No Bc Sex With Bakugou Is So Insane With You On Top. He's Got His Hands Behind His Head, Gripping His

Inevitable (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, talks of insecurities, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, making out, straddling, unprotected/protected penetrative sex but be safe please! specific warnings will be written on applicable chapters)

Series Word count: ~89.8k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: I love exes aus, and (athlete) dad Jungkook does things to me and after months of this little family living in my head, I finally got to put them into writing. So I hope you enjoy knowing them as much as I loved writing them 🥰 Also, my knowledge on baseball (and the MLB and the KBO) is quite shallow so for wrong terms and stuff… please ignore!

Prologue (wc: 2.2k)

Chapter 01 (wc: 6.9k)

Chapter 02 (wc: 7.2k)

Chapter 03 (wc: 7.7k)

Chapter 04 (wc: 9.9k)

Chapter 05 (wc: 7.5k)

Chapter 06 (wc: 7.7k)

Chapter 07 (wc: 6.6k)

Chapter 08 (wc: 14.7k)

Epilogue (final) (wc: 6.3k) 

Only Love: An Inevitable Epilogue (wc: 13k) || End

masterlist

we all are small particles holding very tightly together in a very large universe // k.bakugou

Rating: MA

Pairing(s): Tamaki Amajiki x fem!reader, Bakugou Katsuki x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, heavy angst, emotional cheating, major character death, smut, body horror/graphic injuries, trauma, ptsd, sinkhole accident, medical trauma, hospital scenes 

expected wc: 20k+

Summary: Soulmates are given to every child when they turn five through their dreams. You were never assigned one. Growing up and coming to terms with never having a soulmate, you find another Tamaki with a similar fate and become happily engaged. What happens when you start to dream of an old classmate though, his ruby eyes and caramel scent haunting you in and out of your dreams? 

a/n: this is my part for the big bang collab (@mybigbangacademia )! woooooooo!!!! artwork to come by the lovely @/wasabi-gumdrop. uhhhhh what else..... this first part is 5k, and overall i'm gonna have over 20k words lmao, so good luck me and everyone else. also, my ao3 is linked too! have fun with that.

and as always,

minors dni

-(-)-

It’s him. 

Your eyes meet his and you remember it all.The folds of his school uniform from years ago. His blonde hair in the wind as he blasts his way through the air, racing to be the first pro-hero on site. He stands there, watching you go through the motions. Watching you unsure of yourself, palm over your heart as it aches for him. You step forward, not sure if you’re making the choice to walk towards him or if your heart is still the one in control. 

He watches with a careful expression, as if he’s known for years that he’s been the one. He watches as if he’s been waiting. Waiting for your eyes, once clouded, to look into his vermilion ones and see for yourself who he is. 

Katsuki, your voice is barely above a whisper and there’s tears starting to sprout from your eyes. 

His eyebrows furrow, as if he can’t tell if you’re relieved or questioning the weight of his name on your tongue. 

You hold out your hand, outstretched fingers aching to brush his skin. 

You okay? 

The palms of his hands are warm as they hold yours, and for the first time in forever,you tell the truth. 

-(-)-

The room is still dark despite the streaks of light filtering through the blinds. Your mind is foggy, the remnants of your dream withering away with each second. You blink back tears, unsure of what it was you were dreaming about now that you’ve started to wake up. Still half asleep, you mistake the man in your arms for blankets and pillows until he starts to stir awake. For a brief second, a scary moment, you forget who he is and why he’s in your bed. 

“Tamaki,” you whisper. You didn’t mean to say this out loud yet he groans in reply, mistaking your answer to your own question for a greeting. “G’morning.”

“Mm,” he hums. Your arms squeeze tight around his shoulders and now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you can finally make out his indigo bedhead against your pillows. “Mornin’.”

You smile, ignoring the strange sadness settling inside your belly. “When did you get in? You were still working when I went to bed last night.”

Tamaki doesn’t answer for a moment and you think he’s fallen asleep until he turns onto his back. People mistake him for being thin, wiry. Yet you can feel the ropes of muscle in his arms as he pulls you in close by your waist, you can feel his broad chest and his stocky build against your soft curves. His quirk revolves around food and he’s a damn good pro-hero, a prospective top 10 hero this year, of course he ain’t skinny. 

“Three,” he replies. “Stay in bed.”

“The Clash is in full swing, Tama.” You joke but you curl into his warmth nonetheless, allowing yourself the few minutes of peace before you go into work.  ‘The Clash’, meaning your conflicting schedules, happens at least three times a year. A few weeks of one of you having graveyard shifts while the other keeps to the normal day-time shifts for a pro-hero. He sleepily groans again, yet Tamaki loosens his arms around you. 

“When’s your shift done?” His words slur, and it takes you a moment to comprehend his question before you answer. 

“I’ll be going in by then,” Tamaki sighs.

You kiss his jaw, soft and clean shaven. He still shaved after his graveyard shift last night, knowing that you prefer the feeling of his skin smooth over the prickle of a five o’clock shadow, AM or otherwise. 

“Should’ve gone to my agency instead of staying with Fatgum,” you tease. Tamaki never would’ve changed agencies, and he reaffirms that with a displeased hum. A soft giggle slips out from your lips and you roll your eyes. 

Your agencies aren’t that far apart, yet it’s clear that Fatgum’s is far superior than the one you’ve started at a few weeks ago. Your manager nearly quit on you when you transferred, ignoring her pleas to move somewhere that’ll help you climb the ranks instead of plateau. You waved off the questions people threw, ignoring their confusion as to why you’d ever leave such a high ranking angeny for a… mediocre one. He doesn’t put up much of a fight when you start to peel away from him, stuffing his face into your pillows as you fumble around the room. The apartment is quiet when you slip on your running shoes, you sling your work bag over your shoulders before you give one last quiet goodbye to your fiancé. 

-(-)-

There’s a nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something. All day you couldn’t shake it. All day your fingers drummed against every desk and flat surface, you bounced your legs on the balls of your feet until your coworkers threw heated glares in your direction. You ignore them now, you ignore their exasperated sighs as you continue to bounce your leg while you type away your paperwork. You chew the inside of your cheek, resting your chin in your hand as you scroll through the file one last time before submitting it for review. These arrests won’t help your rank, it won’t make you popular, they won’t even make it to the front page of the Esuha Daily News let alone the fourteenth page. But it’s a good day. 

You’ve made good arrests today, all without casualty. You even meal planned your fucking lunch. So why the hell are you on edge? 

Of course your arrests didn’t have casualties though, they didn’t even have injuries. You barely used your quirk today. 

Did you even use your quirk today? 

The highest activity your watch took track of was when you took a light jog back to your agency building after capturing a runaway purse snatcher. In fact, that was the first and only time you had to use your quirk. He thought running sporadically would throw you off your balance, and maybe it would’ve for a low ranking hero. In a split second you activated your quirk and he teleported right into your arms instead of turning the corner like he had planned. You’ve been working on this trick for months, teleporting objects or people in your place but catching them halfway. Meeting them in the middle. In seconds he was in handcuffs and you left it to the police to get him into custody. You jogged back to work for lunch. 

The inside of your cheek starts to bleed as anxiety gnaws inside you. Whatever it was that you had forgotten, is probably gone forever. Irritated at the realization, you sigh and decide to burn off this extra energy with a walk around the building. Tamaki is probably getting dressed by now, stuffing his hero costume into his work bag right from the dryer. He’s got a terrible habit of not folding his clothes, you both do. It’s why you invested in a wrinkle releaser spray, and you hope he’s remembered it for tonight’s shift. Civilians recognize you still, you can’t help a sense of pride and relief when their eyes brighten at the sight of you. A child stops you from your anxiety-ridden walk for a quick autograph, begging you to show them your teleportation quirk before their parent bashfully drags them away. 

Your hands twitch, begging to be useful and aching to be used again. You turn the opposite away and head back to the agency. 

-(-)-

I cooked u dinner!, you text Tamaki, don’t forget it. it’ll help ur shift tonight :P

Your head bowed low as you stroll down the block, your shift just ending according to the time in your phone. It’s why you don’t see him, it’s why you feel the split second heat of his body prickles against you before you activate your quirk to avoid further disaster. He stumbles in your previous spot, his cheeks pale from nausea as he leans forward (usual symptoms of being teleported without warning). 

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he spits out before straightening up. An eerie sense of dejavú washes over you as you stare back at Dynamight. His eyes haven’t been painted with eyeliner yet, and he’s carrying a gym bag over his shoulders that’s most likely holding his costume. 

“Right- sorry.” You let out a laugh, not sure why you’re feeling flustered. You have work to finish before going home, a few more files to mark as “important” even though they’re technically insignificant. You have a home to go to. But his eyes are still on you. And you can’t look away.  You’ve forgotten something today, and it’s nagging at you even more now than ever. 

His eyebrows furrow and he watches you carefully as your thoughts race.  “Shadow Step,” he greets you curtly. 

“Dynamight,” you nod and give him a polite smile. Your eyes cut to the athletic compression band on his left arm, surprised to even see a kind that begins from your shoulder and ends at your fingertips. “Are you going into a shift or coming from one?”

Bakugou looks you up and down for a moment before answering, “Coming from one.” There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat. “You look like you’ve got a long night ahead of ya.” Yeah because you haven’t fucking done anything all day and you’re bored .  

“Shift just ended actually,” you smile and look behind him towards the agency building. 

“You okay?” Bakugou’s words snap your attention back to him, that feeling of dejavú even stronger now. 

You both stare for a moment; you, deciding on telling the truth, and him patiently waiting for you to answer or just move along. 

“Yeah,” you lie. You hurry back inside the building before he can reply. He used to call me Bambi , you distantly remember. You don’t know why your heart is still racing after seeing him again. 

-(-)-

For the next week, it keeps happening.

You wake up with either tears in your eyes or the ghosts of one’s still on your cheeks. Yet whatever you dreamt of is long gone, no matter how much you try to cling to the memories. Until one morning it lingers, the feeling of his hair between your fingers and the warmth of his body against yours. The smell of caramel. 

The realization settles slowly, until the weight of guilt is heavy against your bones. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. Out of fear, you reach behind you only to feel a cold empty bed beside you. That’s right, Tamaki is on a plane to China for a mission. He’s not going to be back for another week. You stuff your face into the soft blankets, hoping that the smell of home will dampen the heavy caramel still filtering in your mind. 

You’ve never even had a real conversation with Bakugou since… ever. With the exception of last week when you inexplicably ran into him, you always saw him in passing from your years at UA. Neither of you had spoken much, maybe paired against each other’s classes for training but other than that… 

Today is your day off, you give yourself the luxury of staying in bed for just a little bit longer. The warmth in your chest from your dream is finally lifting, leaving you to breathe once again. 

It meant nothing. Just a random dream. 

But as your day continues, you can’t get rid of the thought of him. 

Why weren’t you guys ever friends? Maybe because he was a major asshole who looked down at everyone like they were a piece of shit.

You snort, shaking the very idea out of your head until a memory springs forth.

Cherry blossoms were floating in the air and the weather just started to turn warmer. It was your third year, the excitement of graduating buzzed through all your classmates and it meant that you all had trouble concentrating on courses. You had gotten in trouble for doodling during the fire quirk safety course, and was forced to stay behind to clean the classroom all by yourself before heading back to your dorms. 

You bumped into Katsuki right after, both of you stunned that another student was still around the school so late that neither of you said a word just yet. 

“God, Bambi, you’d think that with your stupid quirk you wouldn’t bump into anyone,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry-! Bambi?” You instantly retract your apology, glaring as he brushes you off. 

“Yeah, Bambi. Baby deer who can barely fucking walk?” His stupid smirk makes you see red, especially when he starts to step away from you. I nstead of his heavy boot meeting the ground, his face does instead when you activate your quirk. The checkered tiles don’t match now since you’ve switched their spots, but you’re cackling too loudly to care. Just as you try to leave, Katsuki’s hand grabs your ankle and trips you. It’s too quick for you to even think to use your quirk, and the smack of the tile stings. 

