#i make up for it with super thick dark armpit hair

[bittermarching]

Hate it when people (usually libfems) say shit like "white women think it's the height of activism to stop shaving their invisible leg hair." Well excuse me not all of us are lucky enough to grow thick leg hair. I'm doing my best here, not my fault my leghair follicles won't get with the program

[richarlotte]

Hair Removal Methods.

I was heavily inspired by a post I found on Reddit when making this post. I haven’t seen too many posts about hair removal methods on Tumblr, and I have quite a few asks in my inbox about that, so it made sense for me to make a small guide with tips, methods, and recommendations. If you want more information, product names, my sugar wax recipe, or just recommendations, please don’t hesitate to send me an email or just comment below for me to respond.

Shaving.

Cost: $

Speed: Average

Smoothness: Average

Discomfort: Low

Tips/Methods:

* Always buy men’s razors. They usually come with  sharper blades that don’t clog as much as the blades on women’s razors.

* I only shave using hot water and when I’m in the shower. The hot water softens the hair and makes it easy to remove, and the flow of the water prevents my razor from clogging.

* The direction you shave is important. If you shave against the grain (the direction opposite the hair points), you can get a closer shave, but you risk ingrown hairs. Shave with the grain on sensitive areas and do multiple passes if needed.

* I personally use shaving cream from EOS and products from Topicals to lessen ingrown hairs and clear up dark marks. Shaving isn’t my preferred method or hair removal, but when I’m in a rush, it gets the job done.

Best for your whole body, especially large and flat areas like your arms and legs. It's cheap and effective but often time consuming. If you want to maintain a perfectly smooth body, you’ll have to shave or touch up at least twice a week.

Nair/Chemical Removal.

Cost: $

Speed: Medium

Smoothness: Smooth

Discomfort: Low

Tips/Methods:

* There are many brands but the basic idea is you apply the cream to your skin, wait 5-10 minutes while the hair “melts" off your body, then you wipe it off. You’ll definitely need to shower after using Nair to remove any excess cream and to avoid burning your skin. I would say this is mandatory unless your specific brand says otherwise.

* The process will probably smell pretty bad. You'll want to wipe the cream and hair off with something disposable to avoid ruining your regular towels. I personally use tissue, you can use anything easily accessible.

* PATCH TEST BEFORE USE. These creams and powders are made from very really strong chemicals and can absolutely mess you up if you aren't careful. Everyone's skin is different, so put a little on your arm first, see how it reacts, then use it on a larger area.

Best For: Armpits and pubic hair. I find these creams are best at getting hard to reach or uneven surfaces that your razor might struggle with. This is also a good option if you are in a hurry or don't have the option to try the options below.

Epilation.

Cost: $$

Speed: Slow

Smoothness: High

Discomfort: High

Tips/Methods:

* Epilators look kind of like foil shavers you'd use for your face, but the end has a roller with tiny clamps that essentially grab hairs and pull them out.

* Personally I think these hurt like a bitch, especially the first time you use them. You can definitely feel each individual hair get pulled out of your skin.

* The main benefit of an epilator (and waxing, discussed below) is that you're pulling the entire hair out, root and all. This means hair in that area will grow back significantly slower than shaving. It also means that if you're willing to commit to a routine, each future use with the epilator will be less painful.

* I highly recommend icing the area before and after to avoid swelling. That being said, the area needs to be completely dry for the device to work.

* Epilator performance has always been pretty hit and miss for me. They're good at getting coarse hair, but will struggle to get fine or short strands. Again, you will likely need to make a shaving pass to clean up anything left behind.

* Additionally, if your hair is too thick or the surface is too uneven, the epilator can get tangled and stop functioning leading to a super painful situation. As with any of these tips, definitely test on a small area and see how it performs for you so you can get a feel for the length/thickness your device can handle.

Best For: Flat smooth surfaces, primarily your arms, legs, and torso. Some people really love epilation, others don’t. I think epilation is an acquired taste and it’s not my favorite method.

Waxing.

Cost: $$ to $$$

Speed: Slow

Smoothness: High

Discomfort: High

Tips/Methods:

* When you need to get 100% smooth there is no substitute. I love the way my body feels after waxing or sugaring and it’s what works best for me.

* I'll do my best here as a general overview but please watch some video guides before attempting this. I'll cover the two most common options I have experience with: soft wax, sugaring, and hard wax.

* Soft Wax: Hot wax is applied to the skin, then bandage strips are applied over. Once the wax cools, the strips are pulled off, taking the hair with them. This method is probably what you've seen in movies. They're good for getting rid of finer hairs, but unlike hard wax, you risk taking off your skin if you do it wrong. If you're trying waxing at home (especially for the first time), avoid this option. Despite the name, hard wax is actually much safer and what I recommend

* Hard wax: Hot wax is applied to the skin. Once it hardens, you peel the wax off by itself, taking hair with it. Since hard wax only bonds to hair and not skin it's a much safer option for beginners and does just as good a job removing hair as soft wax. This is what I use when I don’t have time to make my sugaring solution and I've never looked back.

* Wax is warmed in a... wax warmer! It's a little pot with a heating element, kind of like a croc pot. Hard waxes come in pellets that you dump in, soft waxes usually come with their own container that pops into the unit. Look for a wax warmer that can adjust the temp, not just an on/off switch. Most but not all have this feature. Each wax brand is different so you'll need more/less heat to melt it correctly, especially if you're doing a longer session where the wax can begin to solidify in the pot.

* Popsicle sticks are a cheap, effective way to apply wax. You'll want something disposable as it can get quite messy.

* Waxing, like epilators, will slow down your hair growth. This means the more you do it in the same area the less hair will grow back, and the less painful each subsequent application will be.

* Your hair needs to be a certain length for the wax to catch, so check your brand and plan accordingly. My professional technician has mentioned 1/4th inch is a good guideline for when to start waxing.

* As with every method on this list, please test on a small part of your body first. The wax will be quite hot (like getting into a hot bath) but not so much that it burns your skin.

Best For: any area you want super smooth or silky.

Laser Hair Removal.

Cost: $$$$

Speed: Slow

Smoothness: Depends.

Discomfort: High

Tips/Methods:

* Getting started will take some time and effort. You have to set up a consultation beforehand before even scheduling a session where you'll talk to the professional, ask any questions, then work out your plan.

* Laser hair removal is a process over time, not a one and done. Considering each session can cost hundreds of dollars, we are talking a huge investment. It cost me $800 over 4 sessions just for a small area on my lower body. For larger areas, we could be talking thousands!

* On that note, the total cost is going to vary a ton. Not only will each area be priced differently, but most places require you to book multiple sessions in a row or packages of X sessions you can choose to use over a year.

* The pigment of your skin matters a lot. Generally speaking the darker your skin the harder/less effective the process will be. There are different types of lasers available that may make this irrelevant but you'll definitely want to do your homework.

Final Thoughts.

What matters most is time. If you have the time to wax or shave your whole body, go to a professional for laser hair removal or pro waxing, or epilate yourself, then you’ll have much better results than someone who rushes through everything. Learning, investing in quality products, and then actually investing time into the hair removal process will get you closer to where you want to be without wasting as much time or money as you would leaping in blind or with no effort.

Richarlotte x

[octuscle]

im a skinny 18 year old nerd who is also a wimp and super shy. i'm 5 foot 7 inches tall with an iq of 160 .one afternoon i was walking across the college campus was on my way to  the Chemistry Lab when a pair of big burly hands grabbed me , punched me in the gut. When i came to ,i was tied to a bench with rope in the male locker room. my legs were tied to a bar below the bench and my hands two the pegs above. my mouth was coved with duct tape with a mouthguard inside my mouth. i look down to see all my clothes were gone i was wearing only a jock strap . i have never worn a jockstrap before it was so uncomfortable .i look to see my red star trek t-shirt , my jeans, my sneakers and socks & my "geeky" white briefs were are cut up on the floor. i look up to see that i was surrounded by the hairiest, most manly, most self-centered, most muscled guys on campus : The college football team. the football team was wearing gray tank tops & crimson basketball shorts. the football players were at least 6 feet 3 inches tall in height and is broad-shouldered and muscular in build .their faces have thick beards, .they took off their tank tops i saw they all have 6 pack abs , substantial pecs and arms They told me that each fall they capture a college freshman nerd they take him to the locker room & the jocks take that geek & they make that geek into one of their own. that this year i was that nerd & that soon i will be unrecognizable that my nerdy body will be going though the changes of having a nerds body into growing & becoming a jocks body. soon i will have a body of a jock. that the mouthguard in my mouth is not only collecting spit in my mouth in process of changing my high nerdy voice into a deep jock voice .they will let me keep my iq ill be the team linebacker & tutor. i will also tutor the cheerleaders& sorority girls who also will find me  the  object of sexual desire for most of the women on campus . i saw a gym bag in a corner with other pairs of boxers& jockstraps& clothes such as gym shorts, tank top, sweats, a box of  XXL Magnum condoms  and a table right in front of me on that table was a football uniform, The helmet, cleats, jersey, and gear .they shoe me the jersey with my last name. also on the table other items that will turn my nerds body into a jocks body items such as jock deodorant& shaving cream which change my hair less nerdy armpits into hairy jock armpits& will also cause my face to grow a thick brown beard. a protective cup which when the team put the protective cup under my jockstrap caused my dick to grow into a huge jock dick. i watch as they change my nerds body into a jock body with a genius iq. afterwards the team had practice then take my team picture with in my football uniform .after practice i changes my clothes into a gray tank tops & crimson basketball shorts same outfit as the other guys on the team for a party at a frat house at the frat house the guys on the team took off my tank top to show my jock body that i now have a 6 pack abs , substantial pecs and arms which lead the cheerleaders & sorority girls to bid on who i will lose my v card to now living my as a tall nerd jock hybrid with a genius iq who is a chem major . my jock build & broad-shouldered, alongside my wavy dark brown hair, perfectly puts me into the description of "tall, dark and handsome. As result of my good looks (and sometimes solely because of them), i am is often the object of sexual desire for most of the women on campus. the women on campus have been known to physically objectify me. i have also have model recruiters after me . i'm generally oblivious to my attractiveness

Bro, what else can I add… But I don't understand what you have with the cheerleaders and the chicks?

As far as I know, the smell of the quarterback's sweaty hair makes you horny and wild…

But anyway, the world needs more hot nerds. Have fun!

[miasmaghoul]

Share the body hair headcanons and I will draw them for you.

JOEY I READ THIS AND MY HEART STOPPED HOLY SHIT

YES MA'AM

UNDER THE CUT BC LONG AND ALSO DESCRIPTIONS OF JUNK <3

Aether - could grow a beard if he wanted, but prefers having stubble. very hairy guy in terms of surface area, all over his body. but it's not super thick or dense, so it just makes him really nice to touch. like he has a pajama coat. fingers, arms to the shoulder, chest, belly, back, ass, legs from thigh to toe and everywhere in between. keeps his bush neatly trimmed, but not too short.

Dewdrop - hairless rat, with the exception of his armpits and lower legs. has the ghost of a happy trail that just peeks out of his underwear. all the hair is very light in color and soft to touch. what little grows around his crotch gets shaved off, and Dew will swear up and down it's not to make his dick look bigger. could not grow a beard if he tried, which is fine by him.

Rain - also mostly hairless, thanks to his water ghoul nature. can work up a solid stubble if you give him a few days, but not much beyond that. happy trail starts just below his belly button, spilling into a nest of long, silky hair at the base of his dick. he doesn't do much to it, he likes the frame it makes. no leg hair to speak of, which he appreciates when he swims. a little on his arms though.

Swiss - H A I R Y. slightly coarse, curly hair, the definition of BUSH. while Aether has him beat in terms of coverage, Swiss absolutely wins in density. his pecs are covered, the hair thick enough that you can grip it. his happy trail runs all the way from his chest to his crotch. hairy back too, between his shoulders. relatively hairy legs, VERY hairy ass. does solid maintenance on both it and his actual bush for the sake of his partners. can and will grow a beard, but will shave upon request. always keeps the mustache and stubble though.

Mountain - super hairy legs and moderately hairy upper chest, the hair long and dark. other than that, not much. doesn't really have much of a happy trail, just some hair around his dick and balls. he doesn't do much to it. has a habit of twirling it between his fingers when he's relaxing in bed. can't grow much beyond chin scruff, which he usually does.

Cumulus - waxes all but her pubes, a nice nest of soft curls between her thighs. she likes being soft and smooth everywhere else. she thinks it suits her, and no one is about to disagree.

Cirrus - lets her armpit and leg hair grow out so she can make of the others get on their knees and shave it for her. has no preference for hairy vs. hairless on herself though, and she'll leave everything unshaven for weeks at a time on occasion. only exception is her pubic hair, never more that a thin rectangle of it just above her slit. they all go crazy for it.

Sunshine - my Sunshine is transfem, and she's proud to be hairy. her hair is short and curly, and she keeps every bit of it unshaven. armpits and legs, a pretty nest around her dick, a trail ending just below her belly button. no trimming here, the growth makes her feel beautiful.

Bonus:

Ifrit - hairless by choice. he chest and back naturally don't grow anything, and everything else gets shaved. he figures he has this body, he might as well show it the fuck off. could maybe grow a johnny depp style beard, but would never want to hide his jawline.

[coffee-n-some-cream]

butch 4 butch (girls!rasey)

Ella came over to her house all the time. She crashed on the couch or sprawled on her bedroom floor. They would run amok in the streets, getting up to stupid shit, drinking too many beers for a pair of teenagers in public, hollering at each other across the street, digging through trash, wrestling each other in a park gazebo. They always stumbled into Casey’s house well after midnight, buzzed and giggling and covered with new scrapes, not even bothering to keep their voices down because when Casey’s dad had his whiskey in him a train barging into the house wouldn’t wake him up. It was nothing they’d be able to get away with at Ella’s, with her caring father and overbearing sister waiting up all hours of the night for her.

After they had gotten all their energy out, their screams and cackles and roughhousing, they would collapse in twin piles of sweaty limbs and toothy grins. And then, only then, did the quiet of the night and the shadows of Casey’s room allow the important things to be said.

“I think his drinking is getting worse.”

“You can crash at mine any time.”

“Your dad doesn’t like me. Neither does your sister.”

“Yeah, but they’re not total assholes.”

Sometimes Casey’s hand would dangle over the side of her bed, the tips of her fingers brushing the soft fabric of Ella’s t-shirt. Something so light and casual it could be an accident.

“My sisters are scared of me.”

“Scared for you, probably.”

“Shouldn’t be.”

“They love you, dumbass.”

Sometimes Ella would kick her leg up and rest it on the mattress, foot barely resting against Casey’s leg.

“What if I’m just like him?”

“Gross. You’re nothing like him.”

And sometimes they would just sprawl half over each other on Casey’s twin bed, Casey’s leg curling around Ella’s and Ella’s arm trapped under Casey’s back. As they dozed, Casey could turn her head and smell the musk of Ella’s sweat on her neck, could see the steady rise of her chest in the light of the streetlamp.

“I think I… nevermind.” 

“What?”

“Nah.”

“...Pussy.”

“Fuck you.”

Ella woke up with her arms around Casey more than once, head practically buried in her hairy armpit as Casey starfished across the bed.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Casey might drawl. “Get cold and lonely last night?”

“Holding on for dear life, more like it. I don’t know why I even try sleeping in the bed, you always try to push me out of it in your sleep.”

That summer, they played the night on repeat. Ella’s family would treat her presence as a rare occurrence. Donna would react to the sight of her with sardonic shock, Mika would needle her and beg her to stay long enough to get crushed in Super Smash Bros. Dad accepted her daily goings with wary side-eyes, and Leona seemed to oscillate between lip-pursed lectures on staying out too late and too-sincere worry about what Ella got up to.

“Going to Casey’s. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“This is shocking news.” Donna drawled.

“Ella… Remember that Mika’s softball games start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Bye.”

Casey’s dad, on the other hand, barely noticed whether Casey was there or not.

“I swear, I could walk out of the house naked and throw myself into traffic and he wouldn’t even notice until the electricity got turned off because I’m the only one who remembers to pay it.”

Their evenings were spent wrapped in each other’s worlds, loud and raucous and competing to make each other laugh. The nights were cool and sticky with dried sweat and dipping their heads together in secrecy, trusting each other with the parts of their hearts that they couldn’t share with anyone else.

Casey’s eyes were brown, but looked like deep wells of black in the indigo darkness of her room. Her hair spilled inky and stringy over her mattress, escaping from her ponytail in long tangled strands. Ella’s own ponytail could barely hold together at the best of times, as short and thick as it was.

