#I like stuff that curls up in the empty spaces in your heart and forces you to sit with the feelings

[papercorgiworld]

I don't need space, I need you

Mattheo and Theodore fluff

Based on this request, please don't hate me for taking 29 days to post this rather average piece, but I had a lot of requests and not a lot of time. I hope you like it!

Finally I had time to write today! Big yey for me, people. I needed it and I'm so happy I wrote something today. 💛 Sending you lots of love and of course: happy readings!

A/N: I got some stuff going on in life so if I don't respond, I'm sorry. Just know that I love you. 💛

Mattheo

“Where’s my princess?” Mattheo sings as he enters the common room in search of you. “Not here, I would check the library.” Blaise states not looking up from his book. Mattheo nods and is about to turn around to head straight for the library, but Draco’s snickering stops him from doing so. “I bet you’re pleased to have a moment of peace.” Mattheo focuses on Draco, not completely getting where the blond's going with this. “I honestly pity you, man, must be so suffocating.” Suddenly all eyes are on Mattheo and not just his friends, the entire slytherin common room is curious to hear what the big bad boy has to say. Mattheo moves a nervous hand through his curls and chuckles. “Yeah, she’s a bit much with her hugs and cuddles, and urgh those constant questions to check on me. I’m lucky she studies so much, so I have a break from time to time.” Mattheo sits down opposite of Draco who grins and nods, fully believing that Mattheo feels saved by your absence. However, Mattheo felt miserable sitting there, knowing that he could be spending time with you.

Just like Mattheo was searching the castle for you, you had been searching for him and ended up checking the common room. With watery eyes you turn around, unnoticed by anyone, and leave the common room. He thinks I’m too much?

***

“Who is it?!” Mattheo yells as he pushes you against the wall of an empty hallway. He rarely raised his voice with you, but now his face was close to yours, his eyes dark and piercing yours. He looks more pained than angry, but you just look confused. To him it was obvious, you had fallen out of love with him and probably found someone else. There was plenty of proof:

A quick kiss on the lips and a wish of good luck before Tuesday's test was all Mattheo got, instead of the tight hug and intense kiss you would normally give him before a test. 

When you got your results back on Wednesday you jumped into Luna’s arms and just gave him a happy smile, while he was standing right there next to Luna. His heart ached to hold you and press you against his chest. Worse was when you asked Enzo about his test first and ended up discussing all the answers, barely giving your boyfriend any attention.

Thursday you went to sit next to Pansy in the common room, instead of settling in your boyfriend’s lap. Mattheo was forced to watch you the whole evening without touching you once. When you left for bed, you told him not to walk you to your room and reminded him to spend some much needed time with his friends. The sweet kiss you gave him, didn’t make up for any of it. 

Were you trying to get rid of him? To Mattheo the case was obvious.

Friday was the worst. Happy to finally have you next to him as you were both reading, settled close by the fire. With his eyes still on the page of his own book his arm moved behind you to pull you closer and you let your head rest on his shoulder as you continued to read, but still Mattheo frowned. Normally you would sling your legs over his and cuddle up against his chest, wrapping your blanket around the both of you and creating this warm bubble of love. He could barely focus on his book, as his eyes constantly wandered to you reading next to him but not cuddled up against him like you used to.

So by Saturday Mattheo had pretty much had it with you. You rubbed your temple as squeezed your eyes. “I have a headache, I’m gonna head to my room and rest for a bit.” You got up from your seat to leave the library and Mattheo did the same. If you weren’t feeling well then he needed to be by your side. “Oh, don’t Matt. I’ll be fine. I’ll ask Pansy to give me something against the pain and settle next to me until I fall asleep.” Mattheo stood perplexed as you just kissed him and left. Now he wasn’t even good enough to take care of you anymore.

This was the moment he snapped. With stern strides he follows you.

“Who is it?!” You frowned at the question and met Mattheo’s dark eyes. “Obviously, you’re done with me. So who’s better than me, huh?” His voice was filled with anger, but his question sounded so heartbreaking, that you felt no need to get angry with him for pushing you against the wall and snapping at you. You cup his cheeks and softly shake your head. “Matt, I love you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your voice is calm and endearing, reminding him of how much he needed your love. You were always so gentle with him and feeling you slip away the past week hurt so much that he felt like falling apart on the spot. He's too hurt and afraid to lose you to act tough and with a whisper he confesses his worries. “You don’t check up on me anymore. You don’t wish me luck before a test like you used to. We don’t cuddle anymore.” You stare at him in silence for a moment, you had never seen Mattheo this soft and vulnerable before. 

Your hands still resting on his cheeks move to his neck as you wrap your arms around him and pull him against you. Mattheo snuggles his face in your neck, embarrassed with himself and desperate for your warmth. You rest your head against his and your fingers move through his curls, making him sigh at your touch. “You told Draco I was a bit too much. So I backed off, because I didn’t want to lose you. I know I can get clingy sometimes, I’m sorry.” Mattheo moves away to look at you and his eyes look guilty. “No, no. Don’t apologise. Don’t be sorry. I love you clingy and cuddly. I need you to be around me.” Your eyebrows knit together. “But I heard you say-” Mattheo interrupts you and shakes his head. “I was being stupid. Don’t listen to the things I say. Just stay with me and love me… overwhelm me with everything you have.” You tilt your head in confusion. “No, I mean listen to me, just forget about what I said back then. I- I was trying to act tough so I pretended to- you know.” You chuckle. “You pretended not to like cuddles, because you wanted to be a tough guy?” Embarrassed with himself Mattheo nods. “I’m a softy for you and I need my daily dose of love. I don’t need space.” 

You sigh at Mattheo’s pouty face. “My boyfriend’s an idiot.” Mattheo nods and leans in for a kiss. “Please, let me take you to your room and let me take care of you, because I want nothing more than to be around you.” You pull him in for another intense kiss as an answer and as you walk to your dorm, he squeezes your hand the whole time walking.

Theodore

“Where’s my lady?” Theodore frowns as he sits down opposite of Blaise, who raises his shoulders without looking up from his book. Theo shakes his head in annoyance, he needed you like he needed cigarettes. He spent the whole day longing for your love and warm embraces. Merlin, all he wanted right now was for you to entangle your fingers with his hair and ask him about his day. “For once the two of you aren’t attached to the hip.” Mattheo quips and Draco snickers. “Must be refreshing to have a moment to yourself.” Theodore stays silent for a moment and a little further, near the common room entrance you halt in your step. “She’s so mothering, it’s almost toxic. I don’t know how you do it, mate.” Draco wiggles his eyebrows at Theo as Mattheo talks. “You know, if you ever need us to come save you, we could always come up with a code word.” Draco offers and Theodore chuckles, not knowing what to say. “It’s not toxic, but I’m happy to have a moment with you guys, because she can be a bit much. She’s always so… clingy.” You chew your lip and slowly take a step back, leaving the common room as the word ‘clingy’ rings in your head. 

***

You didn’t want to lose your boyfriend due to being too clingy. So you decided to keep your distance. 

Instead of spending your evening studying cuddled up with your boyfriend you ask Hermione to help you out with potions who of course never passes the opportunity to study. Keeping up his tough act in front of his friends, Theodore can’t protest as you leave the common room to go study with your friend instead of with him. Theo feels himself get cold as he sits by the fireplace with his friends. If you’re not there to keep him warm the room just feels empty and even the conversations are boring. He can’t help but curse himself for letting you go study with Hermione. Having to make peace with an evening without you, Theodore longs for the next day and having you next to him during breakfast while you talk about your plans for the day. 

The next morning, at breakfast Theo only gets a small kiss from you before you turn to Pansy gossiping about some third years. Theodore can’t resist but snake an arm around you and you love his touch, but you try not to be too clingy and decide to not fully lean against him. Your boyfriend is happy to have you next to him, but disappointed that you stay engaged with Pansy’s gossip instead of giving him some much needed attention. Why were you not combing his hair with your fingers until it looked the way you preferred it? Why were you not checking if he had done all his homework? What was so bloody interesting about Pansy’s conversation?!! He was getting so annoyed that he was caught by surprise when you kissed him tenderly and headed for class. His mind and body were screaming to have you back by his side and walk you to class, but he just turned to his breakfast and spent the morning sulking.

Finally, after two days, he had you close to him, settled on his bed with a book in your hand. You were all alone in his room and you both enjoyed the peace and quiet. You lay between his legs with his arms around you, while his head rested on yours, reading some of the paragraphs of your book but mostly taking in your warmth and scent. He gives you a soft kiss on your cheek and you smile and lean against his chest. “I love you.” You whisper and his eyes shine even brighter than he smiles. “Love you too.” However, your romantic moment is ruined when Blaise and Mattheo enter. “Astronomy tower?” Mattheo raises his eyebrows at Theo who is about to decline the invitation, but you speak up first. “I was just about to meet up with Luna.” You jump up and Theodore's eyes go furious at the suggestion of you leaving. “No you’re not.” Theo snaps at you, shaking everyone in the room. “Why are you so eager to get away from me?” Theo questions and Blaise and Mattheo’s eyes move from their friend to you. You take a step back at your boyfriend's accusation. “I’m not. I’m just giving you space so you can hang out with your friends.” Theo shoots Blaise and Mattheo a dark glare. “Out! Both of you!” 

As soon as the duo closes the door behind them and you and Theodore are left alone in the room Theodore gets up and towers over you. “I don’t want space, I want you. So tell me what’s going on, because I can’t stand it anymore.” His voice is stern, but you feel yourself relax as you no longer have to act differently and you can finally be honest with him. “You think I’m clingy and sometimes I’m too much… and I get that and I don’t want to lose you… so I did my best to give you some space in the hopes of saving our relationship.” Theodore’s heart aches at the soft tone of your voice. How could he make you feel like you were too much when you were all he wanted. “I’m such a shit boyfriend.” Theo sighs as he sits back down on his bed, making you frown and join him. “No, I was too much.” Theo’s head snaps to you. “You are not. I didn’t want those idiots to think I was whipped or soft or- so I said you were clingy, but you're not, if anything I am… I want you around 24/7.” Your eyes widen at his confession. “Soooo, you’re saying that ‘the’ Theodore Nott is so in love with me that he prefers cuddling over hanging with his friends.” Your boyfriend chuckles. “Yeah, so please just go back to reading in my arms and make me the happiest man alive.” You lean towards him and he meets your lips. The sweet kiss quickly turns passionate as you both fall back on the bed.

For the ones who asked to be tagged, here you go lovies: @ho3forfakeguys and @bitchoftoji

#mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #pepercorgiworldwritings

[aetherdoesthings]

hello!!! i hope ur having a good day/night! can i request headcanons or fics (whatever you prefer!) of reader falling asleep because of work and the monster trio's reaction to it? thank u!!

hello!!! i hope you're having a good day/night too!

forethoughts: gonna be out of my country next week for vacation, so probably not going to upload as much, but i'll try. i hope you enjoy!! also did tumblr remove yellow from the color choices? odd.

notes: gn!reader

Luffy

“Y/N! Check it-” With a kick, the Captain of the Straw Hat Pirates stepped into your office, holding a slab of meat. His excitement plummeted as his eyes fell on you. Your head was resting on top of stacks of papers, a quill in between your fingers. Your entire body was limp against the wooden desk in the corner of the room, the lamp above your head still burning bright. 

“Y/N?” Luffy walked closer to you, his sandals thudding against the planks below. He tapped your head, shaking your shoulder, until he could see the slightest movement coming from you. 

You shrugged Luffy’s hand off of you, forcing yourself to sit up. “Luffy?”

“Why’d you fall asleep?” A small frown appeared on Luffy’s face. You knew he didn’t like you overworking yourself and filling up your time with ‘boring stuff’.

“It’s just a nap. Promise.”

“Are you overworking yourself again?”

“N-No.”

“Y/N… I already told you. If there’s too much work for you, just tell me.”

“It’s fine, Luffy.”

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t want you to overwork yourself to the point you fall asleep. Come on.” Luffy shoved the meat into his mouth, his hands wrapped around your arms as he dragged you in the direction of your shared bed. Without much protest, your head was now resting on top of pillows, a soft blanket plastered on top of your body.

“Sleep. Okay? You better be asleep by the time I come back.” Luffy pointed a finger at your face. You let out a chuckle, nodding your head. 

“Thank you.” You whispered softly.

The corner of Luffy's mouth stretched up to his eyes. "I asked you to join because I wanted to go on adventures with you, Y/N, I didn't ask you to join my crew because I wanted to see you work until you fall asleep! Please take care of yourself, otherwise we can't go on adventures anymore."

Zoro

“Oi, Y/N, it’s my turn. You can go back inside.” Zoro climbed up the crow’s nest, getting ready for his shift of watching over the ship. When he got up there, he saw you curled up into a ball on the side, fast asleep. He stared at your figure for a moment, before climbing into the circular space next to you. He flicked your forehead, gently slapping your face, to no avail. You were dead asleep, a quill balancing in between your fingers. Zoro placed a hand on your arm, retracting immediately. You were freezing cold. 

“Tch. Falling asleep on the job.” Zoro crossed his arms, staring at your unconscious body, putting his swords aside as he surveyed the scene.The inside of the crow’s nest was littered with papers and notes, an empty bottle of ink haphazardly discarded on the side. Anger and annoyance clouded Zoro’s head, the urge to wake you up and scold you for prioritizing your work over the safety of everyone. But in the cold winter night, a drop of warmth entered Zoro’s heart as he stared at your curled up figure, shivering slightly, but still dead asleep. There were heavy eyebags visible on your face, your lips cracked. The veins on your hands were visible, bulging out at Zoro.

“Damn it.” Zoro scoffed, as he reached a hand out towards you, dragging your body closer to his. He propped you up against his chest, letting you use his body heat as a source of warmth in the cold night. “Always overexerting yourself, you idiot. Should’ve brought a jacket instead of your papers. Geez. Now I gotta take care of you.” 

You were still knocked out, head resting on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro let out a scoff, placing a hand around your shoulder, warming you up. “Tch.”

