fireworksacrosshorizons - Tumblr blog

fireworksacrosshorizons · 21 days ago

Text

The Crimson Pact | Part 10

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Explicit Smut / NSFW. Minors DNI (Do Not Interact), Fingering, Touching, Penetrative Sex (P in V), Breeding Kink / Creampie, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance.

A/N: Here's part 10! Thank you to everyone who sent over messages and comments. I'm so glad so many of you are enjoying my series. Plot rolls in the first half of this, and there is smut at the end. :) Next chapter will also have smut just because I didn't want to rush any of the moments once again. But the plot and conflicts will really get rolling from here. I hope you all enjoy this one!

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 10:

Every Version of You

The bass thumped through the Huntrix penthouse, shaking the mirrored walls as Mira struck the next beat of the routine. Her cropped hoodie flew with each sharp turn, every kick hitting with fierce precision.

"One, two, spin, down—Rumi, Zoey, hit the arm combo together, please!" Mira barked.

Zoey huffed, brushing sweaty bangs from her forehead. "You're acting like we're going to war."

“We are,” Mira snapped. “This is Takedown, remember? Demon-dissing choreo has to be sharp. Idol Awards are in a few days. We’re not just performing—we’re making a statement.”

Rumi held her pose, chest heaving. Sweat dripped down her temple. “It’s just... hard to focus with everything going on.” She flopped onto the couch dramatically. “Speaking of which... has she replied yet?”

Mira paused, lowering her arms slowly. “Did she see your message?”

“She read it,” Zoey murmured, checking her phone. “No reply though.”

Mira exhaled sharply, arms crossed. “So she’s alive, at least.”

“Or...” Zoey’s voice trembled. “What if they just have her phone? What if she’s being controlled? Or trapped? What if she’s being held hostage?!”

Mira’s fists clenched. “If they’re keeping a human hostage—”

Zoey added, horrified, “What if they’re doing horrible things to her—”

“Oh, I think she might enjoy that...” Rumi muttered under her breath.

Both heads snapped toward her. “What was that?” Mira asked sharply.

“Nothing!” Rumi said quickly, brushing hair behind her ear. “Just... we don’t know the whole story.”

Zoey frowned, concern dark in her eyes. “Do you really think she’s okay?”

Rumi looked away. “Look... based on what we saw—they were protective. Obsessively, even.”

“That could be an act,” Mira snapped. “Demons don’t feel. They mimic. That’s how they manipulate humans.”

“You don’t know that.”

Mira narrowed her eyes. “Why are you defending them?”

“I’m not—” Rumi said, too quickly. “I just think... maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

The silence that followed was thick and tense. Zoey looked between her two friends, biting her lip in apprehension. “Okay, okay, let’s chill,” she said, forcing a weak smile. “How about we call it a day? Tomorrow we can try tracking her—maybe check traffic cams near her café?”

“She hasn’t been to her café,” Mira said coldly. “It’s closed. And her apartment? Empty for weeks. What else do you need? She’s with those demons.”

Then, quieter, sharper: “What if she knows?”

Rumi’s stomach twisted.

“What if she knows what they are—and still stays with them?”

Rumi didn’t answer. Maybe… she does know. Really know what they are, and yet… chooses to stay?

The girls filtered off to their rooms, tension unresolved. Mira’s footsteps were sharp and angry, Zoey’s slow and tired. But Rumi stayed.

She remained seated on the floor of the practice studio, knees curled to her chest, the city glowing behind her through the glass. Her muscles ached from hours of choreography, but her mind refused to quiet.

She could still hear Jinu’s voice. "We’re soulbonded."

There was something in the way he said it. Not just conviction, but reverence. Like the word meant more than the world itself. Like the bond wasn’t just real—it was sacred. And the others? The way they looked at you, hovered near you, protected you like something precious? It wasn’t just possession.

It was devotion. And maybe it was all a lie. Maybe Mira was right…

But Rumi couldn’t stop wondering: What if it wasn’t? What if demons could feel something that deep? That powerful?

What if… her father had felt it too?

The thought hit her harder than expected. It had been something she tried to brush off for days now, ever since Jinu had told her about the soulbond. She’d never known her parents. Just flashes in half-dreams and a handful of secondhand memories from Celine. But now, watching the way you looked at the boys—and how they looked at you—it stirred something in her chest.

Something unshaped. Undefined. Longing, maybe. Or just the ache of not knowing. Could her mother have loved like that? Could she have fought for something that impossible?

Rumi exhaled shakily and rubbed her arms, feeling the faint, cursed heat of her demon marks just beneath her skin. They had always marked her as different. Not enough of one thing. Too much of another. A walking half-truth Celine refused to explain.

She had tried asking before. Dozens of times. What was my mother like? Why did she fall in love with a demon? Who was he? Each time was met with silence. Each time: “You don’t need to know.”

But now Rumi did. She needed to know. Not just for herself. But for what was coming.

If you were really soulbonded to demons… If a bond that powerful could change the rules, rewrite the laws they’d lived under their entire lives— Maybe her parents had tried too. Maybe there was something they left behind.

And what if… that soulbond was somehow tied to their demise. She had to know- is that the same fate that awaited Jinu? The same fate that awaited you?

She stood slowly and walked to her bedroom closet, where a weathered duffel bag lay tucked behind rows of performance shoes. From its inner lining, she retrieved a small brass key—one she had stolen years ago from Celine’s drawer, hidden away on instinct. The key to a locked chest in her old childhood home. The one Celine had told her never to open.

Rumi stared at the key for a long moment. Then, she curled her fingers around it and whispered to the empty room:

“I’m sorry, Celine. But I need the truth.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The scent of sesame oil and gochugaru fills the air, warm and rich, as you perch on the edge of the kitchen island in Haneul’s oversized shirt, your bare legs swinging gently. Haneul hums quietly as he moves through the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, muscles still slick from earlier, now focused as he stirs a steaming pot.

“Kimchi jjigae tonight,” he says proudly, ladling a bit into a spoon and holding it up to your lips. “Taste this for me?”

You lean forward, letting him feed you. It’s spicy and savory, exactly how you like it. “Mmm. That’s perfect.”

“Perfect’s what you are,” he says, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His voice lowers, brushing with something more carnal. “I still haven’t recovered from earlier, y’know.”

You flush. “You’re not supposed to say that while cooking.”

“I can multitask,” he smirks.

Just then, a pair of warm hands glide around your bare thighs. You jump slightly as Seungho presses a kiss to your cheek from the side. He was shirtless, leaving his lean muscles out for you to admire. For someone who’s nicknamed “Baby”, he sure didn’t look it when he was dressed like this without the sweaters.

He slides between your knees, gaze half-lidded, teasing. “God, you look good like this,” he murmurs. “One of our shirts, no shame… You trying to kill me, baby?”

Your hand goes to push him away, but your smirk betrays you. “Just sitting here.”

“Yeah, and I’m just breathing,” he deadpans, “but apparently that’s a sin too.” His hand squeezes your thigh. “Keep testing me and see what happens.”

You giggle, clearly not sorry. Before he can get carried away, the front door bursts open.

“We’re home!” Seoha’s voice sings.

You hop off the counter just in time for Jinu’s arms to catch you mid-run. He pulls you into him like he hasn’t seen you in weeks, burying his face into your neck. “Missed you, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

Seoha’s next, sweeping you up and spinning you dramatically before peppering your face with kisses—forehead, nose, cheeks. “I nearly died from missing you,” he sighs, as if wounded. “I considered throwing myself into traffic.”

“Dramatic as always,” you roll your eyes, laughing.

“And yet you keep coming back to me,” he says smugly, carrying you bridal-style back to the kitchen. Seungho is already setting the table, now with a shirt on. Seoha plops down and keeps you seated firmly on his lap.

“So,” you ask, “what were you guys out doing?”

“Logistics,” Jinu replies. “Stage cues, wardrobe adjustments, dealing with sponsors. Idol Awards are in a few days.”

You blink. “It’s that soon?”

Haneul sets down a plate in front of you—steaming rice, kimchi jjigae, marinated beef, banchan laid out lovingly. You try to shift to your own seat, but Seoha tightens his arms around you.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispers into your ear, voice low and territorial. “Not after being away from me all day.”

Your face heats as you squirm in his hold. “Where’s Hwimori?” you ask, trying to redirect the attention.

“Studio,” Seungho says, grabbing another pair of chopsticks. “Hasn’t left it since noon.”

“He’s still working?” You frown. “He hasn’t eaten?”

“He never eats when he’s focused,” Jinu sighs. “Like a damn wolf on a hunt.”

Moments later, Hwimori finally comes down. His hair’s tousled, shirt inside-out. He pads over silently, bending to kiss the top of your head. You soften at the gesture. “You haven’t eaten anything, have you?”

He looks at you, startled. Then grins. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” you scold lightly. “Sit. Eat.”