Ella toyed with the ends of Casey’s hair where they poured over the bed. “You ever wanna just… cut it all off?”

“Nah, too much work.”

“Isn’t taking care of it too much work?”

Casey’s shoulders shook with an almost silent chuckle. “Does it look like I take care of it?”

Ella snorted. “Good point.”

Casey was curled on her side on the bed, looking down at where Ella was laying on the floor, unopened sleeping bag separating her from the hardwood floor. It was a hot, sticky night. Too hot to share the bed.

“I kinda want to cut mine off. Just. Full chop.”

“Do it, then.”

“I don’t wanna deal with all the comments and shit. People will freak out.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Yeah.”

Ella’s fingers tangled in the ends of Casey’s hair, further up than before, and Casey felt the slight tug on her scalp. She hummed, feeling wide awake.

“Hey, what was that thing you were gonna say the other night but wimped out about?”

A long sigh. “Can you drop that?”

“Fuck no, dude. I wanna know.”

“It was stupid.”

“So? We say stupid shit all the time.”

“Uh, who’s ‘we’?”

“Fuck you.”

A snicker and another tug, this time very deliberate. Casey bit her lip because Ella wasn’t looking at her face. Her eyes were trained on the ends of her hair.

“What was it?”

Silence followed.

Casey reached down and batted at Ella’s face. Her hand was smacked away and Ella turned her head, but Casey just reached out again and stuck a finger in Ella’s ear. Her hand was smacked away again, this time harder.

“Would you fuckin’ stop?”

“What was it?”

Another sigh, and Ella glared at the ceiling of Casey’s room. Casey watched the discomfort grow on her face. She saw the moment Ella decided to tell her the truth, her eyes overtaken by regret even before she opened her mouth.

“I think I'm gay.”

Casey blinked. “Oh.”

Ella continued to stare at the ceiling. She reached up to scratch at her brow, hand hiding her eyes from Casey’s view. “Yeah.”

“That’s cool.”

A glance in her direction. “Is it?”

Casey was sure it must be showing, all the noise in her head and the bubbling over in her chest. She was sure her breaths must be coming in pants, that she must be floating off the bed a bit, that her eyes must have little cartoon hearts in them. Of course it was cool. Jesus fuck, of course it was. 

“Yeah, man.” Casey’s hand dangled down and mingled with her hair, both no longer touching or being touched by Ella. “I mean. Pretty sure I’m bi. So.”

Ella searched her face, apprehensive, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You are?”

“Yeah. Since I was, like, twelve. Thought you knew.” A shrug. “So I get it. Girls are hot.”

Ella’s eyes looked cool and colorless in the moonlight as they watched her. Casey watched her right back, thinking that in the daylight they were the warmest hazel. Ella’s breaths hitched before she evened them out again, and the silence stretched between them. Silence wasn’t something they usually did.

Casey opened her mouth to say something, and her fingers twitched forward. But Ella was so still, and she looked scared. Casey had never seen her scared. She pulled her hand up onto the bed.

“Hey. Let me cut your hair.”

A breath escaped Ella’s mouth. “What makes you think I’m gonna trust you with a pair of scissors near my head?”

“Because I’m gonna use clippers, and I’ve been cutting my dad’s hair with them since I was seven.”

“Good point.”

The soft buzz filling the room that night clung to the inside of Ella’s ears and filled her up with something warm. She sat in Casey’s desk chair and stared at the baseball bat that sat in the corner of the bedroom, broken in half and patched together with duct tape. They hadn’t bothered with a towel, so strands of soft, black hair fell over Ella’s shoulders and into her lap. She held one lock between her fingers, rolling it back and forth. Her skin tingled where Casey’s fingers ran along her scalp, her neck. Fingers pulled lightly at her hair, tousling it, and a warm shiver went down her spine.

A breeze pushed through the window and Ella could feel it against her scalp. She sighed.

A hand brushed the hair from the back of her neck, and the buzzing stopped abruptly. “We’re gonna need to hose you off. I’m itchy just looking at you. But I think you’re done.”

Ella reached up to feel her head, her breath catching at the prickly hairs against her palm. Casey turned the chair until she faced the mirror that was propped up against the dresser. Ella stared at herself.

“What do you think?” Casey grinned, the gaps in her teeth on full display. “Not counting the piles of hair all over you.”

Ella nodded, not taking her eyes away from the mirror. She looked like a different person. A stronger person. Someone Ella wished she was.

“I think you look hot,” Casey blurted when Ella didn’t answer. “The butch look suits you.”

When Ella turned to look at her, a huge smile spread across her face. It was wide and warm and ferocious, and Casey thought that smile could eat her alive if she let it.

“Yeah. I like it.”

Ella’s family didn’t freak out as much as she thought. Donna didn’t even notice that her hair was short until Mika rolled out of bed, wandered into the kitchen, and let out a piercing shriek of joy at the sight of her. Leona bemoaned Ella’s willingness to let Casey near her head with a pair of clippers, but offered a tentative smile as she said, “It looks nice.” Dad just tousled her hair with a gentle hand and remarked that it made her look so grown up, a wistful tinge to his voice.

Ella couldn’t keep her hands off her own head for the first few days. Casey got a pride-filled grin every time she caught her running a hand over the nape of her neck or palming the hair around her temples. The new hair seemed to be an excuse to get her hands in the mix as well, ruffling and mussing the short strands every chance she got so they stood up in odd spots.

The days were hotter, the sun harsher, and Casey’s A/C wasn’t up to the job. Casey declared that Ella could have the stinkin’ bed before sprawling out on the cool hardwood floor. Ella sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her. Casey’s forehead was against the floor, her hair pulled into a high ponytail to keep it off her neck, and Ella was staring at the wispy hairs at her nape. They were shiny and stuck together with sweat. Then her eyes followed the dusting of freckles along her neck. They ran up to her cheeks and behind her ears, then trailed down her shoulders and beneath the fabric of her shirt. Ella wondered, if she pulled the shirt off, how far they would go. Where the little flecks of brown would be.

“Quit staring, it’s getting me all hot and bothered.” Casey’s voice was soft and teasing, her nose scrunched.

Ella swallowed and looked away, face warming. “Weird joke.”

The room was silent for a moment. Crickets filled the night air, and a soft breeze ruffled the pages of a comic book Casey had left on the dresser.

“I wasn’t really joking.” Her voice wasn’t teasing anymore.

Ella’s heart started to hammer in her chest, and she didn’t dare look. Casey must see her breaths coming faster, the heat creeping up her neck, the sweat pooling in her collar bone.

Then Casey was in front of her, kneeling at her feet, a hand gripping the sheets next to Ella’s thigh. Ella couldn’t look away, her gaze pulled to those deep brown eyes, the way moonlight danced in them, the way they looked scared. Ella had never seen her scared.

Casey’s lips parted. “El.”

Ella’s fingers threaded with the greasy strands of Casey’s hair and pulled her forward, lips pressing harshly against hers. A gasp filled Ella’s chest at the jolt of heat that ran to her belly, and Casey’s breath warmed her cheek in a deep sigh of relief. Casey’s hands went around her waist, strong and bony and gentle, and with a little tilt of her head, she turned the kiss from something hurried and rough to something slower, sweeter. Her lips were so warm and soft against Ella’s, and it felt like she was smiling.

Ella’s hands loosened to cup her face, afraid that at any moment she would try to pull back. But she didn’t. Instead, she leaned forward, pushing herself between Ella’s knees. Ella could feel the ribbed fabric of her tank top against the inside of her thighs. Casey bit lightly at her bottom lip, and Ella sighed into her mouth.

Then Casey dipped her head and licked at the sweat along Ella’s collarbone. Ella’s hands knotted in the back of Casey’s shirt.

“Casey,” she breathed.

“El.” Casey kissed up her neck and sucked hard on the spot just under her ear.

Ella had to bite her lip to keep down her groan. “Casey, you cut my hair.”

“Sure did.” A kiss, a soft nibble, then she sucked on the skin again.

There was nothing she could do to hold back the shiver that ran down her spine, but she tugged on Casey’s hair, trying to pull her off. Casey just moaned a little and bit down on her neck harder.

“Case. My neck.” Another tug on her hair, another moan.

Casey’s lips were making obscenely wet sounds as they kissed her skin. “Your neck. Yeah.”

“Casey.” Ella finally yanked on her hair hard enough to pull her head away. “Don’t give me a hickey. I can’t cover it because you cut my hair.”

Casey’s pupils were huge, her lips swollen pink, and she stared at Ella blankly for a moment. Then understanding dawned in her eyes. “Oh, shit.” She looked at her neck. “Yeah. Um.”

“Dude, did you…?”

“Oh, yeah, I did.”

“Already?”

She nodded, eyes locked hungrily on the light bruise under Ella’s ear. “Yeah.”

Her hand slapped over the bruise, and Ella glared at Casey, which Casey thought was really hot, honestly, what with her kissed-pink lips and rosy cheeks.

“My family is gonna freak.”

Casey shrugged and grinned. “Fuck ‘em.”

“If my dad sees me with this, there’s no way I’ll be able to spend the night here anymore.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Shit. Do you have anything to cover it, like makeup?”

“Seriously?” Ella’s hands gestured around the room. “Me? Do you have makeup?”

Casey chewed on her lip. “The butch look has its downsides. What about your sisters?”

“Leona wears makeup sometimes, but if she sees this there’s no way she’s not snitching to Dad.” Ella rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. “Mika loves makeup, but that kid can’t keep a secret to save her damn life, and Donna doesn’t touch the stuff.”

The floorboards creaked loudly as Casey stood and walked to her closet. Ella watched her rifle through it, yanking hangers against each other and digging through the pile that covered her shoes. She had thought the way she felt, if it ever managed to escape into the dark little haven of Casey’s room, would destroy their little something, rend it to pieces, stamp it into the ground and spit on it. It had been an ugly, fearful thing sitting in her chest. But it had gotten free. And Casey was the same, talked to her the same, looked at her the same. Ella thought that meant something. That the way Casey looked at her when they kissed was the same way she always looked at her.

Casey was in front of her again holding a hoodie. She snapped her fingers in front of Ella’s face. “You with me? You good?”

Ella swatted at the hand. “Quit.” She yanked the hoodie out of her hands and inspected it, feeling the well-worn fabric, sniffing it. It had the musk of a hoodie that had been worn for a while without being washed. And the sleeves had been cut off, the edges jagged and fraying like Casey had done it really quickly with a pair of dull scissors.

Casey let her look it over for a bit, then tugged on it gently, pulling it around her shoulders and putting the hood over her head. “There.” She reached into the hood and tapped the hickey, making Ella jump. “Can’t see it.”

“Your solution is for me to wear a hoodie? In summer?” Even as she spoke, her finger hooked into the loop of Casey’s jean shorts and pulled her closer.

“The sleeves are cut off, it’s cool enough.” Casey lifted one knee to rest on the mattress between Ella’s legs. “By the way, your arms are gonna look so good in that.”

“They’re definitely gonna know something’s up.”

“You got a better idea?” Casey whispered, leaning forward so her breaths puffed against Ella’s lips.

“Good point.” Ella pulled her down and kissed her again.

[edgessunflower]

Hii! I hope I'm allowed to send this even tho I'm a new follower if not, so sorry!! I just find this whole thing really nice and I checked out your writing, it's great!!!

"⚓️ - Send this with a description of yourself and the fandom(s) you want a ship for!" Could I please get this with Harry Potter and Stranger things? 💗

I am an omnisexual (leaning towards men) she/her female.

I am 5'5 and not really chubby but not really skinny either? I'm in the middle. I'm white so on the paler side but I COOK in the summer, trust. I have hazel/green eyes and light brown, thick, fluffy hair that sits just above my armpits. My style mixes between y2k/streetwear to girlier (I think it'd called coquette).

My hobbies are drawing, writing, and I enjoy many different sports bit don't play super often. I am a HUGEEE foodie, I'll marry you if you give me some good food. If eating and shopping were officially considered hobbies, they'd be mine.

I love my stuffed animals (seriously, I have an unhealthy amount on my bed.), makeup and perfume (although I only wear mascara, lipgloss, and highlighter and only on certain days.). My fav colours are cherry (dark) red and baby pink. I love the tight shirt and baggy pants combo, but also baggy + baggy combo.

My hogwarts house is ravenclaw and I'm an A+ to B (occasionally a b- but only in certain subjects) student. I'm pretty shy when I don't know someone but once we are close I'm really loud and odd. I'm kind of a nerd when it comes to things I enjoy, I can easily get into a ramble about them if they are even slightly mentioned ☠️. I know a lot of people but have 5-6 friends that I truly trust. I'd also say I'm a girls girl, but am also friends with a couple guys.

I say mean things but make it well known that I don't actually mean them and they are all lighthearted jokes that mainly are only said after they are said to me first. I have a really kind and sensitive heart but I cover it up with sarcasm and sassy jokes (that is also my personality, but only one side.) because one of my biggest fears is to be seen as weak or pitiful. I don't talk about my family life because I would rather seem like my life is put together, I don't l want to seem like the friend with a messy life.

I overall have confidence but have my insecure moments. I'm also an ambivert leaning towards extrovert, I enjoy hanging out w people but need a bit of time to myself to recharge after.

Also I apologize if the formatting is wrong or anything!! I've never done anything like this on here before :))

Ofc honey! Everyone is included!

First I ship you with James Potter! 🧡

He likes to silently listen to you rambles no matter what they are about or how long they are he always listens with a gentle smile on his face

He gets you a new stuffed animal every week when he can in between studies and classes always leaving the stuffed animal and a flower on your bed when you're in class

He loves how you just fit in with him and his friends always acting like an older sister to Remus and Sirius who love you dearly and protect you like you protect them

He likes to take you near the lake with food for a picnic instead of sitting and eating in the great hall sometimes so the two of you can have some time together

He likes your sarcasm within your humor always smiling and chuckling at the obvious sarcasm in your jokes especially if you're done dealing with people

He likes helping you with things even if they frustrate him too like helping you with potions or studying a spell together he doesn't stop until you got it in your back pocket

Next I ship you with Steve Harrington ❣️

He likes to bring you food with little notes attached to it even if some of them are cheesy but each note makes you smile

He likes to see you in baggy pants especially if you're also wearing one of his shirts it adds to the look for him making him smile from ear to ear when he sees you in baggy pants and one of his shirts for the day

He likes going out shopping and eating with you even if it's just for clothes or grocery shopping for the month he still likes going holding your hand the whole time

He likes to see you in anything red especially bright red to him red made you more vibrant and brought out more of your features especially your smile

He likes to read what you write especially poe's and stories always smiling and being giddy if it's about him

He likes to watch you draw but he loves when you draw him and leave it nearly folded in his pocket or on his pillow when you stay the night with him

[serenedash]

HOW did you make your Baldr cosplay. You've inspired me to wanna try and make one too, got any tips on doing it?

aaaaaa I feel so honored I inspired you!!!! ;0; my disclaimer is that I am the farthest thing from a professional lol, but I will show you how I did it! My cosplay philosophy is that I am lazy and want to spend as little money as possible ⭐ I always use clothes I already own, the base outfit I already owned I only needed to get the belts, hoodie and wig

This is long I'm so sorry I just went thru the whole process :')

Here is every part of the finished cosplay:

Boots

Black jeans

Pants chain (mine is just an old one from hot topic)

Blue belts x2 (got these on Amazon, $10 USD each)

Black shirt + vest (or you can do one black button down, in canon Baldr looks like he's wearing a black vest over a white shirt but I felt like my vest was too low it would've looked weird)

Black fingerless gloves

Hoodie (Amazon, $18 USD) + tassel (Joann's Fabrics $10 USD)

Mark of mastery by MadeByFjori on Etsy ($6 USD) I bought it unpainted to save money and just got some metallic gold paint :) its really good quality and shipped fast! I had taped a safety pin on the back of it to attach it to the hoodie (I had tried super gluing it but it mf broke off!!! Tape it is,)

Wig (mine is the Skyelar classic in silver from Arda Wigs!) If you have no experience styling wigs that's fine since Baldr's hair is so choppy that if you fuck it up it works LOL I always style my wigs while wearing them thats just me, I brushed the hair in front of my face and cut the bangs around the bottom of my eyes and went from there. I also cut part of the sides framing my face

If you have dark hair like me I recommend a skin colored wig cap!!! Dark hair spilling out from a white wig will look weird, they sell them kn the Arda Wigs site

Optional: Starlight keyblade from Spirit Halloween ($40 USD) it's solid plastic, lightweight and looks amazing! The only bad thing I've found is the keychain just. Is not durable. Last year it broke off at a convention and I lost it 😔