Sanji

Finally done with cleaning up the kitchen and preparing the next day’s meals, Sanji headed back to the bedroom you shared with him. He tried not to make as much noise as possible; at this time, you were most likely asleep already. He stepped into your room, closing the door as quietly as he could.

“Eh?” Sanji looked at the bed. The blankets were still neatly made from this morning, pillows organized with no wrinkles. He turned his attention towards your desk in the corner of the room, a small smile on his face. At least you didn’t go missing. You were dead asleep, head resting on your left arm, your right holding onto a quill. Sanji tiptoed over, examining your sleeping figure. 

My dear Y/N… Sanji sighed, plucking the quill out of your fingers. Without waking you up, his hands curled around your neck and the back of your knees. Without breaking a sweat, Sanji scooped you up, letting your head hit the pillow before the rest of your body was on the mattress. He draped the blanket over your body, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, my love.” Sanji whispered, before heading back over to your desk. He took a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he stared at the sea of papers and ink. As the moon itself was about to go to sleep, and the sun slowly woke up, Sanji stayed there, helping you organize all your work and sort out all your notes, filling out blanks you had left or letters you needed to write. He didn’t care if he lost some hours of sleep; in a few minutes, he’d have to ‘wake up’ to start prepping the next day’s meal anyways. As long as you were well rested and taken care of, Sanji didn’t care if he would have to lose hours of sleep. 

#one piece #op #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #monster trio #overworked #aetherasks

[mslanna]

Arguments

Chapter 3 of Be My Guest now up on AO3

Enrichment? In this enclosure? I think not. Still, it can't hurt to be a little soft.

"You will not enter the kitchen again." Raphael's verdict is final and Tav fumes.

They have been doing good work there. The Feast Hall is always packed with food that nobody eats. It makes sense to have the pieces nobody can reach replaced by dummies. It also makes sense to swap some items for stuff Tav likes and let them eat it at the end of the day before it goes bad. Not that anybody talks about the eating bit.

I to do in your presumptuous opinion?" Tav puts their hands on their hips, rising to full height. "You are dashing to and fro in your little war and I can't even change the menu?"

"It is not a little war." The devil's patience strains; he has more important things to do than argue with an unhappy human. Unfortunately, that human enabled his current sweep through Avernus. Zariel will fall first. And then – then the other rulers of hell would find themselves at his mercy. The future looks bright.

Raphael forces his thoughts back to the unpleasant present. The human still glares at him as if it was his fault they are stuck. Fury flares for a second. Two deals that irrelevant pup made, and neither with him. He feels a snarl rise, even though he knows that won't improve the situation any. But really, who is to blame?

"None of this would have happened, if you had just taken my deal."

"I didn't need your deal. I did great on my own."

"You broke into my House."

"You could just have let me go!"

"Have you listened to yourself recently?" Raphael spits. "Let me do whatever I please and then let me go scot-free and all will be fine."

"Oh no." Tav presses a hand to their heart. "I sound exactly like you. Don't like it? Better get rid of every mirror in this place."

"Be glad I do not cast you out," the devil growls. "The Crown of Karsus is mine. There is no changing that. The crusade against Zariel goes exceedingly well. Soon the other devils will fall in line. Isn't that what you counted on?"

"I am bored out of my skull here!"

"Well, leave," Raphael returns. "I am sure you won't have a thought to spare once my dear father gets his claws into you."

To his surprise, Tav actually turns on their heels and leaves. He watches them until they are out of sight. But the human is making a bee-line for the foyer. Raphael rumbles to himself. It is none of his business if the foolish mortal wants to risk their soul. Better Mephistopheles have theirs than his.

Memories from his short interlude at his father's mercy crash into Raphael like a wave. Yeah, definitely better anybody than him. Another memory stabs through the desperate pain. Tav. Standing before his father as if it meant nothing, negotiating for his life.

A frustrated grunt falls from his lips as he turns to follow the foolish human. Mephistopheles' whims are not something to wish on your worst enemy, much less somewhat of an ally.

He finds the foyer undisturbed. The circle into Baldur's Gate is not active. Maybe he is too late. Raphael takes a deep breath. And in the silence of the room, a small sob squeaks from behind one of the soul pillars. He tilts his head but there is no other sound. Just as Raphael turns to leave, the tiny noise repeats. High, and constricted as if somebody worked very hard on not letting it escape.

For a moment Raphael considers getting Haarlep and let the incubus deal with the problem. With a snap of his fingers, he turns into his human form. Less threatening, less aggressive. It may help to keep things calm. Raphael walks around the first pillar to finds the space behind it empty.

Tav wouldn't chose a place close to the doors to hide so he turns to the pillars framing the windows. Of course, the first he chooses to inspect is not hiding his paladin.

He finds them curled up around their knees behind the last pillar. Tav ’s body shakes violently and it looks eerie without any sound coming form the wretched creature. Tav doesn't notice the spectator, caught up completely in their misery.

"Listen."

Tav's head shoots up. They stare at the devil glaring down at them and try to scoot around the pillar.

"None of that now." Raphael crouches and ends their scrabbling with a firm grip on Tav's shoulder. "You didn't leave and I am grateful for that. You deserve better than eternal suffering at my father's hands."

Red rimmed eyes look at him. The whole face is red and somewhat soggy. But Tav's hands stay clutched around their ankles, a desperate attempt to protect themself. Raphael wants nothing more than to send them to clean up. Some bodily fluids are exquisite, but tears and snot are not. At least not when they don't come form some delicate from of torture.

"What do you want, Tav," he finally asks with a sigh. Deals are the easiest form to deal with people after all.

"I don't know." The words are small and despondent. "But there is nothing I can occupy myself with here. I am going crazy, Raphael. I am ready to bite the walls. I need something to do or I might just deliver myself to Mephistopheles out of desperation."

"And Haarlep is not a solution?" Raphael puts as much persuasion into the words as he can. Still Tav shakes their head.

"Haarlep is very single-minded and the one thing on their mind is sex." Tav sighs and releases their legs. "I need something to occupy my mind. And you are gone more often than here." A dry laugh wrings free from their lips.

"I have a war to lead," Raphael says softly. "What time I have is yours already."

"It is nothing."

"It is all there is." His words are firm.

"My day has so many hours. ” Tav leans back against the pillar and closes their red eyes. "So many hours, Raphael. I considered helping out your debtors."

"Please don't." The words come without thinking. But it gives the devil an idea. Somehow, some way he needs to find a way to utilise Tav. Anything within theses walls is a welcome change. He regards the paladin for a moment. "I will find you distractions if you will hold it together."

Tav sends him a tired look. "Deal."

Raphael smiles and stands. "Deal. Now get up and-" he trails off uncertain what the proper procedure is.

Tav helps out by reaching up with their hands. The devil takes them and pulls the human upright. For a moment, Tav simply regards their hands, not showing any signs of letting go. "I thought it would be easier," they admit without looking up.

"Noting is easy when devils are involved." Raphael raises Tav's chin with a finger. At least they try to smile. "A lesson you may want to learn quickly."

For a moment it seems as if Tav will lean into his chest. Raphael finds himself strangely disappointed when they pull back instead. But he rolls with it putting one hand on the small of their back to guide them back towards the house.

"Maybe I should just stop dealing with devils." Tav smiles lopsided. "When this is all over."

"I will hate to lose m favourite house guest. But am very open to welcoming my new favourite client."

Tav laughs. From the tear-streaked face it's a sad outburst. "You wish." The smile morphs into something more genuine.

"I plan," Raphael counters. "And that you brought me the Crown of Karsus from your own free will tells me that there is something to work with in here." He puts his index fingers against Tav's temple.

"Heh." For a moment Tav leans into the touch. “I thought you'd like me if I did that."

Tav doesn't notice that the devil, rooted to the spot, doesn't follow as they return into the House of Hope.

#bg3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #be my guest #chapter 3

[everystephoftheway]

camp cloudtop: chapter three

Fuck it, chapter 3 the same day as chapter 2. This can be found on ao3 as well.  

Having been educated mostly by tutors in the palace back home in Zephrah, Keyleth wasn’t personally familiar with the whole big group icebreaker concept. Her heart never stopped thumping against her ribcage as she had to reveal little bits about herself, some biographical and some entirely trivial; Scanlan did at least create some fun vehicles for this forced bonding session, and it became easier to ignore the nerves as she focused on what others divulged about themselves. 

After a rousing round of ‘Get to Know You Jenga’, Scanlan called the end of their time and the beginning of lunch. Their group left the auditorium and reunited with the other half of their staff cohorts in the cafeteria on the other side of the large main building. A food line was set up in the back, basking in sunlight from the wall of windows behind it. Several rows of bench seating lined most of the floor, a big tarp underneath to catch the debris of their future campers’ meals. 

Vax, Vex, and Percy surged forward, hunger fueling their desire to be as close to first in line as possible, while Keyleth lingered and ended up toward the back. Her arms laid casually against her chest, hands clasped together in front of her waist, thumb gently brushing her tattoo. 

“Is it your first year?” A smooth voice got her attention behind her, and Keyleth turned to see a tall guy with different colored eyes and wet, shaggy brown hair looking at her with a smile. 

She nodded. “You?” 

“Yeah. I’m Kash.” The name on his sticker read Kashaw, but Keyleth was happy to use nicknames. 

“Keyleth.” She pointed to the information underneath his name. “10-12 year old age group. That should be fun.”

“If by fun you mean a nightmare. I remember when I was that age. All I wanted to do was learn how to fight and not listen to any form of authority.” 

“Is it possible that it was just you that was the nightmare?” She shuffled forward along with the line, and Kash took a step so they were standing next to each other.

“No, I think all kids just suck at that age.”

That made Keyleth laugh. “If you don’t like kids why did you take this job?”

“Why does anyone take any job? Need to make money somehow. Why did you take this job?"

She shrugged her shoulders. “I never got to go to summer camp as a kid…And money is good.” 

Kash chuckled. “I did sleep-away camp, not this day camp stuff. I don’t really know why you’d do this over sleep-away camp.”

“Not everyone can afford sleep-away camp. Or some kids don’t like being away from home.”  

“Were you one of those kids?”

She shook her head. “My parents didn’t want me to go.” 

Kash nodded, glancing forward to see they were only a few people away from the food now. “Who’s your senior counselor?”

Keyleth scanned the crowd and found Vax sitting already, flanked–of course–by his sister and Percy. She pointed to him. “Vax’ildan.” 

“No, shit, really?” 

“Do you know him?”

“We were friends when we were younger. We hung out in the same group, his sister too. The two of them broke off on their own eventually. Seems like a consistent pattern with them.” 

“What do you mean?”

Kash shrugged. “Hopefully he doesn’t leave you with a group of kids all on your own when his sister comes calling.” 

Keyleth’s brow furrowed lower, eyes still watching the twins as they laughed and conversed over their lunch. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

Keyleth finally reached the food line, grabbed a little bit of everything, and found herself standing with her now full plate, unsure of where to go. She saw the trio and started to walk toward them, but as she did Vex glanced up. There was no sneer, no maliciousness in her gaze, but there wasn’t too much warmth either. 

“Hey, you wanna sit with me?” Kash came up behind her. “I’ll introduce you to Zahra, my partner in crime.” He flicked his chin to where a red tiefling with long, curled horns and white hair sat amongst some empty spaces. 

Keyleth smiled softly, shoulders relaxing. “Sure.” 

She followed Kash to the table, offering a pleasant hello to Zahra as they sat and settled, but what she didn’t see was how Vax’s eyes followed her, stuck to her back for the rest of lunch.

#critical role #critical role fic #vaxleth fic #vaxleth au #vaxleth #my fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #tlovm fic #camp cloudtop #i already have an outline for ch 4 but it'll probably be written tomorrow my brain's tired

[ender-baggins]

Okay my friends, does anyone else have, like, a little copy of each of the SPN characters in their heads? I don’t have every single one of them, but Sam and Cas and Dean are currently living in my brain and judging my music choices every time I decide to listen to something. Well, Sam and Dean are doing most of the judging. Cas is just reacting.

Also I can sorta put characters together and figure out how they would react to things. It’s easiest with Sam and Dean and Cas because I’ve got the best read on them, but I can sorta do it with other characters like Bobby and Charlie and Donna

#yeah I’m not crazy at all!! #supernatural #spn #castiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #living rent free in my mind #Dean would not choose to listen to most of my music but he’d like some of it and some would hurt him #I like stuff that curls up in the empty spaces in your heart and forces you to sit with the feelings #Dean does not like to sit with his feelings #Sam would hardcore judge my music tastes #Cas would probably enjoy some of my music #Ender’s musings

[captains-simp]

can you do a fic where reader unintentionally breaks one of the rules by accident so she has to be punished but the punishment is being ignored by BOTH wanda AND nat and reader is uncomfortable with being ignored because it makes her feel invisible and like she's a ghost so like this is what happens, reader breaks a rule in front of wanda and nat but reader doesn't realize she broke a rule but wanda and nat punish reader without telling reader first, and they punish her by not acknowledging her presence and stuff then reader just breaks and starts crying and stuff, she's really upset until nat and wanda cave in and see what's wrong with reader because they didnt know that reader didnt realize she broke a rule and her punishment was being ignored by them

also nat is dom, wanda is switch (like wanda is sub to nat but dom to reader) and reader is sub also nat, wanda and reader are in a poly dom/sub relationship and dating

Oh my god is this ✨smut with a developed storyline✨?

Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff ~ 3rd Wheel

Warnings: debatable toxic traits, feelings of abandonment and unlove, fingering, praise, oral and hints of overstimulation

2.4k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You giggled as Sam made stupid sound effects every time he paused in telling his story. You were pretty sure the story wasn’t true but hearing him tell it was entertaining enough. He put his hand on your forearm as he laughed at his own comeback to some apparently ‘very real’ character in the story and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. That was until your other arm was grabbed and pulled you to your feet. 

“It’s late, we should go.” Natasha said curtly. You nodded and said goodbye to Sam with a tight hug and followed after the Russian as Wanda joined her at her side. 

