ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ Satoru Gojo + Breeding !

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ Satoru Gojo + Breeding !

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.

୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ Satoru Gojo + Breeding !
ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ Satoru Gojo + Breeding !

you have thirty days to get married.

being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.

if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy. 

you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head. 

except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.

you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.

satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne. 

especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation. 

how ridiculous is that? 

and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for. 

it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes. 

alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.

all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).

suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too. 

if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever  quitting him.

you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it. 

the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.

perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?

why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ Satoru Gojo + Breeding !

your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you. 

“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on. 

before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see. 

except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party. 

you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose. 

“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.” 

he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin. 

satoru gojo belongs on his knees. 

kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you.  mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties. 

there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress. 

instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown. 

but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !

juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark. 

“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand. 

he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…” 

you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be. 

“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin. 

the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick. 

“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull. 

the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did. 

shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.

your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time. 

he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune. 

“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess. 

he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.

but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda. 

you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time. 

dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.

“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.” 

“f-fuck you.”

“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.

his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies. 

“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality  and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt. 

nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“

you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.” 

the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible. 

like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.” 

with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé. 

yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls. 

“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.” 

satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”

“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“

you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.

but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.” 

he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth. 

“sato—!”

“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”

that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.

shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!” 

you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.

“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru. 

thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth. 

he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.” 

you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!” 

“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”

the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth. 

your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either.  his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again. 

he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with. 

it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.

“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”

the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. 

the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.

lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place. 

your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.

“so about—“

“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic. 

for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint  on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring. 

he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—

“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”

“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”

“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”

throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.” 

“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.” 

you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold. 

the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo. 

but the entire time, you never look back. 

you don’t even look at gojo — and  that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd. 

the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ Satoru Gojo + Breeding !

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

More Posts from Zukowantshishonourback and Others

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. 

-(-)-


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you asking Dabi if he'd still love you if you were a rat and him responding that you are his little sewer rat already


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3 months ago

"Are we going to live in the next day Or Not "  🥺💔

"Are We Going To Live In The Next Day Or Not "  🥺💔
"Are We Going To Live In The Next Day Or Not "  🥺💔

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Yes this is the only thing that all of our family thought about it. Everyday we ask ourselves  if we going to live anymore or not .  Everyday in this cruel war we imagine one of us dead and feeling so sad about what will happen next day.

Now after the war all the building are destroyed here and there is no life around us please we need to evacuate 🙏🥺

Please help my kids and my family to evacuate from here. Gaza now is not for human being living we need you support to stand with 18 members of the family to travel to another place that could find some peace and start new life without wars.  We live in many wars and we are so tired. 

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10 months ago

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.


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A Circle of Salt | Fic Cover

A Circle Of Salt | Fic Cover

Minors and ageless blogs, DO NOT interact.

A Circle Of Salt | Fic Cover

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x F!Reader

Summary: With the end of the Great War and his father’s death, Prince Shouto must find his and his kingdom’s place in a rapidly changing world. As a result, the Todoroki Kingdom has finally opened its doors to its neighbors after centuries of isolation. You see this as an opportunity to not only advance in your career as a lowly government aid but to also take advantage of the tropical island as your new office space.

However, with the nobility working to maintain their status quo, there’s another reason why it may be difficult for you and Shouto to achieve your goals – the prince seems to have misunderstood what sort of partnership you seek with him.

A Circle Of Salt | Fic Cover

Read Chapter 1 on AO3!


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LOVELY TO BE HERE (WITH YOU) - midoriya izuku x f!reader 

with midoriya izuku, some things have always been easy. other things, however, have not.

genre: a strangers to lovers to exes to lovers au, pro hero au | angst, fluff

warnings: aged up characters (you and Izuku go through your 20s during this fic), a right person wrong time fic, hurt/comfort, happy ending, Izuku is taller than you, insecurity, talks of a boss/employee relationship (nothing happens during that time), making out, some smut (fem!recieving oral, mating press, slight dom!Izuku?? some dumbification… not actually sure I’m just putting it in the warning just in case, use of “pretty girl” and “good girl”), mentions of an outside natural disaster, arguments, you and Izuku gets a little Mean during the argument, Bakugou and Kirishima are your Helpful Friends and Good Bosses, some recreational alcohol consumption at a party

word count: 22k 

a/n: vaguely inspired by that tiktok trend with the “ceilings” by lizzy mcalpine audio… if you know you know. this is so behind the trend lol it ended up so much longer than i thought it would be so a lot of this hasn’t been thoroughly read through i am sorry lol 

.