Optional: face mask by KumalatteCreations on Etsy ($16 USD) I wear it with all my KH cosplays lol I have 2 masks for cosplay from them, really great quality, fit and has a place to insert a filter. I have the OSFA teen/women size because my face is tiny :')

Okay but let's talk real shit: the Hoodie. It's a plain white sweatshirt from Amazon, size up to get that oversized look Baldr has. Also disclaimer: do NOT get a thick hoodie I tried my best to get a light weight one and oh my god. For something that is essentially Just Sleeves I was SWEATING TO DEATH okay anyway materials:

Hoodie base

Gold fabric (I bought 1 yard and had more than enough)

Black buttons x2

Black ribbon

Tassel

Fabric scissors, fabric glue, needle/thread, safety pins

Black and orange markers

If you get a hoodie like mine where the hood strings have metal around the edges, use white paint or white out (I did not have time to buy white paint,) to paint over the metal so its not distracting

Now the How To:

Pull out your hood strings if applicable, paint any metal like I mentioned above

Use fabric glue to add black ribbon around the sleeves, do this in sections not all at once, do the ends of the ribbon around the back of your armpit to hide the ends. On my hoodie there was a hem on the sleeves that I followed so it was easy to make it even on both sides

Crop sweatshirt in half and cut down the middle front but DO NOT go all the way to the top where the hood is, stop about 2 inches away from it otherwise you will be me having to sew that shit back together

Measure where you want the front to fold open, you will probably have to cut more off of the sweatshirt bc if its too big you will be pinning that shit onto the top of your shoulders, basically shorter in the front and longer in the back (I know mine is so messy I didn't measure I just guessed I know wtf @ me-)

Flip hoodie inside-out and add gold fabric to the inside of the hoodie, leave about half an inch room around the edge for hemming, yes the entire inside too, I found that when I moved around I could see the back of the inside and it looks weird when the gold fabric suddenly stops

If you have a sewing machine or want to do this by hand then fold over the edges and hem it on top of the gold (not me tho I was con crunching and glued that shit all the way around,) it cleans up the edges and adds the white border to the part you will pin open

What I WANTED to do was to sew the buttons onto the hoodie and add button holes on what would get pinned but I did not have the time so I sewed the buttons directly onto the front pieces so when I fold it open I used 2 safety pins on each side to hold it up

For the tassel: I colored it with a peachy/light orange sharpie and a black one. I measured how long I wanted it to be and cut the other end off and used fabric glue on the end to stop fraying. I wrap it around the buttons and do a simple loop knot to keep it in place

if you end up doing what I did irt the tassel, don't go in with a regular orange marker bc it came out so dark on the fabric its made of like I just happened to have this peach/skin tone sharpie that came out the right shade on the gold fabric

Finally, pin the mark of mastery in place!

Now you are Baldr :)

[seiyasabi]

Used

(This is Yandere Jotaro & StarPlatinum x Small,Virgin  Female Reader :p plz proceed w caution bc Jotaro is a meanie ;(( Sorry that this is so short, I lowkey lost inspiration lol. 

TW: !noncon!, !Photos taken w/o consent!, gagging!, !kind of extreme!, !degradation (not super bad, but I still wanna tag it), !some graphic descriptions!, DP!, size kink!, etc.. ) 

“Look at your useless bucket cunt,” Jotaro’s thumbs hold your pussy open, allowing SP to peer at it in awe. Thick globs of silver cum drip down from your previously unused cunny, slicking your ass and sheets below. Through his Stand’s eyes, Jotaro can see directly inside of you, allowing him to have a glimpse of your reddened walls and throbbing cervix. It was hard to believe that you were a virgin mere fifteen minutes before. 

Though his words are harsh, you can feel his hardened cock underneath you, practically pulsing with need. His knees hold yours open, while his hands restrain your wrists to the area underneath his armpits. Nodding towards SP, his Stand immediately unzips the dark haired man’s trousers, pulling out his thick prick. 

His tip is lined up to your gaping cunny, facing no resistance as he slides inside of your weeping walls. SP allows Jotaro to do as he pleases, as he wipes his enormous cock against your puckered asshole. Your creamy arousal, along with the Stand’s cum, lubes your unused hole, before shoving inside of you with brute force. 

A high pitched, muffled scream echoes throughout the room, as you cum uncontrollably. A gush of girl cum escapes your ruined cunny, soaking the three of you. Jotaro scoffs, secretly loving your lewd body, but deciding to chide you crudely, “Look at you, you’re such a fucking whore. I knew you were a slut the moment I saw you. That’s why I needed to tighten your fucking leash.” 

Both he and his Stand fuck into you harshly, your cervix being painfully prodded, and your asshole practically being ripped out of you with every thrust. Your juices spray everywhere without your consent, as you constantly cum from their abuse. 

Jotaro smacks your throbbing clit, making you tighten up in both pain and pleasure. He swears under his breath, deep grunts rumbling through his chest. You’re absolutely perfect. 

No one else would be able to handle Star Platinum and him like you do. 

No one would be able to cum so lewdly when their holes are being destroyed like you do. 

With one last thrust, both he and his Stand freeze. They both dump equally as thick and large loads inside of you, causing your tummy to bloat out slightly. 

By this point, your thighs are practically vibrating with how hard they’re shaking, and you’re practically slumped over in Jotaro’s buff arms. 

Your eyes flutter, letting him know that you’re still somewhat conscious. His rough hand rubs against your bloated tummy, sighing in delight. 

Nodding to SP, he unsummons him, leaving your asshole gaping and filled to the brim with cum. 

“You may be a cock hungry whore, but you’re MY whore. I’ll make sure you never forget that, (Your Name). SP and I will be your first and your last.” 

[gallickingun]

break the glass {in case of emergency} || t.s.

SUMMARY: Todoroki Shouto needs help, so he hires a nanny. More specifically, he hires you. 

PAIRING: Pro Hero!Shouto x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, slight violence, etc. WORD COUNT: 21.2k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* TAG LIST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ is at the end of this post!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the definition of a labor of love. big thanks to @k-atsukidayo, @freckledoriya, and @lady-bakuhoe for keeping me sane. and super shoutout to my love @shoutogepi bc she’s been my hype lady! i hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations because wow has it been a wild ride ♡

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

Shouto’s feet are trudging through the proverbial thick of life.

His ankles twist the further he tries to advance, and with every step forward, another tragedy breaks the fragility of the glass box he now lives in. The etching begins at the center, spreading out into cracks like lightning, threatening to shatter what remains of the clear cage.

And yet, Shouto must put on the mask, he must pretend that everything is fine when in fact he really would rather crumble to the floor with his hands in his hair. There are nights when he presses his palms into his temples, wishing and praying that someone out there might be listening so they can help him to will away the painful throbbing between his eyes. He can’t whimper, can’t make a sound, because if he does, if he withdraws the curtain and allows the world to know how inundated he truly is, then it will all be for naught.

“Daddy?”

Shouto blinks harshly to bring himself out of the vortex of his trepid thoughts, “Hey, love, what are you doing awake?”

Her teetering body scrambles into the room, pawing at the bedsheets as a broken sob parts her lips and shakes her chest. Shouto leans down to tuck his hands under her armpits, jolting her upward so she’s pressed into his chest. Her small hands grip onto the skin of his pectorals, thin fingernails scraping at his flesh. Shouto winces, but cradles her around the back regardless, the warmth of her heated cheek on his collarbone alarming.

“Did you have a bad dream?” he asks, soothing one of his hands through her hair while the other rests splayed against her back, dipping gently to try and ease her crying. She doesn’t answer, hiccupping cries making her whole body shake as she clutches onto him.

“Hey,” Shouto presses his lips to the crown of her head before coaxing her head backward. He tucks his thumb underneath her chin, “Talk to me.”

The little girl’s lower lip is wobbling, eyes doe-like and full of tears, thick white eyelashes dense with the little saltine droplets. She palms at Shouto’s face with one hand, seeming ancient when she whispers, “Why did they take mommy from me?”

And just like that, the glass box shatters.

Shouto feels the explosion, but maintains his composure regardless of the impact. Shards lodge into his throat and lungs, painful twinges jutting into his insides. His voice feels jagged when he speaks next, grating against his esophagus and tongue, “Sometimes the world just isn’t fair, love. I wish I had a better answer for you, but there’s not always a perfect explanation.”

Her bejeweled turquoise eyes behold him, thumbs against his mouth as she stares up at him. Glassy irises are blown wide by frightened pupils, “I miss her.”

She collapses back into him like a star shattering in the galaxy, explosive tears dripping down his chest as she tremors. The implosion of her life plays before him in the form of an empty half of the bed, a bare side of the bathroom, and a nightstand still left unembellished despite having been there for almost two years.

“I miss her too,” Shouto murmurs into the child’s silvery hair.

If he sheds a few silent tears of his own, she does not admonish him for it, instead laying quietly until her tears and shaking sobs have exhausted her tiny body. Her lips part and she begins to drool into the pocket of his collarbone, hands twitching against his chest.

A gentle melody vibrates Shouto’s lungs as he rolls himself to the side, carefully displacing her from his body to the empty half of the bed. The toddler grabs for him as soon as the warmth of his body disappears, and Shouto focuses all of his energy into regulating the warmth of his left side. He brushes his thumb over her cheek, pushing her silken hair from her mouth so it does not stick with her drool.

He chuckles, tucking her locks behind her ear, cupping her cheek with his warm palm, “Good night, Hana.”

The only acknowledgement he receives is a gentle snore that flares her nostrils and expands her chest, small body only looking tinier in the large expanse of the king-sized bed. Shouto lies there in wonder, his heated hand keeping in contact with her body until she halts her shivering.

How did I get so lucky? He thinks to himself, the threat of tears pressing intensely against the backs of his eyelids. He can’t close them, though, because he’s afraid he might miss a moment of his daughter’s sorrow.

Shouto leans forward to press a kiss to her furrowed brow, the familiar weight of his lips on her head giving her the comfort she needs to release the tension in her sleep. Her expression mellows, the crinkles in her forehead smoothing until she looks something akin to peaceful, ethereal.

The last thing Shouto sees before his mind succumbs to the lure of unconsciousness is her silvery hair glistening in the moonlight of the bedroom, her tiny palm wrapped around his index finger, clutching on like he were her lifeline.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I can handle this on my own.”

“This isn’t just another assignment. This is your daughter, Shouto.”

His nostrils flare, “Yeah, and?”

Fuyumi rolls her eyes, containing herself by taking a deep breath through the nose. Shouto’s eyes wander as Hana teeters around the kitchen with a few crayons and a plush rabbit.

“There’s no reason to keep yourself from admitting you need help, Shouto,” Fuyumi grits her teeth and attempts to appear somehow cheerful, even if just for Hana’s sake. She flexes her jaw, “This is an insanely large house, brother. You could use the extra hands.”

Shouto narrows his eyes, the scar over his left side appearing even more intimidating when his expression shifts, “You’re not moving in here, ‘Umi. I’ll figure something else out.”

His sister runs a hand through her hair, shaking her head as she turns her attention to the toddler bobbing her head to an invisible jukebox as she colors another page in her book. Fuyumi licks her lips, “Listen, will you at least call her? She’s great with kids, and she’s between jobs right now. It could at least turn into a short-term benefit for the both of you.”

After a moment of aggressive silence, Shouto nods. He decides, internally, that his agreement is purely out of the recognition that it will force his sister to let the topic rest.

“I’ll call her.”

“Thank you,” Fuyumi’s chest deflates, releasing a pent-up breath she had been holding in unexpectedly. She sifts her fingers through Hana’s hair, thumbing at her ear gingerly, “I know you hate that I loom over you like another mother, but I just want to make sure that you’re both taken care of.”

Shouto’s expression softens, eyes turning from jeweled beads to something more pliable. His chest tightens at her admission, the reality of their situation doing nothing to lighten the burden on his shoulders. He takes a step towards his sister, praying she can see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks, “I’ll be okay, ‘Umi. I promise.”

Fuyumi allows herself a moment to take in the sight of Shouto’s twenty-one month old child, watching as she scribbles her crayons onto the coloring book in front of her with as much precision as she can muster. A somber smile tugs on her lips and she sighs, closing her eyes as she readjusts her glasses, “I just worry about you, is all. Taking over a large agency is a lot of work, especially with the added pressure of being a good father.”

“I will be a good father,” Shouto is quick to refute her lofty accusations, the intensity of his voice causing Hana to turn her attention from her book to her father. He narrows his eyes at his sister, “I won’t turn out like dad.”

Holding her hands up in mock-surrender, Fuyumi takes a step back, “I know, Shouto. Trust me, I know.” Her eyes are wide and Shouto feels fear grip his spine like a cold shadow, curling up into him and suffocating his throat. He wants to gasp but he cannot show weakness, not now. Fuyumi inhales a short breath, “You’re the furthest thing from our father. Which is why I think you should seriously consider reaching out, getting another pair of hands on deck.”

Shouto considers her, tilting his head. The implications that his ability at caring for his daughter makes his chest constrict, heart aching in a way he’s never felt before. His eyes dart downward, catching on the silver hair of his child as she sits on the floor, grubby hands gripping at crayons while she smears color all over the pages of her book.

“I’ll call her,” he repeats his words from earlier. “I will.”

Fuyumi reaches out to take her brother into a hug, breathing her peaceful nature onto him like a ghost begging to infiltrate his body. Shouto takes a long drag, lips parted when he wraps his arms around his sister’s smaller frame.

As his sister is leaving, Hana’s eyes focus on the door. Todoroki can’t help himself wonder for a moment if she believes that someone else might come walking back across the threshold, if only she were to look at just the perfect moment. The sun shines on Fuyumi’s figure, forcing a silhouette onto the floorboards of the entryway. If he were to squint the right way, it’s possible he could see her outline there, darkness shaped by the light.

Shouto must bite the inside of his cheek to keep his mind still.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Later that evening, when Shouto has his daughter resting in the crook of his arm, an educational children’s program playing on the television for background noise, he pulls his phone from his pocket to sift through text messages and emails. There are dozens of alerts to sort through, but the one thing his fingers keep returning to is the sight of your contact information in a message forwarded to him by his sister.

If you are every as bit as wonderful and kind as Fuyumi says you are, then Shouto is frightened of what you are capable of, based on your resume and photograph alone.

Not only do you have a stunning personality – caring, gentle, organized – but you have a beautiful outward appearance as well. Shouto notices the curve of your lips, the structure of your jaw and cheeks, and the way your eyes lilt upward at the camera.

The one thing Shouto hates the most about himself, the very being engrained within him to emulate, is that he was brought up worrying about these different kinds of things – the anatomy of a potential candidate.

It’s the Todoroki within him, the lurking presence of his father threatening to stifle his breathing, to suffocate him until Enji is the only glowing ember left in his charred, desolate soul. Shouto sits in the dark, the looming reality that he may very well end up exactly like his father forcing him to press the little green button at the bottom of the screen.

You pick up on the second ring, “Hello?”

“H-Hi there,” Shouto’s voice sticks in his throat.

A gentle laugh from the other end of the line makes his heart stop beating within the confines of his chest, “What can I do for you?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Shouto has never been so worried about the interior design of his house before.

He realizes suddenly that there are no photographs on the walls, no pictures hanging to tell the sad tale of his life story. The recognition of this little detail only further throws him into a darkness he knows he won’t ever be able to fully crawl out of. Every day he must fight this beast, this unseen presence that sits on his shoulders, forcing him to carry the burden. He’s never wanted to tell his life story, not with the way it played out, especially not now.

Abusive father. Hospitalized mother. Deceased wife.

When the doorbell rings, he pulls himself from his stupor to step forward into the foyer. Shouto takes a deep breath and curls his toes into the rug to ground his body as he turns the doorknob. It’s as if the door stands for something much weightier, a distance currently built between you and him, something he can control.

But when the heavy door gives way to the sunshine outside, your body casting an elongated shadow on the hardwood, Shouto’s ankles lock and his fingers still against metal.

“Todoroki Shouto?”

The sound of your voice, completely unadulterated from the natural static of a phone, makes Shouto’s head spin. He nods, swallowing so hard his throat bobs, “Yes, please come in.”

You kick your shoes off as soon as you step across the threshold, tucking them to the side near the other pairs of dress shoes and sneakers accompanied by little ballerina slip-ons and tiny formal shoes. He notices the way your eyes linger on the pink ballerina slippers that aren’t really shoes at all, more like glorified socks, and he has to hold back a chuckle.

Shouto raises his hand in a greeting, kicking the door closed with his ankle as he turns to face you, “Thank you for meeting me.”