“How did your meeting go?” You teased the redheads. Officially, what you had just attended was a party. Unofficially, it was a chance for Natasha and Wanda to gather more intel for a future mission that they had been working on for months. Tony, to no one’s surprise, was more than happy to help by hosting the party and it was just like any other to everyone else. You had missed your girlfriend’s company at first, but had eventually started socializing with the others and the night had flown by. 

When you were met with silence you assumed you didn’t hear either of their responses over the music so you sped up your steps slightly to stick close by. Once you got to the car you knew they were in a bad mood. It was one thing when one of them was mad but both of them was a whole other storm. Not that it was always bad. Sometimes they would take that anger out on you in the bedroom and you had secretly been dying to be fucked like that for a while. 

You tried to make conversation a few times, telling the pair about Sam’s story and how it was probably about as real as fairies but they still didn’t respond. Of course, you had no idea that these things were just making them madder and that Wanda and Natasha were communicating silently most of the time, discussing the meeting as they ignored you. You gave up eventually and gazed out the window as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. 

Once you were home things only seemed to get worse. “I made dinner before we left.” You said as you looked under the grill to find that the three served plates were still fine and put them on the counter. You had cooked before getting ready because you knew your girlfriends were busy and were going to be hungry when they got home. You glanced at the two women to see Natasha undoing her girlfriend’s zipper and placing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades. You smiled at the tender site. 

“Hey, where’s my kiss?” You teased as Natasha started towards the bedroom but shouldered right past you. You looked to Wanda but she didn’t spare you a glance either as she strolled through the apartment to your shared bedroom. You watched them go with a dry mouth and dragged yourself to the bathroom where you struggled to undo the zipper of your dress before finally succeeding after five minutes of struggling and sore arms. One of the redheads usually did it for you before you could even think to ask.  

You stepped into the shower and tried to focus on the feeling of the hot water running down your body, hoping it would distract you from the dull ache near your heart. It didn’t work. You wondered if you had done anything to annoy them at the party but could think of nothing. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned off the water and stepped out of the safety of the shower. You quickly dried off and tiptoed to your now-empty bedroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you went back into the kitchen you found only one of the plates was left. You glanced over at the living area to see Wanda and Natasha curled up together on the couch under a blanket as they watched TV and ate the food you made. They could have at least warmed mine up. You grumbled to yourself as you put it in the microwave and made yourself a drink. You trudged over to the couch but Wanda extended her legs to cover the free space just as you were about to sit down. You looked up at them both but their eyes were still glued to the TV. 

You sat down tentatively on the armchair closest to the couch and started taking small bites of your food. You weren’t paying attention to the screen at all. Instead, your eyes kept flickering to the two redheads curled up on the couch together. They looked so warm and tender laying together. You wished so desperately you could be with them, but instead you just felt like an outsider. That had always been a big insecurity for you. Wanda and Natasha were both Avengers and you were just a normal citizen. You often wondered if you ever felt like a burden, the weak part of their relationship. You could never understand their lives the way they could, you could only watch. Usually, you would voice your concerns and insecurities to them and they would assure you to no end that they loved you more than anything. However speaking had gotten you nowhere that night, so you kept it to yourself. 

You sat in the living room for hours. You wanted to go to bed so badly. You were utterly exhausted and your eyes were starting to hurt from the lights in the room you wanted to be shielded from. But you were determined not to go until the other two did. You wanted to be curled up between them both like you always were. You wanted to feel safe and secure and most of all loved. 

Finally, Natasha turned off the television and stretched out like a cat on the couch before standing and making her way to the bedroom, leading Wanda by the hand. You put your uneaten plate of food on the side to deal with the next day, too tired to even think about it at that moment. The pair instantly dropped down into bed and Natasha held Wanda tightly as she rested her head on the Russian’s chest. You gazed down at them longingly but forced yourself into bed besides them. You reached out your hand to tug weakly on their shirts, desperate for any kind of acknowledgement but received none. You withdrew your hand and held it up to your chest as you watched the pair. How long had they been craving time to themselves? 

You slowly got out from under the covers and left the room without feeling their usual fond gazes on your back. You lingered in the hallway before glancing back and saw Natasha tracing circles on Wanda’s back. You gulped back tears and made your way to the spare bedroom where you slept alone for the first time in months. 

*

You didn’t get up until lunch the next day. You didn’t feel like doing anything, especially not facing your girlfriend. You wanted to stay out of their way to give them the alone time they so clearly needed.

When you had finally dragged yourself out of bed and into the hallway you froze. Wanda’s moans could be heard clearly from your bedroom followed by sharp cries of Natasha’s name. You stood rooted to the spot as the pain in your chest grew worse. Since they had so keenly invited you into their relationship. The pair had never once done anything sexual without you. At first you had been flattered and insisted that you were okay if they wanted to do things by themselves every once in a while but eventually you had grown used to how things were. You had grown used to being included in everything. 

Numbly, you made yourself a hot chocolate in hopes of it raising your spirits. Not long after you had finished, your girlfriends came wandering into the kitchen with a new glow. 

“Do you want a drink?” You piped up, you could at least be helpful. Wanda grabbed something from the fridge as Natasha took out a glass from the cupboard and spun around to kiss her girlfriend on the lips with a soft giggle. Wanda smiled against her and hummed when Natasha’s tongue teased the Sokovian’s lower lip. 

“I love you.” Natasha hummed and Wanda smiled with a blush as she said the words back. 

“I- I love you too.” You added and took a desperate step towards them both, holding out your hands to them but they separated and started to stroll back into the living room. You watched on as tears sprung to your eyes. They didn’t say it back. They always said it back. “Please.” You whispered though you may have well have been talking to a wall. You whimpered quietly and weakly made your way to the guest room where you closed the door and fell down onto the bed, not being able to stop the tears streaming down your face. You curled up on yourself and hugged your duvet as close to your body as possible, needing something to cling onto like a lifeline. 

You didn’t hear the door open through your muffled weeping. You did feel the gentle pair of hands on your waist and the dip in the bed either side of you. Your head shot up and you looked between the pair in panic, fearing they were going to tell you to go elsewhere for the day or even forever. Wanda shushed you softly and held your dampened cheeks in her hands. 

“It’s okay, honey.” Wanda cooed and you whimpered as you tried to enjoy what you assumed was the last time she would hold you. “We’re not going anywhere and neither are you.” You peered at her cautiously and then Natasha who nodded gently. 

“We’re sorry, baby. Sam was getting a little too handsy last night and you didn’t seem to notice.” Natasha explained carefully. You remembered the brief moment he had touched your waist and frowned at the memory. 

“And you know letting people touch what isn’t theirs is breaking a rule.” You nodded slowly as Wanda added on.

“So your punishment was being ignored by us so you could learn but we took it too far.” Natasha admitted.

“And we never told you what was happening. We’re so sorry we made you feel this way, sweetie. We love you so much.” Wanda said as she kissed you softly on the lips as Natasha lay down behind you and wrapped her arms protectively around your waist. 

“So so much.” She added. 

“Promise?” You asked and Wanda lay down to join you and wipe your tears away. 

“Always.” 

“Let us show you.” Natasha whispered against your neck and you nodded as she rolled you gently onto your back and began planting soft kisses along your neck, occasionally lingering on patches of skin to suck dark bruises into them. Wanda titled your head towards you and kissed you slowly, cherishing the taste of you and wanting to reclaim all that she could. 

Natasha’s hands started to wander down your stomach and landed at the hem of your sweatpants that she easily surpassed along with your panties. You gasped when you felt her fingers run along your folds and up to your clit. You bucked your hips and moaned against Wanda when she applied some pressure, all while the Sokovian started to retrace her girlfriend’s steps by running her hands across your breasts. Her thumbs brushed against your hardened nipples and she hummed against you. 

Natasha finally pushed two fingers past your folds and relished in the slick that coated them instantly. She curled them gently inside you and withdrew to start about making a consistent pace that had you melting beneath them both. 

“That’s it, sweetie.” Wanda assured in the most loving tone you had ever heard from her. 

“Taking me so well. Our best girl.” Natasha hummed and withdrew her fingers. You whined softly but shushed when Natasha brought her fingers up to Wanda’s lips and slid them inside. The Sokovian hummed in delight around Natasha’s fingers, eagerly licking her slender digits before retreating to start down your body, determined to gain an unfiltered taste. 

Wanda pulled your sweatpants and panties off completely and kissed up your thighs softly, taking her time in treasuring you just as Natasha had done with your neck. She gleamed at the sight before her and didn’t hesitate to lick a long strip between your folds. You mewled in Natasha’s hold as Wanda moaned against you. “Always so sweet.” She dipped her tongue inside of you and you clenched around her muscle with a gasp.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for us.” Natasha praised softly as she started to rub your clit with her free hand. You bucked against both their movements, feeling beautifully overwhelmed by it all. Wanda’s tongue flicked inside you and you moaned loudly into the air, tempting Natasha to quieten you with a kiss while your other girlfriend continued to work between your legs that were beginning to shake. 

“Please.” You whined as you felt your high approaching. The pair smiled at one another as they continued to please you. 

“I can feel you clenching my tongue.” Wanda mused.

“Go ahead and cum for us, baby.” You did as you were told without a second’s delay. You moaned loudly into the air as you shuddered against the bed and came undone on Wanda’s tongue. The pair helped you ride out your high and into another orgasm relentlessly. They didn’t let up, making you cum again and once more, leaving you feeling utterly exhausted and overworked. 

“That’s it, darling. You did so good for us.” Wanda praised as she fell down besides you and they both held you protectively. 

“We love you.” Natasha muttered softly and you smiled.

“I love you both too.” You hummed, enjoying the warmth of your girlfriends’ comfort.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Taglist: @freewaysigns-underpasses @caroldanvers2 @marvelwomenslut @marvelwomen-simp @likefirenrain @grxvitye @emilyprentisslittlewhore @lostandsearching @firenrain13 @horcruxhunter90 @mrs-avenger3000 @nightingalxx @sky-kim-00 @yeeterthekeeper @didujustcallmedumb @ymzki-haruki @uno-x-uno

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[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,”

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi #takami keigo #bnha smut #mha smut #aaaaaah fucking MONSTER #anywayyy cant wait to hear what u all think!!! #dabi don't get mad at me i lost track of time editing n i've been real good going to bed on time #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw daddy kink #tw drugs #tw:abuse

[bigilante]

〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

#zendaya x reader #zendaya x you #zendaya imagine #zendaya fanfic #wlw fanfic #softfics #angst to fluff #gender neutral reader

[duskamethyst]

love.

a/n: happy valentines day! have this spicy content for now but if you’re looking for high-cocky bastard-suna, this ain’t it. sorry.

word count: 2.3k

genre: smut, nsfw, fluff

warnings: soft dom, orgasm denial

pairing: pro!suna x f!reader

summary: suna got you a gift for your anniversary. wonder why he likes it so much..

“hm? a bracelet?” you take out the shiny jewelry out from the crimson box, inspecting it in your hands. there’s a letter ‘R’ that gleams with its rhinestones and a bell that chimes as you jiggle it. 

“close,” your boyfriend smiles when he catches the fascinated look on your face. “it’s an anklet.”

suna takes the ornament from you and drops down to his knees to fasten it around your ankle. he takes a good look at it, pondering briefly over how he made a good choice to get it for you as an anniversary gift. 

you look over your ankle intriguingly, shaking it slightly to hear the bell ring in response. 

“it’s so pretty!” you beam excitedly and kiss him in thanks as he raises back up on his feet. “then you have to put on the perfume i gave you too.”

suna raises an eyebrow, “perfume?”

“shit–” your hand flies over to cover your mouth instantly by reflex and you shake your head. “i didn’t say that.”

your boyfriend laughs as he takes the nicely wrapped present and shakes it in a feigned attempt to figure the not-so-mysterious content, “gee, i wonder what it could be.”

“oh, i don’t know. guess you have to find out.” you reply in the same sardonic tone, suppressing giggles as you watch him rip off the paper unceremoniously. 

suna blinks once, twice at the box and glances at you before looking back at the box that is engraved with a name that he’s aware to be high end. he’s not very materialistic but he knows for sure that it costs more than you can afford for yourself and the thought of you forking out so much money on it makes his heart swell. 

“well?” you grin sheepishly as you wait for him to say something. 

“babe, this is..” he sighs, brushing a hand through his brown locks. “how did you even–”

“don’t mind that! put it on!” you chide.

suna shakes his head and chuckles as he opens the packaging to pull out the expensive bottle. he takes off the lid and takes a whiff of the manly scent, yet has no idea what the contents are. he guess he should wear it often if you like the scent so much, especially since you’re the one who chose it for him. he sprays the cologne on his wrist and rubs it with the other before applying it on the back of his ears.

you don’t remember how many bottles it took to find the one that you absolutely would like on him but you know you’ve made the right choice when the aroma has proven to suit his character very well; sexy and alluring.

“you smell so fucking good.” you sigh in content as the scent begins to fill your senses.

“is this your way of saying that i always stink?” he forces an offended frown but the slight upturn at the corner of his lips tells you it's only superficial. 

“yeah, you reek. especially after your practice.” you tease before suna envelops you into a warm hug. 

“but i won’t wear it to practice.” he mutters as he caresses your hair gently. “it’s a waste if the guys are the only ones who are going to smell it.”

“that’s fine. you can always wear it around me.”

suna pulls away to look at you, blankly staring at you with his dark and narrow eyes. “and, you shouldn’t be giving me expensive stuff. i won’t even mind if you didn’t get me anything. you’re more than enough for me.”

“but–” 

“no buts.” he places a small kiss on your lips. “still, thank you for this.”

you smile and counter back with a kiss, “happy anniversary, rin. i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he taps your nose with his finger before picking you up off your feet and cradling you in his arms, making you squeal in surprise. “now that we’re done with that, time to put that to the test.” 

“put what to the test?” you look up at him with curiosity as he carries you towards your shared room, leaving the empty plates of your homemade dinner behind. 

“why do you think i got you something with a bell on it?” he grins slyly before throwing you on the bed and causing the bell around your ankle to chime from the result of the impact. 

warmth creeps up to your cheeks as you put one and one together, “you wouldn’t..” 

