#feel free to use as a header! (mentioning me is not necessary- but it would surely make my day!)

[actually-correct-drawfee]

Actually correct Drawfee quotes because these morons (affectionate) are a major staple in my life. This is the post so you can search for certain speakers, if you want. Godspeed.

@drawfee  

Also tagging @dilfosaur , @julialepetit , and @nyaffe cuz I would DIE FOR THEM. Karina my celebrity squish UwU /hj

Links, info about submissions, tagging, tags to block, surveys, etc below!

The Fun Things

Blog Specific Tags

Survey

Survey Pt2: Yearbook Edition

Our blog's greatest achievement (counting on y’all to tell me if this ever happens again)

My personal chitchat blog

Tone indicators I use on this blog

If you like what I'm doing, you can shoot me a buck or two!

Requests and Submissions

Please make sure to include the episode name (or just 'stream' if it was in a stream)

Timestamps or who was drawing at the time are HELPFUL, but not NECESSARY

I will automatically tag you, so if you DON'T want that, please either say so in the ask, or you can use '🚫' or '[no]' (in brackets) if you hit the character limit

Go nuts! Thanks :)

Also: tag me in your Drawfee fanart! I love showing folks art off and talking about it!

Formatting!

As long as Tumblr doesn't mess with anything, formatting should be as follows:

Quote in large text (separated with quotation marks if there's multiple speakers), episode name/stream in small text, and speakers in order in the tags.

Tags for triggers:

I typically tag like this:

[thing] tw, [thing] cw, // [thing], [thing] ment

I'll put a list of things I tag below! Please note there might be touchy topics! If you don't see it on the list, shoot me a message or an ask! Currently I'm tagging:

[religion, bug, spider, blood, god, gun, weapon, vomit]

I'm also tagging mildly NSFW things (AKA sex mentions and stuff) as

•drawfee gets spicy•

to make sure to keep it avoidable while also not getting nuked by Tumblr :)

Also! Header image is Karina's from the "Drawing in Shades of Red" video, the Drawfee mug logo for the PFP and the icon in the dividers doesn't belong to me (though I did make the dividers), and these quotes can all be found on the Drawfee YouTube channel! Feel free to shoot me an ask or message if you see any errors (typos, episode mistakes, speaker mistakes, etc), it's much appreciated!

#•karina• #•jacob• #•nathan• #•julia• #karina drawfee #jacob drawfee #nathan drawfee #julia drawfee #drawfee #drawfee ooc #•guest• #•willie• #•tristan• #•caldwell• #•david• #•classic• #•spencer•

[tuliptic]

#tuliptic #🌷 #let's get this started!

[cavsis]

Check in tag

@bakersimmer @bunnithechubs Thanks for tagging me! I love your sims and edits 💞

Why did you choose your URL? Is a username that came up randomly when I was creating my instagram and I liked it👀

How long have you been on Tumblr? I've had my tumblr since 2017 but I didn't start using it until early 2021.

Do you have a queue tag? Yes, I have a queue, but I don't think it's necessary to create a tag for that.

Why did you start your blog in the first place? I started posting posts of my sims because I wanted to meet people from the simblr community and partly it was also because of the quarantine. I wanted to experiment doing something new.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp? It's a picture of Shin-chan that I saw on twitter and I loved it.

Why did you choose your header It's my OC Nix. I didn't choose that picture for a particular reason, I just didn't want to not have a header.

What's your post with the most notes? The "Pose Pack" posts (on the simblr community) and my old JJBA shitpost.

How many mutuals do you have? I would say that I have less than ten mutuals with which I have interaction.

How many followers do you have? 510

How many people do you follow? 440

Have you ever made a shitpost? I did it in a couple of years ago (I was part of the JJBA fandom).

How often do you use tumblr every day? I usually use it every day to see the posts of my mutuals, and sometimes to see mods and cc

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won No, I don't like to discuss on the internet

How do you feel about 'you need to reblog this' posts? I try to ignore these posts

Do you like tag games? Yes! (me encanta aaaa💞💞)

Do you like ask memes? Yes!

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? Some of my mutuals come to my mind who are famous (according to what I consider being "famous" on tumblr). I'm not going to tag them because I don't want to bother them (?

But I do want to mention that I love everyone's posts in general🥰

Do you have a crush on a mutual? I don't think so

I'm tagging @alicesimblr @sulanibean @void-imp @zosa95 @sophi-x-sims @adzrielfaie @tulipsimss (feel free to ignore)

#ask #ask game

[thekenobee]

The brightest stars have hearts of kyber

#just me and my eternal love for obi wan Kenobi passing through your dash🧡 #obi wan kenobi #sw #edits #obiwankenobiedit #my edit #aesthetic #stellar #stars #graphic #graphics #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #ewan McGregor #obi wan #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #feel free to use as a header! (mentioning me is not necessary- but it would surely make my day!) #header #swedit #tcwedit #revenge of the sith #sw rots #art

[petermorwood]

Home-made bread again, and after 5 months of regular use I can confirm that those Pullman loaf tins - 450 g / 1 lb size, one steel, one aluminium, excellent non-stick on both - were a first-class buy. We don’t use the lids very often, but it’s good to have them for the times we DO want to use them.

In that 5 months, and as part of my ongoing mini-crusade to prove that making bread is far, far easier than a lot of people think (or would have other people believe) I’ve pared down @dduane​‘s recipe to something even simpler, and it still works just fine.

Here’s her original recipe, and here’s my everyday - well, every few days - version which has proven totally reliable:

INGREDIENTS:

500 g flour                                          (US -  18oz / 3 ½ cups)

250 ml warm water                             (US 8 ½ fl oz / 1 cup)

7 g yeast                                             (US ¼ oz / 2 ½ tsp)

7 g salt                                                (US ¼ oz / 1 tsp)

30 ml vegetable / olive oil                   (US 1½ fl oz / 2 Tbsp)

Metric measurements are correct, US measurements are approximated from conversion tables, but any differences are so small they’re unlikely to cause problems.

The loaves in the header photo were step 1 done twice within 4 minutes. A full 1000g flour / 500 ml water double-up puts too much strain on our Magimix / Cuisinart, it overheats and trips out, but it handles the standard 500 / 250 recipe fast enough that doubling isn’t necessary.

The two batches of dough can go into the same rising container. When risen separate the batches (check weights if feeling persnickety) and proceed from Step 3 below.

This is another double baking, confirming that the above procedure works. Sometimes the bread is more picture-perfect than others; it’s always good bread.

Why bake two loaves? Because they’re small enough that they get eaten quickly, and with two tins it’s more economical to run the oven just once.

METHOD for one loaf:

Mix the ingredients together and knead into a smooth non-sticky dough with a food processor (2 mins) stand mixer (12 mins) or by hand (+15 mins).

Place the dough in a bowl and cover with clingfilm, Saran wrap, floured cloth or the bowl’s lid. (This is my preference, we have small and large Pyrex roasters that are just right for one loaf or two.) Leave the dough to rise until doubled in size. It happens faster in a warm, draft-free place, and running the oven at 70°C (160°F) for a few minutes then turning it off again provides just such a place. (We have a combi microwave with a Dough Rise setting that cuts rising time in more than half.)

Turn the risen dough out onto a worktop and punch it down until almost original size again, then reform it into a symmetrical shape.

Place the shaped dough in a loaf tin, cover as before (*) and let it rise again until nearly loaf-size (it’ll finish while the oven heats). If using your warmed oven for rising, keep the loaf tin covered when you take it out before preheating the oven to 180°C (356°F). Increase this to 200°C (392°F) if you want a darker crust.

Once the oven is preheated uncover the loaf, return it to the oven and bake for 30-40 mins depending on your desired colour.

Take out the loaf, transfer it from tin to rack and let it cool.

Done.

(*) If using a Pullman tin with its lid on, turn on the oven to preheat as soon as you (a) find the lid won’t slide easily or (b) you see dough starting to come out between tin and lid. Scrape this off before baking, and trim the next extrusion - heat-expansion ensures there’ll be another - afterwards. Baking time whether lid on or off remains the same.

Yet another pair baked simultaneously, with and without lids. You can see the slightly ragged edge where extruded overflow was removed from the lidded one after baking.

The crumb on the lidded loaf is a bit firmer, probably (IMO) as a result of compression. Two slices of this are - so DD tells me - just the thing, size and all, for a classic US grilled cheese sandwich.

That Pyrex bowl with lid in the background is one of the two I mentioned which work so well for first raising, even when overenthusiastic yeast does a Quatermass Xperiment and starts shoving the lid off...

*****

IMO the commercial bakeries which produce squidgebread don’t want people to know how easy this is. Loaves made from this recipe tend to go stale, if they last long enough, while squidgebread of the same age goes mouldy.

You can make toast or breadcrumbs (or trenchers, oh yes!) with stale bread, but mouldy bread is only good for garbage or compost or some sort of eccentric bandage - if you’re absolutely sure the mould is penicillium. 

(Do this in fiction rather than real life, OK?)

Combined with some tomatoes, herbs, oil and cheese, stale bread (or even fail bread like one of mine which refused to rise Because Of Reasons) can be the bulk ingredient in a jolly good soup.

For cold weather, pepper or chilli and a dab of sour cream makes a nice extra touch to this, while in summer it’s very good chilled like gazpacho and given a swirl of fresh lemon juice and the most flavoursome extra-virgin olive oil you can find.

Toasted sesame oil is tasty as well. Or lemon / chilli / basil / whatever infused oil.

Play. Experiment. Enjoy.

#food and drink #kitchen adventures #recipes #breadmaking #making bread is easy

[the---hermit]

My Writing Journal

I've been using a writing journal for more or less two years now. When I first decided to set one up I looked for inspiration online, but I did not find much. Then the other day I mentioned mine in a post and @contre-qui gave me the idea for this post (so thank you!!).

I will start off by saying I still have not found the perfect form for my writing journal, so sometimes I try different stuff out, and change things up a bit. and I am always looking for new inspirations, so if you keep one let me know!

My first writing journal had not much structure, which in some ways was acutally helpful, because it made me realize very quickly what are the few I find necessary for this kind of journal. Plus not having a super strict structure and beeing more free with it is not bad at all. This first journal started off more as a place to keep all the ideas that I had for short stories (the main thing I write). I used to have a bunch of ideas stored in different notes on my phone, on random post-its I would lose, or I tried to remember them, and inevitably forgot them. So my main goal with setting a writing journal was to put on paper all my ideas. I still refer to my first writing journal when I don't have inspiration, as the majority of my ideas are on there. I simply have these pages with a huge numbered list with the main idea for the story. I make sure to number them so I can refer to them clearly when I decide to work more on them in other pages. This first writing journal quickly turned into the place where I wrote the first drafts of stories I wanted to write. I don't do it all of the time, but I mostly like to write my first ever draft of the story on paper. I like it better for two reasons: I feel like my writing flows better when writing with pen and paper, and I find it more comfortable to have the main editing of the story. For this last reason I like to write not on the whole page, but to leave about a fourth of the space on one side so I can make annotations, correct paragraphs, and everything I need to do while working after the very first draft is written.

I still do it the same way to this day, and after having written a few stories directly in digital form, I can confirm the best way for me to work on this kind of stuff is to start off in my journal. This is pretty much my whole first writing journal, lists of ideas and first developments of stories.

When the journal was at its end I figured I absolutely needed two things to start off with my second writing journal (the one I am currently using). The first is an index.

I despise indexes in journals, I do not use one in neither my personal journal nor my bullet journal. But it's been fundamental to have one in this newer writing journal, and I will continue using one for the next. Since I don't have a super set structure, it's incredibly useful to keep track of where things are, and it also works as a quick way to see what I have worked on and what not. The second thing I figured I really needed was a recap page. I have one at the very beginning of the journal, I did another at the beginning of the year and I will probably do another one in the middle of the year, I think. It's a very simple page in which I annotate everything that is still a work in progress, that still needs to be edited, or copied digitally on my laptop. This is fundamental not to leave to much as a work in progress, or simply not to forget about stories that haven't found a proper ending yet. In my beginning of the year recap spread I also had a space to set my yearly goal of writing a new short story each month, so that it became a general spread to have a look at my whole writing situation.

Since I have this yearly goal of writing one short story each month of the year I have started doing monthly spreads.

Everything is super minimal in this journal, as I mentioned, so it mostly consists of a header with the month, followed by a to do list. In this list I write down what I'd like to do in the month, so for example write my monthly story, edit an old one or copy it in digital form, work on a brain dump for ideas concerning those stories which never found their proper ending, and so on. After that there's usually a space for general notes, and then a big brain dump of ideas for the story I'd like to work on during the month. These brain dumps do not have a lot of structure either. I usually start by writing the very idea that is inspiring me, it could be an image, a very loose base of the plot, but also a character, a quote, litteraly anything. And I start working from there. I write down all the options and ideas that come to me, and in the end I try to have a very loose structure of the plot, plus some very specific details I might want to include.

To conclude I thought I might add a list of spread ideas I use:

List writing ideas/prompts

A random writing page to store all the very specific writing that comes to mind but you haven't found the right place for yet. I often use it for specific sentences and dialogues that come to mind, or specific images.

Brain dumps to create the structure of a story

Recap pages

Yearly/ monthly goals spreads

Brian dump with all the informations for bigger projects. For example I have a series of short stories (that coul potentially turn into a novel, I haven't decided yet) and I store all the ideas in one specific place.

Index

Writing tips page. This could include intormation you know might be helpful for more than one story, list of words that could be helpful to make your writing better, amd so on

This should be more or less a good image of what my writing journal looks like, and how I use it. I hope it was helpful or even just a little bit inspiring for anyone reading. If in the future I'll implement new things I will make sure to make an update post! I am super curious to know whether you have a writing journal, and in that case how it is structured and how you use it!

#yet again a super long post #i can't help myself #studyblr #studyinspo #bookblr #booklr #writeblr #writelr #writing #writing journal #journal #journaling #journals #writing journal ideas #writing journal structure #notebook #mine #og post #my writing journal #the---hermit

[theangelsblameu]

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ヾ๑ˊᵕˋ๑◞♡

♡ just be a good person lmao. Be respectful when you request. Use please and thank you with me lmao !!

♡ speaking of requests, I’m allowed to deny any of them <3 no you may not ask for a reason <33

♡ credit is very much necessary if you use my work!!

♡ don’t edit or repost anything I make. It’s actually really unsexy <3

♡ if my requests are open, you can send something in. If they aren’t, you can’t. Please check before you do. It should always be up at the top of this post. If not, please forgive me for this travesty, and just send me a quick ask letting me know.

♡ please refrain from multiple requests in one ask. You can always send in multiple of my inbox is open.

♡ please try and be specific when you’re requesting. If I don’t have dimensions or aesthetics I’ll probably do a lot more of my own thing ♡

♡ be patient. This is something I’ve decided to do for fun. It’s not something that I’m taking too seriously. I’m a student who has their own life, and I would appreciate if that was respected

♡ don’t repost my edits! I doubt this is going to happen, but just incase. I know this won’t do anything if you’re actually somebody who wants to repost my edits but hey, maybe you’ll have a change of heart when you see this

♡ I’m very picky with requests, and I’m very fluid. One day I might edit everything I get with vigour, and the next I might have absolutely not motivation. Please don’t pressure me ♡

【☆】 ★【☆】 ★【☆】

SOURCES ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡

☾ genshin impact, identity v, sonic the hedgehog, persona, sanrio, cookie run , vocaloid, vtubers, project sekai, twisted wonderland, Tokyo Mew Mew

☾ byf :: l do outside sources, but they are very selective and will probably be done once I’m finished with other requests. Please let me know the source of the character you’re requesting from. If I deem it problematic I won’t accept your request

SELECTIVE SOURCES ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.~♡︎

☾ danganronpa. That’s it. Just dgr.

【☆】 ★【☆】 ★【☆】

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 (ง'̀-'́)ง ♡ “accept my love !!!”

☆ content I will edit: icons, wallpapers, headers (both tumblr and twitter), layouts, stimboards & moodboards + aesthetics + fashion boards, and character urls

【☆】 ★【☆】 ★【☆】

𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

ଘ most sumeru (gi) characters (feel free to ask for exceptions!!), unreleased characters form any media, + I don’t really have a blacklist?? I’ll just deny your request if I don’t want to do it lmao

ଘ oh! traumacore. That’s it really.

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ଘ Kaedehara Kazuha, Albedo, Yun Jin, Raiden Shogun, Kokomi, Xiao, The Travellers, Yantao (gi), Saki Tenma, Ena Shinonome, Nene Kusanagi, leo/need (pjsk), Sea Fairy Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie, Latte Cookie, Cotton Cookie, Cream Unicorn cookie, Dragon cookies, redpastry (cr), Malleus Draconia (tw), Inugami Korone (vtuber), pastel colours + aesthetics, messy aesthetics, high contrast

𝐧𝐨 𝐈𝐑𝐋/𝐤𝐢𝐧/𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 on my posts!!

ଘ Ichika Hoshino (pjsk), Qiqi (gi), Ichigo Momomiya (tmm), Chiaki Nanami (dgr), Sumire Yoshizawa (persona), Maria Robotnik (sth)

【☆】 ★【☆】 ★【☆】

And there you have it! I’ve already mentioned above but this blog is merely for fun!! I take not taking editing seriously very seriously. I just realized that I made it all the way to end without even introducing myself.

My name is mod calliope, but you can call me qiqi, mys, or 444 alike. I use they/them, sie/hir and straw/berry pronouns. It would be real cool if you reblogged, that would be cute <33 either way, I’m glad you made it this far ! Feel free to throw a request my way

As a treat for myself, I’m going to request a few promos. Just- just a lil. Please ignore me if you would like, no hard feelings I promy :)

@electro-kins @mochiibite @razzthetic @bunkimi @ma1mel0dy @travelerkins @froggykinz @ambermaze @dicefloweredits @lou-edits @fairytalefragments @twisted-lies @lilhomeroom-edits @editcore @fairyhimiko @idolcons @shu-edits @ultimate-yakuza-editing

#pinned post #info post #editing blog #adress the letters to the holes in my butterfly wings 🦋 #let’s do our best ! ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ♡ #po pi po !!! ミ★

[gallickingun]

stardust in our bones {constellations on our skin} || i.m.

SUMMARY: Izuku Midoriya is a mausoleum of pain, his masterpieces hung in the form of scars and freckled skin. Sometimes he is overwhelmed by the very public display of his failures, unable to be dismissed even from far away. But you are always there to remind him that even if he is a little damaged, he will always be beautiful in your eyes. And maybe he can come to learn that his scars are but reminders that even if you break, you are not broken. 

This is essentially a few different scenes/scenarios all rolled into one fic about Izuku’s freckles and scars. I hope you love it!

PAIRING: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: mentions of blood, language, smut, dom/sub scenes, scars, mild violence mention, breeding kink, daddy kink, etc. WORD COUNT: 28.4k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is in the replies of this post! message me to be added/removed!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the labor of love that i have produced for my other half @freckledoriya ♡ i hope that this meets your expectations, as it is probably one of the only midoriya fics i will ever write lol. katsuki baby i am so sorry also big shoutout to @k-atsukidayo for making this beautiful header image for me and always reminding me that i’m not as garbage as i think i am ♡

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

Some call him disfigured or discolored.

They focus much too heavily on the outer turmoil taking its toll on his skin instead of the implications of what is happening within his body – the struggle in seeing himself this way and coming to terms with all that he has lost, marked on his body forever in the form of scars.

Marred flesh, crooked knuckles, gnarled bones.

He relives his trauma every time he looks in a mirror, another cut turned to pinkened scar, another use of his quirk marking his body permanently with a plethora of the color red. He wonders for a moment if he will ever feel whole again, or if he will always see himself as this patchwork thing that the universe toys with by ripping apart just to sew it back together again.

Izuku Midoriya is a mausoleum of pain.

And yet, despite all his physical fallacies, you still find him beautiful.

You watched on in horror as his body took on the tolls of being a hero throughout his time at Yuuei. You were but a young, quirkless teenager, begging for a hero who reminded you of what hope used to taste like. Now, after All Might’s demise, your tongue turns sour and anything that might have resembled hope burns to ash in your mouth.

Then Izuku Midoriya became a Pro Hero at the very agency you’ve been working at and you felt that familiar warmth of hope starting to take root in your chest, driving out that darkness that settled once the world lost All Might.

Deku is kind, much kinder than the average man. Or hero, for that matter.

He stops by your desk at least once a week, with either coffee or something sweet, in addition to his paperwork. He’ll chat with you, leaning over your counter with those sparkling emerald eyes, and you start to realize you can get lost in him. He is a gentle reprieve from your otherwise mundane day.

And in the beginning, you saw sun-kissed skin littered with a dark sprinkling of freckles, like little constellations burned into him by the sun. His cheeks are like the expanse of the night sky and you wonder to yourself when he leans in close if you might could find some stars you recognize.

As you grow closer, minutes turned into hours turned into lunch outings, you realize that you truly misjudged how deep his scars run.

They are not just on the surface, but rather cutting deep into his soul until he is marked at the very essence, clouded eyes ever present when he recounts a tale that brought forth yet another scar. You want to reach out and brush his cheeks, but you must restrain yourself because he is a Pro Hero and you are but an office manager, quirkless and insignificant to him.

You busy yourself with memorizing the patterns on his face and neck. You allow your mind to wander from time to time, trailing your gaze down to his exposed collarbones or torso, depending on how rough a mission might leave his suit. When it’s torn at the thighs, you can’t help but to see the smattering of pale freckles against his otherwise tanned skin.

Izuku is kind, you remind yourself as he approaches you with paperwork tucked into his side. There is no other explanation for his long, drawn out talks at your desk, or the flowers currently adorning your countertop.

“Hey, sorry,” he unfurls the bundled package of papers and lays them flat on your desk, “this week has been insane, lots’a villains on the loose. Which I guess just means more paperwork for everyone, huh?”

You chuckle at him, thumbing through the first few sheets to make sure he’s got it all in order. There really is no doubt in your mind that it’s all laid out exactly how it should, that’s just how Deku is, but you want him stationary at your desk for a little while longer, so you check it anyway.

“And more bruises for you heroes,” you smile, tilting your head upward so you can catch the glint in his eyes. “How are you today?”

Midoriya begins to rattle off a long string of muttered words while you check the paperwork. You don’t mind that you can’t necessarily understand everything he’s saying, just to hear the sound of his voice is enough to satiate you for the rest of the day. You smile and nod when you think you should, the smell of the flowers on your desk more intoxicating now that he’s here.

“-I, well, you see, I guess that since I saved their shop, they said I could have unlimited meals, and I, uh, I was wondering if you’d like to go?”

You bite your lip, reigning yourself in because of course he just wants to go out for lunch. There’s nothing more to it. You have been to lunch with him several times, extended breaks thanks to both his hero status and your extra hours you work here and there.

“Sure,” you answer, “we can go over the new manual, I have a few-”

“No.”

You cock your head, brow furrowing, “B-But -I”

Deku shakes his head, green curls bobbing against his forehead, his undercut even more obvious now, “N-No, I mean, I want to go, but like, I want you to go with me.”

“I would be-”

“Without the paperwork.”

“Oh.”

The two of you share a look for longer than necessary and now the flowers’ perfume grows stronger, almost sickeningly sweet as your stomach flips. You rack your brain for the words to say, but each syllable dies on your tongue, sparking against a taste bud. You want to pinch yourself to ground your mind into this version of reality where Deku wants to go on a date with you is the current situation, but you can’t move, frozen in place by his expectant stare.

It must take you too long to respond because Izuku launches into another muttering rant, apologizing profusely as he blushes from head to toe. Your lips tug into a smile at the sight of his freckles against his reddened skin, and that little break from your psychotic prison allows you to reach forward and grasp him by the hand.

Deku’s jaw snaps shut, eyes widened as he looks down at you, gaze piercing through you as if he had slung a spear through your soul. He’s got a hold on you, he has since the day you first met, but now you know that he’s had you hook, line, and sinker and there was no way you could ever come up for air.

Not that you’d want to.

“I’d love to,” you tell him, voice soft.

His smile matches your own and he squeezes your fingers, the scars on his hands rigid against his otherwise smooth skin, “It’s a date.”

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

As time passed, the bruised ribs and shattered bones multiple. The Pro Hero, Deku, is well-known for his gnarled hand, knuckles swollen, and scars carved into his body like veins in a slab of marble. He finds you after each mission, wrapped in gauze and taped back together, and you are the one left to mend the untouchable pieces of him once the surgeons have done all that they can for the surface wounds.

“You should be more careful,” you warn him, hands reaching for his face to palm over his cheeks in worry.

Midoriya laughs, but it is cut short by a wince as he grabs for his rib cage. You lurch forward to steady his frame, but it is of no use, his palm already outstretched to keep you at bay. The frown on your face only deepens at his motions, your brow furrowing together to wrinkle the skin of your forehead.

“I’m fine,” he reassures you once he can stand up right to his full height again, “thank you, for coming and picking me up.”

The pads of your hands find his face again, thumbs pressed into his cheeks, fingerprints grazing over the speckled skin. It’s as if you’re counting them to make sure that none of them have been wiped away from the last time you saw him; like you could keep track of them like inventory if you tried hard enough. The furrow in your brow tells him that he hasn’t done a good enough job at reassuring you, so he steps closer, a knee between your thighs, “I promise I’m okay. They patched me up! All better now.”

All better now.

The words seem shallow, like they can’t possibly touch all of the broken pieces between the two of you. Every time he bares his soul on the battlefield, he comes away changed, a different person than you last saw. He won’t show the world, but at least he will show you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is cutting, patience wearing thin, jaw quivering under the sheer force of the bite of your teeth, “And what about the next time, when they can’t fix you?”

Deku does not have an answer for you then, the question weighing between the two of you like the world caught between your shoulders. At least the answer he can think up is not one that he wants you to hear, let alone one you might take in stride.

Instead of trying to babble on about the efficiencies of agency surgeons and statistics and whatnot, he takes you by the wrists, circling his fingers around your pounding pulse. A gentle laugh bubbles in his chest and it makes you forget about the pain he has to be in for but a mere moment as he looks you in the eyes.

“I’m a hero,” Izuku answers, voice grating against his throat as his eyes bore into you like he’s telling you some enormous secret you must keep to yourself, “and the hero always wins. No matter what.”

As much as your bleeding, apologetic heart wants to believe him, to lap up every word that he’s spewing to you like syrup, your mind can’t quite agree. You’ve spent too many late nights lying awake, wondering when you’ll get the call that he has fallen prey to a villain’s decaying touch, or when he will have been captured and tortured to the brink of insanity, a shell of the man he used to be all that’s left when they find him. Every horror story has played out on the back of your eyelids when you fall asleep, and yet you know there will never be anything you can do to put him back in the little box you first found him in, to protect him and keep him safe.

You push all of those thoughts away, knowing that they will only dampen your spirit for now, and you’d much rather focus on his darling freckled face while you take your afternoon walk. He insists, despite his injuries, that he won’t miss an afternoon walk with you. And it appears that he’s healing even as more time passes, the lingering effects of Recovery Girl’s quirk in combination with quirk-laced drugs mending his body after he’s left the operating room.

Taking in the sight before you – this beautiful, Adonis-like man, with golden cheeks and an innocent sheen in his glittering green irises – you’re overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him, so you charge forward and do just that. Your hands find his neck, searching for the hairline lightning strike scars that litter his body from past injuries and fights.

Unbeknownst to him, you keep your eyes open so you can watch as his translucent lids flutter, orbs moving beneath the skin as he’s unsure of what part of you in his imagination to settle on. This way you’re able to see as the apples of his cheeks slowly start to burn deeper shades of red to match his ears and neck.

As you pull away, falling back onto your heels, you drink him in as the light glimmers down on his skin, making him look almost golden in the afternoon sunshine. There is a string connected to your heart that tugs whenever you see the man standing before you, and now is no exception.

“C’mon,” you slot your knuckles between his, tenderly brushing your thumb over the large expanse of scar tissue on the back of his palm, “let’s go.”

Izuku pulls you closer and it’s like another piece of him has fallen into place, your body slotting just right against his side, like you were made for each other. One to match the other, a balance to end all imbalances.

A complete set.

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The knock on your door makes you jump, shuddering beneath your fleece blanket.

You rub your eyes and stand to your feet, leaving the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It’s late, so you imagine it’s most likely just a package delivery.

You’re beyond surprised to see a bleeding Izuku Midoriya slumped forward, using his forearm to hold himself steady in your doorway. You gasp, your blanket dropping away from your shoulders to pool at your feet, launching yourself forward to catch him before he can topple to the ground.

“Izuku,” you gasp, tucking yourself beneath him so he can use you for support.

He laughs, but it turns into a wheezing string of coughs. You help him hobble through the threshold towards the kitchen, sitting him down close to the sink so you can clean him up. Tilting his head back, you look into his eyes and pray that they dilate. When his pupils shrink, you let loose a breath held captive in your lungs.