“I appreciate you interviewing me,” you answer him, reaching forward to meet his handshake. You’re grinning when he makes eye contact with you, cheeks round with your smile. “I know that your schedule is very hectic.”

Shouto can’t think about it too much or it makes his brain throb within his skull. He grits his teeth, “Yes, my assistant was able to push out a few other unimportant meetings for this. I do apologize, but my daughter is currently with my sister. I thought it may be best for us to meet first and then decide if it will be a good fit before we introduce her into the situation.”

“I can respect that.” You smile, wrapping your arms around your waist as you stand in front of him. The surprising warmth from his hand sits with you, palm tingling even as it’s tucked between your body. A nervous laugh parts your lips as your feet shuffle, “I wouldn’t want to get too attached to her if you didn’t like me.”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes darting to his toes, “Oh, it’s not you I would be afraid of being incompatible. Hana can be very picky.”

Your thumbs dig into your biceps, rolling your lips together as you consider your reply. A soft padding forward of your feet on the dense rug makes little sound, but still breaks Todoroki’s gaze from the floor.

“You’d be surprised,” your left eye dropping in a wink. “I have quite the effect on people. Especially those who stand three feet and shorter.”

He is shocked to find himself grinning at your jesting remark, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shuffles a step backward from you. You tilt your head, eyes washing over his tall frame, “I’ve been doing this a long time, Mr. Todoroki. Usually children are withdrawn from their caretakers because they fear we’re trying to replace someone more important in their lives.”

You are closer to him now as you stride across the tile. Todoroki feels his chest constrict when you speak, “I’m not here to be anything more than supplemental. You set the boundaries, Mr. Todoroki, and those are what I will abide by without a shadow of a doubt. I’m here to do as much or as little as you need of me.”

It takes him a moment to recuperate, faltering before he replies, “I appreciate that. I-I’ve never done this before. I wasn’t planning on it.”

Shouto notices the way you visibly shrink away from him, understanding the subliminal tones in his words. He holds a hand in the air, palm face-up, “No, that’s not, I just-”

A sigh parts his lips and he looks back down at his feet, but you’re careening forward to save the day before he can dig himself further into a hole he’s already drowning in. You chuckle, “I don’t think many people choose to have children only to set them into the hands of a nanny, Mr. Todoroki. You needed help, that much is clear, and I don’t blame you for reaching out. I think being able to push through your pride and do what is best for your child is not something you should be ashamed of.”

Oh yes, Todoroki thinks to himself with a smirk on his lips, hand outstretched towards you again, He’s going to like you just fine.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

You did not imagine your initial meeting with Todoroki Hana to go like this.

Shouto’s voice is mildly frantic on the other line, which is telling in it of itself. Even upon your first meeting, you knew that he was to be a mild-mannered, easy-going man. He does not seem to be a person who is easily upset by much, so the lilt in his voice is a clear indicator to his mood.

“It’s okay,” you try to remain calm in spite of his fear, praying that your clear head can help him to unwind. “I’m sure she’s fine, Mr. Todoroki. I’m already in the car, on the way to the daycare right now. I’ll go pick her up and call you as soon as I have my eyes on her.”

A breath is exhaled from the other end of the receiver, and you can imagine the way his chest deflates at your words. You smile to yourself, phone pressed to your ear as you drive down the highway, “It will only take me twenty minutes. Until then, try to keep yourself busy, okay?”

The two of you exchange pleasantries before you close your phone, slipping it back underneath your thigh before focusing on the road again. You were thankful that Shouto had already installed a car seat into back row, allowing you to go pick up Hana without having to do too much extra preparation.

Driving to the daycare facility takes eighteen minutes on one stretch of highway. You feel your palms sweat the entire way, recalling Todoroki’s words about Hana’s injuries she sustained on the playground not very long ago. The tremor in his voice sent a jolt down your spine, your bones rattling around in your body as you imagine the dozens of different cuts or gashes she might have on her body.

And then there’s the reality that this will be the first time you ever lay eyes on Todoroki Hana. It will be your reckoning day, the deciding moment of happenstance when she makes the choice of whether or not you are worthy of her acceptance.

You park and walk into the building, your eyes wavering over the entire intricate structure. It’s a formation of pillars and high roofing, accented with filigree of metal curved into beautiful shapes. The price point of this facility does not go over your head, given the marble pillars look genuine, smooth and rounded in all the right places. You run your fingertips over the cool stone as you walk to the thick, mahogany door. The doorknob is sparkling gold, as if someone polished it when they saw you park.

All the details wrapped into a pristine package ease your mind about the salary that Todoroki Shouto is paying you. Originally, you’d wanted to fight him on it, but you acquiesced into silence after taking note of his watch and the name brand of his suit jacket.

Your hand shoves at the front door, weighted and dense, and you step up to the front desk. Resting your forearms on the top of the divider, you smile down at her, “Hi, I’m here to pick up Todoroki Hana.”

It’s clear this woman has never seen you before by the way her eyes gawk over your appearance. You may not be dressed as pristinely as she might like, but you still look rather presentable, given the time restraints you were under to come pick up the young girl.

She tilts her head as if considering you like prey before grabbing up the phone on her desk, muttering a few words into the receiver. As she hangs up, she holds out a clipboard, “We’ll need a copy of your ID. Mr. Todoroki called ahead to let us know you’d be coming, but we’d just like confirmation. For Hana’s safety.”

It all makes sense, and is rather sound policy, but the curl of her lips when she says it forces a vat of acid into your stomach. You swallow your retort that is sitting on your tongue like a knife and gently take the board from her hand.

As you’re filling out the paperwork, the sound of little footsteps starts down the hallway. You tilt your head, pen stilled in your grip, awaiting what feels like your very own doomsday. This little almost two-year-old holds your fate in her tiny, grubby hands.

You stand and replace the clipboard onto the front desk, sliding your ID along with it. Turning your head, you await the arrival of your own two-foot-tall guillotine. You twist your hands together, knuckles wrung out white as you wait for Hana to approach the curve of the hallway and seal your fate. You know you should not be this anxious over a child who has just broken into real sneakers, but the rational part of you never wins out in these kinds of situations.

Todoroki Shouto is paying you something on the upside of expensive, offering you a generous starting bonus in addition to your typical pay so you could start working earlier than expected and still make your rent payments without worry. It would be a shame to lose that thick paycheck just because you could not win over a teetering toddler who probably babbles about princesses and the color purple most of the day.

“Hana, it looks like your-”

“Nanny,” you interject as you hear the voice echoing down the hall, attempting to avoid any confusion if possible. You brush your thighs free of any imaginary dust and crumbs so you can hide the shaking of your joints, “I work for Mr. Todoroki.”

When they finally round the corner, you stop breathing.

The little girl standing in front of you cannot be much over two feet tall, bright blue eyes shining as she drinks you in apprehensively. Her pupils shrink the closer she gets, bejeweled eyes swallowed by the inkiness. Her hands fidget at her sides while she stutter-steps towards you. The long locks of pale, silver hair reach midway down her back, the curled tips giving her an almost doll-like appearance with their perfection. Her full lips are drawn inward, tentative, much like her father.

And there, covering her right eye, a gauze bandage attempting to staunch and protect a wound.

You cannot help the way your eyes widen at the sight of her injured face, your hands ready to snag her up and race her to the nearest emergency room. Todoroki hadn’t told you the extent of her injuries, just that she had an accident on the playground, and someone needed to pick her up immediately.

“Hi Hana,” you squat down so you can appear to her at eye-level, an effort to put her at ease. “Your daddy heard you took a fall outside with your friends and he wanted me to come pick you up. Are you okay?”

She has obviously been crying, cheeks dark red and swollen, her visible eye puffy from tears. Your inner nature is telling you to reach out and comfort her, taking her by the hand and drawing her up into your arms to give her a gentle squeeze. But you know that there is a time and place and threshold for each form of affection, so you withdraw.

“How bad is it?” You turn your gaze upward, calves screaming as you shift your weight. You seek out the eyes of her teacher, trying to gauge your reaction based on her body language, “It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding too much now, and she’s rather calm. Was her eye directly injured?”

“No, it’s just around the orbital,” her teacher runs fingertips through Hana’s hair, “I don’t think she’ll need stitches, but she will definitely need this wound cleaned up by a professional. I know Mr. Todoroki has a nurse he usually calls.”

It’s as if these women are trying to suffocate you with their knowledge of Todoroki, almost like them knowing he has a nurse, or not knowing he’d hired you until today, would win them some sort of award or accolade. You try your best not to let your stomach turn at the sight of them, desperate and petty.

“Hana?”

She tilts her head up at you, another round of tears welling up in her eyelids. You wonder if it is from stress, pain, or a mixture of that and the uncomfortable feeling she can sense from the way you’re interacting with the daycare staff. She sniffles and wipes her face with the back of her forearm, careful of her injured eye, “Y-Yes ma’am?”

So Shouto has taught her manners.

You attempt to keep your composure at the sound of her tinny, trepid voice echoing out the words that are normally rare for even full-grown adults to use. In reaching out your hand, you notice she does not shrink away from you, not this time, “I think we ought to go have that nurse of your dad’s check out your eye, what do you think?”

There is silence for a moment, genuine concern evident in her sparkling irises. She blinks quickly, like she is trying to figure you out before she makes her decision in response to your question. You don’t want to clue her in to the fact that, at the end of the day, it’s not really her choice to make – that plight between staying here and going somewhere else has been completely left up to you.

“You know,” you’re whispering now, dramatically hiding your mouth behind the palm of your hand, pretending that that others standing around can’t hear you. “I think that I saw this cool ice cream shop on the way here. You think you could help me try a new flavor?”

This makes her eyes widen, pushing herself up on her tiptoes as she fails to contain her excitement at the suggestion of a sugary treat, “Wh-What flavor?”

You grin, warmth seeping into your chest as a giggle bubbles up in her throat, “I was thinking bubblegum, or maybe cotton candy?”

Hana’s nose scrunches at the suggestion, “No way!”

“Well,” you stand to your full height, hands on your hips as you pout, “what would you rather have then?”

She is full-on smiling now, cheeks drawn upward so her dimples can dip into her cheeks on either side, “I like mint w-with choco-chips in it!”

You hold your hand out again, praying that now, after divulging your favorite ice cream flavors, she won’t totally reject you. The last thing you want is for her to force your hand in making a decision to pick her up and take her out of the daycare.

Hana pushes herself up and down on her toes, biting her lip before bursting with a smile, “Y-You really mean it?! Ice cream?”

“I don’t see why not,” you shrug, wriggling your fingers as the other women watch on in amazement as your connection to the child. “I think you deserve it after that nasty fall you took.”

Bouncing towards you, Hana bobs into the air by pushing upward on the balls of her feet. She reaches out and snags your hand into her grip of her own accord, before beginning to tug you to the exit. She is babbling on about all of the ice cream flavors she’s tried, and what they taste like, and the last time she had ice cream was oh so long ago…

“See you later, ladies,” you wave over your shoulder, unable to hide the satisfied smirk making your mouth crooked, “I guess we’re going to get ice cream.”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

Hana knows how to buckle herself in, so she’s already clambering up into your car as soon as you have the door open. Her injury is completely forgotten as she bustles up into the seat, climbing in awkwardly before turning around to plop her backside into the curve of the cushions. Her fingers are frantic as she desperately tries to get the straps clicked together so you can be on your way to the nearest ice cream shop. You smile at her struggle, allowing her to settle with a pout before offering her your help.

“I-I can do it!” she insists, eyes misted. “I-I’m a big girl!”

“Oh, no doubt,” you shake your head in reassurance, pursing your lips as you hold your hands up in midair, palms facing her. “I’m just trying to help so we can get to our ice cream just a tad faster.”

Your reasoning seems to be sound, because Hana releases the offending buckle and puts her hands on either side of her car seat to give you enough room to maneuver and snap the contraption in place. Your hands make swift work of the buckles and straps, tightening them to the perfect spot on her chest and hips. She smiles up at you when you’re finished, expectant and excited.

It is strange, the intense desire to protect her that immediately washes over you at first sight. You have to stop yourself from rushing into allowing her between the cracks of your heart. You are frantic to seal them so you can let yourself down easy if this job ends up being as short-term as you’re worried of it becoming.

You pull away from her, face blank, and shut the door as Hana begins to fiddle with the remaining length of the straps around her body. Her fingers swirl around the black fabric and plastic, tugging and pulling, but not hard enough to adjust any of your hard work.

On your way to the parlor, you decide to call Shouto.

“Daddy!”

A relieved sigh sounds from the other end of the receiver, and you can’t help the warmth that blooms in your belly when you grin. Shouto coughs thickly, clearing his throat, “Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay!” Hana twirls her fingers in midair, watching around like Todoroki may appear out of thin air like his voice echoing in the car. “We’re going to get ice cream!”

“Ice cream?” his voice sounds slightly judgmental, but you try to push it off and pretend it means nothing. You spare a glance over your shoulder, “Tell him what flavor you’re getting, Hana.”

You pull into the drive through window of the ice cream shop, listening as Hana babbles on about the different flavors you two talked about and whether she’ll get a cone or a cup. You put the car in park as the person in front of you orders, swiveling your hips so you can look her in the eye, “I was actually thinking about a milkshake. How does that sound?”

“Ooh,” her eyes grow wider, chubby little hands curling into fists in her lap. She’s practically buzzing at just the thought of it all, “That sounds like fun!”

You chuckle, hand on the gearshift, “Oh, I meant to ask, have you already scheduled the nurse to be at the house? I wasn’t sure if you’d rather it be someone personal to look after her, or if you’d want me to take her to a general hospital.”

“I’ll call Masuyo and have her meet you at the house.” Todoroki’s voice is muffled as he turns to speak with someone else in his office, hand over the receiver. You hear him cough, voice tense, “S-She’s okay, though. Right?”

“I think she’s a strong girl,” you make your voice confident, straightening your spine, “she’ll be fine once we get her cleaned up. Right, Hana?”

You spare one final look at the little girl in the backseat, all bright eyes and buzzing fingertips. She’s already shuddering off of pure energy, and you wonder if sugar was really the best route to go down for her comfort. Either way, she nods her head, enthusiastic about what’s to come next.

“Yes!” She leans forward in her seat, getting closer to his voice, “I can’t wait until you get home, daddy. We’ll play prince and princess, right?”

You can sense the hesitation on Todoroki’s end and your heart turns to granite in your chest. When he speaks, you feel the weight of it settle in your belly, throat tightening.

“I’m not sure, love. I’ll have to see. It’s very busy this afternoon.”

Hana allows her expression to fall for a mere moment. You honestly would not have caught the change in her demeanor if it weren’t for you studying her as Shouto uttered the words. Every bit of enthusiasm that was previously holding her cheeks high is drained. Her face pales and her lips turn downward in a frown, eyes dropped to her hands as she fiddles with her knuckles in her lap.

And yet, almost as soon as she falters, her smile returns, albeit not enough to light up her eyes as it did before. It’s like she is reconstructing a mask that she feels pressured to wear in order to keep her father satiated and undisturbed.

“Oh, that’s okay, daddy,” Hana’s voice is as cheerful as her little strong will can force it to be. She attempts to be dismissive as she waves her hands, despite Shouto unable to see her, “I played princess at school anyway.”

Your heart continues to crack as she says her final line, “I love you, Daddy.”

Shouto exhales, voice breathy when he repeats the sentiment, “I love you more.”

“I love you most.” Hana’s tone lilts then, a crack in her metaphorical armor at his affections despite his absence. She swipes at her face and you wonder if she was crying, because you certainly didn’t see any tears.

Your throat grows thick with emotion, making it difficult for you to tell him goodbye. You roll down your window and rattle off your order, trying to keep a close watch out of the corner of your eye to monitor Hana’s mood and expressions as the moments progress. You feel horrible for intruding on their very personal, private moment, and it only makes your heart wrench more when you see Hana’s glazed eyes unable to focus on one thing in particular. She’s docile, void of emotion as she stares out of the window, watching clouds pass as the world grows darker with the threat of a sunset on the horizon.

You settle the milkshakes into the front seat, finishing up at the drive through window before rolling forward into a vacant parking space. With your foot still on the break, you reach back to hand Hana the small milkshake cup with the straw already pushed through the opening on the lid, “There you go.”

She takes it from you gingerly, small palms wrapping around as much of the cup circumference as she possibly can. Her lips are pouted just enough that you wonder if she’ll take a sip at all. You busy yourself, pretending to clean up trash in the front seat and maneuver things around on the floorboards, waiting on her first drag from the ice cream cup.

But it never comes.

After five minutes of waiting, you press your hand to the passenger’s side headrest and look her in the eye – as much of her pupils that you can catch in spite of her hooded lids. Hana is still dazed, looking into her milkshake cup as if it might have the answers to all of her life’s confusing questions.