“oh, yes i will.” suna climbs on top of you, pale yellow irises swirling like flames as he gazes deeply into your eyes before leaning down to slip his tongue past the barrier of your lips in an amorous kiss. your hands find their way to his nape, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

suna swallows down your moans as he hastily works on taking off all his lower garments and grinds his erection against your sex, soothing the throb that he has been keeping inside his pants the moment he put on the ornament around your ankle since his mind just kept on wandering at the thought of how he has been wanting to put it on to good use. 

he breaks the kiss to plant wet, soft kisses down your throat, suckling and nibbling on the sensitive skin that he knows will have you whining underneath him while his large, calloused hands massages your mounds through the flimsy dress. 

“you’re so pretty,” he whispers against the crook of your neck as tugs down the straps off your shoulders and lets it fall on your arms. “i love you so much.”

with a little maneuvering of your arms, you manage to slip out from the band and allow suna to pull down the dress completely. your nipples harden from the cold air yet they find heat once he wraps his lips around one, tongue dancing and circling around the erected tit while he tweaks the other between his thumb and index finger that sends jolt of sensations down to your bundle of nerves.

your lips part in soft, heavy pants while your fingers seek refuge in his dark hair by tugging it lightly before he pulls away with an audible pop to suck on the other. his hand trails down on your inner thigh, drawing circles with his fingertips on the erogenous zone and purposely avoiding from tracing closer to your heated core. 

“rin.” you whine while the bell resounds from underneath as you part your legs wider and buck your hips reflexively. 

“hmm?” narrow, hooded eyes look up at you mischievously from below. suna unlatches his mouth, watching as the nipple perks up harder and becomes more swollen from his ministrations. “you’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

you feel your cheeks warm up, “i don’t know, why don’t you get down and see for yourself?”

“whatever you say, princess.” he chuckles and shifts downwards until his head is settled in the space between your thighs.

“shit, you’re really a mess down here.” he muses, thumb grazing against the dark patch that has formed on the thin fabric. “all from me just sucking your tits?”

suna tugs the sodden garment down, tongue darting out to sweep his bottom lip as his eyes dissolve into red of passion and lust. it’s more intense than you imagined, but an impassioned loop twists in your stomach as you study his next, calculated step. 

shivers of pleasure rushes throughout your body the moment you feel his warm tongue flattening against your wet slits. with skills and practiced strokes, his tongue laps off your slick greedily before teasing and sucking on the throbbing clit. your toes curl and the bell rings as you attempt to close your legs together, but suna spreads them apart from crushing his head.

his lustful gaze fixes up at you, observing every twitch of pleasure and the way your lips part in soft, needy whimpers. you gasp at the abrupt intrusion of his long and slender fingers, yet you gladly welcome him as the muscles clench to keep him within.

“does it feel good?” he whispers, kissing the soft skin of your fleshy thigh when he notices your legs tremble. 

“s-so good, rin.” you mewl, nails digging into the sheets while the fabric crumples in your fists as you find purchase. his fingers curl and drag against the spongy walls, making you keen in excitement that your hips begin to pump desperately to match his rhythm. 

“you’re so needy.” a sense of pride soars in his chest, conscious of how much your pleasure lies in him and only him. he continues rubbing and digging, somewhat in search of something; certainly the spot that he’s aware that’ll make you beg for him hopelessly. and when he finds it, he doesn’t miss the way you tense up and giving him the drive to stroke the same spot mercilessly. 

“shit– right there!” you look like you’d almost cry. the way your hips are jerking uncontrollably is telling him that you’re going to break soon and before that happens, suna draws away his fingers and you immediately throw a scowl his way. 

“what?” his voice is taunting and he wears a smirk of a victor which makes you all the more frustrated. 

you huff, “so mean. on our anniversary night, too.” 

suna lifts himself off you to get out of his shirt. no matter how much you’ve seen him bare and naked, your eyes always marvel over his toned chest and chiseled abs; those he gained along by being a professional athlete since a couple of years ago. you lick your lips to return moisture on dry skin as you watch him pump his throbbing cock in front of you while he puts on an expression of bold seduction.

“you don’t have to look so scared. you wanted to cum so bad, didn’t you?” he sneers, obviously confident over how thick his cock is and how it can stretch your tiny little hole so good.

you roll your eyes playfully, retorting in a snarky tone, “oh, i’m so scared. please don’t put that thing inside me!”

his lips curl into an amusing smile, finding it endearing how you played along with his pretense. “don’t worry, i’ll treat my princess very gently.” 

suna leans down to lick a fat strip of your essence and mixes with his saliva before propping up on his knees and dragging your body closer to him by the waist. he carefully throws the leg adorned with his gift on his shoulder and kisses on the side of your knee before fixing his dark gaze downwards, where he slowly guides and observes the way his cockhead slowly disappears into your dripping entrance. 

a low grunt rumbles in his chest as the walls suck him in deeper, clamping around him like a vice and refusing to let go as he continues to bury his cock deeper inside your pussy. your eyes flutter close, lips part slightly as you revel the way he stretches you while the veins and ridges brush against your muscles deliciously. 

“so good for me, princess.” he praises with a sharp breath, having you completely filled to the brim before he finally snaps his hips and making your body jolt in return. his pace is unforgiving and with the angle he has set you in, his tip keeps on pounding against your cervix. 

the slapping of your skins fills the cold air, mingling with the sounds of your moans and the erratic chimes from your bell that he was so eager about. an unknowing grin etches on your lover’s lips as every jingle that fills his ear fuels up his ego and he finds himself to pound into you faster while the sounds behind him follow in accordance.

“hah– rin– so deep!” your orgasm is quick to build up from the prior interruption, the muscles in your stomach begins to tighten and your legs quiver. 

“you hear that, baby? the bell telling you how hard i’m fucking you right now.“ he rams his cock senselessly to make the bell jingle wilder in a way to prove his point.

“rin– i–” 

“baby wanna cum?” he coos, smirking down at you as the image of your writhing body ingrains in his mind.

you nod your head affirmatively, face contorting in one that expresses bliss as your mind swirls with excessive gratification. yet your eyes snap open as soon as you feel a sharp sting on your thigh. 

he releases the pliant skin from between his teeth, “use your words, princess.” 

“please–” you let out a broken cry. “wanna cum–” your toes curl with anticipation as you will yourself from coming undone before you are granted to do so.

“that’s– fuck– better.” he grunts, thrusts turning sporadic as you begin to squeeze and clamp down on him. “then cum, baby. you deserve it.”

suna brings up his thumb to your aching bud, generously pressing tight circles in order to push you over the edge and a wave of pleasure washes throughout your body as you moan his name in a chant. your pussy gushes around his cock, which makes it all more stimulating for the male and he pounces harder through your high in pursuit of his own orgasm while the noisy rings from the bell soon becomes white noise.

“that’s it– you feel so fucking good.” he feels his balls tightening before his cock twitches and he bites roughly on your leg as he shoots warm load inside your tight cunt. you squeal from the pain, wiggling your leg away and he completely lets go. 

he chuckles lightly and gently rubs the dents on your skin, “sorry.” 

once he’s sure he has emptied, he pulls out his softening cock and finds his place next to your warm body. you turn to face your lover and he gladly welcomes you into his warm embrace. 

“i love you.” he whispers, pushing aside the damp and matted hair from your face to place a soft kiss on your forehead. 

you hum in content, vision darkening as he continues to play with your hair soothingly while the sound of his heartbeat sings you a lullaby. “i love you, too.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

#suna #suna rintaro #rintaro suna #suna rintarou #rintarou suna #haikyuu suna #suna smut #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fanfic #suna fanfic #r; writes

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (1)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: heavy focus on Bucky’s PTSD/anxiety, the first splinter in the wall around Bucky’s heart 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

This was a bad idea. A monumentally bad idea.  

Bucky closed his apartment door behind him, pausing for a moment at the top of brownstone steps as a chill of autumn air swept by. Brittle to the touch, cool on his skin, it nestled into his spine and ached deep in his bones— in ones that had been long abandoned, too. The sun reflected against the shine of the pavement from last night’s rainfall, forcing Bucky to squint his eyes.  

Was it always so bright outside? Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t left his apartment for nearly a week before Sam threatened to turn him over to Steve that he’d forgotten how unpleasant the streets of New York could be. Loud. Cold. Chaotic.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, slipping out of the path of a jogger who nearly ran him over and had the gull to flip him the bird. Bucky groaned, curling his right hand into a fist and digging it deep into his pocket as he tried to calm the sudden racing in his chest. The free arm of his army jacket swung down by his left side, empty.  

Not even a few steps outside the sanctuary of closed curtains, warm bedsheets, and the unattended static of a decade old television, and Bucky was already regretting ever knowing Sam Wilson.  

Bucky turned towards the busy street ahead, staring up at the hustle of pedestrians and rush of taxis for a moment longer before he dared to take a step. His feet felt remarkably heavy and he had more than half a mind to tell Wilson to shove it and head back up to his apartment. He had better things to do than make a completely unnecessary trip to the VA.  

What those things were, he couldn’t say, but they didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to beat straight out of his chest. He could stare at a wall for a few hours, for example – see if he could find the crack in the drywall again and follow it to the ceiling.  

“Don't be a coward, Barnes,” Bucky grumbled to himself, earning a strange look from an elderly woman as she passed by. Her eyes held on him longer than she should; clearly a woman who had little shame in her degradation of strangers. 

He gritted his teeth and commanded his legs to move. Those worked, at least.  

As he made his way to the main street, his palm started to sweat inside his pocket. He could see his breath in every tense exhale, and still, he was boiling hot under his jacket. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d remove it, because even with a sleeve hanging loose off his shoulder, he could at least keep up the pretense there was something inside. People would have to look twice before they realized. Wasn’t so easy to hide a missing arm in a short sleeve shirt.  

Still—he was thankful as he weaved his way upstream through the crowd that he wasn’t as broad as he used to be. A couple months' worth of weight loss, diminished muscle mass, and one less limb will do that do a guy.  

He used to be the sort of man that women would glance at as he passed by. Charming smile. Infectious energy. He could make a woman bite shamelessly at the edge of her bottom lip with a single trail of his eyes along her figure. Extend a hand, offer a drink and a dance. He used to hold confidence in every ounce of his body.  

Now, he kept his eyes on the pavement. He hid from the sun and the curious looks of strangers under the brim of a baseball cap. No one looked twice in his direction. He was invisible these days and that was just the way he liked it.  

By the time he reached the VA, he was surprised to find it a little less than pristine. The windows were dirty with handprints and smudges, the window panes covered in soot. A few of the roofing panels were missing from harsh New York winters. Even some of the outer brick wall had seen some weathering.  

Though, if he were honest, it wasn’t usual at all. Made some sense that the VA was left to wash and wear on its own, deteriorating in front of a busy street of onlookers, right out in plain sight. It was how Bucky felt after he’d come home from his last tour— discarded. Placed upon a pedestal, but only as long as you wear the uniform, only as long as you’re staring down the other end of a barrel. Once you’re shipped back home and cast out from desert, you’re made to fend for yourself. Pull up your bootstraps. Adjust.

Bucky wasn’t sure how to do that anymore. Sam insisted this would help. The people at the VA were good, he’d said. They were like him. They’d understand.  

While Bucky was suspicious, it was enough to drag him a couple blocks from his apartment. It was more than he’d done in weeks anyway. Sam would put on his makeshift shrink hat and call that a meaningful step. Bucky would call it pathetic.  

He stared at the double doors, focusing on dark red rust on the metal hinges. He wondered if he put enough pressure on the latch if it would snap clean off. It looked sharp on the edges, too. Someone could easily cut themselves on it if they weren’t careful—

BEEEEEEP!

A jolt surged through Bucky’s chest enough to nearly knocked him off his feet.  

Sudden flashes of a sweltering heat, the unnatural vibration of the desert under his feet. The car horn echoed into the back of his head, longer than it should have, and his ears started to ring. His vision felt tunneled and Bucky quickly stumbled his way through the double doors just to escape the blare of the horn outside.  

It took a minute to adjust to the dim lighting. It was darker inside than what he was expecting. He blinked a few times, hand resting on the wall to hold his balance as he looked around, shaking himself from the memories.  

Lamps were spread throughout the common room to offset the abrasive overhead lighting left untouched. Bucky started to wonder if he maybe it was on purpose, if he wasn’t the only one who had become sensitive to these things, when Sam walked into the room.  

He froze.  

“Holy shit!” Sam’s mouth rose up into that goddamn know-it-all smile, wide enough to show teeth and the dimples in his cheeks, and Bucky winced. Sam started to laugh as he crossed the space to where Bucky was standing. “I didn’t think you’d actually come!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugged, “I’m here. Don’t make this a big thing.”

“Who me?” Sam scoffed, feigning offense. “You know Steve’s the one who’s going to blow this up. He might throw a welcome party if you ever show up to the support group.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s not happening.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Sam nodded, though he was still smiling. He looked almost... proud? It didn’t sit well in Bucky’s stomach. “Still, got you out of that cramped apartment, didn’t I? You open those curtains yet or are you still living like a vampire?”

Bucky glared at him. Sure, Sam was right... but he didn’t need to know that.  

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Sam put a hand on Bucky’s back to guide him down the hall.  

He was only one of two people Bucky tolerated touching him at all and he was lucky he didn’t flinch anymore. Even an innocent touch from his own mother when she tried to hold his hand after he came back from his final tour had nearly left him in a panic attack. She’d cried as Bucky desperately tried to gather his breath, shoving her away as if she’d burned him.  

Sam and Steve didn’t give him much of a choice. They didn’t handle him with kid gloves or treat him like he was about to break. Even if he was splintering at the seams, you’d never be able to tell with how Sam and Steve were around him; like old times, like nothing had changed, like they were still three kids dressed in fresh uniforms with chips on their shoulders and a whole new world ahead of them.

After a while, the small pats on the back and the nudges in his side became a small comfort; not that he’d tell them. It was a strange feeling to both be repulsed by touch and crave it. But the topic didn’t come up much these days outside of his friends anyway. No one tried to touch him and he didn’t seek it out. It was easier that way.  