“What the- fuck you!” You turn and snarl, his annoying little sneering frustrates you more. 

“Relax, tit for tat.” Bakugou towers over you, the same hand that tripped you is now offered to help you stand. Reluctantly you take it. 

You both help pick up the other’s things, his papers that flew with perfect grades and messy drawings on the tests that you finished early on. It’s quiet between you both. To be honest you were feeling awkward, wondering if maybe you are just a lowly piece of shit as you stare at Bakugou’s perfect marks. You glance at him, not wanting him to catch you marveling at how absolutely genius he is, and find him with one of your essays in his hands. His thumb traces over a messy sketch of a face, the angles harsh and the eyes sharp, but the rest was a blur. 

“Soulmate?” He grumbles, his red eyes looking up at yours and you feel your insides freeze at being caught. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. I don’t think I have one,” you mumble and take the essay from him. Morbid curiosity takes over and you ask him the same. 

“Yes,” his answer surprises you. Something in your belly flips, not wanting to know why exactly that upsets you. 

You didn’t expect him to have one, not with his attitude and ego. It shouldn't be surprising that he has one, it’s rare for someone to be like you: one without a soulmate. Fated to be alone. By the age of five, right around the time a child has gotten their quirk, they start to dream of their soulmate. You’ve heard of soulmates meeting in sleep, talking and laughing and holding each other in dreams. Waking up knowing they’re out there, remembering every detail of them.  You didn’t get these dreams. Maybe you saw people, indistinct faces. But everyone did. 

“But how do you know they're your soulmate and not just a random person your brain made up? How do you know it’s not just chemicals?”

Your friends shrugged, a dopey smile on their faces as they imagined their future partners, “You just do.”

That wasn’t helpful. 

“Oh,” you replied. “Congrats.” You wanted to reach out and fix his tie and a part of you yearned to run your hands through his hair and see if it truly feels as soft as it looks. Instead you stuffed your papers into your bookbag and stood, muttering an apology for tripping him. 

Bakugou looks at you and nods, “It’s fine. I was being a dick.” The sun setting outside streamed through the glass wall and washed over his cheeks, his eyes are rubies in the sunlight. “See ya around, Bambi.”

You nodded, turning away before he could first. 

Almost immediately, the feeling of warmth in your chest turns to guilt. A chill runs down your spine, prickling your skin with discomfort. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. 

You’re engaged. He has a soulmate. 

None of it matters. You’re happy. 

You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy. 

You mutter this to yourself all day. You tap the words onto your lips with your pen as you fill out endless paperwork. Today you avoid going out on patrol, not wanting to bump into him again. Nearly every time you’ve gone on patrol, you see Katsuki,- Bakugou,- Dynamite . The screams of children as they swarm towards him would catch your attention, and of course the moment you glance towards the commotion you meet his gaze. Time stands still for just a millisecond, and the vague feeling you woke up with that moment would come back like dejavu. Or you’re getting lunch, rushing towards the food stand with the older auntie who loves to squeeze your cheeks and demand you eat more, when the smell of sugar lingers for a moment before disappearing. You hate how your heart races at the smell of sugar burning, you hate that you think of his soft blond hair and his eyes, only to see the treats being sold to the families passing through. All of your shifts are so sleepy, so goddamn boring, that you never noticed the stands selling sweets like American brittle or caramel dipped apples until now.

Caramel follows you everywhere now. Or maybe it’s always been there and you just haven’t noticed. So you decide to stay inside the office, at least until Tamaki gets back from his mission and you can feel like yourself again. 

I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m happy. 

You stare at the photo of Tamaki and you on your desk, doing everything you can to ignore the ghost smell of caramel determined to linger around you. 

-(-)-

You train harder at night. You do everything to avoid sleeping and if you do pass out, you hope to not dream. You can’t take it, seeing him instead of Tamaki. As you go through the motions of hitting the punching bag, ignoring the way your body screams for you to take a break, you nearly miss Tamaki’s call. 

“I haven’t heard from you,” his voice makes your chest tighten with guilt. “How was your day?”

The same. It’s always the same. You walk and catch the occasional kid who tries to steal a phone. You sit in your office and do the mind numbing paperwork that follows. Rinse. Repeat. 

It’s always the same. You hardly use your quirk, you hardly use the special moves you worked so hard on back in your high school days. 

You go home to an empty apartment and an empty bed, left wondering why the hell you aren’t doing more. You go home and eat a dinner you always make for yourself and wish for once that someone else can just do it for you. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, still brimming with energy and pent up rage, wondering why you are here. Longing for a home that doesn’t exist. 

“It was fine,” you chug water in between breaths, the muscles in your arms quivering as you finally take a break. 

“That’s nice,” his voice is sweet. You hate how annoyed you’re starting to feel about how compliant he is. There’s a long silence and you wonder when you both got so comfortable. 

When did you get so comfortable? When did you stop trying? Why did you decide to settle for less?

That thought stops you cold. Settle for less? Did you mean your career or… Tamaki wasn’t less. He’s a good man, a brave hero, a loving partner. He took care of you. He takes care of you.

He’s never pushed you. 

You both never fought, you were both so compliant. 

But he loves you. 

“I love you,” you say. 

Tamaki keens out a shy noise, still not used to your affection even after all your years together and you smile. “I love you too.”

“I want to leave my agency,” you blurt out. “I hate it. It’s so boring.” Everything spills, the way you feel so useless each day, your dreams of being the best being swept away by his shadow, you tell Tamaki everything. Leaving out the smell of caramel that haunts you each morning. 

Tamaki is quiet for a moment before responding, “We have a position.”

“You do?” You sit on the gym mat, wondering why you ever doubted your faithful fiancé, your ecstatic laughter rings through the training center. 

“Yes,” Tamaki joins in on your laughter. “You’d have to start as a sidekick, really just think of it as the transition period before we get you to debut as a pro hero. But-,” 

You can hear your blood rushing through your ear drums, flooding out whatever else Tamaki is saying. Start over? Can you do that, start from the beginning and rise up? 

“We can even work together, it’d be- God, that’d be fantastic. I can see you more-,” Tamaki is getting excited, but all you can think of is how once again, you’ll just be overshadowed by the Suneater himself. You wonder if he can hear how hollow your voice sounds, when you tell him how great that’ll be. 

A few days after the phone call at the training center, Tamaki tells you that his mission was extended and he won’t be home until the end of the month. You can’t sleep hours later after you told him goodnight, and decide to go on a run. The sound of your feet hitting the pavement helps drown out your thoughts. Lately you’ve been so preoccupied with transferring agencies as soon as Tamaki gets home, that you’ve almost forgotten your soulmate dilemma. 

Almost. 

You run faster to avoid thinking about it, about him.  You’re totally not thinking about him, and you’re doing an excellent job not thinking about him that you run into the asshole. 

“Fuck,” you barely feel the scrape on your knee before activating your quirk to save yourself. “Sorry, I-”

“You’d think that with your quirk, you wouldn’t bump into anyone, Bambi.” This time, it’s amusement and not annoyance that he says this sentence to you for a second time in your life.  Kat- Dynamite holds out his hand, looking down at you with a faint smirk as you graciously take it. You activate it again, switching places so that you’re looking down at him instead. 

“You’d think that with your attitude you’d be at the bottom of the popularity poll.” There’s no malice in your tone, and instead you find yourselves smiling at the other. You help him up easily before cleaning off yourself. 

“You’re stronger than you look,” Bakugou compliments. Many thought that, and even had said that to you, and while most times it irks you, this time you feel pride. 

“I’ve been training.” You stand taller. 

“I’ve noticed.” It’s dark, but you swear the tips of his ears start to go red. 

“Yeah?” You smile, and if anyone would’ve called it out, they might call it flirty. “Didn’t realize you’ve been watching.”

“Shaddup,” He laughs and crosses his arms, one still clad in the compression sleeve, the ropes of muscle more prominent in his chest and biceps. “Everyone has been noticing.”

“Really,” you cross your arms and grin. “Everyone?” 

“Ever since Elf Ears fucked off on his mission, everyone has noticed you been trolling for night shifts.” He’s right of course, not that you’d freely admit to him. Your restless energy has boiled over and you’ve been picking up more shifts. Shamefully you’ve felt free. 

“Not tonight, though.” Tap your shoes against the sidewalk, ready to run. Whatever confidence you had in front of him is fading quickly, and your head is dizzy with the scent of caramel and musk wafting from him. 

“No.” Bakugou agrees, watching you carefully. “Not tonight.”

Electricity pulses through the space between you both, and you decide it’s time to end this interaction. 

“You okay?” He asks again. The familiar pangs of distress and love floods into your chest and guilt starts to sting you at your core. 

Yes. “No.” 

“My shift just ended,” Bakugou says nonchalantly, shrugging. “Want to get a drink?”

No . “Yes.” 

-(-)-

Drinks didn’t mean what you thought. You and Bakugou walked down the lamp lit streets in silence. A third person could walk between you both, you thought to yourself. You made sure to not pay any attention to his frame, you tried your best to not compare him to your fiancé. All day you haven’t heard from Tamaki, not that you expected him to contact you during a mission. But as you and Katsuki walk to get drinks, you realize it’s the first time in months that you haven’t been riddled with anxiety over your partner. 

“This isn’t a bar,” you step through the tea shop and give Katsuki a passing look. 

“Never said it was, Bambi.” Your heart flutters at the nickname, yet you don’t give any of it away as you look around the tea shop. His eyes watch you taking it in, the decor that’s been outdated for about thirty years already and the countless porcelain tea cups being reflected by the hanging lights. “Pick a cup, then pick a tea.” Katsuki grabs a ceramic yunomi painted with the colors of a sunset. You bite back a smile, remembering how much he favored the color orange back in school. Not much has changed. 

“Hōchija, please.” He sets his cup down and gives a polite nod to the younger boy behind the wooden counter. 

Your eyes scan across the once white now faded yellow menu, “May I get the sencha please?” 

It’s quiet aside from the music playing the top 100 over the speakers, and then both of you take a seat at the bar. The younger barista hums while measuring out the dried tea leaves, the two of you doing your best to ignore the warmth from your shoulders touching lightly. A few minutes pass and your yunomi is handed back filled with hot tea, it’s heat spreads across the palm of your hand and you ignore the way it stings. It’s delicious. 

“This is amazing,” you give a smile to your barista and he bows his head with a shy smile. “How did you hear about this place?”

Bakugou sets his tea back down and you catch the smell of charcoal, vaguely you wonder if it’s the remnants of his shift and you inch closer. “My pops would take me here,” Katsuki’s voice is low and you lean in to catch his words. “It’s the only damned place that we went to that didn’t involve someone screaming at each other. He told me once, ‘Katsuki-chan every cup you drink is one drink closer, I hope, to calming the fuck down.’” Your snort is sudden and loud, and while you struggle to keep your laughter down, you miss the way Katsuki smiles at you before taking another sip of his tea. 

“Did it work?” You smile at him, not wanting to think about your chest warming and deciding it’s from the tea. 

“I think so.” He answers truthfully, this time he glares when you laugh. “What?” Bakugou sets his tea cup down almost too roughly on the wooden counter, and you notice the same compression band on his left arm still. 

Shaking your head and holding your hands up to your defense, you giggle. “The amount of articles I’ve read of the ‘Great Dynamite Hero’-,” your fingers mine the air quotes, “-having his blowouts. It’s hilarious.”

“Didn’t realize you were keeping track of me.” Your eyes look up and find that his are already tracing your features, the curve of your jaw and the tip of your nose. How long have you been this close to him? Close enough to see that he hasn’t slept in a while and close enough to briefly wonder if his lips would taste like burned sugar too. 

