⊹₊ 𐔌 🏎️ THIS IS FORMULA 1 DRIVE TO SURVIVE ! ★ 🏁 aali ⋆ she her ⋆ twenty five ! mdni - nsfw + dark content is featured. writing blog for @tteokdorokimain ! now that's podium, baby ! my alter ego's smiling. watch me - watch me !? my heart shouts. like an x-game, you’ll start to drive me crazy. now i’ve got adrenaline running through my veins. p1 in katsuki's heart ! ♡ i do not take requests.
nagi with a prince albert piercing woah who said that
what exactly do you gain from whacking me like thisssss ;-; pretty silver ball peaking from his tip and nagi completely forgets to mention it when you first start saying … imagine being long distance n getting a dick pic from him while he’s at an away game …. Bright red tip glistening with pre the jewellery catching on the light id be so sick n when he jerks off (with those gloves he wears with the football kit) he plays with the piercing AND NSNSKAKK
Hi aali! I just read your aang x reader fic: taking space and I would like to just say WOW that fic was amazing oh my goodness I literally reread it cause it’s that good!
You’re an amazing writer 😊😊😊🎀
thank you so much friend 🥺 means a lot that you stopped by im so happy!! ty for reading i hope you have a lovely day or night <33
apologies if you’ve discussed this before but have we considered shoto coping with his daddy issues by coaxing you into being his daughterwife. delete if too weird sorry
oh im liking this a lot !!! i think shoto wants to be the good dad he never and that reflects in his behaviours when you first start dating. he checks in on your health, he praises you way too much for the smallest of things, i think he even babies you a little too much without realising helps you pick out clothes undresses you for bed, feeds you things with his fingers and wipes your cheek clean by licking his thumb n rubbing. i think the first time you call sho daddy in a non sexual context like whilst he’s taking care of you or doing your hair he quiet literally feels an alleviating sense of happiness n smiles all pleased with himself “yes, love? i’m here.” sooooo dadboyfriend
bllk men that get their nips pierced once they stop playing pro: OLIVER, bachira, kaiser bc i told him pierced nipples were sexy and id probably leave him eventually for a man with pierced nips, nagi (i asked him to), SHIDOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
omg 13 reasons why made me cry but the fault in our stars made me inconsolable oh my god
i never finished 13 reasons why for like v obvious reasons but i remember reading the fault in our stars n me and my friends shared the same copy of the book n took turns to finish it :( the movie is so nostalgic toooo todays tweens will never know
mylily elden ring au surprise doodle done by @/Duckfr3ak on vgen!! ah i really wasn’t expecting this au to be chosen for this, but oh my gosh was it such a lovely surprise! i highly recommend working with them, they were so kind and receptive 🤍
THIS IS MY OWN PERSONAL COMMISSION — DO NOT SAVE THIS OR USE FOR YOURSELF. DO NOT FEED THIS COMMISSION INTO ANY FORM OF AI.
immediately back and posting but i don’t have much of a choice: it turns out i won’t be able to attend any courses this summer (meaning i have no way to financially support myself until the end of august)— i’ll be trying to make do to the best of my ability but it’s really bad news and i have nothing to fall back on atm. so i’m posting this to let you know where to find me for commissions this summer! message me at @/aricomms (discord) and we can work something out ^^ i have very little reservations about what to write, as long as it concerns the jjk cast!
i accept xreader, selfship, canonxcanon and ocxcanon commissions!
my prices are generally 10€ for every 1k words, meaning a 10k piece would cost you 100€, a 5k piece 50€, and so on :)
payment via paypal!
my specialty is writing suguru geto jjk & he is additionally the one i’m most comfortable writing smut, kink and dark content for, but i’m open to writing similar things for other charas in the cast too!
this is my kofi in case you’d like to make a donation! usually i would prefer earning them but again, things are pretty dire
usually people overreact with hyping up stuff on the internet but one thing that can never be hyped up too much is men moaning and whimpering and gasping and breathing heavily and stammering and grunting and huffing and—
Izumi’s fingers tightened around her brush. “Daddy.”