It’s hard not to think about the reality that this will add another scar to his tally. His whole body seems like a counter, really, with strikes and slashes marring his skin, turning it pink and keeping track of every battle.

Midoriya reaches up to cradle your face in his palm, fingertips brushing over the smooth skin of your cheeks, directly contrasted with his own rough complexion, “I needed to see you.”

“No,” you shake your head and squat down in front of him, tears stinging the backs of your eyes as you try to take in every part of him that’s bleeding, “you need to see a doctor!”

Before you can protest him any further, Izuku leans forward to crush your mouth beneath his own. He whimpers in pain as he kisses you, but it doesn’t stop him. In fact, it almost stirs him forward, spurring him to cup your face with his hands as tears track down to cut through the crimson lines on his cheeks.

Izuku Midoriya is nothing short of an enigma. Here he is, bruised and bleeding, but he wrought his way to find you despite all of the pain. You wish you could burden some of it on his behalf, taking up the mantle of his own personal Atlas, meant to shoulder the weight of his existence so he can catch a quick breath.

His forehead touches yours as he pulls away, a sobbing gasp parting his mouth, “I’ll be fine. I just need you.”

You brush his hair away from his eyes, forcing him to look at you with the tender turn of your wrist. His right eye is bruised and swelling itself shut, blood caked from his brow to his jaw, pouring steadily from the wound he’s got split open on his head.

The only thought running through your mind, creating a path of worn ground against your cerebrum, is that this will be but another one to add to the collection; another piece of art to hang in his mausoleum. Judging by the amount of blood caked in his hair and brow, and the depth of the wound, it will surely leave a tattered scar of flesh behind.

An errant thought crosses your mind then – will he have such painful memories of this specific wound? Or will he recall this one to be the scar that brought him back to you?

You can’t help it when your lower lip trembles. You can never be surprised at the story of this scar’s origin – it will be engrained in your mind forever. Despite your adoration for the hero, you share in his pain, your own body wincing as a new trickle of crimson stains his temple. You tense your jaw, the muscles in your neck quivering under the strain of your ministrations. Even if he remembers this night fondly, you know that every time you glance at the healed section of his body, you’ll remember his tears, his debilitating pain.

“I’m calling Toshinori,” you grit your teeth, steeling your will, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“I let him know I was coming.” Izuku inhales in short bursts; it’s all his chest can handle before splintering pain streaks through his lungs like lightning. He winces as he shifts, one hand drifting to your hip. He dips his thumb beneath the fabric of your top, a shirt he recognizes as his own based on the size of it as it fully engulfs your figure. His logo is on the center, bright green text in stark contrast to the dark grey fabric.

A wave of pride swells within him, starting at the base of his back and building upward like effervescent champagne bubbles floating to the surface. He opens his mouth to set them free in the form of smothering kisses, his lips traveling to every available expanse of your skin he can find.

Deku is a force of nature, a whirlwind you cannot reckon with, so instead you succumb to him.

You allow him to swallow you whole for the first time, diving deeper into the eye of his storm until he is swirling around you and suffocating you. But you do not care. If this is how you have to go, with his tongue holding you hostage, hands like anchors on your hips, dragging you deeper until all you know is the darkness, then you are fine with that.

You’d gladly drown as long as he was the one holding you down.

But Izuku Midoriya is not the dark. He is anything but.

So, instead of burning your breath with his own oxygen, he fills you to the brim with light. He is a sunbeam incarnate, pushing through every crack in your bones to cement them with his kindness. His fingers, while biting into your hips, send a singing sensation up into your skin until you can’t help but smile into his kiss. They are rough with tattered flesh, scars of the past and present plaguing his body like a parasite, eating away at his skin until no longer has anything left to give.

Deku doesn’t wince when you sink down on top of him, settling your body against his thighs. Instead he wraps his arms around you to give you some kind of solace, palms searching your shoulders for the perfect place to rest. His fingers are warm beneath your shirt as his fingers seek out the curve of your spine.

The pure thickness of his body is not lost on you, not now. ­Your hands travel over his shoulders, his muscles rippling beneath the pads of your fingers. You shiver when he holds you closer, your chest flush with his, the tactile pleasure from his rough skin making your toes curl.

His shoulders are riddled with tiny, slicing scars, a light pink color in contrast to his standard tanned skin. You look for scar after scar, appreciating the damaged parts of him just as much as the smooth ones. You moan when both of his hands squeeze your waist, the pure size of him a gentle reminder as his palms engulf your ribs, his knuckles counting the bones as he runs his hands up and down.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs as he disconnects his mouth from yours, tears settled in his irises, making them glassy, “the villain I-I fought, th-they had a canceling quirk, and they almost got me.”

You know that got me is the safer, calmer equivalent of killed me. His kindness oozes like honey into every facet of him, filling the cracks like veins of marble. Your heart squeezes within your chest at the reality that he could have been lost to you, and suddenly the wounds on his body matter a little less.

No, now it is all about having him here, dense and hot beneath your body. Your fingertips tremble at the thought of him being a ghost of the past, something you once had a hold of, but now is nothing but a memory. You feel hot tears drip over your lashes, clumping up at the base of your eyelids as they flow freely. You sniffle, your hands finding the back of his head to cradle tenderly.

Izuku’s voice is soft, his cheeks gleaming red as he admits his next words, “You were all I could think about.”

Your voice breaks with a sob and you hold him tight around the neck, surging forward to kiss him soundly on the mouth. Izuku wraps his arms around your whole body, holding you snugly as he tilts his head for a better angle. You relish in the warmth he provides, his solid presence giving you comfort as you try to drink him in, pushing aside all the thoughts of potentially never having him like this again.

It’s not even about the way your stomach turns as his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, or how hot your body grows as he engulfs you like a flame. No, it is something beautiful and pristine, something that curls around your spine and bolsters it, holding you upright with confidence. Izuku has given you something you haven’t had in so long that you almost can’t put a name to it.

Peace.

There is an undeniable calm that washes over you whenever he is around, whether it be by distance or severe closeness. He suffocates you in his light no matter how far away he is; purely by knowing that he is alive, your heart quiets in your chest. You feel safer as you walk down the streets, the very notion that he will always be there, watching from wherever he may be, builds your bones stronger so you can walk with confidence.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” you gasp, coming up for air. You don’t go far, your nose nudging over his cheek as you pant quickly, your chest heaving. “I-I can’t do this without you.”

“Hey,” Deku’s voice is calm, his palms reaching up the back of your shoulders to cover you entirely in his heat. All you want is to coat yourself in him from top to bottom, let him claim you however he needs to, so you never have to let this go. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You open your eyes as he nudges his nose over the bow of your lips, kissing your chin tenderly. Your pupils dilate as you take in the smattering of dark freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, painting his skin erratically so that you know he must be a work of art, a gift from the gods down to mankind. He is too perfect to be anything else.

Your forehead drops as you let out a shaky breath, steadying yourself with your grip on his shoulders. “I-I know, I just…”

Izuku repositions his hands so they’re beneath your top, the warm pads of his fingertips leaving a blazing trail of fire behind as he maps out the curves of your body. You watch as his ripped costume falls in tattered shreds on his shoulders, giving way to the pretty expanse of skin usually hidden beneath it.

The sight of his flayed skin, coated in scars and painted with beauty marks, makes your spine rattle within your frame. Your fingers drift to the bared parts of his body on instinct, a primal need settling in the pit of your stomach, and you trace over the white, lightning-like scars. Your thumb brushes over his collarbone, as if you could sweep away his freckles to leave behind unmarked skin.

Your mind wanders, thoughts branching out to wonder if there even is a patch of his skin that is pure, unmarred by any form of markings.

Izuku must follow your train of thought, because he peels his hands away from your body to tug his costume at the waist, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the floor before he pulls his shirt over his head, or what remains of it. The tattered fabric is in a bloody, dirty heap on the floor, but you barely have the wherewithal to notice when he is bared in front of you.

A gasp parts your mouth when you take in his nude torso. He is a plethora of contours and shadows, sinew holding his muscles together in a taut fashion. Your hands are hovering in front of his chest, darkened nipples piqued under the cool air blowing from the vent above. You have to force yourself to swallow, pent-up tension making your throat bob.

“See?” Izuku’s voice is hoarse, as if he’s holding himself back from tears, “I’m right here.”

Your eyes try to find a part of him that isn’t doused in speckles, the darkened patches of skin making him look even tanner. He has them sprinkled all over his body, clumps of them gathering together like tiny nebulas. Your gaze slowly drags down from his collarbones to his abdomen, the freckled dots like destinations on a treasure map, leading you to one central location.

When you make eye contact with the trail of dark hair that starts at his navel, thin and then growing thicker, you feel your stomach turn over. You lick your drying lips, a heat beginning to build up in your core. You would clench your thighs together, but the way you’re straddling him currently makes that impossible. Instead, you roll your hips forward so you can scoot further up his lap.

It’s like you don’t believe what you see in front of you – that he’s truly here, open and bare in front of you, vulnerable in every sense of the word. The wound on his head has stopped bleeding, but that doesn’t mean that he’s okay.

“Touch me.”

You tilt your head, confused by his forward command. Your cheeks burn bright with a blush and he chuckles at the sight of you so flustered. Midoriya takes you by the hands, guiding your touch to his chest first.

The tips of your fingers blaze when they find a ragged scar that stretches across the entirety of his pectoral, “I have so many of these ugly things.”

“How many?” you find yourself asking, the filter hard to find when he has you about ready to come undone like this. You feel yourself go lightheaded, hazy at the feel of his rough skin, his heart beating irregularly beneath your touch.

His voice is heavy when he answers, “I lost count.”

Your eyes snap upward to find the usual playful green color of his irises has faded to a pale jade shade, “Izu, hey-”

Deku swallows an emotional lump in his throat, eyelids fluttering at the pain of it before he inhales a full breath. His chest brushes up against yours and you have to withhold the whine that desperately wants to slip from your lips.

“I don’t understand why people are so fascinated with them,” his tone is teetering on the wrong side of angry, lips curled in a downward snarl. He glances south at the rest of his body, pale scars in stark contrast to the rest of his tanned body. “They’re just reminders of my failure.”

You are forceful when you pull his jaw upward, yanking him to face you before you kiss him harshly. Your intense kiss makes him gasp, his hips rolling up into you despite the pain he’s in. Your palms are bruising on his cheeks, but you don’t care because at least he’s kissing you. Deku’s fingertips finally make their way to your hips where he seeks purchase against your ribcage. His digits are tantalizing as he roams the expanse of your midsection.

“You’re my hero,” your voice is breathless and broken when you release him for oxygen. “Don’t you ever call yourself a failure again.”

Izuku’s throat bobs as he basks in your ferocity – eyes ablaze and fingertips harsh as you hold him in place. He finds himself nodding without really knowing what you’ve said, but he supposes that’s just the effect you have on him. You have taken root in his soul, the galaxy in your eyes blacking out everything else in his mind, allowing him not even a moment to let self-doubt creep in and steal away his faith.

After all, in his eyes, you are his whole world, shattered stars and all.

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“You picked dinner, so I get to pick the movie,” you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, your palms splayed against his chest as you press kisses into his shoulder blades.

You’re obsessed with his back, like some little secret you don’t get to see very often. Tonight the two of you were doing yoga before you ate dinner, so he’s currently clad in only a pair of compression pants that reach his mid-calf, leaving his entire upper body for you to appreciate with your gaze and explorative touches.

You nose over the curve of his spine, kisses open-mouthed as he washes the dishes in the sink. You hear his breath hitch and you wonder if now is a good time to start experimenting with how far you can go. Your eyes roam to the base of his spine, the two small dimples at the start of the swell of his ass making your mouth salivate. You relinquish one hand from his chest to dip your thumb into the cavity his muscles have created, brushing against a cluster of freckles.

It has been some time since you’ve seen him with his shirt off, and many times since then, but you’ve never been able to discover what’s below his belt. Your mind wanders as you suppress the itch in the base of your fingerprints, like the very code of you is designed to strip him down to nothing. You want to know how far his freckles truly go.

In your mind, you believe that he is sprinkled with stardust, paler patches of freckles sporadically placed along his body. He is a canvas, fresh and ready for the constellations to burn into his flesh. You want to swirl your hands over the galaxies imprinted upon him by the gods themselves; as if he were made of marble, ready to carve and curate however they may please.

You take a leap of faith when you dip your fingertips beneath the tight waistband of his joggers. The aborted stutter of his hips combined with the sharp intake of breath from his throat tells you all you need to know.

From here you can see clusters of freckles on the globes of his ass, concentrated mostly near the top, where sunlight can penetrate when he’s not in his hero suit. You have to catch yourself before you drip drool onto his curved backside.

The hand on his chest roams until you find his pebbled nipple, the crevices of your palm washing over the flesh until you hear a muted moan shake his throat. You lean forward, forehead tucked between the cartilage of his shoulder blades so you can feel the heat radiating from him even closer now.

“Can I-”

“Please.”

You’ve never heard him beg before, at least not like this.

It has been some time since your first date, since the first kiss, since the first confession. Your hands start to sweat at the thought of touching his salacious side, pricking with anticipation as you slowly make your way around his hip towards the bulge in his pants. Your tongue stills within your throat as you brush your thumb against the thick tufts of dark green hair at the base of his stomach beneath his navel.

His body is like a roadmap leading you to one desolate place, his skin singing with heat as you grow closer. You can almost make out a whine that he’s clamped his teeth down on to suppress, but that does nothing to deter you from finding a dozen other ways to elicit an infinite number of those same prurient sounds from his lungs.

When the outside of your palm brushes against the throbbing thickness held tight within his spandex, you feel your whole-body tense. Izuku gulps audibly and you have to hold in something that is a mix of a gasp and a giggle.

You reach your free hand down from his chest to pull at the band of his pants, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. You can hear the bob of it against his stomach and you let out a heated breath that spills down over his spine. He shivers and you think that maybe you have him just as captivated as he usually has you.

The thought is thrilling. It bolsters your confidence and allows you the audacity to lean forward and slowly trail your fingers along the base of his cock, tickling him in the most tentative way possible. He grits his teeth and you can feel his buttocks clench in front of you as he tries his hardest not to buck forward and ruin your moment.

You kiss the smattering of freckles near the top of his right shoulder, lavishing the area with your tongue as you trail your thumb up the base of his cock until you reach the tip. You can feel the bead of pre-come beneath the print of your finger and you collect it with the ridges of your digit before dragging it downward to coat him before you begin to pump your hand.

He is thick in your hand, unforgivingly hard as his cock pulses within your grasp. You can tell that it’s taking all of his restraint not to throw his head back and release obscene sounds from his throat, like his desire is caged within his chest, begging to be let out with each erratic heartbeat.

Your tongue licks over his shoulders and you know that he must be imagining what your mouth would feel like wrapped around his cock based on the mewling whimpers that leave his tongue. You can hear him panting, but you want to see him, desperate and whining, so you tug on his waistline with your free palm.

It takes him a moment, his eyes glistening with bliss and his tongue lolled out of his mouth, but you manage to get him turned so he’s facing you. Your eyes drag slowly down the entire expanse of his torso, catching on his pert nipples, bright and pink as they shrink beneath the stinging touch of your fingertips. You catch onto the constellations of freckles drifting along his torso – if you look hard enough, you swear that they move. Your eyes cross when you look too closely, so instead you allow your attention to drop lower.

Izuku’s mouth is wide open as your eyes fall to the vee of his hips, the paler freckles placed there making you smile. You lower yourself to your knees, semi-uncomfortable thanks to the tile of the kitchen, but you don’t care. Right now, your focus is singled in on one thing and one thing alone.

You lick your lips and the closeness of your tongue to his cock makes Izuku blush in expectancy. There is a little line of drool seeping from the corner of his mouth if you blink your eyes free of lust. You pump him another time in your hand, collecting the new wash of pre from his tip to lubricate his cock. As you do so, your eyes drift to the base of him where his green pubic hair collects in a dark tuft. You can’t decide which part of him to focus on because it’s all too much.

Somehow, he has a scar that runs from the innermost part of his thigh upward, just beneath his balls. You wince at the thought of what had to have caused that, and how much it hurt. You allow one hand to drift over the scar as your eyes come into contact with the patch of freckles hidden beneath the trail of dark, coarse hair that is usually hidden by his clothing.

As you pump your hand down to the base of him, you use your thumb to brush some of the hair away, curious as to how dark the freckles are there. Izuku is completely maddened by your touch, fallen under the enchantment of your hands. He doesn’t even mind that you’ve taken a break from dragging your soft hand around his dick, his mind already blitzed from the short burst of ministrations you have already administered.

You hum as you kiss along the taut skin of his lower abdomen, dragging your lips and tongue towards the thick trail of hair that leads you to his cock. It’s almost like the freckled areas taste different, although you’ve probably made all of that up in your mind. And yet, you don’t mind that it’s more of a fantasy instead of a reality, relishing in the sweetness, nonetheless.

“Fuck,” you hear from above you, one of his hands hung in midair, unsure of whether to grab you or the counter. The other palm grips into his hair and the scalp, tugging to keep himself grounded so he does not float away at the gentle caress of your tongue against his skin.

The bow of your lips purses as you kiss upward to the head of his cock, bright red and teeming with pre-come. The silvery, pearlescent bud of arousal makes your mouth water and you find that you can’t help yourself as you encircle your lips around the tip of him.

Izuku is immediately broken from whatever resilience he was able to gather, his hips bucking forward as he slams both hands into the counter. Little broken bits of marble fall into your hair but you don’t care, instead indulging yourself in watching his reaction to your movements. Midoriya’s pupils are blown wide, completely taken over his usually wide irises. The green bleeds black, lust like a cloud misting in his line of sight.

As his upper body tenses, you’re able to see every contour of muscle, every cord of sinew, and you can’t help it when drool dribbles down your chin onto the tile floor. You moan against the head of his cock, taking another inch of him in as you slide forward to get more comfortable. The sound of his nails creaking against the countertop makes your cunt flutter from within the cotton of your panties, clenching around nothing as you imagine the thickness of him in your mouth against your glutinous walls, squeezing him for all the come he can produce.

You trail one hand around the curling scars on his thigh, thumbprint finding the ridges of the expansive scar, the raised skin making your heart ache for a moment before you refocus on his dick. Your eyes almost cross as you try to focus on the freckles now hidden once more by the thick green hair at the bottom of his belly.

As you retreat backward, your line of sight continues down the length of his cock to realize that he has a littering of freckles of varying shapes, sizes, and colors, scattered all along the entire shaft of his dick, and even a few on the tip. You can’t help it when you smile, licking at them as if they could be removed if you lapped at the skin harshly enough.

It is the small things such as this that make your time with Izuku Midoriya so enjoyable. You are learning something about him every day, something even more interesting and exciting than the last.

Before you can slip your lips further down his length, his hand reaches up to clean the debris from your hair, a broken apology parting his lips momentarily. You look up at him, the tenderness in his touch making your heart go soft.

“H-Holy,” his hips buck forward when you blink up at him, the base of his throat bobbing as he curses, “shit.”

As you pull away from his cock, Izuku’s chest shudders as he tries to regulate his breathing. He shifts his feet on the tile beneath you trying to keep himself from pushing up onto the balls of his toes so he can keep some semblance of control as you pleasure him.

Izuku turns away from you and you whine, your tongue licking the underside of his cockhead before you ask, “Why won’t you look at me?”

He can barely force the words out of his throat as he gazes down at you briefly, the sounds coming forth berated and bedraggled, as if he’d dragged barbed wire across the syllables, “I can’t, damn it. I-I’m gonna-”

You take advantage of the line of sight he has on you, opening your mouth wide and taking him in one fell sucking motion.

Midoriya chokes on his own drool, a little silvery string of it falling in midair until it creates a droplet on the crown of your head. He can’t even find the focus to apologize, his knuckles white as he grips the countertop to keep himself sane.

The word he squeaks out next makes you smile, your teeth grazing his dick: “-come.”

You take it as a challenge, gripping his thighs with your nails, digging crescent moons into his pretty tan skin, adding the shapes to his star-like freckled skin, creating a whole galaxy with a simple bruising touch. Izuku can’t help it as his hips stutter forward, the tip of his cock bucking into the back of your mouth to make you gag.

He’s not sure how you do it, with his cock jammed all the way into the back of your throat, but somehow you have the wherewithal to cup his balls in one hand as the other uses his leg like an anchor to stay hovering on your toes. You never cease to amaze him, even now as you’re on your knees and worshipping his cock like your life might depend on it.

“Touch me,” you whimper as you come up for air, “if you won’t look at me, touch me, please.”

Izuku licks his lips and barely has it in him to pull his hand from the counter, but somehow, he manages it. His hand threads through your locks, fingertips buzzing with a mixture of adrenaline and desire. The lust has his whole being singing with anticipation as you bring him to the precipice of arousal. He knows that he won’t last much longer, especially not with you drooling around his cock and bobbing your head in perfect rhythm. And now that he can feel you beneath his fingers, he’s not sure if he’ll even be able to speak coherently when this is all over with.

His hands are exploratory in your hair, dipping in and out of your tresses like waves, finding your scalp to scratch lightly, eliciting a husky moan from your throat. The vibrations of your sounds make his cock pulse, twitching against your tongue as you suck him deeper. Izuku isn’t sure how there is anymore of your throat for him to fuck, but when you hollow out your cheeks, he slides further in, and the pleasure starts to coil around the base of his spine as he’s worked towards his high.

“Baby, I-I’m close,” Izuku manages to blurt when he’s coherent enough, your tongue sweeping down the vein on the underside of his dick. He gasps for breath, his head hanging forward, so his dark curls sweep over his lashes to hide his pretty orbs from you. He grunts, as he ruts up into you, “Real close, hell.”

You take it as a challenge, stiffening your posture so you can force your head up and down, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto your pants, but you don’t care. The way his hands grip into your scalp and the quivering of his thighs as he holds off his own release are but a war cry for you, begging your body to go further, to force that release from within his body.

“Come for me, Izu,” you whimper against his cock, the words muffled by the thick skin of him. You try your best to pout, looking innocent with eyes blown wide, “Please, I wanna taste you. So bad.”

His jaw falls slack, and you know that he’s close, his tip is practically rock hard against your teeth. You hollow out your cheeks and moan as you slowly suck him as hard as you can manage with your jaw starting to ache from the stretch of him. Your pussy clamps around nothing, begging for his girth within your walls.

A few heaving breaths stretch his chest, the muscles of his pectorals rippling in strain as he tries to hold himself back, to respectfully come undone instead of sputtering out like a teenager. You nod with his cock still in your mouth, your tongue padding over the sensitive underside. A wuthering whimper breaks within his throat and you feel his thighs clench one final time before he’s coming apart between your cheeks.

You try to breathe through your nose, his cock buried all the way in your mouth so his come hits in spurts against the back of your throat. You use your hands dug into the plush flesh of his ass to steady yourself, his body uncaring to the pain as long as he’s bucking up into your mouth. His hand in your hair goes tight before falling slack, gentle fingertips wafting through your tresses aimlessly.

You tilt your head back as he begins to soften within your lips, trying to keep his come from dribbling out the corners of your mouth. You catch most of it, the slightly sweet taste of it helping it to go down smoother. You suck him one more time, trying to pull the rest of the arousal from his slit, and a high-pitched whine breaks through the calm of the air like shattering glass.

“S-Sorry,” he moans as his eyes screw shut, one of his palms latching onto the countertop again.

A content laugh turns your lips upward and you kiss the head of his cock before he helps you rise back to your feet. Before you’re upright again, he bolsters forward to kiss you square on the lips. His tongue delves between your teeth, mapping out the curves of your gums as he tastes his spend in each crevice of your mouth.

The moan that reverberates from his chest makes your toes curl, your hands curling to fists against his chest as he presses further into you, trying to be flush with your entire body. You can barely breath as he suffocates you lovingly, bringing stars into your vision as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your hands spread out over the plane of his chest, the tips of your fingers searching for his scars, the placement of them burnt into your mind like a map.

Deku pulls away with a panting string of apologies mixed with appreciation, his irises overtaking his pupils now that he’s come down from his high. His hands search your face and then your arms, taking in every inch of you as he kisses all over your face.

You giggle, wrapping your fingers around his neck to play with the sharp hair at the nape of his neck, the undercut style making his locks dense and coarse up to his ears where the straight line runs.

“What movie do you want to watch?” you ask breathlessly, scrunching your nose as he kisses the tip of it.

Izuku is winded when he nudges his nose against yours, a laugh on the tip of his tongue, “I don’t fucking care.”

You roll your lips together, pushing yourself up on your toes to kiss his mouth chastely, “We might have to do that more often if I’m going to get whatever I want each time.”

The thought of you going down on him makes his heart stutter within the cage of his ribs, stars spread out and blinding against the backs of his lids. He can already imagine the sight of you on your knees, your lips around him as you moan and writhe while he holds your hair tight within his fist…

“Earth to Izuku?” you pat his cheek playfully. “You with us?”

His voice is stuttered as he answers you, a blissful glassiness still coating his irises, “Y-Yeah, I’m right here. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

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“C’mon, Princess, you can take it, I know you can,” he murmurs into midair, voice stern but breathy, sending a shiver down your spine.

You lick at the head of his cock, engorged and bright red, beads of pre-come bubbling out of his slit, awaiting you to catch them with your tongue. You lap over the taut, pinkened skin, eyes fluttering closed at the taste of him – a fine combination of salty and sweet. You can’t help the draw of your attention to the tanned splotches covering him like stardust, mapping out what would seem to be a different set of constellations every time you look too long.

Izuku’s hand is woven into your hair carefully, so he does not pinch your scalp, but he can still hold onto the makeshift ponytail he’s created with his fingers bunched around your tresses. You whimper, eyes torn from his freckled skin, as he guides your mouth closer to his cock, the head of him brushing against your closed lips.

His voice is thick with restraint, his throat bobbing at the sight of your pretty, jeweled irises looking between him and his cock, wondering how you’re going to take the thick of him between your plush little lips. Your eyes are almost crossed as you try to count his freckles, as if you could pay that close of attention when he’s got you on your knees.

“Gonna be a good girl for me, Angel?” Deku is patronizingly kind as he brushes his knuckles over the curve of your jaw. Your eyes zero in on the scarred stripes along his palm and forearm, your fingertips reaching up to slowly drag across the pale lines that tell a story you’ve heard a dozen times. Izuku makes an audible noise of consideration at your marveling, “You were just beggin’ me for my cock, and now you won’t even open your mouth for me?”

He sounds like he’s pouting, lower lip jutted out just enough for it to look convincing. You swallow your inhibitions, throat bobbing when he brushes his cock along the hollows of your cheeks, the head of him smearing what remains of his pre onto your skin. He chuckles as you gasp, your jaw hung open just enough for him to rut up into your mouth.

You gag around him, lurching forward as tears coat your lashes. You whimper, looking up to him like he might save you from what’s to come. But no, you asked for this. You begged him to let you taste his cock, to have him spill his fullest load onto your tongue and force you to swallow.

“Such a pretty girl,” his words turn to a moan as you take him to the base, forcing yourself to breathe evenly so you won’t gag around him again. His hand in your hair tightens and you take a deep breath, the short, stubbled pubic hairs surrounding his cock doing little to hide the freckles on his smooth skin.

You’re not sure why you love them so much – the freckles.

They are such a distraction that you don’t notice Izuku yanking you by the ponytail until you come off his cock with a loud pop. You whine, keening forward to try and lick at his tip, “I-Izu-please.”

“Uh uh,” he cinches his hand around your hair even tighter, tugging your skin backward until it burns. A smirk lilts his lips, “What’s my name, baby girl?”

Your eyes go wide, pupils swallowing your irises whole. Deku almost misses the color, if it not for the fucked out look that takes their place, telling him exactly what he’s done to you. He bites down on his lower lip, half-hooded lids considering you, “You’re already a mess for me, aren’t you baby? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Your cock,” you whine, squinting your eyes so you don’t have to feel his authoritative penetrating your very being. Your thighs tense, pussy clamping down around nothing but thin air, wet with arousal and begging to be full of him. Before Izuku can tell you to correct yourself with a simple syllable, you repeat yourself, “Your cock, Daddy.”

A satisfied expression smooths his features, the red of his cheeks doing little to hide the smattering of freckles to match those littered across his cock and thighs. You brush your nose against his navel, kissing the gentle swell of muscle beneath it. Izuku licks his lips, hips rolling forward so his cock brushes over the length of your throat.

“That’s’a good girl.” Deku purses his lips as you kiss down his shaft, your tongue lapping over every inch of him. Your eyes are level with his pubic bone, searching for the tanned droplets of sunshine incarnate on his skin, hidden beneath dark tufts of jade hair curled around the base of his cock.

Before you take him between your lips, you lick a stripe from the underside of his shaft up to his navel. You can’t help yourself as the dark smattering of freckles call out to you, a reminder that even though he is tainted by the war of the world, you still have these small victories to come back to. You worship his taut skin with your lips and tongue, the muscle parting your mouth to lick at his body.

