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mystic-kitten-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Eden [M] ︳Prologue

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Genre: Smut with plot; romance, angst and some fluff to unfold.

Rating: NSFW-ish

Warning: Mild dirty talking, mild dry humping, mild degradation, and inappropriate touching.

Words: 5300+

Notes: Happy valentine’s everyone~! I hope you had a fantastic day/evening, and here is a lil’ present for you all. It’s the prologue of ‘Eden’, and hopefully you guys get a taste of this new, upcoming, series.

Please note, updates are going to be slow. At the moment, ‘Limerence’ is my main series (Greek Mythology is my side project). But once Limerence is done, Eden will be my main focus! Tags aren’t working (why am I not surprised) - but hopefully that fixes itself soon and appears in people’s feed.

Thank you for reading, and please don’t be shy to leave a like or comment, take care~!

Masterlist ︳01

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

It seems he managed to wander into a garden, and he was starving for a taste of that forbidden fruit. And now that he got a taste, he was not going to let go. His fingertips were engraved with sin, burning her skin with every touch, chin dripping of her sweet juices. “Fuck.” He grunted under his breath because he knew – this was more than just a quick taste.

Savory

(flower); spice, interested.

“Ah, you’re a lifesaver!” Izuku Midoriya declared, face flushed as his head bounced up and down. His dark green hair flew everywhere, a pretty contrast from his pink freckled cheeks. He was the living definition of ‘rookie’ – filled with an unreasonable amount of energy and enthusiasm. You’re surprised you didn’t see his face plastered beside the word in every dictionary around the world.

But it was that same energy, desire to be a hero, that had your lips curving upwards, a kittenish smile painting your rose-coloured lips. How could you not shoot him one of your infamous smiles, brushing back your hair as you mused. He’s a ball of motivation and joy – a real hero in the works.

“If Recovery Girl finds out I healed you despite her orders, she’ll have my head,” you advised with a click of your tongue, truth lingering in your statement. After showing up to work slightly hungover – courtesy of Midnight’s refusal to accept ‘no’ for an answer for bar-hopping – the last thing you wanted was to be caught healing Midoriya.

As if he could read your mind, the green-haired boy moaned under his breath.

You wiped the last bit of ointment onto his skin, wrapping his wounds, spotting the way his shoulders slumped for a moment – remorse painting his face. But just like that, he puffed out his chest, a sudden resolve overcoming him.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t let All Might down – I need to push myself-”

“Keep pushing yourself, and you won’t have any of ‘yourself’ left to be a hero.” You interjected, causing Midoriya’s mouth to shut close, taking in the weight of your words. He stared at you with those large eyes of his, watching your fingers ease their way off his bruised limbs, the bandages new and tightly wrapped.

“Recovery Girl is going to whip All Might’s ass if she finds out you were hurt - again.” You spoke honestly, causing the pink tint of his cheeks to turn into a darker hue. His freckles almost blended in with the flush, nodding his head furiously at your in-direct warning.

It was at times hard to believe that this naïve, well-natured boy was Katsuki Bakugo`s supposed ‘rival.’ It was like comparing apples and oranges – this year’s students were something else. Your hands fell over your lap, leaning into Midoriya, you gaze meeting his.

One for all…

“Come on, let’s get going before we get caught. I’ll wrap up a few herbs for your mom to smash up. Make sure you rub it into your skin after your bath. It should numb the pain and stop the bruising and swelling.” You spoke, shooting him another cheeky smile, a weak attempt to wipe that look off his face.

With a tired sigh, you pushed yourself off your seat, the sound of your black heels clicking against the white tiles of your office, filling the quietness. It was as you strolled around, eyes scanning the dozens of tiny planters that hung along the walls, you realized how late it has gotten.

The sun was setting; the campus eerily quiet as most of the students were already home. Shit – and you still have to make dinner. Your index finger fell over your pouting lips; eyes eagerly searching for that one particular pot-

“Ah- there it is.” You hummed pleasantly, reaching forward. The tan planter fell over your desk with a soft thud, your fingers dancing over the dirt until you felt it.

The roots were starting to stretch, the shoot wiggling its way from the soil, pushing and shoving the dirt painfully slow before breaking the surface. “Come on, baby.” You muttered softly, focusing on the energy of the plant. And you swore, because you could feel the annoyance of the plant, undoubtedly grumbling a faint ‘fuck you, you forgot to water me last night,’ before spouting into a perfectly formed leaf.