“Hana?” Your voice calls her from whatever lull she was in, eyes blinking slow as she connects back to this version of reality. A vague, “Yes?” is uttered from her lips, but she isn’t focused, not just yet. You brush your hand against the top of her knee, quick and gentle, and it does the trick. She blinks one final time before her pupils dilate back to their usual size, gaze settled clearly on your face.

“Did something upset you?” you ask, your hand wrung around the headrest again. “Or do you just not want your milkshake?”

“I dunno,” Hana admits quickly, eyes downturned once she realizes she’s let the emotion slip from her voice. It makes the edges of her words raw and ragged, “I guess I just don’ wan’ it anymore.”

You are persistent; your job is to make her happy and keep her safe, and right now with a milkshake melting in her lap, part of you feels like you’re failing.

“Was it what your dad said?” Your question is asked in a low tone, something you’re trying to use to convey that you are being patient and kind. You take a chance and rest your palm against the car seat armrest, close enough to make contact but not adjacent enough to infringe upon her personal space. You swallow thickly, taking a short breath, “About not being home to play?”

Hana is pinching the straw between her fingers, looking into the little opening as it closes with the squeeze of her fingers. You wonder if she does this often, with tangible objects. Does she ache to control something so much so that she becomes lost in the euphoria of it all?

She sighs, kicking her feet, “Daddy is just always working. It makes me sad sometimes.”

You aren’t sure how to respond, not really. If you had known her for longer, or met Todoroki some other way, you could likely refute her statement. However, there’s truth in what she’s saying, a vulnerability that you weren’t sure you would see from the child so soon.

When she speaks next, Hana reminds you of a full-grown woman, attempting to redirect the conversation from something personal to something vague, “What’id you get?”

Her voice sounds like an echo of her true self, nothing like the way her tone lilted when she first spoke with her father. There is a seemingly eerie mask she has perfected, something both audible and emotional. And it would appear she knows just how to slip it on and off when the time is right, despite her young age.

Then and there you choose to burden yourself with the purpose of breaking her out of her glass box of entrapment.

“I got cookie dough,” you say as you take an over-dramatic sip, crossing your eyes at the sensation of cool ice cream flowing down your throat, “What did you get?”

Her face scrunches inward, nose wrinkling at the bridge, “Y-You know what I got, don’ you? You ordered it for me!”

You make an exaggerated face of confusion, tilting your head backward and tapping your fingertip against your chin. “Hmm,” you nod, agreeing with her accusation, “I guess you’re right, huh?”

“You’re silly,” Hana giggles before going in for her first sip of her milkshake. Her eyes are narrowed downward at the cup, hands cradling it carefully as if it were the most important thing in the world and she might be in danger of spilling it at any moment. Her eyes are wide, doe-like in nature, as she comes up for air, “This is good!”

“Great,” you answer her, switching the gearshift back into drive so you can pull out of the parking lot and out onto the highway to head back to their house.

The remainder of the drive back to the Todoroki residence is spent in moderate silence, gentle music playing on the radio as Hana preoccupies herself with licking every last drop of her milkshake from the straw. She sucks the mint chocolate chip ice cream from her thumb and looks up at you when you park the car in the driveway, “We’re home?”

You unbuckle yourself from your seat and answer her, hopping down from the car to open her door. She’s already working at her buckles, undone the top half, but still struggling with the bottom. By the time you’ve gotten her undone from the chair, she trusts you enough to reach out her arms and ask for you to help her down to the ground so she does not have to clamber down and risk falling onto the concrete.

When the soles of her shoes hit the concrete, she’s reaching up for you, grabbing you around your fingertips to hold on as she walks. You squeeze her hand gently, fishing the keys out with one hand to unlock the door.

The nurse is already inside, set up on the couch. Hana runs straight to her, plopping herself unceremoniously down on the furniture, hand hovering over the patch as she talks with Masuyo about her ice cream experience from just moments ago.

You busy yourself with dinner, prepping meat and vegetables, as Masuyo starts to clean and treat Hana’s wound. It’s another thirty minutes before you start to sear meat on the stovetop when you hear the garage door rattle open unexpectedly. Todoroki shouldn’t be home until later this evening, he texted you after you’d been in line for ice cream to tell you as such.

And yet, when the door opens to reveal his familiar frame, you can’t help the way your jaw unhinges.

“You’re home early,” you mention, flipping the steak pieces in the pan to sear the other side. “Everything okay?”

Todoroki is stunned by how grossly domestic the sight of you in his kitchen is and he’s jarred back into his prior lifetime where he had the full family package. He blinks and takes a short breath, forcing himself away from the swirling blackhole of the past to smile at you, “Yes, well. I decided that my daughter’s health was more important than some paperwork. I had a few of the first-years handle it.”

That is how it starts. Your first day as the new nanny of the Todoroki household.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Are you sure you got the right color plates?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the cake?”

“Ordered it three weeks ago.”

“How about the-”

“Shouto.”

He turns to look you in the eyes, breath frantic, “What?”

You can’t help but laugh at the wide-eyed expression he wears, all of his emotions blatantly displayed on his face. You take a step toward him, reaching out to cup his elbow, “I’ve got it all handled, okay? Her birthday party isn’t for another week, Shouto. Are you ready for the zoo?”

Todoroki hesitates, gritting his teeth together so harshly that you can see the muscles in his jaw quiver. He turns his palm to press flat against your forearm, heterochromatic gaze seeking you out for some sort of comfort, “Did you need me to pack the bag?”

“No,” you chuckle, forcing yourself to remove your body from his grasp by walking back to the sink to finish up the load of dirty dishes you wanted to get into the wash before you left. You tilt your head to look across the bar at him, “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

Hana comes careening down the hallway, a doll in either hand, her pajamas still crooked on her body. She giggles, bouncing on the balls of her feet before launching herself forward to latch around Todoroki’s calf like an animal, “Daddy!”

Shouto bends at the waist to pluck her up, hands careful under her armpits when he tucks her into his side, “Yes, love, I’m going to the zoo. But it looks like you need a change of clothes.”

“I already laid some out on her dresser,” you pipe up from behind the sink, “but you’ll need to spray her down with sunscreen first, it’s not very cloudy outside today.”

As Shouto turns to walk Hana back to her room, you allow your gaze to linger a moment longer than the ordinary. Ever since you first took this job, you could note Todoroki’s beautifully carved body and stellar facial features. He is built perfectly for the type of Pro Hero that he is – thick muscles wrapped around dense bones, and yet still a relatively lean frame to hold it all into place. Shouto’s face is cut sharp at the jawline, cheekbones stark against his skin. You are sure to admire him whenever you can.

When you hear him and his daughter talking, sharing words and laughs, it only adds to the flame that burns in your belly at the thought of Todoroki Shouto.

There is no doubt in your mind that it is improper to feel the way you do about a client. They should be nothing more than a paycheck and a steppingstone, and yet somehow you have found a way to allow Shouto to wind his pristine claws into you. He’s got you by the heart and it has only been a few months.

You force your hands to work at the dishes, cleaning what remains so you can start the dishwasher. After you’re done, you make your way upstairs towards Hana’s room, where you hear various grunting noises.

A laugh threatens to part your lips and give away your spying secret when you notice Shouto frantically trying to pull the shirt you picked out over the top of Hana’s head. Her arms are stuck in the wrong spots and you can already tell that it’s somehow inside out, but none of that pushes you to step forward and take over.

It’s only when Hana spots you spying in the doorway that you’re coerced into treading into her bedroom. She pouts and Todoroki doesn’t look much happier. He chuckles, “I swear I’m better at this than I look.”

“Oh, I know you’re helpless,” you smirk across at him, squatting in front of Hana to help untangle her from the clothes and put her back in right side up. Her little hands grab for your face, squeezing your cheeks as she surges forward to kiss your nose, “Daddy is helpless, isn’t he?”

You are too busy fussing over Hana’s hair to notice the way that Todoroki drinks you in like he has been parched for years. He cannot stop himself from memorizing the color of your irises, the slope of your nose, the bow of your lips.

The reality that he could even be attracted to you is lost on him – he swore after his wife died that he would never find another woman to replace her. You have only been here a few short weeks and he’s already begun to question his earlier statement.

It’s just the way she is with Hana, he tries to convince himself. I am kidding myself into believing she’s here for us, not just because it’s a job.

And yet, when his gaze connects to yours, Hana babbling about lions and tigers as you slather her down with sunscreen, Todoroki swears that he feels something different.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The day of Hana’s party comes quicker than expected.

You’re frantically spinning around, making sure there is enough food and drink for everyone in addition to trying to keep an eye on the children as they play around on the various structures setup outside.

A group of moms gather at the bar, one of them urging the others to look at you with a sinister lilt in their gaze. You continue to serve everyone at the party, filling drinks, bringing new plates of food, and yet their eyes never waver from you.

When you are cleaning up some stray garbage in the kitchen, the blonde woman near the end of the bar perks up, “Excuse me, nanny, would you mind filling my glass?”

It is like the floodgates have opened, and now they are all asking you for favors. You swallow your pride and do as they say whether that’s food or drink or a new napkin or even cleaning up their garbage. They are all gossiping behind their hands, palms raised to their mouths as if that will do anything to staunch the flow of the conversation, or even make it more difficult for you to hear the way they speak of you.

Your pride takes each hit in stride, attempting to roll the insults off your shoulders while you tend to them kindly. It takes Shouto stepping into the kitchen for your face to falter.

You gaze across the room at him and your strong façade falls away, hands shaking by your sides as you look at the floor in shame. You swallow your self-importance and build your walls back to their full height before looking up at him once more.

Todoroki is fuming, to put it nicely.

His hands are curled into fists, knuckles white and cheeks hot at the sight of your unease. He takes a few strides forward, features softening as he reaches out to press his fingertips into the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His breath is warm, spilling down your spine like molten lava, pooling the heat in your belly and turning your insides to mush. The expanse of his palm splays against your back, the plane of his chest flush with your arm when he stands too close.

You take a short breath, unable to get enough oxygen with him crowding your space like this. It is like he’s thinning the air within a few feet of his body, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’m fine,” your voice is high and thick, nostrils flaring when you make eye contact with one of the women at the bar. She is smirking proudly, head tilted so she can look down her nose at you. You swallow the shards of emotion sticking in your throat and look up at Todoroki, confused at the fury held in his irises, darkening them both so they look almost the same color as his pupils.

He turns and you watch in slow motion as his jaw hinges open, anxiety gripping your throat tightly. Your body moves before your mind can catch up; you shift your feet, so your hips are in front of him, hands palming against his pectorals to bring his attention down to you.

You tug on the fabric of his shirt, breathlessly calling to him, “Shouto.”

Todoroki turns his eyes downward, jawline quivering just enough for you to see at this close of an angle. He is intoxicating, the combination of his cologne and his body heat sending your mind spinning. You lick your lips and his eyes track the motion, turning butterflies over in your belly, their gentle wings brushing the insides of your body delicately, enough to tickle.

“Shouto,” you mumble his name again. “S’okay, alright?”

The sound of barstools scraping the floor signifies the judgmental women taking their leave, and your chest deflates at the change in atmosphere. Your hands go slack against Shouto’s chest, head falling forward to rest against his collarbone.

When his hands brush your hips, you snap your eyes upward, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle to meet his gaze. Shouto grinds his teeth together before speaking, “I’m sorry they were bossing you around. You’re not here to take care of them.”

“It’s okay, really,” you pat your hand on his chest as if solidifying your statement, smiling enough to sell it.  

His thumb grazes the hem of your shirt, fingertip slipping beneath the fabric to brush against your skin. Your breath hitches and every instinct within you tells you to push yourself up on your toes and grab his shirt in your tight fists, but when you’re eye-to-eye with him, you wish you wouldn’t have listened.

You can feel his stuttering breath on the bow of your lip, and it makes your shoulders quiver. Your name is whispered between his teeth and suddenly he is too close, so close that you’re intoxicated, and every inhibition of yours has been forgotten like dust in the wind.

“Daddy!”

The sound of her voice breaks you apart, stumbling like teenagers caught underneath the bleachers. Todoroki turns to Hana, tending to her face with a napkin and listening to her sugar-driven babbling. You take the moment to slip past them and back to the outdoor area where everyone is gathered.

For the remainder of the night, you feel Todoroki’s eyes on you, following your movements as you maneuver throughout the guests, offering them refills and to take their garbage. He cannot help but feel the heat incinerating his body from all sides, not just his left. The sensation is strange, the ice on his right side usually taking over any and all feeling he might have.

It feels foreign, but not unpleasant. Todoroki’s neck prickles at the impending awareness that he might be in for a crude awakening soon.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The next few months are a breeze.

Until they are not.

Todoroki has begun to spend more time at work and less at home with each passing day. The threat of his job creeping over him like a looming dark shadow, slowly engulfing him inch by inch until he is surrounded entirely. He spends his days fighting crime, and nights doing paperwork.

You are slowly starting to spend more and more time at the Todoroki house – you are now expected to arrive around five in the morning, and sometimes you do not leave until nine in the evening. It is exhausting, given your drive back to your apartment is a half-hour on a good day with little traffic.

Somehow, you have been able to keep Hana satiated, even without her father around. There are fleeting moments where her cheery expression falters and she sheds a few tears, but you are there to wrap her up in your arms and let her cry until she has nothing left. And then, after she’s dried her face on your shirt, she looks up at you with those beautiful blue eyes and begs you to play princess.

One night, when you are half asleep on the couch with Hana curled into your arms, you feel a palm press to your shoulder, “I’m home.”

You blink blearily, a short jolt of breath stinging your lungs. You swallow and look to the right of you where Todoroki is squatted beside you. He is smiling; you can tell, even in the darkness.

“Hey,” you whisper, careful to cradle Hana’s head as you sit up. “Sorry, it’s been an eventful day.”

Shouto shakes his head and helps you to your feet, palms finding any juncture of you that he can use to support your body. His hand is against your elbow when he speaks next, “No, I’m sorry. I should have been home hours ago. I know you were making dinner.”

“I make dinner every night,” a laugh parts your lips and you run your fingers through Hana’s hair to try and keep her asleep despite the noise. “So, it’s nothing new, Todoroki. Let me go put her down and I’ll head out.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but his jaw snaps shut before he can let out whatever secret he is harboring. You disregard it, walking upstairs to tuck Hana in for bed. She stirs but does not wake entirely and you are thankful. The day has already been tumultuous enough without having to sing her back to sleep or stay up any longer.

As you are walking down the steps, you’re surprised to find Shouto pacing in the hallway, his thumb pinching his chin and his brow furrowed harshly. He looks rather intensely conflicted, and there is a moment where you’re worried, he may decide to fire you. Could you have done something wrong with Hana? Did she not like you? Was he upset that you let her have chocolate before noon the other day?

“Shouto?” you call, padding forward, toes sifting through the carpet. “Is everything okay?”

Another yawn splits your lips and you cover it with your palm, apologizing through your teeth. He shakes his head and steps toward you with a palm outstretched, “Yes, everything is fine. I just have something I’d like to ask you.”

You tilt your head and it reminds him of a curious animal, sniffing him out for food in the form of information. Your hand rests on his bicep and it is dizzying to be this close to you, even after several months of working alongside you. His head still spins when you are too close.

“I was wondering if you might consider moving in.”

You blink dumbly, mouth parted so he can see the pad of your tongue and the tips of your canine teeth. Your fingertips graze against his arm and you feel like lightning is sparking at the cusp of your touch.

The reality is this is not far from normal – most full-time nannies do end up living with their families. It makes everything easier and cheaper. If you live there, he does not have to pay you for drive time, and your boarding costs can be directly deducted from your standard paycheck. This option is what makes the most sense, but you are not focused on sense right now.

All you can see is his bare torso.

You are imagining accidentally walking in on him after he’s taken a shower, or him stumbling in after his morning runs with his tiny running shorts and shirtless upper half. Your tongue goes dry at the thought of it all, but you force yourself to push words past your lips, so you won’t look like a dead fish.

“That’s a pretty permanent decision, Shouto.” Your words hold weight and he knows it, he’s thought this through a dozen different ways to Sunday. You swallow and when your hands brush over his skin, he swears sparks light beneath your fingertips; it makes his arm numb. “I don’t mind, but I just want to make sure that you’ve really thought this through.”

He nods, stepping closer so he’s almost flush with you now, “I feel awful having you drive so early and so late. Your hours would not change, your responsibilities wouldn’t change. You would have your own room and privacy, and I don’t expect to lessen your pay just because you live here. It’s just-”

“Shouto,” you’re laughing now, shaking your head as you look down at your toes, “I don’t expect everything to stay the same if I move in. I’m prepared, are you?”