Izuku’s fingers weave into the hair at the base of your head, eyes watching you closely as you pay special attention to the various patches of densely packed freckles. You nose over his hipbone, breathing slowly, the wash of warmth prickling his skin and forcing him up on his toes as he reacts to it.

There is a large part of him that wants you to stop. Not because he’s selfish enough to force you to pay attention to the throbbing heat between his legs, but rather because your praise is something that makes him feel even more unworthy. He is self-conscious of his body, both the discolored spots that he’s never able to be rid of in tandem with the ragged rips in his flesh that you seem to love so much. He has never understood your fascination with his body, but you are relentless with your affections.

It comes in many forms. At times it is the way you run your fingertips over his shoulders when you’re laying together, and other times it is your mouth finding his knuckles when you think he’s asleep. You are unashamed to lavish his body with unending passion, and even the smallest of deformities that he believes are his secret, you manage to find.

You loll your tongue out to let the collected spit pool over his length, sucking at the head when you get to it. Deku rubs his thumb against your neck, fingertips searching your hair for purchase. He’s taken aback when you hollow out your cheeks, sucking him deep into the heat of your mouth. His eyes go wide, but he’s thankful you can’t see with the way his head is thrown back.

“Fuck, baby,” his hand twitches against your scalp, “fuck, this mouth.”

He starts rolling his hips forward, pumping himself in and out of your mouth like he might your pussy. You feel drool seeping out of the corners of your lips but you don’t dare break away, because that would bring forth a punishment, and your cunt is already sopping wet with the anticipation of his cock buried deep within you. Deku grunts, his chest vibrating with the sound, and he holds you still with the hand against your head.

You reach up to find his free palm, lacing your fingers together at the knuckle, using him as some sort of an anchor to reality as the subservient headspace begins to take over. It washes through you like a balm, a warm sensation that feels like home.  Your eyelids fall over your irises, hiding your expression from him, but he can tell the way you feel by your ministrations against his hand and on his cock. You are desperate for him, one hand clutching his thigh until your nails dig in and leave tiny crescent moon prints behind.

You like to think of his freckles as stars, your marks making him more like the night sky with each grip. You moan as you hold yourself at the base of him, tongue lapping around his length from within your mouth. Your thumb finds a familiar scar on the back of his hand, knuckles marred from battle and bravery.

It’s times like these that you want to cry for him, for what his body has endured. It’s the reason you want to worship every inch of him, to give him what he deserves because god knows the world will never give him back what he’s due. So here you sit, perched in front of him like a little dove, eyes blown to hell and your metaphorical wings spread wide as you take him for all he’s worth.

Izuku can’t take it any longer – the tenderness of your touch mixed with the obedient look in your eyes. It’s all too much, making his head spin at your sincerity.

“C’mere,” he whispers, tugging you by the throat, gently but firmly.

And you follow him, like you would follow him anywhere.

You step forward dumbly, blindly going wherever he tells you. He guides you to the bed, turning you over so your face is pressed into the coolness of the sheets, your bright red cheeks thankful for the change in temperature. You angle your ass upward perfect, round globes ripe for his hands to lay into.

“Such a sloppy little pussy, baby,” he murmurs against the skin of your lower back as he kisses down your spine. His middle finger runs up and down the length of your slit, collecting the silvery strands against his digit, “All this just for me?”

“All for you, Daddy, all for you, promise,” you’re whimpering out, cunt desperately clenched as you try to trap his finger in your heat. “Please, I want you so bad, need your cock, Daddy.”

Izuku pushes his finger into your core, curling it up towards that special spot that it seems only he can find. His finger is thick, knuckle curved in just the right way that it drags along your walls salaciously, eliciting a loud, careening moan from your mouth. You muffle your sounds into the mattress, but Midoriya is having none of that.

He yanks you by the throat, fingers digging deep into your skin until you’re sure that you’ll have bruises, “Nah uh, little one. I want to hear you scream for me.”

Midoriya pumps his finger into you mercilessly, your arousal coating him down to the palm, making your thighs slick. You whimper, your lewd sounds echoing off the walls. You can feel the tip of his cock against your ass, throbbing with heat, and there’s nothing you can do to stop yourself from imagining it in place of his fingers.

“I know you can be louder, slut,” Deku pinches your neck tighter in his grip, “I want the neighbors to know my name when we’re through.”

You try to protest but it’s cut short when his finger rams into you, two knuckles deep, a sharp cry splitting your throat wide open. The sound morphs into a whimper, tears stinging in the corners of your eyes.

Deku leans forward to kiss between your shoulder blades, his voice hoarse with want when he speaks, “That’s my girl. Do it again.”

He relinquishes your throat to start slapping your ass, his eyes unable to fall away from your pretty skin marked red from his ministrations. You grit your teeth together so you can better withstand the pain, giving yourself something else to focus on besides his unrelenting spankings.

“Daddy, harder,” you whine, your ass stinging but not so much that you can’t follow through on your plea.

A dark chuckle reverberates throughout the room, Midoriya’s smirk from earlier returning. If you could see his eyes, you’d notice the way his pupils have completely overtaken his emerald orbs, giving way to the parts of him that want to make you hurt only so he can be the one to soothe you all better.

He indulges you, palm stretched wider so he can land harder smacks to your cheeks. Now he’s got two fingers in you, filling your cunt with his knuckles, the scars against them giving you friction that makes you see stars. He pumps you in time with his spankings, slow but merciless. Deku is careful not to go too far, no matter how difficult that might be with the lust that clouds his vision, painting his sight bright red.

“Good girl,” he rewards you by stopping, grabbing your plush ass in his fingertips, digging blunt nails into your skin so it stings even harsher.

You rut your hips back against his hand at the sudden jolt of pain, tears dripping from your eyelids to the mattress, staining the sheets a darker shade. You whimper, your mind unable to focus on any one stimulation – your ass, your cunt, or your throat.

“You think you’re ready for my cock?” he asks, although you know it to be rhetorical.

You’re nodding your head anyway, desperately begging inaudibly for him to stuff you full, your cunt suffocating around his cock as he pounds into you. Deku slowly drags his hand from your pussy, words dripping just like your core, “What was that, Princess? I couldn’t hear you.”

Now you’re foaming at the mouth to force syllables from between your teeth, blubbering around tears. You sniffle, frustrated with your own headspace and timid with the thought of punishment for not answering quick enough, “Y-Yes, Daddy. I-I’m ready.”

“Hey,” he runs his hand, searing from the spankings, up the length of your spine, fingertips mapping out each vertebra, “you still with me, baby?”

You turn to look over your shoulder when he brushes his thumb over the little blooming bruises on your neck, evidence of his fingers claiming you for his own, “Yeah, I-I’m right here.”

A smile tugs on his lips, his fingers finally pulled from your sopping heat to coat his cock in your slick. You whimper at the loss of contact, cunt fluttering around nothing as you beg for him to fill you up again, any way he chooses.

And he obliges you, bottoming out within the first stroke.

You can’t help it when a fresh set of saltine droplets track down your cheeks, your head thrown back in pleasure as he holds himself steady, his pelvis flush with your ass. It still burns, the stinging of skin-on-skin doing little to quell the ache from his spankings. You lick your lips to try and soothe yourself in some way, your throat already crackling from use.

Licking your lips, you gently move back against him, encouraging him, “Daddy, I want you to fuck me. Please, won’t you fuck me?”

Deku sounds like he’s trying to hold back some sort of salacious sound, a strangled noise caught in his throat like barbed wire. You look back at him, chin pressed against your collarbone. It’s the sight of you that does him in, that wants to claim you for every ounce of what you’ve got to give. He wants to mark your body until there is no color remaining but bright purple and blue and red, bruises and scrapes alike adorning your pretty body, letting the whole world know exactly who you belong to.

The thought of sinking his teeth into every available spot of skin that he can find makes his fingers curl tighter around the supple skin of your thighs until you’re crying out for him. You writhe beneath him as opens his eyes, baring even your soul with his stare. His body squirms as he withstands the desire to launch himself at you, feral and promising with his teeth finding your pristine body and marring it for his own selfish cause.

At least then your bodies would match in their markings.

You’d be his own little galaxy; he muses as his hands massage into your thighs to keep himself busy, so he doesn’t follow through on the yearnings rolling around in his mind. He can see you stood next to him, your body littered in affections – hickeys that are blown out all around your body, little nebulas and planets with their swirling colors of purple and blue; long lines of bright pink scratch marks that streak forward like shooting stars curling around your muscles; pierced tooth marks that scatter across your body like stars.

Even though he’s the Number One Pro Hero, Izuku has never felt so whole until he’s balls deep in your pussy, the tip of him tucked up against your cervix so much so that you swear you feel him in your spine. He takes one palm to gently brush over your stomach, the bulge of his cock making his pride swell almost as much as your belly. You are his whole world, whether or not you are just as bruised and battered as he is. He will bear the burden of the scars if it means he can have you like this forever.

“Take me so well, Princess,” he murmurs into the skin of your shoulders, leaning forward so his chest is pressed flush with your back.

He is hot, but not unbearably so. Almost in a way that reminds you he is still there, an anchor for your soul to latch onto in the darkness of the room, holding you firmly to tether you to this version of reality. You grasp the sheets in your hands, desperate to feel him but unable to from this position, so you settle for the thread count instead.

“Please, Daddy, I want to feel you,” you beg him again, whimpers bubbling up into your chest like champagne bubbles. The effervescent feeling is almost too much, too overwhelming, as it rushes to your head quickly. You have to close your eyes, so you do not get dizzy. You see stars as your lids come down over your pupils and the sight of them reminds you of Izuku’s body. So much so that you want to look up at him again, begging him with your words, “Want to touch you.”

Deku obliges you, slowly pumping his tremoring cock in and out of your heat, coating himself in your slick before twisting your body around so you can peer up at him through half-lidded eyes, “Look at this slutty, sloppy pussy. Such a pathetic little mess for me, aren’t’cha?”

“Yes, Daddy, all for you.” You nod, blinking repeatedly to try and keep your eyesight clear so you can make out his beautiful travesty of a body. Despite the absolute adoration held in your pretty orbs, Deku notices that it is not his face you seek out when you first are turned to look at him, instead your eyes drift to the bared parts of his body that he hates most.

It would seem that each time you find him this way, with your hands mapping out his torso underneath your touch, you find a new part of him, a new marking that you don’t remember being there before. Your breath shudders from your lungs and it feels like thunder erupts in your chest when you breathe, “Please, Daddy.”

You are pouting as you start to run your touch up his arms, starting at his wrists where his palms are pinning your hips into the bed. You swirl your thumbnail around the familiar scars of his hands, those old marks from his time at Yuuei, pushing himself to be the best young hero-in-training there ever was. You recall watching the Sports Festival in his first year, the fight with Todoroki Shouto like a burnt ember settled in the back of your mind. You see the fire and the ice, the shuddering arena shaking with the imminent power of the teenager prodigies.

A hum buzzes in your throat as your fingerprints map out the way to his elbows, finding lengthy scars that make you shudder. Your tongue lolls out against your lips as you wish you could patch his body up with your kiss. You know that he does not marvel at the sight of himself in the same way that you might; you put him up on this pedestal, scars and all, and yet he only sees them as a weakness.

The rough patch of tarnished skin on his right bicep has begun to lose its rigidity as time passes. It was one of his first scars and has been worn down with time. Your hand still finds it, though, even as your eyes are screwed shut and he is angled away from you. It’s like you have a map of his body burned into the back of your eyelids, memorized from all of the times that you’ve fallen apart beneath him or comforted him with your touch.

He is patronizing when he speaks next, eyes blown to hell at the sight of you so far gone for him when he hasn’t even brought you to your first orgasm. He can feel you spasming around him, cunt flexing to try and coax him closer to the edge. He is nowhere near the precipice, holding himself off for your sake, wanton to see you come undone around his cock.

Your pupils try their hardest to focus, begging to be drawn to his bedraggled skin, the stark contrast between tan skin and pale scars heightened even further in your blissed-out state. Your palm flattens against the marking on his bicep, the flayed spot even more expansive than your hand in its entirety. You gasp as he ruts up into you painfully quick, your fingers digging into the rugged flesh, nails biting against the ridges.

When he stills within you, it gives you a moment to slacken your hold and trace the corners of the scar, pretending that he is a patchwork quilt, an antique that you’ll never be able to get enough of. You take a breath and use your free hand to find his chest, a lightning-bolt shaped scar that runs from his collarbone down until it fizzles out into a small scratch near where his taut pectorals meet.

Midoriya trails his thumb downward to your clit, brushing the rough pad of his finger against your sensitive bud. You mewl into the mattress, face turning sideways into the pillow as you no longer are able to hold yourself upright. You beg him to fuck you harder, faster, with something more that you know he has not given you yet.

“What do you want, baby girl? Tell Daddy exactly what you want me to do to this pathetic, slutty little pussy.”

You gasp out words, but he cannot make sense of them as they’re lost in the fabric of the sheets. He slams into you once before dragging his cock outward, slowly skimming the tip between your folds, “Louder. Or else I’m spanking you again.”

He thinks for a moment, tilting his head to consider you as he looks down his nose at you, “And I’m flipping you back over.”

“N-No, please, wanna-” You are begging for breath, your inflamed lungs burning with the lack of oxygen, and you can’t make syllables coherent enough for him to understand. You whimper, squeezing your eyes closed as the brunt of his hand comes down hard over your ass repeatedly until you’re screaming.

Izuku is holding you by the ass, both hands dug deep into the plush skin, “Did I fucking stutter?”

You are able to behold one last gaze of his ethereal body, skin marked like the night sky, before he has you with your face dug into the pillow, his cock and hips jackhammering into you from behind. He does not give you but a moment to breath, the fabric of the pillow stuffing your throat as you try to inhale through your mouth. You cough and it causes your cunt to squeeze around his dick. Deku stutters forward, a choking sound echoing in the back of his throat.

“Holy hell,” he mutters, leaning forward to drape himself across your back, reaching around with his hands to pinch at your nipples. “So fuckin’ tight, little one. Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You whimper out something that sounds like a response, so he takes the lead and starts rutting into you again, the obscene sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing off of the walls. You can’t help the drool that spills from your tongue, wetting the sheets and sticking to your chin. You’re practically in tears as he abuses your pussy with his cock, it only growing as you feel the buildup of his power starting to swell from within him.

The air turns electric, but not nearly hot enough for you to know that he’s turned his quirk on. You force a glance over your shoulder, mewling out something that sounds like a pleading cry for him to turn you back so you can gaze up at him again.

“But I like taking you like this, Princess,” Izuku runs his thumbs over your ass, using the cusp of his power to strike small lightning bolts of seafoam color against the skin of your backside. You jolt at the pain, bucking your hips back into him and he moans, “There you go, baby.”

You whine, curling your toes against his hips from your position. He chuckles at the sign of desperation, sweat glistening down your back from exertion. His hips slam forward again, and you’re sure he’s bruised your cervix this time with how deep he has buried himself into you. There are ridges of scar tissue around his hip bones that you can feel even as he fucks into you from behind, the raised skin making your ass burn from where he has slapped you with the strength of his quirk.

“Daddy, I wanna,” you are panting like a puppy into the sheets, your pussy dripping onto the mattress beneath you. You huff out a breath and squeal when he splits your pussy open again with a particularly rough thrust forward, “Daddy!”

Deku pinches your backside with both hands, the biting touch of pain making your eyes water until tears are coating your lashes and staining the pillowcase, “What, huh? What more do you want, Princess?”

You know that Izuku is a sucker for your needs. If you whine hard enough, he’ll give you anything you want. So, with that in mind, you pout to give your demeanor an even more innocent aspect, “I-I wanna kiss you, p-please.”

As expected, he stills his hips from where he is bruising your ass with his scars and bones alike. You wonder for a moment if the imprint of his marred skin will leave an impression on you if you could carry around a little piece of him always.

However, this time when he yanks himself from you, a squelching sound echoes throughout the room in tandem with your mewling whine at the loss of heat, and he does not reenter you immediately. You are about to stutter out something akin to a protest, but you feel his fingertips dip into your sides and instead you let loose a yelp.

Deku takes you by the hips, easily yanking you upward and flipping you around so your back is flush with the mattress, the sweat on your spine making the sheets stick to you. Your eyes are wide, hands gripping into his marred biceps like claws sinking into his skin.

“What?” he is smirking as he nudges his nose against yours, the heat of his cock pressed into your folds but not penetrating just yet. “I like this angle better.”

He nips at your skin before pulling himself back, his hand groping your breast with purpose. He is tweaking your nipple under his touch while his other hand runs his cock against your slick heat, teasing you mercilessly. He watches the lips of your pussy tense when he gets close, wavering at the anticipation of his cock dredging into you with force.

“Plus,” Deku tilts his head, palm reaching up from your chest to grab your face between his fingers, “you never answered me.”

His thumb finds your clit again, dick teasing you by resting between your thighs, throbbing and dripping with a mixture of your arousal and his pre. His fingers are intense as they squeeze your cheeks together, lips ballooned out pertly. Deku chuckles at the sight of you, red in the face and begging him for more with the subtlety of your eyes.

Something twinges within him as he can’t keep your focus on his eyes, but rather on his body. He should feel pride swell in his chest at your adoration of his finely tuned body from years of hard work, but he knows that you are focused on the scars of his body and it gives him a sour taste in his mouth.

The thoughts in his mind flee from your pert chest and smooth stomach and instead he wonders what it is about his skin that you find so enticing. You run your fingertips over each ridged scar, finding the different colors of worn skin beneath the pads of your hands, showing them immense affection with just a gentle touch. His whole body shudders at the feel of you appreciating him with massaging motions and tracing, but he wants to ask you the questions he’s been begging silently for months, years even.

You are trying to form words, but the only thing coming from your mouth is spittle, drool seeping through the cracks of your lips until it coats your chin, cool beneath the air conditioning. Slowly your eyes roll forward so you can look into his darkened pupils, the middle of his irises resembling the darkest beauty marks that he has littered throughout his body. You smile at the sight of his intense irises seeking you out.

Midoriya laughs as the heel of his hand sops it up, smearing it back against your lips before cleaning his palm on the bed sheets. He leans forward, his cock sheathed fully within you as he grows closer to your face. Your palm reaches out to cup his jaw, the tips of your fingers finding the familiar pale lines of his skin to trace like it were a nervous tick.

“C’mon, now,” he kisses your nose, an innocent gesture in stark contrast to the intense motions he’s administering to your clit. “Tell Daddy.”

Your mouth splits wide open with the three words, a confession you know that he’s heard you utter before, but it does not come any less lascivious from your lips the more you beg, “One for All.”

He does not respond immediately, pupils dilated as he glances down at you. Your body squirms beneath his lack of movement, begging for some sort of friction on any part of you. The skin of your ass tingles as he presses you down firmer into the mattress, and you want to cry out but all you can blubber is those three words, again and again, as you plead for him to use his quirk on you.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you swear to him, nodding your head enthusiastically, “I want it so bad, Daddy, please, I want you to-”

Your begging is cut short by a sizzling in the air, the familiar popping of his quirk activating making your skin pebble with goosebumps. Your mouth runs dry at the sight of his skin lighting up with those familiar red lines, power coursing through his veins and making his hair stand on end.

Reaching up, you run your fingers through it, nails scraping at his scalp so you can feel the heat of his energy sparking against your fingertips. You arch your back upward to try and catch some of the wayward sparks, the salacious stinging of your skin only furthering the copious amount of slick between your thighs.

Deku tilts his head up to look you in the eyes, pupils shrunken down so his sea green irises can shine bright, glowing in the darkness of your bedroom. The entire room is aglow with his power, the very strength and resilience that has allowed him to build up so much intensity a conduit for your pleasure. His cock pulses against your thighs and you find yourself clenching around him, your body begging for him to stay close, too frightened at what might happen if he were to pull away.

“This what you wanted?”

His voice is deeper now, a rumbling timbre in his chest that makes your toes curl. You are panting at the expectancy of it all, sweat trickling down your temples and spine from the sudden change in temperature. The heat rises the longer he uses his quirk, so much so that you wonder if you could burn from it. The thought excites you, lights up your eyes until you cannot hold it in anymore.

You lean forward to kiss him on the mouth, slotting your lips between his. Pops of electricity stem from his entire body, sparking in midair before fizzling out with a gentle wash of ash. Deku licks at the seam of your lips, pressing his tongue between your teeth to map out every bump of your gums.

“Please,” you whimper against his tongue, “fuck me, hero.”

You have no more than spoken the words when his cock slips into your heat, coated with your arousal as quickly as he can rut forward. He grits his teeth to keep his composure, body trying to crumble between the use of his quirk and the feel of your tight cunt. You can’t help but notice the way he stretches you out even more so now than before, and you know that it’s in part to the fact that his girth has widened even further after he’s summoned his dormant power.

Deku reaches forward to press his glowing palm to your chest, rolling the bud of your breast between his fingertips as he starts to fuck into you. Your body is racked with effort, practically a ragdoll beneath him, all weak joints and jellied bones. And yet he is as powerful as ever between his mouth and his hands and his dick, every part of him built for your utmost undoing.

Lines of electricity fly from his body, bright green lightning strikes making the air pop all around you. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth when the first one stings your skin, lighting up the room in a flash of intense voltage. Izuku pauses, his hips stilling, “Baby?”

“Again,” you are panting, eyes half-closed as you revel in the pleasure from the shockwave. “Please.”

Deku has to focus on the electric side-effect of his quirk, closing his eyes so he can control the power radiating from his body. He starts to roll his hips into you slowly, once he feels settled with the coursing energy brought on by One for All.

You peel your lids back so you can watch as energy rushes through his frame, lighting up his body in such a way that reminds you of the pure power that he keeps hidden from the world most of the day. The light coursing just beneath his skin only serves to further draw out the beauty of his marred skin. His freckles are stars painted against the bright red and green patterns of electricity surging around his body like lightning bolts. You reach up to brush your thumbs against the apples of his cheeks, sucking in a breath at the sheer heat he’s radiating.

The reality that you have the very universe under your touch does not go unnoticed by you. You marvel at the constellations splayed out before you on his skin, giving you a small drop of the milky way right here in your home. It is overwhelming, the thought of it all dizzying as the heat thuds against the back of your eyes. And despite the boulder that sits on your shoulders at the burden of having to hold up his universe, you feel a jolt of exhilaration with the responsibility settling in your belly. You will be the one who he can crumble into when he’s tired of shining out for everyone else.

After all, a star can only be born after a nebula collapses.

Deku’s arms are strong around you as he holds you in place, cock sliding deep into your heated core, collecting your slick and his pre for easier lubrication, the thick vein on the underside of his shaft making you shiver as it drags against your walls. His biceps flex with the use of his quirk and the effort of holding you in midair to keep you snapped up into him and your hands are drawn to his bulging muscles all over again.

There is no doubt that he could keep you safe from any harm – one flick of his fingers, and a villain is rendered to a helpless annoyance.

The notion makes you shiver, reaching your hands up towards his shoulders, caressing his arms to feel the protruding cords of muscle rippling under the stress of his quirk. Your fingerprints find scars, puckered pink and marring his pretty tan skin. Other people might think that these markings make him weak, proving that he is fallible, mortal. But you think that every line on his body is a visible reminder that he has given so much to those who might not ever give it back. He has been beaten, bruised, and broken, and yet here he still stands, tall and proud in the face of danger.

Izuku knows that look in your eyes – wonder, awe, respect.

It swells his pride even further, his chest taut as he puffs himself up at the sight of you with adoration like stars in your irises. His thrusts are more intense now, guiding you closer to the cusp of pleasure, begging your body with the pulse of his cock to come undone.

“I-Izu, please.” You’re pushing your face into the pillow now, the burning hot pool building up steam in your belly becoming too much. He doesn’t even care that you’ve slipped up, not when he’s got you wrapped around him like a coil, working you from the inside out to drag the licentious sounds from your throat.

“Please what, Princess?” His hand sparks electricity around your chest, your nipple now pert with the fizzle of electricity as it creeps beneath your skin and into your veins. “Look at me, c’mon.”

He smacks the side of your breast, watching as the round flesh ripples under his ministrations. He breathes heavy, his chest inflating rapidly as his hips drill mercilessly into you. You clamp around him, quietly pleading with him to stay buried to the hilt so you.

When you don’t respond by turning your head, Midoriya grabs you by the cheeks, dominantly forcing your vision back to him. He’s almost regretful when you whimper, a shining trail of drool spilling from your mouth to pool into the pillowcase. The damp spot draws his attention and his cock twitches within your pussy, brushing up into your cervix and making you cry out, throat so hoarse that your voice cracks.

Izuku blinks hard, pulling his eyes away from the dark circle on the pillow to focus on your face, slipping his thumb into your mouth to press down on the center of your tongue. He smirks, his free hand holding you by the ass now, digging blunt nails into your flesh to create a conduit for his electricity to flow straight to your backside.

You whimper around his digit, the sound muffled by his finger, “G-Gonna come, Daddy.”

“Are you now?” he asks proudly, tilting his head to consider you. “Did I say you could come?”

You’re shaking your head as he grabs your ass harder, bringing tears to your eyes at the immense pressure combined with the raw feeling from his spankings earlier. As if to challenge you, Deku starts jutting forward, driving your hips deeper into the mattress until you feel like you might fall through.

The use of his quirk makes him so much stronger, his corded body trying to restrain from using its full power on you, despite calling all of it forward. He grits his teeth down so hard that you think you hear his jaw creaking, but you hardly have time to notice before you’re having to ward off your own pleasure. Using every ounce of One for All, Izuku bruises your cervix with the engorged head of his cock, the quirk enlarging every part of him.

You beg him with blurred words and hazy vision, whining and keening, until he’s leaning down close to your face, his hand now moved from your mouth to your throat, wet fingers wrapped around your neck.

“Good girl,” he murmurs with his nose against your cheek, lips dancing along your jawline to place feather light kisses, much in contrast to the otherwise bludgeoning intensity of the rest of his ministrations. “Such a pretty little thing.”

Your eyes find his face as he leans back to look down at you, the freckles dusted over his cheeks stark beneath his bright red streaks symbolizing the use of his quirk. You reach upward to tuck your palm against his cheek, cupping the skin burning hot with the coursing energy of his power. Your thumb brushes over the roundest part of his face and his eyes shudder closed at the feeling.

He kisses your wrist, bottoming out into your cunt with a harsh thrust forward. Deku turns his gaze to you, electric irises finding your soul through way of your pupils, “You gonna come when I tell you?”

“Yes, yes,” you’re practically foaming at the mouth, little spit bubbles at the corners of your lips at the thought of coming around his cock, your arousal mixed with his seed as he fills your core with his come. “Please, Daddy, I wanna come for you.”

Izuku nods, kissing your wrist again before falling back on his thick legs to grab you by the thighs, lifting you up off the mattress. It is just a display of his strength, his biceps bulging with effort, but it does what he intends for it to do when he feels your dripping arousal slipping from your slit down to drip onto the mattress.

“Fuck, look at your sloppy little pussy, Princess,” Deku moans at the sight of your silvery slick pouring out of you. He runs his thumb against the curve of your backside to catch what he can, running it over your clit before sucking his digit between his teeth.

Using his damp fingertip, Izuku begins to work at your clit, his other hand still pinning your thighs up in midair. He licks his lips at the sight of you on the cusp of pleasure, your body begging to come undone with the way your pussy clamps around his cock.

“C’mon, baby,” he coaxes you with a kind voice, electric pops crackling in the air like fireworks. “Come for me.”

You quit holding back, letting your body rush with a mix of adrenaline and pleasure. Every part of you is on fire, from his touch mixed with the searing heat of his body and the green lightning that strikes your body to leave tiny pink pucker marks. The sight of you marked up by his teeth and tongue and quirk bring him to his own heightened arousal, unable to hold back when he feels you gush with come from within the confine of your walls.

The glowing iridescent light making the room fluorescent fades into the dark with every spurt of his come into your cunt until he is no longer using One for All.

“Good girl,” he kisses your cheek, “now let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

You’re not sure what flips the switch within you – whether it’s the tight look of his uniform showing off the peaked buds of his nipples and the engorged head of his cock, or if it’s the blush on his freckled cheeks, making him look so much younger than the twenty plus years old he is now.

Whatever it is, it makes your mouth water and your fingertips buzz.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“B-But, the pad tha-”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Izuku’s thighs spasm at the authoritative tone of your voice and suddenly he feels about two inches tall despite towering over you no matter the situation. He tucks his head downward as he walks past you, down the hall towards the bedroom the two of you now share. Usually he is the one speaking those words as he stands over the top of you, his hand stinging red from spanking your ass as he orders you around, but the way they sound from your tone of voice makes his entire body quake.

The soft click of the door as it slips shut makes goosebumps rise on his skin, the stubbled hair on the back of his neck standing as upright as possible. There is a grunt from your mouth and a shuffling of your feet on the carpet as you kick off your shoes.

“B-Baby, I-”

Somehow you have shoved your foot into the crook of his knee, toppling him over onto the bed so he’s face first into the mattress, his ass perked upward as he tries to balance himself so he does not fall over. The globes of his backside are stretched tight within the spandex of his uniform, and you know the beautiful expanses of freckled skin that lay beneath the material.