“Hero alias; Eden. Real name; Y/N. Quirk; Bioterra – can take any seed or spore and manipulate them in movement or growth…” Midoriya muffled under his breath. You let out an airy laugh hearing Midoryia mumbling to himself, clipping the newly formed seed leaves carefully, before thanking the plant.

You prefer not to piss off the seedling. Afterall – this little babe has saved your ass far too many times to count.

Looking over your shoulder to Midoriya, you tossed the last of the herbs into a cute little baggy. “If you keep mumbling under your breath like that, you’ll end up just scaring all the villains away.” you teased, and Midoriya scratched his head.

“I never saw your quirk before – it’s really pretty!” He gushed, and it was then you realized that the boy was no longer patiently sitting on the examination table, but eagerly hovering over your study with a pen and book in hand. Where and when did he even-

“Word of caution, Midoriya, while I may be the sidekick of Recovery Girl – don’t think for a second that all I can do is heal. I can grow some pretty toxic things. Get too close, and you might cease to exist.” You warned wickedly, wiggling your brows at him. But rather than deterring the curious boy, it seemed to have done the opposite.

His mouth widened, lips racing, “If that’s the case, does that mean you’re immune to all poisons or toxins created by plants? Does that mean no plants can cause an effect on you, whether its good or bad? Does that mean you can’t heal yourself with your medicine-”

“Midoriya. Just because you’re my favourite doesn’t mean I won’t force-feed you some valerian root for some quiet.” Midoriya’s face stoned at your threat, instantly bowing up and down. “S-sorry-” Midoriya began to stutter before a sultry singing cut him off.

“You sure you aren’t a sadist, a villain?”

Both of you shifted your attention to the entrance, eager to find the owner of that vibrating tone.

“Good evening, Midnight.” You spoke, smiling radiantly to your best friend, as your arms fell over the shy Midoriya. His green eyes widened, studying the pro-hero up and down in interest – no doubt he was thinking about the rated 18+ hero’s quirk. And given a chance, he would ask her thousands of questions like he has done to you since the start of the school year.

The stunning deep hue of purple against her red mask brought out the teasing glimmer in her eyes. Midnight cocked her head to the side, arms crossing over her chest, emphasizing her ample bust as she stepped into the room.

“You’re not doing some unauthorized healing, are you?” Midnight pestered, cocking an eyebrow as she eyed the fresh bandages decorating Midoriya’s fingers. In a flash, your hands squeezed Midoriya’s shoulders, shaking your head with a falsely sweet smile on your lips.

“Of course, not – I’m just showing Midoriya here, my quirk! It’s getting late; we can talk more tomorrow.” Your grip loosened, shoving the boy forward. While Midoriya was undoubtedly naïve, he wasn’t dumb. He quickly got the hint, stepping forward before waving at the both of you, “Thank you for demonstrating your quirk, see you tomorrow!”

He dashed away from the voluptuous dominatrix, the sound of his heavy feet running down the empty hallways of UA slowly fading the further he ran. The moment he was out of earshot, Midnight twirled her whip, purring.

“Lying to a teacher, how naughty of you.” Midnight snickered, tapping her chin as she inched her way forward. Her skin-tight costume only seemed to accentuate her sex appeal, and you rolled your eyes.

“What are you going to do, spank me?” you challenged with your tongue sticking out. Your hands made haste with sweeping up the dirt that littered your counter, giving your seedling a lil’ treat for working so hard today.

Midnight laughed obnoxiously loud, “You’ll enjoy that too much, you kinky bitch.”

“And that, I won’t deny.” You giggled back, already knowing Midnight was snooping around your office, sniffing all the flowers that were blooming. She, in particular, loved the darker hued flowers, saying it matched her aesthetic.

Placing the planter back into its spot, you turned on your heel, reaching for your purse that you left on the floor. “What are you doing here so late, anywho?” You pondered, swinging the strap over your shoulder, checking for your house keys and wallet.

Midnight sighed dramatically, taking another whiff of the roses, “Meetings. I could use a drink, girl.”

“Well, count me out, I’m starving, and it’s late.” You stated, shutting the window of your office, and locking it. It was officially dark outside, the streetlights looking like twinkling stars. Time moves faster when you’re having fun.

