welcome babes!

|| adult <3 || she/her and they/them || asexual/demi-romantic/cassgender || here to have fun ||

[captainsbaby]

please read this!

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you can call me ace.

there will be some dark content on this blog and it will have proper indicators.

there will be some nsfw posts here and those posts will be tagged accordingly.

i will block you if you become mean or agressive with me. if you do not like what i post (or dont post), feel free to block me or my tags.

:>

[mintmatcha]

"i dont have any kinks" bf x the girlfriend whos about to turn him into her own personal pervert

[tired-biscuit]

bumping into your really nice alpha neighbour in the hallway (who you’ve been on again off again flirting with for weeks now), but squeaking out a little “sorry!” while having to rudely push past him so that you can get into your apartment before your heat gets out of control

vs

him being unable to resist following after you the second you scurry upstairs, every step he takes now getting a little more urgent, his blood hotter, until he’s pacing in front of your door, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth; trying everything in his power to keep himself from knocking because the way he is moving now reminds him of a predator and he doesn’t like it - he’s nice, goddammit, he’s nice

[thisiscareless]

only bought this dress so you could take it off.

adult zuko x reader | contains smut | minors dni.

Summary: in which a very inconvenient royal gathering, one persuasive Katara, and a suspicious blue drink lead you to realize you and the fire lord are definitely not just friends anymore.

Content: adult!zuko x reader, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol use, mutual pining, humor, tension, a bath scene, lowkey ‘dress’ by taylor swift inspo but i got carried away.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

You hadn’t expected to be invited.

The Fire Lord had begun (reluctantly, and under considerable pressure) his search for a Fire Lady. Or, as the council so bluntly put it, the future bearer of his heirs. Despite his many objections, delays, and carefully constructed excuses, the royal council had finally insisted on a solution: a formal gathering. A carefully curated event where daughters of noble families and valued allies of the Fire Nation would be presented, each given the opportunity to earn his favor.

You knew better than anyone that it was, in every possible way, not Zuko’s style.

Your visits to the palace had become frequent enough that the guards barely questioned your presence anymore, and among your friends, you were the only one who never seemed eager to leave. You had seen him in moments the council never would: tired, frustrated, quietly resistant to everything they were trying to force onto him.

Which was exactly why the invitation in your hands felt so… wrong.

Katara had been beside you when it arrived, and her reaction had been immediate. A delighted gasp, followed by barely contained excitement over what she insisted on calling your long-standing crush on Zuko.

A perfectly reasonable- and, you would argue, entirely manageable- crush. Because more than anything, he was your friend.

“Maybe it’s a mistake,” you said quickly, already trying to dismiss it. “My family isn’t noble. We live on the outskirts of the capital. I shouldn’t even be on this list.”

“Or,” Katara countered, eyes lighting up, “he did it on purpose. Maybe he realized he likes you, and this is his way of making it official!”

You huffed softly. “If that were true, he could have just asked me to come. Not… include me with everyone else.”

There was a flicker of something in your voice closer to disappointment than you cared to admit, and Katara didn’t miss it.

She crossed the room in an instant, already digging through your wardrobe before pulling out a garment you hadn’t touched since Ba Sing Se. “Either way, you’re wearing this,” she declared, holding it up with a grin. “You looked beautiful when you tried it on. He’s going to lose his mind! Honestly, I wish I could be there to see it.”

You hesitated, your arms crossing as your gaze settled on the dress you had been saving for an occasion that had never come.

“I’m not wearing that,” you said after a moment. “In fact, I’m not going at all.”

Katara raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just a good friend,” you added.

She studied you for a second, then softened slightly. “He knows I’ll be traveling with Toph to visit Aang,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe he just… wants someone he trusts there.”

You raised your eyebrows.

She stepped closer, gently pressing the dress into your hands. “A good friend wouldn’t let him face that alone, would she?”

You exhaled slowly.

She was persuasive. Annoying, but persuasive.

And, unfortunately, right. Not just about the quality of friend you were.

About the dress, too.

The fabric was a deep, smoldering red, layered with sheer silk that shifted like flame when it moved. Gold threading traced delicate patterns along the bodice (subtle, but unmistakably Fire Nation in design) while the neckline dipped just enough to feel daring without crossing into impropriety. The sleeves were light, almost weightless, leaving your arms free, and the skirt fell in soft, flowing panels that caught the light with every step.

You didn’t belong to the court, but you certainly didn’t fade into it either.

Heads turned as you stepped further into the room, the hum of conversation continuing around you, and standing there, surrounded by a sea of people, you realized… maybe Zuko wasn’t the only one who was going to faint.

He stood across the room, mid-conversation with an attendant, a glass held loosely in his hand.

And spirits, he had never looked like that before.

Zuko was dressed in full Fire Lord regalia, layers of deep crimson and black falling sharply along his frame, embroidered with gold that caught the light like flickering fire. The high collar framed his face, emphasizing the sharp line of his jaw, while the structure of the robes did nothing to hide the strength beneath them- broad shoulders, a straight posture that spoke of both discipline and quiet power. His hair was pulled back neatly, though a few strands had come loose, softening him in a way that made him look less like a ruler and more like him.

Like the boy you knew before he’d redeemed himself, and now the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

His gaze found you in an instant.

Without thinking, you lifted your hand in a small wave, instinctive and almost private (except it wasn’t). You noticed the women gathered nearby begin to murmur among themselves, one of them smiling as if that look had been meant for her.

If only she knew.

You tried to weave your way through the crowd, intent on reaching him, when the hem of your dress was suddenly tugged back by someone stepping on it.

“Excuse me, I need to speak with the Fire- oh.” The woman turned, recognition lighting her face. “It’s you. Aren’t you… a friend of his?”

“I…” Your eyes flickered past her, catching sight of Zuko already being drawn into yet another conversation, this time with a different woman. “…am. Yes.”

“I thought this event was reserved for nobility,” she continued, her gaze traveling over you with thinly veiled judgment. “Shouldn’t you be off fighting alongside the Avatar or something, instead of trying to fit into places like this?”

Before you could answer, a hand- one you would recognize anywhere- rested lightly on your shoulder.

“Lady Renmei,” Zuko said smoothly, stepping into place beside you. “I wasn’t aware your invitation had been approved.”

She immediately bowed. “It was, Fire Lord, and it is an honor to—”

“In fact,” he cut in gently, though his tone left no room for argument, “I believe it has just been revoked.”

He smiled politely in response to her shocked expression.

“This gathering is not intended for those who lack basic courtesy. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

You had to press your lips together to keep from laughing as an attendant swiftly escorted her away.

The moment she disappeared from view, you turned back to him, your amusement impossible to conceal. You lifted your hand, and he met it with a quick, faintly smug tap. Small enough to go unnoticed by anyone else.

“So this is why the Fire Lord can’t find a Fire Lady,” you murmured. “You charm them straight out the door.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “If that were true, I might actually be grateful for all of this. I could dismiss them quicker.”

He shifted beside you, his gaze moving briefly over the crowd. “This whole process is exhausting.”

“Have you, though?” you asked, glancing up at him. “Found someone?”

He rolled his eyes- completely undisguised, and very much not befitting a Fire Lord. “Not even close. I never intended to. But they insisted, and I was obligated to at least try, remember?”

“They’re going to be disappointed,” you said lightly. “Good luck with that.”

“Perhaps not,” he replied, quieter now.

You didn’t quite understand what he meant. He had stepped closer without you noticing, the warmth of him unmistakable now, radiating through the space between you.

“I’m glad you came,” he added. “I thought you might leave with Katara and Toph.”

So Katara had been right.

Again.

You took the untouched glass he offered, still warm from his hand. The brief contact sent a quiet spark through you, one you tried very hard to ignore.

“I just thought you might need some support,” you said. “And I am a good friend, aren’t I?”

Zuko stilled.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, as if weighing your words more carefully than they deserved. “I—“

“Fire Lord Zuko,” a nobleman interrupted, stepping forward. “Allow me to present my daughter….”

“Of course,” Zuko replied, the politeness returning instantly, though you could hear the effort behind it.

Before he turned away, he glanced back at you briefly. You dipped into a small, proper bow.

“Duty calls, Fire Lord.”

He nodded before turning away, though you could have sworn there had been something else in his eyes, almost like disappointment.

You drifted toward a quieter side of the hall, where a long table had been arranged with Fire Nation desserts- glazed fruits, delicate pastries, and warm, spiced sweets you had grown far too fond of over the years. Beside them, trays of drinks shimmered under the light.

You paused there, looking over them, unsure.

“You do not seem very happy.”

Uncle Iroh’s voice was unmistakable, even in a room this full as it carried warmth all its own.

You turned instantly, a smile breaking through as you stepped forward to embrace him. He laughed softly, returning it.

“What troubles you, my dear?” he asked, studying you with that same knowing gentleness. “Are you not enjoying the gathering?”

You let out a quiet huff, your shoulders dropping just slightly. “I would… if I could spend it the way I want. With who I want,” you admitted.

His smile deepened, thoughtful rather than amused.

You had known him long enough to trust that look,, ever since those quiet afternoons in his tea shop in Ba Sing Se, where advice had come as easily as the tea itself.

“Don’t you have a tea for this?” you added.

“Oh, my dear,” he said, folding his hands behind his back, “tea can calm the heart, but it cannot decide for it. When your path feels uncertain, it is often because you are standing at the edge of a choice you already know you must make.”

You stilled slightly at that. After a moment, he picked up a glass from the table, filled with a soft, blue liquid and offering it to you.

“But in your case,” he added with a small, knowing smile, “tea may not be enough.”

You took the glass, and the evening seemed to blur pleasantly after that.