“I haven’t been. You’re usually on the front page,” your voice wobbles and you shift farther from him. “Tamaki and I like to read the paper together.” At the sound of your fiancé’s name, Bakugou gives a slight nod and shifts back too. Your fingers ghost over your ring. You catch him looking at the silver band briefly. Subconsciously you wish you haven’t said anything at all, and you swipe your thumb over your ring. 

The conversation dies, and when Bakugou pays, you go home to try and sleep. 

-(-)-

“What happened to your soulmate?” You ask Tamaki, who has gotten back from his trip now, over breakfast.  You watch his face wince, the pain of her loss still stinging even after decades. Shame takes its place quickly over the jealousy you feel for him, to have someone you love so much that every piece of you belongs to them and them you. 

“She… died. In a car accident.” Tamaki picks at his pancakes, doused in maple syrup. “When we were five.”

Shame burns hotter for you now. “That young?” Tamaki nods, taking a bite of the breakfast he made for you both. “You must’ve barely met her by that point.” 

He smiles sadly, “She used to be in my class with Mirio and I. At first, I thought I was just having dreams about school. I used to beg my parents to not send me to bed, I would get hives just thinking about school being in my dreams again.”

“How did you know she was your soulmate?” You think back to all the times in your life that you’ve asked this question. To your partners over the years who didn’t have their soulmates anymore or tried to cheat the system. The friends you had who swore to be single but fate gave them an emptiness to be filled by their love. 

And now him. When you and Tamaki started dating, you had the talk with him. The talk you had with everyone. You don’t have a soulmate. You won’t be fatefully theirs, they won’t be yours. If you have an assigned soulmate, please don’t waste my time.  The way he looked when you said this, the immensable sadness that washed over his features before giving you a small smile. His words were simple, enough to end the topic and enough to scare you from asking more. Well, good thing I don’t have a soulmate anymore. 

“We talked for hours in our dreams,” he sighs at the memory. “I learned things about her that I couldn’t have known if I didn't actually talk to her, so it was pretty much solid. Mirio didn’t meet his soulmate in real life until after high school, they both decided to wait and then exchange numbers. He couldn’t stop jumping and cheering when he heard their voice on the receiver,” Tamaki laughs and looks back at you with a melancholy smile. “You also just know. It’s like suddenly, your body just isn’t yours. It feels like you’re being pulled to them and as much as you want to escape, you can’t run. You don’t want to.”

“What was her name?”

He pauses. “Shinju.” There’s a softness in his voice you haven’t heard before, and you wonder what Tamaki’s life would’ve been like if his soulmate hadn’t died. Maybe they’d even be heroes together, fighting villains side by side with an unspeakable bond that no one could penetrate. He wouldn’t have a partner who would settle for less out of fear of being let go for someone else. He wouldn’t have someone who is a shell of who they are, destined to-

Destined for what? 

You don’t know what destiny has for you anymore. Before you were destined to be alone. But now Katuski appears in your dreams, sitting under fruit trees that you always wanted to have in your backyard, never facing you. Or he's by the ocean with waves softly crashing in front of him, warm sand underneath you both.

Before, you accepted that you would be alone. You refused for anyone to tell you that you must feel empty inside, for how else can anyone live without a beloved fucking soulmate? You told them to go fuck themselves, you proved them wrong by becoming a pro-hero despite having no natural goddamn cheerleader and you did it with a beaming ass smile and the ego that weighed more than what All Might could bench. 

You were fine. You were happy. 

Until you made yourself small. 

You aren’t empty inside. You’ve made yourself small. 

Tamaki was dreamy, he was shy and dreamy and sweet and romantic in all of his awkward ways. You allowed your light to be diminished under his shadow. 

Because eventually, all those people pitying you for being so alone, got to you. You’re human after all, isn’t it normal to feel melancholy when you see a couple laughing and holding hands? Isn’t it normal to wish to have someone love all of you, imperfections included? Isn’t it normal to want to have somebody be there for you? Isn’t it normal to not want to go to bed and wonder what it is like to have someone hold you? You weren’t as tough as you thought. You felt like you let down those people you met in forums for those without soulmates, the civilians and heroes who never was bestowed a soulmate who said “Fuck them, I’m my own person” and never even wanted to date. They were complete because they had family, friends, a career, sexy one night stands. They could rely on themselves and no one else. 

You don’t know where you fall anymore. 

-(-)-

Amir is a young child suffering from a skin disease that spreads all over his body, caused by the harsh conditions he faces due to war and siege. The prevention of medicine and cleaning supplies, along with contaminated water, has led to the proliferation of skin diseases in him. Amir endures severe pain and constant health fears, and he is in urgent need of assistance and donations to receive the necessary healthcare and restore his health.

https://gofund.me/3ebf0c0f

Revenge Is Sweet (Series Masterlist)

~ a Tom Holland Social Media AU

》 STATUS: completed…for now ;) 》 PAIRING: college!football player!tom x college!female!reader 》 TROPE/GENRE: college au; fake dating au; idiots to lovers; angst; fluff; crack-ish 》 WARNINGS: the most cliché of clichés, tropes galore, cheating, pettiness, language, sexual jokes + innuendos, gossips + tea, football ⚽️, not-so-accurate photos, not-so-accurate depictions of college, harrison being a swiftie, tom being a huge flirt, football!player!tom!, flirtatious conversations (e.g. teasing talks & hints of/about sex, nothing explicit), cheesy one-liners, even cheesier captions/tweets, sprinkles of angst, very cute/soft/sweet moments, and long ass text messages especially as the series progresses.

✩ TOM HOLLAND MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

➽ Synopsis:

What happens if your boyfriend cheats on you with your well-known tormenter? Even more exciting, what happens if the Tom Holland—football captain, campus heartthrob, your well-known tormenter’s boyfriend, etcetera—asks you to get revenge on them with him? To put things not so simply, if your boyfriend cheated on you with his girlfriend, who cheated on him with your boyfriend, would that make you friends? Or maybe…something more?

➽ Parts:

⚽️ Intro ⟶ the players ⚽️ Part 1 ⟶ honeymoon phase  ⚽️ Part 2 ⟶ too good to be true ⚽️ Part 3 ⟶ accidental rebound ⚽️ Part 4 ⟶ ️if your enemy is my enemy… ⚽️ Part 5         ↳ 5.1 ⟶ charm & persuade         ↳ 5.2 ⟶ pros & cons ⚽️ Part 6 ⟶ ️game plan ⚽️ Part 7 ⟶ ️let’s start rumours ⚽️ Part 8         ↳ 8.1 ⟶ fiery & reveal(?)         ↳ 8.2 ⟶ real & fake(?) ⚽️ Part 9         ↳ 9.1 ⟶ perfect & precious company         ↳ 9.2 ⟶ ️pregame care & packages ⚽️ Part 10 ⟶ oscar-worthy “acting” ⚽️ Part 11 ⟶ chase(ing) self-deception ⚽️ Part 12 ⟶ revenge is bitter ⚽️ Part 13         ↳ 13.1 ⟶ assist to goal (bc idiot needs help)         ↳ 13.2 ⟶ assist to goal (bc other idiot needs help) ⚽️ Part 14 ⟶ ️for real, this time ⚽️ Part 15 ⟶ revenge turned out sweeter [final]

➽ Extras:

tom asking begging for your number

⚽️ REVISTING IS SWEETER (Masterlist)

a collection of Revenge Is Sweet written extras

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

✎ feedback is always appreciated <3

©️ t-lostinworlds, 2021

DEAD RECKONING : TODOROKI TOUYA x READER

SUMMARY: A makeup artist at a haunted maze, all you want to do is make it to the end of the season with a little extra cash in your pocket and no murder convictions on your record. Scare actor Todoroki Touya makes that last part a challenge. (7.8k) CONTENT & WARNINGS: no quirks au, halloween, enemies to lovers, fem + afab reader, slight scumbag touya, haunted maze workers, smut, semi-public sex, smoking, heavy swearing, touya likes having his hair pulled + girls who are a little mean to him, sort of good girl vs bad boy vibes, 18+ minors please dni NOTES: Happy Halloween from me!! This fic is part of the Willow's Haunted House collab. Dedicated to cat-slippered and ofmermaidstories, for workshopping what eventually became this fic with me about a thousand years ago. I’m sorry I turned Bakugou into Dabi. And I’m sorry for dedicating the now Dabi fic to you. But not sorry enough to not have done it. Love you. :)

If there was one thing you hated about Halloween, it was Todoroki Touya.

Shockingly, this was not a commonly-held sentiment, which was the only reason there even was a recurrence of Todoroki Touya darkening your Halloween seasons in the first place.

For the last three years, you’d spent your fall semester working as a makeup artist at the Musutafu haunted maze alongside a slew of other college and local kids looking to make a little extra cash. The hours were fairly flexible, and the wage covered your textbooks, with a little left over to keep you in the occasional coffee between lectures.

But your wages did not nearly cover the amount of psychic damage you had been dealt, managing Todoroki Touya’s obnoxious, sarcastic, chain-smoking ass day after day for seasons on end.

On lucky days, someone else was on Touya duty. But on unlucky ones, you found him sprawling in the plastic makeup chair opposite you, those intense blue eyes tracking you with no small amount of pleasure, like he was this afternoon.

You stopped in the doorway, a curse slipping out of you. You’d been hoping that you’d get lucky today, as the day was otherwise an excellent one. You’d invited a group of friends to do the maze with you after you got off shift, and you had been looking forward to it all week.

But it figured Touya could never let you have too good of a time.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he drawled over the noise of displeasure that escaped you. He was at least already dressed in costume, so he wouldn’t go smearing his makeup as he pulled it on, a tumble of stitches and frayed edges that had once been a dark-blue duster, but now just mostly gaped open to show the hard planes of his chest.

“I’m so sure,” you told him, averting your eyes from his pecs. You sighed, resigning yourself to his presence, and made your way in, dumping your bag on the staff room couch.

“This is a very hostile work environment you’re creating,” Touya rasped, his grin sharp. Years of chain-smoking outside the maze had left his voice even lower and raspier than when you’d first met him three years ago.

“Don’t worry, it can always get more hostile,” you told him, affecting your own sweet grin as you moved over to the vanity, digging through all the makeup and prosthetics for the ones he’d need.

Touya himself was severely scarred, which was likely why he’d applied to work at the haunted maze in the first place. You’d never asked him about his scars, but you’d heard enough gossip from the other maze workers to know that they were the product of a childhood accident, involving the burning down of his father’s—the then-and-current mayor’s—house.

He’d accentuated them with a shit load of facial piercings, and was sort of off-putting to look at the first time you caught a glimpse of him. The issue was that, once your eyes made sense of what they were seeing, he was infuriatingly handsome.

You’d heard he’d initially been unleashed on the maze with no makeup or prosthetics, and within the first evening was causing line backups, with all the parties of teen girls who were taking a little too much time lingering around his section of the maze.

So now he was subjected to prosthetics to make him uglier, a fact that he seemed to absolutely relish.

You dug out the monster prosthetic pack that gave him jutting forehead ridges. “Let’s make the outside reflect the inside, shall we,” you told him as you flapped the rubbery pieces at him, smirking your own little smirk.

Touya’s answering grin was wicked, and he relaxed back in his seat, sprawling his legs out wide in that infuriating way men had. “Think my outside is too pretty then, huh?” he asked, sapphire eyes flickering over you.

Your face went hot in a weird combination of anger and embarrassment. “I try not to think of your outside,” you told him pertly, making sure to slap the forehead piece onto him hard enough to make a splat noise.

His mouth twitched again but he let you go to work, gluing the pieces down against his face, careful not to press them to the seams of any of his scars. He was tall enough even lounging in his seat that you only had to lean over a little to focus clearly on his face, all long legs and rangy muscle.