Truly, he’s thought about that question far too much in the passing days when he sees you around the house or speaks with you on the phone during the day. The idea that you will be here every hour of every day is suffocating, but in a way that makes him want to drown. As time moves faster, Shouto realizes that you have become a second nature in his house. He is thinking of you during his office meetings and the late nights on patrol.

He cannot be honest with the true reason he is asking you to move in, because then he would have to face his emotions and he’s not ready for that yet. And yet, his body betrays his mind as he reaches forward to brush his thumb over your cheek, “I think I can handle it.”

Emotion swells like a blooming heat between the two of you, your bodies almost entirely pressed up against one another as your voices grow softer. You are not sure if it’s the sleep-muddled brain you’re working off of, but you swear that you see his eyes drop to your lips. There is some part of you that wants to fall into him, to let him take you and burn you and leave you for dead, but the rest of you is working off of sense and logic and you know that would never work.

“Well,” your voice shatters the fragile moment, “I guess I better get home and start packing.”

Shouto releases you and something shifts in his irises, but it is gone as soon as it appears, and you don’t have enough time to discern the emotion. You pluck up your bag and slip on your shoes, turning to wave at him over your shoulder as you step past the threshold and back to the garage.

As you start your car, you rest your forehead on the steering wheel before you pull out, and murmur to yourself in utter chagrin, “What have I just agreed to?”

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“I’m telling you - Red Riot is going to give you a run for your money.”

“That blockhead?” Shouto chuckles, swirling his glass, “I doubt it.”

You tilt your head, “And what about Ground Zero? He’s got his own agency now, doesn’t he?”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “God, can we please leave Bakugou out of this conversation?”

Another swig of the rum and coke slides down your throat, burning in the best way. Your head feels hazy, but you don’t mind, taking advantage of Hana’s early bedtime for the first time in a few weeks. You push your mostly empty glass towards him, “Bartender?”

Todoroki smiles, tipping the bottle downward to refill your glass. You grab the soda off the countertop and fill it to the brim, swirling the mixture with your straw. Another gulp of the liquid has you asking, “You and the other big players all went to Yuuei together, right? Ground Zero, Deku, Red Riot?”

Shouto nods, “Yes, we did.”

“Wow, to have gone to Yuuei,” you whisper in wonder, eyes heavy as you look down into the dark liquid fizzing in your glass.

He leans forward on the counter, body close to you as he asks his obvious question, “You don’t have a quirk, do you?”

“No,” your answer is quick, curt. You swallow thickly, shards of shame sticking in your throat. “I was born without one. You’ve seen my shoes.”

You are referring to the wider shoes that those with no quirk have to wear thanks to the extra joint in their pinkie toes. You lift your foot up in the air for good measure, painted toenails catching the light just right as you wriggle your toes around dramatically. You sigh, “I didn’t fully know who you were when I took this job. It’s kind of embarrassing that I don’t have a quirk, and you’re some superhero saving people with ice and fire.”

Shouto holds out his left palm, face up, and ignites a small flame, “I hated this side of my body for so long. It comes with a burden I’m glad you do not have to bear.”

The weight in his voice entices your eyes upward, connecting with his gaze as the heat blossoms, sucking the oxygen out of the air. Shouto curls his fingers inward and cuts the flame short, a gentle wisp of smoke floating from his palm.

“What does it feel like?” you find yourself asking, the alcohol creating a dull buzz behind your eyes that latches onto all of your inhibitions and immediately tosses them away.

His breath hitches audibly, pupils dilating as he attempts to focus on something other than the way your lips bow when you speak. Shouto steps forward, hands gentle as he cups your cheeks, a bravery he did not know he could muster bolstering his movements. His fingertips tickle your skin and it’s difficult for you to keep your eyes open when he is holding you so tenderly.

Shouto closes his eyes in concentration, taking a deep breath before narrowing his concentration onto the pores of his hands. His palms are flush with your skin and you let your mind wander while he is working up his quirk.

How would his touch compare to different parts of your body?

Your eyes slip shut at the thought, biting your lip as your mind runs rampant. The heat curling in your belly reminds you of his quirk – burning and licking at your belly like a raging flame. You only wish you had his right side to cool you down from the inside out.

Slowly but surely, you feel the right side of your face grow warm while the left side has started to chill. Your eyes go wide, and you circle your fingers around his wrists, voice breathy when you speak, “Wow, Shouto, that’s amazing!”

Your voice goes quiet and it is like the world stops spinning when he opens his eyelids to look down at you. You feel frozen in your spot, but you know it isn’t his quirk affecting you. Your grip tightens but he doesn’t seem to notice, his eyesight directed to your lips, zeroed in on the way that you gnaw at them when you’re nervous.

The tension is like a rubber band begging to snap. You feel the coil twirl around your spine, bunching you together and screaming at you to run away. There are a thousand different reasons why getting too close is dangerous, but your wanton body cannot be bothered to list them. Instead you are pushing yourself up in your seat, so your back is arched toward him, chest brushing his pectorals.

Shouto reminds you of something innocent when his mouth parts and irises glimmer beneath half-hooded lids. You feel distinctly profligate for envisaging his mouth on other parts of your body, the pink of his tongue peeking from behind pearly teeth doing little to quell your thoughts. You swallow thickly and shudder as his hand that produces cold shifts into your hair, rustling through the tresses at the nape of your neck.

Your hands are suddenly wrapped up in the fabric of his shirt, fisting the soft material, and you are pulling him towards you. Even so, it is Shouto who tilts your head upward, heels of his palms gently angling you by the cheeks.

The two of you take a breath before devouring one another whole.

His mouth tastes like whiskey, sharp and biting, but his tongue is in stark contrast to the flavor. He is gentle while still taking over your every sense. His tongue maps out the curves of your teeth and the pad of your tongue while his chilled palm keeps your skin from searing with blush.

The tenderness with which he holds onto you makes your heart rattle around within the cage you have built just for him. You knew this entire time that if he were to wriggle his way in, to touch your heart in just the right spot, you would crumble beneath his ministrations. This entire time you’ve been beholden to him, despite the utter denial you’ve been bathing in to hide the confession.

“Todoroki, I-”

Your voice is cut off by a blazing hand drifting beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers dipping against your spine, “I hate it when you call me that.”

Your eyes go wide but he’s enraptured you with another kiss square on the lips. Your words fall into the confines of his throat, never to be heard again as he swallows them into silence.

Hands are everywhere, so much so that you can’t tell where you begin and he ends.

Shouto nips your lip and you gasp, your hips canting forward of their own accord. Your mouth is gaping, begging for air, and he gives in to your silent request, drifting his lips downward to your jawline. He mutters a string of curse words as your hands finally make their way to his hair and shoulders, digging into him like he might float away.

He hums against your collarbone, teeth bared as he licks and nips at your skin. The alcohol in your bloodstream mixed with his essence in your veins only spins your mind into overdrive, dizzying you to the point that your eyes cross. You whine as he bites kisses into your skin, fingernails dug sharply into the skin of his back through his shirt. There will most likely be little crescent moon imprints when you release.

The trail of his kisses loops back up the column of your throat, teeth grazing your jaw as he works his way to your mouth again. You whine into his lips when his frozen fingers stroke your bare skin beneath your top, “Shouto, please-”

Todoroki’s confidence grows when he hears you moan his name into the air, begging him with only a few syllables. He disconnects his mouth from yours to look you in the eyes, “God, you’re so damn pretty, y’know?”

Your mouth hangs open and Todoroki must hold himself back from slipping his thumb between your parted, full lips. A shuddering breath passes between the two of you, time frozen as the moment sits still. It allows the both of you to agonize over one another, taking in each and every wanton feature as you beg quietly.

“So pretty,” he whispers before digging his hands into your backside and tugging you forward so you wrap yourself around him. His mouth is on you in a flash, all teeth and tongue pulling and prodding at you in a divine way you’re sure only he has mastered.

You are enraptured by him, fully captivated with his dual-ended quirk sending your body into a haze. Your mind is bewildered, thrown into a twirl of rum and Todoroki. If he were to give you a moment to catch your breath, you might be able to find it within your resolve to push him off you, to tell him how wrong this is. And yet, with his tongue tangled in your teeth, you can’t force the word no out of your throat.

Instead it is just his name.

Todoroki picks you up to deposit you on the countertop, thumbs digging into your hips to help you settle. His fingers make quick work of your top, slipping beneath them hem to graze over the swell of your breast on the underside. You whimper at the ghost of his touch, trying to angle your arms so you can tug at the band of his sweats.

When he realizes what you are fumbling with, he uses the bottoms of his feet to tug his pants down to his ankles. He steps out of them, but you can’t focus on anything other than the prominent bulge strained against his dark briefs. You have to swallow the drool accumulating in the center of your mouth, threatening to pool over the corners of your lips if you were to speak.

Before he tugs your shirt over your head, he looks into your eyes, sincerity cutting through the lust clouding his irises, “Last chance.”

He is giving you an out. One last clear path to purity.

You hesitate for a moment and his hands curl tighter around the hem of your top, restraining himself from ripping it away like an animal. His jaw is quivering as he waits on your response, nostrils flaring when you do not answer right away.

Whether it is the alcohol or the need talking, you are the conduit for the words spoken next, “Fuck me, Shouto. Now.”

Your shirt is yanked over your head unceremoniously, but you don’t care. Your eyes are wandering, begging for him to be nearly as naked as you. You don’t have to ask, because he’s already stepping away from you to remove the offensive piece of clothing, baring his body to you.

You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, especially upon moving into the Todoroki residence. He goes on shirtless jogs and sometimes does not wear anything on his torso for a while after he’s showered. There are days he has hardly anything remaining of his costume, after a particularly rough villain or training session.

And yet, this time it feels different.

He is baring himself for you. The intimacy of the moment does little to dull the ache in your mind, the strain of your heart in your ribs. You know that if he were to show you much more openness, you may have bruises beneath your skin from the way your heart threatens to beat at such a quick, tumultuous pace.

Shouto wastes little time in lurching forward to palm at your breasts, mouth too busy with your lips to pay attention to much else. You hitch your thigh between his hips, the curve of your leg brushing into his clothed cock. He grunts into the trap of your teeth, brow tugged with focus as he ruts his hips upward into you. You’re sure to put pressure back against him, the tip of his cock bulging on your thigh.

“Sho’,” you whimper when his mouth drifts from your lips to your neck. Your hands find his hair and his shoulder, eyelids fluttering halfway closed while he licks and nips at your thin, sensitive skin. Your throat burns, flesh aching as he starts to bite into you, rolling the skin between his teeth slowly, agonizing your very core.

A fresh wave of arousal coats the inside of your walls, and you know it is stained your panties, but you don’t have enough dignity to care. All that is on your mind is how he can take you on the countertop, and if you’ll be able to keep quiet enough not to wake the sleeping girl up the flight of stairs.

“Shit,” he’s cursing when your hand finds his bulge, “sweetheart, I-”

His breath is stuttered over your collarbone as you begin to palm him through his briefs. The nickname tumbling from his lips in a moan turns your stomach, effervescent champagne bubbles drifting up from your belly until they are suffocating your lungs. You gasp to relieve yourself of the pent-up anticipation as his left hand reaches the button of your shorts.

Shouto is careful as he unbuttons your pants, slipping the coarse fabric of your jeans down your thighs. As he squats down to help you out of them, all you can think of is what might happen if you were to grab him by the hair and force his mouth to your cunt.

Almost like he was reading your mind, he leans forward after he’s tossed your jeans to the other side of the kitchen floor and his mouth ghosts over your core. Your lower lip wobbles and you must bite your tongue to keep your mewling cries from tumbling out in excess. Todoroki kisses the top of your thigh, nose nudging over the edge of your lace underwear, his eyes closed so you cannot make out the expression settled in his ordinarily stoic irises.

“If you smell this good, I can only imagine how wonderful you taste,” Todoroki smirks against your skin, tilting his head so he can look up at you from his crouched position.

Your hips cant forward at the sentence, pussy already dripping just from the timbre of his deep voice. The vibrations of his word are like shockwaves straight to your core and you want to beg him to give you something, even a teasing lick over the center of your underwear.

Shouto kisses the little bow at the center of your panties, smiling as he snags the accent between the bite of his teeth and uses it to tug your underwear down your thighs. Your muscles tense, his ministrations slow and tantalizing. He chuckles and the sound shoots through your bones as if they were hollow like a feather, the warm honey of his laughter seeping slowly into your every pore and breaking down what remains of your resolve.

You have to cover your mouth with your hands when you yelp at the pad of his thumb brushing back the hood of your clit. His cool palm finds your thigh, just below the curve of your ass, and he stabilizes you with a firm grip, “Sit still, Princess.”

The authoritative tone of his voice turns your spine rigid, eyes facing the wall as he butterflies your pussy so he can see the silvery strands of slick built up between your layers of skin. He licks his lips and you feel the threatening heat of his tongue near your clit and you’re squirming. You are white knuckling the countertop, jaw under immense pressure as you clamp your teeth harshly.

He does not give you warning before delving his tongue between your folds, licking up your accumulated slick with one slow movement. His glittering grey iris tries to find your face, but the only thing he can make out is the line of your jaw and chin as your head is thrown back. Shouto chuckles before starting to explore the glutenous walls of your cunt with his tongue, his one hand still pressed into your thigh, fingers digging so hard that you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow morning.

Your body responds to him quickly, hips canting forward to buck against his mouth, begging for something more than just the quick slithering of his tongue in and out of you. In retaliation, Shouto presses his tongue flat, creating the illusion that it is thicker than before. You keen when he turns the pad of his thumb near your clit, close but not near enough.

“Sho’, please,” you pant, sweat beginning to bead up on your temples from the anticipation alone.

His cocky smirk is something you can sense when he speaks, but even further, you can feel it as he continues to lavish your pussy with his tongue. He huffs before standing to his feet, your slick mixed with his saliva giving his mouth a dangerous glint in the lowlight of the kitchen.

Shouto licks his lips as he steps closer to you again, bodies flush with one another. The hand that you know could burn you in an instant drifts down your side towards your pussy and you feel every muscle in your body clench at the thought of what kind of damage he could do to you if he tried.

Oh, and you’d let him.

You are about to beg him again, wanton moans vibrating your throat, but he intercepts you before you can lower your inhibitions any further. Shouto’s elongated middle finger slips just between your folds, using his saliva and your slick to lubricate his digit as he begins to pump up into you.

Todoroki Shouto is by no means a small man.

However, he is not so muscular that it looks like he is uncomfortable whenever he is walking. He is lean but built, which means that even though his hands are thick with muscle, they are not painful when pressed into your tight heat. Rather, they are snug and comfortable, his knuckle providing a pleasure you’ve not experienced before.

The tip of his finger brushes the spongy spot at the base of your core, and you swear you feel him in your spine. Shouto leans forward kiss you and you receive him quickly, desperate for some sort of tactile relief. He’s grinning into your lips, but you do not care so long as you find some reprieve from the coil beginning to twist within your stomach.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Todoroki whispers into your teeth as his tongue licks against your gums.

At his comment, you clench your cunt around his fingers, tightening your hold only to see how he will react. His hand stills for a moment, but then he is pushing another finger to accompany the first, splitting your cunt open despite the vice-like grip you have on his knuckle. He pumps until the base of his digits are finding the heat of your pussy, his fingerprints searing into your walls as you attempt to stay clamped around him.

Your legs begin to shake from the way you are holding yourself up on your toes, knees bent so you can be closer to his body. Todoroki feels the tremors in your thighs as his hand roams the dense muscle, whispering, “C’mere, love,” and then he’s picking you up gingerly.

Shouto hooks one of your legs around his waist at the knee, arching your back so your cunt is still butterflied open for him. Your other leg dangles from the countertop as he balances you on the edge.

The way his fingers work into you is nothing short of sinful, that white-hot flash of pleasure sinking into your eyelids slowly but surely. You begin to lose your peripheral vision as the impending ecstasy begins to settle in. The crest of the wave is close, his knuckles dragging salaciously against the innermost part of you.

Your jaw hangs open the closer you are to coming undone, panting breaths prying your lips apart. You feel utterly exposed in front of him like this, lewdly strewn against the counter that you were sipping rum and whiskey against not even a half hour ago. And yet, somehow, Shouto’s hand cradled against your shoulders is all you need to bring your self-consciousness down to a manageable level.

From this angle, you can reach down and pull Shouto’s briefs down so his cock can spring free. You’re palming at him as soon as you see the dark red of his cockhead. He stutter-steps forward when you pump him the first time, eyes close to bulging from their sockets at the sensation.