Still nothing.
You watched from your place nearby, already sensing the incoming disaster—and, very deliberately, not interfering.
“I’m serious about Uncle Iroh!” Izumi snapped, slamming her hands onto the table. Ink trembled in its dish. “You’re just sitting there with your book, and I’m trying to write to him and you know I don’t know how to spell!”
Zuko blinked, finally lowering the book just enough to look at her. “…You seemed busy.”
“I am busy!” she shot back immediately. “That’s why I need help!”
You pressed your lips together, shoulders shaking slightly.
Across the table, several scrolls were spread out in what Izumi clearly believed was a highly official system. Ink smudged her fingers.
One brush had been abandoned entirely—clearly defeated.
Zuko sighed quietly and closed his book, setting it aside. “…Alright,” he said. “What are you trying to write?”
Izumi huffed, dragging the scroll toward him with unnecessary force. “It says,” she began, pointing at the uneven ink, “Dear Uncle Iroh, Dad is not taking things seriously—”
“I am taking things seriously.”
“—and I think you should come back and fix it.”
You let out a quiet, traitorous laugh. Both of them looked at you. Zuko, mildly offended.
Izumi, deeply betrayed. “This is not funny,” she said.
“It’s a little funny,” you admitted.
“It is not,” she insisted, crossing her arms—an expression so identical to Zuko’s that it was almost unsettling.
Zuko noticed too. His mouth twitched despite himself. “…I’m taking things seriously,” he repeated, a little more defensively.
“Then help me spell,” Izumi said flatly.
A pause.
Zuko leaned forward slightly. “Alright. What word?”
Izumi straightened, all business again. “‘Important.’”
“…You almost had that one.”
“I did not,” she snapped. “That’s why I’m asking.”
You shifted closer, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. “We can help you together,” you said gently.
Izumi hesitated—just for a second—before nodding once. “Fine,” she said. “But we have to do it properly.”
“Of course,” Zuko murmured.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Properly.”
“…Properly,” he echoed.
A beat passed as the three of you leaned over the scroll. Ink. Paper. Quiet concentration.
Izumi carefully rewrote the first line, tongue peeking out slightly in focus. "Dear Uncle Iroh" She paused, then glanced up.
“…How do you spell ‘miss’?”
“…M–I–S–S,” he said quietly.
Izumi nodded, writing it down with great care.
I miss you.
Izumi leaned over the scroll again, carefully adjusting her posture like she was drafting a royal decree. “I got my hair done,” she announced proudly.
You blinked. “Since when?”
Zuko also looked up slightly. “You did?”
Izumi froze. Then slowly turned her head toward him. “See?” she said flatly, pointing at him with the brush. “Daddy, that’s why you’re not in the moment.”
Zuko frowned. “I am in the moment.”
“No,” she said, completely certain. “I showed you my hair but you were too busy looking at mommy’s hair instead.”
Silence. You choked. Zuko slowly turned his head toward you. “…I was?”
“I noticed,” Izumi added helpfully, already writing again like the conversation was closed.
You raised both hands defensively. “In my defense, I didn’t do anything.”
Zuko looked unconvinced. Izumi, meanwhile, continued writing with intense focus, tongue poking out slightly. “Anyway,” she muttered, “Uncle Iroh needs to know important updates.”
Zuko leaned back slightly. “Such as… your hair appointments?”
“Yes,” she said immediately. “It is very important information.”
Zuko rubbed his temple lightly. “I’m sure it is.”
“It is,” she repeated, pressing harder onto the brush like emphasis alone would make it more official. “Because presentation matters.”
You glanced at Zuko. “She’s not wrong.”
He gave you a look.
Izumi lifted her hand suddenly, fingers spread wide. “And I got my nails done.” You smiled.
Zuko leaned forward, squinting slightly. “Since when did you—”
“I showed you,” she cut in immediately, offended.
Zuko paused. “…When?”
Izumi slowly lowered her hand. Then turned to him again with that same deeply unimpressed expression. “When you were not in the moment,” she said. You made a small, strangled sound, quickly turning your face away.