Time slipped through your fingers. You danced with Uncle Iroh, spoke with him longer than you meant to, and drank just a little more than you probably should have. The music softened, the laughter grew warmer, and for once, your thoughts stopped circling back to him.

At least… not as often.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Iroh, I shall return with more!” you promised, already stepping away. He laughed, clearly delighted by your company.

You were scanning the room for another tray of that same blue drink when your footing faltered, and before you could fall, a pair of strong hands caught you.

“Whoops!” you laughed, looking up. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your Fire Lordness—spirits! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.” Your hands slid to his arms without hesitation. “You look amazing, did you know that?”

Heat rushed to his face almost instantly.

Zuko steadied you carefully, his grip firm but controlled, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what you might do next. He glanced toward a nearby attendant. “Clear the area, tell everyone to leave,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle this.”

“Yes, Fire Lord,” the attendant replied, already moving. “Good luck with your friend.”

“Handle what?” you asked, slipping your arm through his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Who’s your friend? Have you already chosen someone?”

“You are my friend,” he said, a little more quickly than intended, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked you over. “And what, exactly, did my uncle give you?”

You followed his gaze across the room, spotting Iroh near the drinks, happily waving in your direction.

“A great piece of advice, of course,” you said, as if that explained everything. “You should try it- you look like you need it. Oh! There it is!”

You reached for another tray, grabbing it entirely from a passing attendant before Zuko could stop you.

“You’ve had more of those?” he asked, incredulous now, guiding you gently, but firmly, away from the crowd.

“Yes,” you said brightly. “It’s better than tea.”

“That’s… not reassuring.”

He led you through the edge of the hall, away from the music and the watching eyes, into a quieter corridor lined with warm lantern light. Guards straightened at his approach, but he dismissed them with a brief gesture before opening a set of doors and guiding you inside.

You stepped in—

and stilled.

You weren’t in the gathering anymore. You were in Zuko’s chambers.

The space was quieter, warmer than the rest of the palace, lit by low, steady firelight that flickered softly along the walls. Rich fabrics in deep reds and golds framed the room, but there was something more personal beneath it- less ceremonial and more lived-in. A low table rested near the center, scattered with scrolls and maps, some half-unrolled as if he had left them mid-thought. His armor stood carefully arranged near one wall, not displayed, but ready. And just beyond it, his bed… simple in structure, but softened by layered blankets and dark silk.

You turned slowly, taking it all in, your gaze lingering just a moment too long on the details that felt so familiar, so Zuko.

The quiet click of the door pulled you back. You turned, still holding the tray, and found him watching you. There was something uncertain in his expression, almost disbelieving but warmer than anything he had allowed himself to show in the hall.

“So this is where you rest…” you said, stepping further into the room, your fingers brushing lightly along the edge of a table as you passed. “Very appropriate.”

A small smile found its way onto his lips, and he ran a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristically shy gesture that didn’t quite belong to the Fire Lord.

“I wasn’t sure where else to take you so I could—” he paused, searching for the right words, “—make sure you were alright. Forgive me if this is… improper.”

“Does your chamber have a bath?” you asked suddenly, interrupting him as you turned back, your tone light but earnest. “I really need one. May I?”

He blinked, caught off guard, then nodded, still a little speechless as he gestured toward a door tucked into the corner of the room.

You smiled, placing the tray into his hands before lifting one of the glasses and finishing it in a single motion. “Don’t get rid of these,” you added, already moving. “I love them. You should try one- here!”

You pressed another glass into his hand, ignoring the way he eyed it with suspicion.

“Oh, come on, don’t be boring, flameo hotman,” you teased, stepping backward toward the door. “I expect that glass to be empty when I come out.”

The bathing chamber was warm the moment you entered, the air thick with rising steam and the faint scent of heated stone. Fire Nation design carried through here as well- dark red tiles, polished to a soft sheen, lined the floor and walls, while narrow vents along the edges released controlled heat, keeping the space comfortably hot.

At the center sat a large sunken bath, carved from smooth stone, wide enough to fit several people at once. Thin streams of heated water flowed continuously into it from sculpted spouts, the surface rippling gently under the glow of low lanternlight.

The warmth settled into your skin almost instantly. You exhaled, already beginning to undo your dress, fingers working quickly at the fastenings hidden along the side. The fabric clung stubbornly, resisting your efforts far more than it had any right to.

You tried again.

And again.

A quiet huff escaped you.

‘Please don’t do it. Please don’t do it’, a voice in your mind insisted.

You hesitated for only a second.

“Zuko!” you called, the sound echoing softly against the stone. “Could you—” you paused, then committed, “—come help me, please?”

You weren’t entirely sure he had heard you, so you considered calling again. You weren’t drunk, you knew that, but you were certainly something. Enough to say things you normally wouldn’t, and to let thoughts slip past the careful filter you always kept in place around him.

“What can I help you with?”

His voice came from the doorway.

You turned slightly.

Firebenders… if only the heat affected him the way it affected you. You would have given anything to see those layers gone from him, just once.

“My dress,” you said, turning your body so he could see the fastening along your side. “I need you to undo it. The blue drink isn’t exactly helping.”

A faint pout tugged at your lips.

Color rose to his cheeks almost instantly.

“I—yes—of course,” Zuko stammered, clearing his throat as he stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him.

He approached carefully like each step required more thought than it should have. His hands hovered for a brief moment before finally settling at the fastening of your dress.

Warmth creeped through your body. Not from the room, from him.

His fingers worked slowly, deliberately, undoing each tie with care, though the occasional brush of his knuckles against your skin sent a quiet shiver down your spine. He was focused- too focused on the task, as if looking anywhere else would be a mistake.

Once the dress loosened enough to slip from your shoulders, he stepped back immediately, turning away from you altogether.

“What are you—?” you began, then stopped, understanding settling in. “Oh. Thank you for your help. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

The words lingered in the air longer than you intended. He didn’t move.

“I think I should,” he said after a moment, still facing away. “You’re not exactly steady, and I’d rather not have you slipping into my bath unattended.”

You smiled to yourself, the fabric already on the floor, and stepped into the water.

The heat wrapped around you instantly, sinking into your skin, easing tension you hadn’t realized you carried- but it wasn’t the same. Not like his touch.

Not like the warmth of his hands, careful and grounding, lingering far longer in your mind than it had on your skin.

You exhaled softly, settling into it.

“You can turn around now.”

He did, slowly, as if giving himself time to prepare, and when his gaze finally found you in the water, it faltered for just a fraction of a second. His eyes widened, not enough to be obvious, but enough for you to notice.

You held back a smile.

“I might already know your answer,” you said lightly, tilting your head just enough, “but could you bring me the tray with the drinks?”

He crossed his arms, something amused flickering across his face. “It’s gone.”

“What?” you asked, sharper than you meant to be. “Why?”

“I…” He hesitated, then exhaled. “I drank the rest.”

You blinked.

“You… did?” A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Well. That’s unexpected.”

“I apologize,” he added quickly, though there was a faint hint of ease in his voice now, his hands moving behind his back. “But now that you’ve discovered them, I’ll make sure they’re prepared whenever you visit.”

“They are very good,” he admitted, almost as an afterthought.

“I know,” you said, your laughter softening. “But they help you relax. I’m sure you noticed. Maybe you should—”

You stopped yourself, your hand quickly covering your mouth.

He let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, sinking just a little deeper into the water, as if it might hide you. You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself before peeking at him again. “We’re friends, right?”

He nodded, a small, knowing smile resting on his lips.

“Would it be strange,” you continued, your voice softer now, “if you joined me? It might help. The water is… very nice. And you deserve to rest.”

“We’re friends,” he said after a beat. “We’ve been in the sea together before. I suppose this isn’t much different.”

Before you could fully process his answer, his hands lifted to the fastenings of his robes- only for him to pause.

“I turned around…” he reminded you.

You did so immediately, your back to him, suddenly far more aware than you had been moments ago. You kept your gaze fixed ahead, willing yourself not to turn, not to think too much about the quiet movements behind you such as the soft shift of fabric, the faint sound of layers being set aside.

You didn’t move. Not until you heard the water behind you, a soft ripple followed by a light tap against your shoulder.

When you finally turned, your breath caught.

His silhouette had changed. The weight of his formal attire was gone, leaving only the quiet strength of him beneath the water, the surface breaking just at his chest. His hair, no longer bound, fell freely around his face and shoulders, dark strands softened by the steam.

This time, you felt your cheeks warm.

“Well…” you said, letting out a small laugh, “I suppose the bath works better than the drinks.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I’m still not convinced those drinks should be allowed in the palace.”

“They should,” you countered, shifting slightly in the water, the movement sending gentle ripples toward him. “They make people honest.”

“That explains a lot,” Zuko replied, glancing at you with quiet amusement.

You smiled, relaxing a little more. “And they’re calming! You needed it. You looked like you were being sentenced, not hosting a gathering.”

“That’s not far from the truth,” he admitted, settling back against the warm stone ledge of the bath. “I think I spoke to at least ten people about alliances I don’t want and futures I’m not planning.”

“And the ladies?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Any of them win you over?”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Not even close.”

“Wow,” you said lightly. “They’re going to be devastated.”

“I think they’ll recover,” he replied dryly. Then, after a beat, his tone softened just slightly. “You weren’t supposed to be part of that, you know.”

You stilled a little. “Then why am I?”

He hesitated.

“My uncle insisted,” he said. “He said I should invite people I actually trust.” His gaze flickered back to you. “People I would rather see there.”

The words hit your chest in an exquisite way.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he added.

You looked down at the water briefly, your fingers trailing through it. “I almost didn’t.”

That caught his attention.

“Why?”

You shrugged slightly, though it wasn’t as effortless as you wanted it to be. “Because I didn’t want to be… part of a list.”

“You’re not,” he said, a little too quickly.