Izuku looks over his shoulder, attempting to protest or ask you what is wrong, but you don’t want to hear it, so you lean forward and press your palm against his cheek, “You don’t speak unless spoken to, do you understand?”

He’s whimpering under your harsh touch, but the way his pupils dilate tells you that he’s enjoying it at least enough to test it out. You shove yourself backward, centered between his ass cheeks as your knees dig into the edge of the mattress. The tips of your fingernails run over the plush flesh of his backside, digging in to make him gasp and writhe beneath you.

Your heart hammers in your chest at seeing the up and coming Pro Hero wriggling like a frightened animal under your ministrations, and you’ve barely laid a hand on him yet. You run your knuckle up his spine, “Take your top off.”

The way he balances his head on the mattress and grapples with his shirt in an attempt to take it off is almost comical, so you crack a smile, thankful that he can’t see you. You lick your lips and drag your hand back down his back to rest at the base of his spine as he scrambles to take the shirt off, but he’s too flustered and it ends up bunched up around his neck and shoulders.

Finally, he gets so frustrated that he rips the fabric in half, shreds of thread falling against his skin and the sheets. You feel heat flood to your core, your spine white hot within your body, the tingles of heat spreading from the center of you outward until your fingertips and toes are blazing with fire.

You hum in appreciation at the sight of his rippling shoulders and trap muscles, his body shifting to dip back into the mattress, balancing all of his weight on his forearms as he leans forward. Your touch drifts from his shoulders to his obliques, the bumps of muscle corded beneath your digits. You watch as his body ripples with a shiver, every one of his muscles tensing as your fingers pad over his freckles, finding patches of darker skin to administer affection to.

It must be the pure anticipation that has his frame tense and quivering, the smallest of muscles twitching as you work your hands around his body. You settle your palms at his hips, flattening your hand against the expanse of skin at the center of his torso, “Baby, relax.”

You lean forward and kiss the dense smattering of freckles between his shoulder blades, “Now be a good little hero and take off your pants.”

The way you say it sends another wave of pleasure straight to his cock, the already throbbing organ about ready to bust from arousal and you haven’t even disrobed him yet.

Your feet pad against the carpet as you find your way to the edge of the bed, stripping out of your outerwear until you’re left in only a dark lace set, the filigree bringing out the beauty of your skin. Izuku goes dumb at the sight, turning his head just enough to get an eyeful of your chest area. His eyes about bug out of his head, wide and blown with lust as his tongue lolls over his lips, dripping a silvery string of drool onto the bed sheets.

“C’mon, Deku,” you force the word to come out in a patronizing tone, “strip for me.”

He swallows, his throat bobbing, but somehow manages to push through the aroused haze clouding his judgment to wriggle himself out of his tight-fitting hero suit. The bright green fabric is left in a pool on the floor, tattered clothes just the start of your destruction.

The head of his cock is bright red and there is a part of you that falters, wanting to beg him to take control and absolutely demolish your pussy with his harsh, controlling movements and his filthy mouth. It lasts but a moment, and yet he can still see it. There is a shift in his eyes, the way he considers you, and he leans forward to say something, but you’re grabbing him by the face, cheeks between your fingers, before he can speak.

“Roll over.”

Izuku does as told with little hesitation, flopping his shoulders around so his ass is once again in the air, primes and ready for your palm to lavish with spankings. Your breath shudders from your lungs and you lock your thighs in place by tensing them, centering yourself between his knees. The balls of his heels come into contact with your hips as he sways slightly, his mind dizzy from the promise of pleasure.

“How many?” you ask, your voice low and sultry, surprising even you with the depth of it.

A choking noise can be heard, but it’s muffled by the pillow. You chuckle, patting his ass prospectively, feeling the flesh ripple beneath your complacent prodding. Dipping forward, your chest falls flush with his back as you press feathery kisses over his midsection, finding the freckles like little gold pieces, adding each one to your treasure chest as you kiss it.

Izuku manages to spit out a number, something reasonable, and so you add a few more on top of it in your mind, smirking even though he cannot see you. You run the pads of your fingers down from the tops of his shoulders to the globes of his ass, the perky, round muscles making your stomach flip. You can’t wait to see the way his bruised ass mixed with the dark brown freckles of his skin – how beautiful the colors will be, how it might actually look more like a galaxy with shades of purple and blue as an accent to the brunette freckles dotting his skin like the night sky currently.

You reach your hands back and start to lay into him, counting the spankings in your head without keeping track of them aloud. You stop after you’re satisfied with his whimpering cries, his face buried deeper into the pillow with each endearing smack.

An errant thought crosses your mind and you can’t help but to dwell on it. If Izuku is already blubbering, how much farther can you take this before he’s crying into the pillow? The idea that you can bring one of the strongest men in the world to tears sets off a string of dynamite in your heart, the fuse triggering something akin to pride in your chest. You feel your whole body swell at the thought and you know that you must make it a reality tonight.

“How many was that?” you ask patronizingly, digging your nails into his ass to hear him squeak.

Your hands are already raw, burning at the feel of slapping his muscled backside repeatedly. Still, you knead your hands into him to elicit a pained whine. He writhes under you, his hands curling around the sheets until they’re beginning to rip under his tight grip.

“I-I dunno,” he blurts, a curt sob breaking his words. “I’m sorry!”

You chuckle and it comes out much darker than you originally intended. You release his ass, the thick of it jiggling as you let go. The pads of your fingers are gentle as you wash your touch over him, appreciating the way the redness of his freshly spanked cheeks brings out the deep color of his freckles, the splotches even more prevalent now that his body has been momentarily abused.

“Oh, you’re gonna be sorry, baby,” you kiss each of his ass cheeks, flicking your tongue out to tease the heated skin, “you better start counting.”

Just as you punctuate your sentence with a sigh, your hands begin to strike him repeatedly. You struggle to keep count, desperately wanting to listen to his moans and whimpers as he gasps, mewling with both pain and pleasure as you lay into his backside. Midoriya is already misty-eyed, the feel of your domineering touch just enough to bring him to a subservient headspace, his spirit wallowing in the pain that your hands are doling out.

You barely have time to stop before he’s blurting out the number that matches the one you’ve counted. You smirk, leaning forward so your nipples scrape against his skin, “Good job, baby.”

The heels of your palms are what is stinging the most, so you can only imagine how his ass feels. You have a momentary relapse in thought, wondering if maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, if maybe you’re going to push him to an edge he can’t come back from.

Although, when too much silence has passed and he is turning to gaze up at you over his shoulder, every inhibition you have flies directly out of the room through the crack in the door. His eyes are blitzed, lust making his pupils swallow the color of his irises, forehead crinkled in desperation as he attempts to form words to beg you back to him.

You rub at the pert skin, brushing your thumbs over the smattering of freckles on the roundest parts of his ass. Deku is whimpering beneath you, calf muscles fully flexed as he rocks back and forth in anticipation of your next slap.

“Such a good little hero,” you murmur, massaging your hands into his glute muscles. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

Izuku whines, toes curling up beside your hips. He huffs but you can’t see his face to notice how fucked-out his eyes have become. You dig your fingernails into the flesh of his ass, and he preens, eyes bulging out of their sockets at the sudden stinging sensation.

You answer him with a resounding smack on his backside, making sure that your fingertips are curved just right, along with your palm, to make it sound much worse than it truly is, praying that you can manipulate his mind into believing that you’ve marked him for longer than a few moments.

The way the freckles on his skin trail from the top of his body to the bottom is nothing short of enticing. It brings about a certain innocence to him, something hidden that only you are allowed to know of. Your eyes can’t stop trying to put together a map of his body, begging to know just where the freckles begin and end. He is littered with them, his body darkening from time spent in the sun.

“P-Please,” his whole body is convulsing in pleasure. You can see his cock throbbing between his thighs and the mattress, his balls weighty with the impending excitement of his release. The bedsheet have a damp spot near the tip of his cock, most likely from his pre dripping at the sudden shakes of his body from your spankings, “I-I want more, Princess. Please!”

You smirk, hand hot from repeated spankings, “What’s your number?”

Deku pants, digging his nose into the mattress as if that might save him from having to answer. His hands are clamped around the sheets, nails threatening to rip into the thread count mercilessly, “I-I dunno, I don’t know!”

Your hand comes down over his ass repeatedly, unrelenting in your ministrations as you mark his backside bright red. You know that there will be little busted blood vessels to mix along with his freckled skin, purple lightning strikes that serve as a reminder to the way you broke down his resolve and conquered his body.

“P-Princess,” he whines, voice cracking in the midst of his sentence as he tries to beg for repentance, “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

You curve your fingernails into his skin, uncaring to the way his body fully tenses, dips and curves of muscle and sinew on full display as he lays completely bare against the mattress. You want to strew yourself across him to feel the ripples of his muscles as he tenses under your touch, to know the reactions of his body as they are happening firsthand. A chill tremors down your spine at the thought of him, all dense and thick beneath you, and how you have complete and utter control over him. You hold his pleasure in your hands, he’s entrusted himself to you in this very vulnerable situation, and the reality of it almost brings tears to your eyes.

Instead you focus your energy into snarling around your teeth, sneering his name like slander, “C’mon, Deku, be a good little bitch and tell me what you think you can handle.”

He is verbally silent, the only thing you can make out from his face smushed into the sheets is mewling whimpers to match the way his body quivers. You teasingly stroke your thumbnail over the blushed skin of his backside, bouncing your touch from freckle-to-freckle as you scrape your nails into him.

Another couple of seconds pass by before you snatch your hand from his ass so you can slap him again when he spurts out an answer, “Th-Thirty!”

“Fifty it is,” you chuff, digging your fingertips into his buttocks in a massaging motion, preparing him for the next round of spankings. He pants, rutting his hips forward into the mattress for some sort of friction against his throbbing erection, balls weighty with his release as they slap between his legs.

You tap his hip, letting him know that you want him to readjust himself. Izuku bends at the waist, seething as the bruised skin of his bottom stretches with the motion. You resituate yourself between his knees, ass directly in front of your face. A gentle kiss is pressed to either of his cheeks, eyelashes daintily brushing over his throbbing flesh, and he jolts his hips back into you until your teeth graze his skin.

“Eager little thing,” you tut your tongue, grabbing him harshly by the hips.

You selfishly want to mark him up, to remind the world that he belongs to you no matter how much of himself he gives away every other moment of his life. When the sun goes down, when the bright sky bleeds into the night, he comes home to you and the both of you fall asleep under the stars, wrapped in one another’s arms.

Izuku’s tongue lolls out of his mouth, sweat dripping down his spine as you press up into him, “Such a slut for me, huh, honey?”

The next time he backs into you, you pinch his ass between your fingers on one side and on the other cheek you bite down hard into his skin. Midoriya bucks forward at the sudden jolt of pain, only worsening the scratches left behind by your canines. He grinds his face into the mattress, pressing the mix of his tears and sweat into the sheets, begging for a cool release from the heat of his body as he searches for it in the mattress. You swear that he sobs into the pillow, begging you for something, but you can’t quite make out all of the syllables.

You line up behind him, your lower abdomen flush with his round, freckled bottom, “You ready, baby?”

“Princess, please,” his voice is hoarse now, all jagged around the edges as he begs you for more, “I-I want you to be rough with me, please? I wan’ you to mark me up.”

On command, your fingernails dig into the flesh at the curves of his shoulders, raking down the length of his back in one elongated swoop. He cries out, throwing his head back so his green curls brush the piques of his shoulders, and he grinds his hips back into you. You can’t help the low growl that claws at your throat as you trail your index finger down over the ghostly sight that your nails have left behind. He seethes through his teeth at the burning sensation lighting his back on fire, but he still does not complain.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you handled, okay?” Your hands find purchase on the curves of his obliques, fingernails burrowing into the taut skin of his abdomen, crescent moon patterns left in the wake of you. “I’m gonna make sure all the other heroes know who you belong to.”

Your name bubbles from his lips, a prayer he’s pushing to the heavens, blessing the stars with his babbling. In the midst of one of his mutterings, you begin your next round of pert spanks to his ass. You give him little reprieve, counting in your head as you go along.

He’s a blubbering mess, all mismatched syllables and grunts and moans tearing his throat apart until he’s crying for you to mark him as yours, to claim him in a way that leaves no question as to who he belongs to. The echoes of please, please, please bounce off every wall, a cacophony of sound making the hair on your neck stand erect.

When you finish, your hands are stinging profusely, but you make sure to soothe your palms over his bottom, the flesh bright red and angry. His freckles look even darker now that his skin has been accented with the beginnings of purple bruises and crimson handprints left behind. You coo, leaning forward to kiss the center of his back, pressing your body into him so you’re flush with every inch of him that you can find, “What do you say, pretty boy?”

When Midoriya turns to look at you over his shoulder, his eyes blissed-out so his pupils swallow his viridescent irises whole, he gargles the words, “thank you,” in a cracked whisper. You nod, trailing a row over kisses down the dip of his spine, nudging your nose over his muscled body, silently telling him to relax.

“You want more?” you ask him quietly, your hands digging into any surface of him that you can find to try and release some of the tension built up from the time spent together. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Please, Princess, please,” he’s blubbering out the words, thick and heavy with the emotion pent-up in his throat, “I just wan’ be good for you, whatever you want.”

You tilt your head, brows furrowing in playful contemplation, “Whatever I want, huh?”

He’s nodding ferociously, his chin knocking into his chest with his enthusiastic actions. You know part of it is to make up for the lack of words that he can’t force through his teeth, so you merely chuckle and give him one final spank to his backside, “Roll over then.”

The speed with which he fumbles into rolling over onto his back is comical. You watch as a flurry of limbs wind together only to come apart again when he’s on his back. Izuku is wincing, the glassiness in his eyes reminiscent of tears and he’s trying his hardest to come across like he’s not in pain, although you see the way that he favors putting more of his weight on his shoulders instead of his ass so he’s bent at an odd angle.

“Whatever you want,” he is gasping the words out, puffs of exaggerated but necessary breath forcing his cheeks to inflate. “I’m yours.”

The words make your whole body puff up, heat starting in your core and creating steam that rises from your esophagus to your brain. It becomes muddled and you’re hazy now, drunk off of the power that he has given you with those five words. You reach forward and slide your thumb against his piqued nipple, licking your lips as you think of what you’re going to do to him not that you have him to use however you please.

“All mine?” you ask, your voice grating against the front of your throat harshly. You hum, “What do you want me to do to you then, baby?”

He’s breathing heavily through his nose now, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath, “I w-want you to use me, please, Princess, want you to use my pathetic cock to make yourself feel good.”

You reach forward and guide his scarred hand towards your cunt, “Touch me.”

Izuku is eager to please, so he’s fumbling forward until his thumb finds your clit, ministrations errant and disastrous. It’s adorable, really, the enthusiasm with which he seeks you out only doing further service to your ego. You feel your head grow dizzier as your core turns with tumultuous heat. You know that you do not want to drag this out too far as you already can feel the twitch of an impending crest of pleasure building from within you.

His thick finger slides up into your heated core and it takes all of your self-restraint to keep your moans between your teeth, holding the sounds captive like they might tell all of your secrets if you let them loose. You bite your lip, sucking the skin into the bite of your teeth, tilting your head back so you can close your eyes and enjoy the pleasure as it comes.

“Maybe if you touch me just right, I’ll let you feel my pussy on your cock, huh?” You have to face him, have to see his reaction, “How does that sound?”

Midoriya is bobbing his head, agreeing to whatever words you’re speaking, he can’t quite make out any one syllable with the way his brain is drowning with the sight of you straddling him. He’s not sure what it is about you, but he absolutely adores the idea of you holding your own against him, wrapping your body around him and denying him of whatever control he normally possesses.

And maybe that is what gets you wet too, because you know that he could fling you off of him with a simple flick of his wrist, and yet here he is, letting you demolish every last shred of his self-respect.

You can’t help it, with the way he’s already beginning to drool and the sight of his eyes drinking in your semi-naked body, you have to feel the soft heat of his mouth around your fingers. It is too quick, the way you jolt forward and press the pads of your digits against his soft mouth. He moans, realizing just what you’re trying to do because he’s done it countless times himself, and opens his mouth wide.

Your fingers slip inside the seeping heat of his tongue and cheeks, the muscle lapping at your digits until they’re soaked and knuckle deep. You lean down so you are but inches from his face, the squelching sounds that your pussy and his mouth make together doing little to still the erection pressed against your ass from behind and the absolute waterfall between your thighs.

Every muscle in your body is screaming at you to sink down on top of his twitching cock and let him have his way with you, to rock yourself along his length until you’re both finding that beautiful high together. But you know that if you wait, if you drag this out and force him to bend to your will, then it will bring you both to your knees.

“So pretty with my fingers in your mouth, Izu,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He attempts feebly to kiss you, turning his head, but your fingers catch on the corners of his lips and stretch the pink skin until it is pale. Your eyes flicker toward the bow of his mouth where a thin, white scar resides. You remember seeing this one when you first kissed him, and the memory of it makes you nostalgic, the years you’ve spent together built up much like his scars.

You lick a warm stripe up the column of his neck, feeling the muscles and veins throb underneath your ministrations. The heat of your breath combined with the slick of your spit makes Deku’s hips jut upward, his balls slapping loudly against your ass as he ruts into you painfully.

“Did I say you could move?” You are leant back now, your fingers still in his mouth but otherwise you are parted from him. Deku’s face pales, eyes widening in fear as he shakes his head, apologies tumbling in tandem with his spit from his lips, drool seeping down his chin until it is shiny.

The heel of your palm comes underneath his chin, so you have your hand wrapped around the lower part of his mouth, controlling his head with the simple turn of your wrist. You tilt his head upward so he can no longer see you, and pick up your hips to reposition yourself so you are hovering above him, just enough so you can start to tease the head of his cock against your slick slit.

He’s whimpering, “Please, Princess. I wanna touch you so bad, please, I wanna make you feel good.”

You let him beg for you, pumping your hand up and down his cock while you brush the angry red head over the gathering silver slick at your entrance.  You chuckle as his hips shuffle in the slightest, his discomfort obvious as he is practically vibrating with the desire to take over.

“What is it, baby? Eager?” You sink yourself down far enough to take the head of his cock within your walls, clamping down hard enough to make him whine. “I can’t wait to fuck myself on this pathetic little cock, Izu. I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll have to call in sick tomorrow.”

Another round of blathering drivel is boasted into the air, his words muffled by your fingers, but he still forces them out, nonetheless. His tongue continues to curl around your knuckles and lavish the pads of your digits, sucking on them in between heaving breaths. You let a small moan shake your throat, rolling your hips forward to take another bit of his dick but not all of it, not yet. The enjoyment you’re getting from his stuttering whimpers and moans only heightening your senses and arousal.

“Princess, please, I-I think I’m gonna-” An aborted rut of his hips dies when you rake your nails down the entirety of his chest. Your fingers catch on the rigid edges of some of his scars, but otherwise you turn lines of his tanned flesh red from your scratching.

Izuku whimpers, his body arching upward as he tries to take it all in stride. In doing so, he sheathes his cock completely within you, the base of his shaft now flush with your lips. You cry out at the sudden stretch, throwing your head back in pleasure as a wave of white-hot arousal makes your thighs glossy with a new wash of slick.

When you come to, you lean forward to place a palm on either side of his head, holding yourself up so you are loitering over him like a shadow, praying that you are as every bit as menacing as you’re attempting to be. You grit your teeth and roll your hips several times, unbending to even his hands on your body, relentlessly fucking his cock until he’s screaming for you to stop.

“C’mon, little hero, I thought you’d be better than this,” you take his earlobe between your teeth and tug, “I thought you’d have more will power. You’ll never be number one if you can’t even last this long beneath me.”

Izuku shakes his head, “I-I can, I can do it, I-I promise. Please, just let-”

“I don’t think you understand,” your voice is low, menacing as you nudge your nose against the bridge of his face, nuzzling the freckled skin. The intimate act is far more tender than your tone, and it gives Izuku chills that you can display such dual sides of yourself simultaneously. “I’m not letting you do anything.”

His eyes go wide as he realizes that there is nothing that he can do to change your mind, at least not in this setting. Deku’s hands still on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circular motions into your skin in a way that seems to be grounding him as much as it is stimulating you. You press a chaste kiss to his mouth before beginning to snap your hips upward and then back down onto his cock, clamping your walls around him when you feel the head of him press into that spongy spot hidden all the way in the back of your core.

You kiss all over his neck, finding clumps of freckles and stranded singular ones, lavishing the same amount of affection over each of them. Your mouth finds scars, both tiny, hairline fractures in the marble of his skin, as well as large, patchy ones that mar large splotches of his skin.

Even in these moments when you are the one doling out commands, you still find ways to appreciate his body. Your touch roams along the dips and contours of his torso, the rough ridges of your fingerprints searching for the matching ragged lines on his skin. You sigh into his throat and he slips a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, begging for you to come undone around his cock, praying that you’ll let him please you.

One of your hands wraps around his throat until you hear him choke, and then you speed up the pace of your hips until he’s begging through wheezes for you to relent. You lean back and he hikes up his legs so you can rest against his thighs, your body on full display in front of him. His eyes do not know where to land and neither do yours as you map out the various textures and colors of his skin – from the pale lightning strikes of his scars to the darker scattered splotches of freckles.

Izuku Midoriya is a vessel for the travesties of the world.

But you will spend the rest of your life trying to make up for its mistakes.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

One day it slips.

You don’t think much of it, because in the heat of the moment, with him buried at the hilt and you crying for release, the words don’t stick out very starkly against the other filth spewing from either of your mouths.

“Gonna stuff that pretty pussy full of my come, baby,” he bites your earlobe as he ruts into you mercilessly, “You’re gonna be so round and full of me.”

At the time, you thought he meant that you would be full of his cock and come, but after he starts to show particular attention to your stomach during sex, you wonder if there’s something else going on.

When he has you beneath him the next time, you drag his palm to your belly and look him in the eyes, “I want you.”

His freckles burn beneath his blush, much starker against his tanned skin thanks to the flush of warmth. Izuku tilts his head, the dark curls framing his forehead bobbing with the motion, “You have me, baby.”

You shake your head and whine at the lack of contact once he’s stilled. You bite your lip and push the heel of his palm into the gentle swell of your belly beneath your navel. He swallows, gulping so hard that his throat bobs. You lick your lips and take a short breath as he shifts above you, his knees digging into the mattress on either side of your body.

“I want you to come in me,” you murmur, tugging him downward with the gentle grip of your hand on his neck. You kiss him square on the mouth and his fingers reach to find your folds, middle and index finger parting you so they can slip inside to curl against your heat. You whine, the sound amplified as his tongue searches your teeth, “P-Please, Izu.”

Midoriya’s fingers thrust forward in you so intensely that he can feel his fingertips bulging your belly with the palm that’s pressed against your navel. His eyes widen at the sensation and it only spurs him into kissing you more fervently, teeth and tongue clashing as he tries to overwhelm every sense you possess.

You protest as he pulls his fingers from you, your eyes screwed shut as you whine. He tuts his tongue against his teeth, nudging his nose along the curve of your jaw as he places biting kisses along the bone, “Hush. Do you really think I won’t give you what you need?”

The authoritative tone in his voice brings you to silence, eyelids fluttering open so you can look him in the eyes as he leans back to balance himself on his thick thighs. Your touch is pulled from him as he goes further away, your fingers aching in midair for something to ground yourself with. Otherwise you just feel like you’re going to float away, your mind hazy with the effervescent bubbles of euphoria that travel up from your throat.

Before you have another moment to keen at the loss of his heat, he’s piercing your pussy with the head of his cock, butterflying your lips wide open so he can rut up into you with ease. The combination of his bubbling pre-come and your already slick arousal dripping from your cunt make the slam of his hips easier to take, easier to beg for.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Izuku coos in your ear, dropping his head to your shoulder to suck on the skin of your collarbone.

The jut of his cockhead into your core makes it difficult to think, let alone form fully coherent sentences. Izuku seems to relish in this, though, because he does not slow the drag of his cock or the flow of his words. He continues to goad you into begging for his release, for what you truly want, and it’s maddening. Your eyes cross beneath your lids at the overstimulation of it all until you’re blurting out the first thing on your mind.

“I wan’ you to breed me, Daddy!”

Izuku falters for a moment at the brashness of your words, but you barely have time to feel bashful before he’s rolling his hips again, growling near your ear with a ferocity you’ve never felt from him before.

“That’s my good girl,” he mutters while trailing his lips down to your breast. He lavishes your nipple with the rough pad of his tongue, lapping over the skin carefully so you’re begging him for more. “How am I supposed to breed you, honey? Tell me.”

The patronizing tone of his voice tells you that he knows exactly what you want, but he would rather hear the request coming in the form of panting words and wanton moans from your lips. You sniffle, your eyes watering at the bruising pace he’s setting. His hands drift down the tops of your thighs, thumbs brushing against the innermost part where your skin is the most sensitive. Your cunt clamps down around him, fluttering at the ghostly feel of his tantalizing touch.

“P-Please,” you whimper, unable to think of something to say to fill the void. You bite your lip as his mouth works at your chest, tonguing your nipple before biting at the mound of skin to drive a yelp from your lips. “I want you to c-come in me, Daddy! I want you to stuff me full o-of your come, please!”

He pouts around your nipple, leaving the small space he’s just sucked a hickey into in favor of your pert bud, “I already come in you, baby girl, what do you really want me to do?”

You bite your lip and fist the sheets at your sides when you feel frustration and embarrassment wash over you. Izuku nudges his nose along the swell of your chest before leaning up to kiss your chin, hovering like a menacing shadow. His smile does little to quell the bubbling intensity in your belly.

“You can do it, sweetheart,” he’s gentler now, breaking his more dominating side so he can reassure you, “I know you can. Just tell me what you want.”

The shining in his irises makes your knees weak but bolsters your spine to force you into uttering the next words, no matter how uncomfortable they might sit in your belly. You take a breath and look up into his eyes, “I want you to put a baby in me, Izu.”

“Good girl,” he manages to muster out the words with restraining the growl that aches at the back of his throat.

His hips cant forward, fingertips now just under your knees. Your breath comes in shaking pants, your chest shuddering under your confession. Izuku kisses your cheek and then your nose, positioning his hands while he has you distracted. His mouth ascends down upon your own as his fingers dip into the supple skin and muscle of your thighs, bruising the underside with the ghost of his fingerprints as he pushes your knees back until they’re almost touching your chest or the mattress.

You gulp in pain as his cock stretches you out in a whole new way with your body flayed out like this. You look like a butterfly, your wings spread so he can smother you with his movements. Deku licks at the seam of your lips and you gasp, your mouth parting so he can delve his tongue inside. Your whole body shakes at the intensity of his thrusts, your irises swallowed whole by your pupils as they dilate at the feel of your cunt trying and failing to clamp around his cock to keep him still so you can adjust.

“Say it again,” Deku encourages you, his voice breathless as he ruts you into the mattress.

Your shoulders and the curve of your ass are pressed so deep into the cushion that you swear you might fall through to the floor. You curl your toes and try to angle your hips forward to no avail. He has you fully enraptured in the way he wants, his body practically controlling the movements you’re allowed to make with how he’s pressed and holding onto every part of you.

“I-I want you to put a baby in me, Izuku,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

A pert slap lands on the outside of your thigh and you whimper at the thought you’ve done something wrong. Your eyes water and you look up at him, emerald irises glowering down at you with a mix of primal need and control.

His voice is nothing short of a growl when he commands, “Who am I?”

Your eyes go wide, forehead creasing at the realization of your slip up. You can’t form the words fast enough, scrambling within your subservient brain to find the right phrase. You bite your lip as his hips still upon your silence, practically begging him with your body to keep going.

The echo of another smacking of his palm against your leg resounds in the room, sending a shudder down your spine. A new wave of arousal coats his cock from where he’s buried within you. He smirks, “Such a sloppy pussy, baby girl. You’re so filthy, getting off on me smacking you around.”

He leans close into you, removing one hand from your thigh to frame your face, his thumb dug into the soft flesh beneath your chin so he can force you to look into his eyes. “Now, I’ll say it again, who am I?”

You gulp, your lower lip trembling at the sight of him, and your voice cracks when you speak, “D-Daddy, I-I’m sorry.”

Izuku kisses your bottom lip before showing the same affection to the top. His gentle ministrations are rather contrasting to the way your hips sting with the memory of his spankings. You blink slowly, taking him in from this close angle.

He’s so pretty, you know this even though your mind is hazy with subservient want. His freckles and scars stand out so pertly against his skin, showing you a roadmap to someplace you know you’ll get to someday. You reach up to frame his face with one hand, thumb brushing over the speckled spots along the bridge of his nose and cheek, marveling at the sight of his beauty.

Deku turns his face to kiss your wrist, “What’re you thinking?”

“You’re pretty,” you blurt, voice almost childish in the way you say it with such wonder.