Zuko stared at her, clearly trying to recall something that absolutely did not happen.
“…I don’t remember that.”
“That’s the problem,” Izumi replied flatly. She went back to the scroll, muttering as she wrote.
I got my hair done and my nails done.
She paused. Looked at her own writing. Then added, very deliberately:
Daddy did not notice.
Zuko leaned in. “…You don’t have to include that.”
“Yes I do,” she said without hesitation. “Because it is part of the report.”
“The report..” you echoed weakly.
“Yes,” Izumi said, completely serious. “Uncle Iroh needs to know what is going on here.”
Zuko exhaled slowly, like he was trying very hard to remain composed. “I am aware of what is going on here.”
Izumi looked up at him. “Then why didn’t you notice my nails?”
Silence.
You turned away again, shoulders shaking.
Zuko opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, carefully, he reached out and took her hand, turning it slightly to look. “…They look nice,” he said.
Izumi narrowed her eyes. “You’re just saying that now.”
“…No, I mean it.”
She studied him for a moment—really studied him—before giving a small, accepting nod. “Okay,” she decided.
Then, immediately back to business: “I will still write it down.” Of course she would. Zuko let out the faintest huff of a laugh, shaking his head as she continued her very official, very serious correspondence.
Izumi dipped her brush back into the ink with renewed focus, posture straightening like she’d just resolved a major political dispute.
“Next,” she muttered, mostly to herself. "Fire.."
Zuko leaned back slightly, watching her now instead of pretending not to.
You stayed close, your shoulder brushing his, both of you quietly observing as she worked.
Izumi’s tongue peeked out again as she wrote, slow and deliberate:
I am
She paused. “…How do you spell ‘practicing’?
Zuko answered this time without hesitation. “P–R–A—”
“I know how to start it,” she interrupted, frowning. “I just don’t know how it ends.”
You smiled softly. “C–I–N–G.”
She repeated it under her breath, then carefully added it to the line, brows furrowed in deep concentration.
I am practicing my firebending and I am getting better.
She sat back slightly, considering. Then added, smaller:
But sometimes it goes too big.
Zuko’s gaze softened almost immediately at that.
Izumi didn’t seem to notice. She just nodded to herself, “Honest,” she said.
“Very,” you murmured.
She tapped the brush lightly against the edge of the ink dish, thinking hard. “…And also,” she added, almost as an afterthought. The brush moved again. Slower this time. Less rigid.
Mommy and Daddy are helping me.
You felt it before you even fully read it—that small shift in the room.
Zuko didn’t move.
Izumi kept going, quieter now, like she wasn’t entirely aware of how much she was saying.
They are very busy but they still stay with me.
Your chest tightened.
Zuko’s hand, resting beside yours, shifted slightly—just enough that his fingers brushed against yours.
Izumi frowned faintly, like she was trying to find the right words for something she didn’t fully understand.
Then, carefully:
They are good at helping even when I don’t know what I need.
She paused again, staring at what she’d written.
Then added one last line, a little messier than the rest:
I like when we are together.
This time, she didn’t say anything after. Just stared at the scroll for a moment… then nodded, like she’d decided it was acceptable.
Zuko let out a slow breath you hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “…That’s a good letter,” he said quietly.
Izumi glanced up at him. “Of course it is.”
She stared at the scroll for a long moment, as if checking it for errors only she could see.
Then she nodded once, decisively. “Okay,” she said.
Zuko tilted his head slightly. “Okay?”
“I’m done,” she declared. You glanced down.
“All of it?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “It is complete.” She dipped the brush one last time, her movements slower now—less official, more careful. Like even she could tell this part mattered differently.
I hope to see you again soon.
She pressed her lips together, then added:
I miss you.
Her grip on the brush tightened slightly, but she kept going.
I love you.
No hesitation this time. Just certainty.
Izumi lifted her hand, studying the ink as if confirming it was strong enough to hold the feeling. Then she gave a small nod. As if satisfied. She set the brush down. “…Finished,” she announced.