“The kitchen’s over here,” Sam said as he pointed into a room that had likely once been covered in white tiles and appliances, though now resembled more of a pale yellow. Two men were hunched over at the table, nursing coffee out of Styrofoam cups as a woman waited eagerly by a toaster.  

“Everything in there is free rein,” Sam added. “Always stocked with food from donations, though I would make sure to check the expirations on the milk before adding it to your coffee.” He shivered at an unpleasant memory and Bucky found the edge of his mouth curl, though he suppressed it rather quickly. 

The next room was mostly empty save for the wooden lined floors and chairs folded up against the wall. A sheet covered the small window peering inside that read ‘group in session when closed.’

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sam started, to which Bucky narrowed his eyes, “but I’m not going to force you into the support group, Buck. You go when you’re ready. If you ever are. Talking about this stuff, or even listening to it... it isn't for everybody. Steve will get that, too. We all find our outlets eventually. You’ll find yours, too.”  

Bucky nodded, a swell of relief in his chest. He’d been forced into a mental evaluation by the army docs shortly after his discharge; something about routine testing, but he knew what they were looking for – what all those shrinks were looking for – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  

The nightmares came first, soon after he’d returned to the States. It started in screams that burned deep into his throat, waking up neighbors at two in the morning, finding blood in his bed from injuries he’d caused in his sleep. Lately they’d manifested into sweat drenched in his sheets and a heart rate that couldn’t seem to even out until the sun rose.  

Then came the jumpiness – the flinching at every loud noise, thinking it was a bomb or the latch of a safety. He’d broken more glasses than he cared to admit, knocking them straight of his hand at the sound of a gunshot on the television.  

Then the paranoia settled in, then the hypervigilance. The anxiety in crowds and tight spaces was new, though. Add it to the list, he supposed.  

Through all of it, he never let the shrink catch on. He’d put on a smile and tell them he was proud of his service, that he’d serviced his country with honor and he was thankful to return to the civilian side of things for a change.  

It was bullshit.  

He was pissed. He lost an arm and half his mind to a war that recruited him young and idealistic right out of high school, when he was looking for a better life than what his neighborhood could offer, to put food on the table for his ma and sister. Pissed was understated.  

He wouldn’t find himself in Steve’s group; of that he was certain. You don’t talk about those things after you leave the desert. Hell, you barely acknowledge them while you’re there. It’s just how it works. It’s how you deal with it. Bucky didn’t allow himself to consider whether his method was doing him much better.

Sam walked him through the common areas, the lounge space, even a room with a pretty decent sized television and a shelf filled with DVDs. It was a nice enough place. Quiet. But so was his apartment.  

“Now this is the best room in the house.” Sam opened a door on his left, the hinges squeaking under an old wooden frame as he stepped inside.  

Bucky followed in closely behind and was surprised when a subtle scent of pine brushed his senses. A small candle was burning at the center of a coffee table, surrounding it were a few couches, all with mismatched fabrics, laid upon a carpet that looked to have been donated from an estate sale. The walls around him were lined with shelves, though they were completely empty. Cob webs hung in the corners and dust lined the wood.  

What caught his eye was a single cart at the edge of the room. It was filled with books, all in bright colors on the binding and tags from the Brooklyn Public Library piled high on top of one another, far beyond the confines of the cart itself.  

“Y/n? Where you at, kid? We got a newbie!” Sam called, nudging Bucky in the side with a playful wink he did not return.  

A figure suddenly jumped from behind the couch with a book in hand covered in layers of dust and crumbs. The sudden movement forced a flinch deep in Bucky’s chest, his breath held tight in his lungs, though he kept himself firm on the surface, like stone. It took a minute before he realized how tight he’d barreled his fist and he slowly released his grip before Sam could notice.  

“Been looking for this one for over a year!” you exclaimed, holding up the book for Sam to see. You brushed off the cover, restoring the original vibrant hue of the artwork. “Can’t even imagine the overdue fees I’ve racked up on this sucker...”

There was a strange lightness in your voice Bucky didn’t expect, a tenderness and a sunshine that didn’t belong amongst the dark overcast of the men and women who occupied these rooms. It certainly sat in dangerous contrast to the gravel and stone in Bucky’s voice and the clouds that usually followed in his wake.

He glanced down at his clothes as you approached; a pair of old ripped jeans from a few years ago, a faded t-shirt, and his army jacket hung over his shoulders. Dull and raggedy, ripping at the seams.

But you? Dressed in the warmest shade of a red knit sweater, a gentle glow on your cheeks, a softness about your movements, you resembled the sort of sunset at the end of a highway one would stop the car to capture on film. Inviting. Tender and ethereal. Lovely.  

You stepped closer and he noticed the knees of your jeans were covered in dust, your palms too. Messy in the pursuit of happiness, like a child on a playground. You didn’t seem to mind the dust as you brushed it off your knees, holding the found book close to your chest like an extension of your own heart.

“Blame it on Lang. He's always losing stuff around here,” Sam offered as you set the book on the cart. You started to laugh and swatted Sam in the arm. A pout perched on your lips, though it didn’t seem to last long. Your laugh was infectious.  

Bucky swallowed as he watched you; the way your smile wrinkled up into your eyes as if a face like yours was drawn and designed to curve at the lips and push dimples to your cheeks. It shined into the bright hues in your irises and Bucky wondered if you would keep smiling like that forever, if it were possible that he could stare into the sun and not be burned; if instead, he could find warmth in its embrace.  

His heart stammered, his breath shallow, but it wasn’t unpleasant like it had been on the busy streets. It was something new, a sensation he hadn’t had since before he signed his name to a cause that took his arm and his dignity.  

Y/n, Sam had called you. It was a beautiful name. He didn’t know if he could even find things beautiful again after what he’d seen overseas. You were the first, he supposed.  

He must have been staring too long, because your lips were moving to words he didn’t hear, and suddenly two pairs of eyes were on him. His heart skipped, frozen in embarrassment.  

“This must be your first day of school,” you teased, extending your right hand to him.  

Bucky stared down at it, heart pounding, and before Sam could politely tell you that Bucky didn’t really do that sort of thing, he pulled his hand from his pocket and shook it. You had a firmer grip than he was expecting, but still soft. Your fingers were like ice and it was a nice contrast to the swelter he felt under his jacket.  

Sam raised an eyebrow, surprised by Bucky's sudden willingness to take the hand of a stranger, though thankfully he didn’t say anything. A shit eating grin curved up upon his lips and that, Bucky could have done without.  

“Thought it was time I checked it out,” Bucky said, his voice a little dry. You let go of his hand and Bucky found he missed the contact almost instantly.  

“Dragged him here by the skin of his teeth is more like it,” Sam interjected and Bucky’s ears burned red. He shot Sam a glare, who only shrugged, unbothered by his humiliation of his friend. “Been trying to get his sorry ass through the door for a few months now.”

You nodded, though your smile never wavered. Your eyes remained on Bucky, listening to Sam, but intently studying the lines on Bucky’s face. It left him feeling exposed, but somehow, even as his own gaze trailed to the floor, he didn’t mind you watching him like that, like maybe you found worth in what you saw. He adjusted his stance, suddenly remembering the startling absence on his left.  

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” you said, brushing Sam off in his teasing. “I’ve been volunteering at this place for a little over a year. We got good people here. I’m sure you’ll fit right in...” you paused, biting on your lip.  

“Bucky,” he offered because he could tell you were waiting for it. You smiled at his name and a sense of pride burned bright in his chest. God, if he could just make you smile like that again...

“Bucky’s a cool name,” you grinned, though Sam rolled his eyes. “That short for something?”

“Don’t lie to the new kid, Y/n. We all know it’s corny as hell,” Sam interrupted playfully before Bucky could get a word in. You wacked Sam on the shoulder and Bucky felt the edges of his lips curve. It felt strange, achy, like he hadn’t done that in a while. Maybe he hadn’t.  

“Buchanan,” Bucky answered, though he quickly added, “but my first name’s James. James Barnes.”

“Well, James Barnes,” you started, exchanging a knowing look with Sam that made Bucky’s stomach twist in knots, “I run a book club of sorts on Sunday evenings around six. You should swing by. We’re always looking for new members.”

“Y/n works at the Brooklyn library most days,” Sam explained. “We’re lucky to have her. Never thought I’d see so many tattooed men with biceps the size of my head sitting in a circle talking ‘bout books, but Y/n works magic. Everyone loves her. Helps that her book club is pretty unconventional.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Unconventional?”

Sam started to say more, but you pouted your lips at him and he left the words on the edge of his tongue. He held up his hands in defense and took a step back, returning the smile to your face.  

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, laughing so sweetly Bucky was sure his knees might give out at any second. “It’s a good time, I promise. No pressure at all.”

Bucky nodded, considering his options. The idea of seeing you again could make the walk down to the VA worth it, but he wasn’t sold on the concept of sitting in a room full of ex-combat vets probably using a shared book as a proxy for a support group. He wondered if you had them reading something about PTSD or adjusting to civilian life or a memoir of some guy embellishing his time overseas to make a quick buck.  

But he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, so he asked, “what are you reading?”  

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”  

Bucky raised an eyebrow, confused.  

“Just think about it,” you suggested as you unclicked the lock at the bottom of the cart. The front wheel was broken and you struggled to get an angle to move in the direction you pushed it. “I should head back to the library. It was really nice to meet you, Bucky. I’ll see you later, Sam.”

Bucky nodded, finding himself searching for something else to say, some kind of excuse to get you to stay longer, but came up empty. You smiled at him, all bright and starry eyed, and his knees felt weak again. Shit.  

“Don’t let Stark talk your ear off on the way out,” Sam warned, a laugh in his voice.  

“I think I know my boys around here by now, Samuel,” you teased back. Bucky couldn’t quite tell if it was a pang of jealousy in his stomach or an eagerness to be included. It was a strange rush of feelings he hadn’t tapped into in years; not necessarily unpleasant, but certainly unfamiliar.  

You paused by the door, turning back and capturing Bucky’s eye one last time. “Sunday at six, alright? I’ll see you there.”

He didn’t say anything, but you seemed to take his silence as confirmation. You gave him a final wave before you disappeared into the hallway. He could hear the click of the broken front wheel on your cart echoing down the hall.  

Bucky and Sam followed you out of the room and hung back by the makeshift library doors.  

“What did I tell you!” Sam cheered, nudging Bucky hard enough on the side to knock him off his balance. He was too fixated on watching grumpy old men and stone-faced women pass by in the hallway with smiles on their faces as they saw you.  

“It’s, uh, it’s not bad.” Bucky waited until you disappeared out the front doors and onto the busy sidewalks before he turned to Sam. He was watching him with a sort of I-told-you-so look that made Bucky want to slap the dimples straight from his face. “...what?”

“Nothing, man.” Sam shrugged, though there was something lingering in the smirk he wore, like maybe he knew something Bucky didn’t.  

He didn’t care for that one bit.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

[yandere-vale]

Yandere Queen Glimmer Headcanons.

Warning: Normal Yandere stuff and some mention of non-con nsfw stuff. It's yandere so you all know it's gonna get pretty bad right?

"After I lost my mother..I thought I wouldn't feel that warmth of love again. But with you, with you that feeling just swells and swells hotter and hotter!"

From the moment Glimmer met you, she's been head over heels for you. Glimmer is obsessed and wants to spend time fawning over you or playing with your hair even if you find her attention a bit much at times. But she's way to happy and joyful to tell her off so you let her have her way. Her touches are always soft and gentle, making sure to never apply to much pressure even if her hands linger longer then you think they should. At first it was nice, but now you can't help but hold back shivers at how uneasy she was making you, Not that she could see that.

"Hey Y/n?, you are truly important to me you know? It makes me so happy to have met you that my heart skips beats. Is it not the same for you?"

You want to keep Glimmer happy right? She is the Queen after all. So why is it that you feel like she talks to you like you're a child sometimes? You've brought it up but she never falters in the way she speaks to you, apologising and doing it again anyways.

"Why aren't you wearing your necklace Y/n dear? I bought it just for you sweetheart because of how cute it looks on you, did you really not like it? If you don't wear it then that will make me so sad, understand Y/n? So I need you to turn right back around and head back to your room and put it on for me okay?"

Glimmer would do anything for you, she'd also get anything for you. Anything you want she'll get it for you, anything to make you smile. Please smile for her again? She doesn't like that sad look on your face you've been keeping the longer your 'stay' with Glimmer has been.

"Hey Y/n? Why aren't you saying anything darling? Y/n? No, no you aren't allowed to do this again. Y/n no. We are not having a replay of last time, we talked about this didn't we? You need to be a big girl and use your words when you want to tell me something. I want to hear your voice darling, please? Please Y/n? Just talk to me. You can't just keep refusing to talk to me! I've been trying really hard to let you have your time to adjust but you keep pushing me away. What do I need to do to get you to accept me?! Y/n, why can't you just accept my love for you? Why do you always make this so hard?"

Glimmer never lets you sleep alone even when she's had to punish you for something, she'll always expect you to fall asleep where she can be touching you. Glimmer is a serious cuddler and always wants to have her arms wrapped around. Always sleeps with you as the small spoon even if you protest and holds tighter if you try and wiggle free. If you still resist then she'll take it upon herself to help you rest.

"Why are you wiggling around so much Y/n? Why are you not asleep yet? Does my baby girl have a little case of hysteria again? Oh? Oh that's funny, you've gone really quiet all of a sudden and won't face me anymore~ Turns out you've been making all that noise because you want some attention don't you? You just don't know how to ask me for some huh? Don't worry, I'll give you what you have such a hard time asking for. You don't have to look at me honey, just let me hear that you like it like you always do."

She gets angry if you try and ask her for space or time to yourself. She won't let you be away from her, not if she has something to say about it. She doesn't like to be mean, but if you continue being difficult she doesn't have a choice other then to scold you into a crying mess. She always knows what to say to tear you down and make you regret your words. Using every one of your self-doubts against you, hitting your self-esteem with low blows.