You are twenty-two years old when you get the email - an offer letter that confirms your acceptance for an entry level office assistant position at Deku’s agency. And for someone like you who is in the final year of university and has been looking for a job to get a head start on your career, this is a very exciting opportunity. 

Keep reading


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HEY BESTIE CAN U MAKE A BLURB OR SOMETHING ABOUT FIVE HARGREEVES DURING THE FIRST EP OF S3 like yk the one where he saw delores after jayme spits on him and the reader who happens to date him saw it and like "wtf is he doing" and heard the name delores coming out of his mouth and the reader just goes silence after that scene BECAUSE THE READER IS THINKING ABOUT IT A LOT LIKE "is he actually still in love with a mannequin" and like very angsty afterwards but Five confronted her why she's being so quiet after their visit at the sparrows and the rest is up to u :] TYSM IDK ITS MY 1ST REQUEST ACTUALLY AND I CANTTT STOP THINKING ABT S3

ANGSTANGSTANGST

warnings: i think there's swearing, female reader (in my mind, but i can't remember using pronouns), angst. hardcore angst

tags: @mad-elia

PERFECTION

HEY BESTIE CAN U MAKE A BLURB OR SOMETHING ABOUT FIVE HARGREEVES DURING THE FIRST EP OF S3 Like Yk The

You were both running to get to Allison, his arm was around your waist, the other arm stretched toward the cornered woman. 

“Thanks,” she heaved once the three of you made it to the upstairs. 

“No problem,” Five said.

And then you saw her. She was a taller woman with electric black hair and green eyes. 

He told you guys to go, that he’d handle the woman. While Allison ran, you lingered, hiding behind the wall, watching.

He hit her over the head and she let out a groan of pain. Good. He could handle anything, your boyfriend. You had no doubt he’d be able to handle this easily; after all, he was probably the quickest thinker out of everyone. He could do anything and everything and that was only one reason you were irretrievably, desperately in love with the man.

And then came the spit, along with a hiss bubbling from the woman’s mouth. Jayme, you think her name was. Jayme. It sounded about right.

You wrinkled your nose, much like Five who began to berate her. “Agh! Hey, gross, alright?”

But before he could continue the usual lecture about sanitation, his face went glassy. Sweat built up on his forehead, and he began to walk around almost aimlessly.

“What the hell?” you heard him whisper. His eyes were directed toward the stairs, as were Jayme’s.

You ran out, looking at him, but didn’t touch him. Disturbing people when they’re in a trance could end dangerously, you heard. 

“What did you do to him?” you whispered, but she heard it and only smiled. It wasn’t one of those soft smiles; it was something similar to Five’s smile when he was irked. It was crooked, fake.

“I’m only showing him what he wants, kid.”

“Dolores?” Five whispered. You could feel your heart shatter.

The mannequin; that mannequin that sat with the both of you through the darkest nights of the apocalypse. She was there through everything; he always seemed to choose her over you. Even after you two were together. Dolores this; Dolores that; “Dolores would look good in this, wouldn’t she?”; “Dolores, you’re perfect”; “Dolores, I love you”.

You thought it was over. You thought he was over the stupid mannequin; you thought he loved you, only you. You thought that you two were meant for one another, the stupid soulmate shit everyone preached. But, you could see now, you clung on too tightly to the dreams a little girl would have.

You could see him break out into a smile, a genuine one. “Dolores.”

And then came the italian. 

“Really? Italian? Holy shit. Do you think I could get out of this without fighting you?” you asked Jayme. She raised an eyebrow at you before quickly turning to Five. “I’m way to tired for-”

He began to make out with thin air. 

Well, fuck.

“Okay, I’m just going to go,” you said, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

You only just turned your back when you heard Five tumble down the stairs.

~*~

“Just gonna sit. I’m just gonna sit for a minute,” Luther groaned.

Your bones were cracking. You could practically collapse right there, plopping down on the top of the bench, lying there, mimicking Klaus on the table next to yours.

“Oh, I’m cracking,” Klaus said, a grit to his voice. You could second that.

“You all good, Klaus?”

“Fine, (Y/N/N), you?”

“Could be better.”