You looked up at him again, studying him more carefully now. “Then what am I, Zuko? Just a friend?”

He didn’t answer right away.

The water between you stilled.

“Someone I wanted here,” he said finally. “A very important guest.”

You huffed softly, trying to pull the moment back into something lighter. “Well, next time you could just say that. Save me the competition.”

“There wouldn’t be any,” he replied, almost absentmindedly.

You blinked.

“…Zuko.”

He seemed to realize what he’d said a second too late, his gaze shifting, a hint of color rising to his face again.

“I didn’t mean—” he started.

“You did,” you interrupted.

You shifted in the water.

“For someone who didn’t want this whole thing,” you murmured, “you’re not doing a very good job of hiding your preferences.”

His eyes met yours again.

“I wasn’t trying to,” he said.

The words struck you more directly than you expected, like a lightning, leaving no room to laugh them off.

“Zuko, I—”

“Don’t do that again,” he said suddenly.

You stilled, confusion flickering across your face as you found yourself drifting closer without quite realizing it.

“Do… what?” you asked, a note of uncertainty slipping into your voice. For a brief second, doubt crept in… had you misread everything? Had you gone too far?

“Say my name like that,” he interrupted your thoughts, his voice lower now. He stepped closer as well, closing what little distance remained between you. “And before you ask, I mean when you say it like that. Breathless…”

He stopped himself, jaw tightening slightly, as if he had already said more than he meant to.

“It makes me want to—”

He cut himself off.

Your gaze didn’t leave his.

“It makes you want to what?” you asked, softly. “What, Zuko?”

The space between you disappeared in a single movement, his restraint finally giving way as he kissed you firmly. It wasn’t hesitant, but it wasn’t careless either; there was intention in it, in the way he held you and the way he didn’t pull away.

Your hands found his hair almost immediately, still damp, fingers threading through it. The contact seemed to undo something in him, his composure slipping as his hands moved to your sides, finally allowing himself to touch you, to feel the closeness he had been so careful to avoid.

You were already close, but it wasn’t enough.

His grip tightened as he drew you closer, guiding you with him as he lowered himself against the edge of the bath, bringing you with him until you were settled over him, the water shifting around you both.

“Zuko…” you breathed, breaking the kiss.

“Exactly like that,” he murmured, his forehead resting briefly against yours. “You’re not very good at following requests, are you?”

A soft laugh escaped you, light but unsteady, as you leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek, just at the edge of his scar. He stilled for a moment, caught off guard by the gentleness of it before your hand came up to his face in a quiet reminder that it was only you. He relaxed.

“I am,” you said quietly. “Even more now, I promise. The blue drink made me more… agreeable.”

“Then,” he replied, his voice lower now, steady but no longer distant, “may I request something of you?”

You simply nodded.

“Would you let me touch you?” he asked.

Given the way you were seated over him, the question felt almost rhetorical.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

A small smile curved on his lips as his hand moved between you. “You sound delightful,” he murmured. “That’s a word I’ve never heard from your mouth before…”

You didn’t get the chance to respond.

A sharp gasp escaped you as his fingers found your clit, circling with intention, drawing an immediate reaction from you. Your body sank further onto him, your hands rising instinctively to cradle his face as he leaned back against the edge of the bath.

“Isn’t this trick effective?” he asked, his voice edged with curiosity as his movements grew more precise. His other hand steadied your waist, keeping you from shifting too far. “I don’t hear you talking anymore…”

A breathy laugh slipped from you as you leaned into the crook of his neck. “You are… you—” you tried, your words breaking as his rhythm adjusted, firmer now, exactly where you needed him.

Until he stopped.

You barely had time to react before his lips brushed your shoulder, grounding you again, and then he rose from the water, lifting you with him effortlessly.

“You move your waist too much,” he said, almost thoughtful, as he carried you out of the bath without pause. “I think we should move somewhere more… stable.”

“I’m being carried, so I trust you,” you replied with a small laugh. “Though I’m starting to think this was your plan all along.”

The lightness in your tone didn’t last long.

He set you down gently on the bed, and for the first time, you really looked at him.

Water still traced down his skin, every line of his body defined beneath the dim light- the strength in his shoulders, the firmness of his chest, the way his abdomen tightened with every small movement. There was something almost unfair about it.

“I could really get used to this,” he said, moving over you.

He had barely settled into place when you shifted, pushing him onto his back instead. Now he lay against the mattress, and you were above him, your body still damp, the last drops of water slipping between you.

“Me too,” you answered.

Your hands moved over him starting at his chest, sliding lower, until they reached him. Already hard. You stroked him once, then again, slow enough to feel the effect it had on him as his breath caught.

“You were right,” you murmured. “This trick is… very effective.”

His hands found your waist, gripping just firmly enough.

It was all the invitation you needed.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his again as your hand continued its slow rhythm, your body shifting closer until you aligned yourself over him. You paused just for a second, before easing down, taking him in gradually.

Both of you let out a low moan at the same time.

You adjusted, your hands moving briefly to push your hair back before settling into a rhythm- slow at first, but with an urgency beneath it that refused to be ignored. The lingering warmth from the drink was nothing compared to the feeling of him inside you, the steady pulse of him making your body respond around him.

The pace didn’t stay slow for long.

The soft sounds of movement filled the room as your rhythm quickened, the contact between you becoming more insistent, less controlled.

“You feel… so good,” he said, his voice strained now, his hands tightening as he shifted, lifting you slightly just to change the angle, his movements growing harder and faster.

“Don’t stop, Zuko… please,” you breathed. “I’m close.”

“How could I even dare?” he answered, his voice strained with his own effort.

The heat of him only seemed to intensify, his skin burning warmer beneath your hands, his grip tightening as he moved with you; matching your pace, guiding it, until it was impossible to tell who was leading anymore.

“You’re so… beautiful,” he murmured against your ear, his voice breaking slightly as his rhythm continued, the sounds of your bodies meeting filling the space between his words. “You always have been…”

His voice, his words, the feeling of him still buried inside you- it all came together at once, sending you over the edge. Your body trembled, your legs tightening as your release hit you.

He held you through it, steadying you, grounding you, before easing you down onto the bed beside him- never leaving you, never breaking the connection between you.

His movements grew uneven, less controlled, until he followed you, his breath catching as he finally stilled.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Only your chests did in attempt to catch your breath.

His hand remained at your side, absentmindedly tracing slow patterns against your skin, as if grounding himself in the fact that you were still there.

You shifted slightly, just enough to look at him.

He was already looking at you.

You leaned in first.

His hand came up to your face almost instinctively, holding you there with gentleness.

When you pulled back, it wasn’t far.

“We’re… very bad at being just friends,” you murmured, touched with the faintest hint of a laugh.

A breath of a smile crossed his lips.

“I think we’ve been bad at that for a while.”

You huffed lightly, letting your forehead rest against his for a moment. “Katara is never going to let me hear the end of this.”

That earned you a quiet laugh from him.

“She already didn’t,” Zuko admitted.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “What does that mean?”

“She may have said something,” he replied, almost too casually. “About you not just being there for… support.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, though a smile betrayed you. “I knew she was involved somehow. She was very insisting about that dress.”

“I’m glad she was,” he said. “You looked flawless.”

Your fingers drifted lazily over his chest, tracing patterns without much thought. “I don’t regret listening to her. Nor do I do the dress, the drinks, the very questionable decisions—”

“The drinks were definitely a factor,” he added.

You laughed softly. “They were excellent, by the way.”

“I noticed. And I’m glad you don’t regret it.”

You shifted closer again, your head finding a more comfortable place against him, your voice lowering as the weight of the night finally began to settle in.

His arm moved around you without hesitation.

Your eyes began to grow heavier, your body finally giving in to the exhaustion you had been ignoring all evening.

“Don’t let them pick someone else,” you murmured, already half-asleep, your words softened by sleep.

A quiet breath of a laugh left him.

“I’d like to see them try,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin as the night finally stilled around you.

Part 2.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

Note: i spent so much time on this. it wasn’t supposed to be this long but I hope you enjoyed! Xx

[mintmatcha]

love arranged marriage unfortunately. the idea of being married to a knight who's not even in the city, but away on the front lines. it's a benefit for your family, so they dont even question sending you to his home to await his return...

[mintmatcha]

you meet him three months into the arrangement. He arrives after the sun has already set, his features set strong in the candlelight. His body is heavy with exhaustion and tension, his eyes dull and tired.

you've grown to hate this place, this castle gifted to him for war victories. The halls are barren, the garden yet to bloom. The maids are pleasant, but they keep their distance, as if you'll strike. Maybe your husband is the kind to hit. You wouldn't know.

When he looks at you, it's only in short bursts, his eyes suddenly low. There's a long stretch of silence between you and you consider introducing yourself, but decide against it. He knows who you are.

"The maid is drawing me a bath," he says suddenly and a sick feeling pours over you. This day was always coming, but you aren't sure you're ready to lay under a stranger.

"Am I expected to join?" you ask and his nose crinkles.

"No." He steps back and away. His departure is brisk and driven. You retire for the night by yourself and awake alone. Your husband is set to leave again in a few hours; a few soldiers have already gathered in the front garden.

"Don't you wish to give your new wife a goodbye?" one asks, unaware of your open window. "One night and you've already had your fill? Or has she been filled too much?"

"I refuse to believe she is real!" says another. "What kind of woman has worn down our brute and turned him into a family man? Should we expect a gaggle of children in the upcoming year?"

Your husband growls. "You will leave the poor lamb alone. She suffers enough."

That softens you. Just a bit. You rise from you bed and go to the window, leaning out enough to catch the men's attention.

"Until next time."

He watches you, expression caught between more emotions that you can count, then turns his gaze back to his mount. The two men share a look, wide, wide grins on their faces.

"Until next time," he repeats back.