You won't be sobbing that way for long however, once you give into her she'll be all warmth and cuddles. She likes to use your tears as reason to baby you and to treat you like a child. She never takes what you have to say to heart, she already knows how to take care of you so just stop.

"See what I mean?" Glimmer asked with that same dismissing tone she always put on for you as she takes hold of your wrists and all but drags you back through the castle gates while you whimper and cry. You had gotten so close to finally escaping, but just as you passed the gate, you heard Glimmer yell your name in that angry tone of hers that you only heard once before, one horrid time before. It caused you to freeze in place, her tone sent you back to that time in the dungeon where you had been 'punished' for being too difficult for Glimmer to deal with. The scars on your back were still healing.

When she finally got to you and spun you around to face her, you were a total mess. You were shaking so hard and holding yourself so tightly with tears streaming from your eyes. You looked so pathetic to her, a ball of sadness that wanted to curl up into itself and shy away from the world. All the anger had left her when she saw you like that, replaced with a calming smile as she attempted to calm you down.

"You say you want to leave the castle but you shut down into yourself when you get scared. You need to stay here so I can look after you my sweet. You'll be my good girl and stay won't you?" You tried hard to speak but your panic made that impossible. You hated at how you reacted around her, you hated that she made you this way. You protested but she hushed you by talking over you in her excitement. Telling you that it's alright to be nervous but she's here for you now, that you no longer need to worry.

Teleporting you and her back to your tower, the home she made for you, the one place you dreaded seeing. "Here, you'll be safe here my sweet darling. Y/n has nothing to worry about now that Glimmer is here to save the day!" You yanked your hands out of her grasp, not noticing the slight falter in her smile as you wrapped your arms around yourself and stumbled back from her. You felt sick, so sick and drowsy as you made it slowly to your bed. You didn't hear the concern or words in Glimmer's voice as she followed behind while you fell into the sheets and tried to bury yourself in the pillows.

You felt her hands on your shoulders shortly and knew she was trying to comfort you, but all you felt was empty and cold. You wanted her to let you go, or even leave you alone. But you knew that she wouldn't, she'd never let you have the freedom you want. "Y/n? Baby?" You heard her ask. "You know I love you right?" It was just too much for you and you hated yourself for it. You wanted to resist her, to keep fighting and breaking her many gifts but it was just getting so hard.

She wasn't going to let you go and who would even believe you anyways? Maybe giving into to her was not the worst thing, but what stopped you was the things she'd say to herself when she thought you were sleeping. About how once you accept her and finally stop resisting her, that she'd make you feel wonderful. How she'll be so happy to take you to her bed once you two were married. You didn't want to think about it, and yet you couldn't help but think of the freedom that would give you.

Glimmer talks in her sleep somethings, the rare times you wake up in the middle of the night but don't move hoping you don’t wake her. However the stuff she says, the words that spill from her half asleep mind bother you. Things about how you'll never leave her, how she'll make sure you'll stay.

"Hmm? You heard me talk in my sleep again? Oh jeez, what did I say this time? Something about locking you up? Are you scared of going back to the dungeon that much? Oh my moons baby! No don't cry, here baby wipe your tears. I wouldn't send you back down to that cold place again. You learned from last time didn't you? Shush, baby calm down and breathe. It's okay, everything is fine."

She's far more manipulative then she lets on and will use every trick in the book to get you to agree with and to stay with her. "You don't belong out there, you belong here with me. What's so hard to understand about that hmm? Why can't you just be happy with being here with me? I'm Brightmoon's Queen for fucks sake!"

You get frustrated at times, feeling like you should be doing more or helping your friends. You've brought this up to her but it never goes anywhere other then her dismissing you.

"No, we are not talking about this again. I already told you enough times that you can't leave the castle. You have no reason to as your job is here. And besides, I won't allow you to leave. You don't get to leave, not anymore. I thought I would be fine with letting you free to mingle with all the others, but that time has passed. Others don't deserve you, not like I do."

She doesn't understand why you've been smiling less and less. Why doesn't she see that look of joy on your face when you're both together that she used to love? Why does the colour in your eyes seem to fade with each passing day when you see her? Glimmer will do anything to make you happy, she only wants you to smile for her, please?

"Y/n? Please smile for me? The only time I can get you to look me in the eyes is when I have to force you. But I won't if you'd do it on your own. Y/n? Please look at me?"

You try hard to keep from having a breakdown, knowing that if she sees you crying or holding yourself, that she'll rush over and try and comfort you which only makes it worse. She won't let go of you like this, telling you that you are fine and safe, that everything is alright. Even though you know it isn't. If you struggle she'll scold you and demand you stop so she can take care of you, just another way to control you.

"I'm not letting go until you feel better. I don't like to see you crying my love, my sweet darling. Please don't cry. Glimmer is here to make it all better."

You've tried leaving but the guards stop you, having been told that you are to stay in the castle and they will inform Glimmer, just like she had asked them to. You don't like the guilt trip she gives you when you try and leave without telling her so you stopped trying.

"Where do you think you're going Y/n? You always scream about how much of a mature adult you are, but then you pull stunts like this? Are you a child? Trying to run away again? And after all this time I thought I could trust you. Seems like I was wrong huh? But don't worry, I won't make this mistake again."

She doesn't see what she's doing as anything wrong and is so far into her own gas lighting that she just sees you being over dramatic. She just wants to spend time with you like a good girlfriend. So be a good girl and she'll be happy.

Glimmer is your girlfriend and that's a thought that leads you to some dark places. You didn't want this, you just wanted to return home and live a normal life of your choosing. You didn't want to be stuck by Queen Glimmer's side till you die. She was the one that forced you into the relationship and screamed at you when you protested against it.

So when you told her that you weren't her girlfriend when she had called you to her bed chambers to chat one night before she kept you confined to the castle. You didn't expect her to get mad. Sure she'd been a bit clingy, but to call her your girlfriend was a bit much. Sure sleeping together in the same room and spending almost every hour together was one thing, but you two were just close friends. Nothing more. That was until you told her no. When you said it, she went quiet for a while. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as you waited for her to say anything other then to just sit there in silence.

Suddenly you found yourself slammed onto your back, Glimmer's hands holding your wrists above your head as she straddled over your chest, her eyes glaring down with an intense magical stare. Her face held a serious look to it, like she'd made up her mind with something, something wrong.

She explained to you with a simple smile on her face, using words that only made you wish the bed was a sink hole and you'd just fall through it. That you were hers, that she loved you, and that she wouldn't waste her time with nonsense things like you telling her no. You don't get to tell her no anymore. She tells you this, between kissing and nipping at your neck that you will obey and be a good girlfriend for her. She needed you to behave, to be docile and to not resist her. She'd take care of all your needs, even if you wanted no part in any of it.

#spop #spop glimmer #glimmer #queen glimmer #she ra princess of power #yandere shera #yandere glimmer #cartoon #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #female yandere #yandere x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

Soup & Cuddles

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff Summary: Bucky had a particularly rough mission but you’re there to welcome him home with a nice warm meal and comforting arms. A/N: ooof weird ending I’m sorry I sometimes don’t know how to end stuff lmao please forgive me but besides that i think this is cute, simple, and sweet so please enjoy <3

Masterlist

You’d been with Bucky long enough to know what came with welcoming him home from a mission.

For starters, whatever time his estimated arrival was was always off by at least a couple of hours (he like to put up an optimistic front for you, you had realized quickly) so you were always prepared for very late nights. Secondly, he would usually be dead tired but insist on hearing about what you did while he was gone. Thirdly, he could be touchy, unable to even lift a finger from you once he got in the door. And finally, he’d simply be hungry.

This night started like any other waiting for Bucky to come home from a mission. Early that morning he alerted you he would be home around midnight which basically translated to early morning hours. You started cooking some food for him around midnight as you waited.

You settled on vegetable soup as it not only warmed the soul but also could be reheated easily. What could you say? You favored practical recipes.

You prepped and seasoned the vegetables nicely, leaving them to wait patiently in the pot. You added in the vegetable stock along with water and a dash of more seasoning just to give it that little extra something. As it began bubbling away, you placed a lid on it, letting the broth reduce and flavors combine.

Once the soup was completed, you left it sitting on the back burner, simmering to keep warm for when Bucky arrived home. You sat on your kitchen island counter, flipping through a magazine when the door finally opened. You smiled, your head quickly turning to greet your man but everything around you seemed to stop when you noticed the state he was in.

Physically, he was just fine. There was no blood you could see, only just the outlines of bruises, but everything else about him… From his stance to his eyes… He didn’t seem okay.

It wasn’t new for Bucky to sometimes came back in unpleasant moods. That, you felt, was totally expected with such a demanding job but something about this time was different. He looked defeated, almost like everything was kicked out of him all over again.

Your heart dropped but you tried not to show it, keeping up some cheeriness in your voice. "Hi, honey," you said, sending him a small smile.

"Hi, doll," His words were weak.

Redirecting your attention to the stove, you hopped down and grabbed a bowl. Motioning towards the pot, you said, "I made you some vegetable soup if you’re hungry."

Bucky shook his head, "Maybe in the morning."

Soup? In the morning? Was… Was he even listening to you?

Stunned, you stood there, just holding the bowl and spoon meant for him. You watched him place some stuff on the counter and then head into the living room, totally bypassing you without a second glance.

Despite turning down the food, you still filled a bowl for him, adding some toast with butter to the side for dipping. You grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge and headed into the living room.

Bucky was sitting on the couch, mindlessly watching late-night TV shows. He wasn’t reacting to anything on the television, just staring off into space. He barely even register you had entered the room until you placed the soup and water directly in front of him on the coffee table.

"Doll, really," he insisted, "I don’t want anything."

You shrugged, taking a seat next to him on the couch, and said, "Well, it’s there in case you change your mind."

Silence fell over the room as Bucky turned to you, his heavy eyes met yours. He looked tired in the worst way. You bit your lip, debating if you should press him to talk about it. He’d always been hesitant to talk about, well, anything. You tried your best to respect that but this was getting to you.

Cautiously, you placed your hand over Bucky’s, intertwining your fingers. It was a small thing but he accepted it.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" You asked, your voice just hovering above a whisper. Bucky took his eyes off you, opting to look down at your connected hands. You took the opportunity to lightly run your fingers through his hair. He slightly leaned into the touch, giving you a bit of hope.

"First off, we lost some people," he simply replied, his grip on your hand suddenly getting stronger.

"What- On the team?" You asked frantically. Bucky quickly shook his head.

"No," he said. You let out a sigh of relief. "But then there were some issues with the civilians."

He acted like that was that but something in your gut could feel there was more to it. He was being so vague it was weirding you out. Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t seem concerned about his words as he disconnected your hands and finally reached for the soup bowl. He drank some broth, turning back to the television.

"Bucky," you said slowly, "is that it?"

He looked down at the soup, this time eating a spoonful of vegetables. Once he had finished his bite, there was a pause. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it as if contemplating on answering. You watched him intensely, pulling your hands to your lap, waiting.

"Kids," he mumbled as his gaze focused on his dinner, stirring the spoon idly. "We saw some kids and I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them. I don’t know if they’re okay or not."

Your jaw dropped slightly. You brought your hand gently to his bicep. He tensed under your touch. "Oh, honey…"

You didn’t know what to say. What- What could you say? Everything on missions could be rough but the image of a child caught in problems they didn’t cause? And possibly paying for it? You couldn’t even imagine the weight of it all.

Bucky sighed, leaning forward, forcing your touch to drop, as he placed his food back on the coffee table. He took a couple of bites of the bread before leaning back, still not looking at you.

"You know, missions can be bad on their own," he mumbled. "But being reminded children are affected…"

He said so little but so much all at once. All you could do was nod, trying to ease his mind. You couldn’t pretend to even know how he was feeling. You certainly had never been in his position before. You just had to be there listen when he was ready to speak and welcome him into your arms to let him know you’re there.

When Bucky felt you wrap your arms around him, he pulled back from his empty staring to look down at you. Normally, when emotions were this strong he’d opt to be alone. And, in fact, he almost did just that earlier. His original plan was to walk right into the bedroom once he got home and bury it all.

But he knew that wouldn’t be a possibility. You were too good. You were there all sweet and radiant, waiting for him with a hot meal. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t turn you away no matter how much he tried. Stuff got a lot better faster when he had someone willing to comfort him.

Effortlessly, he picked you up and placed you on his lap. His arms were tight around your waist. You rested your head in the crook of his neck while his forehead met your shoulder.

You two stayed like that for a bit, just holding one another, trying to offer support any way you could. You still were at a loss for words but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. He probably wasn’t looking for a response anyway. He knew you each led two completely different lives and, sure, there was some beauty in that. There was something about coming back to one another after a full day of work and errands, ready to share stories from your day. But there were always bad sides to it, too. While you didn’t exactly have the horror stories Bucky could have, you knew he’d always listen to your problems, as you were present to listen to his.

After a moment, you felt you couldn’t keep the silence going. Gently pushing away, Bucky lifted his head from your shoulder and you faced one another again.

"I’m sorry," you said, running your thumb over his damp cheek, collecting tears.

"I love you, doll," Bucky mumbled, leaning forward to place a quick peck on your lips. "Thank you."

"I- I didn’t really do-,"

He shook his head, "You do so much for me. You listen to me, you comfort me, you make me the greatest bowls of soup ever… You do too much. Thank you."

You chuckled, your heart melting at his words. With the best smile you could muster under the circumstance, you placed a proper kiss on Bucky’s lips which he happily returned. His grip got tighter, trying to pull your bodies together. You pressed your hands against his chest, putting distance between you two. There were a lot of emotions running through you two.

"You should get some sleep," you said and tried getting off his lap. His arms wouldn’t budge. You sighed, "Bucky, honey, come on."

Shaking his head, he said, "Let’s watch a movie or something, okay? I… I don’t want to sleep yet."

You nodded, "Alright, we can do that but I would like some soup first. And maybe then cuddles."

Bucky chuckled, removing his arms from your waist. You stood and raced to the kitchen, grabbing your own bowl of soup and bread.