Five climbed on top of the table, sitting on the edge and placing your head gently in his lap. He began to run his fingers through your hair, his rhythm was constant. His love wasn’t. He grazed a cut and you hissed.

“That’s one hell of a cut, Sweetheart,” he mused quietly. You used that as an excuse to get out of his lap.

“I’m fine.”

You could see him flinch- just barely, not enough to catch if you weren’t paying close attention- at the slight harshness in your tone.

Good.

~*~

“CHET! Mon frère! I’d like my usual suite, por favor!” Klaus announced excitedly to the man at the front desk. He was older, his wrinkles prominent, but his hair still maintaining a blondish color that grasped onto hints of youth. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” Chet deadpanned. 

“See? Told you. Discreet.”

“Great job, Klaus,” you giggled; in turn, he wrapped an arm around you and wrestled you into his side.

“Don’t sass me, kiddo. There is such thing as a time out corner, you know.”

The dog’s whimper interrupted the conversation very quickly. 

“Please stop scaring my dog,” Chet said.

“We need some rooms, please.”

“Super.” Chet pulled out a sign with the words only a nightmare could hold. “And how will we be paying today?”

Well shit.

“Fine,” Luther said. “Empty your pockets. Come on; something.”

You dug around in your pockets, finding a dagger and an extinguished cigarette. 

“(Y/N)! Come on, really?” Five scolded.

“As if you haven’t had a cigar before.”

“Condoms?” Luther asked.

“I think you can exchange those for cash,” Klaus replied, causing you to giggle.

“Come on, you two, put the knives away!”

Luther looked around. “Oh, all right,” he sighed, removing his watch. Klaus marveled at it as he handed it to Chet. Examining it, Chet grabbed three room keys.

“Well, let’s Brady Bunch this bitch.”

~*~

Only one room had one bed, so you and Five were assigned to that one.

“Let’s unpack. Settle in.”

“And what do we have to unpack?” you questioned, eyebrow cocked.

“Yes, Darling, isn’t that liberating?”

“Fair enough.”

“Alright then,” Five said. “Let’s fix you up.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

You didn’t want him touching you anymore. You didn’t want him lying to you anymore.

“You know what I mean.”

“Fine. I’ll get Allison in here-”

“Why Allison?” he asked, eyebrows furling. You could see the hurt flash in his eyes. Your heart broke and soared at the same time.

“You know why, Five. I saw everything.”

“Everything? I don’t get it.” He approached you, reaching out. You pulled back. He took another step forward. This kept going until your back hit the wall. He quickly brought his arm up, trapping you there. “I don’t understand. Why can’t I take- what did you see?”

You laughed, but stared at his arm. He was serious.

His other hand made its way to your hairline, brushing it softly. “I don’t understand.”

You recoiled, causing him to flinch once more.

“Sweetheart, we’re done. It’s all over; no more apocalypse, no more nothing. This is it! We can be happy- just… tell me what happened. I’ll fix it. I swear I will. I can’t afford to lose you after everything. I’ll fix everything, I promise, just please tell me what-”

“I saw you making out with thin air.”

“After what Jayme did? I thought I told you to run-”

“I hung back to make sure there wasn’t any funny business.” His arm loosened and you made your exit, walking toward the door. He didn’t jump toward you. He didn’t do anything. He just looked. “Turns out, there was some funny business. You’re still hung up on Dolores.”

“No,” he whispered. “No, (Y/N), I swear to God, I-”

“I heard everything, Five. So, we’re hanging out here for the next few days and then I’m out. I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

“(Y/N), I love you. Not Dolores, you.”

“I have come second to her after years, Five. Years I have waited for you to come around, and when you finally did, I was stupid enough to believe it was true. I was foolish enough to believe you could actually love me, that someone would actually love me. But, of course, I should’ve known: you can’t get over something so perfect that quickly.”

“You are perfection,” he whispered, tears in his eyes. “You-”

“No, Five. You can’t- I know what I saw. I know what you want, and that’s not me. Now, if you excuse me, Allison will only be available for so long. I’m going to need this cut fixed.”

You walked out the door with tears blurring your vision.


Tags

Coming Undone | Part One

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

Part Two

Summary: After a slip up from a drunk Hawks leads to your own confession, you spend the next day trying to avoid him fearing that he remembers what the two of you said to each other. However, just because you're trying to avoid Hawks and your building feelings, that doesn't mean your mind is going to let you off Scot-free when you close your eyes for a quick nap. Warnings: teasing, dirty talk, slight humiliation kink (sorta), dick riding A/N: Tired while writing and editing this piece. Apologies for any errors. Word Count: 1.5k

Like my fics? Buy me a Ko-fi! | AO3 | Masterlist | Google Docs Taglist

Coming Undone | Part One

“I want to watch you come undone, songbird.”