[mattsundaes]

How to check if your post(s) have been affected by Tumblr's recent auto content flagging spree:

In case you haven't noticed, Tumblr's automatic flagging and filtering system has been having a field day this week. Whatever is going on is specifically targeting reblogs and flagging/hiding them, while the original post remains unflagged, meaning the original poster does not receive any sort of notification that their post(s) are affected.

What kind of posts are being affected? I think that this latest flagging spree is heavily targeting posts with images. And by images, I mean any sort of image file. This is only a theory based on my own evidence, other posts may still be affected, too. But in my case, something as simple as a plain black 3 pixel divider triggered it (and I know this to be true because I reblogged a post as-is [FLAGGED], reblogged it with the divider image removed [NO LONGER FLAGGED]).

The only way to see if your post(s) have been affected is to individually go into the notes for any you want to check. In my experience, my affected posts have been entirely random, and some were posted years ago.

Find a post that you know had reblogs with tags

The 'reblogs with comment or tags' section will now be blank if the post has been affected

If you go to 'other reblogs' (blank reblogs) and try to click into them, they will all show up greyed out and hidden on the user's blog

Currently, the only way I can see to fix this is if the users who reblogged your post(s) go to their 'Review flagged posts' tab and submit an appeal. Note that this appeal process appears to be automatic. I tested this several times, and the appeal was approved in less than a minute.

And if your post(s) are affected, the only interim solution I have found is to edit the original post, test out removing images if applicable, and reblog it again to see if the flag has been removed. Unfortunately, it seems this will only help with future reblogs. It will not retroactively fix the reblogs that were flagged.

Why is this a problem for writers (and artists + other creators)?

Something as simple as a plain divider separating the fic summary can trigger this.

Writers are now losing years worth of reblogs that contain meaningful feedback.

Writers have no way of being notified about affected posts, because the flag only triggers in the reblog.

Flagged reblogs are automatically hidden, meaning that affected posts can no longer be reblogged. Defeating the entire purpose of the reblog website where the goal is to reblog and share content across the community.

[sushicatsstudios]

Suguru the kids miss you...come back

[smolivin]

here again… hi … i would like to ask abt ur bkdk drabble… do u think kacchan knows reader has a crush on him? has he ever thought about it deeply.. in a gross nasty way before he finds out izu is into it?

oh yes..... oh yes

⊹₊⟡⋆ what the heart wants (pt. 2) | dk x bk x reader ⋆⟡₊⊹

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 coming soon... |

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ part one is recommended reading! what happens when izuku realizes his girlfriend thinks kacchan is hot? well...⋆｡˚✴︎⋆ 5k wc

٠࣪⭑ cw: fem!reader x izuku established relationship, voyeurism, m!masturbation, public masturbation (yeesh), oral sex (m!receiving)/throat fucking, piv, katsuki feels wretched n is painfully soft about it, no threesomes yet :(, half ish proofread but not really (lmk if i forgot any tags)

you see, katsuki knows it's wrong.

he isn't trying to do anything, it's just... he's not stupid, he has eyes, and they can see it written all over your face. it's not obvious when your little crush started; it's hard to even call it a crush when he's pretty sure you aren't totally aware of it yourself. it's just something he slowly picked up on – your lingering glances, the way your breath hitches when he reaches for something and the hem of his shirt rides up a little....

he knows, izuku definitely isn't aware of it. katsuki's seen him be jealous before and it's not a pretty sight; all mopey and irritable, his feelings are often obvious to those around him because of his inability to play it cool. but he hasn't exhibited any of this behavior.

it's strange, because as far as he can tell, nothing has really changed in your relationship with izuku at all.

and you... so sweet, so earnest. it's not hard to see why the two of you are together, and katsuki honestly likes you together, thinks that it's nice izuku has someone who loves him so much, someone who he loves in return.

n katsuki likes you well enough, too.

no, not like that, that wouldn't be right, but... he's drawn to you, just a little – let's you get away with things. he has this fondness and he doesn't quite know where to put it, so he swallows it down because his friendship with izuku is far too valuable to him and his respect for you far too plentiful to explore the feeling any further.

after long days in the field, he also thinks it's nice, when you have izuku invite him to dinner once or twice or a few times a week. something about a meal shared being more satisfying.

sure, after a while he's pretty sure it's because the two of you just like his cooking better, and are using friendship as a way to secure a private chef.... but he doesn't mind.

especially when he's made your favorite, and you take the first bite, closing your eyes and humming, "katsuki, you are such a good cook! so yummy...." you swallow and then gaze across the table at izuku. "i think we have to kidnap him and make him cook all of our meals."

"not on your life," katsuki objects, but izuku is nodding along, tapping his chin in thought.

"then we could get him to do the shopping, too..." and you clap your hands and turn to katsuki.

he can't quite tell just how kidding you are when you say, "how about it, kacchan? wanna live with me n izu and do all the cooking and shopping?"

"–and cleaning–!" izuku adds with a smirk, mouth half full.

you nod seriously, batting your lashes, "and cleaning? because you're soooo good at that stuff! and–"

"shut up," katsuki groans, although it's lacking any real malice. "eat your damn food before it gets cold. an' you–" he looks at izuku and narrows his eyes, "talking with food in your mouth is disgusting."

freckled cheeks are a shade pinker as the man swallows quickly, mumbling a soft, "sorry, sorry..." but katsuki isn't really listening, just thinking about your joking proposal.

living here. being here. his eyes flick to you and he can't help but rake them over your figure; the tank top you're wearing is thin, and one of the straps is starting to fall down and off your shoulder. he has half a mind to reach out and tug it back up for you, to brush his hand along your collarbone and feel your warmth.

you're making a show of eating your dinner, exaggerating bites and moaning about how satisfying it is, and katsuki feels his mouth go dry. he shifts his gaze to lock on to your throat, watching the way it bobs as you swallow. he squeezes his hand into a fist to stop the tremor that arcs through his fingers as they long to stretch and taste your delicate skin.

you catch his eye, and he swears there's a twinkle in yours.

it's a moment with just the two of you, though, when he truly realizes there really is something – something he can't quite put his finger on.

it's a couple of weeks later. you just needed a ride, that's all. your appointment time was changed at the last second, and there was no way the train could get you there in time, not all the way across town. izuku was at work, so were all your other friends, and you just needed a ride.

katsuki's mildly surprised when he sees that it's you, calling him in the middle of the day. he happens to be taking a long lunch, poring over some paperwork from the day before he'd neglected to look at, (too much in favor of going home at some sort of reasonable hour).

when he picks up the phone, you sound apologetic before you even ask. "hey, i know you're probably at work right now–"

"on lunch," he interrupts, shoving the papers aside. "do you need somethin'?"

"annnyyyyy chance you're available to give me a ride? no one else is free, and i have an appointment, it was originally supposed to be in a couple hours, but–"

he rolls his eyes as you launch into a long winded explanation, fighting the smile that's trying to claw it's way onto his features. it doesn't matter if he was dead last on the list, you still think of him as someone you can ask for a favor. if it was anyone else (except maybe izuku), he would probably say no and let them figure their shit out, but instead he says, "where do i need to pick you up?"

he chuckles at the way you gasp in relief and overdo your thanks, spewing a stream of gratitude, so he gently reminds you, "i need an address if m'gonna leave." it's funny, how similar you and izuku can be.

he might speed (just a little! sort of...) on the way to your location, not wanting to leave you stranded a second longer than he has to. when you see his sleek black car pull to the side of the road, engine purring, you beam at him and wave, before clambering in to the passenger's seat.

"katsuki!" you exclaim, setting your bag gently on the floor of the car, "thank you so much, you're the best."

he grunts, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as he expertly pulls back into traffic; he's conscious of your eyes on him, watching every one of his movements carefully. "yeah, sure. it's not a problem."

"no, really," you say, tone slightly more serious, but still playful enough. "you're my hero, dynamight!"

he barks a laugh. "that's great explosion murder god dynamight, to you."

"how ever can i thank you?" you ask, lashes fluttering and tone like honey. it sends a shock through his spine, hearing those words out of your mouth, which is awful.

katsuki's grip on the wheel tightens and he avoids looking at you, instead staring hard at the road ahead. he can't completely figure out why the comment makes him so uncomfortable. his heart is racing and his hands are starting to feel all clammy, so he tries to downplay. "there's nothin' very heroic about being free and havin' a car, just... don't worry about it–" he deigns to look over at you now, stealing a secretive glance at the look on your face; eyes wide and shiny, smile sweet, almost shy. "–alright?"

you're biting the corner of your lip, looking a little uncertain, before you reach out a hand and touch him, pressing your palm to his bicep and tapping your fingers a few times before letting your arm fall. "you're funny," you say. "izuku is right, you really are kinda bashful."

"what did that damned nerd say about me?" katsuki demands, his cheeks betraying him and flushing slightly.

you chuckle to yourself and shake your head. "nothing, nothing," sneak another look at his flustered face and laugh for real. "nothing too bad, anyway," you tease.

"he's biased," katsuki grumbles. the pouty look he sports feels out of place for him, usually seen wearing a look of annoyance and superiority. it's cute.

the rest of the drive passes in relative quiet; he has the radio turned down low and occasionally you hum along to a song, or make a small anecdotal comment. it's a peaceful quiet, warm and cozy and strangely familiar. it makes it all too easy for katsuki to overthink every single thing about this entire interaction – he's hyper aware of you next to him, watching every shift and adjustment in your seat through his periphery. curses himself when he notices your stiff nipples, clearly outlined through your shirt. he has to remind himself to shift his focus back to the road, but the silhouette of your chest feels burned into his brain.