This close, he always smelled like cigarette smoke, with an undercurrent of something rich and dark, like cinnamon or chocolate. You could never put your finger on it, but you were not about to go sniffing him at any length to figure it out, even if it was annoyingly appealing.

He’d probably love that, and would absolutely never let you live it down.

Touya’s eyes tracked you closely as you worked, but otherwise his expression was still, and you thought not for the first time that it really was too bad he was so obnoxious. He was actually quite handsome, with a soft, sensuous mouth, a blade-straight nose, and vivid blue eyes that all but glowed like the embers of a crackling fire when he was provoking you.

It was a shame he wasted all his beauty being the most annoying man on earth.

You’d heard from the other maze workers that he was relatively well-known around the area, having spent his teen years doing petty criminal shit to destabilize his father’s reelection campaigns, netting himself several jail stays and a record a mile long. He’d settled somewhat since he’d gotten a job at a piercing parlor downtown and several side gigs like the maze, but people weren’t fully convinced he’d abandoned his old ways, and he still clearly relished any opportunity to discomfort and destabilize anyone who got on his bad side.

Apparently including you.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard, sweetheart,” Touya said, those cerulean eyes blinking up at you.

You realized you’d paused over him, midway through blending his prosthetic forehead in, and another annoying little smirk rode his mouth.

You took care to roll your eyes at him, gesturing at him with your brush. “I know several places I can stick this if you’re not careful.”

Touya’s smirk melted into an unholy grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he rasped, eyes glittering up at you.

You went back to work on him with a little more force than necessary, blending hard enough that you saw his broad shoulders shift in an effort to keep his neck braced. “I doubt any time with you could be classed as good,” you said pertly, giving a final few brushes before stepping back, satisfied with your work.

The forehead made him look unhinged as he offered another smirk, leaning forward. “True—the feedback I usually get is ‘incredible’, ‘mind-blowing’, ‘earth-shattering’, ‘toe-curling’, ‘scream-inducing’—”

“Oh I’ll scream if you keep talking,” you said hotly, even as your cheeks warmed. Even with the stupid fucking forehead he was annoyingly handsome. You needed him a thousand million miles away from you before you herniated something, jumping back and forth between annoyance and attraction.

Maybe it was time to stop signing up to work here.

“Now get out of my room, I have other people waiting,” you commanded, thankful when you heard the scuff of a boot at the door confirming another maze worker waiting.

Touya didn’t look at all chastened, but he unfolded himself from the chair in an unfurling of broad shoulders and long legs. He leaned in close as he passed, voice dipping low. “See you later, sweetheart,” he said, a smile curling his mouth.

Annoyingly, his proximity crossed a bunch of the wires in your brain, and you fumbled before managing, “Not if we’re both lucky.”

“Stop, I’ll blush,” he drawled, another unholy grin splitting his cheeks before he saluted two fingers at you and ducked out of the room. The scent of smoke and cinnamon followed him, and you let out a sigh of relief, the air and your brain clearer now that he was gone.

No sooner were you free of him, however, than another problem was immediately introduced.

“So…he actually talks to you?” The other maze worker’s head poked through the door, her eyes resting on you intently. You recognized her as a local highschooler who’d just joined this season, who usually ended up getting in early enough to get her makeup done by the other artist.

You blinked. “I…unfortunately?” you answered, confused.

She stepped into the room, and you reflexively gestured her over to the chair that Touya had just abandoned.

She hummed as she took her seat, eyeing you curiously. “Wow. How’d you get him to do that? He doesn’t really talk to any of us,” she informed you.

You could feel your eyebrows lift towards your hairline. “He…doesn’t…?”

She shook her head, her pretty golden ringlets swaying with the motion. “He’ll chainsmoke with Tomura and he sometimes talks to Himiko. But the other girls—they say he just laughs and walks away if they try to chat with him.”

Well. That sounded rude enough to be true to form, you thought. But when Touya was in your makeup chair you couldn’t get him to shut the hell up. You shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that Touya had any special soft spot for you. Maybe, like a cat, he could sense who didn’t much like him and decided to latch on out of spite.

“You might be a little young for him,” you decided, going over to the vanity and digging out the prosthetics she’d need—a witch chin and a raised gorey slash that would open along one cheekbone.

“No—it’s all the other girls too. And most of the guys,” she told you. “He must like you.”

A laugh escaped you, and you turned back to her with the prosthetics in hand, a few new brushes and a white, cakey paint palette shoved beneath your elbow.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” you told her, setting everything down and applying the tacky glue to the underside of her chin prosthetic. “I think he just likes to inflict himself on people he knows it will annoy. You could act disinterested in talking to him and he’d probably come flitting right over.” The image of Touya suffering at the hands of a league of flirty high school girls pleased you—better they suck up his time and energy than you.

“I don’t know,” the girl said uncertainly. “Maybe he likes you.” But she was forced to leave it at that once you started applying her chin, making it difficult for her to speak.

You certainly didn’t think that was the case.

But the seeds of doubt had already been sown, a question that you thought would probably haunt your evening now that it had been formed. Just why did Touya talk to you if he was so standoffish with other people? And what did it mean that he made such a point of it?

You knew for sure it wasn’t because he liked you, his obnoxious manner said that well enough. But why did you get treatment that was significant enough that even the other maze workers would comment on it?

And, perhaps even more concerningly, why did the thought agitate you so much?

You decided to try your best not to think about it, and have a good time with your friends once they got there, putting Touya out of your mind. You returned to doing the girl’s makeup with vigor, suddenly as eager to get her out of your chair as you had been Touya.

She was finished in record time and she thanked you, carefully not to smile too widely lest she dislodge the prosthetics. You took in the next person waiting as she left, slowly working your way through the line of people as the hour drew ever closer to the maze’s evening opening time.

Eventually you finished up and collected your things, making your way out front to find your friends already waiting for you. They’d clearly dressed with the intent to go out after—something you hadn’t considered—their dresses short and slinky and their makeup smoky. You’d have liked to have joined, but you were still in the sweater and leggings you’d come straight from lectures in.

Maybe you would have time to go home and change after the maze.

You were scooped up into several hugs, breathing in the sweet scents of various perfumes, and informed that you absolutely did have to go home and get changed after so you could come out and get “Hallowasted!” too.

“Okay if I’m not busy peeing my pants, which monsters are the ones you did?” your roommate asked, dancing around to warm herself in the cool fall air. “I wanna see ‘em.”

You named several of your creations, conveniently leaving off Touya. You knew that if your friends took too close a look at him and figured out what he looked like under the cakey makeup and forehead prosthetic, they’d never leave the maze. You knew he sat somewhere around the end of the set up, in an alcove that had been decorated to look like an abandoned village with burned out cabins, a mess of bones dotting the ground at the side of the walkway.

You were also hoping you could pass unnoticed in the group of your friends, as there was no doubt in your mind that Touya would take special care to annoy you in particular. So you did not want your group to linger long enough for your friends to scope him out.

You would know it was him under the makeup you’d done yourself, but being cornered somewhere in the dark with the soundtrack of screams echoing in your ears would not exactly have you feeling your boldest.

Your group had dinner at the food trucks parked out front, chatting and laughing and waiting for the crowds to die down, each indulging in one drink for bravery before joining the line. Eventually you ended up at the front of the queue, late in the evening, your friends crowding in behind you, whispering nervously.

“You first,” your roommate hissed when you looked back at them questioningly. “You work here, you have to do the honors.”

You sighed, accepting your fate, making a mental note to subtly shift to the back of the pack as you made it further into the maze.

Then you were being greeted by Shigaraki Tomura, whose makeup you’d done last. He’d been given layers of prosthetic peeling skin and a scar at his mouth, and he was decorated with a layer of disembodied hands gripping him all over. He shredded your tickets, looking unenthused.

“Remember that inside the maze, none of the monsters can touch you,” he recited dully. “You are not permitted to touch them in return; do not hit, kick, push, bite, slap, lick, scratch, or otherwise assault the actors. Don’t tamper with the props, do not leave items behind. Be respectful of other guests and do not linger too long in the rooms. If you need to leave for any reason, every room or alcove has clearly-lit exits marked in red.”

His eyes briefly met yours as he waved you through, and you thought you saw a pale brow go up.

But then you were being shoved forward by your friends, several hands clinging to your arms and the back of your shirt, and you stepped forward into the dark of the hall.

The maze truly was a labyrinth—it started indoors in a pitch black room, with fake body bags hanging from the ceiling. Toga Himiko, a highschooler whose makeup you usually did, stalked you around the edges of the room, dressed in a torn school uniform with fangs peeking out of her widely grinning mouth, and a dripping knife clutched eagerly in her fingers.

Once you made it past her, the maze spilled outdoors, into a tangle of hedges and artificially-constructed set, steering you in twisting loops around the property.

You were pleased with how terrifying all the actors looked, even having done most of their prosthetics yourself, and found your heart racing as you took every new corner, found yourself freezing up and stumbling back whenever someone jumped out at you, suppressing a shriek.

Your friends participated with gusto, shrieking and ducking away from the monsters, holding you like a human shield between them and the maze workers. You would have been insulted if it hadn’t been so funny.

You made it through most of the maze with little trouble, passing through a haunted swamp, a graveyard with mummies twisting and screaming in their bindings, grasping for you. You stumbled past a man wielding a chainsaw and a set of clowns waving axes, making it through in record time thanks to the push of your frantic friends behind you.

It was only on the last leg of the maze that you finally ran into Touya.

You peered around the corner, recognizing the set up instantly. The burned out houses flickered with blue flame, lighting up the set in an eerie, unsettling sapphire light. The fake bones on the ground sat in piles of ash, glowing stark white in the light. You couldn’t spot Touya anywhere, and you slowly crept forward, trying to shepherd your friends in front of you.

You even almost thought you had been successful, until a rasping voice drawled behind you, “Hello sweetheart.”

And then your roommate screamed, bolting forward, knocking into you and sending you stumbling over a pile of the fake bones. You landed hard on your ass in the patchy grass, the wind punching out of you.

“Oh fuck—” you heard one of your friends say as she too was steamrolled, and you watched the group of them trip over one another in their desperation to get through the alcove, dissolving into chaos in a matter of seconds.

You quickly tried to get to your feet to follow, but a hiss forced its way through your teeth when you tried your ankle, a wave of sharp pain washing over you.

Oh fuck. Not good.

The tread of a boot in the grass next to you made you jump, and your head whipped up to catch sight of Touya crouching over you.

“You good down there?” he asked. His eyes glinted in the dark of the maze, and the blue light cast shadows over his features, twisting them in the dim. Your heartbeat picked up, even as your brain recognized him for who he was.

You cringed, embarrassed that you’d had to hurt yourself in his part of the maze specifically. It figured.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to climb to your feet again. Your ankle twinged in protest, and Touya must have caught the flash of pain on your face because then his hand was under your elbow, supporting you as you rose in an unexpected show of courtesy.

Although he broke the illusion immediately when he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah you look real fine,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. With the prosthetic forehead it made him look sort of demented.

“Well I’ll be fine,” you insisted, even as those blue eyes flickered over you assessingly. His fingers tightened a little on your arm before he bent down, tapping his other hand on your leg.

“Which leg, sweetheart?” he asked. “And where?”

It took you a minute to catch up to what he was asking, confused at seeing him on his haunches before you. A scream went up in the background, some terrified maze goer, and a little shiver went down your spine.

“Uh, the left ankle,” you supplied, startling when Touya’s fingers slid underneath the cuff of your legging over the aforementioned ankle, rolling it up gently. You blinked, surprised at the careful touch.

“Can’t see too well in the dark,” he announced. “But it looks like you ripped it open on something.” He peered back up at you. “Think it’s sprained?”

You shook your head. “Probably just rolled. It hurts but not like go-to-the-hospital level,” you said. “Just give me a minute, I’ll be good.”