The phrase stills his nose against your palm, his breath hot as it rolls down your wrist and forearm. You feel your pulse beat harshly within your veins at the change in temperature, emotion swelling in your throat until your neck bobs as you try to swallow it.

It’s not the stereotypical compliment that he might receive, however that does not change its weight. Izuku takes a short breath before he begins to kiss down the length of your arm, nuzzling your elbow once he’s pressed there. He looks up into your eyes and the absolute adoration that is settled into your irises, bejeweling them until he is wondering if they might actually be gems, gives him the effervescent sensation all over again.

Pretty.

The word plays on loop in his mind, until he has dissected all six letters of it down to their very essence. The combination of your tone and expression as you admit what’s truly on your mind causes his heart to tear into his rib cage with the speed at which it beats. He breathes in short, heaving gasps, the warmth of his breath spilling over your chest, nipples pebbling beneath him.

If you were to try and pin down his appearance, you might say it were bashful. You have seen several sides to Izuku, but the bright red tinge on his cheeks, creeping up his neck until his ears are burnt with the color, makes him seem much younger, much more innocent. It’s hardly innocent, the way that he’s bludgeoning your cunt with his cock, but you take this moment to remove yourself from that fact entirely, instead focusing on the wobble of his chin and the mist in his eyes.

In addition to the shyness, you also see doubt, conflict.

You push your fingers into the hair behind his ear, beckoning him closer so you can appreciate him closer. Your opposite hand presses against his cheek, the scar that runs along his jaw ragged under your touch. Midoriya’s lips part, the tip of his tongue hidden just behind his teeth.

“Pretty,” he echoes the word, unintentionally, you believe, by the way his face screws up once he realizes he’s said it aloud. Midoriya reels back from you, sitting back on his thighs, the tip of his cock twitching from within your core.

Your face goes bright red at the admission, your hand falling away from his face in shame. You gulp, readying yourself for another smack to your leg in admonishment at your confession. You wince, hiding yourself as best you can with him looking down at you in such an intimidating way by turning your face into the pillow, closing your eyes.

The wait feels like forever, as if he’s going to edge you with anticipation until you’ve gone blue in the face from holding your own breath. He surprises you with a gentle laugh parting his lips, screwing his eyes shut.

You take a chance and open your eyes, blinking slowly so you aren’t shocked at the expression on his face if it contrasts the giggle that sets off another round of arousal between your thighs. You lick your lips and bare your soul when you ask, “Y-You’re laughing?”

“You’re so cute, baby,” Izuku kisses your nose, his grip resetting to your thigh.

The bruising hold he has on you reminds you that even though he might come across as twinkling eyes and a mop of curls, he is the strongest hero alive, and he could crush you like a bug if he truly desired.

He tilts his head, “I think you’re pretty too.”

“Y-You’re not mad?”

Izuku furrows his brow and leans back so he can study your face in its entirety, “No, Princess, I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

“I-I just ruined the mood by calling you pretty,” you have the urge to ask him to put his fingers in your mouth just to get you to be quiet. Anything to staunch the flow of these ­superfluous words that won’t stop tumbling from your lips.

His thumb brushes along the curve of your jaw until his fingertip is pressuring your lip to stay open so he can study your teeth and gums, “Nah, you didn’t ruin the mood. Answer me this – who do you belong to?”

Instantly your thighs try to clamp together, knees wobbling at the statement and the firmness in his tone when he says it. You swallow, eyes blown wide, your tongue suddenly becoming very heavy in your own mouth. You want to whine, to cant forward and take as much of him as you can but he has you held still with a palm in the center of your chest, pinning you to the mattress as he waits for his answer.

Your hand covers his own, fingers slipping between his palm and knuckles so you can anchor yourself to him, even in this moment. Your middle and index fingers swipe back and forth over the back of his hand, finding the familiar triangular scars and tracing over them with purpose. They ground you, somehow, when your mind starts to flutter off into this subservient space and you can’t feel anything from your knees down.

“Y-You,” you manage to stutter, thighs wobbling with the stress of pinning him between your knees. Your eyelids prick with tears from the embarrassment you felt earlier, and Izuku tuts his tongue against his teeth, “Why’re you crying, pretty girl?”

You shake your head and he kneels forward to kiss you on the lips, chastely, “Or should I give you something to cry about?”

Before you can answer, he simultaneously lands a harsh slap to the inside of your thigh with one hand while pinning your neck to the pillow with the other, applying enough pressure that you wheeze. Izuku smirks down at you, watching as tears well up in your eyes and cause them to look like glassy marbles. He trails his fingertip along the inside of your thigh, your entire body quivering with the anticipation of when he will strike next.

His cock twitches within you and the movement makes your muscles jolt. Your hand smacks against his thigh as you dig your fingertips into the dense sinew. You breathe in heavily, your chest expanding, “Daddy, please.”

Izuku begins to rock back and forth slowly, dragging his cock salaciously along your inner walls, the veins and curves of his cock making your cunt flutter around his girth. You whine at the slow pace, your palms studying his skin as a distraction to keep your dirty mouth satiated. You want to beg him to go faster, to give you more friction, something, but you know better than to ask him for anything in this moment.

“If I’m Daddy,” he muses in your ear, his breath a hot wave of desire as it rolls down your neck to splay out at your shoulder, “then it’s only fair that we give you a name too, right, Princess?”

The suggestion he’s making sends a shiver down your spine and you clamp down on his cock as he slips all the way into you, the base of him flush with your lips. You grapple onto him for fear that he might pull out of you again, but you want him to be fully sheathed in you when he snarls out his next words.

In digging your nails into his skin, you find a new scar on his shoulder that you hadn’t noticed before. It is thin, just slight enough that it slipped from your radar. It is a single ridge of skin running from the back of his shoulder to his collarbone, streaking his skin with a pink color in contrast to his normally tan color. Your middle and index fingers focus on it, mapping out each bump like your life depends on it.

As his body tilts forward, your eyes catch along a patch of intense freckles at the tops of his shoulders, where the sun shines most concentrated. Your exhale, eyelids fluttering as you feel his weight press down into you the closer he comes. The palm of your hand travels to this smattering of freckles, digging into his muscles in a massaging way as you force your touch downward. Izuku’s breath hitches as you circle the pad of your middle finger tenderly over the flesh, eyelids snapping open so he can look down at you in something akin to shock.

He melts into your touch when your ankle digs into the dimples at the base of his back, yet another scar providing friction against your skin. You whimper as his hips buck forward on instinct alone, the pressure of your body pulling him forward.

Midoriya nudges his nose sweetly along the column of your throat, open-mouthed kisses placed against your main vein that leads him to your heart. He breathes slowly over your chest, nipping at the skin closest to your nipple, but far enough away that he won’t hurt you if he bites down too hard.

“Mm,” he hums as he dips his head further, curling his spine so he can kiss the top of your belly, above your navel. His palm pushes into the supple skin, thumb drifting over where your uterus sits beneath your skin, “I can’t wait to fuck you ‘till you’re full of me, Princess. Isn’t that what you want?”

You’re begging him silently with ferocious nods, dipping the pads of your fingers into his shoulder blades to pull him closer once more so he can rut into you with his strong hips. You feel the head of his cock brush against you from the inside, and that along with the added pressure of his palm pushing into you, makes you keen loudly, a whine rippling through your lungs.

At that sound, Izuku loses any and all control he might have had on his body before, one of his hands now holding your thigh up so he can dominate you from above, your ass not even flat against the mattress anymore. It’s a good reprieve from the suffocating heat beneath your back, but the only thing you can truly focus on is the way that his hips drive into you in midair, his knees bolstering him forward to fuck into you relentlessly.

“You’ll be so fuckin’ pretty with my come dripping out of this sloppy pussy,” Izuku’s voice is slurred with pleasure, his eyes closed as he ruts into you from above. You whine, your chin ducked into your chest at this angle, but it doesn’t matter that it’s slightly uncomfortable; the only thing you can pay attention to is the way he fills you up, stretching your pussy with his thick cock.

Pulling almost all the way out only to slam into you again makes your cunt clench when he’s fully sheathed to try and keep him captive. He’s too strong, though, and he pulls away easily, the added tension only providing the both of you with further pleasure. You both whine, Izuku’s head dropping so you can no longer see his eyes, forehead covered completely by dark curls caked with sweat and sticking to his skin.

Deku licks his lips and you watch as he tilts his head to gaze down at you, the primal need to see you full giving his eyes a deeper color, a green so dark it’s almost black. The sight of him so overcome with arousal makes your stomach turn, a fresh wave of heat coating your inner walls and slipping down his cock in the form of silvery slick.

He pants, his jaw hung open, “You want me to fill you up? Come in you over and over until you can’t take it anymore, until your pretty belly is bulging with my come?”

You don’t have the chance to respond when he bottoms out within you, stretching you out even further as his cock spasms with desire. It’s like he’s growing within you even more so now that he’s imagining your tummy swollen from his come. Your jaw hangs open even as you throw your head back, your hands flying to the comforter to snag what you can beneath your fingernails.

Izuku does not waste the sight of your neck, bare and open, practically begging for him to claim as his canvas. With his next stroke he is careening forward to latch his tongue and teeth onto the sensitive skin, your jugular pulsing beneath his mouth. Your hand flies upward to tug at the wild curls near the back of his scalp, your thighs held in place by his hips as he continues into you at a steady pace.

“I can’t wait to put a baby in you, Princess,” Izuku is panting in your ear now, the lewd sounds of his hips bucking into yours the only other sound you can make out. Your shoulders shudder underneath his weight but he is holding you like an anchor, so you know that you are safe in his embrace. You turn your head, so your cheek is pressing into his, leeching the heat from his skin until your own flesh is burning.

“Fuck,” Deku laps at your throat aimlessly, as if he can’t quite get where he wants, but he doesn’t know what else to do, “Gonna fill you up every time I get the chance, breed you until you’re begging for me to stop. Pump that pretty pussy full of my come until you can’t walk straight.”

Your cunt spasms around his cock and he knows that means you’re close to coming. He’s pushed off his own release in favor of coming in tandem with you, so he starts to pump into you faster, drifting a hand down to your clit to try and stimulate you closer to the precipice of pleasure. You’re whining, nails dragging against his biceps unforgivingly, “Daddy, c’mon, I want you to come in me. Please, won’t you come in me? Fuck me full of your come, please!”

The entirety of your mouth is sandpaper dry with your insistent begging. You lick your lips at the feel of his cock spasming within your core, the tip of him brushing against your cervix in a bruising manner. “I-I wanna make you a Daddy for real, please, won’t you put a baby in me?”

A feral growl parts his lips at your request, and your body clenches from head to toe at the sound. You can’t breathe, your entire being is suffocated by the essence of him – body, mind, soul. He is everything and it covers you like a hot blanket, searing into your skin until you’re branded for him.

“You want this load?” he asks breathlessly. “Want me to breed you up good?”

He is barely able to look at you when you whimper out your response. Goosebumps cover the expanse of his body as he thinks about what you’d look like, swollen with the imminent promise of his baby growing in you. Something digs into him at the base of his spine, something that makes him ache with the need to see you waddling around, unable to see your ankles as you rest your palm on the top of your tummy. Izuku squeezes his eyes shut so he can listen to your wanton desperation, sweat making the two of you stick together at every juncture.

Deku grunts one last time before all his resolve floods from his body, “Here you go, Princess, don’t waste it.”

The angle he has your body in, folded up like a pretzel, would usually make it hard for you to waste any of it, but the sheer amount of come being pumped into you makes you nervous. You feel the familiar seeping of his seed from your cunt and you reach down to try and sop it up, but Izuku beats you to it. He uses his thumb to collect the milky fluid, rubbing it over your clit to use as lubricant as his dick continues to pump the rest of his load into your abused hole.

“Good girl,” he whispers absentmindedly as he fucks you through his aftershocks, the pad of his thumb driving you crazy as you squirm beneath him. Izuku can tell by the sheer force with which you’re clamped down on him that you’re chasing your own high, your eyes squinted closed so you can focus on orgasming until you’ve coated his cock with your arousal.

Izuku fights through the bliss that’s clouding his mind to lean down and kiss over your face, “C’mon, Princess, come for me.”

When your eyes split open, the first thing you notice is the scar that cuts from his hairline down over his eyebrow, separating the tail of his brow from the base. You reach up to brush your fingertip over it, your heels dug into the curve of his ass to bring yourself closer to him, if that were at all possible. Your mouth hangs open as your thumb maps out the scar, ragged flesh the very opposite of the remaining smooth plane of his body.

“I love you,” you whisper, silent silver tears leaking from your eyes as the combination of all of your senses being stimulated pushes you over the crest, drowning you in the waves of pleasure he creates by rocking into you.

It has taken years for Izuku to understand that you paying attention to the jagged parts of his body does not mean that you would not love him if he were any less broken.

Your vision passes over each inch of his body, taking inventory of the markings on his body – freckles, blemishes, scars – as if they might have changed since the last time you looked. Your hands roam over his shoulders, finding the pale scars and dipping your fingertips against them to feel the ridges against the rough pad of your digits.

Midoriya melds his mouth against yours, lost in the taste of you as his cock spasms within your tight heat. Your entire bodies are coated in a mixture of tears and sweat and slick, but you don’t care as he lowers himself down on top of you until you’re flush with one another from shoulder to ankle.

His tongue is mapping the curvatures of your teeth when he responds in kind, “I love you, too.”

He slows once he realizes you’ve both been milked of whatever else you might have left to give. Your body is gently placed back down on the bed, hot sweat sticking to the cooled sheets. Izuku kisses from your jaw to your collarbone, lavishing each inch with the utmost affection, it could make you cry.

Your hands work through his hair, curls falling silkily between your knuckles. You lean forward and kiss the spot on his forehead where his brows are furrowed. At the feel of your affections, his expression softens and the creases on his skin soften into nothing but fine lines. Izuku smiles up at you, nuzzling your cheek, “You did so good, baby, you’re always such a good girl for me.”

“Mhm, you make it easy,” you croon into the shell of his ear as he tilts himself forward, still buried in you even as his cock goes soft. You tilt your head, curling a finger around a lock of his hair, “W-Were you serious?”

Izuku catches a glint of the diamond on your left hand, a proud grin bringing out his dimples, “You’ll know in, what, four weeks?”

The whole thing is too exciting, and you know that even though you’re still on contraceptives, it could happen. He doesn’t move to correct himself, instead waiting on your answer.

“F-Four weeks,” you nod, your tongue sitting heavy and dry in between your teeth.

Midoriya catches your hesitation, “We won’t change anything, except how many times a day I bury my cock into that pretty little pussy of yours. We’ll see if I can beat out the statistics on your medication.”

You know he’s talking about the one-in-whatever chance that your birth control doesn’t work, but the way he says it drags shivers up your spine. You curl both hands into his hair and swallow the thick emotion pent up in your throat, “You meant what you said?”

“Four weeks,” he echoes as if it should be an answer. Izuku knows better than to have a permanent conversation with you when your eyes are still glassy like this, your mind still submerged in that headspace he puts you in when the two of you fuck this way, rough and merciless. All he can do now is remember to talk to you about this once you’re both calm and rational.

Your eyes fill with a fresh set of tears and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to the base of your throat, “I’m gonna fill you up with so much come, baby. We might have to get you a plug.”

You tighten every orifice of your body, fingers dug deeper into the muscle of his shoulders. Your thumb catches on the curve of one of his particularly deep scars, slicing into him like veins on a marble slab. In your heightened state, it’s easy to feel like you’re floating in midair and might never come down, but the tactile reminder of his body beneath your fingertips gives you that anchor that you need to keep yourself from drifting too far.

Methodically, you drift the pads of your digits back and forth, a melody playing in your head that you play out against his body. The rigidity of his form, strong and barring as he loiters over you, only adds to the calm that you feel wash over your frame, settling into your bones like stardust. You feel lightheaded, but in a giddy way, the warmth of Midoriya’s body just as soothing as the patterns you’re marking into his body.

Two tears drip over the edges of your eyes and you look up at him, bringing a thumb up to brush his hair out of his eyes, “I-I wanna make you a Daddy. For real.”

You think back to the day you first met – how he stole your heart with one simple look. He has always been it for you, that you now realize. From the first syllable to now, he has reigned you in, held you beneath his thumb in such a captivating way that you don’t ever want to escape.

You want to give back to him what the world never could – a little hero of his own.

It’s a blank slate, a place to start anew. Something that the burdens of Izuku’s past can never bury under layers of scar tissue and regret. The giddiness that makes your heartbeat in a frenzy only gives you more confidence to reach forward and wrap yourself around him like an animal begging for comfort. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, “You deserve this, Izu, you deserve to be happy.”

“Hey,” he calls down to you, upturning your face with the gentle pressure of his thumb underneath your chin, “I am happy, here with you.”

Your face grows hot at his confession, and you wonder if you misconstrued your words. You swallow, rolling your hips upward to reconnect your bodies at the waist, trying to convey that you can give him so much more, that you’re offering up your body to be a martyr. Your eyes water as you link your hands around his neck, thumbing at the crest of his undercut.

“Please,” you whisper, voice broken but beautiful as your single syllable speaks volumes even in the quiet of your shared bedroom.

There is a growl that erupts in his throat and he lunges forward, sucking and licking at your neck. You whimper, falling slack in his touch as you try to keep yourself anchored to him with biting, blunt fingernails. Your jaw hangs open just enough that he can see the pink of your tongue if he leans far enough back.

As Deku reclaims your mouth in his own, the primal thing burning deep in his belly spurring his cock to go for round two, he can’t help but think to himself that he’s going to make you a momma, no matter how hard he has to try, or how long it takes.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

“Why are you so enamored by them?”

You still your hand over his bare chest, your index finger tracing the ridge of one of his biggest scars – a rippling cut straight through his pectoral, the tip of it disappearing in the curve of his muscles as they meet in the middle.

When you don’t answer, Izuku swallows the lump in his throat and sits up a little straighter, leaning his shoulders back against the headboard. He looks down his nose at you, shallow breaths making his chest inflate quickly, “I guess I just don’t understand what could be so fascinating about them. Why do you like to touch them all the time?”

You turn so you are strewn across his abdomen, your chin rested in the seam of his pectorals as you look up at him, “I guess they make me feel things.”

“F-Feel things?” Izuku’s face scrunches up in confusion, the wrinkles of his nose making you smile.

Tenderly, you brush your thumb over the creases of his forehead until he relaxes, and then you start mapping out the scarred lines on his face and taking inventory of his freckled cheeks. You sigh, chewing on your lower lip, “It depends on what’s going on, but when I look at you, I feel any plethora of things – sadness, joy, horniness…”

“My scars make you horny?”

You let out a laugh and drop your forehead down and bury it in his chest to hide the blush on your cheeks. Your palm falls from his face to his collarbone, gripping his shoulder as best you can. Midoriya joins you in laughter, tucking his nose into the crown of your head so he can plant kisses into your hair. He is always so soft and kind with you, especially in these moments after you’ve been conjoined by the hips for hours on end, your heart beating in time with his as you lay pressed flush against one another. There are moments when you are a cage of limbs and you do not know where he ends and you begin, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Seeing you all roughed up just does something to me, I dunno!” You tilt your head back so you can look him in the eye, “I like knowing that you can handle yourself, and each scar has a story and we’ve been together for years and I still don’t think I’ve heard them all.”

It looks like there is something on his mind, with the way his face tenses up as soon as you stop laughing together. You rub your ankle against his calf and force him to look you in the eyes with a gentle nudging of your knuckle against his jawline, “Hey, what’re you thinking?”

Izuku is not normally speechless or lacking in things to say. In fact, more often than not, you have to gently place your hand on his shoulder to remind him that everyone can hear his loud mutterings, or that sometimes there are more appropriate times to speak your mind. This time, his tongue lolls around within his cheeks as he tries to come up with the right thing to say.  The pattering of your heart grows faster the longer he is silenced, your pulse thudding like thunder in your ears as you anticipate what could possibly be plaguing his mind at a time like this.

Your thumb brushes against a scar near his ear and he circles his fingers around your wrist, “Would you still love me if I didn’t have them? If my skin was perfect, like Kacchan or Todoroki?”

“First of all, Todoroki has a big ass scar on his face, so jot that down,” you tease, pushing yourself up to kiss him square on the lips. You pull away from him but not entirely, still brushing your nose along the bridge of his cheeks, “And Bakugou has a stupid quirk that gives him great skin, so he’s an awful example.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes and shoves your hand away from his face, sitting up even further so you fall away from him, curling yourself into the sheets. His countenance looks overly contemplative, and it’s beginning to worry you. You sit up in the bed, grabbing his shirt off the nightstand to cover yourself with, tossing it over your head with ease. The fabric pools at your waist but it smells intoxicating, just like him, his warmth from earlier in the night somehow still sticking to the fabric to provide you comfort.

“You know what I mean,” he grits his teeth, unable to look at you as he poses the question, “I-I just…I wonder if you love them more than you love me, sometimes, is all.”

It does not take long for you to redirect his attention back to you, turning his face with a rough yank of your wrist. You look him in the eyes, and he is but a broken little boy in this moment, begging for you to piece him back together.

The thought that he is nothing more than patchwork put back together by the scars on his body makes you feel hollow inside. How can a man who has given up so much feel like so small in a moment of pure reflection? Does he not see all the good he brings to the world, and yet how little it ever dares to give back to him?

“Izuku Midoriya,” your voice is stern, and you watch as he bolsters his spine as if he were talking to a Pro Hero, “I would love you if your whole body was covered in scars or if you had perfect skin. Why would you say something like that?”

Before he can give you some long-winded answer, you throw a leg across his lap so you’re straddling him and he has nowhere to run to, nowhere to divert his attention. Your palms are on his face, cupping his cheeks and making sure to look him dead in the eyes as you give him a dose of the truth. Still, you fear your words may not be enough to satiate his wounded pride, his blistered ego.

“When I look at you, I see how much the universe has stolen from you, how much of your body the world has taken, and how everyone else just takes you for granted.” Your voice grows heavier with each word, the threat of tears sitting in your eyelids, making your face warm. “I see a man who, time and time again, gives everything up to save the world, and all it does in return is take.”

You intake a short breath, trying to calm yourself because this is his moment to ache until his heart feels like it might burst out of his chest. Now it is your job to soothe his burning soul with the salve of your reassurance, mending his inner turmoil with a metaphoric touch that you pray can seep into the cracks of his resolve until he’s full once more.

Brushing his hair away from his face, you lean in closer so you can speak softly, “You once called them ugly. I think that every single scar is a reminder of something that happened in the past. I love to hear your stories of how you got them, each heroic act displayed on your body like a little lightning bolt of truth.”

A sigh parts your lips and you drop your gaze to his chest, finding the familiar ridges of flayed skin easily. You lick your lip and trace your thumb over a few of them, relishing in the quiet moments before you have to speak again.

“I don’t love your scars, I love you.” You press your palms flat to his chest so you can cover the expanse of his pectorals beneath your hands, the heel of your palm against the swell of his chest, “I would ask you for all of your stories even if I never touched a single scar, even if I never saw one. I’d ask you because I want to know you.”

Your hands travel north towards his neck, delicately roaming over the thin skin of his throat before winding into the hair at the back of his head, “I’m so fascinated by them because I want you to know that I don’t think any less of you for them, that I don’t believe you to be weak just because you’re marked by your experiences. If anything, I think it’s beautiful, that you’ve been given this burden like Atlas, to carry around the weight of each on one your shoulders.

“But even though it’s beautiful, that does not mean that it’s right,” your voice turns cold, hard and jagged as you speak through your teeth, “How much more can you be expected to give? Does the universe not see what it’s done to you? What it’s asking of you to continue doing? I just can’t imag-oh.”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, his hands traveling up your spine beneath your shirt, palming at the skin of your shoulders. Izuku nips your lower lip and you are melting in his touch like always, “I love you.”

You tilt your head, gasping as he starts down the column of your neck, biting kisses in a warm, wet line as he descends. You echo out the sentiment in return, barely able to make out syllables with the salacious way his lips and tongue are working at your skin. Your hands twist in his hair and he pulls you flush with him so he can nudge the collar of the shirt aside to show your collarbones the same attention as your neck.

“Oh!” you pipe up, your voice hardly more than a squeak, “And I love your freckles too. They’re so cute and I love how they’re literally everywhere, even your dic-”

“Less talking,” Izuku takes you by surprise, tackling you back into the mattress, “more kissing.”

And you happily oblige.

Besides, you have the rest of your life to tell him how much you love his freckles.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

a/n: all right. that’s it. never writing deku fic EVER again. phew. kacchan, please don’t be mad, honey, it was for a friend, i swear!!!!!

also it’s almost 4 am when i’m posting this so if the last section doesn’t make sense i’m sORRY!!!

taglist: 

@tui-lah @viviankennedy @bnha-homeroom @frogsmarch @anxietys-a-bitch @succulent-momma @albuquerquemalu @ali-on-reverie @iamthe-leaf @kamehamethot @hoe-biscus @ux-l3ee @lovelustdollsworld @bigbootyconnections @alexandria-selina @eianthedumbass @sanguinekeigo @desia2 @loveydoveythot @shoutosplaything @thatloserweeb @kittysocks20 @jayetheanimefreek101 @toastedpopsicles @riotfuckery @spidrskarma @panbaigel @unsafetypin @peltho @mes-bisous @ee-blue @mildlyman @moondust-and-starlight @ihaileysenpai @hijackedreese @vampiregirl70 @gwizzpanda @powderedjellidoughnut @salemthewitch​ @unknown-girlie​ @mea-100​ @crystal-is-in-the-digiworld​ @phantomjeans​ @lozmarton​ @bananayogurtbitch​ @wwhndsome​ @violeteyedkeith​ @pumapurman​ @stfucanunot​

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku smut #deku smut #deku x reader #midoriya smut #midoriya izuku x reader #bnha x reader #izuku x you #midoriya x you #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #morgan writes bnha #my writing

[lalahbug]

Guidance - Zuko x Reader Chapter 5

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender Word Count: 3,352

My Masterlist

Warnings/disclaim: General Mentions of sex and some somnophilia, 18+ Minors DNI Angst Author’s Note: under story ___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting. 

Story under cut, 5 of 8, Guidance Masterlist

         Days had passed, their passion, and Zuko’s hunger calmed as he took her anywhere he could. Finding the thrill of the possibility of being caught, a new high. Quick sessions were welcome, but nothing could compare to love making they would take their time with. But as the days passed his lust and desire dulled to a more normal and more manageable yearning.

Zuko was talking to his uncle about Appa, the Avatar’s lost bison, Iroh was lecturing him about his destiny again. ___ sighed and turned to clean up dishes from lunch. Then Zuko stormed out.

“___?” Iroh called softly.

“Yes,” she turned with a soft smile.

“That dish should be clean now, it’s been in your hands for about 10 minutes.”

“Oh, um,” she laughed and put it down.

“I’m worried about him too. I’ll keep an eye on him and bring him home.” Iroh stood up to leave.

“Please be safe.”

“Even if I have to bend, we’ll come home, okay?” 

“Thank you!” Her eyes watered with gratitude towards the loving uncle.

The front door opened as ___ was reading. “You’re home!” She got up to hug Zuko tightly.

“You did the right thing. Letting the Avatar’s bison go free.”

“I’m so proud of you,” ___ brushed some of his hair away from his face.

“I don’t feel right,” he seemed dizzy.

“You’re burning up,” he then collapsed onto her.

“Zuko!” Both of their voices rang out as she tried to keep him upright.

The next few days, ___ and Iroh watched over Zuko in turns, trying to keep him hydrated and blankets on him, to help him sweat it out. 

“My dear, you should sleep, I can take a turn.” Iroh placed a hand on her shoulder. She nodded solemnly, before lying down next to him and keeping an eye on her love as she started to drift. Iroh made some tea for himself and Zuko.

___ woke up without Zuko next to her. She sat up and looked around for him before going into the main room.

“Good morning, my love,” Zuko smiled at her while eating some jook with his uncle who was eyeing him cautiously.

“Morning,” she leaned down and kissed the top of his head. The fever was gone. “You seem happy,” she said hesitantly before sitting next to him with a bowl of jook for herself.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a new day. We got a new apartment, new furniture, and today is the grand opening of Uncles’ tea shop. I have a wonderful fiancé. Once we’re settled here with the new shop, we should start planning the wedding.” He took her hand and kissed it with a smile.

She eyed him and glanced over at Iroh, who only shrugged. “We don’t need to rush a wedding; we can just enjoy our time and this peace.”

“We’ll plan it when you’re ready then,” he kissed her cheek and got up with his bowl. “Are you done Uncle?” Zuko gestured to the bowl in front of Iroh.

“Yes,” Iroh handed it to Zuko, who walked away and started washing both of the bowls. “Thank you, Prince Zuko.”

“You can just call me nephew, Lee, or Zuko, no need for the formality, we’re family.”

___ smiled at Iroh, although a very different Zuko, and she was worried but she still loved him. Iroh smiled back, but she could tell he wasn’t quite ready to accept this new Zuko without some wariness.