"you can adjust the air... if you're too cold." he likes it a little cooler when he drives, prone to sweating. and really, he can't complain at the current result. he swears he feels your eyes boring a hole into the side of his face again

you shake your head, "m'good. it's nice and... comfy in here. your car is so clean."

"obviously," he scoffs.

"no, just..." you ponder for a moment. "you and izuku. you guys really are similar in a lot of ways, but... you're also so different." you laugh airily; the sound tingles in his ears, makes him feel all soft. "if this was his car, it would probably be covered in energy bar wrappers and all might collectibles." katsuki thinks that likes the look on your face when you talk about his best friend. your guard is lowered, and you get all smiley and emotional. you guys really are two peas in a pod.

when you get to your destination, you walk around to his door and tap on the window. he rolls it down and props his arm on it, leaning forward to get a better look at you. "you need a ride back, too?"

"no, thanks," you say. "i'll take the train, m'gonna meet izuku after school gets out." something in katsuki's chest tightens a little at your words, but he ignores it.

"um..." you pat his shoulder awkwardly, like you're unsure what to do, before swooping down, lightning fast, and pressing a kiss into his cheek before you scurry away, waving behind you with a "thanks again!"

he doesn't pull away from the curb for a long time, definitely making him late back at the agency, but he doesn't care, doesn't even notice. his fingers trace the burning spot on his cheek where your lips touched, enthralled. you'd kissed him.

kissed him???

"fuckin'–" he sighs, pressing his forehead to the wheel in front of him. he doesn't know exactly what you're thinking, but he's not stupid; women have flirted with him plenty in his adult life, he knows what it feels like to have someone interested in you.

but you?

what business do you have, kissing him like that? he wishes you'd never done it, wishes he'd said no to picking you up and dropping you off, wishes he could erase the memory from his mind. but he can't. the memory of your lips against his skin haunts him, and he feels that phantom kiss all throughout the rest of the day, the rest of the week.

back at the agency, when his publicist gives him a little bag of dynamight charms, encouraging him to hand them out to friends or fans, he's incredulous. realistically the charms will end up on the floor of the back of his closet, and then eventually a trash can. if fans want to seek out their own merch that's fine, that's the way it should be, but he sure as hell isn't going to start handing out party favors after saving someone's ass. that's not his job, not even a little bit.

as he goes to toss the things and save himself having to do it later, he pauses with his hand over the bin. a memory is tugging at him, something faint in the back of his mind. a conversation from a few dinners ago....

hadn't you mentioned wanting a charm bracelet? it was coming back to katsuki now, you gushing about how you'd purchased some charms for yourself and had been putting off buying a chain to display them. he slips one of the trinkets from the bag and into his pocket before tossing the rest.

when he goes to yours and izuku's for dinner that sunday, his guard is up high.

it makes him snippier than usual, and quieter. he sits at the end of the table, leaned forward with his head on his arm; just watching you both gab on about everything you've been up to, tuning out the sound of your voices. he's thinking maybe he shouldn't have come tonight, trying to steady his bounding pulse when he hears your voice, curling around the syllables that form his name.

he thinks about how he wants to hear you say it again, and again and again and again and again, and a bolt of guilt strikes through him.

it's a shame, he thinks, because the sound of you saying his name might just be the prettiest thing he's ever heard, maybe tied with only one other rendition that he's gotten used to over the years and come to love, cherish even.

he's still not quite paying attention to the conversation, and izuku's hand on his arm startles him, makes him jerk it back and sit up straight. izuku is always so touchy, and every time he touches him so... casually, katsuki isn't sure how he's supposed to react. it always feels like the edges of his vision blur a little bit, and he forgets what he was doing.

"kacchan, are you feeling alright?" izuku asks gently, and katsuki nods, gruff and dismissive.

"m'fine, what were you saying?"

you have a peculiar look on your face when you explain how he picked you up that week. "i was just saying how you're a lifesaver!"

the next few moments almost feel rehearsed, and knowing the two of you they might be. you both reach across the table at the same time, each taking one of his silky soft hands into both of yours.

he might die, he might really pass out or die or throw up or something. never before has he been so irritated with his quirk, hoping the two of you don't notice how sweaty his palms have become.

"we just..." you begin, trailing a thumb over his fingers; he gulps and looks away because your eyes on him like this are going to give him palpitations. unfortunately, he can't escape the big wide eyes tonight, because izuku looks at him with an expression and posture to mirror yours, down to the way his thumb is tracing the knuckles on the back of katsuki's hand.

"we wanted to say thank you," izuku finishes.

"for... one ride?" katsuki chokes out, trying to hide how on-the-spot he feels. "in–in my car?"

"no, no no no," you giggle. "for everything."

"we know we're a handful," izuku jokes, gesturing to the way you're both still holding on to him, "it's like you're our caretaker sometimes."

"and you don't have to!" you chime in, "but, we love having you around, so we selfishly keep letting you do stuff for us."

katsuki doesn't really know what to say. there's nothing he really can say, not with the sound of blood rushing in his ears blocking out any attempts at rational thought. he shrinks back, trying to avoid the heat of two hawkish stares. his throat feels dry and scratchy when he says, "...it's... fine. i don't mind." the staring is too much, so he hastily adds, "think you two would probably die without me."

he tries to be subtle when he tugs his hands back and folds them in his lap tightly, so tightly his knuckles turn white.

"you enable us," izuku quips, turning back to his plate, and you laugh. katsuki just lets himself imagine running out the door and escaping what is turning in to a specific kind of torture.

it's not too much later when he can't take anymore, clearing his throat loudly. he gives an excuse about a headache, and feeling tired, and how he actually cares about his own wellbeing so he'd better get to bed.

he's already at his car when he hears his name called behind him, hears the door of your complex open and shut and the sound of soft footsteps chasing around the corner after him. he catches sight of the box perched on his passenger seat and sighs as he turns around to face you. you're almost out of breath when you reach him, heaving a sigh of relief.

"i caught you, thank goodness!" you say, wrapping a robe around yourself; he watches the motion with hungry eyes. "listen–"

"hold on," he cuts in. you falter, tilting your head in expectation.

"i – uh, well my publicist, i mean – you – look, you just bought some hero charms, yeah?" you narrow your eyes in suspicion and nod, so he goes on. "they made charms, dynamight ones, at the agency, and i thought – maybe you'd like them, so i saved one of 'em for you–" he reaches through his open door to grasp the small box and hands it to you.

you take it with bated breath and hands that you fight to keep still, carefully lifting the lid; inside, a pretty silver chain sits upon a satin cushion, dynamight charm already attached.

"katsuki..." you breathe, fingers ghosting over the metal. you close the box fast, like it holds a secret, and look up at him with eyes like saucers.

"it's nothin' special," he insists. "i got the charm for free, in a way, and... it's not right, giving someone somethin' like that with nothing to put it on."

you just gaze at him, and he at you.

this drags on just a moment too long, before you break the eye contact, slipping the box into the pocket of your robe. now that the tense moment has passed slightly, he can't look at you, so he trains his eyes firmly on the ground.

"izuku wanted me to check on you," you say finally, looking back up at him. "he asked me to come and make sure you're alright to drive home with a headache."

katsuki does finally look at you again then, expression soft as butter that's starting to melt. "i'm good," he says quietly.

"are you sure? you know you can always stay–" katsuki pats your head and you yelp and swat at his hands.

"i am perfectly capable of gettin' home, jeez. you and the nerd worry about me too much."

it's nice, though, really nice. he loves that you came out here all worried, just to check on him. he likes that izuku sent you, all worried about him too.

it's a little awkward, when you both say your goodbyes. it's like you know you shouldn't be outside anymore, the air turning a particularly unbearable kind of thick. when he sits in his car, he turns on the engine, but doesn't put it in drive. just cracks a window as he tries to calm down.

just like the other day, he hunches over, head pressed to the steering wheel. the pressure helps him, to think. to breathe.

everything feels... so strange. a hundred different possibilities race through his mind, and he tries to ignore them all, tries to ignore the fire in his belly when he thinks of the way you looked at him just moments ago. he sits like that, in his car, for a long time. ten, maybe twenty minutes tick by, and katsuki sits, unmoving. it's almost a meditative state he finds himself in, trying to find center, when he hears laughter chiming through an open window in your building.

he's quick to dismiss the sound, but it's... familiar, and his head jerks up sharply when he hears a deeper, equally as melodic laugh filtering into the night air, intertwining with the first. on the second floor, the wide windows of your and izuku's apartment are propped open. from where he's parked, he has a surprisingly good view into your living room, seeing a solid third of it or so before it starts to disappear from view. he makes a mental note to tell izuku about this later so he can get some better curtains, but for now...

he can just see the end of your dining room table, where it sits adjacent to the kitchen, and the hallway leading back into the apartment. but it's good enough – just lucky, that's where you happen to be sat at this very moment. you aren't facing the window, angled back towards the kitchen as you perch on the edge of the table. he can't see your legs, only the curve of your back as you laugh, the way your hands gesture as you talk. izuku must be doing something in the adjoining room, and katsuki wonder's what it is. dishes, or making tea?

the conversation you two are having isn't quite intelligible, but he can make out your tones, hear the pitches of laughter and exclamations that pair with more emphatic hand gestures.

and he just... watches. kinda feels like a little bit of a stalker, but he can't seem to make himself leave. his whole body is practically trembling, practically vibrating with restraint as he wants more than anything to just drive away, but remains completely frozen in place.

ever since he handed you that stupid box, he feels like he's losing any semblance of self-control, not that he had all that much to begin with, not when it comes to you; not since he first noticed your eyes linger.

when izuku comes into view, wedging himself between your legs as you sit, katsuki sucks in a little breath. his sleeves are rolled to his elbows, scars and freckles on display, and katsuki is stuck on the way his arms look, rugged and textured and solid; it seems your train of thought is similar, because katsuki can make out one of your hands coming up to caress the bulk of his bicep, trail down his forearm, play with the fingers of one hand.