His gaze dips to your hands as he picks them up to press soft kisses across your knuckles. “Your care for me is more filling than any meal, Y/N,” he murmurs, almost bashful—except for the glint of heat in his eyes.

You blush, looking away. "You say the creepiest sweet things..."

Dinner begins. Laughter, gentle clinks of chopsticks. They argue over which brand of soju is superior. Seoha tries to spoon-feed you until Jinu takes over with more finesse. Seungho complains, “You’re all obsessed,” to which they all agree.

“You are too,” Haneul deadpans.

You ask casually, “So what song are you performing for the Idol Awards?”

Hwimori looks up from his bowl. “It’s a new one. I’m halfway done with the mix.”

“Ooh, can I hear it?”

A pause. Their reactions don’t match your enthusiasm. “It’s not finished yet,” Seoha says quickly.

“You’ll hear it soon,” Jinu adds with a reassuring smile.

Your brow furrows—but you brush it off. Hwimori leans over to you. “Come to the studio after dinner,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

You nod, heart skipping a little.

The kitchen is filled with the comforting clatter of chopsticks and soft laughter, the scent of kimchi jjigae still thick in the air. You’re tucked on Seoha’s lap all throughout, your legs curled beneath you, a half-eaten spoonful paused in your hand as you watch the boys move through their dinner routine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jinu reaches across Haneul’s plate to steal a piece of beef. Haneul slaps his hand away without looking up.

Seoha rests his chin on your shoulder and softly nuzzles into your skin, murmuring, “You’re my favorite side dish.”

Seungho groans. “You’re disgusting.”

They argue. They tease. Hwimori eats quietly at the edge of the table, chopsticks in one hand, notebook beside him, already jotting lyrics and notes between bites. No one tells him to stop. No one complains that he’s multitasking again. You chew slowly, eyes drifting between them. And then you stop eating.

Something about this moment… it feels too good. Too quiet. Too normal. You set your spoon down and lean back slightly into Seoha’s chest, gaze flicking toward the warm kitchen light above the table. It bathes the boys in gold—catching on the edge of Hwi’s silver earring, the subtle curl of Jinu’s ink-black hair, the sweat still lingering on Haneul’s collarbone.

And you think— “This doesn’t look like a house full of demons.”

It looks like a home.

You glance at the sink, where Haneul now rinses a pot. Jinu has a towel draped over one shoulder as he air-dries dishes. Seoha’s rubbing a spot on your ankle like it soothes something in him just to touch you. And Seungho is yelling at the rice cooker as if it’s personally offended him.

You close your eyes for a moment and listen to the mundane sounds of it all—water running, footsteps padding on the floor, laughter, the scrape of porcelain. ‘Is this real?’ you think. ‘Or is this… something they’ve created for me? Something they’re maintaining so I don’t run?’

You remember what they said. How they’d waited lifetimes. How they knew you from before. How they love you, need you, worship you. But you also remember how you woke up here. The pain. The fear. The sheer loss of control.

‘They say they love me. But do they love me? Or the version of me they’ve carried for centuries?’

You swallow, suddenly unsure of your own heartbeat. The soulbond pulls tight in your chest like thread wound too firmly around your ribs. You can feel each of them—every glance, every flicker of emotion—and it’s overwhelming how much they feel. For you. But…

‘What if they’re just in love with the memory of me? With someone I don’t even remember being?’

You think of your past lives. The fragments that flicker in your dreams. A hand in yours. A kiss in the dark. Blood. Fire. Death. Always ending in death.

‘Do I even have a choice in all of this? Or is fate choosing for me?’

You open your eyes again and see Jinu watching you. Noticing. As always. His expression softens as your eyes meet. He doesn’t say anything, just sends you a smile that feels like it was forged in a lifetime of waiting. One that says, ‘We see you.’

Your chest tightens. Because you know what you're afraid to admit: ‘They make me feel safe. Even when they shouldn’t. Even when I know what they are.’

And still… Am I just playing a role? Or is this… actually love?

Your fingers brush your thigh, grounding yourself. Seoha murmurs something into your hair, and Haneul walks by and drops a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. Seungho brushes his fingers across your lower back in passing, almost unconsciously. They touch you like they need to make sure you’re still here.

And in that moment, you don’t have an answer. But you want to believe. You want this to be real. And maybe… just maybe…

You already do.

From the corner of your eye, you see Hwimori pause in the hallway. His fingers tap the doorframe, hesitant. His voice is soft, almost shy. “You coming?”

You blink up at him. His golden eyes catch the light. And just like that, the ache eases. “Yes,” you whisper. “I’m coming.”

His fingers find yours before you’ve even stepped into the hallway. Delicately, he laces your fingers together like he’s memorizing the shape of them, then brings your joined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles as you walk, eyes still fixed ahead. You swear you feel something in your chest flutter and curl at the gesture—quiet, unassuming, and completely devastating.

You don’t say anything. You just follow him.

Hwimori leads you gently through the dim apartment, the distant sound of dishes and laughter fading behind you. The studio door opens with a soft click, and the scent of sound foam and something faintly like cedar greets you. Inside, the room glows with a soft blue light from a large curved monitor, its screen filled with waveforms and sound levels. There’s a single black desk chair facing the setup, and handwritten notes scattered across the desk—some in Korean, some in English, a few in what looks like ancient runes.

He sits first, pulling you without a word into his lap. You settle there, curling comfortably against him, thighs warm over his, his hand never leaving your waist.

“This is where you work?” you murmur.

He nods against your shoulder. “Mhm.”

Your eyes roam across the workspace. “And this is where the magic happens?”

Hwimori hums again, the softest smile pulling at his lips. “Kind of. Jinu writes most of the lyrics. I handle the production, mixing, layering. Sometimes I add vocals.” He reaches to adjust a dial, the screen blinking in response. “This one’s still a work-in-progress.”

You tilt your head, reading the title scrawled in the corner of the page next to the monitor. “Your Idol.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Ominous.”

He gives a sheepish shrug. “Did you want to hear a little of it? I haven’t added in the final vocals yet.”

You grin. “Aren’t you cutting it a little close for the Idol Awards?”

His hand lifts, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture is tender—unconsciously so. “We’ll be singing live,” he murmurs. “This is just the backing track.”

You hum in understanding, but your eyes linger on his face. He’s usually so quiet, almost shadow-like. But in this space, surrounded by his work, his music, his presence feels different. Grounded. Whole.

He reaches behind you and gently lifts a pair of large over-ear headphones. “Here,” he says, placing them carefully over your ears. The size swallows your head a little, and you catch him smiling as he adjusts them.

“What?” you ask, your voice muffled.

He chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your nose. “You just look so cute.”

Your cheeks heat instantly, and you shift in his lap—just slightly. He doesn’t let you move far. His hands settle more firmly on your waist as he hits play. The first sound is a whisper.

Dies irae Illa…

A chant. Ethereal. Latin. So far removed from the sparkly, bubblegum tones of Soda Pop that it doesn’t even feel like the same group.

The low rumble of a bass begins to rise beneath the vocals. Haunting. Slow. Then the drop hits—hard, distorted, angry. Layers of eerie harmonies weave in and out, and a new pulse sets the rhythm. It's darker, heavier… yet oddly beautiful.

Your spine straightens instinctively. This doesn’t feel like an idol song. It feels like a warning.

After a minute or two, you carefully lift the headphones off, holding them in your lap as the silence returns to the studio. “It sounds… so different,” you say, your voice small.

Hwimori nods, looking straight ahead, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Jinu wanted to try something new.”

“Are you guys rebranding?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just hums quietly. “Something like that.”

You look at him then—really look.

Under the low studio light, his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and his bangs fall over his eyes in a silky curtain. You can’t help but reach up, brushing the corner of his hair. His eyes widen slightly, but he lets you. Your fingers tuck some strands behind his ears, revealing more of the amber in his gaze—molten, unblinking, completely focused on you. “You’re beautiful, Hwimori,” you whisper.

He exhales like you’ve struck something inside him.

Then—without a word—he buries his head against your chest, arms wrapping around your back as if he can’t bear a second more of not being as close as possible. You feel his breath stutter. Feel the silent emotion he doesn’t know how to say.

You stay there, letting the music fade behind you, and hold him like he’s always been yours. Neither of you speak for a long while. Just the soft whir of the monitor, the warm hush of breath between you. There’s a peace in it—a rare kind. But even in the quiet, something lingers. A hum beneath your skin. And he feels it too.

“I felt it,” Hwimori murmurs, voice muffled into the fabric of your shirt. “At dinner.”

You blink, confused.

“The way your heart pulled,” he clarifies, lifting his head slowly to look at you. His eyes are searching, soft. “You felt uneasy.”

You stiffen. There’s no use denying it—not to him. He sees right through you, like he always has. You look away, but his hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing gently over your skin, coaxing you back to him. You turn your gaze slowly, and he’s already watching you like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed to see.