It was a drunken slip. You and Hawks had gone out for dinner after a successful mission; he deiced to order a few drinks, which he drank all of, and the next thing you knew, you were telling him not to fly drunk and helping him back to his place. He had his arms wrapped around you as you struggled to unlock his front door, his head resting in the crook of your neck. His mouth, then teeth grazed the shell of your ear before he whispered the words to you, and the keys nearly slipping from your fingers.

“Hawks,” was all you managed as a response.

He just hummed in response, his mouth leaving gentle kisses down your neck. You dropped your head partially to the left as Hawks found your sweet spot, and you felt your legs wobble. A muffled moan slipped out as he dragged his teeth over it before sucking harshly, surely leaving a mark that will make you opt for a scarf the next couple of days. His hands traveled up your arms and up to your shoulders. One hand slipped under the thin strap of your dress and toyed with it before letting it fall off your shoulder. You moaned as one of his hands grabbed a fistful of your hair and jerked it farther to the left, exposing more of your neck to him to absolutely ravish.

“Do you want me to stop?” His breath was hot against your neck.

“No,” you whined as he lifted his mouth from your neck.

“Do you want me?”

“Keigo,” you muttered, trying your best to put your focus on unlocking his front door. You needed to get him inside before you admitted too much to him, but you were struggling with lining the key up with the lock.

“Do you want me, (Y/N)?” Him saying your name was almost your undoing. Your knees threatened to buckle, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Hawks, who tightened his hold on you and chuckled quietly. “I want to hear you say it.”

Somehow you managed to get his front door open, and you stumbled inside. You kept your mouth clamped shut as you maneuvered Hawks to his bedroom. You managed to deposit him onto his bed with relative ease. You half expected him to drag you down with him when you dropped him onto the springy mattress, but he didn’t. As soon as you started to guide him, he had dropped his arms from around you and let himself fall back with a small bounce. When you tried to leave, he reached out and grabbed your wrist and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes. He sat up, resting on his elbow, head cocked to the side.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he muttered before pressing a light kiss to the inside of your wrist; you guessed he already forgot or at least hadn’t noticed that you hadn’t answered his question.

All you could do was nod in response, your legs barely carrying you out of his place and out to your car. Hopefully, you told yourself, he wouldn’t remember anything beyond getting dinner and waking up in his bed. That’d be significantly easier, wouldn’t it? Tomorrow, you’d go back to bickering and annoying one another like nothing ever happened. Yeah, that’s what was going to happen.

That’s not what happened.

You chickened out going into work. Working at Hawks’ agency meant you were going to run into the hero. And you were definitely not interested in seeing him after last night; it’d be way too awkward if he remembered even the tiniest detail. So, you stayed home. And everything was going fine until you decided to have a quick nap after lunch. You blame the nap. The nap was the catalyst.

“Just like that, songbird, good girl,” Hawks whispered in your ear.

A moan fell from your lips as you sunk down on his cock. You hand one hand on his shoulder and the other tangled in his curly blond locks as your eyes clamped shut. He stretched you as you took him to the hilt, and it felt so goddamn good. You let out a shaky breath, forehead dropping forward to rest against his.

His lips met yours as his hands grabbed your hips and guided you back up. He devoured you as he brought you back down, relishing in each and every sound that came from your lips as you rode him. You tugged on his hair and dug your nails into his shoulder as you moved up and down, anything coherent now incomprehensible, mind completely white.

“Look at you, fucking gorgeous.”

Hawks’ grip tightened as he lowered his head to your chest, alternating between licking, sucking, and grazing his teeth against your hardened nipples. He hummed happily when you arched your back, pushing your chest more towards his mouth, and you realized that Hawks wasn’t guiding your hips anymore; you were moving all on your own. Embarrassment flowed through you as Hawks watched you, and your cheeks burned, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. It felt so good; he felt so goddamn good.

“Don’t stop until you’ve cum, songbird, not for a fucking second.”