You twist his cock in your palm, running your thumb against the pearlescent bead of pre-come collected at the curve of his slit. Using what you can of the liquid, you drag your damp thumb down the length of his cock for slight lubrication. Shouto bucks into your hand when you bob your palm up and down to connect with the base of his pubic bone.

Now that you’re secure on the countertop, Shouto allows his free hand to wander around the curvatures of your body, mapping out the dips and contours of your frame. His hand is on your neck, thumb brushing your jaw, when your mouth drops open from a particularly pleasurable swipe of his fingers. Your cunt is dripping, and you’re honestly not sure if it even matters if you come, he should be able to slip right between your tight heat with ease.

“S’pretty,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek as his thumb brushes the bow of your bottom lip.

On instinct, your tongue laps towards the digit, silently begging for him to do more.

Shouto listens, dipping his thumb into your mouth, pressing the pad of his finger into the thick muscle of your tongue. You lick and suck at him, rolling your mouth to match the pace of your hand as you work his hard cock towards release. Shouto fixes the rhythm of his fingers so every part of your bodies are going at the same speed.

The collective sensations of his hands and mouth are too much and you cry out, digging your free hand into his shoulder to attempt and ground yourself. You pant, looking up at him with bejeweled irises, tears sitting dormant on your lashes as a whine sits pretty on your lips.

“What is it?” he asks, borderline patronizing. “Are you gonna come on my fingers?”

Your lower lip trembles and you feel yourself slipping into some subservient headspace at the tone in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips to meet him as he slows his hand, “P-Please, Shouto, I-”

“I want you to come,” he murmurs into your ear, leaning forward so his breath is hot on your skin. The hand he has buried in your cunt begins to heat and the searing sensation sends your mind reeling. Shouto nudges his nose along your jawline, warmth creeping along the base of his palm, “C’mon, love, I want to see you come. Make a pretty little face for me, yeah?”

His words do little to quell the growing ache between your thighs, the pent-up need begging to be released. You clench around him again, not forgetting his cock between your hand. You continue to twist your wrist, flicking your fingers along the length of his dick, dragging with just enough pressure to make his eyes cross. Teasing the head, you drag the pad of your thumb over it, catching another swell of pre-come and trailing the liquid down the thick shaft.

You whimper his name, squeezing your eyes closed so harshly that the corners of your lids crinkle. Your sounds only grow louder when his mouth begins to suck at your nipple, massaging your breast in his chilled hand. The crystallization of ice draws your attention, a frozen cold so intense that it almost feels hot in its own unique way.

There is a stinging excitement at the duality of the temperatures that grow further apart the longer he activates his quirk. Your nipples pebble while your pussy floods from the heat, copious amounts of slick trickling down his fingers to pool in the creases of his palm. Shouto murmurs obscenities against your earlobe but you’re in such a realm of fevered phrenzy that you can’t make out he’s even speaking English.

“Sh-Shouto, I-I’m close,” you manage, feeling the way his cock throbs beneath your touch helping to bring you back to the cusp of reality. You dive deep again when his fingertips brush against your cervix, allowing his passion to force you beneath the surface.

His thumb is circling your clit as he murmurs, “C’mon, darling, I know you can do it. Come for me, yeah?”

It’s as if his words united with his caress are enough to shove you head-first into the pool of desire. You are whimpering, cunt fluttering around his fingers as your come drips down the crevices of his palm. Your release reaches his wrist, milky liquid tickling his skin.

“Atta girl,” he kisses your cheek, fingers stilling for a moment to allow you to collect yourself. You continue to ride out your high by bucking your hips over his knuckles, slippery fingers easily providing you the rest of the comfort you need to come down from your high.

“Your turn.”

You’re pushing your way off the countertop when the creaking of the stairs makes your heart still within your chest.

Shouto’s stare flickers from you to the staircase, jaw hung open as he analyzes the sound. When another step echoes in the hallway, he’s quick to yank his briefs and sweats back over his hips. He helps you into your shorts, the silvery strands of your release forgotten as he tugs the fabric up your hips.

You’ve just gotten your pants buttoned when Hana’s teetering figure creates a shadow on the kitchen floor.

“Daddy?” she whimpers, fists digging into her tear-filled eyes.

Shouto swipes his hands against his sweats before crouching in front of her. His palms find her sides quickly, thumbs grazing her rib cage in an attempt at comfort, “Hey, love,” the sound of the nickname makes something stir within your belly, “what’re you doing awake?”

Hana swallows a hiccup, “I-I had a bad dream.”

You step forward, pressing your hand to Shouto’s shoulder, offering a gentle nudge of comfort. Hana blinks up at you, jeweled irises focused on your face, “M-Momma?”

The title holds a weight you had not prepared to carry.

She’s all but forgotten Todoroki, pushing past him to barrel into your shin, wrapping her stubby arms around your knee. She wipes her face against the skin of your thigh, sniffling louder as a fresh wave of tears takes over her body. Her shoulders shudder and you don’t have time to wonder whether she’s cognizant enough to realize that she’s just called you her mother.

You scoop her up in your arms, holding her gingerly by the back and head, and she wraps her legs around your midsection to anchor her little body to your torso like a frightened animal. Hana buries her head into your neck, tears sticking to your skin and creating an unbearable heat.

“You’re not leaving, right?” Hana whimpers, “I-I had a dream that you left.”

In an effort to comfort her, you run your fingers through her hair, gently separating the strands so your nails can scratch her scalp. You kiss her temple, “Of course not, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me.”

She retracts from your neck and a rush of cool air washes over you. Her irises are swallowed by her pupils, thick droplets of tears wetting her cheeks. You smile, forcing yourself to forget the way you were just about to jump her father’s bones, and brush your nose against hers in an eskimo kiss.

“It was just a dream, babe,” you comfort her, making sure you are looking at her directly when you say it so she feels much more solid in the reality that you are here to stay. A soothing hand reaches forward to couple with yours, thumb tracing the bump of her shoulder.

Todoroki kisses the back of her head, “Hana, there’s no need to worry, love.”

“I already lost one mommy,” Hana sounds ancient when she speaks, voice far away and intelligent beyond her young years, “I don’t wanna lose another one.”

Your voice is lodged in your throat now, tears of your own pressing threateningly against the back of your eyes. You try to swallow but the shards of your heart are blocking your windpipe, cutting off your oxygen. Todoroki slips his hands beneath Hana’s armpits, separating her from you so he can cradle her body against his chest, “You’re not losing anyone, sweetheart. Let’s get you back to bed.”

You take this as your cue to leave, grabbing your things as Todoroki takes Hana back up the stairs to her bedroom.

A sense akin to despair settles in your chest, restraining your heart in such a way that makes it difficult to breathe. The world seems to settle atop your shoulders and in the next moments you have turned into Atlas, forced to hold the earth up by your careless grip. Tears settle in your lids as you pull away from the Todoroki residence.

Something tells you that things will never be the same.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

As much as you hate it, that little voice eating away at the back of your mind was right.

The looming reality that Todoroki is avoiding you does little to satisfy the curiosity settled in your bones, affecting you down to the marrow.

Ever since that night, he hardly looks you in the eye.

In fact, he’s barely even around to see you at all.

Todoroki leaves for work before you can emerge from the bathroom with Hana in tow, fresh from a bubble bath and ready for breakfast. He slips back through the doors late at night, normally after eight, so Hana is either passed out with you on the couch or curled up beneath her covers in her bedroom. There is not another time where he touches you gingerly on the shoulder and guides you back to bed, not anymore.

You have wondered many times if you should approach him, beg him for some sort of explanation. Not only is his distance affecting you, but it’s turning Hana into a child you hardly recognize. She is still cheerful a majority of the time, begging you to play princesses and watch Bubble Guppies. But there are times when she turns angry, ripping the heads off her dolls and trying to sabotage Todoroki’s work clothes by drawing on his shoes or dropping her glass of morning milk on his suit jacket.

You start to cook his meals the day before, packaging them up in a Tupperware container that’s always gone when you check at breakfast the next morning. You are not a blind woman, and you normally choose to indulge his silly game of hide and seek instead of confronting him about what happened that night.

However, tonight, you’ve had enough.

Even though he’s decided to spend the weekend at home for the first time in a few weeks, you’ve never felt more on edge. Hana is extremely irritable, nightmares plaguing her mind during the time she’s supposed to be sleeping, and it would seem there is nothing you can ever do to satiate her throughout the day.

Playing princess is boring, coloring is stressful, blowing bubbles is stupid.

You are reaching the end of your rope and Shouto’s evasive presence does little to satiate your temperamental moods. You clutch at the cusp of sanity, praying that it will not leave you just yet; the only thing holding your tongue back from lashing out is the sliver of discretion that you’ve managed to sustain in spite of the day’s events.

“Hey, uh-” Todoroki’s voice is strained as he stands in the archway of the kitchen, “Would you mind making us a couple of sandwiches? I think Hana is getting hungry.”

The warmth from the dishwater gives you something other than his irises to focus on, your eyesight directed downward, “Sure. What would you like?”

“Let’s just do peanut butter and jelly,” Shouto shrugs nonchalantly. “Grape, if we have it.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of a specific flavor. You are certain that if you were to look into the refrigerator that you would not find grape jelly, but it’s obvious that Shouto is otherwise unknowing.

“Grape?” you echo, pulling your hands from the dishwater to wipe them on your hand towel. “You think that’s a smart choice?”

Shouto scoffs and it stings so much that you turn your head away from him, eyes now focused on the floor beneath your feet, “Yes, I’m sure. Why does it matter anyway?”

“Oh, no reason.” You pluck a jar of strawberry jelly from the refrigerator and begin to prepare the countertop for your sandwich making.

He takes a step forward to protest, but you’re waving the knife in his direction before he can stride across the tile, “You listen to me, Todoroki. And you listen good.”

Shouto pauses, throat bobbing as his line of sight zeroes in on your lips. His eyes widen, pupils swallowing his irises in fear. The knife wavering in your grasp holds much more weight than any other butter knife he’s come into contact with.

“We don’t have any grape jelly because your daughter is allergic to grapes.”

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the butter knife in your hand, “And if you were ever here you might notice a thing or two, such as an allergy to something that could, I dunno, kill her?!”

The sound of your voice raising an octave or two reverberates off of the walls and thrums at Shouto’s heartstrings. He swallows thickly, but you’re not done tearing into him just yet.

“This little charade you’ve got going on has got to end.” Your voice is desperate, unhinged, and you feel the honesty scrape against the front of your throat, “Your daughter is turning into someone you can barely recognize, and you’re not far behind her.”

Silence envelopes the room, and the only thing you’re able to hear is your heart beating frantically in your own ears. As your pulse thuds rapidly, rushing like a river of thick emotion throughout your body, you feel your palms begin to sweat. The longer you keep quiet, the louder the sound grows.

Finally, after giving him a few minutes to respond, you press the tops of your fists into your hips, glaring down your nose at him, “If you want me gone, all you had to do was ask. I thought we respected one another enough for that.”

You slap together two sandwiches quickly, tossing the plates onto the counter for him to pick up on his own before you turn and walk from the room. You’re unable to look at him any longer, not sure if it’s the loitering reality that you may have to move on from this chapter of your life or the loss of a generous paycheck and living situation that wraps your heart like the talons of a bird, squeezing until you can’t breathe.

The tumultuous roll of emotions scrapes away at your chest, and you’re surprised that there isn’t blood gushing from your ribs. You lean back against your closed door, head tilted backward to stave off the tears, saltine droplets coating your lashes as they sit in your ducts, pending the gentle sway of your neck to drip down your cheeks.

You aren’t sure how long you stay this way, crumbled against your door with the heat of disappointment building smoke in your lungs. It’s difficult to breathe, a dizziness taking over your mind that you’ve never felt quite so acutely before. You cradle your head in your hands, massaging your temples with your thumbs to try and mitigate the oncoming migraine.

A knock sounds at your door and you jump, hand pressed over your frantic heart, “Y-Yes?”

“Can-Can I come in?”

Shouto.

The sound of his voice does little to staunch the metaphorical puncture wound in your chest. You flex your hands before standing to your feet and opening the door, allowing him to step over the threshold into your room.

“Listen, I think there’s just-”

“No,” you interrupt, a short breath filling your lungs, “I’m going first.”

Todoroki’s eyes dilate, his feet stuttering backward as he takes in your assertive sentence. He grits his teeth, jaw quivering under the stress, but keeps his lips sealed in spite of desperately wanting to speak out.

“If you don’t want me here, you could have just said so.” You wring your hands together, knuckles knocking against one another as you twist your fingers. You close your eyelids and inhale a deep breath, “What happened, u-us kissing, wasn’t professional, and I apologize. But what you’re doing to Hana?”

You flare your nostrils as your hands turn to fists at your side. Todoroki watches you closely, eyes never wavering from your frame as he takes in your quivering, quiet fury. Your jaw muscles tense and you force your eyes to meet his, despite the glossiness settled in them, “You’re never here, Shouto. You missed her ballet recital last week, then you forgot she was allergic to grapes, and now you’re not seeing what’s directly in front of you!”

The more you speak, the louder you become. You can feel your cheeks heating, the tears building up in your eyelids with every syllable. Your fists clench at your sides, and your fingernails dig irately into your palms, so harshly that you swear you might draw blood. Each word draws out an anger in you that you didn’t realize you were harboring, like a fugitive sitting in the cage of your chest, tugging on the bars of your heart as they beg to be broken free.

“Hana deserves better than this, and you know it, Todoroki. So if you don’t get your head out of your ass,” your lower lip wobbles and you reach forward to poke him directly in the chest, index finger dug into the space between his pectorals, “you’re going to lose your daughter.”

You’re shaking your head and your fist as the next sentence comes tumbling from your lips, heart strings fully wound as you speak, “Listen, I don’t know what your problem is, but if it’s me, then I’ll leave.”

Shouto’s brow furrows as he looks down his nose at you, “Are you finished?”

The deadpan of his voice stirs something in your belly, something like an acrid fire that plumes in your chest, the smoke of it all curling around your throat and begging to be spewed like acid from your tongue. Your teeth grind into each other, a creaking sound echoing in your own ears. The way your heart twists in your chest makes it difficult to breathe, but you manage.

“Fuck you, Todoroki.”

You go to turn away from him, your hand falling from his chest, when he snatches you by the wrist, repeating his question, “Are you finished?”

A small remaining sliver of your patience sits heavy on your chest, forcing you to nod your head. Regardless of how you feel about him, Todoroki Shouto is an important man, and you need to leave here a dignified woman. If you make a scene, if you flash your fists and bare your teeth, it’s possible you won’t have another job ever again.

“I don’t want you to quit,” his voice is breathless, an octave higher than normal; he almost sounds sick, “but there is a problem.”

The anticipation of what he might say next brings back that acidic wash in your belly, throat squeezed shut by the clamped hands of insecurity and doubt. Shouto takes a careful step forward, mindful of your personal space as he does so. His fingers never leave your wrist, circled around your arm even as it’s pulled away from his body.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

To say that the world stopped spinning was an understatement.

You feel the whole planet turn on its axis, your body undergoing vertigo as the metaphorical rug is yanked out from beneath your feet. Your stomach flips, the acid molting into lava, hot and sticky as it licks up against your skin, pooling just below your navel. His grip is too restrictive, and you can tell your body is beginning to shift into panic mode.

“You’re right,” he barges in on your internal monologue of self-hatred, eyes boring into your soul, “I’ve been a shitty father, which is painful for me to admit. But it’s the truth.”

The conviction in his voice is solid, and you know that he is being authentic. Todoroki has a clouded past when it comes to his father, Enji. You are aware of the influence his estranged parents have on his relationship with his child, which is one of the reasons his distance has troubled you. Every time he has had enough vulnerability to allow you to peek into the glass panes of his soul, he’s shown you the scars that Endeavor has left on him.

Todoroki uses his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb under your chin to pull your attention back to him, “I tried to distance myself from you to get a better grasp on the way I was feeling.”

His palm grazes down the column of your throat, his eyes careful not to stray to close to your lips or else he’ll get distracted. Your mouth bobs open but you have nothing to say, and the bewildered expression on your face makes him laugh. The sound of his baritone chuckle does little to quell the storm raging beneath your skin, lighting striking with every single touch of his fingers and thunder booming in your chest at the sound of his voice.

“For the longest time, I believed I would never love anyone again after my wife passed away.” The feel of his knuckles slipping between yours, palm searing into you despite it being his right side. At the mention of his wife, your whole being begins to shudder, the weight of expectations and self-doubt pressing into your chest like a mass you cannot remove.