Touya considered you for a moment, then got to his feet, moving closer. That scent of smoke and cinnamon drifted over to you, and he bent his head to look into your face.

“Much as you’re the most terrifying thing in this maze, I don’t think people are gonna wanna see you here,” he told you, a smirk cutting into his mouth. “Would ruin the experience. So we’re gonna have to get you out of here.”

You scowled up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Well no thanks for the concern, then. “I’m going, I’m going, keep your shirt on,” you told him, preemptively gritting your teeth before readying yourself to take another step.

But before you could, one of Touya’s hands was suddenly sliding under your knees, his other slipping behind your shoulder. In the next second the burning buildings were swinging wildly in front of your eyes, and then you were being hefted up into Touya’s arms. You let out a startled yelp, your own hands shooting out to grab his jacket, giving him a wild-eyed look.

“Touya—!” you garbled out, as a smile pulled at his expression.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he told you, looking a little too smug about the situation he’d just put you in. He strode towards the exit, kicking the door open with a heavy boot, carrying you down the hall and back into the building. He was hard with wiry muscle underneath you, and so deliciously warm against you. Your ears went hot with every sure, easy step he took, like carrying you was little effort for him.

Thankfully it was barely a minute before you reached the staff room, where Touya laid you out gently on the couch, much more carefully than you might have expected from him.

Your cheeks and your nose burned, flaming even hotter when he squatted down in front of you and took your ankle in his hand again.

His dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took note of your injury. In the light you could definitely see that you’d caught your ankle bone on one of the fake bones you’d tripped over, as there was a long gash up the side of it, but nothing else looked bruised or otherwise concerning. You thought you’d probably be fine in a couple hours, just a roll.

It was definitely nothing Touya had needed to princess carry you through the staff halls for!

“Don’t move,” Touya told you, and you watched, bewildered, as he stepped away, stalking over to the other side of the room where the staff lockers were. He dug out a shabby backpack, pulling something out of it, and then returned to your side, spreading out his haul on the couch next to you.

You noted a little tube of rubbing alcohol, an antiseptic cream and a bandage, as well as an ice pack. One of your eyebrows went up.

“You rob a hospital or something?” you asked reflexively, heart fluttering a little bit weirdly when Touya’s eyes flickered back up to yours. His eyelashes were long and thick, startlingly pretty.

“Nah,” he said, his gaze cutting suddenly away from yours. “Usually keep shit on hand for my burns.”

Your stomach flipped, and you realized how rude your question had been. Embarrassment welled up in a hard lump in your throat. Well shit. “Oh—fuck. Of course. I’m sorry, Touya.”

A pinch to your leg had you yelping, and his handsome face was serious when he stared back up at you, his eyes practically glowing with intensity. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

You rolled your eyes, rubbing the skin he’d pinched absentmindedly. “It wasn’t sympathy, asshole,” you said. “It was an apology for being thoughtless. Although if that’s how you’re gonna be then I take it back, geez. As if you need sympathy when every girl in this maze—” you froze, clamping your mouth shut when you realized what you’d been about to say. “Uhhhh.”

Touya’s eyes slowly slid down your face, flickering over you as another fucking obnoxious smirk started to twitch at the side of his mouth. “When every girl in this maze what?” he asked, pleasure turning his tone a little silky.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to grab the rubbing alcohol off of the couch so you didn’t have to look at him. “When every girl in this maze would like for you to shut up and stop asking questions,” you said, unscrewing the top with a deliberate focus.

Calloused fingers came up to yank the tube out of your grip, however, and Touya leaned in, his grin sharp and white.

“Lemme do it, sweetheart. Return the favor for my prosthetic,” he said. You winced, remembering how forcefully you’d applied his forehead earlier. As you braced yourself, however, his fingers brushed gently over your skin.

You suppressed a shiver at the feeling of him wiping off the blood with the rubbing alcohol, then going over it with the antibiotic cream, smearing it delicately, your nose going hot again. He took his time, careful to cover every inch, kneeling on the ground in front of you with your ankle clutched in one large hand. His duster fanned out behind him, dragging on the ground as he bent over you, but he didn’t seem to care, too absorbed in his task.

When he was done he carefully applied the bandage too, and you looked on, mystified, as he cracked the ice pack with long, strangely elegant fingers, and pressed it over your ankle bone as well.

His eyes flicked back to yours when you let out a short hiss, feeling the zing of the ice all the way in your teeth. Some of his expression looked squashed, given the obstruction of his prosthetic, but you thought he looked maybe just a little bit concerned, before he realized you were just being a baby. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to rip off his prosthetic so you could see his expression in full, and had to pin your arm to your side to stop yourself.

“This was—unexpected,” you admitted, watching him closely. “You’re…a surprisingly good nurse, Touya. Thank you.”

His answering smile was nothing short of wicked. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You fumbled with the antiseptic and sniffed pointedly, just to have something to complain about. “Well. Your bedside manner could use some work.”

Touya leaned in, his smile suddenly going dark. “Oh, angel, now that’s not what I’ve been told—”

Your palm shot out to cover his mouth, horror overriding your normal brain function. Touya just laughed into the skin of your hand, however, shockingly boyish and sweet-sounding.

You pressed harder, hissing at him to shut the hell up, until you registered the feeling of dry, raised skin under your fingers. You jumped, realizing you were pressing down on his scars.

“Shit, did I hurt you—?” you asked, yanking your hand back, only for Touya to catch your wrist. He blinked, looking surprised that he had.

“No it’s—you didn’t—” he said. His fingers shifted over yours and his eyes darted over your hand in something like shock. “They get dry and pull but they don’t—it wasn’t that.” He sounded annoyed, but not that you’d touched him. That you’d pulled away from touching him.

Somehow, that settled you. Before you understood what exactly was possessing you, you reached back in, satisfied when Touya let you. The pads of your fingers met the edge of a scar again, feeling along the seam. You carefully traced over it the way Touya’s had just traced the cut on your ankle.

Touya’s eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a slow breath. “You don’t need to touch ‘em, sweetheart,” he said finally.

He said it as lightly as he’d said all his earlier nonsense, but he’d been giving you shit for long enough that you recognized there was something deliberate about the ease of his tone this time. This wasn’t his usual, natural timbre.

“Does it bother you?” you asked.

It seemed to take him a minute to decide.

“...No,” he answered, those cerulean eyes catching on yours again. You felt like you could feel your heartbeat in your own fingers, and your skin prickled with something—annoyingly not annoyance.

“Well then shut up,” you told him. “Or I’ll pinch you right on the seam.”

Touya laughed, a slow rolling sound. “Promises promises,” he said, but he seemed more relaxed.

You felt along the contours of his face, mystified by what the hell you thought you were even doing, until you reached the edge of the prosthetic you’d applied. It only took a second for you to give in to the impulse you’d had earlier and start peeling it from his skin, slow and deliberate.

You reached down and helped yourself to the rubbing alcohol, applying it around the prosthetic, letting it dissolve the adhesive before pulling gently. Shockingly, Touya let you do it. He just sat there, watching you with an intensity you’d never experienced before, hardly blinking.

You kept careful track of the prosthetic, unable to look him in the eye, focusing on rubbing off the makeup you’d used to blend it in for good measure. You tried not to examine the weirdly satisfied feeling that settled in your stomach when his natural face was visible to you again.

It was probably just his looks. He really was so handsome for such a grating personality.

You set the prosthetic aside, lost on where to go from here. Touya probably thought you were so fucking weird for just like, rubbing his face like he was some kind of cat. He certainly looked like he had no idea what to do now, which was such a departure from his usually snotty self-assurance that it threw you for an even bigger loop.

“Always thought you’d be a little rougher with me, sweetheart,” Touya finally managed, flashing you a smirk. It looked a little smaller than usual though, like he was drawing it up like a shield, but your hackles raised instantly, like always.

You always, always responded to him.

“Trust me, that can be arranged,” you promised darkly, trying to crack your knuckles. Only one of them crackled obligingly, however, and Touya blinked, before laughing again.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning in closer. Cigarette smoke and cinnamon clouded your senses, fogging up your brain. “Gonna fuck me up nice and good, sweetheart?”

You dredged around for something snarky to say, but words were suddenly failing you as those infuriatingly pretty features drew closer. Seriously could a makeup artist not catch a break around here?

“Uhhh,” was all you managed, your brain bluescreening, as Touya huffed a laugh, exhaling over your mouth.

“Shut up,” you finally spat out, catching a fistful of that black hair. Touya groaned, however, looking like he liked that of all things, and a red hot flash of something jolted through you.

There was a pause, then, a tiny sliver of a moment where it seemed like one of you might pull back—move away and snipe at one another from a safer distance.

Things somehow seemed to be spiraling out of control, in a way you hadn’t expected, after just one kind gesture from him. You didn’t really understand how you’d suddenly found yourself with him leaning over you, your hand pulling at his hair, but if you had any good sense you’d have pulled away immediately and told him something extra mean, just for good measure.

Except then Touya opened his mouth and escalated things, as usual.

“Make me,” he said, the most absolutely heinous line of all time. You yanked his hair harder, deeply disgusted that he’d try that on you.

And then, like a thread had snapped, you leaned forward and crushed your mouth to his.

Touya reacted like a lightning strike. He surged up over you, weighing you down into the staff room couch. He tasted like spearmint muddled under bitter smoke, and he was broader than he looked under that duster, heavy with lean muscle. You could feel every kilo of it press you down into the cushions as Touya licked hot and filthy into your mouth.

His tongue curled around yours, wet and teasing, and he exhaled on a groan like he’d never tasted anything better. It sent little sparks of electricity jittering up your spine, especially as he shifted between your thighs, that trim waist slotting between them perfectly.

“Fuck, angel,” he said, his tone somewhere between sweet and nasty. “Wanted me this whole time, huh?”

You yanked harder on his hair, telling him to shut up, but the swelling of something hard against your thigh told you he only liked that more. “You are so nasty,” you told him, and you could feel his mouth curl into a wicked grin against the side of your face, before he leaned in and bit the shell of your ear, grinding the evidence of his interest even harder into your thigh.

“I can show you nasty, sweetheart,” he promised, his tone going silky-soft again. A calloused hand slid up into your shirt brazenly, long fingers teasing the underside of your bra. When you didn’t immediately try to yank him out of there he wiggled in further, until his fingers met your nipples, and he got even harder against your leg.

He pinched carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escaped you was muffled into his mouth. He kissed you harder as your nipples tightened, pebbling in his fingers, something far too satisfied filling the air around you. His hips canted up, grinding himself into you again, this time a little closer to your core.

Your own hips shifted, moving to increase the friction, trying to shift him closer to your center. His fingers and tongue teased you, each flick of his tongue mirroring the caress of a finger, the soft pinch of his index and thumb.

You couldn’t have controlled yourself if you wanted, too focused on the sensations he was drawing from you, the desperate need to get closer to him though you were already pressed together from mouth to shin. You realized you’d been pulling at his coat when he finally withdrew from your shirt and let you yank it down his arms, exposing a patchwork of scars over dense, mouth-wateringly well-defined muscle.

You inhaled sharply, and Touya paused for a minute—until he seemed to realize that you were fixated on the shape of his arm, rather than the purple bruise of scar tissue. The quickening of his grin in the corner of your vision told you that you’d pleased him.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice obnoxiously sweet. “Want to see the rest of me, angel?”

You ripped your eyes off of his arm to glare at him, which only made his grin wider. The fluorescent lights behind him limned his hair in a pale light, blinding you when he moved his head—and all of a sudden you recalled where you were and what you were doing.

“Here? No! Touya, anyone could walk in!” you said, trying to scramble out from beneath him.

Touya caught you around the thigh, hauling you back underneath him. You noticed he was careful to angle your leg up so you didn’t catch your ankle against the arm of the couch.