Iroh was preparing to serve tea for the Earth King, but something about it worried him.

“___, my dear, would you be willing to watch over the shop while we go to the King?”

“Oh,” the small disappointment escaped her before she smiled. “Of course!”

“Uncle, I doubt she wants to be left alone,” Zuko pouted at the thought of her alone running the shop.

“I’ll be fine, remember your manners and best uniforms,” she kissed his cheek.

“Of course, my love,” he rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t over work yourself.”

She sent them off with a loving smile.

“___, come with me!” Iroh burst into the tea shop.

“But the shop!” She yelled as he pulled her away.

“You serve the last of the tea, once out, close the shop!” Iroh shouted at an employee before running off with ___ in tow.

 They were outside a house and Iroh knocked gently. “Glad to see you’re okay,” Toph said with a smile, to Iroh.

“We need your help,” Iroh asked sincerely as he saw the Avatar. 

___ had kept quiet while Aang and Iroh tunneled down.

“Sorry I haven’t introduced myself,” Aang gave her a soft smile.

“I know who you are, Avatar, I’m sorry to meet you like this. I’m ___, I’ve met Avatar Roku before. And if I’m meeting you now,” she trailed off. Iroh and Aang looked at her. “We all need to be very careful.”

“You’ve talked with Roku? How?” Aang looked at her.

“I’ve been to the spirit world. I’m supposed to help you with getting in touch with the spirit world when needed.”

“That would be amazing, after we save the Earth Kingdom, please come with us.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

“Why? If Roku said you were supposed to help me.”

“The angry jerk we’re going to save, is my fiancé,” she touched her necklace in thought of Zuko.

“You’re the waterbender that was healing Iroh in the desert!” Aang finally called out remembering her.

“Yes, I have duties to you both. I love you both. You are my destiny; he is my future. The world needs you, Zuko needs me.”

As they broke into the catacombs, Katara ran into Aang’s arms and ___ ran into Zuko’s.

 Iroh and ___ were kept within crystals as Azula and Zuko talked, ___ only tear up, knowing her future, the one Roku had told her long ago was about to come true.

As Zuko left with one last glance at them, her tears fell.

“Dear, it’ll be okay, we’ll get him back,” Iroh tried to calm her down.

“Iroh, Roku let me know, my future while I was in the spirit world.” She looked up trying to blink back the tears. "Today Aang will fall and my lover will leave me.” Iroh’s eyes went wide.

“Close your eyes, I’m going to get us to the Avatar.”

 Running never seemed important until today, she had stamina but adrenaline pushed her worried legs faster. Oxygen didn’t seem necessary until she gasped for air as her legs tried to slow. She pressed on, Iroh not to far behind her 

As her feet hit the opening, she shouted for Zuko, but once she saw Aang ascending and Azula behind him. Her scream turned for Aang, as her heart took over her hearing, the vibrations of her own body moving was foreign. Adrenaline burned out as she stumbled towards Aang. The last thing her mind registered fully was the lighting sticking Aang.  ___ collapsed, her vision blurred, the last thing she saw was Iroh standing in front of her, protecting her and Katara, so Katara could escape with the Avatar. But ___ could hear Zuko’s panicked cry for her. She already exhausted her strength, vision gone, coldness spreading, so she welcomed darkness as it took her. She felt her body move, a warmth beneath her enveloped her. She heard her name and a soft sob, happy to hear his voice one last time. Darkness consumed her; unable to see, feel, or hear. She was gone, mind and soul.

        Brightens of white, hushed voices, stinging pain, ___ opened her eyes, but could only see lights and blurred objects.

“She’s awake, alert Prince Zuko,” someone shouted.

Although she was weak, her adrenaline rushed once again at the sound of her lover's name.

 “Where is she?” She heard his voice, when he didn’t see her in her bed.

“She’s backed herself in a corner, guards are trying to calm her down,” Mai said in a bored tone before walking over to him.

“___?” Zuko’s eyes found hers, but the hurt and confusion in her eyes stopped him in his steps towards her. He had broken his promise, the Avatar is dead.

Zuko took in the situation, her back against a corner. In a defensive stance, 3 guards on the floor, likely chi blocked. 3 others surrounding her.

When his golden eyes met hers again, he saw tears. He followed her gaze to Mai's finger, as she hung off his shoulders. Then to his own hand. Both of them wearing identical rings, as his father had put their arranged marriage back onto course. Now that Zuko was the rightful heir of the throne. 

His heart felt like it was being stabbed as she dropped her stance then removed her betrothal necklace. She let it fall from her neck, not bothering to catch it. The ringing noise it made in the connection to the ground, echoed in his ears. Ringing continued as he realized, she was no longer his. She let the necklace drop because that’s how she felt. That he just dropped her, left her.

Her eyes were glued to her feet as guards and nurses got her back into bed. Zuko got a glimpse of the large open wound on her back. As if she had been the one shot down by Azula. While a nurse changed her bandages.

Eventually he realized a guard was talking to him, asking if she should be moved to a cell. 

"No, she's my friend, let her stay here, until she's healed."

"That will be awhile Prince Zuko," a nurse informed him as she finished changing the women's bandages.

"She is a guest of Prince Zuko," he commanded around him. "She was scared to be in an unfamiliar place, you will forgive her for being defensive."

"Of course, Prince Zuko," they chimed around him in acknowledgment.

He heard ___ scoff a bit at the unison of servants.

"Do you have something to finally say?" Mai spat at the wounded woman. 

She turned her head slightly to give Mai and Zuko an icy glare. Even though Mai didn't really scare easily, she still hid behind Zuko, from the glare. 

As everyone who was unneeded in the infirmary left, Zuko took a moment to go over and scoop up the necklace. Thankfully it wasn't damaged or chipped, he turned to see ___ laying down, staring at the ceiling, with a blank and cold expression. Zuko walked to the side of her bed. 

"You've been unconscious for weeks, I'm glad you're awake." He touched her hand softly, but she pulled her hand away as if he shocked her. 

"How are you feeling?" He asked softly. 

Finally, her eyes moved to his aZbigniewnd he fought the overwhelming urge to comfort the pain he saw in her deep and open eyes; the pain was emotional and physical. 

"She's in a lot of pain, but we can't give her pain medication." A nurse finally answered for her. Her eyes moved back to the ceiling and he could see the open door of her eyes cut off the emotion once again. 

"Why can't you give her pain medication? She's in pain, that makes no sense."

"We did give her some when she arrived, but a blood test showed she's pregnant so we can only give her so much without harming the baby."

Zuko’s head swirled, pregnant, the baby. Her baby, his baby, their baby. His eyes snapped to hers but there was still no emotion. Then his eyes drifted to her flat stomach. 

"She's only a month or so along. She won't show for a while. Could you notify the father? Being her best friend, I would assume you would know the father." 

"I do," Zuko whispered before looking at her face again, she was sullen and unexpressive. "Let me know if there is anything she or the baby needs." With that Zuko left to put in a request to see his father, to end the arranged marriage. Seeing his love close off to him, opened his eyes a bit. He needed to fix this, have her by his side again. But the Fire Lord had no openings until the morning.

As Zuko put on his best clothes to attend the request he'd put in to see his father, a guard knocked on his door.

"What?" Zuko answered the door annoyed as the guard was there too early to escort him to the Fire Lord.

"Your guest is gone," the guard panted out, as he'd run all the way there. "She took down over 38 guards, with the full moon, her chi blocking and waterbending, she was unstoppable.

"She left?"

"Yes, but she also left a note for you." The guard extended the rolled scroll to him.

"I will walk myself to my meeting with my father, you may go." Zuko slammed the door shut and quickly opened the parchment.

My dear Zuko,

I hope you find your way and your destiny. I am going to mine. If your life ever has a need to cross mine, I hope we'll be able to see each other again. 

Don't fret over the baby, we'll be safe and fine without you. Live the life you want.

Your friend,

___

Six simple sentences, no anger, no love, just hope of good life for a friend. It would have hurt less if she left without a note, so he could still have hope. Hope she still loved him, that he wasn't too late, but she ended with friend, his friend.

He sunk down to the floor and put his head in his hands. He had to fix all this. Find her, beg for her forgiveness, he wanted to fix everything. 

___ was in a fire nation town, in proper fire nation clothes, that she stole in her escape. Looking for Aang, Roku said he would be here, that he’s okay.

“Hey pretty lady, you look lost. Can I help you?” Some guy, who looked like high schooler, was hitting on her.

“Thank you, but no. I’m looking for a friend.”

“I can be your friend,” he smiled at her.

“I really appreciate the offers, but I’m not in the mood to pretend to be nice right now. So please leave me alone.”

“Fine,” he spat before heading back to the school.

Her gaze followed him, to make sure he wouldn’t come back, when she saw Aang. With hair? A headband? She quickly walked up to him and grabbed by the arm pulling him away from the crowd.

“___?” Aang blinked and rubbed his eyes.

“Aang,” she sighed happily.

“How did you find me?”

“Roku said you’d be here. I’m ready to help you, with the spirit world and maybe even the Avatar State.”

“That’s awesome!” He pumped his fist in the air. “But what about Zuko?” He asked quietly.

“He,” she trailed off before inhaling and steeling her emotions. “He’s engaged to someone else now. He doesn’t need me. But you do, right?” A bit of her insecure state slipped through the cracks as she looked at Aang’s pitiful eyes. Aang nodded then gave her a cheerful smile.

After school, Sokka was lecturing Aang for even going. But once he deemed it okay, Aang then introduced her to the rest of the Gaang.

“She’s been with Zuko. How can we trust her?” Katara eyed her.

“Zuko left her, for someone else.” Aang said trying to ease the tension Katara had at the mere mention of Zuko.

“I understand you might not trust me. You don’t know me. But I’ve never attacked any of you, and I never would. My destiny is to help the Avatar with connection to the spirit world and the Avatar state. My relationship with Zuko is over, he broke his promise.”

“What promise?”

“That Aang wouldn’t die, although only briefly, he did die, the promise broke.”

“Then what took you so long to come to us, why now? Why before the eclipse?” Sokka was weary, but there as not malice in his tone, unlike his sister 

“I’ve been unconscious for weeks, I guess. I’m still not healed. I’m in a lot of pain. But once I woke up, there was a full moon that night. I used the energy from the moon to mask my pain to come here.”

They all looked at her, Sokka and Katara still judging her, Aang and Toph, looked confused. Old feelings of being unwanted tried to surface, especially with the sting she still felt from Zuko being with another. Her eyes closed tightly, trying to shove it all down, she wasn’t going to cry, not now, not ever. Not over him, not again. She needed time to process more to work through the emotions, before they worked through her.

“If you don’t trust me, there is no reason for me to stay. I’ve heard you broke the stupid traditions in the North Pole. So thank you for that, I might be able to go home now.” She bowed deeply to Katara, a gratitude she wanted out in the open before leaving. The wound on her back however was not forgiving of the motion. She collapsed with a pant of pain. Aang was quick to help her up.

“How did you get the wound on your back?” Toph asked, her voice rougher than ___ thought it’d be since she was so small.

“I’m not sure, when I saw Aang get shot down, I went down too. I remember being in so much pain, and Iroh protecting me as Katara left with Aang. Next time I opened my eyes, I was in the fire nation. Zuko called me a friend, a guest, but I couldn’t stay, knowing he didn’t need me anymore. Doesn’t love me anymore than a friend.” Aang was still supporting her as she looked away from the group, the pain seethed through her spine again. Aang supported her and made sure she stayed up.

“Katara, can you please heal her? If you guys aren’t okay with her here, I understand, but I can’t let her go home like this.”

Katara’s eyes softened at Aang’s plea. Thinking back on ___’s words, they all were true. She never helped Zuko attack them, she was and did collapse in the crystal catacombs. Then she bowed even while in pain to show respect.

“I’ll take a look and then we can talk about her situation.”

Aang smiled as he helped move ___ into the cave so Katara could look at the wound, privately. 

“How is she?” Aang asked as Katara came out.

“She’s asleep, I healed her the best I could, it’s so similar to where Azula struck you, but I treated you immediately. As far as I can tell they only kept it clean, hoping it would heal. It was infected. I don’t even know how she was walking so well.” Katara sat by the fire with the others.

“She’s very sad too,” Toph whispered. “She never lied, but every time Zuko’s name came up, I could almost feel her heart throb and break. She misses him, but I don’t blame her for not showing it. Trying to move on.”

“Well if she’s not lying,” Sokka started. “I think she’d be beneficial to Aang, once she’s better of course.”

“She is hiding one thing,” Toph stated. “She’s pregnant, she has two heartbeats. One always steady and fluttering, hers was the only one changing beat.”

“I didn’t think Zuko was such a monster.” Katara spat. “She’s carrying his child, but still he leaves her for someone else. His actions are disgusting.”

“I think we should let her stay with us, at least for a while.” Sokka stated as he felt bad for her too.

“Yeah, she stays with us,” Katara smiled softly. “She needs someone who wants her, even if just as friends.”

“Well I truly do need her. It would be nice, to have the Avatar State back, or at least to have an easier way to get into the spirit world.” Aang smiled back at Katara and they all nodded in an agreement.

Author’s Note: Sorry if you’re not into the whole pregnancy thing. I fought with myself over and over about having it or not, in the long run, I clearly decided to roll with it. This chapter is so choppy with me trying to explain shit to get where I want this story to be/go.Believe it or not, it was like 3 times worse before I started the revision. I hope you still enjoyed it. Still rewriting the last chapters, but I promise they are better than this chapter aha

#guidance series #fanfic #fic #zuko x reader #zuko/reader #avatar zuko #atla fic #lalah writes #lalahbug #reader insert #xreader #self insert #fire lord zuko #firelord zuko

[lovee-infected]

I'm about to start my own (twst) writing blog and I'm going around writers that I follow for some advice q*q could you give me any wisdom on what I should do when starting a writing blog? thank you!! I love your works and you're one of the writers that inspire me

Aa thank you baby I'm so happy to hear that I inspire you!! First off, good luck with the new writing blog! I'm glad that more authors are joining the fandom and wish you all the best with your works! 💞💖💞 Other than trying to keep your blog organized by creating a proper masterlist, choosing a suitable aesthetic, having a set of rules and making sure to tag all of the warnings and necessary mentions (gender of reader, n/sfw or trigger warning), I tried to come up with some useful advises that might help!

1) Keep up the great confidence!

First and the most important thing about a writing blog, is to be confident and strong. Look, you shouldn't be afraid of posting your works and sharing with the redt of the fandom, even as they're not as perfect as you want them to be. The more you write, the more you learn! And you'd grow to be better and better as you continue to share your works! Not even the greatest authors had been any perfect on their first days!

2) If you're accepting requests, try to set a limit

Being overwhelmed with asks is never pleasant, if you just open your inbox to face 500 requests you'd be to be terrified and confused and even lose your passion to work on any of them because of the stress and not knowing where to begin from. Try to set a limit based on your personal limits, how many requests do you think you can have at the time without stressing out because of how much they are? 10? 20? 50? 100? 200? Doesn't matter! If you feel like you're fine with huge numbers like 200 and 150, it's totally fine! If not, remember that setting a character limit would not only reduce the possible chance of stressing out and overwhelming anxiety but it'll also help you manage your inbox better and easier! You can start taking requests again just as soon as your inbox in cleared!

3) Try to treat yourself every once in a while!

Working on requests can be tiring and sometimes, boring. It's great if you enjoy working on requests no matter what they are but remember to write for your own pleasure every once in a while too!

Even if you have like 100 requests laying in your inbox, feel free to write self indulgent fics or something that you'd like to write even if it's super odd an irrelevant to your normal writings! Remember that you deserve to read something you enjoy just as much as the others do, so don't forget to bless yourself with that beautiful writing of yours ;) Remember that it's your blog, you are free to do everything that makes you happy or anything that you simply enjoy doing ^^

4) Remember that no matter what, toxicity always exists and it's not your fault

Look toxicity is very common to be found social medias, especially platforms like tumblr in which anonymous function exists. Even celebrities and world-famous artists might get attacked over pretty silly stuff every once in a while so it's something usual to happen! I wish you never receive any potentially harmful or rude asks or messages but if you ever do, best would be to block or simply ignore them! People in this platform can be ridiculous sometimes lol, there are people who DM creators just to spam hate and block the creator whom they spammed after wards lol, so don't even bother t waste your time with such people!

If anyone comes to your inbox/DMs/comments to say something harsh or leave a sharp critique, best would be to ignore them. Even if you like to answer or respond to reply to them tey to be chill and not take them seriously. Remember, even if they didn't like your content they could've just scrolled down without bothering to read your work, so if they had the guts to come and spam you with nonsense just because they didn't like your work, it's their fault! They didn't have to read, and it doesn't even matter if they liked your work or not! It's their problem and all, so remember not to let these kind of people get to you at all!

5) Take it easy with writing

Don't push yourself too hard, remember that not everything you write is supposed to be *perfect. This is even more serious when it comes to requests, thousands of unexpected ideas might pop up in your inbox and it makes it quite confusing to choose what to write or do!

First off, don't be any shy or anxious about rejecting the requests which don't follow your rules or come when you aren't accepting requests. Those who violate your rules aren't worthy of your time and work!

Secondly, keep this is mind that you aren't expected to be able to write everything! Sometimes the requests are hard to write, the idea seems odd or hard to understand, or sometimes you just don't feel comfortable or don't want to write it all, which is okay!

You always have the right to take/drop whichever of your requests and you don't owe anyone anything for this, it's your own blog, your work, and your content. Don't ever force yourself to write something which you don't like to write!

6) Your health is always the top priority

Remember that no matter how popular you are, how many followers you have, how many requests are left in your inbox or how much people are wishing to get more of your content, you're free to stop writing and put this wrong at a temporarily (or even permanent) hiatus.

Sometimes you just don't feel like writing, then don't write. If you feel like you're being too busy with work/family/school and anything please don't force yourself to write! Remember that your real life matters always come first!

Also, you might even need a break from writing without necessarily being really busy or sad, sometimes you just need to take a break from everything, and it's totally fine to do! Take as much time as you need and stay healthy during your breaks. It'd be even better if you don't even think of any new ideas/Aus while you're taking a break from writing so you can fully set your mind off stuff! Doesn't even matter if followers/readers are going to appreciate this or not, it's not about them, it's about you. Remember that your good readers/follwers who understand that authors are normal humans and not writing machines would surely understand if you need to take a break too!

7)Keep yourself motivated!

There might be days when you can and have the time to write, but something's holding you back. You feel like procrastinating over and over at some point lose the motivation to write. First off, that's a really normal matter to see as many of us have to struggle with laziness sometimes lol, but there are some useful tips to keep yourself Motamedi and hyped while you're planning to write! A bit of challenge would not only make it a lot more fun, but is also a good way to keep yourself motivated and inspired!

First, try prompt lists! They've always got plenty of useful ideas and inspirational quotes to use and are absolutely amazing to give you new ideas for a writing!

Second, try to challenge yourself by simple stuff like setting yourself word limits, trying to see how much you can write in an hour, use some suggested words in your stories (ex: Banana, train, knife, turkey) as a small challenge! You can also try small events (like milestone or holiday events) to celebrate on your blog with stuff like: Prompt list requests, CYOAs, character interaction and other new stuff that gives you a better motivation tp write instead of just having to work on the same, usual writing requests over and over.

Also, I suggest putting an specific hour for writing/ checking on your blog in your daily schedule as this is also a way of avoiding procrastination, instead of writing 10 requests a day and not writing anything for two weeks, try to set an schedule like writing 1-2 writings everyday! Remember to put your real life activities in the schedule too so you won't have to go through any trouble to find a balance between your real life and running a writing blog!

8) Remember the crediting/copyrights

I'm just adding this here because I can see quite a few of writers using uncredited art for their stories and it's been much and less of an issue lately ^^;

First off, the arts/headers used in your writing. Make sure not to use any uncredited card or anyone else's edit without their permission, otherwise it's nothing different from stealing the work from the original artst!

If you're going to leave a link to the artist, make sure to check on them and check if they allow reposts with credit or not. If they don't, don't use their art. If they do, make sure to give them a proper credit with a link to them! (:

Editors too on the other hand spend a very long time making their edits and and aesthetics, so not copying their work is just as important as not stealing art from the artsits!

Pinterest is filled with uncredited art and if there's a pinterest art who is not linked to the original artist, putting the empty pinterest pin link would be useless and steal counted as stealing art.

9) Stick with your own writing style!

Writing style is like signature, everyone's got their very own and unique writing style. From the way you portray characters to what elements you use as the story develops, you're totally different from each and every of other authors in this fandom!

You may sometimes wonder if your writing style is any good at all while you look at other creators writings and feel the difference, and I gotta say: It doesn't even matter what others are doing! All that is important, is you.

Don't try to change your style to become close another writer's style, your own style is great as it already is! Even if you aren't yet that experienced with writing and feel like your writing could be better, remember that your writing skills will indeed improve as you continue to write and read newer and newer stuff, so don't worry about it!

Each and every writing style has got its own beauty, not everyone may totally enjoy your style at first but and as you continue to write, you'd get to learn what makes people enjoy your writing even more or how you can attract new readers with your writings, your style will change for the better as you write!

Though it's totally fine if you feel like there are writers who inspire and motivate you, remember that you won't have to be them in order to improve! You don't need to be just like them to be great! Even if you do have some issues like being a non-native speaker which can make it quite hard for you to write, you'd automatically learn and have most of your errors fixed as the time passes. I made LOTS of mistakes in my first writings but I hardly ever make any mistakes now because I'm used to it! Though it was a bit late I finally recognized my mistakes and corrected them! And I'd continue to correct more of my mistakes as I continue to write!

10) It's very good to have different writer mutuals

This one is rather optional, just a small recommendation! Though there are many writers who might recommend this as a rather important factor for running a writing blog, I'd say that this isn't necessary as there are still well-known tumblr authors and even twst authors who gained attention to themselves on their own and not with the help and support of any mutuals or writer friends, so it isn't impossible to be successful even without having any mutuals!

The thing with having mutuals is that it makes everything easier. A totally new twst blog can gain around 100 followers on its first without even posting anything more than a writing and a list of rules only because of being supported and boosted by well-known blogs while a for normal blog without any support or boosting, it may take up to 2-3 weeks or even an entire month to gain that 100!

Also, getting to talk with different authors (especially those who are more experienced than you) is motivational and heartwarming, you can feel like you have a team to belong to. You can discuss different writing ideas/issues/blog chores with them and see what they may think. You can even have their support with new ideas if you feel stuck/unmotivated while writing a piece!

I didn't have any mutuals on my first days either and I admit that this made things a bit hard, but it didn't hold me back from continuing to write! Yet I admit that it's surely very useful to have a couple of writer friends around you whom you can share your ideas with! Mutuals support each other, reblog each other's works and give each other a better chance of having their works read by more users, which is quite amazing and helpful!

11) Go for it and don't give up!

Remember that no one, not even the greatest writing blogs have been perfect on their first days. They weren't well-known back then either! And they wouldn't have been any successful today without being hard-working and strong. Leaving up to the previous 10 rules is the hardest part of having a blog, and it's all about not giving up!

Do not try to judge your writing and talents based on the amount of notes your posts get or how many followers you have, because these aren't ever going to show your true worth and talents! But I assure you, if you continue to write even through your hard days, your unmotivated days and your sad days no matter how hard it's supposed to be, everything will change. The more you write, the higher the chance of having new people find and read your works would be! Keeping up the hard work and believing in yourself is the key to achieving anything you may wish for, even having a successful writing blog!

As you continue to write, you'll get more readers, more notes on your posts, more followers and more people who enjoy your content!

Hope that these are helpful, wish you all the greatest and good luck with your writing blog!!💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞

#answered #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted Wonderland x reader #writing #writing tips #writing blog tips

[come-on-shitty-boys]

// the king. oikawa tooru //

Warnings: mentions of death

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: This is the final installment of the mini-series “Soldier, Poet, King” influenced by the song of the same name by The Oh Hellos.  I might make a second part to this or maybe just do a little drabble to finish it off?? i have to add the header later because my dumbass F O R G O T to make one and i wanna sleep ;-;

“You’re a monster.”

“I don’t care if you’re my husband.  I want nothing to do with you.”

“I refuse to sleep in the same bed as you.”

“You’re just like your father, only caring when it benefits you.”

Each hateful comment that you threw at him pulled the air from his lungs.  He’d never been talked to in such a way, but now, hearing those words drip like poison from the lips of his own wife was like a punch to the stomach.  Tooru knew going into the marriage that things were going to be rocky, but he didn’t expect it to be this bad.  He thought that given a few weeks, he’d be able to win you over with his charming personality and the two of you could enjoy a happy life together, ruling over one of the most powerful nations.

But, that was so far from the truth.  Any attempts at physical contact were shoved away.  Conversation was cut short by a snide remark from you, leaving the young king to sit with all of the gnawing guilt in his chest.  Because, every word that you uttered, he believed to be true.  He was a monster.  Well, maybe not him specifically, but his family was a completely different story.

There was a reason that the Oikawa family was the head of such an immense kingdom, one that stretched farther than one could ever fathom.  A feared kingdom and one with riches beyond your wildest dreams.  An intimidating military with ranks upon ranks of well-equipped soldiers.  Yes, that was the Riviere Kingdom, a kingdom that burned fear into its people and a king to match that scary demeanor.  The king that had worn the crown before Tooru, his father, was as ruthless as they come, building the once small kingdom into the powerhouse that it is today.  Smaller surrounding nations were on their knees, begging to be spared, but they were only swallowed by the overwhelming military force before there was even a chance to protest.  And that was the game for years.  Smaller nations were taken in, allowing the nation to swell in size and power, allowing it to move on to even bigger targets.  It was monstrous.  

But, it wasn’t like Tooru could do anything about it now.  What did you want him to do?  Give everyone their land back and let them break off into their own countries again?  They would starve and die.  People had become reliant on the aid of the kingdom, so who was he to just whisk that all away from them?  Everything was years in the past, he had barely been born when his father's rampage had reached its peak and he was only seven when the final obstacle was conquered, too young to think any ill of his father’s ways.

The Gledria Kingdom had been the goal from the very beginning.  It was the biggest and best, but late King Oikawa couldn’t have that, could he?  Tooru could remember that overwhelming swell of pride that his father carried as the royal family of the newly-fallen kingdom knelt before the king in defeat.  A king with weary eyes, dark circles and heavy wrinkles from years of stress, a queen with gentle features and lips that probably had the potential to carry the sweetest smile, and between them knelt a young girl, likely no older than the young prince himself.  Her eyes were puffy and there was a glisten of snot streaming from her nose, the fear evident in her body as she knelt there trembling.  

“I’d like to make a deal,” the fallen king states simply, his voice as commanding, steady, as if he was the one in charge.  “Your son, is he betrothed already?”

Tooru’s cheeks turned hot, the attention suddenly being turned to him.  “He’s not.”

“Then I would like to offer my daughter’s hand.  Before you refuse, I want you to think about what this could mean for you.  You are free of the burden of an even grander kingdom by letting us walk free and rebuild our home.  Not only that, we are now aligned with you, your majesty.  Our children will act as the peace treaty between our two kingdoms.”

It had been a tempting offer, one that was not refused.  And for ten years, the deal remained in tact.  The two lived in harmony, only engaging with one another when it was necessary.  But, things got boring and the death of King Oikawa was coming sooner rather than later.  It was his last mission.  Put an end to the Gledria Kingdom.

Tooru could still remember the look on your face when you were dragged into the castle on that fateful day.  You had been so eerily easy.  There were no tears, no pain, just emptiness hidden behind those deep eyes.  Your dress had been tattered, hair had been matted and tangled.  You looked like some kind of creature that Prince Tooru had only read about.  He could do nothing but watch as the handmaids took you away to clean the blood of your people off of your shell of a body.

Even now, years after the fall of your home, there was still hate and bitterness, but Tooru couldn’t even blame you.  On the night of your wedding, you had refused to speak to him, let alone consummate your marriage.  Shortly following the death of his father, when Prince Tooru was given his new title of King and you were crowned as his queen, there was nothing.  No words of celebration, no smiles were shared.  The tension in the air surrounding the young pair never dropped.  If you ever looked at him, it was only through narrowed eyes.  If you ever spoke to him, your words stung like a thousand wasps.  You were cold to him, refusing to even give him a chance, refusing to believe that he was not his father, refusing to believe that they were anything but the same.

The people noticed it in only a matter of months.  It was like the clouds had opened up and the sun was finally able to shine through.  After years of war, there was peace in the kingdom once again.  Aid was given to those who had lost everything and King Tooru was adament on purchasing his silks and fabrics from within the Riveire Kingdom to help support his people in an effort to get them back on their feet.  Festivals that had long since stopped from fear of the late king’s wrath, now filled the squares all over again.  From within the castle, there were nights where the merry cheers and laughter of people down in the village carried on the summer air as they rejoiced in a new sense of freedom that they hadn’t felt in a long time.  