“You were quiet for a little bit,” he says. “But not the kind of quiet you get when you’re sleepy or full. It was the kind that hurts.”

You flinch. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s so, so right. You don’t answer, and you don’t need to. Hwimori’s fingers gently reach for your cheek, brushing your hair behind your ear. His touch is impossibly tender. His gaze steady and warm.

“You’ve always been like that,” he says softly. “Since before you knew my name.”

You tilt your head.

“There was one night,” he continues. “From a long time ago. You were just a girl in a little village, taking care of too many people with too little help.”

A memory stirs. Familiar but distant. “It was after a long storm,” Hwimori says, voice laced with something warm. “Your roof leaked. The firewood got soaked. You’d spent all day patching it up with your bare hands, and you still went to the river to wash your siblings’ blankets by moonlight.”

You suck in a soft breath. He hadn’t been visible then. But he’d seen.

“I followed you there, like I always did. And you were singing to yourself, – albeit, a little off-key,” he chuckles, and you huff a soft laugh. “You were humming just to stay awake. Kneeling in the freezing water, shivering, hands raw. I could tell you were exhausted. Your voice was shaking.”

He pauses, as if savoring the memory. “And then a rabbit came to you. It was limping. Barely able to move. I thought you’d ignore it—you had enough to worry about. But you just… stopped everything. You dropped the blanket, picked up the rabbit, and tucked it in your coat.”

Your throat tightens. “You stayed like that, holding it. Rocking it. Whispering, ‘You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,’ like it was your own child.”

His voice drops to a whisper. “That’s when I knew,” he says. “That you had the gentlest heart I’d ever seen. Even after everything life had done to you, your instinct was still to love. To care. Even when you had nothing left.”

You can’t breathe for a moment. He presses his forehead against yours. “You made me want to be something more. Something that could hold you. Protect you. Stay beside you. That was the first night I had ever desired to be more. To be felt. So I could feel you.”

You don’t realize tears have welled in your eyes until he brushes them away with the soft pad of his thumb. Hwi’s words hang in the air like the final note of a love song — quiet, aching. His eyes shimmer, blinking slowly beneath your gentle touch.

You stare at him, overwhelmed. And then… The doubt creeps in again. It’s a quiet voice, but sharp. Your fingers still on his cheeks.

“What if…” your voice cracks slightly. “What if that wasn’t me?”

He blinks.

“What if the girl you saw that night—the one who rocked a dying rabbit to sleep—was someone else? Someone better? I might be her soul, but I’m not her. I don’t remember that life. I don’t sing at the river. I haven’t—haven’t done anything like that. I’m not soft like she was. What if you’re feeling all these things for someone that doesn’t exist anymore?”

Your heart aches at the words. And you hate that you mean them. You try to look away, but he catches your chin—gently, like a thread of silk. He doesn’t force you to meet his gaze. Just holds you still, holds you softly.

And he whispers: “But you are her.” His thumb brushes your cheek. “You’re the same soul who reached for a broken thing instead of turning away. You’re the same heart that gave kindness without needing a reason. You still do. Every single day.”

You tremble slightly, lips parting. But he isn’t finished. “I didn’t fall in love with a girl who sang to the river. I fell in love with the soul that chose to love, even when it hurt. Even now—when you could hate us, when you should be afraid—you still sit here with your arms around a demon and ask if your love is real.”

He leans in slowly, forehead pressed to yours, and his voice drops lower.

“That’s you. That’s always been you. No matter how many lives we live. I’ll always know you. Even if the world forgets. I’ll know your soul, and how it calls for me. And I will always answer.”

Tears blur your vision as you swallow hard. He smiles softly—barely there, but achingly real. “You could cut your hair, pick up new hobbies, forget how to sing, fall in love with different books, dress differently, dream new dreams…”

His voice lowers, “And I would still find ways to love every version of you. Every change. Every chapter. Because it’s still you. Your soul is eternal. And I was made to follow it.”

His thumb brushes away a tear that slips down your cheek. “That’s what love is, isn’t it? Not clinging to who someone was—but choosing them again and again, as they become. I’ve done it for centuries. And I’ll do it for as many more as you’ll let me.”

And then he whispers—almost breathlessly— “My name is Hwimori… because I needed a name to worship you with. It’s the name you gave me. As long as you call me, I will always answer. In every life.”

You break, tears fully running now. Your heart hurts in the most beautiful way — with the kind of love that makes your whole body ache. A sound escapes you- half sob, half chuckle in disbelief. It was almost unreal, the love they had for you. The love Hwimori had for you. The love you were starting to remember you had for him, and the love that was growing rapidly in your chest for all of them.

“You say the most beautiful things…” You say breathily, hands wiping away your tears. You reach for him again. His face. His eyes. You unclip your hairpin and clip his bangs back fully, needing to see all of him, this creature made of devotion.

His eyes are breathtaking. Violet and gold and amber, like the inside of a star. Lashes long, silver, like dust spun from moonlight. And all of it—all of him—was made for you. This soulbeast became a man just to stay by my side.

Your loyal, wild-hearted creature. The one who never asked for anything but to be near you. Your lips brush over his eyelids. He shudders. A soft, needy sound escapes him—barely a breath.

You kiss the other. He exhales like he’s letting go of centuries of longing. Then his nose. His cheeks. His jaw. And when your lips finally meet his— He melts.

He melts into you like you’re the only thing he’s ever needed. The only warmth he’s ever known. The bond between you hums, low and deep, like a drumbeat just beneath your ribs. And in his kiss, there is nothing but truth.

It starts slow. Hwimori kisses you like a creature in worship, his lips brushing yours in soft, fleeting touches. Then he deepens it, and it changes. Desperation curls at the edges. His tongue traces your bottom lip before claiming your mouth fully, and you feel it—his need, his hunger, his aching loyalty.

Like a beast starved, yet patient. Like he’s memorizing the shape of you, the taste, the scent. His hands glide along your hips, pulling you tighter against him. You gasp slightly as you feel the heat of his arousal press up beneath you through his clothes. Your thighs clench instinctively.

You shift in his lap, just enough to grind against him—slowly, deliberately. His breath catches, and a low whimper escapes his throat, sharp and broken.

“Ah… d–don’t do that,” he pleads, his voice ragged. His fingers clench at your hips, claws nearly unsheathing. “You don’t know what you’re waking up in me, my love…”

Your eyes glint with a teasing defiance. So you do it again.

And he breaks.

With a growl, Hwimori stands in one smooth motion, lifting you effortlessly. You squeal softly in surprise but he doesn’t release your lips—not for a second. He walks you across the studio and lowers onto the velvet couch with you straddling him, breath hot and wild. His hands roam beneath your shirt, sliding up your back as he kisses you harder—possessive, trembling with restraint.

“Is that what you want?” he growls softly. “To see what I become when I stop pretending to be tame?”

───────── SMUT ─────────

He lifts your shirt in one motion, leaving you bare save for the thin fabric of your panties. His breath hitches as he looks at you—chest rising, flushed, vulnerable. Worshipful silence falls over him for just a second. His gaze travels up—devouring you slowly—and when your eyes meet, it nearly steals the air from your lungs.

There’s nothing human in his expression. Just awe. Hunger. Adoration so intense it borders on unhinged. His hands grip your thighs, fingers trailing up, rough and hot all at once. “You’re mine,” he breathes—low, almost like a growl against your skin. “You’re my soul. My everything. The reason I even have this form.”

You lean forward to kiss his neck, pressing soft kisses against his pulse. You couldn’t help yourself. Not when his face looked like that. Flushed, needy, and oh so beautiful you could combust. He shudders beneath you.

Your hands slide beneath his shirt, fingertips brushing his skin. He moans—a raw, choked sound—and you feel the muscles of his torso tense beneath your touch. You peel the fabric off him slowly, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest and arms, and your breath catches at how perfectly carved he is. Like a statue built to guard you.

You kiss down his chest, lips leaving warm trails as his hands grip yours tightly, long fingers intertwined with your own. He trembles beneath your mouth.

“I love it when you touch me like that,” he murmurs, breath shaky. “It makes my skin sing. Makes my heart believe I’m not dreaming you.”

You feel him twitch beneath you as your hips move again, wetness pooling between your legs. Your mouth curls into a sly smirk. “Lucky for you, I can make those dreams into a reality.”

He groans at your teasing, eyes alight with fire. His mouth finds your neck, biting softly—claiming. You gasp as you feel his fingers trace the line of your damp panties. He groans, “You’re soaking. Just from my voice? My fingers?” His voice dips into a snarl, “This little body is desperate for me, huh? You were made to take me.”

The sound of his voice, so heavy and laced with desire almost makes you cream. You nod obediently, bottom lip captured beneath your teeth. “Uh huh,” you mutter faintly.