Then Izumi pushed herself up from her chair. First she walked to you. She tugged lightly at your sleeve until you leaned closer. And without any ceremony at all, she pressed a small, quick kiss to your cheek.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
You blinked, smiling softly. “You’re welcome.”
Then she turned.
Walked to Zuko next. He didn’t even have time to straighten before she reached up, grabbed his sleeve like she owned it, and tugged him down slightly. A kiss to his cheek too.
“Thank you,” she repeated, just as seriously.
Zuko froze for half a second. Then, very quietly: “…Anytime.”
Izumi stepped back, satisfied, as if the matter was officially concluded. She looked at the scroll one last time. Then added, almost like an afterthought: “And I expect a response.”
You let out a soft laugh.
Zuko didn’t.
But the corner of his mouth lifted anyway as he reached over, gently steadying the scroll so it wouldn’t roll away.
Izumi was already standing there like she’d just concluded a royal summit.
“Alright,” you said, gently straightening up. “That’s enough excitement for today.”
Zuko nodded once, already half-reaching to gather the scattered brushes and scrolls. “Agreed,” he said. “It’s getting late.”
Izumi froze. Slowly turned her head. “…What?”
You blinked. “It’s bedtime.”
Zuko added, completely calm, “Yes. Time for bed.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
“NOOOOO—” Izumi’s entire soul left her body. She threw her arms up like she was personally betrayed by the universe itself, stepping back from the table in pure outrage.
You were unable to hide your smile. “Oh, the joys of parenting.”
Zuko didn’t even look back. “…The joys,” he echoed dryly.
✩꒱ you know what he said to me? he was like, you’re so mean! — ft. eijirou kirishima .ᐟ
🏁 ꒰ ✩ suggestive ⋆ mdni ⋆ pro hero eijirou kirishima & fem!reader. mean bf kiri and sweet gf reader. protectiveness, possessiveness, sleazy kirishima, subtle dollification, established relationship. -> sometimes your boyfriend likes to make you cry, only to kiss it better in dirty ways later on.
me too me tooo … it really tickles me !!!!! like eijirou with a sweet baby gf who cries so much all of the time. even better if you weren’t like that before you met him, you were sweet but not a pushover except he’s made it so easy to break you down these days, you’re always a few seconds from being on the verge of tears.
it’s like a test to him, to see if eijirou has you well trained enough to always come back to him now matter how far he’s pushed you to your limits.
“you didn’t have to do that.” you snap harshly even though your throat twitches tight as you turn the words over on your tongue. they land with very little bite, lost to the ambience of the city’s night life and the clickclack of your expensive heels against concrete pavement.
kirishima walks a few paces behind, leisurely, but his hazy ruby gaze tracks your movements — he’d never allow you to stray too far from home.
“do what, baby?”
that’s what makes you stop. his careless ease and the sound of a smirk stitching together his voice. eijirou kirishima is amazing at playing pretend — he lets tension roll off of his back as though it were nothing, as if he hadn’t nearly broken several fingers and severed a few nerves of your coworkers hand just for talking to you at the company dinner mere moments ago. your spine straightens but the edges and the lines of the world before you start to blur and smear as though someone has spilled water on your ink. tears bleed through your paper cheeks — where he’d be able to see how distraught you were just by holding you up to the light.
“he’s my coworker, eijirou. he was just being polite.” you sniff, not daring to look up nor force yourself to be level with his eyes. you rummage through your little purse for the car keys you’d sworn you had stashed beside your gloss earlier — because it distracts you from the sweltering heat of the man towering over you. “he’s nice.”
eijirou smiles, dangling silver keys and riot themed key chains before you. they glint tauntingly under the street lamp.