“Oh, come on! You’re young and sexy, go out. Get drunk – better yet, find yourself a hot daddy.” Midnight argued, waltzing over to your side in a flash, tone rising with passion. “Just because you work for UA doesn’t mean you can’t live a little. You’re starting to turn into your grandmother – work, work, work.”

You pouted, “Please don’t compare me to my grandmother.”

Don’t get it wrong; you loved and respected your grandmother – Recovery Girl.

She was the first hero of the family, the family pride. Hell – she was the reason why you even wanted to become a hero. She used to take you to her workplace when you a mere toddler, showing you off to all her co-workers, bragging how you’re going to be the next big thing. She was the definition of a proud grandmother.

That’s why you worked your ass off, becoming the second hero in the family – and next-in-line to become UA’s healer once the old lady decides to retire.

“Come on, one drink? Maybe I can hook you up with some of my friends. They know how to treat a woman. Want a submissive, a dom, ou- maybe a switch?” Midnight insisted and at that point, you huffed loudly. You saw the stars in her eyes the more she talked about the possibility of hooking you up with one of her friends. This woman-

Linking arms with the sex addict of a friend you had, you shut your office door behind the both of you, walking through the deserted hallways. The hallways of UA was dead, all the classroom doors locked, blinds lowered so only the poorly functioning lights of the school could guide you out of this prison.

“Don’t ignore me! I have yet to see you with someone. What do you want? What are you looking for, girl?” Midnight groused under her breath.

What do you want…?

Your mouth opened, a sly smirk on your face. “You know what I want? I want a fuck buddy, no feelings. Just good, hot, rough sex.”

“And I know a friend who can do just that!” Midnight blurted, but you merely shook your head.

“I already have someone.”

Midnight’s eyes widen, stopping abruptly in the dimly light hallway. “You have someone? Excuse me, who is this person and since when? You haven’t gotten laid in god knows how long, and it shows.”

You grinned mischievously, leaning into her. Midnight was on her tippy-toes, eyes and ears eagerly waiting for the spicy gossip. Her hands clasped together, leather whip firmly caught in between her tight grasp. If only she knew.

“They’re the best. Their name is ‘dildo,’ and they’re always ready to get down whenever I need them.” You whispered.

The moment Midnight realized what you were saying, the look of utter annoyance was clear as day.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, Eden.” Midnight fumed, throwing her arms up in defeat as she stormed forward. You laughed from behind her, watching the way she cursed under her breath, her whip swinging back and forth. To be fair, you’re surprised she didn’t use it on you.

“You love me, Midnight!” You screamed from behind her, and she merely shot you a glare over her shoulder, lips pressed together, trying to hold back a grin. “If you were my toy, I would’ve beaten your ass till it’s purple and blue.”

You shoot her a kiss, playfully slapping your own ass as she raged. “I can’t wait till you find someone. And I hope they put you in your damn place. Fuck you till you can’t walk.”

“That’s the goal!” You chirped, earning another hiss from the queen of lust, herself.

The cold breeze that funnelled its way through the mutedly lit alleyway in which you walked was borderline painful. Your dress suddenly seemed far too short for the summer weather, your arms wrapping around yourself as you grumbled. The temperature seemed to drop in a matter of minutes – the twenty-minute walk from the school to home seemed like a journey.

It was unreasonably dark, and the brisk air added an uncomfortable feeling in your gut. Not even the flicking neon signs that littered the city seemed to lift the mood – the atmosphere dark and grungy. The faster you get home, the better.

Your fingers dug into your purse strap, tugging it closer to your body as your UA lanyard bounced off your chest. The bobbing of your identification card matched your heartbeat at this point, your stomach screaming to get some food inside of it.

Pace hast, you turned the corner abruptly -“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Four men, of medium build, laughing obnoxiously loud and recking of alcohol crowded the already narrow alleyway. Their words were heavily slurred, arms wrapped around each other as they struggled to walk forward. Their clothing was old and dirty, and your nose scrunched up – god even the smell of shitty alcohol smelt better than whatever odour they were emitting.

Your footsteps eased, cautiously walking behind them.

They were moving forward, slowly, but they were moving. The smart thing to do would be to walk back and take a long way home - but that means it’ll take longer for you to cook dinner, take a hot bath, and have a steamy session with your lovely date called ‘dildo.’

You have the patience for neither.

With a frustrated huff, you brushed your hair back, letting your gaze fall back onto the ground. Come on, it was a Monday night, and you just wanted to get home. Was that too much to ask?