He slides your panties to the side and growls low in his throat as he feels how wet you are for him. His fingers glide through your folds before slowly sinking one inside you. You cry out softly at the sudden stretch, clutching onto his shoulders.

“So tight,” he pants, pressing his forehead to yours. “Always so tight for me. You let me in so easily… like your body already knows me.”

A second finger joins the first, and he begins a slow, precise rhythm, watching your every expression like he’s memorizing your ruin. His thumb brushes your clit, and your body jolts in response.

“Hwi,” you moan, kissing his temple as your eyebrows furrow in pleasure. “It feels so good. You feel so good-”

He growls in satisfaction, your name leaves his lips like a prayer—hoarse, wild. “I can feel you through the bond,” he gasps. “Every pulse, every squeeze—fuck, it echoes in me—I’m going insane with it—”

Your walls tighten around his fingers, your breath stuttering. You grip his hair and moan into his mouth as he kisses you through it, slow and deep and so loving it aches. And when you come undone, trembling, pulsing around his fingers—he kisses you like he needs it to survive. Like your pleasure is oxygen. Like he feels the intensity of your undoing.

He pulls back only when your body softens against him, watching you pant and tremble in his lap. Then, without a word and without tearing his eyes off yours, you watch as he raises his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers clean—moaning low, possessive heat flashing in his eyes.

“Every drop of you is mine,” he growls, licking the corner of his lips. “You taste like spiritfire. Like everything I’ve ever wanted and could never reach—until you let me.”

His words send a jolt of arousal through you. Endless heat pooling at your core. For him. A sudden idea pops into your head. You barely recover before you lean forward, lips brushing his neck, your hand drifting low with intent. He freezes as your fingers brush his waistband.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice husky, breathless.

You smile softly, gaze heated. “You’ve tasted me,” you whisper. “Isn’t it only fair I get to taste you?”

His eyes go wide. “My love… you don’t have to—”

You kiss his neck, then down his torso, across his abdomen until you plant a kiss on his hipbone and feel him twitch. “I want to,” you say. “Let me give you a preview of your birthday gift…”

He groans, head falling back as your fingers slide beneath his waistband, breath shuddering with anticipation. Your fingers wrap around him—thick, flushed, twitching with need—and stroke him once, slow.

Hwimori’s head snaps back. A breathless moan rips from his throat, desperate and shaking.

“Gods—your hands,” he pants. “Soft… warm… like they were made just to touch me…”

You pull the waistband of his shorts and his cock springs free. Hot and huge against your face. Hwi looks down at the sight of you kneeling before him in awe. Watching how you look so pretty next to his aching shaft. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear lovingly.

You stare at his member before you, albeit a little bit intimidated as there’s no way that’s all going to fit in your mouth. As if he could read your mind he says gently, “You don’t have to baby. You can just take what you can, or even-”

His sentence it cut short as you lean in, tongue trailing up his length in one long, slow stroke—and he chokes on a groan so wrecked it echoes in your chest. “F-fuck—” His thighs jerk beneath you. His claws tear faintly into the couch cushions, muscles trembling. “Baby, don’t—don’t tease me like that—”

But you do. Again.

Your tongue trails ever so slowly from the thick base all the way to the tip, swirling around the head of his shaft. Hwi’s head tilts back in pleasure, a helpless groan escapes him as he clutches his hands tight against the couch.

You look up at him through your lashes prettily, “But it’s so fun seeing you like this, Hwi…”

Your fingers flutter against the base and corners of him and it has him bucking his hips in desperation. Now you understood why they liked seeing you beg so much… this kind of power was something you could get drunk with. And seeing Hwi’s desperate reactions, how crazy you’re making him right now, was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

"Fuck baby you're driving me crazy," he groans, “My love, please—”

You take him into your mouth—his tip brushing the back of your tongue—and he gasps. His whole body tenses under your touch. Then he breaks.

A cry, ragged and raw. His hands fly to your hair, trembling fingers carding through the strands, gently cradling the back of your head like you’re something sacred. “Fuck,” he groans at the feel of your hot mouth wrapped around him. He’s never felt this kind of pleasure before in his life, and it was driving him absolutely mad.

His hips buck just slightly—restrained. Worshipful. Still trying to hold himself back for you. He was quite girthy, so you took what you could in your mouth and used your hands to cover the rest. Your fingers wrapped around him, twisting in opposite directions.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he breathes, voice barely coherent. “You’re too much—I can feel everything—every flick of your tongue, every sound you make—gods, your mouth is heaven—”

You suck gently, cheeks hollowed, lips slick around him—and he keens, hands trembling. His body begins to shimmer. Veins glowing faintly beneath his skin. Ethereal demon markings pulse along his torso, crawling upward like wildfire. His beast is showing. His restraint, unraveling.

“You’re not just touching my body,” he gasps. “You’re inside my soul. I can feel it—every moan you make, I feel it in me, like I’m the one falling apart—fuck, baby—please—”

He thrusts gently into your mouth, hips rocking upward with a soft growl. The sounds he makes—raw, primal, completely lost in you—only make you want to worship him more. His hands are tangled in your hair, pushing you down gently to take more of him. You loved the sounds he was making. You loved how good you were making him feel. You look up at him from under your lashes and moan at the sight.

His face, flushed with heat and eyes hot with desire, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Like he’s careful not to break you but also holding himself back from thrusting in too deep into your mouth. He looked like you were undoing him from the inside out. You moan at the beautiful sight of him and he tips his head back hotly at the vibrations wrapped around him.

But then—his grip suddenly tightens, trembling.

“Stop—baby, stop—” he whimpers. “I’m gonna cum—gods—I can’t—”

He pulls you off with a wet gasp, eyes wide, chest heaving, cock glistening in the low light. He’s panting. Shaking. Eyes blown wide with lust and love and awe. You’re confused for a moment, a quick flash of insecurity rushes through you. Did he not like it—

“I need to be inside you,” he says, voice hoarse. “Now. I need it—I need you. Please—please—”

Oh.

He pulls you into his lap again, cradling you like you’re fragile. His face was filled with need and so much yearning. He wanted– no, needed you wrapped around him. Badly.

You smile slightly. He was so cute like this, and so hot. You shift on top of him. His hands fly to your ass, desperate and needy. You tilt his head up. Eyes molten pools of gold and violet. And without breaking eye contact, you line him up beneath you, and slowly, slowly, you sink down onto him.

And it shatters him.

Hwimori moans—loud and aching—head falling back, mouth open in a soundless cry. His claws dig into your hips like anchors, and his whole body trembles. You look at him, mouth parted slightly at the huge stretch of him sinking deeper into you. You moan and whimper at the feeling.

“You’re so warm—tight—fuck, I can feel your soul—” he gasps, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. His hands guide your hips lower, sinking himself deeper inside you. You feel as if there was no end. Every inch sinks in deliciously with a stretch, reaching places within you so deep it almost has you seeing stars.

You both grunt as he bottoms out, your head sinking into his shoulder as he stills inside you, allowing you to accommodate the sheer size of him.

“You feel incredible – fuck.” The last word is broken, shattered.

You start to move—slow, deliberate—rocking your hips against him with sensual grace. He gasps softly at the friction, hands tightening on your waist like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world.

Then his eyes meet yours. Wide. Wild. Awestruck. Shining like he’s beholding something holy. “You’re inside me too,” he whispers, voice trembling. “Every part of you… your heart, your voice… it’s echoing in my chest—I can feel you in my soul…”

“Really?” you breathe, stunned by the depth of it and his connection with you. Your body trembles. He nods, mouth parted, lips pink and kiss-swollen. “It’s like the bond has no beginning or end. Just you… burning in me.”

You lift your hips—slow, torturous. His cock drags along your walls and you feel him twitch inside you, thick and hot and pulsing. Then you drop your hips again, taking him deep—and he moans. It vibrates through both your chests, your moan echoing right after, the soulbond creating a perfect feedback loop of heat and pleasure.

You start to ride him—slow at first, letting him feel every wet drag of your walls. His hands explore you like he’s mapping the surface of a dream. They roam up your thighs, over your hips, along the delicate curve of your spine. He cups the back of your head with one palm, the other pressing into the small of your back as if he could hold your soul there forever.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs through gasps. “So powerful. So fucking mine.”

You roll your hips harder, drawing circles with your pelvis—and his eyes flutter, his body arching up into yours. Then you lean close, kiss his throat, and moan his name softly into his skin.

And it breaks him.

With a snarl, his hands shoot to your waist. He growls—a deep, primal sound—and in one quick, fluid movement, he flips you.

You barely register the shift before you’re on your hands and knees, breath caught in your throat, his chest behind you, his cock pressed at your entrance from behind—hard, throbbing, wild with need. And then he drives into you.

Hard.

You cry out, hands fisting in the cushions for support as his cock spears deep, reaching places unknown in this new position. The sheer force of his thrust makes you jolt forward—only for his arms to pull you back again, anchoring you against him.