izuku leans in to kiss you, and all the blood drains from katsuki's face and floods to somewhere else. as you're slowly reoriented on the table by strong and steady hands, shifting you to face izuku better and pulling you closer to the edge of the table, katsuki swears it's for him, swears the universe is throwing him bone to give him a better view.

because now he can really see. you're both profiled to him, and he can see the way izuku's arm is wrapped around your waist, arching your back to press you even closer as your arms come up to tangle in his hair. katsuki wonders what it would feel like, having your fingers pull and tug at the strands to bring his face closer to yours. he imagines how good it would be to smell your skin up close, to feel your body curving into his.

blame the hour, blame the warm sticky summer air, blame anything, he knows it's wrong – but he can't help the way his hand presses into his growing bulge. he has to do something, he can't let this dizzying uncomfortable feeling go on any longer. you kiss and kiss, and he slowly grinds his palm, never tearing his gaze from the window.

he really needs to get you some curtains, or a privacy screen, something. the two of you are on full display to anyone who would bother to look hard enough.

when izuku sneaks his hand underneath your shirt, katsuki can barely make out the little gasp that tumbles from your lips, but he groans. slips his hand into his waistband because he can't take it anymore.

is he... is he really doing this? something about it, the risk, the guilt, spurs him on and he hisses through his teeth when his own hand finally wraps around his aching cock, skin to skin. he imagines it's yours, imagines himself gripping and stroking at the flesh of your chest, your stomach, wrapping fingers around your throat, the way izuku does now. he's a little rough with you, forcing your knees apart further so he can press himself to your sex, smirking at the mewl it pulls from your mouth. so you like it rough?

katsuki hasn't looked down at his cock once, like seeing it with his own eyes makes what he's doing real. he just keeps his attention locked on the window.

you lean forward, kissing and licking a column down izuku's throat, and katsuki does briefly close his eyes then, pretending it's him. imagines the heat of your breath over his adam's apple, how your tongue would feel lapping at his neck. his hand doesn't stop moving, pushing him closer and closer to the release he's been craving for weeks now. he's still picturing yours, imagining how soft, how dainty it must feel compared to his own.

opening his eyes, katsuki looks back in the window and his pumping fist finally stutters to a stop, thumb and forefinger gripped tightly around the base to keep himself from spilling too soon. in the moments he missed, hiding behind closed eyelids, you've sunk to your knees on the floor in front of izuku; he's got a hand on the back of your head as you take his girthy length in your mouth, the other leaning on the table to steady himself as he helps you choke on it. if katsuki squints, he swears he can see the line of drool trailing down your chin.

when he shifts his gaze, his inhale catches in his throat and he almost chokes on air. izuku has a tight grip as you let him fuck the back of your throat. his skin is all flushed and dewy, hair mussed from your attention... and katsuki's hand jerks again, almost on it's own. he slams a hand over his mouth to stifle a guttural moan as it's torn from his windpipe.

timing his strokes with the flashes of izuku's hips, katsuki really, finally allows himself ogle the curve of his bulky arms and broad shoulders. when izuku squeezes his eyes shut tight and pulls you off of his dick, katsuki is transfixed – he's addicted to the way izuku bites his lip slightly, to the rapid rise and fall of his chest, to the gentle caress of your face. the blonde's not sure he's ever been this hard in his life.

his free hand squeezes the inside of his car door with an iron fist as he finally looks into his lap, acknowledging the sick, twisted reality of it all. what kind of a new low is this? he's sick, really and truly believes it.

still, it doesn't stop him. he slows his palming so he can keep himself on the edge, not wanting to come a second before his best friend. when izuku picks you up off the floor in a swift motion, sets you on the table with such gentleness and adoration, katsuki wonders what it would be like to be taken care of by such capable hands. he watches as he confidently slides your panties down your trembling thighs, plants a quick little kiss to your cunt before coming up to kiss a different set of lips. he whispers something into your ear that makes you laugh, and katsuki wishes he could hear it.

when izuku slides his heavy cock inside, katsuki thinks this really might be it for him. he doesn't even know where to look, eyes flashing between your two bodies as izuku fucks you into the table, your legs squeezing around his waist and eyes rolling back as his hand rests gently against your collarbone, ominous, like a warning and a reminder.

with each squeeze around his leaky, twitchy tip, katsuki grows closer and closer to painting his clean and tidy car interior white. as izuku's hips start to speed, lose their rhythm a little, so does katsuki's hand. he's so close so close but he's waiting, waiting like he needs the permission to cum.

when izuku buries his head into your neck, katsuki knows it's almost time, kneading himself harder and faster. when he sees izuku's hips falter and still as he stays lodged deep inside your folds, he finally let's himself cum with a flick of his wrist. his heart is hammering in his chest, keeping him grounded, tying him to the earth as his soul tries to leave his body. he's shaking all over, shockwaves of his orgasm lighting every nerve ending he has on fire, his vision blurring until he has to shut his eyes and just ride the wave of sensation until it finally dissipates.

he's made a mess, a big one, cum dripping all over the sleek detailing. with trembling hands, he reaches into his glove box for the pack of wipes he keeps just in case, and cleans himself up as best he can before getting as much of the car as he can see. rolls his window up so he doesn't have to see the gentle scene in your apartment: izuku's hand on your cheek as you kiss, all wrapped in each other.

katsuki gets a glimpse of it anyway, as he finally pulls out into the street, and it heaves at his heartstrings. the light emanating from the window looks so warm, contrasted with the dark and gloomy night sky. he yearns to be there, to bask in the light and just let himself be at peace for once.

he thinks about that scene the whole drive home: the three of you, safe and sound and together. intertwined.

٠࣪⭑ a/n: i am actually in love with this fic. treat her gentle alright? also guys..... did you get my plan.... 3 people.... 3 parts..... 3 perspectives..... who, i wonder, is next??? would also like to shoutout aali for being my muse and helping inspire this one. reblog and comments are always appreciated! taglist :3 @shotorizawa @hachikinss @lonelyfooryouonly (to join you must be over 18, age in bio and following me!)

[pab10n]

[moviecritc]

我 ‧₊˚ .✿ hardest courtship ever

kyojuro rengoku x fem!reader x tengen uzui. you and tengen have been married for almost two years when you decide that kyojuro could be the best addition to your marriage. the only problem is that kyojuro is too oblivious to realize the crush you and tengen have on him. ˚.✦

It was Tengen's idea, actually. After a long mission, he came tired and bleeding, dropping on the bed and curling to your side. He didn't speak, you just played with his hair while he toyed with your nails and fingers.

Then, when the sun was completely down, Rengoku knocked on the door, asking about your husband's state and bringing some food. He told you at least five times that he was sorry to bother you two and left with a big smile and wishing Tengen a perfect recovery.

It took Tengen about six minutes to murmur against your neck, "I think I have a little crush on him. Do you?"

You just smiled. Of course you have a little crush on Kyojuro Rengoku. Who doesn't? Kind smile, hard working, strong, beautiful hair, piercing eyes, funny without trying. He's exactly your husband's and your type.

"Yeah. He's... he's cute."

"I think he likes me."

You burst out a laugh. "What now?"

Tengen just nods vigorously.

"Rengoku? Liking you? Please. He barely looks at me without turning into a tomato. No, no—if anyone’s got his heart racing, it’s me, sweetheart."

Tengen lifts his head just enough to give you that lopsided grin, the one that still makes your stomach flip even after years.

“You’re blind, babe. He brought me food at almost midnight. Hand-cooked. Apologized like he was interrupting a coronation. That’s not ‘polite coworker’ energy. That’s ‘I hope your wife doesn’t notice I’m in love with you’ energy.”

You snort. “He brought food because you got stabbed in the ribs, not because he’s proposing. And he smiled at me like six times. That’s flirting.”

“Smiling’s not flirting. Bringing soup is flirting. Smiling’s just… Rengoku.”

You tug a strand of his hair in retaliation. “You smiled at him first last week. I saw it. The slow one. With the head tilt.”

“That was appreciation for his form! The man’s got biceps like—”

“Like yours, yeah, I know.” You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning. “You’re jealous he might like me more.”

“Never. I’m jealous he hasn’t realized he likes me more.”

You both go quiet for a second, just breathing. The room smells like the miso Rengoku left on the table, still warm. Tengen’s thumb traces the inside of your wrist thoughtfully.

Then, softer: “What if we just… asked him?”

You blink. “Asked him what?”

“To join us.” He says it like it’s simple. “Not just flirting. Not just crushes. Us. You, me and him.”

You stare at him. The idea’s been there, humming under the surface for months. Every time Rengoku laughs too loud at one of Tengen’s jokes, every time he lingers after missions to check if you’re both okay, every time he blushes when you tease him about the way he blushes.

“You’re serious.”

“Dead serious. Flashiest marriage in the Corps. He’d fit. He’s loud, he’s loyal, he’s—” Tengen pauses, smirking. “—ridiculously pretty when he’s flustered. And you know he’d say yes. He’s too polite to say no to us.”

You bite your lip. “He’d combust.”

“Then we’ll catch him when he does.” Tengen nuzzles back into your neck, voice muffled but warm. “Think about it. Three of us. One ridiculous, perfect mess.”

You close your eyes, picturing it: Kyojuro’s flustered grin at the breakfast table, Tengen braiding his hair while you steal bites of his sweet potatoes, all three of you curled up like this after missions, alive and whole.

Yeah. You’re thinking about it.

That night you and Tengen spend planning how to conquer the heart of Rengoku, knowing how dense he can be at catching hints.

The three of you end up sparring at dawn in the Corps' training grounds, the air crisp and the sun just peeking over the mountains. Tengen, bandaged but moving like he owns the world, insists on demonstrating a new flashy technique. You accidentally position yourself between them, stretching dramatically.