Trying to lessen the sound of your heels against the broken concrete, your steps were sluggish. If someone were to be watching behind you, they would’ve thought you didn’t know how to walk in heels. So fucking stupid, these dumb, drunk, idiots-

“Heeeey maaaan, come over hereeee. We just wanna taaaalk.” A man shouted, and you felt your blood freeze. Your head snapped upwards, hearing the men starting to speak brasher, the slurring of their speech clear.

Was he talking to you?

No, they couldn’t be.

Their backs were still facing you, staggering back and forth as the men seemed to puff in demeanour. Your eyes narrowed, observing one of the men walking hastily, his hands reaching for his back pocket. If he wasn’t talking to you, then that can only mean – he was trying to catch up to someone.

“Don’t ignore meee, you skinny shit. Come hereee before I add more scaars.”

Not caring anymore if you made noise, your pace quicken, swaying side to side to catch a glimpse of who this man could be chasing. They can’t honestly be planning on mugging someone; they can barely walk, let alone mug someone. A tired sigh escaped your lips – time to play the hero.

Your fingers trailed into your purse, grabbing rose seeds, feeling the vines starting to rise over your fingers-

Heat.

The sound of your plants whimpering, retreating into your purse as blue flames flooded your vision had your eyes widening, a hostile shiver running up your spine.

Ashes floated into the clear night sky, the smell of burnt flesh taking over the stench of alcohol as you instinctively pressed your body against the brick walls, seeking any form of coolness. You could feel the hot air rush past your ears, hair flipping for a split moment. Sweat beaded down your forehead – these flames…

They were explosive.

Uncontrolled.

Pure rage.

But most importantly - absolutely stunning.

Your long nails dug into the brick wall, shamelessly staring at the light show in front of you rather than saving the other three men. The diverse hues of blue, clashing and mixing like a wild dance. Did that dirty, drunk man unleash this power, such a beauty?

You quickly realized how wrong you were.

The ash that was floating in the sky, the smell of rotting flesh – that was him.

“You’re fucking nuts, man! You killed him – you burnt him alive!” The men screamed, their speech no longer slurred, bringing you back to the reality of the situation. And as the realization of the sight in front of you unfolded, you found yourself swallowing.

The low-slung chuckle that caught your attention, a snicker that carried in the cold breeze, had your skin rising and lips parting.

“Well, aren’t you an observant one. It seems I did…wanna be next?” a man spoke, voice raspy, contemptuous in tone.

You pressed yourself off the brick wall, desperate to seek the man who caused the flips in your stomach. His voice alone was eargasmic, and when you stumbled back, heels clicking loudly, you realized you not only caught the attention of the three drunk men but the man with blue flames, as well.

The azure embers that lingered in the cold air reflected the streetlights, highlighting a tall, lean man at the end of the shady alleyway. The way his thin lips curved upwards, a sinister smirk emerging as he licked his lips in delight.

His light skin contrasted against the seared scars that littered his face and neck, staples piercing his flesh in a sadistic fashion. But yet, in some messed up way – the look suited him. The darkness of night adding an air of mystic and dangerous enchantment around him.

“Well…hello there, doll.” He mused, tilting his head to the side, black hair falling over his eyes. You could feel it, the way his gaze trailed up and down your body, a wild look flashing – appreciating what his eyes were settling upon. You swallowed, a needy flush overcoming your skin, because fuck.

He was sexy – the type of man, your parents, warned you about. The type of guy, your friends, told you not to associate with because all he was going to do was fuck and dip. You couldn’t strip your gaze away from the man, and he seemed to notice. He let out a small snicker, raising a brow as you gawked shamelessly.

“Y-you’re a hero from UA! Save us, stop him, arrest him. He killed our friend-” The three men shouted, running towards you with desperation in their eyes. It was their loud and unwanted voices that snapped you out of it.

What were you doing?

Here you are, blatantly checking out some stranger – a stranger with an overpowered quirk who just murdered a man. But the enigmatic stranger continued to stare with a look of amusement, even daring to take a step closer.

“A hero? Oh, this is becoming a lot more work than I wanted.” he snuffled under his breath, eyes half-lidded. The men ignored the man’s commentary, staring at you with annoyance.

“Do something, you useless women! We don’t pay our taxes for you to look pretty.” One of them shouted, their spit striking your face. Oh - hell no.