He finds his rhythm. Deep. Powerful. Devastating. Like an beast on a mission to claim.

“Your scent,” he pants, voice guttural, animal. “Your voice—your fucking moans— they make me crazy. I want you messy. I want you needy. I want you like this every day.”

He’s slamming into you now, sweat-slick and burning hot. You cry out as his hips meet yours with obscene sounds, your skin echoing against his like drums to some ancient mating rhythm. His demon patterns were on full display now, no longer able to hold back any longer his primal urge to mark you, to claim you.

You arch back into him, sobbing out his name again and again—and it shreds what little restraint he had left.

He growls, fangs bared, and pushes your chest down flat into the velvet. Your cheek rests against the cushion, stomach flat against the couch, hips raised high as he looms over you, his weight pressing your back flat with his own.

Now he’s fucking you in earnest. Hard. Fast. Possessed. His lips drag across your spine, fangs grazing the curve of your shoulder. Your cries are muffled against the cushions. His nose presses into the crook of your neck, inhaling you like it’s all he needs to live.

“You were made for this,” he snarls, breath shaking. “To be mine. To take me—all of me. Gods, you fit me so perfectly. So fucking perfectly—”

Your moans crack into gasps, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity. “Yours,” you mumble, almost deleriously against the velvet. “I’m yours, Hwi-”

Every thrust punches a cry from your lungs. Every kiss down your spine lights up your nerves like lightning. Your walls clench tighter and tighter—every stroke inside you driving you closer to a cliff you can’t see the bottom of.

“Let me mark you,” he begs. “Please. Let me leave something of me on you.”

You nod, helplessly. And he bites down on the side of your neck—not enough to break skin, just enough to claim. Your back arches under him, body trembling as he groans against your skin.

“I want you warm and full and mine,” he growls. “Let me fill you. Let me stay inside you.”

You scream his name as your orgasm crashes over you—twitching around him, sobbing, shattering. White hot pleasure sizzles down your spine and in your core as you close your eyes at the sheer intensity of it. The bond explodes in your chest. Your pleasure echoes into his—his hips falter, then slam one final time—

He moans your name as he cums. Buried deep. Hot, thick, endless.

He jerks as he empties himself into you, cock twitching inside your still-clenching walls, his breath catching as his entire body locks above yours. You feel every spurt of him flood you—so full you feel it dripping down your thighs.

His hands have yours pinned by your head, fingers intertwined and tight against yours as he crashes through his release. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull out. He just collapses over you. Breathing ragged. Arms caging you beneath him possessively. Nose in your neck.

And you—soaked, trembling, filled and full of him—let yourself melt beneath his weight. Safe. Claimed. His.

──────── SMUT ENDS ────────

“I’ll never let you go,” he breathes against your skin. “Even if all that’s left is instinct… I’ll love you in every form. Every time you’re born, I’ll find you. And I’ll love you again.”

You turn your head to meet his eyes, breath still shaking. “Yours, Hwi. You have me.”

His kiss is searing as he presses it to your cheek, your ear, your temple. And he whispers, broken and beautiful: “Mine.”

The bond pulses one last time. Then it quiets. Wrapped around each other. Hearts tangled. Souls glowing.

Beast and tether.

His weight is still pressed against your back—hot, heavy, anchoring. But his thrusts are gone now, replaced by slow, trembling breaths against the shell of your ear. The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the bond and the thunder of two hearts tangled together.

You feel his arms tighten around your waist like he’s scared you might slip through them. “Hwi,” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak at first—just buries his nose into your hair and breathes you in like a prayer. Then, softly, brokenly: “Thank you.”

You blink. “For what?”

“For… this. For you. For letting me—” His voice cracks. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel you like this. Not with skin. Not with hands. Not like this…”

You turn in his embrace, and he lets you, gently helping you onto your back. He hovers above you, eyes shining with something too big to hold. “I was never supposed to be this,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I was a spirit. A guardian. A thing without touch, without form. But I would've given it up a thousand times over. I did—for you.”

He lowers his forehead to yours, his silver lashes brushing your skin. “If falling from grace means I get to hold you like this—love you like this—I’d fall every time.”

Your throat tightens, your heart breaking and healing in the same breath. “You’re not fallen,” you say, gently brushing his cheek. “You just… came home.”

He swallows hard, eyes closing at your touch. He kisses your palm, your wrist, then your chest—over your heart. And stays there, listening. “I’ll love every version of you,” he murmurs against your skin. “Even the pieces you haven’t met yet. Even the parts that change.”

You take his face in your hands, and he melts into them, leaning into your touch like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. “Thank you.” You say, “For always reassuring me. For loving me like this. Hearing you say things like that, makes it sound too good to be true.” You sigh, “I can’t believe you want to be mine-”

“I only ever knew how to be yours,” he says, voice trembling. “I don’t know how to be anything else. And now that I’ve had you like this… I can’t go back.”

Your breath hitches.

“I live to worship you,” he whispers. “To care for you. Provide for you. Cherish you. Love you. Every version. Every life. Every shape you take.”

Something in you shatters. You let out a soft sound—half sob, half laugh—and press a thousand kisses to his shoulder, his collarbone, his cheeks, his hands.

“You don’t know what that does to me,” you whisper. “To be loved like this. After years of solitude. Loneliness…”

He hushes you gently, laying his head against your chest as you softly play with his hair. “I’m here now,” he says. “You won’t ever be without me. Without us.”

His arms tighten again around your middle. His voice is quieter now, small and honest. “I won’t just stand by this time,” he promises. “I won’t let the world take you from me again. I don’t care what I become. I’ll fight fate, gods, time—everything. I’ll bare my teeth and rip the stars down if they try to take you.”

You smile faintly through the warmth in your chest. “Sounds like my beast.”

He grins, eyes glassy with emotion. “I’d burn the sky just to keep you in my arms.”

Then he shifts, wrapping you in his shirt and lifting you in his arms. Your head rests tiredly on his shoulder as he walks and carries you to your room.

Opening the door, he walks over to the bed and places you on it gently. He gets in right next to you—pulling the blanket over both of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking you close until your legs tangle and your bodies settle in perfect symmetry.

He presses one last kiss to your forehead and whispers, “Sleep now, my love. I’ll guard your dreams.”

And you do. Wrapped in his warmth. His scent. His soul.

Belonging. At last.

TO BE CONTINUED

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Mystery/ Hwimori gets his turn on this one. Wrote this with all my Hwimori girls in mind. I figured his go would be a bit different as he's a soulbeast and always had this type of spiritual connection to the reader. Seeds of doubt slowly creep into her mind in this one as well. Hwi silences them for now, but who knows where they'll go in the next chapters. I think you all know who comes next ;) Let me know what you guys think, and as always, thank you for reading! Much Love, Willa x

───────── ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆ ─────────

Taglist: @emily-2010 @indigogo3031 @akiraadoesthingz @just-a-blue-nerd @lucy-loaf @natpakk @l0wlifepr1ncess @akirafushiguro @rubyninja1 @shellsarepretty @random5sthings @bakusquadobsessed @sirens-and-moonflowers @faerie-soirxx @luluprincess230lp @maiznamai @miss-goldenweek @ilovemyths2003 @amercanfailure @selena-rocker27 @nubyeol @type-ink @rissareader @sillygirlnat @accountforreading123 @sungjinwooscertifiedwife @imissnanami @ateezswonderland @athena-portgas @atl4ntxc @badbishsblog @bearb33 @beppybeesnuggets @bloobewy @booknerd2004 @candylandrules @casperleghosty @chirikoheina @chugjugg @cloudfxvrs @cottonheadedninnymugggins @crustypatatos @dragongirl642 @eggosside @enerofairy @ezri261 @faerie-soirxx @fanficriter @ffcfffr @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r @girlwiththegoats @givecyrustheirflowers @insomniacfigure @invinciblewaffles @irethepotato @iv-vee @izzieg3987 @jamaicanqueen007 @jamerlynn @justanerd1 @lavnderluv @letsmakethingsclear-ididntask @levifiance @limerenceisserenity @littlemissfix-itfic @littlepotaaatosimp @loomindoors @lovely-maryj @lovely-tulipp @lovelymelon @luxylucylou @maniacalism @meeeegaaan @mel3484 @meridian-of-misery @miffysoo @airwolf92 @akira-yan @aleclockwood @amercanfailure @animal-and-flower-lover @anisimp @anonymousewrites @apelepikozume @arieslucy @perfectlywingedflower @permanently-tired-pigeon @pleasantlyspookycreation @pookiei-bookie @poptrim @procookie2007 @qmabailor @quantumorquanta @raineandcl0uds @realifezompire @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @saltedcoffeescotch @sarah22447 @scaranao @shadowlover321 @shadyplaidwagonmuffin @shinebright2000 @sin-for-jin @sleepyamaya @slutforsmut4ever @sollum @soy-soi-si @gwinamlvr @h3110-dar1in9 @hi-itsmee28 @himikoquack @hornehlittleweeblet2 @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @imjusthereforthecake56 @insane-scientist @spiderset @sra7riddle-malfoy @starlight100 @storyteller-le @strayharmony943 @sunoosmainchick @tenaciouskittenpuff @the-sweet-psycho @tommyinnit-kinnie @udejoenrlddo @unadulteratedwizardrunaway @unsolicitedopal @venommie @vi1326 @vita-nire @vixyvlo @weponxwrites @wpdarlingpan @yandereaficionado @yepitsmesendhelp @your-favorite-god @yumekono @zuhaeri @misdollface @mitsuakashi @mjustag1rl @moonlight-rosevine @mossy-luna @mshope16 @natllo @nesrynsblog @neuvilletteswife4ever @nonetheartist