You lean in close to Rengoku as Tengen circles, your voice a playful whisper. "Kyojuro, your form is perfect today. Those arms... I could watch you swing that sword all day. Makes a girl wonder what else those hands are good at." You wink, brushing a stray lock of his fiery hair behind his ear.

Tengen jumps in seamlessly, clapping Rengoku on the shoulder, lingering just a second too long.

"Ha! And that stance, Rengoku? Godly! You're so strong, so reliable." He flashes that dazzling grin, flexing subtly.

Rengoku beams, sweat glistening on his brow, completely oblivious. "Thank you both! Your compliments fuel my spirit! I am honored to train with such great friends!" He charges into another set of strikes, yelling encouragement like it's a pep rally.

You and Tengen exchange a look behind his back. Dense as a diamond, Tengen mouths. You stifle a laugh. Progress: zero. But his blush? Priceless.

After a grueling demon hunt, Tengen declares a mandatory recovery dip at a nearby hot spring. You three slip into the steaming water, still a little sore from the fight.

You sidle up to Rengoku, letting your shoulder brush his under the water. "Kyojuro, your skin looks so glowing after a fight. All that heat... it's intoxicating. Tengen and I were just saying how nice it would be to share more relaxing moments like this." You trace a lazy circle on his arm with your finger, eyes locked on his.

Rengoku laughs heartily, cheeks pink from the steam (or so he claims). "Haha! What loyal companions you are! Sharing an onsen is the ultimate bond of friendship! I feel rejuvenated already! Let us discuss battle strategies over sake later!" He dunks his head under the water, emerging with his unbreakable smile.

Tengen groans softly into your ear. "He's killing me."

A sudden summer shower traps the three of you under the overhang of the estate. Water drums on the tiles, the air smells of wet cedar.

You sit close enough that your knee touches Rengoku’s. “You always smell like firewood after training,” you murmur, not quite a compliment, not quite a question.

Tengen, on the other side, leans back on his palms. “And charcoal. It's hard to ignore.” He says it to the rain, but his eyes flick to Rengoku’s profile.

Rengoku turns, raindrops clinging to his lashes. “Ah, apologies! I should bathe more thoroughly—”

“No,” you both say at once, reaching for each of Rengoku's arms.

Rengoku blinks. “Well! The rain will wash us all clean soon enough!” He laughs, stretching his arms overhead, utterly content.

After one week of sending all types of hints to Rengoku, you and Tengen are exhausted and very frustrated. You are sitting on the floor, hair wet from the bath and sipping tea slowly when Tengen walks in.

"I literally just said to his face that we think he's the most incredible man we've ever met and he just answered that he appreciated our friendship so dearly. What is his problem?" Tengen drops to the floor by your side, giving you a tiny kiss in the mouth before serving a cup of tea to himself and refilling yours.

You sigh, setting your cup down with a soft clink. The steam curls up between you, carrying the faint scent of green tea. Tengen's presence is warm, but even he looks worn around the edges, his usual flash dimmed by the week's worth of failed flirtations.

"It's like talking to a wall. A very enthusiastic, very polite wall." You lean your head against his shoulder, fingers tracing idle patterns on his arm. "Remember yesterday? I 'accidentally' bumped into him during drills and told him his strength makes me feel safe, like I could lean on him forever. And he just… beamed and said, 'That's what comrades are for!'"

Tengen groans, rubbing his temple with one hand while the other finds yours under the table, intertwining fingers. "Don't get me started on the sparring session. I pinned him down and whispered right in his ear how his fire drives me wild, how I'd love to see it up close every night. He flips me off him, laughs, and goes, 'Your technique is improving! Let's go again!' The man is denser than his own sword."

You can't help but chuckle, though it's edged with exasperation. The room is quiet save for the distant chirp of crickets outside the shoji screens. Your hair drips a little onto the tatami, but you don't care.

"And the tea thing? We shared a cup, all of us. I thought that was subtle poetry. He just said it reminded him of sharing rations in the field."

Tengen takes a long sip of his tea, then sets it aside to pull you closer, his arm draping over your shoulders. "We're killing ourselves here. Weeks of this, and he's still treating us like best buddies in the Corps. Part of me wants to grab him by those fiery shoulders and yell, 'We want you in our bed, you oblivious flame!' But of course, he'd probably think it's a metaphor for teamwork."

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, seeing the mix of frustration and fondness there.

"It's almost cute. Almost. But seriously, Tengen, what now? More hints? Or do we just… tell him straight? No subtlety left."

He smirks, though it's tired.

"He'd probably salute and declare it a new mission objective." He pauses, thumb brushing your cheek. "But yeah. Maybe it's time. Subtle's not working. Let's plan one big, flashy confession tomorrow. If he still doesn't get it… well, at least we'll have tried."

You nod, nestling into him.

The next evening comes faster than either of you expected.

Tengen, decides the confession needs to be flashy in true Uzui style. He spends the day preparing: lanterns strung around the engawa, a low table set with Rengoku’s absolute favorites—sweet potatoes grilled just right, tempura still crackling, miso-glazed cod, and a mountain of rice. There’s even a bottle of good sake warming on the side. You help him arrange it all, stealing kisses between tasks, both of you buzzing with nerves you refuse to name.

When Kyojuro arrives, right on time, his eyes light up like bonfires.

“This spread is magnificent! You honor me with such a feast!” He bows deeply, hair glowing in the lantern light, before stepping up onto the porch and kicking off his geta. “I brought dessert!”

He proudly holds up a cloth-wrapped bundle—homemade sweet mochi, still warm. You and Tengen exchange a quick glance. Of course he brought something. Of course.

Dinner starts easy. Laughter, stories from recent missions, the usual rhythm of the three of you. Kyojuro eats with his whole soul, praising every bite, complimenting Tengen’s grilling technique, your seasoning, the way the lanterns make everything “radiant.” He’s warm, bright, utterly himself.

But the longer it goes, the tighter the knot in your stomach gets. Every time you try to steer the conversation, brushing your foot against his under the table, letting your hand linger when passing him sake, Tengen dropping lines like “We always feel better when you’re around, Rengoku… like something’s complete” Kyojuro just beams wider.

“Thank you! Your friendship is a flame that never fades! I am truly blessed to have such passionate comrades!”

Tengen’s eye twitches. You feel your own smile straining.

By the time dessert comes out, the two of you are practically vibrating.

Tengen clears his throat, loud and dramatic. “Kyojuro.”

Kyojuro looks up mid-bite of mochi, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. “Hm?”

You take a breath. Now or never.

“Tengen and I… we invited you here tonight for a reason.” Your voice is steady, but your heart is hammering. “It wasn’t just dinner.”

Kyojuro tilts his head, still chewing. “Oh? A new training regimen? A joint mission proposal? I am ready!”

Tengen pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, Rengoku. Not training. Not a mission.”

You lean forward, reaching across the table to take one of Kyojuro’s hands in both of yours. His skin is warm, always so warm. “Kyojuro. Listen to us. Really listen.”

He blinks those wide golden eyes, suddenly still.

“We’ve been trying to tell you something for weeks,” you continue. “With the sparring, the onsen, the tea, the compliments… everything. And you’re wonderful and kind and so utterly oblivious it’s driving us insane.”

Tengen leans in on his other side, voice low and rougher than usual. “We don’t just like you as a friend, Rengoku. We’re in love with you. Both of us. Ridiculously. Want-you-in-our-home, in-our-bed, in-our-life kind of in love.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Kyojuro stares. First at you, then at Tengen, then back again. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

Then, slowly, his whole face ignites. Cheeks, ears, neck, a blaze brighter than his hair.

“I… You…” He stammers, voice cracking for the first time either of you have ever heard. “You mean… romantically? The two of you… wish to court me? Together?”

Tengen throws his hands up. “Yes! Finally! God, Rengoku, we’ve been throwing ourselves at you for weeks! I pinned you in the dirt and told you your fire makes me burn, and you thought it was about sword forms!”

You squeeze Kyojuro’s hand tighter, frustration spilling over. “I told you your arms make me weak and that I want to wake up to your smile every morning, and you thanked me for the encouragement! Kyojuro, we are married. Happily. And we both want you with us. Not as a friend. As ours.”

Kyojuro’s eyes are huge now, shimmering. He looks like he’s been struck by lightning.

“I… I thought…” His voice is small. “I thought I was imagining things. That my feelings were… inappropriate. That I was reading too much into your kindness. I did not want to ruin what we have. I… I have admired you both for so long. Loved you. Quietly. Deeply. But I never dared hope—”

Tengen cuts him off by reaching over and cupping Kyojuro’s blazing cheek with one large hand.

“You idiot,” he says. “You beautiful, dense, perfect idiot.”

Kyojuro’s breath hitches.

You lean in on his other side, pressing your forehead gently to his temple. “We love you, Kyojuro. We want you. All of you. Say yes.”

For a moment, he just breathes.

Then he laughs. Not his usual booming laugh, but something softer, trembling, radiant.

“Yes,” he whispers. Then louder, fierce and sure: “Yes! With all my heart! I would be honored—no, overjoyed—to be yours!”

Tengen whoops, loud enough to startle the night birds, and pulls Kyojuro into a crushing hug across the table, dishes clattering dangerously. You join them, wrapping your arms around both, burying your face in Kyojuro’s warm neck as he clings to you both like he’s afraid it’s a dream.

When you finally pull apart, his face is still scarlet, but his smile is brighter than every lantern combined.

“I apologize,” he says earnestly, “for being so utterly oblivious.”

Tengen grins, wicked and fond. “We’ll punish you for that later.”

