Tell me,” he practically begs.

She shivers and shakes her head. “I can’t.”

Aang sucks a nipple again, teasing at the drawstrings of her trousers. He glances upward, waiting for her reply.

Katara feels the warmth building in her core, the wetness between her legs. She sees the pleading in his expression, the ripe and raw emotion in the way he looks at her. He holds himself back from her, and it is all she can take. She wants more.

She rises in a rapid motion until she crashes against him. Her arms are around his neck, her lips locked against his. She pulls away only for a second to say, “I’m beautiful,” before she is on him again.

She says it because she needs him. She says it because if anyone can see the magnificence in anyone it is Aang.

They fall to the floor, and he laughs because he has won. She believes him wholeheartedly now as her underwear and trousers disappear below her knees, and he adores her again. The way he loves her at this moment makes her remember that this is one of the many reasons she too loves him.

Aang makes her love herself.

When her back arches and she is thrumming with pleasure on the floor that evening, she forgets for a moment that anyone could make her feel inadequate when she has a man that can make her feel everything but that.

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

THE COOLER

(PLEASE DON’T REPOST/REBLOG)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Characters: Zuko, Sokka, Suki, Hakoda, Chit Sang.

Requested: I guess?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part eight of “destiny is a funny thing”.

previous part

A/N: Hey guys! It’s part eight already! Please tell me your opinion in the comments.

“I need backup over here!” The voices were muffled by the thick metal door of your cell. The walls were covered in ice, as was the floor and the ceiling. You had no idea how much time exactly passed, since you’d been thrown in here. A day? Maybe two? No idea. The only apparent thing was that it seemed to get colder by the second. The temperature was picking and biting at your skin, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. Protected by your inner fire and a mere pair of linen clothes, there wasn’t much you could do to escape. Only hope was left, praying that either Zuko or Sokka would find you.

“No firebending! Into the cooler!” You heard from the halls. The guards had managed it once again. Riling an inmate up to the point where they were forced to use fire, only for the pleasure to stuff them into a cooler seconds later. It was sick. “But... but there are no free coolers left!” You breathed deeply, rearranging your naked feet on the hard ice. “Just stick them together in a cell!” The man from outside barked, before the door of your cooler was opened and a familiar figure was thrown in, before it got closed again.

“Zu... Zuko?” You stuttered, worn out from hours of fighting the cold. His eyes widened as he took you in, limbs barely held warm by your inner flame. “Y/N...,” He grabbed your arm. “There you are. You’re getting cold,” You gave him a short nod, almost whining as he took his warm hand away. “I tried to keep warm as long as possible, but I’m so exhausted,” You rambled, until he softly shushed you. “Come here,” He moved to put an arm around you, but you pushed back slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Warming you up. What’s it look like?” You were still reluctant to let him close, but to be honest, you’d been shivering for forever and it was better to take a little warmth than to freeze. So the next time he tried to draw you in, you didn’t resist. Your body burned where it touched his, as if Zuko’s hands left hot fingerprints on your skin.

“Sokka has a plan to get us out of here,” By now you were halfway on his lap, not willing to let go of the newfound source of heat. It was strange to be so close to him again. But the good kind of strange. “What did he come up with?” Your body relaxed in his grasp, while he explained the plan the group had agreed on, as well as who would be taking part. You were glad to hear that Suki had showed up, knowing how much Sokka had missed her. He’d told you about her countless times. Once you were warmed up enough to move your limbs again, the both of you worked together to loosen the cooler from it’s frame, getting back into sitting position once you’d removed all bolts and screws.

Silence followed the quest, but to your surprise, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. “How did you even end up in here?” Your skin tingled where your arms and tighs touched as you sat next to each other. “That’s a long story,” You answered, as you leaned your head against his shoulder. Your mind was running with different thoughts, fighting a battle on it’s own and contemplating if what you were doing right now really was a good idea.

But Zuko put his arm around you once more. Lost in your own head before, you hadn’t even realized how close you were. “Y/N?” You hummed, nose almost touching his as you stared into his amber eyes. “You know that i love you, right?” His voice had dropped to a soft murmur, almost sounding hoarse. Your breath got caught in your throat, as you could see your own reflection in his orbs. They were burning into your own, hot with affection and full of emotions. There was no denying that Zuko had a raw, natural beauty to him, that could not be undone. Not even by the scar, framing his eye. “I know...” You whispered, sight briefly dropping to his lips, mere inches from your own, before shooting up again. His mouth parted slightly, as he leaned closer. So close that you could already feel his hot breath on your own, eager to taste his lips on yours again.