“As if you guys even pay your fucking taxes. Maybe if you didn’t get piss drunk and try to mug the man, your friend would be alive.” You shouted heatedly, stepping forward and shoving the man back. He was getting far too close for comfort – he needs to learn something about personal space.

The man’s eyes widen, stumbling back a few steps before narrowing his gaze. “This damn psycho killed someone!”

“He was defending himself against you morons.” You fumed, hands balling into fists. You may be a hero, but you weren’t forgiving. That was the problem nowadays; people could not take responsibility for their damn actions. Starting fights, getting their asses kicked, and then crying wolf. And of course, you had all these ‘heroes,’ eagerly picking up the pieces of their messes to fuel their damn ego.

“If you’re smart, you’ll leave before I report this whole incident. And I can guarantee it’ll be you three going to jail.”

“You can’t report shit if you’re dead.” The man sneered before raising his hand. There in his grasp was a small dagger, the moonlight bouncing off the thin blade. So enraged by this man’s ignorance, you failed to notice the way his hand lingered into his jacket pocket.

You could feel the blood drain from your face, impulsively cowering away from the blade. He caught you out, and you were surely going to pay now, shit-

That was when you spotted it, the dash of black, a pretty hand reaching for the idiotic drunk. The manic smile that painted the blue flamed stranger’s face, a lust-filled look as his hand outstretched over the man.

His long boney fingers wrapped around the side of his head, clawing into the skin of his face. You saw the terror etched into the drunken man – eyes shifting to look at your unexpected hero — the last thing he would ever see.

“Burn.” The stranger whistled, and that was when you felt the overwhelming heat once again.

An explosion of blue fumes flared before you, and the man who held the knife didn’t get a chance even to scream – incinerated in seconds. There wasn’t an ounce of control or restraint in this man’s flames, just pure and utter chaos. Smoke fluttered from the man’s skin, eyes crazed as he grinned, the flames ceased in intensity.

Ashes and embers erupted into the air, the sound of the blade hitting the ground echoing between the brick walls. The stranger let his hand drop to his side, before tilting his head to your direction. That was when you spotted it — one of the untouched men was reaching for the burnt knife that laid on the ground.

“Oh no, you don’t-” You hissed, the tipsy man staring up at you in surprise. But his resolve was set in stone, eager to get revenge for his now two dead buddies. The hot blade twisted in his hand, holding it tight as he swung down.

He wasn’t aiming for you at all – he was trying to injury your anti-hero.

You lunged forward, chest clashing with your newly developed crush, arms reaching around his neck. The inebriated man swung, and right before the blade could come in contact with your dark hero, your hands tightly gripped the man’s wrist, nails digging into his skin.

“Let. Go.” You threatened, teeth clenching as you tried to hold him back.

“Dude, the fuck are you doing? They’re heroes – they’ll kill us with their damn quirks. Run.” The only reasonable man of the two shouted, and that was all it took. The weapon slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor, and your grasp loosened.

He whipped his hands from your touch, spitting on the ground where you stood as he ran down the alleyway with his only remaining friend. “Let’s get out of here.” They slurred, the sound of their shoes drumming against the concrete – turning the corner and out of sight.

A drained gasp escaped you, arms going limp as your forehead rested against the man who saved your ass. Holy fuck – talk about a giant cluster fuck. The air around you smelt like death and fire, sparks spreading across the block, courtesy of the night breeze.

How are you going to explain this? All the paperwork and details – you really outdid yourself tonight, didn’t you?

“Hmm…he wasn’t lying; you’re a ‘hero’ from UA.” A dark voice droned into your ear. His hot breath tickled your neck, skin tingling in bliss, and your head shot upwards. That’s when you took in how utterly striking the man; you currently had your arms wrapped around, was.

His eyes were magnetic, a turquoise so damn vibrant and clear your mouth dropped.

Being as up close as you were, you could appreciate the silver piercings that decorated his nose and ears — an unpredicted attractive mix with his purple and red coloured scars. Overall, his features were soft, despite his attitude and whisky-like voice, although his jaw could probably cut diamonds with how damn sharp it was.

Damn, he was attractive, and you couldn’t help but feel your breath getting heavy the further you gawked. Midnight was right – you were sex-starved, and the way you studied this man up and down like a damn snack, was the proof.