“am i not nice enough to you? is that why you let him get so close?” he teases you further.
denying him would be a lie. eijirou takes care of you, the point where your only concern, really, is breathing. there are groceries stocked in your fridge every weekend thanks to his dime, you get your dream clothes and dress pretty and the pro hero takes you for dinner at least three times a week. to say you live in luxury would be an understatement, every step you take is cushioned by comfort and at first… you loved it. you were pampered a little too much to notice the signs, the slick and grimy version of your boyfriend hiding deep within.
nowadays you grimace when he brings you flowers and cringe when he kisses the back of your hand at a steak dinner — but you’d never leave him, you’re caught like an insect in a treacly web or an ant who’s drowned in sugar water.
“you’re being awful right now, eiji.” you cross your arms instead — keep your honesty close to your chest. you give an inch and eijirou runs a mile because he lives for the way you can’t help but blubber when he makes you mad. it seems that his expression, all pearly white teeth and bright eyes, bleeds into his cheeks and his skin there folds with smile lines. you mirror his opposite — lip drawn into a pout.
the red head circles you, coming to stand before you. his smart leather shoes become a muddled blur alongside the stone grey pavement and atoll, his red is vibrant. like he’s supposed to be the only thing you focus on. “i am, aren’t i?” comes his patronising coo, the sound settling in your chest. “poor baby, i’m just so mean to you and i’m such a bad guy.”
“stop it.” you simper like a child, going on to deny the cotton words he puts in your mouth. “i — gosh — i never even said that.”
god, you feel like a child. being scolded for a lie you never told and he relishes in the way you shrink down to feel smaller than you are next to him. his sweet, sweet girl who takes being picked on like a champ.
kirishima bends to your height, head tilted to the side as he regards you with a blameless expression. “are you crying? you know, you’re real pretty when you cry.” the world would never believe you if you told on him. that their manly hero who strikes with red is no better than a high school bully.
he twirls the hem of your pale pink dress — a romantic sight to passers by. a sneering jab to you. a threat that sends a thrilling shiver down the segments of your spine that hardly helps you to stand tall. “c’mere.” kirishima mocks your pout — puckering up. “can i kiss you?”
you nod more with bambi eyes glossed over with angel’s tears. the hero stands high and mighty then, rough palms melding to the curves of your hips so that he can better drag you into him. they provide warming comfort where his eyes are cold and cruel — bemused by the silent snivels you weakly attempt to swallow down.
irregardless you’re magnetised to eijirou — standing on your tippy toes, craning your neck, lips pressed to his like you’ve sealed them with a promise. his thick, hot tongue swipe over the seam in an attempt to pry you open because you’re a flower. something precious and winds towards him and blooms just for him. he tastes like whatever sweet cocktail had happened to pass him by at the dinner table — syrup and sugar coated lies and love held underneath his tongue. he’s mean to you, yes, but oh does he adore you.
he kisses you like he owns you, right there amongst twinkling city lights and strangers passing by. you think you’ll learn to live with that, being his property, belonging to someone with enough power to protect. he’ll push and poke you but never away. always within reach, always so that he can lead you home.
you mewl in frustration when kirishima lets your lips go — following a filthy smack.
red riot laughs. “you told me to stop.”
“didn’t mean it.” you’re honest.
“you never do.” his grip steadily traverses your back, two hands enough to map out the entire expanse. “wanna take you home. be all over you. will you let me?”
…
he doesn’t take kind to your silence. “words, sweet thing. talk to me.”
“yes, you can take me home. i-i’d like that.” nodding again like a dumb little thing, you link your arms behind kirishima’s head — fingers finding purchase in his ruby mane. you bring him back to you.
eijirou pats your cheek. just once, not enough to be considered a slap. “and what else?”
“‘m talkin’ eijirou, i am!” you huff, close to stomping your feet. the tantrum brews like a tropical storm just off the coast — warm, with rain cloud tears that bring a sense of humidity in the form of arousal. kirishima gives you a pointed look and then: “i’m sorry for calling you mean.” you say in defeat, batting your eyelashes apologetically.
once more, he smiles — fond this time. “that’s right baby girl,” then he chuckles, growling at the little nip you give to his bottom lip. “when we get home, i want you on your stomach. ass in the air. no touchin’. i’ll show you how mean i can really be.”
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