And then the door of the cooler opened, leading the two of you to drift apart in a flash. Tough Sokka didn’t seem to sense the tension in the atmosphere when he stepped in. “I can take the two of you back to your cell if you’ve learned your lesson,” He said, winking at you, relieved that Zuko and you had landed in the same cell. Zuko shot you a look that you avoided with ease, before he caught himself, releasing a firey breath and revealing all the bolts and screws. “Yes, I have ... completely.” He answered with a smirk. The prince came off completely unbothered by what had almost happened just seconds before. Unlike you. But luckily the non-bender was far too occupied by the escape plan to notice. He lifted his visor, whispering quitely. “I got Suki and Chit Sang out of their cells a few minutes ago. They’ll be waiting for us at the shore,”

Suddenly you sensed a sound from the hall, reacting quickly and pulling Sokka inside. “Someone’s coming!” You explained, closing the door behind him. The voices remained a mumble, until they turned into your passage. “Yeah, new arrivals coming in at dawn,” A male tone reached your ears first, before a female one followed. “Anybody interesting?” She asked. “Nah, just the usual. Some robbers, a couple traitors, some war prisoners, though I did hear there might be a pirate,” You could see Sokka’s worried glance out of the corner of your eye, as you conrinued to listen in on the conversation. “No fooling!” The female guard exclaimed, before their voices faded into nothing once more. “War prisoners. It could be your father,”

“I know,” Sokka said, trailing off. “Well, what should we do? Are we going ahead with the plan or are we waiting another night?” The prince asked the right question, but the Water Tribe boy was clearly in over his head at this point. “I don’t know! Is it right for me to risk Suki’s freedom, all of our freedom on the slim chance that my dad is gonna show up?” You and Zuko shared a brief look. “It’s your call, Sokka,” You inclined softly.

And by night the descision was made. Suki and Chit Sang were already waiting outside the prison, as you, Zuko and Sokka rolled the detached cooler down the hill. The both of them moved to help, before the man spoke up. “Took you guys long enough. This here’s my girl and my best buddy, they’re coming too,” You sighed as he pointed to a male sitting on a rock, as well as a waving woman. Now there were even more people you had to transport, which meant there was an even higher risk to get caught. “Fine. Everybody in the cooler. Let’s go,” Sokka decided. The group proceeded to move the cooler into the water, as he lifted a rock to hide his Water Tribe outfit.

“Are you sure you wanna go? You’re the one who said you wanted to redeem yourself. Redeem your honor. Rescuing your dad is your chance,” Zuko questioned, leaving the boy a last chance to go back. “Your dad” Suki asked, approaching the three of you. You tried to explain the situation to her, while Sokka and Zuko had another discussion about the possibility of his father coming in. “Hey, if you four are done cuddling, can we get a move on” Chit Sang eventually interrupted, earning a glare from you. You could understand how difficult this descision was for your friend. His failure layed heavy on his shoulders, and it was something that had come up multiple times. You remembered all the quiet moments at night when he couldn’t sleep, needing to be reassured again and again.

“No. I’m staying. You guys go,” His gaze wandered to Suki. “You’ve been here long enough,” But the girl shook her head. “I’m not leaving without you, Sokka,” Zuko agreed. “I’m staying, too,” And so did you. “So am i,”

“Not me, I’m out. Let’s roll, baby,” Chit Sang exclaimed, pushing the cooler into the lake and jumping in. You could see Sokka’s hope weavering as he watched them leave. “We gave up our only chance of escaping. I hope we haven’t just made a huge mistake,” You put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly. “Come on, Sokka. Let’s go back,” Morning was arriving by now and the four of you begann climbing back up at the outside of the prison wall as the screams of the guards alerted everyone.

“The plan failed! They’re caught!” Sokka said, eyes widening. “This is a lockdown! We have new prisoners arriving! Everything must be completely secure!” You heard from above, watching the disaster unfold. A male guard fired a large ballista bolt, catching hold of the cooler and dragging it back towardsthe shore. “The gondola’s moving,” Sokka pointed towards the approaching gondola. “This is it. If my dad’s not there, we’ve risked everything for nothing,” You’d made it to the yard when it arrived, staring for it’s door to open. “We had to,” Suki assured him, holding his hand. “Come on, come on ...,” You could feel Zuko moving closer to you, as he watched the people coming out. “Is that him?” He asked, as a large man with a tattoo and a nose ring stepped forward. “My dad doesn’t have a nose ring. Where is he?” A ton of men left the gondola, but the right one didn’t seem to be there. “That’s it? That can’t be it,”

“I’m sorry, Sokka,” Suki spoke softly, trying to give him some comfort. “Oh, no,” Sokka mumbled, afraid he’d made the wrong choice once more. “Hey, you! Get off the gondola!” But then, Hakoda stepped out. “Dad...,” You heard Sokka whisper in front of you and a smile spread out on your face. He’d made the right call after all.

tags:  @zvkonation​ @viva-la-millennia​ @randomness501​ @drheinzd​ @kaylove12​ @duh-dobrik​ @yeetscreetiwannaeat​ @ashnkamfeun    @hailkyoshi​ @shortmexicangirl​ @animexholic​ @sorrythatspussynal​  @mochminnie​ @ninadewitt​