2K notes · View notes

fireworksacrosshorizons · 21 days ago

Text

cuddling in the quiet after a fight with dabi would include…

he doesn’t apologize right away. he’ll sit in the doorway. smoke a cigarette with shaking fingers. jaw tight. breathing uneven. because he knows he took it too far, said something cruel. he always does when he’s scared.

you think he’s going to leave. he doesn’t, and eventually mutters, “you still mad?” not because he thinks you shouldn’t be, but because he hates knowing he’s the reason your eyes are red.

when you don’t answer, he comes over slowly. hesitant. awkward. like he’s not sure he deserves to touch you. but when he does? it’s soft. so soft for a man made of broken glass. fingers ghosting over your shoulder. “can i hold you?”

you curl into his chest, and he holds you like he’s scared you’ll vanish. tight. arms around your waist. chin tucked into your hair. his heartbeat is fast. you don’t speak. neither does he.

but his grip says everything. he whispers, eventually. “didn’t mean it. i was just pissed. scared. you know how i get.”

he buries his face in your neck. not for comfort, but because he doesn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes. you feel his breath stutter. “you mean more to me than this stupid fight.”

one arm stays around your waist. the other strokes up and down your spine, slow and trembling. like he’s grounding himself through the shape of you. like you are the reason he’s still breathing.

you press your forehead to his. and that’s when he breaks. his voice is barely there, lips brushing yours. “don’t leave. even if i fuck up.”

eventually, he speaks a little louder. with his thumb tracing your ribs under your shirt. “you’re the only thing that makes me feel human anymore. if i lost you, i wouldn’t survive it.”

he kisses you like you’re fragile. like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. no tongue. no heat. just slow, gentle presses of his mouth against yours. over and over and over. “still love you,” he murmurs between them. “even when i’m a fucking disaster.”

and the rest of the night you stay tangled together. on the floor. on the bed. doesn’t matter. legs knotted. hands clasped. cheek against chest. silent. safe. still hurting, but together.

856 notes · View notes

fireworksacrosshorizons · 28 days ago

Text

FLAMES AND LOVINGLY VOWS .

⌗ synopsis: when you and dabi confess your desire to get married despite being unable to legally do so as villains, toga and twice overhear your conversation and decide to take matters into their own hands.

⌗ pairing: (MHA/BNHA) dabi/touya todoroki x fem! reader

⌗ anon request: dabi x shy!fem!reader and they want to be married but as villains legally cannot be so somehow it got out that you two wanted to be married (toga and twice eavesdropping) so then toga made a makeshift wedding. she’d make a cake and throw you two a small party and made sure from that day on people called you Mr and Mrs Todoroki etc

⌗ a/n: none!

the hideout was unusually quiet that evening, save for the soft crackling of the fireplace and the gentle sound of pages turning. you sat curled up in the corner of the worn couch, a book balanced on your knees, stealing glances at dabi who lounged across from you. his turquoise eyes were fixed on the dancing flames, lost in thought.

"something on your mind?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. even after all this time together, speaking up still made your cheeks warm.

dabi's gaze shifted to you, and that familiar smirk tugged at his scarred lips. "just thinking about us,"

your heart skipped. conversations like this had become more frequent lately – quiet moments where the notorious villain let his guard down, where touya todoroki peeked through the cracks in dabi's armor.

"what about us?" you managed, closing your book and giving him your full attention.

he was quiet for a long moment, his fingers absently tracing the seams of his coat. "ever think about... i don't know, making it official? you and me?"

the book slipped from your hands, landing with a soft thud on the floor. "official?"

"marriage," he said simply, but there was something vulnerable in his voice that made your chest tight. "i know it's stupid. we're villains, we can't exactly waltz into city hall and get a license. but sometimes i think about it – about calling you mrs. todoroki, about having something real that's just ours."

your breath caught. dabi rarely spoke about the future, about anything beyond the next mission or the next fight. but here he was, talking about forever.

"i'd like that," you whispered, your cheeks burning. "i'd like that a lot."

his expression softened, and he reached across the space between you, his warm hand finding yours. "yeah?"

"yeah." you squeezed his fingers. "i don't need a piece of paper to know what we have is real."

unknown to either of you, two figures pressed against the wall just outside the common room, listening intently.

"oh my god, oh my god!" toga whispered excitedly, bouncing on her toes. "did you hear that, twice? they want to get married!"

"that's so romantic! that’s none of our business!" twice hissed back, his voice split between his two personalities.

toga's eyes gleamed with mischief and genuine affection. "we have to do something! they deserve a wedding!"

"a wedding? absolutely not!" twice argued with himself, but toga was already formulating a plan.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

three days later, you woke up to find toga practically vibrating with excitement outside your door.

"good morning, bride-to-be!" she sang, grabbing your hand and pulling you from your room before you could fully process what was happening.

"bride-to-be?" you stammered, still in your pajamas.

"don't play dumb! we heard everything!" toga grinned, dragging you toward the common area. "and today's the day!"

the common room had been transformed. mismatched flowers (definitely stolen) were arranged in makeshift vases around the room. white sheets hung from the ceiling like draping, and someone had set up chairs in rough rows. the coffee table had been cleared and covered with a white tablecloth, topped with what appeared to be a homemade cake that leaned precariously to one side.

"toga, what is all this?" you asked, your voice squeaking.

"your wedding!" she announced proudly. "if the government won't let you get married, we'll do it ourselves!"

dabi appeared from the kitchen, looking as bewildered as you felt. "what the hell—"

"language! it's your wedding day!" toga scolded, then clapped her hands together. "okay, bride, you're coming with me. groom, twice will help you get ready. we have two hours!"

before either of you could protest, you were swept away to toga's room, where she had laid out a white dress she'd somehow acquired. it was simple but beautiful, and surprisingly, it looked like it would fit.

"toga, i can't—this is too much—"

"nonsense!" she was already pulling out makeup and hair supplies. "you love him, he loves you, and love should be celebrated! besides, we're villains – we take what we want, and what you want is to marry dabi, right?"

you looked at yourself in the mirror, imagining yourself in the dress, imagining dabi's face when he saw you. "right," you whispered.

"then sit down and let me work some magic!"

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

two hours later, you stood at the entrance to the common room, your hands shaking. the dress fit perfectly, and toga had worked wonders with your hair and makeup. you felt beautiful, but more than that, you felt nervous.

"ready?" toga whispered, and you nodded.

the "processional" was twice humming the wedding march, slightly off-key but with genuine enthusiasm. as you walked down the makeshift aisle, you saw that somehow, word had spread. spinner sat in one of the chairs, looking uncomfortable but present. compress was there too, having abandoned his usual theatrical mask for a more formal look. even shigaraki had shown up, though he sat in the back corner, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

but none of that mattered when you saw dabi waiting at the front of the room.

he'd cleaned up – his usual coat replaced with a black button-down shirt, his hair slicked back. but it was the look in his eyes that made your breath catch. there was wonder there, and something soft and unguarded that was meant only for you.

"you look..." he started when you reached him, then seemed to run out of words.

"beautiful," you finished softly, looking him up and down. "you look beautiful too."

toga had appointed herself officiant, and she cleared her throat dramatically. "dearly beloved villains, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two people who are perfect for each other!"

what followed was hardly a traditional ceremony. toga had clearly made up most of it as she went along, mixing wedding traditions with her own enthusiastic commentary. but when it came time for vows, she stepped back and let you speak from the heart.

"i don't have anything written," you said, your voice shaking as you took dabi's hands. "but i know that i love you. not just the parts of you that are easy to love, but all of you. the anger, the scars, the way you protect people by pushing them away. i love how you see through people's masks, how you never let me hide from myself. i love your terrible jokes and the way you hog the blankets and how you always make sure i eat dinner even when you pretend not to care."

dabi's thumb traced over your knuckles. "doll, i'm not good with words like you are. but i know that before you, i was just... existing. going through the motions, waiting for everything to burn down. you made me want to build something instead of just destroying it. you made me want to be better, not because you asked me to, but because you saw something in me worth saving." his voice cracked slightly. "i promise to love you, to protect you, to be worthy of the faith you have in me."

there wasn't a dry eye in the room – even shigaraki was suspiciously focused on the wall.