"Soup and cuddles?" He asked, watching you from the living room. Maybe he could spend all night like this. Watching you was enough to keep him happy.

"Soup and cuddles," you confirmed, making your way back into the living room. You placed your food on the coffee table and sat on the couch where Bucky had his arm extended, waiting for your body to curl up into his.

His hold on you was fairly strong as if needing a reminder of your presence but you didn’t say anything. It felt good to be wrapped in your man’s arms. And felt even better to be his safe spot. Your heart fluttered at the realization, making you slide closer.

Bucky certainly didn’t object.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu fic #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #writing* #bucky barnes

[itsdanii]

hii i just read all of your masterlist and i loved it kdjzjsj. Could i request a scenario where Asahi has been working long hours and never gets to see his wife. And his wife is secretly pregnant :o so they get into a scrabble and all is revealed but happy ending coz i cant do sad ending ny heart might shatter

Baby Daddy

hey, bub. thank you so much for requesting! here's an asahi angst to fluff with a pregnant wife. i hope you like it ❤️ stay healthy and hydrated!

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of nausea, mentions of monthly period, suggestive content

ft. asahi azumane

reminder 1: lashing out on your wife is not a good practice, especially if you're unaware that the said wife is carrying your child inside her womb

reminder 2: never slam the door shut on your wife

With shaky hands, you stared at the pregnancy test you were holding. Tears of happiness were streaming down your cheeks as you took in the two lines signifying that you are indeed pregnant.

You've been feeling nauseous these past few weeks and the moment you noticed that you skipped your monthly period, you immediately bought a pregnancy test to confirm your suspicions.

And so, there you are, now holding the positive test as you let the feeling of hope and happiness embrace your being. You smiled and reached down to place your free hand on your nonprominent baby bump. Sure, it was too small to be noticeable yet but the fact that you knew that there's a life forming inside you made you happier than you could've ever expected.

"Hi, baby. I know you can't hear mommy yet, but I want you to know that she already loves you very much," you whispered while rubbing small circles on your skin.

Once you finally calmed yourself down from the exciting news, you took a shower and put on some presentable clothes, the red silk of the dress you're wearing shaping your body perfectly.

You stared at yourself on the mirror and smiled in satisfaction. Despite how the dress accentuated your curves, it wasn't too tight to suffocate your lower belly. You put on some light make up and kissed your wedding ring as you finished.

The next thing you did was proceed to the kitchen to prepare some fancy dinner for both you and your husband, giving the table a finishing touch with a bottle of wine for Asahi.

You glanced at the clock and noticed that it was already 9 in the evening yet your husband was still out. You decided to send him a message but only frowned when you received no reply. Sighing, you instinctively placed your hand on your lower belly as you felt a sudden distress.

What if he didn't want the baby?

What if he leaves you?

What if he realizes that he no longer loves you?

What if-

The sound of door opening interrupted you from your thoughts and you immediately stood up to welcome your husband.

Lately, Asahi had been coming home late, always overworking himself to the point of exhaustion. To be honest, you were seriously starting to get worried but everytime you tried to confront him, he would only grunt at you and head to sleep.

You made your way to Asahi and helped him with the stuff that he was carrying, making sure that you only took the light stuff in your arms. "Welcome home, love," you said affectionately and pressed a lingering kiss on his lips.

Unlike the usual, Asahi didn't wrap his arm around your waist nor buried his face on the crook of your neck. You frowned at the lack of affection but decided to let it pass.

"What's the occasion?" he asked, finally taking notice of the food you prepared. The smell of steak was still lingering in the air and despite how it slightly made you feel lightheaded, you held it in knowing how much Asahi loved it everytime you cook steak.

"Nothing," you said as you placed some of his stuff down. "I just wanted to make you some nice dinner since we haven't been spending that much time lately."

Instead of answering, he only sighed and flashed you an apologetic smile. He made his way to his seat and waited for you before eating.

Silence enveloped the two of you and you can't help but feel your palms starting to get sweaty. The way he seemed to rush his food made you feel as if he was only eating as to not offend you. As you were about to speak, he downed his glass of wine in one go before standing up.

"I'm finished. I'll go ahead to bed, okay?" your husband said as he placed a kiss on top of your head, the sweet gesture doing nothing to soothe the negative feeling bubbling inside you.

You stood up and wrapped your arms around him from the back, hands gripping each other to lock him to your embrace. "Love, I missed you," you murmured against his back.

"Y/n, I don't have time for this. I'm tired, okay?" Asahi tried to uncoil your arms around him and groaned when you won't let him.

"Don't want to let go yet. I know that if I do, you'll go to bed again and when I wake up, you'll be gone. Can't I have even just a little bit of your time?" Your voice almost cracked at the end as the toll of his absences finally made its way to you.

He applied a little force to remove your arms before turning around to face you, a deep scowl now present on his face as he stared down at you. "Time? You want time? I'm sorry if I don't give you enough. Unlike you who just stay at home and do nothing, I have work. I have priorities so I'm sorry if you think that I'm not giving you enough attention. Geez, y/n. I'm your husband, not your damn babysitter."

"You call yourself a husband when you can't even prioritize your own wife?" you spat angrily at him.

You knew that you offended him by the way his jaw clenched yet you stood your ground because you knew that the problem wouldn't be resolved unless you confronted it head on.

"I wasn't aware that it's a wife's job to nag at her husband nonstop," he spat back. "Stop being childish and maybe then you'll do something productive and not just spending your time sitting pretty."

Asahi didn't let you speak and opted on turning his back on you. Within a few seconds, you were left alone as the door of your bedroom slammed shut.

You felt your blood run cold as you stared at the door in front of you. "I'm sorry," you whispered, not to yourself nor to your husband but to your baby.

Quietly, you began to clean up the table and wash the dishes. You groaned as you felt an upcoming headache starting to form, no doubt due to the stress you're currently experiencing.

You dried your hands and turned off the lights before making your way to the guest room. Your husband basically slammed the door on you which means that he didn't want you to disturb him, right? So if it's space that he wants, it's space that he'll get.

You curled yourself against the bed, the empty space beside you making you feel lonely. You were used to sleeping beside Asahi. Despite him always coming home late, you never missed the feel of him pressing apologetic kisses on your skin.

It wasn't long until a sob escaped your lips. Your fingers gripped the pillow beside you tightly as you burried your face against the soft cotton, silently wishing that it was your husband you're embracing instead of the white material.

Unbeknownst to you, Asahi was just as distressed as you were.

He couldn't stop himself from tossing and turning as he anxiously waited for you to open the door and fit yourself in his arms. He didn't mean to slam the door at you. He only applied a bit of force not knowing that the impact would be that much.

God, he didn't even want to fight you.

But the feeling of stress and exhaustion from his work along with the expectations of people made him irritable which then resulted to him snapping at you.

Not being able to resist you anymore, Asahi swallowed his pride and made his way to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water to wake himself up before he talks to you.

But he guessed that the cold water was no longer needed.

Because there sitting on top of the toilet seat are two pregnancy tests with both positive results. He carefully picked up one of the tests and stared at it with shock evident on his face.

You're pregnant.

You're carrying his unborn child and he just shouted at you, called you childish and disregarded your feelings.

Instant regret made its way to him and he felt his heart rate picking up. "Shit," Asahi whispered to himself as he paced left and right inside the bathroom, hands gripping the pregnancy tests tightly.

Asahi quickly made his way to the living room, eyes widening in fear upon seeing you nowhere. He surveryed the whole house while calling out for your name and only stopped when he saw your curled up form inside one of the guest rooms.

He sighed in relief and made his way to you, gently scooping you in his arms to carry you back to your shared bedroom. He removed the few stray hair from your face and placed a small kiss on your forehead and both of your swollen eyes, obviously the result of crying.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered as he showered your skin with kisses.

"Azumane," you called out with a raspy voice as you woke up from the light feeling of lips trailing on your skin.

Your husband stopped what he was doing and looked at you. "You're pregnant." It wasn't a question, no. It was a statement, one that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

"I am," you said with a nod and took his hand, placing it on the spot where your bump will soon make its appearance.

Despite being cover by the dress you're wearing, he leaned down and kissed your lower belly lovingly. Pulling away, Asahi shifted himself to lay beside you, his hand reaching for yours to bring it to his lips.

"Im so sorry for what happened earlier," he whispered. He took your lack of response as a signal to continue speaking, one hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer to him.

"Im sorry for shouting at you and for neglecting my job as a husband. I was too focused on proving myself to my co-workers that I forgot the person waiting for me at home." He let go of your hand and wiped your tears with his thumb, his hand cupping your face as you leaned to his touch. "Please don't cry, my love. You know I hate seeing you cry."

"It's your fault," you mumbled with a shaky voice. "It's just... It's so unfair that I'm your wife but I still have to ask for your time and attention when in reality, you should be the one to give those to me without me asking."

"I know. I know, love." Guilt and regret were evident in his voice and the more Asahi watch you let everything out, the more he hated himself for being a bad husband. "But I promise you it won't happen again. I'll be a better husband and the best father to our child. So please..."

You nodded and buried your face to his chest, his scent helping you calm down as you cried everything out. Your hand gripped the back of his shirt tightly as you sobbed in his arms, warmth enveloping you as he rubbed your back soothingly.

"You're okay, we're okay," Asahi whispered, pressing a kiss on top of your head as he held you without any intent of letting you go. "We're okay, right?"

You looked up at him with tear stained cheeks. "We're okay," you said reassuringly.

After a few minutes of enjoying each other's embrace, Asahi slowly pulled away. A whine escaped your lips making him chuckle slightly.

"You dressed up for me?" he asked as he raked his eyes down your figure.

"I wanted to look good for you," you said shyly. "I haven't got the chance to change since you basically slammed the door on me."

"I already apologized with words." Asahi gave your lips a peck before settling himself between your legs, eyes looking up at you as he slowly hiked your dress up, a gasp escaping your lips as his fingertips grazed your thighs.

"Now let me apologize with my actions."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

question: do you prefer the plain divider or this pink one?

#haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu comfort #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #hq angst #azumane asahi #hq asahi #asahi angst #asahi fluff #asahi x reader #hq scenarios

[timelesslords]

Can u pls write a percabeth fic where Percy and Rachel are dating and percabeth are best friends and they end up spending the night together and it's been a week and they don't know how to tell Rachel and Rachel being bitter ?? Pls

This was kind of out of my comfort zone in terms of what I usually write lol but I tried my best!! I imagine this as like a mortal college AU :)

send me a prompt!

“Beth, you can’t walk home like this,” Percy said, exasperated.

“I’m fine! I’m hardly even drunk,” Annabeth said, trying (and failing) to quash the butterflies in her stomach when he called her Beth. Percy, having been her best friend for almost a decade, was the only person in the whole world who was allowed to call her that. He only pulled it out in rare situations, and every time he did Annabeth would swear her heart skipped five consecutive beats.

Not that he could ever know that, of course. Now felt like a more precarious situation than most-- she’d come over to his dorm so they could watch a movie together, and had ended up curled up together on his bed around his laptop. In fairness, his dorm was tiny and there was nowhere else to sit besides his bed, but if Annabeth imagined really hard she could pretend that it had all been completely intentional, and he was sitting this close to her because he wanted to.

“Hardly?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. And, fine. Annabeth had had… an amount to drink. A non-zero amount, some might say. More than Percy, and she had a way lower tolerance than him. She was buzzed, sure, but not buzzed enough to walk back across campus to her own dorm.

“I’m fine. It’s barely twenty minutes,” Annabeth protested. She started to stand up, but Percy gently tugged her back into the bed. She should have put up more resistance than she did, but, well. Who could blame her.

“It’s also three in the morning and you’re drunk,” Percy said, “Come on, just stay the night.”

“Stay where? Grover’s bed?” Annabeth asked, repressing giggles at the thought. It wasn’t really that funny a thought, but, well, she was tipsy.

Percy’s roommate was gone for the night to visit his girlfriend, leaving his bed empty. Grover was a cool guy, but he also had a weird tendency to leave soda cans just about everywhere, including in his bed.

Percy just rolled his eyes. “No, here.”

It took Annabeth a few seconds to realize exactly what he was saying.

“In your bed?” Annabeth asked, hesitantly.

“We’ve been sitting on it together all night,” Percy pointed out.

“Yeah, but…” Annabeth trailed off.

It was different. She knew it was different. And frankly, any other time she’d be absolutely delighted that Percy was offering that difference, but there was also the issue of Percy’s girlfriend. Percy’s girlfriend, who he’d met their freshman year and hit it off with despite the fact that Annabeth had been in love with him since she knew what love was. Percy’s girlfriend, who was in another dorm on campus not ten minutes away, not here but also not not here.

“But what?” Percy asked. There was the tiniest bit of a smirk on his face, and Annabeth shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“You know what,” she said. Maybe it came off a little more seriously than she’d meant, but he didn’t seem to care.

“It’s not like we’d be doing anything,” Percy said. Annabeth tried not to feel hurt at how foreign the concept of “doing anything” seemed to him in relation to him and her. But she didn’t have any right to feel any type of way about that, because she and Percy were just friends and Percy had a girlfriend who was not going to be happy about Annabeth spending the night in his bed, regardless of which activities did or did not take place there.

“Yeah, I know, but its just… I don’t know, don’t you think Rachel will be mad?”

“You’re staying here because you need a place to crash. She can’t be mad about that.”

“I’m pretty sure she could find something to be mad about,” Annabeth muttered, mostly to herself. Percy heard her though. They were sitting so close their shoulders were touching, so it would have been a miracle if he didn’t.

“Fine, I’ll sleep on the floor. She can’t be mad about that,” Percy said, actually making to get up like he was about to lie down right there and then. It was Annabeth’s turn to pull him back onto the mattress.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re not sleeping on the floor in your own dorm room,” Annabeth said, “Besides, she’d just say I kicked you off your bed.”

Maybe Annabeth should’ve kept that last bit to herself, but she’d never been very good at hiding her feelings about Rachel. Percy sighed, knowing she was right but not wanting to admit it.