His lips curved upwards to a smile that even the devil himself would swoon, noticing how your eyes scanned him with longing. Your fingers brushed his long black locks by accident, and you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“Do all UA heroes dress like this? Short dresses, low necklines?” The man chuckled, his fingers playing with the lanyard that was perfectly nestled between your breasts. Your cheeks flared, feeling his calloused fingers against your cleavage. His touch was far from tender, purposely letting the ID roll between his fingers, conveniently pulling your neckline further down your torso.

And the worst part was you weren’t mad at his erotic touch as much as the comment, nipples hardening at the thought of this going further.

“I beg your pardon?” You retorted, and the stranger merely laughed, licking his lips as he leaned closer to your face.

“Oh, you can beg all you want, doll.”

Fuck, this man knows what he’s doing. You snickered under your breath, untangling your arms away from his shoulders, pulling the lanyard that he played with away. “Thank you for saving my ass back there.”

He smirked, running his hands messily through his hair before stepping forward. Your bottom lip rolled between your teeth, eyes fluttering as you watched the way the man before you dominated. He was rolling his shoulders back, each step of his lazy in demeanour, eyeing you like how a predator stalks its prey.

“You come here often? Walk down these sketchy alleyways for fun.”

“I’m kind of a hero, and unfortunately, walking in creepy alleyways is in the job description.”

“Is eye-fucking people also included in that job description?”

“Nope, that’s something I do on my own time.” You grinned, earning a handsome one back. He licked his lips, hands falling into his pants pockets as he stepped closer. You didn’t even realize the little dance that was happening.

Both of you, stepping closer and father between words, walking in circles as you bantered pointlessly. The fact that this man killed two people was lost to the wind (literally) – you were a hero, sure, but you never said that you were good at it.

“Personal time…that means you’re on your way home. Good to know.”

“Plan on stalking?”

He merely shrugged his shoulders, eyes falling back to your breasts without a care in the world. “Mm…maybe. Y/N – pro hero, Eden.” He muttered under his breath. This time you didn’t bother stopping him, the way he outstretched his hand, jerking on the ID card and drawing you closer to his body.

Both of your eyes were glossed over, a heat building between your damn legs as he studied every curve in the dress you wore. It wasn’t even skimpy or short, but the way his eyes lingered – you would’ve thought you were wearing nothing but lingerie if you didn’t know better.

“Next time, wear something shorter.”

“Excuse me?” you blurted, and he merely laughed, letting go of the makeshift leash. But now that you were close, he seemed to take advantage. His hands fell over your hips, drawing you up against his body, his scared skin brushing against your jaw.

“You see, doll, boobs are great and all, but that ass you got? I much rather have my hands on that.” He growled into your ear, and you couldn’t stop your small moan. Your hands fell over his shoulders, and you couldn’t even wrap your head around the fact that his hands were running up and down your thighs, shoving you backwards.

Your back hit the wall roughly, him growling into your ear as he licked down your neck with a low grunt. “F-Fuck, what’s your name?” You blurted, and you could hear him chuckle breathlessly, listening to your gasping sighs.

“Dabi – that’s the name that you’re going to be screaming.” He grunted, his hips thrusting into yours. You could feel his arousal, hard and heavy, rubbing perfectly against your parted legs. Your head tossed back, another mewl escaping your lips as his fingers dug into your thighs, rubbing his hardening cock against your wet heat.

“Fuck, you’re nasty, a perfect lil’ slut for me, right doll?”

His words had you purring.

“Dabi-” you gasped, and the flashing lights of blue and red caught your attention. The sounds of sirens were clear in the dead of night, and they were rapidly approaching. A pout formed on your lips, eyes shutting close for a moment as you swore because the wet mess between your legs was far more concerning.

You blew frustratingly; you’ve got to be fucking kidding-

“Told you I’d have you begging.” Dabi chuckled, thrusting his dick perfectly against your sopping panties one last time, before pulling back. He licked his lips, and you couldn’t help but whine under your breath, seeing that bulge in between his legs – something you so desperately wanted your mouth over.

“See you soon, Y/N, my delicious lil’ fruit.” He teased, before stuffing his hands back into his pants and running off.

Your face was flushed, your breasts practically falling out of your dress, your thighs and ass on full display. You watched as Dabi managed to mix into the darkness as if he wasn’t even here a minute ago, dry humping you against the wall.

“Over here- that’s where people reported the noise.” A few voices bellowed, and in a flash, you pulled down your dress, running back down the same alleyway you came from. Here you were, speedily walking down the very route you should’ve taken to begin with.