"do you, dabi, take this woman to be your wife, in sickness and health, in heists and hideouts, till death do you part?" toga asked solemnly.

"i do," he said, his voice steady.

"and do you, [name], take this man to be your husband, through burns and battles, in chaos and calm, till death do you part?"

"i do," you whispered.

"then by the power vested in me by... uh... being really good at feelings, i now pronounce you husband and wife! you may kiss the bride!"

dabi cupped your face gently, mindful of his scars, and kissed you softly. it tasted like promises and forever, and when you broke apart, the small crowd erupted in cheers.

"ladies and gentlemen," toga announced dramatically, "i present to you mr. and mrs. todoroki!"

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

the reception was chaotic and perfect. toga's lopsided cake was delicious despite its appearance, and someone had managed to procure actual champagne. twice gave a toast that alternated between heartfelt congratulations and warnings about the dangers of marriage. compress performed magic tricks that were genuinely impressive, and even spinner offered a shy congratulations.

but the best part was the way everyone immediately started calling you mrs. todoroki. it was like a switch had been flipped – suddenly, you were no longer just [name] who happened to be dating dabi. you were mrs. todoroki, dabi's wife, part of something bigger than yourself.

"mrs. todoroki," dabi murmured against your ear as you swayed together to music playing from someone's phone. "i like the sound of that."

"me too," you said, your cheek pressed against his chest. "though i'm still processing that toga managed to plan an entire wedding in three days."

"she's terrifying when she sets her mind to something," he agreed. "but i'm glad she did. this is... perfect. better than any fancy ceremony."

you pulled back to look at him. "really?"

"really. everyone who matters is here, you look incredible, and at the end of the day, you're my wife. what more could i want?"

from across the room, toga called out, "mr. todoroki! come cut the cake with your wife!"

dabi groaned good-naturedly but took your hand. "come on, mrs. todoroki. let's go cut our ridiculous cake."

as you walked over together, hand in hand, you couldn't help but smile. it wasn't the wedding you'd dreamed of as a little girl, but it was perfect for who you were now. surrounded by your strange little family of villains, married to the man you loved more than anything, you felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

"hey," dabi said softly, squeezing your hand. "i love you, wife."

"i love you too, husband," you replied, and meant it with every fiber of your being.

the cake cutting was a disaster – toga had gotten overexcited and bumped into twice, who had knocked into the table, sending cake everywhere. but as you and dabi stood there, covered in frosting and laughing, you knew that this was exactly how your story was supposed to begin.

after all, you were villains. you'd never done anything the traditional way, so why start now?

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

later that night, as you lay curled up against dabi's chest in your shared bed, he traced lazy patterns on your back.

"thank you," he said quietly.

"for what?"

"for saying yes. for not caring that we can't make it legal. for being happy with this crazy excuse for a wedding."

you propped yourself up to look at him. "touya, i would have married you in a parking lot if that was our only option. the wedding was beautiful because it was us. our family, our way."

he smiled – not his usual smirk, but something soft and genuine. "mrs. todoroki."

"mr. todoroki."

"think toga will let us live this down?"

you laughed. "are you kidding? she's probably already planning our first anniversary party."

"god help us," he muttered, but he was smiling.

as you drifted off to sleep, you could hear toga in the hallway, excitedly telling someone about the wedding. you caught fragments of her conversation – something about how romantic it was, how she was definitely going to plan spinner's wedding next, how she was already thinking about baby showers.

dabi's chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "she's already planning our whole lives, isn't she?"

"probably," you agreed sleepily. "but you know what? i don't mind. i love our weird little family."

"yeah," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "me too."

and as you fell asleep as mrs. todoroki for the first time, you couldn't imagine being happier anywhere else in the world.

⌗ taglist: @idexmids @siriuslyginnychase @eleteo125 @st4r-dustx @corpsebridenightamare @boreaswrites [OPEN]

✦ REQUESTS ARE OPEN! ✦

420 notes · View notes

fireworksacrosshorizons · 28 days ago

Text

"Omg endeavor gets so much unnecessary hate the villians are way worse!'

The villians get less hate because they are all very plainly writren as products of broken systems that ultimately failed them.

Endeavor gets more hate because he is part of the system, He perpetuates it. It protects him even when he does harm.

Thats why.

It's really not that hard to grasp.

312 notes · View notes

fireworksacrosshorizons · 1 month ago

Text

思考停止

83 notes · View notes

fireworksacrosshorizons · 1 month ago

Text

dabi fucking you after an intense first fight would include…

yelling. doors slammed. harsh words neither of you meant. but they cut. his voice is sharp and cold, yours cracked and shaking. “you think i give a shit?” - “maybe i should stop trying then!”

silence. thick, hot, painful silence afterward. both of you on opposite sides of the room, panting, hearts pounding, staring anywhere but each other.

and then he moves fast and aggressive, like something inside him finally snapped. one second he’s glaring. the next, he’s grabbing you, pulling you in, and pinning you to the wall, and kissing you like he’s starving.

the kiss is violent with emotion. teeth. tongue. desperation. you try to speak, but he growls, “don’t. just… don’t. i can’t fucking lose you right now.”

clothes ripped, shoved aside, hands everywhere. he doesn’t even bother with the bed. instead your back hits the nearest surface and his hips are grinding into yours like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin.

his voice shaking. not from anger, but from fear, and how close he came to ruining it all. “you drive me fucking insane. you make me feel too much. i hate it. i fucking hate how much i need you.”

he’s sliding into you rough and raw, no warning, just a needy groan and the sound of your moan echoing off the walls. “say something. scream at me. tell me you hate me—i don’t care. just don’t shut me out.”

his thrusts are fast and deep, punishing almost, but underneath it all is this painful tenderness he doesn’t know how to show. every grip, every pant, every broken whisper, “mine. you’re fucking mine.”

you holding onto him like you’re falling, nails dragging down his back. you both say it with your bodies before your words: ‘i’m sorry. i still love you. don’t go.’

he kisses you hard mid-thrust, groaning into your mouth, and for a moment it feels like he’s breathing for the first time since the fight. “don’t ever do that again. don’t fucking leave me hanging like that.”

finishing inside you like he’s emptying every ounce of rage, regret, and love into you.

his forehead pressed to yours, his voice is wrecked, “fuck—i’m still shaking. you ruin me.”

the silence afterward isn’t tense. it’s heavy with emotion. he stays inside you, holding your face, thumb brushing your cheek where tears still sit. “that was our first fight… huh.” - “yeah.” - “we’re still here, though.”

and when you finally lie in bed—naked, tangled, breathless—he pulls you in tighter than ever. his voice turns soft, broken and so fucking real. “next time i fuck up… just remind me you’re still mine. like this. with your legs around me.”

1K notes · View notes

fireworksacrosshorizons · 1 month ago

Text

— HAWKS + DABI + BAKUGO + SHIGARAKI || THINGS THIS LOVESICK BOYS SAY WHEN IN BED WITH YOU

-----------HEADCANONS-----------

HAWKS

“Oh, my darling...fuck, keep doing that.”

“You're so beautiful, I'm so glad we found each other.”

“I know I’m a mess-… what else was I supposed to do while waiting to make you mine?”

“Lay back and let me do all the work. I’ve dreamed of eating your pretty pussy all week.”

“Hey, don’t shy away from me. C’mere-”

“You’re so fuckin’ soft. Shiiit…”

“Hey—no teasing the feathers.”

“I n-need to-... I just-…-I’m going to start moving now.”

“Arms around my neck and legs around my hips— ngh! Gravity is a bitch, I don’t want you falling on me, at least, not literally.”

“What a good mate, you respond to me so well."

“I’m so fuckin’ deep, my pretty girl-”

“Fuck—I can’t... I’m not gonna last-”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I love when you squirt on my face.”

“God I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m going to breed your pussy every day, all day long, even after I’ve knocked you up.”

“We're both getting older, babe, and if we want to have more chicks than stars in the sky, then we need to get started.”

“Tell me you love me-… tell me again.”

“I do get ahead of myself often, but I can’t help it. I just know we belong together-”

“What do you say we try for a baby this time?”

"You’d be adorable, so swollen and full that you can't walk, that you'd have to rely on me for everything...”

“Touch yourself, c’mon. Let me see how you play the right notes.”

“You're going to be a wonderful mother for my chicks.”

“Let me help you move pretty, put your hands on mine.”

“No one’s gonna hear if I put my hand here… no biting, hun.”

“I’ll make it quick, darling... just—let me… let me go again.”

“Need a hand or a finger?”

“Just wait, baby... Fuuuuck—give me a damn minute.”

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Arch your back, there you go, such a good girl.”

“Fuck, even after cumming you aren’t ready to accommodate my size. Don’t worry, baby,” he kisses your creased forehead, “—then just the tip this time.”