“This is far from the worst thing I’ve done in a public place,” he said, laying himself back out over you.

You pushed at his shoulder though, casting a worried glance back at the door. “I am not trying to get fired,” you hissed, even as you shivered with the delicious heat of him over you.

Touya sighed through his nose, and then heaved himself off the couch. You watched him seize the plastic makeup chair and haul it over to the door, stuffing it under the knob at an angle so that it held the lock in place. Then he turned around and prowled right back to you with predatory intent. Your stomach fluttered.

“Better, angel?” he asked, tone soft.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of nodding, but he seemed to know what you wanted anyway, leaning back in to kiss you fiercely.

You melted into the feeling of his mouth over yours, kissing him back just as passionately. You hated how good he was at that, hated how pretty he was under all those scars and piercings, hated how his obnoxious personality wasn’t even a factor in what you wanted to do with him right now.

Touya groaned again when you pulled at a fistful of his dark hair, and then you were dragging him down to the couch and climbing into his lap. Touya seized your left leg as you did, pointedly guiding your ankle away from the edge of the seat, and it only inflamed your desire for him.

“Like you a whole lot better like this,” he said into your mouth, as calloused fingers slid into your leggings.

Your reply was cut off by a moan as he traced his index finger lightly over the center of your panties, before pressing down firmly over your clit. A thousand little points of electricity lit up under your skin, and you shifted into his hand unthinkingly.

A smile formed against your lips, and it was only Touya’s hand making its way into your panties that suppressed the annoyed buzz that started in the back of your brain.

“You kick up such a fuss, sweetheart, but look at what you really think of me,” Touya purred as his fingers slid up into your incriminatingly wet folds. “All this for me, angel?”

You wanted to bite him for his cheek but you feared breaking the skin of his scars, so you settled for giving him a pointed look. He just laughed, his smile smug.

“I’ll show you what I’ve really thought of you too, sweetheart,” he promised, taking hold of your leg again to slide your leggings and panties down. He settled you back over the hard line in his pants, grabbing your hips and pulling you firmly down over it, grinning.

“Love when you’re a spitfire little fucking brat. I’ve imagined taking you right over the vanity every single day for the last three years, sweetheart. Taking you against the lockers and then right here over the couch. Fucking you so hard that you scream and everyone comes running in to see you squirming and crying and begging on my cock, and you want it so much that you don’t even care—”

He laughed when he felt you clench up in his lap, working to unbuckle his belt and free himself, immediately angling you over him. “You want that too, sweetheart? Want to see if I can make you scream so loud that people come to see what’s wrong?”

“My god you never shut up,” you told him, pointedly avoiding the question. In lieu of an answer, you shifted, guiding him to your center and sinking down onto him instead. You watched with satisfaction as he threw his head back and hissed at the feeling of you slipping down around him.

“Fffffffffffuck,” he said to the ceiling, a hand tightening in your sweater. You had to agree, gritting your teeth with the delicious slide of him inside of you, hot and thick and full and perfect. You leaned in, putting your mouth over the scar tissue on his neck, smirking when he exhaled shakily again.

“I think,” Touya huffed. “I should have put you over my lap three fucking years ago.”

You thought back to your first glimpse of him, flicking ash at you as he chainsmoked outside the maze entrance, and thought you would have probably gouged his eyes out if he had tried. Honestly he’d barely scraped together enough good will with his little ankle treatment as it was.

But maybe this is what that girl had been talking about, when she said Touya didn’t talk to anyone besides you. Had he really been more into you than he’d let on, these three years? Is that why he’d been at your throat this entire time?

The thought was lost when Touya’s hips lifted into yours, grinding himself into you just right, and your head fell back with a shivery moan. Touya’s mouth found the skin of your throat and sucked as he bucked up into you, picking up into a faster pace. You rocked back and forth over his lap, guided by Touya’s grip on your hips, relishing in the feel of him inside of you.

His fingers slid back down, brushing over your clit, and you bit down a yelp as he dragged his thumb over it firmly.

“That’s it,” he said, biting down softly on your neck. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth instead as he slid in and out of you, those clever fingers working you deftly. He pinched softly, then swirled the pad of his thumb firmly over your clit again, groaning and pounding up into you. “I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Always want to hear your mean little mouth.”

“Touya—shut up—” you panted as he moved you how he wanted, played you like an instrument. Between his fingers and the hard press of him inside you, you felt like you couldn’t escape the pleasure, the feeling mounting within you. No matter how you moved your hips, his fingers were there to meet you, rubbing maddening circles, teasing you mercilessly, and he filled you so good that it felt like he was pressing against that spot from the inside too.

You writhed with the feel of him, as he steadily covered your neck and shoulders with marks of his attention. You couldn’t help but moan, much much louder than you would have liked, and Touya leaned back to look at you again, looking pleased.

“That’s it, yeah,” he said, another grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Louder for me, sweetheart. Want you to come for me.”

You huffed, unable to do anything but squirm in his lap, chasing the feeling closer, ever closer to the edge. You weren’t going to let his infuriating attitude ruin this for you, not when you were so close—

Without input from your brain, your hand reached out to grab a fistful of Touya’s hair again and his hips stuttered, slamming up into you with more force than he had previously. He looked a little shocked, and then a little dazed, and the grip he had on the side of your hip tightened almost to the point of bruising as he forced you down onto him harder, gasping.

“Fuck, yeah, sweetheart—fuck yes,” he rasped.

His fingers rubbed you harder, and his hips slapped up into you frantically. The uptick in intensity had your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, and you bit your palm to keep the sounds in.

Touya ground into you with a renewed fervor, and it was only another matter of seconds before something inside of you was being wrenched loose. You lost the grip on your control, every nerve ending in your body lighting up and coming alive, singing with pleasure. You seized up, crying, “Oh my god, Touya!” and then you were cumming hard, harder than you ever had, Touya’s talented fingers still working you, his cock still fucking you mercilessly.

Touya swore, spitting out your name like a curse, and then again in almost reverent tones, before he too was following you right off the edge. He slammed you down on him once, twice, and then he was cumming too—shivering against you as he held you tight against him.

The silence of the room around you was ringing, once you managed to return to yourself. Touya was a long, hot, hard wall of muscle between your thighs, his hair mussed and a patch of makeup you’d missed smearing into the hair at his temple. His cheeks were flush with effort over the seam of his scars, and he looked, irritatingly, even more beautiful than he usually did.

Like he could sense what you were thinking, the corner of his mouth rose as those cerulean eyes searched over you, blinking like a pleased cat.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I knew I liked you mean,” he said, his raspy tone rougher than normal.

“And I don’t like you at all,” you sniffed, though you knew the protest was pointless when he was quite literally softening inside of you. You let go of his hair, remembering yourself.

“Aww angel don’t be like that,” he drawled, his grin widening. He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss over your mouth. “I can make it up to you—all three years, if you’ll let me.”

You knew he felt your involuntary shiver, pressed up against you like he was. And that was definitely answer enough for him, as his smile went more handsome and boyish than you’d ever seen it. You hated that you liked it.

“I’ll clean up and clock out,” Touya told you, gingerly helping you off of him and back into your leggings, his eyes fixating a little too closely on your legs as you did so. “You tell your friends you’re gonna go home and rest that ankle. And I’ll pick you up out front, angel.”

You flushed, embarrassed that you’d completely forgotten that you were at work, and you’d intended to go out bar hopping after. But you figured you could be forgiven just this one time.

“Fine,” you said, though your insides were feeling a little fluttery at the thought of leaving with Touya. “But I expect penitence or there’s going to be a reckoning.” You supposed you were owed, for all these years of suffering.

Touya looked down at you from under his lashes, dark and beautiful and still as infuriating as ever. “I’ll give you my best, sweetheart. Over and over until you can’t even walk,” he promised, “Gotta keep you off that ankle, after all.”

You flushed again, yanking your sweater down over your leggings, and fled out the door. Touya’s laughter floated after you, sounding pleased.

You sped up your pace, your ears burning.

And if you were actually rushing not to get away from him, but to return to him sooner? Well, then, nobody needed to know that but you.

🍉 fics for gaza 🍉

i really want to try and help as much as i can to raise money and donations for gaza, and @ficsforgaza is running an amazing scheme where you can request a fic/ sponsor a wip through donations. my rate is $5 per 500 words to any of the verified fundraisers listed here !! if you can't request/donate anything, then that's totally okay, but please do share and reblog !!

donation link 1 :: link 2 :: link 3 :: link 4

just to reiterate, the money does NOT go to me. you donate directly one of the fundraisers linked above.

feel free to pop into my ask box or my dms to request a matchup/fic.

if i write more than the requested words, then that's totally on me, and ill cover the rest of the donations $1 per extra 100 words (with proof).

RULES for requesting ::

first and foremost, a screenshot of your donation (please do NOT forget to censor your personal details, and please don't use the same screenshot to request multiple fics), these will NOT be posted publicly.

please also include the link to the page you donated to.

description of what you'd like me to write (can be as detailed as you want)

e.g: headcanons, one-shot, drabble + fem/gn reader

the fandom / character(s) if you want multiple

whether you'd like sfw / suggestive / crack / angst (please note i don't write hard-core nsfw)

i am also accepting requests for matchups, and the max words for that will be 1000 words [500 words for drabble and 500 words for headcanons]. what you need to include for a matchup has been listed in the example below.

request example :: hi :) hope you're well. id like to request a sfw drabble of gojo meeting his newborn daughter with a female reader. i've included proof of my $5 donation to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza. my personal details are all censored as well. thank you very much. [then include the screenshot in your ask/dm]

suggestive request example :: hi :) hope you're well. id like to request a suggestive drabble of choso making out with a female reader. i've included proof of my $5 donation to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza. my personal details are all censored as well. thank you very much. [then include the screenshot in your ask/dm]

matchup example :: hi :) i hope you're well. i'd like to request a (romantic/platonic) matchup for (jjk/aot/bnha/haikyuu). i have included a screenshot of my $5 donation to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza. my personal details have been censored. my pronouns are (insert pronouns), my gender preference is (male/female), and my personality type is (mbti personality type). my love language is (love language) my hobbies are (insert hobbies in as much detail as you want). my top 3 pet peeves/icks are (include pet peeves and icks). here are 3+ fun facts about me (include three or more fun facts in as much detail as you want). i am (include your appearance in as much detail as possible if you've donated $10 for a drabble e.g hair types, hijabi, skin colour etc). could you please avoid the following matchups (insert characters to avoid). [please also include any other details that you want and feel free to make it as long as you want !! and include the screenshot of your donation too]

GUIDLINES for requesting ::

i do NOT write nsfw works, but i am open to suggestive requests

the max words i'll write is 2000 words, but please feel free to donate as much as you can

i write gender-neutral and female reader so please include which one you'd like me to write.

i am open to writing specific readers (e.g. hijabi , tall , short , south asian , curvy)

i'll try my best to finish your requests as soon as possible but please bear with me (i'll probaby create a spreadsheet where you can track the progress of all my requests/wips)

if i write more than the requested words, then that's totally on me, and ill cover the rest of the donations $1 per extra 100 words (with proof)

i do NOT accept requests from blank blogs/blogs with no indication of age (must have age in bio or somewhere on your blog).

i will accept asks and dms but asks must NOT be anonymous !!