And it was those nights that he was able to feel closest to you.  It wasn’t much, but every night that the music could be heard, he could find you on the balcony that extended from the bedroom that the two of you were meant to share.  Your hair would sway gently in the warm breeze, face aglow with moonlight, letting the night consume you in all of its beauty.  If he listened closely, he could hear you humming along to the tune of some song that he had heard you hum a million times, but would never tell him the name of.  Some nights, if he watched you long enough, Tooru could watch you slowly start to sway as you get lost in the song that echoed in your head.  

“We should go,” was all he had said to you.

It caught you off guard.  There was a sudden abruptness to his words, but the gentle tone that he always used when talking to you never left.  “What are you talking about?”

“A festival.  We should go sometime.  It could be fun, don’t you think?  Mother would never let me go when I was younger.  She thought commoners were filthy and when my father started his reign of terror, the festivals and parties stopped all together.”  Tooru leaned on the rail of the balcony a few feet away from you, giving you your space, while still being near you.  The fact that you didn’t immediately move away felt like a win in his book.  “Have you ever been to one?”

You simply nod.  You’re silent for a long time, he thinks the conversation is over until he sees your mouth open.  “We used to go all of the time.  If my father knew there was going to be a festival, he would take me.  We would dance and he’d lift me up and spin me around.  He would buy food and drinks for everyone there, so every single person could have a good time and not have to worry about expenditures.”  Tooru looked over at you as your words trailed off.  A soft smile graced your features.  It was the very first smile that he had ever seen from you, but it fell quickly.  “But that was before-”

“Yeah.  I know.”

“I really don’t think you do.  Do you really understand what your father did to us?  To every single kingdom that fell on their knees before him?  My people were slaughtered, Tooru.  I watched my parents die because your father betrayed them and you stand here and genuinely expect me to see you in a different light.  You may not be your father, but you’re still an Oikawa.  You carry all of that bloodshed on your shoulders now.  You could be the kindest king in the world, but nothing is going to reverse the past.”

“You’re right and I wish that there was something that I could do to fix everything.  If I could go back and stop him from doing what he did to your kingdom, I would do it in a heartbeat, but we didn’t know that it was coming either.  But, Y/N, we can’t keep living like this.  If you don’t want to love me, I can live with that, but I beg that you let me show you that I am more than just my father’s son.  I’m an Oikawa and that’s something that I can’t change, but I can change the feelings that come with hearing that name.  I wish nothing but the best for my people, our people, but that has to start here.”

“What are you saying?”

“Let me take you to one festival.  We can dance until your feet tire so much that I have to carry you home.  I’ll spin you around until you’re so dizzy that you can’t see straight.  We can eat and drink and laugh until your stomach hurts.  You don’t have to say yes, but I want to show you that I am King Oikawa Tooru and I am not the same person that my father was.  So, what do you say?  Will you do me the honor of being my dance partner for just one festival?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #oikawa #oikawa tooru #tooru oikawa #tooru #oikawa x reader #royalty au #trt #throne room thursdays #imagines #x reader #fluff #enemies to lovers #because i literally cannot resist #i kinda wanna do a part 2 #just so i can write tooru dancing around with yn #and lifting her up #and he's just such a weenie because she starts giggling like a little kid #happy for the first time in a long time

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Relaxation

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Turns out there are character’s besides Adachi from the Persona series I like, so figured I’d write a little something with one of them, starting with Dojima.

Summary Dojima has had a long day at work. Reader helps him unwind with a couple beers and some TLC.

Tags/Warnings

Alcohol, Consensual Sex, Couch Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff And Smut, Reader-Insert, Vaginal Sex

Relaxation (F! Reader/Ryotaro Dojima)

Sitting beside the table, leaning casually on your palm, you paid only half attention to the drone of the late night news anchor and flashy headers filling the screen. You cast a lazy glance at the time glaring at you from the corner of the screen. It only reinforced the obvious: it was late. Yet you had a feeling Dojima would run late again when he had asked you to watch Nanako - more like to keep her company, given how capable the young girl was for her age - and had no qualms about it. Yet it still surprised you, even with your past experiences, just how late Dojima’s work kept him from home some evenings. One would think they couldn’t function for even a scant amount of time without him.

Though, Dojima had only requested you to keep an eye on Nanako until she had gone off to bed, so, really, you were the reason for staying so late. The little girl, like all children, seemed to vastly underestimate how long she could stay awake, and had gone to sleep several hours before. But you preferred sticking around until Dojima came back. It put you at ease seeing him return safely, not to mention it gave you an excuse to spend a few fleeting moments with him, though he was often rather exhausted after his shift at the station. He had never complained about the habit either, if anything he seemed to gather a little cheer despite his fatigued state at the sight of a familiar, friendly face greeting him. So you stayed, waiting much longer than necessary, while time and television programs slowly ticked on and away.

The sound of the entryway door opening and closing from the foyer broke through the dull, fake cheery drone of the latest repetition of the week’s expected weather. You glanced away from the TV set when the second door slid open, and you spied Dojima standing in the doorway. He looked tired as always, though happy to be home. When he noticed you were waiting for him again, you spotted a tiny, pleased spark to his expression and your lips twitched up at the corners.

The twitch bloomed into a full, warm smile of greeting as you got to your feet. “Oh, you’re back,” you noted cheerily, though kept your voice level and quiet. “Long day it seems like?”

Dojima didn’t chastise you for stating the obvious. He only sighed and nodded before responding. “You have no idea,” he confirmed, shutting the door behind him and making a beeline to the kitchen. “Half the station’s out sick. It’s a miracle they didn’t keep me all night,” he grumbled, opening the fridge.

“I’ll get out of your hair then,” you said, moving to his side and touching a hand to his shoulder. “I bet you want to get some shuteye before they call you back again, right?”

Ordinarily, now was the time when Dojima would nod in agreement, give you a parting peck on the cheek or lips, thank you for watching Nanako again, and apologize for how long his arriving home had been, all before bidding you goodbye and to stay safe. But tonight he seemed more needy for company, lonely almost. “I know you already stayed late watching Nanako,” Dojima began, though he knew very well you could have left earlier, “but would you mind staying a bit longer?” he asked tentatively, and your heart fluttered in response warmly.

“Sure, I’d be glad to, if you want me to,” you agreed. You leaned into give him a quick kiss on his cheek before returning to your previous seat on the cushion beside the table.

You were a little sleepy yourself by now, but you wouldn’t pass the opportunity to spend more time with him if you had the choice. Of anyone you had ever dated, Ryotaro Dojima was the one hardest to get free time with, especially alone time, given his additional responsibilities as a father on top of being a police detective. Neither of which you faulted him for though. To you, he was worth the effort, even if he was a little rough around the edges, and not the greatest with expression himself.

Dojima rummaged through the fridge’s contents for a few seconds, pulling out two cans of beer and closing the door. He made his way to the living room, setting down of can in front of you on that table, before sitting on the adjacent side of the table in front of the sofa.

“Thanks.” Dojima hadn’t asked you whether you wanted the drink, but you knew he wouldn’t have been upset if you had declined either.

You cracked opened the beer and took a small drink, wrinkling your nose slightly at the taste. Dojima repeated your actions, though he took a larger gulp from his can, and the room lapsed into silence. Though, as you continued to watch the droning news stories and the peppy commercials pepper in between, it was a pleasant silence. Lacking the heavy, awkward atmosphere silence sometimes possessed, or any of the pressure to frantically search for a conversation topic. One another’s presence was enough to make you comfortable, the company nearly therapeutic on its own. You were content to simply satisfy whatever need for quiet company Dojima had for however long he wanted it.

Out of the corner of your eye while you sipped the contents of your can, you noticed Dojima shift awkwardly, tensely, rolling his shoulders or stretching his back and rubbing his neck and wincing. When he rose at one point to retrieve a second beer, he even made a soft sound, something like displeasure or irritation. Another casualty of a long day at work, you imagined, especially the more sedentary parts. Dojima’s long shift had done more than drain him physically and mentally it seemed.

“Do you shoulders hurt?” you prompted curiously.

Dojima’s eyebrows knit together and up in surprise, as if he hadn’t realized what he had been doing or that you might even notice. “Ah, just a little stiff. Fewer people sure doesn’t mean less paperwork,” he groused, and you saw him grimace again at another twinge of obviously sore muscles.

“Let me help,” you offered, though it was more question than anything.

“Ah, no, you don’t need to go to any trouble,” he dismissed quickly.

“Really, it’s fine, it’s no trouble,” you assured him.

Dojima sighed, as if your persistence vexed him, though it was a sigh of defeat. You knew he was prone to brush things off, and sometimes it took a little convincing tor him to accept an offer of help. He nodded, wordless agreement to your insistence.

You stood up, moving to Dojima’s side of the table and crouching down close behind him. He returned to his drink, focus seemingly turned back to the news. You didn’t waste time, quickly getting to work and placing your hands on his shoulders and starting to knead. Your touch was gentle at first, carefully prodding here or there to map out the state of his sore shoulders. Dojima was tense as well, some of it beyond just the stiffness of his muscles, like always, but that tension evaporated soon enough. Feeling him relax, and having more of an idea on what to work through, you added more strength to your massage.

“You’re really knotted up to hell and back,” you pointed out, running across a knot of muscle that was extra hard and tight. Dojima released a sound that was a mix of a hiss and a groan when you applied a little more pressure to the stubborn knot..

He said nothing to you, though. And once more the comfortable silence took over the living, the only true noises the distant drone of the television and the small sounds Dojima continued to make while you tried to soothe his soreness. By the time you had gotten his shoulder satisfactorily loose, Dojima had finished his second beer, but didn’t rise yet for another. You weren’t sure if he had decided two was enough for the late night or if he was enjoying your massage.

His neck was your neck target, not strung nearly so tense as his shoulders and back, but still obviously sore. When you pressed your fingers into the muscles of his neck, it elicited much more pleasant sounding noises, less like the almost relieved pain when you had massaged his shoulders. The familiar tone of them made you grin, and you bent your lips to his ear.

“You know, Ryotaro, all this stress building up isn’t very good for you,” you murmured, shattering the silence.

“I’m used to it. It’s nothing,” he brushed off again, and you frowned.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t so tense,” you countered. A thought had come to you as you massaged the kinks from his neck. “You know, I can think of something that might relieve some of that stress,” you drawled, the kneading of your fingers morphing into featherlight touches on his skin, and you placed a few soft kisses following the path of your fingers.

Dojima hesitated, but seemed to follow the subtle hint well enough. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve got the energy,” he wavered.

“Don’t worry, you wouldn’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, planting a few more kisses and gentle touches on his neck. You smiled when a tiny shudder rolled through him. “I’ll handle everything. I just want to help you unwind and relax, I promise. They work you so hard you deserve it, after all.”

He gave a deep hum of consideration. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment of thought.

You got to your feet, helping Dojima to his own, abandoning your empty cans and moving toward the couch. Dojima sat down and you straddled him languidly, gently pushing him back to relax against the cushions completely. He slipped his finger through the knot of his tie, loosing it and the letting the collar fall a bit before relaxing completely. “Now, just lie back and relax, okay?” you insisted, one hand splayed flat over his shoulder.

“If you say so.”

Once Dojima was completely settled, you bent forward, kissing lightly along his jaw, his stubble scratching at your lips. You trailed slowly across his skin, down his neck and back up. Rewarded with a couple of pleasant, quiet hums, you moved to his lips, pressing yours to them. As you began to kiss him, Dojima’s initial response was slow, tired. But a subdued enthusiasm welled up in the kiss the longer it went on, moving to match the sensual pace you dictated. A muffled, satisfied sigh escaped him, and you took it as your cue to carry on further.

Brushing both hands down the front of Dojima’s shirt, you worked the buckle of his belt nimbly, slipping the leather loose and discarding it. You lay a palm on the crotch of his slacks, the beginnings of an erection rising beneath your touch. You rubbed your hand against it gingerly, coaxingly. Feeling the slight bulge grow beneath your fingers, you set to undoing the catch of his pants with your spare hand. The hand stroking him through the cloth moved swiftly, dipping past his waistband and the line of his underwear to caress him more directly.

You broke away temporarily from the kiss to allow the pair of you to catch your breath, just in time for a gruff, but suppressed groan to drift from Dojima’s mouth. There was an exhausted hint to the noise, though his pleasure was plain as well. His dark eyes were closed when you looked at him, basking in the sensation, and the hints of a blissful expression had painted themselves across his weary features. When you returned to his lips, you were smiling, delighted to see some of the day’s stress already melting away.

Pushing his pants and underwear down more until his cock stood free and half-hard beneath your hand, you grabbed it in a surer grip. Dojima inhaled sharply, and you flanked down, feeling him twitch and harden further. You drew your hand up and down, again starting slow, gaining momentum and stroking faster until he was at full mast from your touch. You teased the head for a bare moment, before moving your hand away and pulling back, admiring the sight of him lying practically boneless against the cushions. A delightful flush of color dusted his cheeks and his collarbones where they peeked out from his dress shirt, and when he opened his gray eyes they were half-lidded. You tore yourself from your reverie quickly; you weren’t doing this simply for the pretty picture.

You climbed off of him for a time, and he eyed you curiously, as if wondering what had stopped you. Dipping your hands up beneath the hem of your skirt, you hooked your thumbs under your panties and tugged them down, letting them fall onto the floor. Gathering the ends of your skirt in one hand, you clambered back onto his lap, settling yourself more comfortably over him.

Reaching beneath you, you took his shaft in your hand again, guiding it your lips and sliding it between them to lubricate it with the wetness had pooled between your legs while you touched him. When he was coated well enough, you brought the head of him to your entrance, slowly easing yourself onto him. Another gruff sighed escaped Dojima, and you returned to his lips to kiss a third time.

This time the kiss was deeper, more passionate, and a little sloppy as you took more and more of his length into you, stifling tiny sounds from you both. When your hips pressed flush, and all of him was sheathed inside of you, you stopped, savoring the ache of him stretching you, a small gasp disappearing into his mouth when his length twitched again. His hands made their way to your hips, fingers absently kneading your curves through your clothes.

You leaned forward, pressing yourself more closely to Dojima, chest crushed against his, feeling the rumble of his chest as more muted sounds rolled through him, dying on your tongue. Your eyes met his gray ones again, half-lidded still, hazy with his fatigue, but also with a lusty quality that made you clench around him unbidden. Spurred on by the alluring expression in his eyes and the delightful hardness filling you up, you shifted your hips. Rocking them slowly, you allowed Dojima to relish in the tight, soft heat, and letting you feel every inch of him.

Your pace remained slow and steady, almost lazy, though the muffled noises coming from your throat and his own spoke of how much you both enjoyed it. As you had promised him, you were more than happy to do the work, letting Dojima relax and lose himself in the pleasurable sensations. His touch through clothes, while light, was pleasant and soft, encouraging you to stop now and then and grind your hips against his and kiss him a little harder, a little more ardently. Though the pace was languid, it was sure, building a low, simmering fire in your belly and a tension you tried to shove to the back of your mind in favor of focusing on Dojima.

Though he was tired, concerned he would have been too drained to be very involved, Dojima’s hips rocked up to meet yours gently, the motion almost involuntary and instinctive, rather than a concentrated effort. It only added to the pressure and the heat. You fisted your hands in the collar of his shirt, driving your hips more firmly against his and feeling the rumble in his chest intensify.

When the kiss parted for the third time, it was of Dojima’s accord. He buried his face in the hollow of your throat, panting hotly against your skin there, his small noises as muffled by your skin as they had been by your mouth. With his lips no longer around to stifle you though, you clapped a hand to your mouth in their place. Dojima’s fingers grew still, becoming a tight grip, digging into your skin through the fabric, tightening a little more each time your heat swallowed him up again, pushing him closer to the edge.

You whimpered and winced at how tight his hold became, hearing his breathing, ragged and heavy, become more labored in time with the strength of his grip and the rhythm of your hips. You thought you heard him growl something gruff and unintelligible into your neck, but in the moment you very well could have imagined it. You were far too distracted to pursue that train of thought though, choosing to rut against Dojima’ more desperately.

All of it, the vice grip of his hands, the labored breathing, and the gruff sounds smothered by your skin, was the precursor to Dojima reaching his climax. Still squelching any stray noises, he finished a low, rumbling groan that made you shiver. His hands held you so tightly as he filled you, they nearly interrupted the slow buck of your hips, and you rocked them with a bit more force.

Everything combined, with the aid of some friction from clever angling of your hips, had put you so to your own release, too. Dojima’s climax was enough to drag you over with him. Your walls fluttered around his length, milking him for all he had left, and making his hips jerk against yours spasmodically for an instant.

A thick silence followed when both of you were spent, falling back into the couch. Again it was the welcoming, almost soothing silence though that added to the moment. Dojima’s head lolled back against the cushions, and you pressed your face into his shoulder, his shirt crumpled from your grasp. You stayed that way for what felt like a long time, your bodies still joined, hot and tired, basking in the afterglow until your breathing returned to normal and your hearts stopped pounding.

You finally eased yourself off him tentatively, feeling overly sensitive, but pleased, hoping he felt the same. “Feel any better?” you whispered in his ear, moving a hand to toy with the short-cropped strands of his graying hair.

His answer was gruff and drained, but not unpleasant. “Exhausted… but better,” he admitted, not bothering to lift his head, his eyes closed.

“Good,” you said, smiling and placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and then another. “I’m gonna get going then, let you get some well-deserved rest. Just make sure you make it to your bed, alright?” you teased, knowing it wouldn’t have been the first time Dojima passed out on the couch; though this in particular was not a proper way to fall asleep there.

You got to your feet, gathering your underwear from the ground and shimmying back into them, smoothing your skirt down. “Call me if you need me to watch Nanako again, alright? Or, you know, if you just want me around,” you said, giving him a joking when he opened his tired eyes and fixed them on you.

“Wait,” Dojima shot up from his boneless position, tucking himself back into his underwear and redoing the catch on his pants. He rose to his feet as well/ “You don’t have to go. You could…” His words lapsed low, muttering almost, as if he were hesitant to speak them loud enough for you to hear, and a cute new flush decorated his cheeks.

“What was that?” you pressed.

“Uh, why don’t you stay the night? With me. It’s late and…” He paused, searching for the words, “I’d appreciate the company.”

The feeling of warmth that welled up in your chest at his hesitant, almost shy request was enough to make you blush, too. “All you had to do was ask,” you confessed, grinning and moving to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pressed a much more chaste kiss to his lips, which he returned just as sweetly. “And I promise I’ll behave and let you sleep,” you joked, sealing your teasing with another kiss.

With that decided, Dojima grabbed the remote off the table, turning off the tv for the evening and tossing it back down, while you grabbed the empty beer cans and moved them to the kitchen. You followed him then to his room, feeling warm and nearly giddy, or as giddy as you could be when you craved sleep.

When the bedroom door closed, you both tiredly discarded most of your clothing, leaving you both in your underthings. Climbing into the bed, you curled up against Dojima, and he draped an arm over your after pulling up the sheets. Snuggled against one another so warmly, made weary from a long day and from the strenuous end to it, the alcohol an extra tip to the scales, it didn’t take long before sleep claimed you, heavy and comforting.

#Writing #Fanfiction #Persona 4 #Ryotaro Dojima #Reader-Insert #Ao3 #Archive of our Own #Fic Friday #NSFT #N/S/F/W

[lettheladylead]

avoid the unhappy ending (ch8)

ships/characters: Goldie, Fergus, Downy, Fethry, Gladstone, Scrooge/Goldie words (ch8): ~1600 summary: Goldie comes to town to see Scrooge. Instead, she somehow manages to run into literally everyone else. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108943/

[1 & 2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Chapter 8 under the cut:

Sneaking over to Scrooge’s study wasn’t an issue. Goldie didn’t hear the sounds of Beakley or any kids moving around, didn’t see Duckworth’s ghost - finally she would just find Scrooge and talk to him for a bit and then leave.

Almost to the study door, Goldie frowned. Maybe she should hang around for a little longer than a bit after all the trouble she’d gone through to find him. But after spending so much time with the family already, just the idea of staying longer felt overwhelming. This was just supposed to be a quick visit, not some celebratory weekend vacation. There was no anniversary, no birthday, she just wanted to say hi.

She took a deep breath and opened the door, smiling brightly in preparation.

And...empty.

Goldie didn’t even bother to look around and check. This was just what she should’ve expected. She walked forward and sat in Scrooge’s desk chair, putting her feet up.

“Scroogey, Scroogey, Scroogey,” Goldie said in a sing-song tone. “Where could you be…”

She looked over the desk, checking out the headers of every paper. Eventually her eyes landed on a calendar, and Goldie excitedly sat up straight and grabbed it, using her pointer finger to find her way to the current date.

Nothing. It was blank. Looks like he had a free Saturday to do whatever he wanted. In this case: running around and avoiding his ex-everything. Or whatever he was calling her these days.

She sighed loudly and plopped her head down on the desk. Why was this so difficult? Was she having a bad day or was she just bad at this suddenly? She rotated her head so her cheek was shoved against the grain, beak tapping on the wood as she considered what to do next. There were so many rooms in this house, and knowing Scrooge...he probably didn’t waste any of them. He had reason to be in literally any room at any time. He could be looking for her by this point. Maybe she should listen to the hummingbird kid and just text him after all.

Goldie grabbed her cell phone out of her pocket and turned on the screen, taking a moment to enjoy her background. It was an old photo of Scrooge she’d taken when he was asleep and he looked particularly cute. He didn’t know about it and probably wouldn’t like the angle, but she could practically hear him snoring when she looked at it long enough.

She had a missed call and two texts she didn’t feel like responding to. What was the point of being on an adventure if she had responsibilities somewhere else?

Just as her thumb slid over to click on her messages, a phone started to ring.

Goldie jumped, not expecting the sound, and quickly scanned the room for the source. Scrooge had a shelf lined with different phones, all labeled, and one of them was ringing loudly.

After the fourth ring with no one coming to answer it, Goldie bit the inside of her cheek and exhaled. She stood up and walked over to the phones, staring at the one that wouldn’t stop ringing.

“Dismal Downs…?” Goldie said softly, trying to remember where she’d heard that name before. It sounded Scottish, for sure. Was it somewhere in Glasgow?

Despite all the traveling she’d done over the years, Goldie had never been to Glasgow. Going there without Scrooge’s invitation felt...wrong. Unlike breaking into his American home, which felt very very right.

Hesitantly, Goldie picked up the phone and held it up to her ear.

“...hello?”

“What?” the voice at the other end said in a thick, barely understandable accent. “Who’s this? The maid?”

“Not even close. Who’s this?”

“This is Fergus McDuck! Where’s Scrooge? His mother’s been waitin’ for him to call and the phone hasnae rang once!”

Goldie smiled. Now she remembered the name Dismal Downs. That’s where Scrooge’s magic immortal castle was keeping his family alive.

“Scrooge isn’t here, but I’ll be sure to let him know his Dear Ol’ Daddy’s upset,” she said smugly, imitating his accent.

The voice on the other end paused. “You’ve got quite the mouth on ya. Who is this?”

She considered, briefly, hanging up and not saying anything. But this was kind of fun. “The name’s Goldie.”

“Ach? Goldie? From Goldieburg?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“I’m sorry - Goldieburg?”

“Aye, Scrooge mentioned a Goldie back when he came to fix up the castle. Is that you?”

She felt an odd flutter thinking that he talked to his parents about her. What was that about? Just complaining? Especially back then...their relationship was still very new. He couldn’t have had many good things to say.

“Probably. I don’t think he knows any other Goldie.”

“Downy!”

“Yes, Fergus?” Goldie could hear a woman’s voice in the distance, similarly accented.

“Scrooge’s wee burd is on the phone!”

“Our Scroogey’s? Does she sound nice?”

“No, not in the least. Probably a good match for our son, then.”

“Oh, Fergus! Don’t be such a grump!”

Goldie wasn’t sure how to react to what she was hearing. They had the wrong idea, but also kind of not the wrong idea. It’s not like she needed to explain the whole situation to them. It’d probably confuse the old folks, or give them a very bad impression of their son.

“Let me talk to her!”

The mother of her long-time rival-slash-love-interest wanted to talk to her?

She hung up, grimacing. That started out funny, but quickly dissolved into too much. They were probably going to make a thousand assumptions that Scrooge would grill her about later. On the plus side, she was definitely going to ask about what the hell Goldieburg meant.

The phone started to ring again and Goldie bolted out of the room. The kids were still nowhere to be seen, it sounded like Beakley was back in the kitchen, and she didn’t feel the presence of any magic or ghosts.

It was time to continue checking the rooms one-by-one, then.

Goldie passed through the foyer, making her way to the other side of the mansion, when the front doorknob started to turn. She eyed the door suspiciously and waited to see who was about to enter. The front hallway wasn’t an ideal spot to greet Scrooge, but she’d take whatever she could get at this point.

The door swung open - it wasn’t locked? - and Goldie raised an eyebrow as she took in the image of the two ducks in front of her.

“I told you it’d be unlocked, Buddy!”

“Boy, Gladstone, when you’re right, you’re right!”

They looked up and made eye contact with Goldie. She stared back, unblinking, trying to figure out who in the world she’d just witnessed breaking into Scrooge’s mansion without breaking a sweat - she was supposed to be the only one who could do that.

The duck in the back smiled and walked forward a few steps, clearly about to say something to Goldie when his eye caught something on the ground. “Hey! Twenty dollars!” He leaned down and grabbed it.

Goldie gaped. How the hell had she not noticed that money? And also… “Wait a second, are you...Gladstone?”

He looked up at her, looked her up and down, and then tapped his beak. “Last time I checked! And you... look vaguely familiar!”

The other duck came up behind him and looked over Goldie as well. “Gladstone...don’t you know who this is?”

“Not at all!” Gladstone said more enthusiastically than necessary.

“This is...Mrs. Beakley!”

“Ooohh -”

“No I am not. ” Goldie crossed her arms over her chest. “Goldie. O’Gilt? And you must be Fethry, then. You two have certainly grown. What are you doing here?”

“Goldie! That’s it!” Gladstone plopped a fist into his open hand for emphasis. “I remember you kidnapping me once!”

She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t a kidnapping. Just...kid-borrowing.”

“Oh, oh! I remember that, too!” Fethry clapped his hands together. “I remember crying very very much.”

“Yes, there was lots of annoying crying,” Goldie said. “But I needed some good luck that day.”

Gladstone shrugged again. “Well, no one else would be able to help with that! And I won so many free pizzas.”

“Donald was so mad he almost tore up my hat!” Fethry laughed for a few seconds, before suddenly stopping and staring out into nothing.

The other two stared at him, expecting him to say something else, but he stayed quiet.

“Right. So, speaking of Donald, where is he?” Gladstone pointed at Goldie. “We’re supposed to be meeting him for lunch!”

“Oh, really?” Goldie asked with a raised eyebrow. “Last time I saw him, he was gardening by the pool. Didn’t look like he had late lunch plans.” She looked up at a nearby clock. “Very late lunch plans.”

“I got lost!” Fethry said with a smile.

“And I didn’t really want to be here,” Gladstone added. “But we have a Della-related surprise to talk about, so!”

She sighed and pointed behind her towards the back of the house. “He’s that way. Just go.”

Gladstone frowned. “That’s a lot of walking.”

“I’ve got you, Gladdy!” Fethry reached over and picked up his cousin, slinging him over his shoulder. “To Donald!”

“To Donald!” Gladstone repeated, happily lounging.

Goldie watched them walk away and sighed. Alright. She was giving up. There was no one left to ask except one person who she knew was just a few steps away. So what was the point in putting it off any longer?

She slowly made her way to the kitchen.