If you had taken this path from the start, you would’ve been already home, dinner cooked, and probably in bed.

But you couldn’t stop the cheeky smirk on your face, your hands falling over your neck, where his lips practically ravished. You were sure there were going to be some marks, although faint, and that thought made you wetter.

It seems like Mr. Dildo found himself a new name for tonight – Dabi.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

104 notes · View notes

tumbleon · 7 years ago

Text

Another birthday, same place

What does getting older mean?

When you are young, change comes at lightning speed. Milestones are mere months apart, from learning to walk, talk, read, vote and everything in between—the nature of the sun, geography, the heartburn of love unrequited, how to drive, the right to open credit cards, rent a car, buy porn and cigarettes. In comparison, milestones in your late twenties and thirties are far fewer and farther between.

Before moving to Christchurch five years ago, I had changed cities, neighbourhoods or just flats about every six months. Now I have lived not only in the same town, but the same flat for five years. I got a dog. My life is now filled with familiar beats and routines. What makes a year, then, when everything looks roughly the same from the one before?

Jarvis cools off in the South Pacific Ocean during a springtime trip to North New Brighton in Christchurch, New Zealand, October 2013.

Taken earlier that day? Nope, same location one year later, November 2014.

One of the risks of getting older is that your tolerance for being bad at something declines. This can be seen as a good thing; it suggests an appreciation of quality. Your taste is developing; your behaviour aligns with your evolving aesthetic preferences.

On the other hand, it can become a crutch that can encourage leaning too much on your strengths. The willingness to risk failure recedes. Your ego takes over. You fear the frustration of going back to square one and starting again.

That was what I admired about my best friend Mary. Although Mary and I are both American, we first crossed paths in Christchurch four years ago through TradeMe when Mary responded to our flatmate listing.

We killed a lot of time together.

Mary and I find Flat Man at a roller derby game in Christchurch, New Zealand, October 2013

Flat outing to watch the All Blacks smash France in Christchurch, New Zealand, November 2013

Mary and I in our best op shop threads headed off to a dance thrown by the Avon City Rock and Roll Club. Outfit coordinated to match Jarvis, who seems more impressed with Mary. Christchurch, New Zealand, September 2014

A few years back, Mary became inspired by her mother’s foray into guitar back in Pennsylvania and signed up for lessons in Christchurch. I watched as she sat in the lounge of our flat and struggled until her fingers formed habits. She was willing to be bad at something again, like a kid. Her comfort with her own vulnerability inspired me to pick up a guitar again, no longer frozen from having barely touched it for the last 10 years. I didn’t critique myself for being bad as I played with Mary. It reminded me that music is the most fun thing that two friends can do. I even relaxed enough to remember and show her the few things that I knew.

Hanging out with sisters, dogs, and guitars in Diamond Harbour, Christchurch, New Zealand, November 2014.

“You lost your inhibitions,” our flatmate Winston mused.

Mary and I wouldn’t necessarily play every week, but we would always meet up. That element of the ritual was religious. We poured glasses of hot water with lemon, red wine, or whiskey, depending on how we were feeling. We talked about life and love and loss and wrote down the bits that seemed to have a nice cadence. Sometimes we held our guitars, sometimes we forgot and just got drunk instead. We wrote dozens of pieces of songs and melodies, which gave us a glowing, happy buzz. We never bothered to finish any of them.

At times it seems like the only meaning of life on an island is to enjoy and take pleasure in the moment. Spontaneous meetings and deep friendships can look the same at first sight, so you never quite know whether a novel chance encounter might dissipate that day or become one of the longest threads of your life. Timing matters. It can make the difference between crossing paths and entering lives.

Back in August, I only knew our bandmate Ray through some workmates. We planned to get a coffee when I came down to Wanaka with Mary for our annual ski holiday.

Mary and I at Treble Cone in Wanaka, New Zealand, a year my car didn’t break down.

We had made it to the top of the Treble Cone car park and shut off the car when steam began pouring out of the hood.

“Well,” I chirped. “Anyone got AA?”

A promise to catch up with Ray for a coffee turned into a plea for my dog and I to stay with her family until my car got fixed. They took me in with open arms. Jarvis and I stayed for five days. Ray and I found a quiet peace in each other’s presence, and often embarked on thoughtful conversations.