“Well I’m not letting you sleep on the floor,” he said stubbornly, despite the fact that Annabeth hadn’t even suggested it. She had to bite back a laugh at the indignant look on his face.

“Percy, I was never going to sleep on your floor. I was going to go home,” she reminded him.

“Well I’m not letting you do that either,” he said, “So I guess you’re stuck in bed with me, unless you want me to spend the night on concrete.”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” Annabeth grumbled.

“Does that mean you’re staying?” he asked. His expression brightened considerably at the prospect, and Annabeth had to physically force herself to calm her heart rate down.

“Well apparently I don’t have a choice,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes, praying to every god in the universe that she wasn’t blushing.

“Right,” Percy said, putting on some exaggerated confidence, “Obviously. So am I taking the floor or the bed?”

Annabeth knew he would sleep on the floor in a heartbeat. If she told him that she was uncomfortable being in his bed with him, he would gladly spend the night on cold concrete in the middle of winter in a dorm that had, frankly, terrible heating.

But she wasn’t about to make him do that. And if she was honest with herself, being in bed with him was the opposite of uncomfortable.

“The bed,” she sighed. Percy grinned triumphantly.

“I knew you wouldn’t make me sleep on the floor,” he said, and Annabeth finally let herself laugh.

“Yeah, because I told you so twice.”

“I think it’s because I know you so well, actually,” he said, finally closing his laptop that had been playing the movie earlier, and setting it on his bedside table. They’d turned the lights off earlier, and without the soft glow of the computer screen the only lights in the room were the faint street lights outside.

The bed was just a regular old twin, with not much space for either of them. That was why they were touching so much, Annabeth reminded herself. Just that. No other reason. He just put his arm around her shoulders because it was more comfortable that way, that was all.

It was late, and Annabeth was drunk, so falling asleep was easy. But she’d be lying if she said Percy didn’t help with that too.

***

It’d been a week since Annabeth had spent the night at Percy’s dorm, and they hadn’t talked about it at all.

She’d woken up the next morning completely hungover, and also with her and Percy’s limbs completely tangled together. The bed they’d shared was small, but it wasn’t that small.

Percy, of course, had acted like it was nothing. He’d teased her about her bed head and she’d half-heartedly teased him back about his morning breath, and then she’d packed her stuff from the night before and made her walk of shame back to her dorm. Except it wasn’t even a proper walk of shame, because they hadn’t actually done anything.

He hadn’t brought it up since, like it had been no big deal at all. Annabeth wished she could be so lowkey about it, but it was the only thing she’d been thinking about that entire week.

They’d already planned to meet up at the end of the week again, only this time in a group setting. A group setting meant Rachel was going to be there, and Percy might think their little sleepover hadn’t been a big deal, but Rachel was definitely not going to share that opinion. Annabeth was honestly dreading facing her so much that she considered bailing at least ten times. In the end, she decided that she had to just suck it up— she was going to have to face Rachel at some point, it might as well have been now.

All that to say Annabeth was a little surprised when she showed up at the party, only to find Rachel acting completely normal towards her. She was irritated towards Annabeth, but that wasn’t unusual. Rachel was always irritated towards Annabeth, and Annabeth was always irritated towards Rachel. But Rachel wasn’t pissed at her like Annabeth expected her to be. She wasn’t even not pissed, she was downright cordial.

All it took was one look at Percy for Annabeth to confirm what she already knew. He hadn’t told her.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, grabbing Percy’s arm and pulling him down the hallway. Rachel was going to be pissed at her for that, but Annabeth didn’t care. Percy followed along without complaint, not even bothering to shoot Rachel an apologetic look.

The hallway was empty, or as empty as a hallway at a college party could be. The music was loud enough to cover up their conversation, anyway.

“Did you not tell her?” Annabeth asked, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. Percy immediately looked guilty.

“You don’t know that,” he said, as if everything about both of their demeanors hadn’t given it away instantly.

“Of course I do, she wasn’t absolutely furious with me,” Annabeth hissed. Percy looked, if possible, more guilty than before.

“Okay, fine, I didn’t,” he admitted, “But what’s the big deal? It’s not like we did anything.”

And there it was again, those two little words and the way he said them, as if anything happening between the two of them was an impossibility. It felt like a dagger straight to the heart, but Annabeth ignored it.

“I dunno,” Annabeth said, “I mean if I was your girlfriend, I think I would want to know.”

Percy had choked on his drink halfway through her statement, and was already coughing before she could finish it.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked, alarmed. Percy just shook his head.

“Fine,” Percy managed to choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Am I going to have to heimlich you again?”

“Hey, you promised you would never bring that up again,” Percy said, pointing an accusing finger at her as he coughed again, clearing his throat a few times for good measure, “Besides, I don’t think it works for soda.”

“Fair. But don’t change the subject.”

“You changed the subject first,” Percy accused, in a not subtle attempt to change the subject once again.

“Because I thought you were choking, dumbass. You have to tell her.”

“Why?” Percy practically whined.

“Because the fact that you don’t want to means you know she’s going to be mad about it,” Annabeth said.

Percy groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“Why are you so smart?” he asked. It sounded like a complaint, even though she knew he didn’t mean it that way. It sure felt that way, though.

“‘Cause one of us has to be,” Annabeth sighed.

If Annabeth were smarter, she would’ve never agreed to spend the night to begin with. But it was way too late for that now.

They went back and joined the group, but Annabeth knew Rachel was staring (bordering on glaring) at her the entire rest of the night. She couldn’t even really blame her. She was going to be a hell of a lot more mad at Annabeth once she found out the reason Annabeth had pulled Percy away to begin with.

The very next day Annabeth was in her dorm room, trying to finish a project for her architecture class. It was due on Monday, but she’d been so distracted the entire week that she’d barely even made a dent in it at all. It wasn’t coming together the way she wanted to and Annabeth was three seconds away from snapping her pencil in half and throwing the whole draft away. Before she could, there was a sharp knock at the door.

Annabeth glanced down at her phone, but she didn’t see any texts. Maybe it was the RA doing an inspection, or maybe Piper had forgotten her key again.

But when Annabeth opened the door, she found Percy standing in the doorway. He spoke before Annabeth could even open her mouth.

“So, I told her,” Percy said, with absolutely no context. He knew she didn’t need it. Annabeth found herself gripping the door so tightly she thought her fingers might break.

“You did? What happened?” Annabeth asked, trying not to sound frantic. Why was he here? Why didn’t he just call her? What if Rachel had made him swear to never talk to her again and he was just here to say goodb--

“She asked me to tell her with 100% certainty that I didn’t have feelings for you,” Percy said, impossibly calm.

If Rachel had asked him that, why was he standing in Annabeth’s doorway?

“And?” Annabeth said, voice small. Her heart was practically pounding out of her chest, but Percy just shrugged.

“And, I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t?” Annabeth repeated, just to make sure she had heard him correctly.

“Nope,” he said, easily, too easily, “To be honest, I couldn’t even give her like, 1% certainty, but that would’ve felt a little rude to say.”

“So…” Annabeth trailed off. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. It didn’t make sense in her brain. Percy had feelings for her. And he’d broken up with Rachel, which meant— which meant—

“I think now is the part where you tell me if you like me back,” Percy said, interrupting her thoughts. He was smiling though, like he already knew the answer.

Annabeth did not currently have the mental wherewithal to form words. Thankfully her feet did the thinking for her, closing the already small distance between them and kissing him like she’d wanted to do for years.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” he said with a grin, when they finally broke apart. Annabeth was pleased to see he was a little breathless, at least.

“Shut up,” she laughed.

“Gladly,” he said, leaning down to kiss her again.

#this is so long and the ending is.... it is #i tried yall 😭 #percabeth #percy jackson #percabeth fic #annabeth chase #pjo fic #rachel elizabeth dare slander #she truly is not even a person in this she's a cardboard cutout of a person lmao #percabeth fanfic #pining #so much pining

[bokoutoe-retired]

#93 “people like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you”

characters; bakugou katsuki

synopsis; after overhearing a girls night conversation bakugou questions your relationship and a fight ensues.

total word count; 1398

warnings; some swearing, and a lil bit of angst with a fluffy ending

「a/n」 big thank you to @thisisgreatg for being my first dialogue propmt request 🥺 this turned out to be a lot longer than i thought it would be because i just kinda started word spewing. but after i went back and edited i think it turned out pretty good!! also i’ll put in a ‘keep reading’ once i’m back at my computer!

it’s widely known and all around accepted that every other saturday night is girls night in the heights alliance dorms. all the girls of 1-A gather in the common room to gossip, snack, and unwind after a long week packed full of hero course work. the seven of you throw yourselves across the two green couches and spare chairs. the coffee table stands in the center with a few snacks littered on top. the bigger of the two couches contains you, laid across the length of it with your head resting in minas lap. ochako sits curled up just past your feet, munching on a bag of chips.

“i guess mr. aizawa did say the test was going to be one of the hardest this year, but i still didn't expect todoroki to get one of the lowest grades!” momo is on the floor, leaned back between jirous legs, as she helps her brush out her freshly washed hair.

“but still, you and bakugou did really good as usual.” tsu nods at momo, leaning over from her place on one of the cushioned chairs to grab a leftover cookie.

“speaking of, y/n don’t you think bakugou is a little mean to you even though you're, you know, dating?” ochako stuffs a few more chips in her mouth as she looks over at you.

“i don’t think i’ve even seen him hold your hand,” jirou agrees without looking up from momo’s hair.

“y/n has he ever held your hand? or even ever given you a hug?!” mina seems to find the possibility that bakugou deprives you of affection quite absurd as she looks down at you, completely baffled.

“I haven’t really thought about it too much, but it’s not really that big of a deal…” you shrug up at mina and she continues to play with your hair, twirling a few strands around her fingers.

“it’s like you and him aren’t even dating if he treats you like that!” tooru says quite loudly. the long sleeves of her pajama shirt raise into the air and you assume she has her arms throw up in exasperation.

“well i wouldn't say-” you start.

“how are you supposed to be in a functioning relationship if he doesn’t even act like he likes you!?” toorus sleeves continue to flail around as she interrupts you.

“well i don’t really know, sometimes i do wish he was a little more affectionate, but that's just.. how he is, i guess.” you’re not really too sure what to say as you’ve never really put too much thought into it or even noticed.

“if that's how you feel y/n, i guess! but personally i’d want my partner to be…” minas words go in one ear and out the other, along with the rest of the conversations that night. the girls continue to talk grades and crushes, but you’re far too concerned with the previous conversation to be completely involved.

by the time the night is over, everythings cleaned up and you’re walking back to your dorm you’re left wondering, is there something wrong with your relationship?

~

normally, bakugou would be fast asleep by now, it’s well past 8:30pm. he tried to go back to sleep but after tossing and turning for nearly twenty minutes, he gave in. sleep was too far out of reach, but maybe a warm glass of water would help him settle back in for the night. bakugou was fully aware that tonight was ‘girls night’, but who were some shitty extras to tell him he couldn't get water. it’s his damn dorm building too! plus he’d be in and out. nobody would notice, so no harm no foul right? wrong. now he sits in his room almost a whole half an hour later, awake and replaying your conversation with the girls in his head.

he was walking back from the kitchen, glass of water in hand, and passed the common room at just the right moment. when he had walked by the first time, he had paid no mind to the topic of conversation being something about someone's muscles, nothing of interest to him. but hearing his name certainly was of interest. he stood in the hall, just out of sight line and listened as the girls (mostly mina and tooru) badger you with assumptions about your relationship with him. it left him thinking, did you think he wasn’t enough? did you want more for him? were you unhappy?

~

the next day was completely normal, most of your overthinking had ceased and you spent your sunday studying with bakugou in your room.

monday came and went for the most part, class had been long and tiring but you were excited to head back home. bakugou walked you from the main building back to heights alliance all the time and nothing was out of the ordinary until you felt a warm calloused hand slip into yours and grip just a little too tightly.

“what are you doing?” your head shoots over to look at him, you’re shocked to say the least.

“what does it look like i’m doing, idiot?” his head is turned away from you and he’s looking up but you can still see his furrowed brows and the cringe on his face.

“well, you just look really uncomfortable, and i don’t want you to-”

“make up your mind woman!” the warmth of his hand is replaced with empty air as he roughly rips his hand from yours, looking down at you angrily.

“katsuki, what are you talking about!” you stop walking and turn to face him.

“i said make up your mind! do you want me to touch you or do you not!” he flings his arms out in exasperation.

“of course i do! i’m dating you! but i’m not going to force you to!”

“if i can’t give you what you want, why are you even with me? people like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you!” it breaks your heart to hear him sound so broken and dejected. ”i heard you talking with your shitty friends about how you want me to be more affectionate”

“did you not hear me, stupid? i’m not going to force you to katsuki!” you feel yourself soften as you think of how guilty he must be feeling. “yes, it would be nice but if you’re not comfortable with it thats okay, it isn’t just about what i want”

“i just! i just don’t know how…” he trails off and averts his gaze from your face to the ground, his tense shoulders slump. you sigh, walk up to him, rest your hand on his arm, and guide him to start walking again.

“that’s okay, you don’t have to know. we can start off small, however you want, but we’ll work on it together if that's what you want?” your hand falls from his arm. you want to make sure he has his space until he’s ready.

“fine, but only because i want to!” he keeps walking, but he looks like he has more to say. “and because i love you and i want to try for you…” he mumbles, and you barely catch it but thank god you do. his words make your heart soar.

“i love you too, but you know you we’re doing a pretty good earlier, until you started yelling at me” you playful nudge him in the ribs with your elbow.

“tch, shut up woman.” he huffs out. you think that’s the end of it until you feel his knuckles brush yours, and then the weight of his fingers lacing with yours. you look up at him again but this time, instead of looking uncomfortable he has a faint blush dusting his cheeks. and maybe, just maybe the smallest hint of a smile gracing his lips.

#mha #bnha #Mha x reader #Bnha x reader #My hero academia x reader #Boku no hero academia x reader #Mha oneshots #Bnha oneshots #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #ground zero #mha x reader onehots #bnha x reader oneshots