#ducktales #scroldie #goldie o'gilt #fergus mcduck #downy mcduck #downy o'drake #gladstone gander #fethry duck #fic #fics #avoid the unhappy ending

[hayjeon]

Tips on creating fun fanfic headers!

i had so much fun writing the fanfic writing tips yesterday and i got a few more questions about header-making, and so i decided to make one more of these! i hope these tips help somebody out there! hope you enjoy :) 

p.s. these tips won’t require any hard editing skills or photoshop skills, nor any expensive tablets/apps! 

typically i spend around ~5-10 min creating one header, and that’s either after i think of/finish a fic. i have so much fun doing it and sharing it with you that i figured i’d share how i do it! 

why headers? 

as I talked about in my fic tips, one of the most eye-catching things about fics are headers. when i’m scrolling through a rec page, my home page, a tag, or even someone’s masterlist, i’m immediately drawn to well-made headers. that’s what captures my attention, and then i’m more drawn in by the content. so, you can say that headers is your own version of an ad for your own fic, or an extension of it (like the cover of a novel!) 

if you were writing your own book, imagine how much time you’d spend figuring out what you wanted your cover to look like. i try to have as much fun and invest as much time making my own headers because it’s just the cherry on top to my finished product :) 

disclaimer: BUT HEADERS ARE NOT NECESSARY/DO OR DIE! if you don’t feel like you want to do this, then keep writing! its ok! this is just a suggestion. i’ve seen plenty of well-written fics without headers at all, so don’t beat yourself up over not having one/not wanting to do one. this is truly just a fun, extra kind of thing, and only keep reading if you want to learn how i do it! :) 

tips for people who don’t want to make headers: if you still want something to make your fic stand out, use gifs! i use them in my drabbles a lot! this will at least give ur fic a lil boost! 

how to find pictures

I typically use unsplash, which is a free website in which photographers upload their HQ pics for free use. the pics are really high quality, typically stock photos, and don’t have any logos on them like other ones on google. unfortunately, you won’t find any pics of the members or anything, but you’ll find beautiful stock photos of typical scenes like “ocean scene” or “desert scene.” I found the stock photo for cut me open (shown below) on that site by just looking up “medical” or “doctor”. 

i used to use google a lot and just use keywords like “desert scene HQ” and edit the search settings to deliver HQ pics, and a minimum # of pixels, but unplash is definitely better in terms of quality, more aesthetic photos, and no logos/watermarks. 

on some occasions, i will screenshot some scenes of youtube videos, turning up the quality to 1080p or 4k and zooming in so that the pixelation is as crisp as possible, and then editing it later to look good (which i’ll explain in a second!) 

the above photo was a scene from the specific characters from the drama, “100 Days My Prince” that I screenshotted from a youtube video that TvN uploaded, recapping the drama. I cropped it just right so that their faces were left out, which i’ll also mention soon! 

things to look for when picking pictures: 

you want the picture to reflect a specific motif/theme from your fic! if its a moody fic, then try to find a moody scene that you can edit with filters/lighting to look even moodier; or if the characters’ jobs are a big portion of the fic (like cut me open/doctor theme) try to look for stock photos with that shown very clearly!

make sure its high quality: tumblr really dumbs down the quality of the photo when uploading it, so try your best to find something with a lot of pixels in it so that when you start editing, you don’t sacrifice too much of the quality already

try to look for something simple/clean: a picture with too much subject (ie. people in the background, or too much detail) may end up taking away from the main point of your header, which is your title. so find pics without too much clutter! 

try to make sure its landscape: which will help during editing to save some of the quality better. 

editing your pictures

now that you have a specific photo you want to use, now its time to edit! I use VSCO CAM (free app) and my own apple photos cropping tool for faster crops. 

crop/adjust: if your picture is too large/wide, crop it to at least a 16:9 ratio. i’d say aim for skinnier if you can, so that you don’t take up too much space (especially if you’re planning to add headers to your masterlist). also crop out any faces, any clutter, any unnecessary details, so you have a nice, clean slate to work on when adding text. 

contrast/sharpen/clarity/white balance/etc.: i’m not gonna give you a lesson on photography, but i’ll tell you I learned like 80% of everything that i know just by fiddling with it on VSCO! So just try it out and play with the app, see what you can make of it. i’d say a rule of thumb to follow is that you want happier fics with a brighter tone, and moodier/angsty fics with a darker tone so that it can reflect the nature of the fic further, without saying anything! 

if you wanna be extra af like me, then go a step further and photoshop your pics. this one is a good example; when i screenshotted this scene from another youtube video for my fic One Year My Love part 2, i was specifically looking for a scene that would showcase the ornate/regal details of their clothing/environment in contrast to part 1′s modest clothing/scene (the first header in this post). 

i found this scene, but actually, this scene portrays the Crown Prince and the Princess, not y/n. So, the actors weren’t smiling at all! They were actually frowning at eachother in this scene, to portray the tension between the two characters and their marriage. 

So, I took the extra step, adjusting the pic with VSCO so that their shoulders/chins were at the same level, cropped off their faces up until their lips, and then used the adobe photoshop free app to photoshop their lips to be SMILING at eachother!!!! subtle, but important! 

call me crazy for taking that much time but i’m so proud of how it turned out and i loved every second of making this one. that way, this scene makes it portray the happy ending for Jungkook and y/n! 

adding text to your header

you can use any app out there, but i really like Font Candy! I actually ended up buying the 2$ version of this and never regretted it, but you can actually find a lot of their basic fonts on the free version; I tend to use the fonts: OSTRICH SANS, BEBAS, TREND, and INTRO the most! these are pretty clean-looking, block letters that look good whenever i put them as my titles. 

I love this app too cause you can easily control the spacing between letters to make them take up more space, add shadows, or even make them contrast their background using the overlay feature; like this one i made for wildest dreams (see how the text changes depending on what part of the photo its on? amazing! it’s literally with a click of a button!!)

And i’ll always add “written by HAYJEON” or “by HAYEJON”, space it out, and add it somewhere underneath as my own branding.

orrrrrr 

if you want to be more creative, you can even go a step further and use whatever you have on hand to enhance whatever you’re trying to portray. 

for this one, i ended up finding this amazing photo on unsplash and i thought it would do a create job of portraying the “movie-set” quality of what wildest dreams is going to be about. this stock photo had someone else’s names on it, so i used my ipad, and used instagram to just erase the existing writing with the color of the background, and then wrote in my own title and url with my own handwriting/apple pen!!! 

i thought this was pretty cool because it’s like wildest dreams is its own movie/has its own movie set, which, once it’s out, you guys will see that it’s supposed to be! 

saving/uploading

this is pretty easy/obvious, but i figured i’d mention it. all the apps i mentioned are available on the appstore, and they will save directly to your photos. after doing that, i’ll just upload them into a special folder i have on my google drive so that when i’m finished writing a fic on tumblr using my laptop, i can easily download the photos without sacrificing quality. easy! 

and that way, i can save them forever; even if i have to delete them from my computer, i can always redownload them! 

side note: making text separators

i just recently started doing this, but ever since tumblr took down their text separators, i’ve just been cropping the bottom like 5-10 pixels of the header to use as my text separators! (with my laptop)

i saw some other writer doing it and thought that it looked better than what i had used previously (a cropped photo of a random line i found on google); i found that doing this tied my fics together a little better and just looked better aesthetically; 

so there it is! hope you enjoyed! :) i would love to see what other tips you guys have been using, feel free to send me an ask or reply to this post; and if you end up using any of my tips, please let me know! I love to hear from you guys all the time <3 

lots of love, especially during these times, 

hay <3 

#writing tips #story talk

[spicyfloaty]

Give & Take | Chapter 5

pairing: kacchako

genre: slowburn/fluff

words: 2.7k

summary: Ochako's grades are slipping. Bakugo is dangerously nearing suspension, or worse, expulsion. A certain twist of fate pairs them together for tutoring sessions. He teaches her math. She keeps him from getting suspended. A simple exchange, but what if this only brings them closer than necessary?

header credits: @alexbenedetto

[READ ON AO3]

Chapter Four

Chapter Five: Happy?

It was weird seeing Bakugo in class the following week when he didn’t bother showing up to their second session last Friday.

The next day after their first session, Ochako had made a mental note to arrive 15 minutes earlier than the agreed upon time on their schedule, something about the image of Bakugo waiting for her, leaning against the doorway made her feel queasy. She made sure to bring two pens this time, the lingering thought of their fingers brushing past each other somehow made her feel more like she was going to hurl the whirlpool in her stomach into a glittery mess on the floor.

30 minutes pass and Bakugo is nowhere to be seen. That’s fine, it’s not really like him to show up on time, maybe he’s just running late. The 30 minutes that came after was when Ochako started to have second thoughts. Maybe it slipped his mind? It’s okay, we still have an hour to spare. The last hour goes by and Ochako is already out the door, her imagination had made the ground look like Bakugo with that smug look on his face and her angry footsteps were hellbent on stomping it off him. 

Did her little stunt with the eraser manage to piss him off that much somehow? No, this is Bakugo we’re talking about here. If she actually wanted to piss him off, it would take more than a piece of rubber for her to do that. Her thinking led her to the possibility of Bakugo requesting Aizawa for another student to tutor, she was surprised by the slight squeeze in her chest that accompanied the thought. Would he?  

Ochako slams her head onto her desk before her thoughts could go farther. Why should she care if he did? It just so happened that she needed a tutor and he needed a get out of jail free card at the same time, but it wasn’t exactly necessary for them to be what the other needed. He can do whatever he wants. 

It was only after the voices around her come to a standstill when she realized that suddenly ramming her head on her desk wasn’t the best thing to do when her friends were standing a few feet away from her, “Are you okay, Ochako?” Tsuyu asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine! My hand just um...slipped.” Ochako should really stop zoning out into thoughts about Bakugo around her friends. If anything, she should stop thinking about Bakugo in general.

“Are you sure?” Iida checks, “Your head hit the table quite harshly, you might have a concussion!”

Ochako quickly shakes her head and waves her hands in front of her, “No! I’m okay, don’t worry.” She was about to add to Tsuyu’s topic prior to the sudden interruption her head had made, when Todoroki decided to shift the conversational spotlight onto her, “How was your tutoring session with Bakugo?”

“Good!” She replies almost instinctively, her voice pitching a bit too high for someone who was trying to convince everyone that she was telling the truth. She was though, telling the truth. Their first session had already shown significant results, though it technically only lasted an hour thanks to a certain someone’s silent treatment and the bickering that followed it. The only thing that could turn her remark into a lie was the fact that he didn’t show up the second time around.

Ochako notices the confused looks on her friends’ faces, probably because she answered in such lightning speed, “We, um, it went well.” She adds. Way to go describing it in perfect detail, Ochako.

Everyone seemed to be satisfied with her detailed explanation except for Tsuyu, “Bakugo?”

Ochako almost face-palms herself, but Iida didn’t need more reasons to have Recovery Girl assess her for possible concussions. She had completely forgotten that Tsuyu didn’t know about her situation with Bakugo yet, she hadn't exactly asked about it, let alone brought it up whenever they were hanging out in her room, so she never had the chance to tell her.

“Yeah,” she confirms, “he’s been tutoring me.”

“Since when?”

“Last week,” She doesn't know what came over her, but she decides to paint a better picture for them, “We had a hard time...cooperating at first, but after um--hashing it out, we eventually started to get things done and I feel like it’s helped me improve so far.” She intentionally leaves out the part about her outburst and the singular desk they shared during the whole ordeal, they don’t need to know about that.

Deku was in the middle of asking a question when they hear Bakugo’s booming voice from the other end of the classroom, “Fucking drop it already, dunce face.”

Instead of doing as he says, Kaminari slings an arm around Bakugo, “I don’t know Bakugo, you were in such a rush to bail on us last week, you didn’t even tell us where you were going!” He says tauntingly.

Two questions spring inside Ochako’s head, the first one being: If he were in such a hurry to go to the first one why not bother showing up the next day? And the second one being: So his friends never asked about his meeting with Aizawa? Or did he just not tell them about her?

“All of you can fuck right off.” Bakugo spits, forcefully shrugging off Kaminari’s arm, only for it to be replaced by Kirishima’s.

“Come on, man, why were you in such a hurry to leave us so soon?” He pouts, bringing his free hand to his chest to make it seem like it was wounded by Bakugo’s actions. Kirishima also hits Bakugo’s vicious glare with the full force of his puppy dog eyes.

Sero joins the party, placing his hands on top of Bakugo’s head for his chin to rest on, Ochako couldn’t help but be amazed by the sheer bravery these three had,“You hiding something from us?” He teases, grinning at Bakugo from above.

Bakugo looked like he was three seconds away from exploding, “Another word and I beat all three of you to the fucking ground.” He growls behind gritted teeth.

Just when she thought those three were fearless, Mina approaches the lot with a devilish smile twisted on her lips, “I heard Bakugo was with a certain lady.” She points out in a sing-song voice, elongating the last syllable of her sentence.

A chorus of gasps and howls, the latter mostly coming from Kirishima, fill the room and Ochako doesn’t know if her face grew two shades pinker or just got completely devoid of all color at the implication Mina was trying to push. Sure, he was with her, a lady, during that time, but it wasn’t anything like what she was making it out to be. Bakugo and her? Please.

“I don’t have time for this shit.” Bakugo lifts himself from his seat but the three thorns on his side were quick enough to block his way. Kirishima stands in the forefront of the three-man barrier and even hardens himself in the event that Bakugo does stay true to his word, which was to, and she quotes, beat all three of them to the ground.

“No way we’re letting you go when you’ve been out here bailing on us to fool around with this lady you’ve never mentioned before,” Kirishima says as a matter-of-factly.

“You three fuckwipes have a deathwish or something?” Bakugo snarls. Ochako couldn’t agree more, these three were just asking for it.

“Nah,” Kirishima smirks, “Sero, tie him up.”

“You fucking assho--!” Sero gives Bakugo a little push back to his seat before trapping him in his chair with several layers of tape, “Tell us who she is or we ask Mina instead.” Kirishima threatens.

It’s almost a miracle that Bakugo’s chair doesn’t tip over from him trying to escape in order to accomplish the sentence he roars next, “I’ll fucking kill all of you!”  

“Not talking, eh?” Kaminari’s arms rest on his hips as he turns to Kirishima, “What now, boss?”

“Mina who’s th--Woah!” Sero starts to ask, but it takes all the effort for him to successfully maintain his tapes’ hold on Bakugo from breaking, “Mina, who’s the girl?” Kirishima finishes for him as he turns to Mina, the dirty look on her face only growing more sinister by the second.

“Dont you fucking dare, raccoon eye s.” Bakugo hisses, still trying to pry himself off of Sero’s grasp.

“I don’t wanna expose anyone here so let’s just call her by the name of…” Mina pretends to think about it for a moment, only for a sickening smile to sneak its way onto her face, “OCHAKO URARAKA!”

Everyone's eyes were instantly on her except for Bakugo’s and she begins to wish for that concussion Iida was talking about not too long ago. She’d much rather be in the care of the school’s sweetheart of a nurse than to be in the presence of her classmates’ inquisitive stares and suggestive smiles. She’d follow Bakugo’s example of getting out of here as quick as possible, but it was too late for that. Instead, she hides behind the palms of her hands, hoping for either death or unconsciousness.

Bakugo’s aversion doesn’t go unnoticed by his friends, “So it is true!” Kaminari declares.

“Why don’t you come over here and find out, dunce face?” Bakugo breathes out, seething with malice, “Raccoon eyes already told you didn’t she? So there’s no need for me to be tied up now is there, flat face?” he turns to Sero, a menacing smile filled with homicidal intent twists in his lips.

Sero audibly gulps, “Uh, I don’t know about that, man, you look like you’re just about ready to tear us apart limb from limb.”

“FUCKING RIGHT I WI--” Another piece of tape slaps itself on Bakugo’s mouth.

“Wait! There’s more!” Mina hurriedly adds while jumping excitedly at the extra piece of gossip she’s been holding out on, “I heard from Hagakure, who heard from Jirou, who heard from Momo, who heard from Todoroki that he was also tutoring her! How adorable is that?”

Ochako instantly whips her head towards Todoroki’s direction at the mention of his name, she was already puzzled by the fact that this information had spread like wildfire in such a short period of time, but she never expected the root cause of it to be Todoroki.

Todoroki looked as shocked as Ochako was, it seemed that he was also hearing this for the first time, “She did?” He asks cluelessly.

Momo turns to him, “We were going over last week’s homework and you mentioned that Bakugo and Uraraka were probably doing the same thing during that time.” she explains as if she was teaching a toddler how to spell.

Todoroki stares at his desk for a moment before the memory of that conversation clicks in his head, “Oh.” He turns to face Ochako, “My apologies.”

Before anyone could react or say anything else, Mr. Aizawa enters the classroom. Everyone returns to their seats just in the nick of time. His attention immediately focuses on Bakugo, still very much tied to his chair, muffled profanities coming from the piece of tape still plastered on his mouth.

Mr. Aizawa sighs, “I’m not even going to ask.”

---

Ochako caught up with her friends in the hallway after class, her head still spinning from all the new lectures along with the entire gossip-fueled-dumpster-fire of an ordeal just a few hours ago. Her thoughts drift back to the two questions that had sprung inside her head a while ago, Why didn’t he tell them that this thing between them was mandatory? It’s not like he was the one who offered to tutor her, contrary to popular belief.

Judging by his behavior and overall reactions under the prying questions of his friends, she assumes that maybe Bakugo just wasn’t the kind of person who would open up to anybody so easily, even to his friends. He would have to tell them about his situation with his conduct and how close he was to getting suspended or even expelled if he were to say that their sessions were only pre-arranged and not voluntary. She didn’t think that Bakugo would like to be the center of everyone’s worry, or worse, pity.

Somehow, she understood where Bakugo was coming from. She was practically doing the same thing by hiding her father’s injury and part-time job from her friends for nearly the same reasons. With this understanding, she taps Todoroki on the shoulder, “Todoroki? Is it okay if you try to be careful next time and not mention the meeting with Aizawa to anyone else?”

She turns to Iida and Deku, “The same goes for both of you too.”

“I would like to apologize for my mistake once more,” Todoroki starts, “it was not my place to disclose that to Yaoyorozu.” he says with utmost sincerity.

“Of course, Midoriya and I will also keep that mind.” Iida adds.

“Why though? If you don’t mind me asking,” Deku interjects, “Is everything alright with Kacchan?”

“Yes, it’s just that,” Ochako tries her best to answer him without looking at him directly, “it’s not my place to say, but I think it’s important to just keep it to ourselves for now, okay?”

“Okay.” Deku says reassuringly. Her eyes meet his for a brief moment when she spots a familiar mop of blonde hair behind him, she turns to Iida, “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up and meet you guys at the cafeteria.”

She swiftly walks past Deku, making her way towards Bakugo, “Bakugo!”

His head snaps back, piercing, red eyes locking her in place again, “What?” He barks. Guess she wasn’t the only one with that ordeal still on the back of their head. She stops right in front of him, suddenly forgetting what she was about to say, so she just blurts out the first thought from the top of her head, “Sorry about what happened a while ago.”

His eyebrows furrow, gaze still boring holes into her skull, “And what the hell are you apologizing for?”

“Well,” Her eyes avoid his gaze, “I should’ve said something back there.” She could have ended any sort of implication that the two of them were a thing had she only spoken up about it before it got out of hand.

He lifts an eyebrow, “Like what?”

“Well for starters, the fact that we aren't dating.” She points out.

“Tch, that’s pretty obvious.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest.

“That’s not what they thought a while ago.” She retorts, folding her arms on her chest this time. She wasn’t about to let Bakugo intimidate her, two can play this game.

“Who cares what they think?” Bakugo spits, “If you want to tell them, then go right ahead, but if you’re just gonna waste my time bitching about something you can do yourself, I suggest you fucking beat it, round face.” His glare sends shivers down her spine, How is he so good at that?

Ochako sighs, “Nevermind,” then finally remembering the reason why she approached him in the first place, “I came here to talk about last Friday.”

“What about it?” He snaps.

She narrows her eyes at him, “You know what.”

“I just missed one day, round face, missed me already?” That smug look that she hated so much makes its way into his face again, the corner of his mouth twisting into a punchable grin.

She couldn’t roll her eyes far enough in response to that, “I sat there for two hours waiting for you.” She places both hands on her hips before she gives into the growing urge to punch him, “Where were you?”

“I don’t remember it being your business to know where I am and how I spend my time.” He retorts.

She throws her hands up in frustration, “It is my business since you’re the one who stood me up!” She instantly feels the eyes of the students passing by land on her. Ochako’s face flushes at how she phrased her words. She won’t be able to blame them if they thought that what they just saw was a couple in the middle of a heated argument and to make matters more suggestive, she adds, “It’s like you’re not even serious about this!”

Bakugo looks at her dead in the eyes when he says, “I am serious.”

An exasperated sigh escapes his lips as he raked his fingers through the blonde knotts of his hair, “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”

“Try me.”

Bakugo’s eyes darted away as he spoke, “My mom was sick,” he began, his hand reaching for the back of his neck, “I went home to cook for the old hag.”

Ochako just stands there, feeling stupider with every passing second. A surge of guilt floods her as she imagined Bakugo taking care of his mother while she was at school, pretending that the floor was his face and before she could apologize, Bakugo interupts her, “And before your dumbass apologizes, she’s okay now.” He looks away once more, eyes focused on the ground as he turns away, “You got your answer, now scram.”

“Wait!” She catches his sleeve before he could get any farther.

Red eyes, blazing with burning inferno meet hers, “What now?!”

“Can I get your number?” She hastily asks.

The creases on his forehead disappear and the flickers of flame inside his eyes dim to a look of complete and utter confusion, “Two minutes ago, you said we weren’t dating.”

She immediately lets go of his sleeve, quickly shaking both hands in front of her, “No! Not like that ! It’s so we’d have some sort of way to let each other know when something like that comes up again!”

Bakugo studies her for a while, “What if I said no?”

Ochako’s face gawks at him, “You wouldn’t.” She regretted it the moment she said it when she saw the glint of competitiveness in his eyes. She should’ve known better than to tell Bakugo Katsuki what he could and couldn’t do.

He grins, “Watch me.”

Ochako missed the opportunity to grab onto his sleeve again as he disappeared into the sea of students beginning to flood the hallway. A knot forms in the pit of her stomach. An unpleasant, annoying, borderline infuriating knot with Bakugo’s name written all over it.

It’s not until she receives a text from an unknown number hours later, during her shift at work that this knot comes undone, sending a wave of relief flurry inside her veins and maybe just a few butterflies in her gut.

Unknown Number: Happy?

Another text follows immediately after.

Mina: GIRL BAKUGO JUST ASKED ME FOR YOUR NUMBER !!!!!!!

#kacchako #kacchako fic #kacchako fanfiction #kacchako fluff #kacchako slowburn #kacchako week #kacchako week 2020 #bakuraka #bakuraka week #ao3 #ao3 kacchako #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x uraraka #mha ochako #urakara ochako #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha

[thefabytm]

Will Your Next Smartphone be a Xiaomi? S20 FE 5G vs Mi 10T!

I must start off by saying WOW. Just a few short years ago, I wouldn't have dared to compare a pretty high end Samsung device to any Xiaomi phone. Here we are though, it's 2021, Huawei is pretty much out of the picture given that their phones don't have access to the Google services, Samsung makes great phones, but are usually quite pricey and Xiaomi isn't focused on making only cheap, budget smartphones anymore. Although not available worldwide, the Mi 10 Ultra, which takes every spec and brings it to the max is Xiaomi's way of giving us a sneak peak into what the future holds when it comes to their high end phones.

We are going to divide this comparison into 6 categories: Design, Screen, UI, Performance, Camera and finally, which one deserves your hard earned cash the most? If you're only interested in a specific, feel free to jump to that section through the video progress bar.

Ok, so first of all, the design and quality of the phones. This one is pretty easy, with Samsung you can feel that some corners were cut in order to bring the price down, we have seen this happening with most flagship killers. The back is made out a hybrid material, something that Samsung calls glasstic, but really, it feels like matte plastic. On the Mi 10T, we have Gorilla glass 5 not just on the front, but also on the back with this mirror-like effect. Also, the color of the back shifts from dark grey to almost silver, depending on the light. The frame is made out of aluminium on both, which is to be expected, but overall, the design of the S20 FE is just uninspiring. From the plain camera bump, to the larger bezels, I just don't think the S20 FE takes the crown when it comes to design. The bezels on this phone are slightly larger than on the predecessor, the Galaxy S10 Lite, so I can't say I'm pleased with this. Although the bezels aren't really slim on the Mi 10T either, when holding the phone, you can feel that the materials are of much higher quality, mostly because of the back. The camera bump is more pronounced but at least more interesting than just throwing 3 cameras in column and making the bump much wider than necessary. I must mention, this is not a 4 camera system, as the holes would lead you to believe, one of them is there just for the sake of symmetry. I will say though, the Mi 10T is quite a bit heavier than the S20 FE, a bit larger, mostly because of the larger screen and about a milimeter thicker, so if you appreciate thin & light, the Mi 10T might not be for you. If these things don't bother you, the Mi 10T is an absolute winner, being much closer to flagship territory than the S20FE, when it comes to the design.

Things are going to get a lot more interesting now, let's talk about the screens. On paper, the screen of the Mi 10T might look like the winner. After all, it's larger, coming in at 6.67 inches instead of 6.5 inches and it has an impressive 144Hz refresh rate, rather than 120Hz. There's a catch though, the screen on the Mi 10T is an IPS LCD panel, unlike the Samsung which has an AMOLED screen. This right here is a significant difference and the sole reason why the screen on the Mi 10T is not as good as it could be. Blacks are not as deep as on the AMOLED, because of the backlighting, the refresh rate isn't as impressive as it sounds on paper, because of the high response time, which looks like ghosting if you pay attention. I'm not sure it would've fit the budget, but I can honestly say a 90Hz AMOLED screen would've been the better choice, instead of going all out on the refresh rate but not feeling this benefit because of the LCD panel. Because of the LCD panel, it also means that you are missing out on Always on functionality, but this is the smallest of drawbacks, if you ask me. On the other side, with the Samsung, it's the usual AMOLED with really saturated colors. If you switch colors from vivid to to normal, the colors become too washed out, much more than I'm used to on my iPhone. What I ended up doing is using vivid mode with the blue light filter activated. I'm sure color accuracy suffers because of this, but at least the screen looks closer to what I'm used to.

Next up, we'll discuss the UIs, because it's an important category. This does come down to personal preference though, so what I'll do is tell you what each one can do and any drawbacks that they may have. Let's start off with Samsung, this S20 FE 5G rocks One UI 3 on top of Android 11 and to be honest, Samsung has got their stuff together when it comes to UIs. I get updates quite frequently and will continue to get Android updates until Android 13, Samsung has their own identity now, I like their browser better than Chrome. Also something great that Samsung did for one-handed use is using these large headers at the top, which disappears when scrolling, but mean that you can easily access the buttons when opening the app. Samsung's dedicated one-handed mode is elegant and can be adjusted so the screen shrinks to exactly the size you need. As far as bugs and glitches go, I can happily say that I haven't experienced none and the interface is smooth. On the Mi 10T we have MIUI 12 running on top of Android 10, so we're starting off already with an older version of Android, but this should be updated to Android 11 at some point, hopefully... MIUI feels a bit snappier and it has a lot of great looking notifications, maybe a bit overdone, but it cheers me up seeing stuff happening instead of the boring notifications we all got used to. I like the fact that I can get to the quick settings panel through a single swipe on the right side of the screen instead of two swipes on Samsung. The video toolbox is extremely useful as it lets you listen podcasts on Android with the screen closed. It's not all rosy though, the phone app is for example the stock android one and the UI elements just don't seem MIUI-like, the background of the app is blueish, whereas all the other apps are black because I have dark mode on. Sometimes, an app I use frequently, cellmapper is stuck open and the only way to close it is by force-closing. I am happy to report, though that there are no ads here. In the end, it comes down to personal preference, if you like your phone to be more animated, you'll like MIUI, if you want a more sober experience, go with One UI.

Performance wise, not much to say, both are at the flagship level, given the Snapdragon 865 equipped by both. 6GB of RAM on both, as these are the base models, MIUI seems to be a bit more aggressive with RAM management but this can be tweaked on a per-app basis, so your most used apps aren't going to get closed. I'm impressed that I don't feel the change in the refresh rate on the Xiaomi, as it is adaptive, it's smooth all throughout. One thing I like about the Xiaomi is the side mounted fingerprint reader, it's blazing fast, much faster than any phone I've used so far. With the on screen fingerprint sensor on the S20 FE, I almost always struggle to get it to unlock, it's harder to keep your finger stationary on glass and it seems to have a hard time reading my finger. Overall, I'll give this to the Mi 10T, the fingerprint scanner tips the scale in its direction for sure.

Cameras are a category where sometimes you can really feel that corners were cut. In this case, the Mi 10T doesn't have a telephoto camera, Xiaomi choosing to offer a 5MP macro lens, which although miles better than the 2 MP, it still doesn't come anywhere close to the telephoto when it comes to usefulness. The main camera is a 64MP shooter on the Mi 10T, using pixel binning to get 16MP photos, whereas on the Samsung we have a 12MP sensor. Overall, both take good shots, with the Xiaomi having more details, but losing out on dynamic range and in low light conditions, which is why I'll give this one to Samsung. The Mi 10T shoots 8k video, but that's a gimmick, as there is no video stabilisation at 8k, so you'll most likely end up shooting 4k to get usable video.

So, now the final question. Which one should you get? Well, here's the deal, both of these smartphones are great, but for the price difference, $699 vs about $499, it's hard to justify the price of the Samsung. Yes, the camera is better on the Samsung, but on the other hand, the design on the Mi 10T is higher quality than on the Samsung. I can only recommend the S20 FE if you want an all-around better camera system, partly due to the telephoto, partly due to better dynamic range and low light capabilities or if you absolutely can't live without OLED, though I'd recommend checking it out in real life before making the call. If the camera's not your main focus, spare the money and get the better looking, higher quality built Mi 10T.  

Mi 10T (US): https://amzn.to/3bpXrlq

Mi 10T (UK): https://amzn.to/2NXvfi4

S20 FE 5G (US): https://amzn.to/3pKokpC

S20 FE 5G (UK): https://amzn.to/2ZKs67C

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