Curses fell from your lips as Hawks’ hips snapped up to meet yours, and he chuckled just as easily as if he wasn’t the one you were riding. He leaned back on an elbow, keeping one hand on your hips, as he railed into you. Your eyes trailed down his bare chest, over his wings, on the headboard of your bed, anywhere but the smug expression he had plastered on his face. It was like he was enjoying this solely because of how much you were enjoying it. Enjoying him. The familiar feeling that was building between your legs was getting ready to burst, and you grit your teeth. For one, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of climaxing from this. And, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you weren’t ready for the dream to end. You wanted more. You wanted so much more. So you tensed what felt like every muscle in your body in an attempt to delay your climax.

“Tsk, songbird, I can tell that you’re close. Trying to hold off your orgasm like that, bad girl.”

Hawks’ name ripped from your throat as he dropped the hand that’d been on your hips down to your clit. All hope was lost from there, and your entire body tensed as your orgasm tore through you. Your body shook as you fell forward, nails pressing harsh crescent moons into Hawks’ shoulder. Your eyes closed as you saw stars, and you bit your lip to hold back the whimpers as Hawks kept thrusting into you. His hips stuttered for a moment before he let out a quiet curse followed by your name. He hooked an arm around your waist and held you close as he came, your foreheads pressed together once more.

“That’s my good songbird, so fucking beautiful coming undone like that.”

His lips pressed against yours with a tender kiss.

“But I’m not done with you yet.”

You jerked awake as Hawks bucked his hips against you, skin grazing your over-sensitive bundle of nerves in a painful jolt of pleasure. You sat up and ran your hands over your face, chest rising and falling quickly, warmth pooling between your legs that made your cheeks burn. You were hopeless. That wasn’t your first dirty dream about Hawks, but that was your dirtiest and the most vivid. Usually, you dreamt of light touches, forbidden kisses, hands in places they shouldn’t be, but never full-on vivid sex like that. There was no way in hell you could face Hawks after that dream if he remembered what happened last night. You’d combust on the spot.

You glanced at your phone and contemplated calling out for the next three days. You could afford that. It’d be selfish, but facing him now felt impossible. Especially with the mess that was between your legs and the dream fresh on your mind. You ran your hands over your face once more and let out a loud groan which was then followed by a slightly muffled “ fuck .” Yeah, completely and utterly hopeless. But first things first: you needed to clean yourself up, and then you’d figure out what to do about work. At least you could procrastinate that for a few more hours. You could always call out tomorrow morning again.

“Yeah.” You nodded to yourself as you rose to your feet. “I’ll think about it tonight.”

You let out a quiet sigh as you stepped away from your couch, picking up and folding the blanket you’d been using. It’d be fine. You’d figure it all out later. It’d be completely fine.

You made it two steps towards your bathroom when a loud knock sounded at your door, and your heart stopped. You glanced at the bathroom before turning back at the door. You groaned before choosing the latter, your manners kicking in. Manners that you desperately wished didn’t exist when you opened the large wooden door and found that familiar shit-eating grin, curly blond hair, and gold eyes.

“Hey, songbird.”

Taglist: @pinktrouble


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unconventional | masterlist

image

pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Reader

summary: HeroExpo is incredible, and that’s not even counting the really cute hero fanboy you just met. Well, you think he might be cute under that Deku cosplay. It’s hard to tell because it’s really, really good. Like, too good.

length: 21,000 words | 6 chapters

tags: romance, pro hero au, misunderstandings, conventions/fandom culture

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

chapter links:

one

two

three

four

five

six

cross posted on ao3: here

EDIT: Now with art by the deeply talented absolutely lovely @volatilematters​


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🪼🧜‍♂️ life’s a beach, but let’s mer-make the best of it 🧜‍♂️🪼

[Mer!Dabi/Reader] [E]

Summary: There’s a new aquarium in town, and you (a graduating zoology major) are trying to land a summer internship there to gain some hands-on experience as you apply for jobs and research positions alike. Excited by the possibility, you decide to visit Universal Aquarium after your last final, taking a leisurely walk around to look at the types of fish you may get to work with, only to find that one of them is probably far, far beyond your paygrade…

… or where you are a degree-holding fish nerd who unknowingly begins to work at an aquarium that wasn’t originally created to be an aquarium, and you catch the interest of its sadistic, biggest-kept secret.

✨CHAPTER 3 UP NOW✨

featuring this lovely new artwork:

🪼🧜‍♂️ Life’s A Beach, But Let’s Mer-make The Best Of It 🧜‍♂️🪼

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