Ray stared into the distance after hearing that Mary and I played together. “That’s cool,” she said, unwrapping her lips from her vape. “I’d love to get back into playing music.” Music had been her first love in childhood; long instilled by her music teacher mother. She too had left it behind in her twenties to pursue other things. Now, she was reconsidering. A soft glow came over her face. “You know that feeling when you are playing with people, and all of a sudden the music starts going somewhere on its own, and you don’t have to think about it anymore, and everyone is on the same level?”

My face dropped. What Mary and I did could be best described as melodic analysis, which often involved little to no playing. I wanted to slowly pass a hand in front of Ray’s face like Obi-Wan Kenobi and say in a low voice, “These are not the droids you are looking for.”

Ray was keen on moving back to Christchurch. There was a room going in our flat when Ray moved back to Christchurch a few months later. She took it.

Jenny and I had met five years before, though it took us four hours in a car together to remember that. Our boyfriends’ bands played a gig together; I went to her house for a barbecue. Although we met, both of us walked away relatively unchanged. It was only when our paths crossed again in Dunedin as flatmates that we started to spend long stretches of time together.

Jarvis chilling on the front porch of the flat where Jenny and I met (again), North East Valley in Dunedin, New Zealand, June 2017.

The night of the Pixies concert I drove Jenny back up to Christchurch and asked if she played music, too.

“Not really,” she said. She played drums once or twice, but she was pretty bad. “Although,” she conceded, “after four or five times of being really bad at it, once I sat down at the drums and it just started coming out of me. My limbs were moving without me even thinking. I was like, ‘Oh my god! I can do it!”

“My band is looking for a drummer,” I said.

“I’m not a very good drummer though,” she conceded. “I don’t keep in time.”

“Neither can we,” I replied. “Sounds like you would be perfect.”

Two weeks later Brenda asked whether I knew any bands that could open for her band when they came down two months later for a gig at the darkroom, in June. None of us had ever played a set of original music live before. We measured the length of the songs that were near finished. In theory, we could do it. Mary and Ray were living in Christchurch; Jenny and I in Dunedin. Occasionally we came together in Christchurch to practice.

Band poster for The Biscuits’ Christchurch show for their Rise 7″ release tour, with support acts Les Baxters, Instant Fantasy, and us! June 2017

The week before the gig, I was still in a panic. Things as simple as standing, holding a guitar, playing a guitar and singing into a microphone proved difficult to coordinate. Before I had wondered why microphone stands had two halves and bent. It makes sense as soon as you are standing behind one that doesn’t. I had to stand so close to it my guitar knocked into the stand. It was so distracting, not a single note I sang was in tune.

A few days before the show we threw in a melody I had come up with a few weeks earlier while riding mopeds around Hawaii with Geof. When I found on the piano back in Christchurch, Ray and Mary loved it and asked if it could be put somewhere in the set as an interlude. I wasn’t nailing the solo every time that I played.

“Guys,” I pleaded. “What are we doing playing live on Friday night?”

“It will be fine,” Ray said in her zen way. “We can do this. We just need to run through them a few times. Look how far we have come.”

We ran through our first song again. “That time sounded better,” Brian said.

The night before the show I was a bit more relaxed. “This is so cool,” I said, looking around the room at my friends. “We’re all taking each other somewhere none of us have been before.”

“Thank you for doing this,” I said to Ray as we mingled in the kitchen the morning of the show.

“It is really cool,” Ray agreed. “It’s been so good getting back into music again. Playing with you guys has changed my journey. Even my mom was saying, ‘It’s so good that you are playing again!’ And now I may study it…”

I smiled. “It’s wonderful to be a part of that return for you.”

In New Zealand, the passing of time can seem like one long endless day.

Floating the Avon with friends in Christchurch, New Zealand, 2015

Taken the same day? No, two years later in February 2017, the year we decided to float the Heathcote – a far worse idea.

What is the meaning of time when life can at times feel like Groundhog Day on an island?

It reminds me of a Maori saying my little sister fell in love with when she came over for a year.

My little sister and absolute favourite person in the world Holleigh out on a walk in the Port Hills with Jarvis and her students, Christchurch, New Zealand, August 2015 – the only year she was in New Zealand.

“He aha te mea nui o te ao. He tāngata, he tāngata, he tāngata.”

What is the most important thing in the world?

It is people, it is people, it is people.

#christchurch #newzealand #music #everydaylife #friends #family

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