CONTENT/CHARACTER GUILDLINES for requesting ::

CHARACTERS:

jujutsu kaisen: sfw + suggestive : toji , choso , gojo , geto , nanami , higuruma , sukuna , mahito , shoko

jujutsu kaisen: sfw ONLY : nobara , maki , inumaki , yuuta , itadori , megumi

haikyuu: sfw + suggestive : daichi , hinata , kageyama , tsukishima , sugawara , oikawa , iwaizumi , ushijima , kuroo , kenma , bokuto , akaashi , osamu , atsumu , kita , suna , sakusa , aran

my hero academia: sfw + suggestive : most pro-heroes , class 1-A , dabi , shigaraki

misc: sfw + suggestive : eren , levi , zeke , jean , reiner , mikasa , armin , erwin , saitama (opm)

depending on the characters, i am open to writing for percy jackson/heroes of olympus

CONTENT:

sfw: domestic bliss, general fluff, sick fics, nonsexual intimacy (cuddling, kissing etc), random headcanons about characters, pregnancy/family fics, platonic situations, pretty much anything sfw i'm open to

suggestive: making out, light sexual intimacy (nothing hard-core)

angst: major character death, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort

crack: any silly little scenarios/ideas you might have.

HARD NO'S:

anything nsfw - oral / penetration / sexual nudity

male reader (i'm sorry but i dont think i'll be able to accurately portray a male reader)

anything military/war related

minor x adult

domestic/physical abuse against reader (by requested character)

alcohol / drug abuse

incest

yandere / noncon

any explicit kinks

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

cw: minors dni

love island bkg a week in being coupled with him and you both are obsessed with each other. always so touchy feely, lingering hands on your ass in the kitchen, back hugs when he’s brushing his teeth and your hand drifting across his chest. being stuck together 24/7 makes everything feel so much more intense. sure you would have dated him on the outside but living together so soon has you always feeling like the L word is on the tip of your tongue.

anyway, bakugou wouldn’t describe himself as a particularly horny person. he’d say he gets horny the regular amount but today has really been testing his limits and you haven’t caught on. your dress tonight has been gorgeous, a lovely green that makes your ass fat and you wore this body glitter that made you look edible. you’ve probably shared way too many kisses on the daybeds and now he’s stuck in his shared bed with you waiting for the lights to finally turn off.

when the room finally settles into pitch black, your arm stretches over his upper chest in a sleepy hug.

bakugou grunts.

“what’s wrong?” you whisper and he can smell the mint from your toothpaste. your smooth leg stretches over his waist.

“so fuckin’ tired of sharin’ a room with ten people.” bakugou whispering makes his voice deeper, darker. you look up at him, making out the shape of his features as your eyes adjust. you squish closer to him and a thick bicep circles around your back.

“hm? what do you mean?”

you lock eyes with him in the darkness and you immediately know what he means.

“i don’t like the idea of gettin’ you off with an audience.”

your heart rattles against your chest and you don’t mean to adjust your body again but you do, hips in the position to hump his side but you don’t.

“why would you bring it up if you won’t do it?” you whisper whine, inching you face towards his.

so far you’ve only made out a lot and groped each other a lot. you definitely wouldn’t mind the feeling of his fingers or possibly more… knowing exactly how he’d fuck.

bakugou exhales from the pit of his chest, careful not to bring attention to you too. he shifts over so hes facing you directly to crush his face to yours. it’s a make out that goes straight to your clit and has you imagining being touched all over. his tongue is warm against yours and you don’t have it in you to care about the noise.

his hand finds your ass, sneaking right between your legs but pausing. you lift your leg over his hip, giving him all the access he needs.

“wanna touch you so fuckin’ bad,” he moans into your mouth and it takes everything inside of you not to moan loudly. moan like you would in the privacy of your bedroom with a boy your insanely attracted to.

“do it,” you sigh desperately, no longer caring that you’re about to have sex with other people in a room. you’re on love island, that’s what happens. “do it katsuki.”

bakugou’s eyes widen before lazing. you have him so fucked up. the first time he touches you and you have to stay quiet. he needs to find a way to get into that hideaway.

“okay, baby,” he says before slotting his mouth over yours and sliding two fingers pass your asscheeks and right into the warmth between your legs. it’s a delight for him to just feel you so intimately and it definitely has him straightening like a pole at you going limp on his face.

“fuck,” you mumble, deciding to rest your head on his shoulder and hug him tightly. your leg locks around his waist, your fingers raking through the hair on his nape. you bite your lip hard when he presses against your stomach.

“sorry,” he grunts but you shake your head.

“i want you,”

“you’re killin’ me.”

there’s hot heavy breaths between you both, a thin layer of sweat forming on bakugou’s forehead.

as slow as he can without creating much noise, he flexes his fingers in and out of you. a rhythm that is as blissful as it is torturous.

a whine escapes you. definitely loud enough for the two beds beside you to hear if they’re not asleep already.

“quiet, baby,” he mumbles but he can’t help but say more, “you’re so beautiful, all of you.”

you hitch your leg higher on his waist, ready to grind into the palm of his hand.

“make me come,” you whisper into his neck, your body burning from unadulterated desire pumping through you.

bakugou takes that as a mission he must complete, he needs to see you, feel you fall apart on his fingers.

bakugou thrusts his fingers in and out, curling them to brush the tips against your walls. he measures how you’re feeling from how your breathing switches, the halts and pitch changes. then your thigh tensing on his hip and your fingers twitching at his shoulder.

“katsuki,” you breathe softly.

“i know, baby.”

as silent as you can, you orgasm on his fingers. your whole body shakes, pleasure ripping through you like rough waves crashing against rocks. your breath increases in pitch and you don’t realise you’re biting down on bakugou’s shoulders as you clench to keep him inside.

“oh. ohhh,”’

“cmon, you good?”

bakugou slowly slides out of you and you tilt your head to look at him. you’re stunning with your sleepy eyes and shiny face from your night moisturiser. a kiss on your cheek, then your lips.

“we’re gonna get the hideaway. i’ll ask the producers if i need to,” you whisper, exhaustion about to knock you out.

you wake up to a bright light and a pillow being thrown in your face from your friend across from you.

“what? what was that for!?”

“we heard you last night. more katsuki more!”

you fight your embarrassment back, “like you haven’t done worse!”

bakugou doesn’t care, hugging your body with closed eyes as you socialise with everyone in the morning.

Thank you for the tag 🙌

Tagging: @dabixobsessed

Characters I loved in 2020:

Characters I loved in 2021:

Characters I loved in 2022:

Characters I loved in 2023:

Small game since I’m bored

Reblog with the characters you’ve loved throughout the years~

Character I loved in 2020:

Character I loved in 2021:

Character I loved in 2022:

Character I loved in 2023:

Well- me n him are 4 lifers

🏷️ tagging: @the-milk-anon @dabislittlebeaniebaby @mossy-opal @malewifetouya @shockinglysubmissive @daniidil @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @minninugget and anyone who wants to!

Two Rings and a Promise - Part 1

Prince!Touya x Duchess!Reader

Warnings: talks of marriage, arson, people being burnt to death (not reader), flashbacks, angst, reader and Touya got engaged as children (like it used to be done in the past between royals and nobles)

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Header by @pricetagofficial

Note: I accidentally published this instead of saving it as a draft, but it was basically done, save for a few details, so screw it. Biggest thank yous to @sparklytamaki for being my beta reader and helping me with writing this for over a year. This is also for @feitanporter, @dabisqueen, @crimsonkenjii-writes, and @pricetagofficial who have been meaning to read it! Thank you all for your patience!

You stare back at yourself through the mirror, focusing on your maids finishing the final touches on your makeup and jewelry. Wearing your favorite color, you are supposed to show a happy face for this occasion. You can’t even practice faking a smile for the crowd gathered downstairs waiting for you.

This is not how you expected your wedding to go. But then again, your dream marriage was never to happen. You had envisioned yourself in a pretty white dress, comfortable enough to allow you to run in an open field, wearing flowers on your head, holding hands with the one you had chosen to marry. It seemed like child’s play, looking back, but you and Touya were serious making that promise to yourselves. To wait until you were old enough to exchange real vows in front of a real priest on a real altar. Not because it suited your parents’ interests, but because it was what you wanted. Politics be damned, you made a choice as to what to do with your lives.

A bitter smile distorted your face as you remembered. None of your maids dared asking about it; they simply carried on with their work in silence. You looked down at your left hand and the ring that was already placed on your finger. A precious aquamarine stone set among small diamonds within a circular arrangement on a silver band. You recall stealing it from your mother’s dressing room, along with its match from your father’s. Another silver ring, the same type of stone in the same shape, but with a simpler setting. The image of Touya’s face lightening up when you gave it to him, showing him yours and telling him how these rings were proof of your promises; that look in his eyes, a blessing at that time, hasn’t stopped haunting you since. It was the image of a boy finally learning somebody wanted him. And you did want him. Maybe not during your first meeting -a very awkward playdate arranged by his father the King and your father the Duke-, but definitely after a few years, when you had become the best of friends. Two lonely children keeping each other company, in a pleasant game you were sure was gonna last forever.

Oh, silly child. Soon you will learn what it is to live in the real world.

A sob escapes from the bottom of your chest as you take the ring off, never to wear it again. You chastise yourself for this display of emotion, trying to stifle it as you tie a simple chain around the ring, then your neck. You tried not to get too worked up: after all, the wedding wasn’t taking place until tomorrow night. Tonight was just a feast held in your new fiancé’s honor, to welcome him into your lands before welcoming him into your bed. One of your uncle’s eccentricities, you suppose. He’s always looking for any excuse to create displays of grandeur to impress foreigners, especially if the money to pay for them came from someone else’s pocket. After both your parents died, your uncle took over your estate -but only until you turned of age, he assured you. He promised he would only take your best interests in mind. You were still a child back then, and needed someone to rely on. So you believed him, and let him into your home. You could have never guessed he would overstay his welcome, up to a few years into your adulthood.

You hid the ring inside your corset, closer to your heart, where it would rest for the rest of your days, next to Touya’s memory. You took a deep breath and slightly raised your head as you stared at yourself through the mirror once again.

They will never take him away from you.

Looking perfect, you adopted a serene, neutral expression, adequate enough to greet your guests downstairs.

This was to be a long night.

Haunting. That is how you would describe this entire ordeal. A haunting circus in which everyone mocked your pain under the guise of a celebration. Sitting on your banquet chair for the past two hours or so, you refused to be a part of it, despite your body going numb. Paying no mind to their ghoulish smiles, barely acknowledging their empty congratulations - this was a line of clowns in their best clothes that seemed to be endless as the night dragged on.

You wished you could disappear.

Somewhere, in your haze, you could hear children running around. Servants’ sons and daughters, laughing merrily as if they had a big secret among themselves, like backstage workers who knew the trick behind every performance, amazing the audience. You were once their age, right? Running about carelessly with your friends, play-pretending to be someone else, pushing each other on swings, sneaking out to steal treats from the kitchen, talking about everything and nothing... It was another life, one you can never return to.

“Milady, look!” a cheerful voice pulled you out of your stupor. Looking down, you see a tiny crowd of around 5 children surrounding your seat, looking up at you, expectantly. One of them, the youngest of the girls, was holding out a small bouquet of wildflowers, waiting for you to take it. “It’s for you! We spent all morning picking them in the fields!”

Alas, the first genuine smile of the night broke into your face. You took the flowers and brought them closer to your face to enjoy their sweet smell.

"Thank you, dear." you replied with a soft tone. "They're beautiful. I hope you didn't go through too much trouble finding them."

"My lady, is it true you're leaving us?" a concerned boy stepped forward to ask.

You blinked twice, not expecting them to know about this. But then again, it's only natural they do. Your wedding has been the only talk at your estate these past few weeks.

"Why... I'm afraid I am." you admitted sheepishly.

"But why?!" another girl stepped forward.

"Because I am getting married tomorrow, to a Count that is not from around here. And well... when a woman marries a man, she leaves her own home to move into his."

"But what if she doesn't want to?"

You were left wordless at this. That was a good question.

"Children!" a worried maid came running along. "What are you doing here, bothering the Duchess? It is way past your bedtime." she managed to gather the kids around and take them away. "I'm so sorry, your Grace, I could have sworn they were asleep-"

"It's fine, really." you intervened, amused. "They just came to present me with these." you showed off your flowers. "They have been very kind to me. Tell them I will stop by to say goodbye tomorrow, that will settle them."