“Shit, I can’t help it—” you can feel him twitching excitedly inside you. “I just like you so damn much!” He grunts and snaps his hips again, diving deeper.

“Just bear with me, I swear I’ll eat you for hours after…. Please, pretty, pleaseeeee…” He kept his pace, practically purring with his throaty groans.

“No matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, I know how to fuck you well, ain’t I, beautiful?”

“C’mon let me hear you, I can feel you getting tighter… my cock’s rubbing those hard-to-reach places…. Fuck! I- slid in so easily.”

“I’m painfully close-…. Fuck, I don’t want to cum yet…”

“Is this your sweet spot I’m bullying?”

“Each thrust is inching you closer… should I slow down or go faster?”

“Deeper? Okey-… just try to keep it together, I have neighbors.”

“Give me one more. please, just one more baby.”

“Try to keep your eyes open, I know it’s hard…b-but try for me beautiful.”

“Go ahead and sleep, honey, I’m not going anywhere.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

DABI

“What’d I did to deserve such a pretty thing like ya?”

“I’ve barely touch you. You really that hot for me, sweetheart?”

“Open your legs, not gonna say it again.”

“Doesn’t hurt, its already scarred skin.”

“If I have to kiss your tears away again, you are gonna get it— I’ve already told ya, it doesn’t hurt anymore-”

“Bury your hands in my hair, yes... Just like that.”

“Stop pushing me away. You’re gonna take it all, don’t make me shove it down your throat.”

“You love to play the feeble act, but your moans give you away, princess.”

“Nuh-uh, you haven’t cum yet.”

“I said ass up.”

“You want it so bad? beg.”

“Take them off before I rip them off of you, doll. Don’t try me.”

“Harder,” he mutters, not a minute after you started. “Harder,” he demands again.

“Could you go any slower? Ride me like you mean it, princess. I know you can.”

“Can barely feel that shit. You gotta do better than that, princess. You know I like it rough.”

“Fuck,” he bit out. “Yes, fuck…. Just like that.”

“Come on pretty girl. Ride me till you’re numb, yeah? Want you to fuck yourself stupid on my cock today.”

“Move my hands again and see what happens-”

“Fuck—”

“Sorry, baby-… I just had to jump at the opportunity to sink my cock deeper.”

“Sit on it.”

“Worried it won’t fit? We always make it work just fine—”

“I don’t have condoms, they’re annoying.” He grunts the reply, inwardly absorbed with impatience.

“Don’t move—Just gimme a minute… F-Fuck…”

“You fuckin’ genius, dammit, I love you so damn much! Not even I knew that spot— …” He shakes his head, in disbelief of the pleasure, even more so that you been the one to give it to him.

“Did you do that on purpose, princess? ‘cause now we are doing it every time.”

“Fuck that. Don’t know if you heard sweetheart, but you were made for me to fuck and breed.”

“Stop it, no more whining—I’ll do my best to be…. gentler.”

“Really? resist me all you want. I know you love being treated like this.”

“Ridiculous, I could stare at your pretty cunt all day long.”

“Fuck Yeah! I adore the way your thighs tremble like jelly after you cum.”

“Should I pull out? Nah, better give me a daughter to spoil.”

“Unless you were playing with yourself before I got here, I’m guessing this is because of my pretty face?”

“Over my knee, now.”

“Sure, I love ya— but you are not in charge here, princess. Fuckin’ spread them for me.”

“Want me to spank that pussy? lay on my lap then-”

“One’s never enough, I know my princess’s pussy and its begging for another.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

BAKUGO (NSFW art teaser here!)

“Do you want me to fuck you harder, cutie?”

“You can be loud, I love to hear you, (Y/N).”

“I’ve waited so long for this...”

“That’s it... slow and easy—”

“How much longer you gonna make me wait, baby?”

“You ever take it raw? Get a big load of cum in your pussy? —don’t shy on me, I know you love when I talk dirty to you.”

“Take it off before I tear it off.”

“Baby... please...I hate to beg-”

“Make me wait much longer and I’ll have to fuck you in an alley somewhere.”

“What a naughty little girl I have just to myself.”

“Ugh, so hot and wet.”

“I said I wanted to eat your pussy, didn’t I? Just sit back and enjoy it, baby girl.”

“I’d hate to stop teasing you right before the fun part.”

“It’s so warm...”

“Who do you belong to?”

“Whose pussy is this? Say who you belong to.”

“God, what a good fucking cunt. It keeps clenching on my cock like it’s hungry for more milk. You want that? You want me to fill you up?”

“As you wish, princess.”

“You gonna cum?”

“Go on, gorgeous. Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

“Fucking take it... take every drop...”

“Nice and stuffed... all mine... my little slutty girl...”

“I said spread those fuckin’ folds.”

“So wet and tight, but my cock just slides right in. It’s like you were born to take me inside of your cunt.”

“Aren’t you a sight. All blissed out when we aren’t even done.”

“That’s right, darlin’. You didn’t think you could tease me for so long and get away with just one little fuck, did you?”

“Oh, did you think we were finished?”

“Did I stutter or somethin’?”

“Alright, baby girl, you asked for it. Just don’t come crying to me if you can’t move after I’m done with you.”

“Don’t move—Just a sec… F-Fuck…”

“No, this is-this is fine. This is beyond fine. Keep doing it, please.”

“Shit, darling, don’t-”

“God, you make me so needy. Please.... fuck, please...”

“You feel so wonderful, I might go crazy—"

“More... please, more...”

“Fuck, I’m stretching you so good.”

“God, the thought of you ever doing something like this to anyone else... I can’t stand it.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re my precious BABY, now and forever."

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

SHIGARAKI

“It isn’t even a ‘might’. I can tell you right now with the utmost certainty that you are MINE.”

“Keep looking into my eyes, don’t you fuckin’ look away…”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” He coos in a demeaning tone. “I’ll be your first and your last. Not any of these other NPCs.”

“I can hardly keep my hands to myself, your room or mine.”

“I can do whatever I want to you, I’m player one!”

“I know, I’m keeping track of my digits, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“You are too precious to me to turn to dust, my love.”

“I can’t- I’m dying to breed you, to bury my cock in your wet pussy. Don’t move, I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

“My pants are uncomfortably tight, the fabric’s straining against my throbbing dick, I told you not to put on that dress, dammit” Shigaraki’s practically scratching at the wooden table, surges of arousal shaking him to his core. “Can we go now? Like right NOW?!”

“MY girl, so pretty and needy for my cock.”

“You want him dead. You got it.” Ruby eyes stare through his bangs up at your face in some sort of silent promise. “—Of course, I will. You are my everything.”

“It hurts. I need you to- FUCK, just like that.”

“Fuck, how-how are you this fucking wet and warm inside, fuck, fuck…!”

“Please fuck me.”

“H-hey, I know a fun game we can play together… It’s called ‘how many times can I make you cum all over my cock?’”

“One point, five points, ten points—Cumming again? Are you shooting for a new high-score, sweetheart?”

“Now... care if I use my mouth on you?”

“Just be good for me, and I’ll take very, very good care of you.”

"Look at you, so worked up over a few couple of fingers, did you miss me that much, sweetheart?"

“Just looking at you is enough to, oh fuck, drive me wild.”

"So desperate for my cock to stuff you-say it, say you want my cock—ngh!”

"S-Shit,"

"Needy girl, I'll let you have it, be fucking grateful."

"What? Fainting on me already?"

"Don't let me see you doing this again, or else."

“Just fuck me. I need you, (Y/N), please. Please just fuck bury on me already...! I want it...! I want YOU..!”

“Have it your way then.”

"Keep licking my balls, oh fuck! I’m gonna die—"

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-!"

“You look so pretty choking on my cock.”

“Where do you want it, baby? Mouth, breast, face, pussy… take your pick-”

"Are you close, sweetie?"

“My feisty little girl. Aren’t you just adorable?”

"Good girl. Give me a minute and I’ll clean up that mess you made."

“Cum for me. Cum on my cock and show me that you’re mine.”

“I just... wanted to cuddle a little more, is all. Didn’t want to... you know, waste the moment.”

“Don’t you worry, my love. I’ll be sure to give you anything you could ever want and more.”

“You don’t have to take me all the way into your esophagus, but I expect you to make me cum, and yes, I do want you to swallow.”

“Go on, get on your knees.”

“Ngh, that’s it, keep going...”

“You look so wonderful like this, with your lips wrapped around my cock. I wish I could take a pic for Dabi to swallow his words.”

“I want you all to myself.”

“H-here it comes...Be sure... to drink... every.. last... drop...YOU ARE FUCKIN’ MINE!!”

I MADE SOME SICK NSFW ART FOR THIS HEADCANONS, YOU CAN CHECK THEM OUT IN MY PATREON. (Along with more MHA nsfw artwork)

9K notes · View notes