Kyojuro’s blush somehow deepens, and you laugh against his shoulder.

a/n: this was supposed to end in smut but i got sweet

[isagisms]

who got the biggest dick in gachiakuta

[katsukikitten]

A bath with your stoic boss, Zodyl Typhon

Steam rises higher in the small space, fogging the window as it lingers just overhead. Like a cloud too lazy to ascend further, threatening to blanket the two bodies in the room in an extra layer of extended warmth.

Soft splashing sounds, echo around the cracked titled room, met with a deep sigh as you sink further into the murky hot water. Billions and trillions of bubbles float on the surface in clusters forming their own constellations and dense galaxies like the dark sky overhead. Fading just as quickly as their counterparts.

Eyes slipping closed, water more noisy now as you dip your shoulders under the near boiling water, bare feet planted on the cool tile for relief. You nearly miss his foot falls from all the sloshing, nearly miss the soft click of the door shutting once more but you don't need to open your eyes to know who looms over you.

Still you let him have his moment of observation, keeping your eyes shut as your body is hidden by the water and soap.

“Care to join me Zody?” A purr of a question, his dark gaze flickering to your face to see it unchanged, unbothered. Lashes still kissing pretty cheeks that he knows will be warm to the touch if he lets his cold knuckles pass over them.

Another long moment, your heartbeats dancing around the other in a slow manner. Eyes lazily fluttering open to see him still dressed.

“Aw come on we came all this way.” Water splashes over the old edge as you move roughly, a waterfall of sound as droplets desperately fall back to the group.

The bubbling constellations change further from your turbulence.

“I'm fine.” Bored, heavy gaze holding your mischievous eyes he's come to like. How they twinkle now, even in the low light, watching your pupils dilate as if you're catching prey.

He fights a smile on his lips. Stands tall and still as your damp hands with sharp claws dance over his clothed body. How you make a joke out of his belt, undoing it with fluid motions of one hand while the other taps at his shoes in a demanding bid that he rid himself of them.

He obeys, only behind closed doors, when the moon hangs high and the world lies low.

Only you.

Although he cannot allow you to know that, smokey gem eyes fixated on you as you undo the buttons of his shirt. Your hands smoothing back up the bare skin of his chest before they stop just at the apex of his shoulders.

His hand cups the curve of your skull, staring into each other's eyes for a moment before you ease the jacket off of his shoulders.

Because it always came off last.

You know this, know his routine and how he works.

How he showers quickly, never apart from the well worn jacket for more than a few moments although you can understand why. You had heard the rumors, that a jinki of this caliber was taxing, that if it was removed for long it was debilitating. Pain that would shoot and radiate into every fiber and cell of his being as if the treasure was begging to be put back on.

Whispered it.

Demanded it.

But you'd never know. He keeps you away from it. Not from paranoia, you're the closest to Zodyl than the rest of the raiders, you know this even if he doesn't say.

Although it can be obvious to the those around you. He lets you get away with murder.

Let's you come and go as you please, allows you to be your own moving piece if you so choose to be a component on his board. Let's bring him jinki the same way a stray cat drops kills into their owners lap. Let's you whine, brat, and berate the raiders when they fail. Scolding him for not using you for a task, unable to help his smile as he keeps the secret that success wasn't what he was aiming for. Always tutting a low, deep and even sound.

“Every piece has its purpose.”

Allows your arms to slip under his own, to press your cheek to his chest as he placates you. Strong arms wrapping around your sturdy frame but never allowing the jacket to touch you for long. Never allowing it to hum its sweet nothings into your ear, never allow it to slide up your very capable arms and wreck the chaos it so desires.

But most importantly he allows this.

Touch, closeness.

For your steady hands to push the powerful, ancient fabric down toned muscle, to lay it across the sink gently. Giving it a gentle pet, cooing down at the jacket as you promise the two won't be parted long.

Smiling at Zodyl, motioning with your fingers to follow as you walk backwards, careful to watch his features as you beckon him.

No sign of pain, no twitch of his lips, or lids. No tremors like that of a withdrawal, nothing but his usual stoic cadence as steps closer.

Guiding him into the tub, pulling him down until his back is pressed against your chest as he hisses from the heat of the water.

His hair is still wet from his own shower, icy as it drops on to your heated skin. Nails quick to take over his scalp as he settles into your hold.

“It's scalding.”

“Mmhmm.” You hum back with delight, moving your hands to his shoulders to press him tighter against you. He sighs deeply, barely registers the pain that engulfs him, the buzzing that dulls in his bones and falls to a deaf mind.

Washed over by the burning water, more so by your soft skin. Tender breasts against his toned back, small hands gently pressed to his sternum as thick thighs lock around his waist.

After a few moments of your fingers circling his skin, his eyes slip shut.

“See, a hot bath does you good.” Pressing your lips to his throat before you hook your chin over his shoulder, “Like medicine for the heart and soul.”

Glancing out of the corner of his eye to see your deadly cat smile making him chuckle softly. Watching you sideways for a long moment before he presses his lip to your temple.

“I think it's more than the water.”

[bitem4rked]

​they’re so Kevin Gates music coded, yknow the song

[yuki119]

heard the kazekage has been practicing his taijutsu 🧐

[misseyp]

𓏲𝄢 𓈒　embarrassing moments during sex !! ◞ ft. gachiakuta guys + fem! reader

꒰ ˚ ₊ gris ♡ིྀ ꒱

after a long night of gris fucking you into the mattress, his warm hands planted firmly on your hips from behind, the two of you were completely spent. so, it’s only natural that the two of you fell asleep like that; gris still holding you tight, and his cock still buried deep, even as you both snore away. when morning rolled around, you’d assume gris would just pull out and start his day, right? well, no. because he’s in a bit of a.. predicament. he’s stuck. through the night, you clenched around his cock and somehow trapped him inside of you. gris just decides to fall back asleep and deal with it when you’re back awake.

꒰ ˚ ₊ jabber ♡ིྀ ꒱

jabber insisted that you choke him tonight. despite his injuries from a fight earlier that day, you decided to do it for him anyways— he probably wouldn’t accept a ‘no’ for that, anyways. so, you complied; hands wrapped around his neck as your hips roll against his. a moan leaves your lips, hands twitching and tightening against him as your pace quickens. and just as your hands grip his neck a little tighter; jabber lets out a choked groan. his eyes roll back, and a low gurgle leaves his throat. you blink, pausing every movement as you stare back at him. he goes limp for a few seconds, mumbled leaving his lips before he jolts back to life.

“hey— why’d you stop—?!” he yelps, eyebrows furrowing. “that was so good— my life flashed before my eyes, for real!”

꒰ ˚ ₊ enjin ♡ིྀ ꒱

enjin doesn’t mind getting a bit frisky in public. honestly, he quite likes it; the thought of potentially getting caught has him rock hard. so you weren’t surprised when his hand started creeping up your thigh as the two of you sat in the car— with like, practically every other cleaner sitting near you both. maybe not that many… but it sure felt like it. enjin, though, doesnt care. his fingers just keep moving up, eventually finding themselves under your pants and rubbing against your panties. just as he was going to slip them under, finally touching you properly; rudo’s yells out.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, ENJIN?!” rudo shouts in horror, before reaching over to shove at his arm. “LET GO OF HER!” he wails, mistaken. it seems he came to a different conclusion than others would.

꒰ ˚ ₊ zanka ♡ིྀ ꒱

zanka, despite his protests, is not the best at taking off his clothes in these intimate moments. he likes to pretend he’s good at it; but you both know the truth. this is why he likes it more when you do it for him. but tonight, he’s decided he wants to try one more time.

“no,” he shakes his head, lightly shoving you to lay down on the bed: “i’ve got this.” zanka reassures with a grin, lifting a hand to shimmy his pants down. he moves to kick them off— but his foot gets caught. and in just a few seconds, he’s already flipped and landing face-first onto the bed, lightly bouncing on the mattress beside you. he just sighs in embarrassment.

my masterlist.

[neeeooon]

uohhhh hehe,, Yay… in that case may i request doing your makeup at a sleepover w fem!shidou please? (maybe she and the reader are already in a relationship idk idk shes so pretty i want to kiss her)

sorry if this doesn’t make sense 🥹 Thank you!!!

-🐩🎀

thank you for this i needed it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ art creds to puplexis!

pretty enough to kiss

fem!shidou ryusei x gn!reader. fluffff, very slight suggestive

“sit still!” your girlfriend, shidou, said for the third time, her breath warm against your face. you squirmed when she continued applying your eyeshadow, the brush tickling you lids.

“you smell good,” you flirted, smiling when she grabbed your jaw to keep you still. “like strawberries and rosé.”

shidou sighed, and you could practically feel her rolling her eyes, even though you couldn’t see anything. “you’re such a flirt.”

“i learn from the best~” you said, and shidou made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

“yeah, well, the best is telling you to stop moving or i’ll poke your eye out,” she muttered, leaning closer to blend out the shimmer on your eyelids. her pink hair tickled your forehead, and you resisted the urge to scrunch your nose.

the silence between you lasted maybe thirty seconds before she broke it again, her voice softer and more genuine this time. “y’know, you actually look really cute like this.”

“cute enough to kiss?” you asked, tilting your head ever so slightly toward her, only for her to click her tongue and push your face back into place.

“not until i’m finished, brat,” shidou said, but there was no heat behind her words. all you could hear was the warm lilt of someone who was trying not to smile.

when she finally leaned back to admire her work, you opened your eyes to find her cocking her head. “hm. pretty. not as pretty as me, though.”

you rolled your eyes and reached for a mirror, but before you could even lift it, she caught your chin again, tilting your face up toward hers.

“but maybe pretty enough to kiss after all,” she added, pressing her lips against yours. you melted into the faint taste of strawberry lip gloss and smiled into the kiss.

[poltoreveur]

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.