"O-of course, my Lady."

"One more thing, before you go. Could you bring me another glass of wine? Better yet, bring the whole pitcher, please."

The young maid furrowed her brow at this, yet she bowed and made her way back to the kitchen.

Your drink arrived, but you couldn’t get that girl’s question out of your head.

“What if she doesn’t want to?”

It did not matter.

“But I don’t want to go!” you sobbed while your mother struggled to tie your coat on - the maids already worn out from your fighting against getting dressed to leave at once. “I know, darling, but this is something we must do, whether we like it or not.” she tried to reason with you.

“But why?!”

“Because we must obey the King’s orders. He commanded that you moved to live at Court-”

“But I don’t want to live with the King!” you started bawling again. “He scares me!” An ill-tempered, loud-spoken giant with cold blue eyes and a flaming beard, he was a sore sight to behold whenever he showed up. Had he not had the respect of all his courtiers, anyone would have mistaken him for an ogre.

Your mother scoffed, amused. “I know. He scares me too, but you won’t be living with him.” you stop struggling, confused. “Instead, you’ll move in with his children. You remember them, right? Princess Fuyumi and Prince Touya.” she emphasized on that last name. “You have played together when they’ve come to visit us here. Now you’ll get to play with them whenever you want, only this time in their palace.” she finally managed to lace your coat closed.

You sniffled. “I want to stay with you...”

“I know, darling.” she picked you up in her arms. “But sometimes we must do things we don’t want to. You know why?” you shook your head. “Because they’re what’s right, even if they don’t seem like that at first. In the long run, you’ll see they were for the best.” she kissed the top of your head. “I promise your father and I will come visit you at the first chance we get. But I bet that, with your new friends, you’ll barely have time to miss us.”

You didn’t think so, but stayed quiet. Your mother was making an effort to comfort and encourage you, but it wasn’t fully working. She smiled and you tried to follow, pretending her words had their desired effect. You learned something important: what you want did not matter. All you had to do in life was to smile and let yourself get carried away by the decisions of others.

"I see you have a way with children." your fiancé the Count invited himself to sit next to you. Your smile faded. "That's endearing."

You held your breath, expecting another comment discussing you having children in the near future. It never came: just him staring at you.

"Hm." was all that came out of your mouth.

He sighed in disappointment.

"Could you please use more than one syllable when talking to me?"

You took a sip of your wine and finally turned around to look at him.

"I could."

He sighed again, shaking his head.

"I know that the circumstances leading to our engagement were not... ideal.” he started. “But that doesn’t mean we should start this marriage on bad terms.”

“I thought we already did. What, with everything you did in order to force me to accept your hand.”

“I know it may seem like I forced you, but-”

“You and my uncle, plotting behind my back.” you interrupted.

“Well, what choice did I have?” he snapped.

“You could have simply asked me to marry you, like any decent man would.”

“I did! Several times! But you rejected me every single one of them.”

“And you didn’t get the hint?” you asked sarcastically.

He grunted, exasperated by now. “All I want is a peaceful, loving marriage...”

“Then find someone else to marry.” you interrupted again, beyond done with this conversation. “Someone who truly wants you.”

“But I want you!” he yelled, fist banging on the table, turning several heads into his direction.

Despite this embarrassing moment, you remained with a calm demeanor. “And that is exactly what you are getting, so I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

He stared at you, eyes fuming, not believing what you just said. You ignored him, leaving your seat but taking your drink with you.

“Ah, my dear Count!” your uncle’s loud voice startled you as he barged in. “Please excuse my niece’s behavior. She’s always had an attitude, especially when nervous, but that is normal among young women these days.” you scoffed. “I do see several guests that have been meaning to congratulate you all night. Why don’t you go over to greet them while I talk with the Duchess? It won’t be long, I promise.”

The Count obliged, nodding at the two of you before walking away. You immediately seized the opportunity to do the same, but were promptly grabbed into staying.

“What is your problem?” your uncle’s tone shifted into something less cordial and more menacing. It didn’t phase you, though.

“I could ask you the same, to both of you. Everything is going your way and yet you’re still complaining-”

“It’s because of you! Your sour face ruins the mood for everyone!”

“So? What am I supposed to do? Nobody said anything about me having to look happy tonight. But don’t worry: if I leave, none of you will have to see how I really feel about all this nonsense. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Now, you listen to me girl.” he tightened his grip on your arm, applying enough pressure to make it hurt and surely leave a bruise afterwards -something that used to make you cry when you were younger, but now it was all the same. “With everything I have done to make a good match for you, you should be grateful I managed to secure this marriage-.”

You laughed. “You call that a good match? Seriously? And who asked you to do all that work in the first place? You didn’t even consult me about it, instead you simply decided it was the best-”

“The best thing for you!” he interrupted.

“For you and your plans to keep running this estate, my property, as yours and yours alone.” You corrected, voice raising. “Now that I’m old enough to take over my position as Duchess, everyone wonders why I haven’t. So, instead of letting them know what an usurping piece of shit you are, you sell me off to the first asshole desperate enough to play dirty and help you evict me out of my own home.”

“Enough!” he raised his hand while pulling you closer to make sure you took the hit. A subconscious reaction, he stopped halfway through, upon remembering you weren’t alone in the room.

You scoffed, shoving him, and releasing yourself from his grasp. Wine had spilled all over your dress.

“Tomorrow you will get what you want: I will be gone, having become someone else’s problem. And if there is one good thing coming out of this is that I will never have to see your fucking face ever again!” You ended up yelling at him, not caring about everyone’s gazes placed on you.

Just as your voice boomed, the sound of an explosion could be heard all over the great hall. Everyone went silent, confusion rising like a cloud of smoke. Another explosion followed; this time accompanied by agonizing screams of dying men. It was close. Close enough to rattle the entire room. You looked at your uncle, whose eyes were set on the Count, before falling on you. He then left your side to announce: “Beloved guests, please remain seated. Rest assured you are safe here. I will inquire with the Head Guard and get to the bottom of this.” Another roar interrupted him.

A bright blue flare blew the doors open, pushing forward whoever was standing near and throwing in a couple of carbonized corpses. Panic instantly rose at the sight of it; you choked a scream by covering your mouth with your trembling hands. The guests wasted no time escaping through the side doors. You stood still, looking back at your servants and ladies fleeing to safety. The kitchen maid looked at you, hesitant on leaving you behind. You quietly nodded, signaling it was okay. Whoever was intruding, it was up to you to deal with them.

A tall, dark figure walked among the flames and smoke. He strolled in so casually, hands inside the pockets of his large black coat, with an uncaring, almost bored-looking expression.

No secret to who he was. Dabi. A villain fitting his description, notorious for his destructive power -one you never expected to witness firsthand. His looks characterized him just as well as his flames did: messy black hair framing his face, dark rugged patches of burnt skin contrasting with healthy-looking one. You couldn’t help but to wonder about the scars: did they hurt? How long did he have them for? What’s their story?

All those questions were thrown aside once you managed to look into his eyes. Something about them resonated with you. A chilling shade of light blue, the more you looked at them, the more they drew you in, like a pull or hypnosis.

He scanned you up and down before letting his gaze inspect the rest of the room.

“So I guess the party’s over, huh?” was the first thing he said, coated with sarcasm. But he wasn’t wrong. Only you, your uncle and the Count stood in front of him.

“What are you doing here, villain?” your uncle asked with a hint of disgust. “We want no business with those of your kind.”

The villain in question ignored him, taking his time to walk over to you.

“I heard you’re getting married… tomorrow, right?”

You pursed your lips tightly, just nodding as a response, not breaking eye contact.

"To whom? Him?" he lazily pointed at your groom-to-be.

You nodded again, this time managing to let out a few words.

"That's the plan..."

He took another look at the Count, then turned back with a scoff. His soft giggles echoed in the room.

"Yeah... that's not going to happen." He smiled at the men next to you.

"How dare you?" exclaimed your insulted fiancé. "You have no right-"

Dabi lifted a fiery fist in his direction; enough to shut him up.

"Be honest with me." he continued, azure eyes never leaving you. "Was this your idea?"

"Say nothing!" your uncle ordered. "Not a word to this villain!"

You gulped, tongue tied. You, usually speaking your mind, were at a loss of words, not knowing if you should speak up or not. You looked at your uncle, then the Count, with a feeling that whatever you said next will reflect on them. However hateful they were, you dreaded the idea of them getting harmed because of you.

“I asked you a question.” Dabi's face got closer to yours, while his tone became more commanding. He startled you, but you quickly regained your composure. "Did you choose him?"

You shook your head, brows creasing. "No. I never wanted to get married at all. Not to anyone." Somehow, all your truths came spilling out.

He smiled.

"Is that so? Well, Y/N... I guess that means I arrived at a good time, then." he gave a few steps back.

"What do you mean-?"

A bright blue blaze came out of his extended hand, immediately reaching the Count. A set of screams filled the room, forcing you to set your gaze on a scorching body, falling to the ground as he was quickly being consumed by the fire. You gasped and covered your face. A step back made you fall on the ground, the skirts of your dress making for a soft landing. You began to feel dizzy as that horrid smell reached you. Your former betrothed lay dead on the ground, carbonated rests of a human. You could just faint from what you were witnessing, trying your best to even your breathing.

"Wh- what the hell have you done?!" your uncle raised his voice, his tone angry yet terrified. "You wretched villain, you-!"

"Is that the only word you know, old man?" Dabi looked at him, unamused. "'Villain' this, 'villain' that?" he took a few steps towards him, hand in his pockets. "You really think that's an insult, don't you?"

"What gives you the right-?"

"I take it you were the mastermind behind this arrangement, then?"

"This is none of your business!"

That put a smile on Dabi's face. "Really? You trying to marry off Y/N is none of my business?" his smile widens. Your uncle kept walking backwards for a safe distance, to no avail.

There was nothing else you could do, besides watching both men. Your hands balled into fists as your gaze observed the stranger in detail. Something about him, about his eyes, resonated with you.

"Now that's just dumb." his hand moved to pull something out of his pocket. "You should know better, old man." Your eyes widened as you saw a silver ring being placed on his finger. "You can't give out what's someone else's."

You gasped, like a madwoman who was just given her sense back. It almost sounded like a scream. "Touya!" you exclaimed the only word on your mind.

He set his eyes on you, those beautiful blues, for a fleeting instant before removing them.

"Good to know at least one of you recognizes me..."

"That's impossible!" your uncle exclaimed, drawing all attention towards him. "Prince Touya is dead! He was-"

"Killed by his own flames?" he smiled again as he lit up his hand. "Did they look like these?"

Touya was delighted in seeing the panicked state your uncle was reduced to.

"Y'know, I just can't stand people like you... if you're going to act like you're the boss here, you should at least have something to back you up." he chuckled. "That won't be a problem anymore." Those were the last words your uncle got hear.

"No! Wait!" you cried for nothing, as Touya launched his flames to the man in front of him.

You closed your eyes shut and covered your ears, not wanting to witness another man burning to death. Shaking, you forced yourself to look up, placing your trembling hands on your lap. Cold blue eyes were set on you with a neutral expression. You gulped, not daring to speak, waiting on his next move. Your life was in his hands, and he knew it, but didn't seem to care.

"There." he finally spoke. "You're free." he walked past you, out of the great hall and into the hallways. "We can talk about how you can pay me back later."

Breathing had become nearly impossible. Your chest struggling to move evenly. You could bawl, you could vomit, you could faint... But Touya didn't look back, his steps echoing in the room. Time didn't seem to pass anymore. You didn't register your servants running towards you in a hurry, having waited for the villain to leave. You didn't see their worried faces around you, nor hear them calling, panicking as your consciousness abandoned you.

If this pops up while you’re scrolling, I wish you unconditional love and massive success.