Todoroki swallows the lump in his throat, neck bobbing, “I was content with it just being Hana and I for the rest of our lives, us against the world, until you came along. You fit so perfectly into our family, sliding in seamlessly as if you’d been here the whole time. You managed to win Hana over in a day and now she can’t stop talking about you. And then, when Hana called you mom, it threw me.”

Shouto’s eyes are intense as they stare into you, narrowed and attentive. The odd combination of one blue, one grey, is hard to grasp, unsure of where you should look specifically. His fingers against your neck card through your hair, keeping you anchored to him and this world.

“It was easier for me to dive into work because I knew I’d have you here to pick up the pieces,” Shouto admits, his gaze finally breaking away from your face to narrow focus to his sock-clad feet. “I was so weak for you that I couldn’t bear it. And then you and Hana both suffered for my cowardice.”

A wave of destiny washes over you, looming like a shadow, begging you to make a decision.

“Todoroki, this is-”

“I told you,” his thumb grazes your cheekbone, “not to call me that.”

Your jaw hangs open and tears cloud your vision, and you want to smile no matter how hard your body fights against you. Your lower lip quivers and you shake your head, saltine droplets lingering on your cheeks, “I-I can’t, Shouto. I’m not right for you and Hana, I’m not-oh.”

His mouth slots against yours, angled perfectly to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. Shouto’s hands are on your face, holding you in place so you can’t run from him, despite how every cell under your skin is screaming to bolt from your place.

As he parts from you, you’re left in a daze of euphoria, eyes half-lidded, mouth still pursed as you chase after him, pleading for more.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip before retreating to trace your jawline.

And you know that you can’t; your body has already betrayed your words with the simple action of a kiss. Your hands follow suit, wrapped around the fabric of his shirt to keep him close, frightened he might leave you all over again.

Shouto’s hands drift down your abdomen, slow against your rib cage as if he were counting each bone to make sure they were all there, safe and sound. He kisses your forehead and then your nose, mouth hovering over the bow of your lips, eyes begging you even though his voice is caught in his lungs.

You say a stupid thing then, just something meant to break up the quiet, but with the floaty tone of your voice it breeds for much more wicked thoughts.

“Your lips are really warm.”

Shouto laughs before devouring you at the seam of your mouth, leaning forward to scoop you up in his arms, hands dug in at your thighs. You squeal against his lips, wrapping your legs around his waist, your fingers dipping into the muscle of his shoulders for an anchor.

He’s got you back against the bed before you can breathe again, leaning back on his thighs so he can pull his shirt over his head with ease. Your palms are like magnets to his abdomen, fingerprints finding each curve and dip of his muscle, praying you can map it out so you might memorize it for the times when he’s not able to be this close.

As his fingertips graze beneath the hem of your shirt, your eyes go wide, stuttering breath accompanied by panicked words, “H-Hana? Is she-”

Shouto chuckles, “She’s laid down for her nap. We have about two hours.”

The devilish glint in his eyes does little to quell the rampant thoughts running in your mind. You suddenly want to feel his hands and mouth everywhere on your body, insatiable in your lust for his touch.

“Sh-Shouto, please,” you’re panting and he hasn’t even undressed you yet, “need you.”

A devout confession such as that one, something so primal in its nature, shifts his demeanor from playful to sinful. Now his fingertips are dancing beneath your shirt, palming over your skin like he might find a hidden treasure in your bones.

He shakes his head, nose grazing your cheek as he starts towards your collarbone, “Tell me what you need, darling.”

“Need you.”

You are quick in your answer, eyes screwed shut at the tantalizing ministrations of his fingers on your flesh. He is teasing you, just close enough to your breast that it hitches your breathing, but not too close to where you can feel pleasure. A hot wash of arousal rolls into your body, slick beginning to gather between your thighs.

“More specific,” the words are muttered around the skin of your chest, one of his hands tugging on your collar to bare more of your body to him.

You whine, bucking your hips upward, knowing exactly the shape his cock will be in beneath the underwear that has him caged from you. You reach forward and tug at the waistline of his briefs, “Please, Shouto, I want to feel you.”

At the mention of feel, he takes you by surprise as he slips two fingers between your folds, curling into you quickly. You muffle your whine into the pillow, turning your face so your cheek is smushed against the downy cushion. Shouto’s palm that isn’t occupied with your tight heat tugs your shirt up over the tops of your breasts, baring your chest to the cool air of the bedroom.

“You are feeling me, sweetheart,” he teasingly licks over your nipple, thankful for the lack of a bra separating you from his wanton tongue.

Another moan drags salaciously from your lips, vibrating your throat and making his cock twitch, “Sho’, wan’ your cock. Please.”

You’re able to drag his pants and briefs down at once, his cock springing free from the restricting fabric. When it bobs against his abdomen, enflamed red cockhead leaking pre-come, you feel saliva build up in the back of your throat. You start to pump him as best you can, watching as his weighty balls swing under your touch.

Everything about him is enticing, from his dual-toned hair to his heterochromatic eyes to his chiseled body. You’d use your tongue on every part of him if he’d let you, but right now you’re focused on only one thing.

Once Shouto has coaxed enough of your arousal to coat his hand, he curls his fingers into you one last time, collecting the silvery fluid on his fingers, and then stands to step out of his clothes. You keen at the loss of contact, eyes wide open so you don’t miss a second.

“C’mon, baby, take your clothes off for me.”

At his command, you’re stripping down until you’re bare in front of him, clothes in a pool of fabric on the floor right next to his. Even the simple intimacy of his clothing overlapped with yours does things to your heart, a pinpricking sensation making your skin heat.

“Hi,” he whispers, fingers framing your face as you get lost in his touch. His voice is gentle, and his touch is probing in the best of ways, a genuine smile tugging his lips upward as you echo the word back to him.

You can feel your arousal tumbling within the confines of your body, begging to be put to use as you feel his cock against your thigh. Todoroki guides you back into the mattress, shoulders pressing into the cool sheets, your body given some sort of contrast to the molten heat circulating under your skin. Your blushed skin draws Shouto’s attention, eyes dragging over each inch of your body, mesmerized by your beauty.

Todoroki shakes his head, “You’re beautiful, you know?”

And at the end of his sentence, acting like punctuation, his cock slides between your heat.

Your eyelids flutter shut and your hands are on him in an instant, nails dug into his flesh to try and dispel some of the energy already built up within your fragile body. Shouto feels lightning spark up into his spine, the trails of it striking his hidden heart, licking at the edges of the glass box keeping him imprisoned from the world.

As your cunt clenches around him and your mouth utters his name like a prayer, Shouto can tell that his chest is constricting, tightening around his heart in an attempt to break himself free from the confines of his past.

“Sho’,” you’re mewling for him now as the veins of his cock drag salaciously against your tight, glutenous walls. Silvery slick coats his dick and he moans as your pussy clamps again.

He begins to build up the speed of his thrusts, his thumb brushing over your clit slowly, the very beginning of a pleasurable end building up within your belly. His mouth is attached to anything on you he can find – breast, collarbone, jaw, throat, cheek. Teeth and tongue lash out at you, parting his mouth so his heated breath can wash over your body.

Shouto focuses as best he can on forcing heat down the length of his arm, pinpointing the warmest point onto the tip of his thumb. You preen, eyes bulging out of your sockets well enough that he can translate your pleasure. On the opposing hand, the one currently preoccupied with your nipple, begins to freeze. Gooseflesh trembles on his arm but he does not mind, not when he gets to hear your panting whines of his name mixed with the begging sounds of please, please, please.

“Such a good girl,” Shouto murmurs into the thin skin of your throat, tongue delving from between his lips to lavish your jugular. “So pretty, laid out just for me.”

You nod your head as best you can, eyes wide as you drink in his praise. Your mouth bobs open but you can’t form words, not anything intelligent anyway. Shouto reaches his icy thumb towards your lips, brushing his cool touch over the heated skin, steam wafting between the two of you.

“Have you been thinking about this as long as I have?” he asks rhetorically, not expecting you to answer based on the fucked out look in your eyes, the drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as his body makes quick work of you. Shouto grunts, “I’ve wanted to take you against every damn surface in this house for months.”

His left hand peels from your clit, running up over the curve of your thigh to press beneath your knee, pushing your leg upward so he can thrust into you from a better angle. Your hands are stuck on the sheets now, his body just out of reach thanks to the twisting of your hips. Shouto slams into you, balls slapping your ass as he ruts forward.

You feel his cock harden even further from within the confines of your cunt, the tip of him brushing against the spongy corner of your insides. After another deep thrust he’s bottomed out within you, hips absolutely flush with your thighs as he presses into you.

Shouto leans forward, not daring to pull himself away from you just yet, enjoying the way you envelope him fully, “You think you can come for me, love? I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

“Y-Yes, Shouto, I-I’m getting there, almost,” you promise him, eyes fucked out to the point you can barely make sense of his frame loitering above you. Your lower lip wobbles as you pout, “A-Are you gonna-fuck-want you to come in me.”

It’s a simple sentence, but the weight of it makes Todoroki’s heart stop. He knows you’re on preventatives, he’s had to stay home with Hana to cover during the day for your doctor’s visits. But something stirs at the base of his cock, weighing in the thick of his body, and for some reason he wishes you were his for the taking in every sense of the word.

As you whimper beneath him, his eyes trail over your body, landing on your belly. His fiery touch grazes the swell of your stomach where he knows his cock is pressed deep within you. His balls throb at the thought of coating every inch of you in his spend, you begging for more as it leaks out of you and onto the sheets; him drawing you into another round just to make sure that you’re stuffed full.

Suddenly, a fracture within his chest allows him to breathe deeper. As you buck your hips into him, begging him for more, telling him how good he’s making you feel, Shouto recognizes the fragile box surrounding his heart, guarding it from the world, has begun to shatter.

“Shouto, please,” you are begging him now, glassy eyes and pitched tone designed just for him, “Need to feel you, everywhere.”

Your plea is the final rock thrown at the glass box, cracking it in every direction. Shards of emotion lodge in his throat, tearing into him so he cannot breathe. As he gasps for breath, fingers digging into your skin, he knows he’s bruising you but he can’t bring himself to think of it as anything other than finally marking you down at his.

And then, when your breathy voice curls in the air, settling on his chest like a balm, he feels the glass melt away, turning to liquid fire in his gut. The words you utter tear open his heart, leaving a gaping, belligerent wound that he knows only you can mend.

“I love you, Shouto, I love you too.”

His eyes find yours, wide and wanting. You nod as if that will solidify his place in the universe, tears blurring your vision, repeating the sentiment over and over again, uncaring to the way your face looks glassy beneath the lowlight of the bedroom. You just need him to know, need him to understand.

“Shit,” he pushes the heel of his palm into the bottom of your stomach, itching to feel the way his cock pulses in and out of you as he thrusts into your body. His thoughts are even more permanent now, the idea of filling you up, pouring his body into you in the most primal way possible, is the only thing he can see. Your hand makes its way into his hair, tugging at the crown of his head as you lean forward.

A mix of crimson and white is bunched between your fists, matching the little tufts of hair that tickle your pelvis every time he bottoms out within you. You scrape your nails against his scalp, but that only spurs him on faster, panting moans busting his throat open and begging you for more.

Your lashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks, mouth parted so he can see the pink of your tongue, “Sh-Sho’, I’m close.”

He makes it his mission to twitch his cock within your walls, providing an extra layer of stimulation as his channels himself into you mercilessly. Somehow, he does it with such a finesse that it does not feel rushed or sloppy. Shouto is very careful, precise, in everything he does, and you are not surprised it works its way into the mannerisms he exhibits between the sheets as well.

“C’mon, darling,” he coos into your ear, folding your thighs upward so you’re fully pressed into the mattress, “I want you to come for me, yeah? I want you to coat my cock. You can do it, you’re close, I can feel it.”

His praise intertwined with the thickness of his cock bulging within you breaks the crest of the wave, allowing pleasure to flow through your body and onto his cock, coating him in your thick, sweet release.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Shouto continues to thrust upward into you, eyes focused on your face as he uses your cunt to bring his own euphoria down from the clouds. He’s looking down at you, jaw hung wide as he buries his cock into your tight heat, enjoying the way your slick lubricates his length.

You buck up into him and he drops his head to your collarbone, thrusts becoming sloppier the longer he tries to hang on to the edge of the cliff. Your hand in his hair tugs on the strands, mouth by his ear as you whisper, “Please, Shouto, want to feel you come in me. I want you to pump me full of your hot load, stuff me-ah.”

His hips stutters as he releases his seed into you, tongue lapping at your throat carelessly to try and force his body not to start up again. The need to feel you coming around him, begging for his cock and come, is something he has been denying for too long.

“I love you,” he whispers into the curve of your earlobe, nipping at the skin as his hips still. “Fuck, I love you.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to the curve of his scalp, “I love you too.”

As he reaches the extent of his high, he presses his body flat into you, cock twitching within your core. Your palms find his shoulders, grazing gently with your fingernails until he’s moaning into your neck, hot breath fanning out over your skin.

“Unless you want to go again, I suggest you put an end to that,” he warns, but there is no intent behind it.

You laugh, rubbing your ankle against his calf, “We’ve got a little one about to wake from her nap. Maybe later.”

And that is a promise you fully intend to keep.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

“Momma?”

You turn your head, pancakes on the griddle in front of you, “Yes, honey?”

Hana bounces towards you, white chiffon dress bubbling out at her knees, “When is breakfast ready?”

“When daddy gets back from his run,” you answer her, squatting in front of her to smooth the wrinkles from the fabric of her dress. “I made yours with choco-chips.”

Her eyes go wide and you feel a little sunbeam shining directly on your heart, warming your chest. She grabs you by the cheeks, palms squishing your lips together, “You can’t tell daddy!”

“Oh, I won’t,” you promise, voice distorted from the way she has you in her grasp. You brush a hand through her silver curls, tucking the strands away from her face. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Don’t tell daddy what?”

Hana squeals, turning on her heels to sprint towards the garage door. She’s on Shouto’s leg in an instant, clutching him like her life depends on it. You stand back to your feet, brushing your thighs clean before turning back to the griddle to start another round of pancakes.

“We can’t tell you or else it won’t be a secret, duh!” Hana sticks her tongue out as she pokes Shouto’s leg, rolling her eyes like it should be obvious. “Look, Momma’s making pancakes!”

Todoroki looks across the room at you, eyes reminding you of colorful gems as they behold you. Every time you catch him staring at you, you swear it’s even more infatuated than the last, his love for you only growing as time passes.

“Is she?” He peels her from his leg to shift her into his arms, holding her securely against his side. Todoroki walks over to you, leaning into the counter so he’s close enough that you can reach him but far enough that he can’t burn Hana on the griddle.

“You’re back quicker than I expected,” you admit, pouring batter out onto the stovetop. You grab the spatula, prepared to flip once they look done enough, “Did you pull something?”

Shouto shakes his head, leaning forward to intercept you with a kiss to the lips, “I just missed you.”

“Ew, gross! Kissing means cooties!” Hana pushes your faces apart, a hand on your mouths as she dramatically lolls her tongue out of her mouth to prove her disgust.

You chuckle, leaning forward to brush her hair from her eyes again, tucking it behind her ear even though you know it will spring forward not long after. Your eyes flash from her to her father, watching the pride settle into his irises, solidifying them even more. A gentle touch of your hand to his bicep brings him back to you, gaze unwavering as he maps out the features of your face yet again, each time finding something new to behold.

“Well, that means you have time to shower before we eat,” you squeeze his arm and return to your station at the griddle, flipping the next set of pancakes. “I’ve still got to make eggs and bacon, and some hash browns for the princess.”

Hana is beaming, bright smile tugging on the strings of your heart, “Momma makes the best hash browns.”

Todoroki places her back down on the ground, patting her backside as a silent gesture to tell her to go play. She takes his hint, sprinting back into the living room to resume her tea party with a stuffed elephant and a Ken barbie doll.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You never-ooh.”

He’s got you by the neck with one hand, the other anchoring to your hip to hold you close. Todoroki melds your mouths together, the heat of his body quickening your pulse. He steps closer, knee between your thighs so you can feel the hard bulge pressing into the fabric of his running shorts.

You hum as he parts from you, pancakes momentarily forgotten in the wake of his affections. You pat your hands on his chest, gnawing on your lower lip, “Smooth one, Todoroki.”

Shouto pinches your hip, growing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “You. Me. Nap time.”

“Oh?” you ask as he unwinds himself from you, nudging your body back towards the griddle.

“And I’m not talking about sleeping.”

Todoroki disappears from around the corner, slipping up the stairs to your now shared bedroom.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips. When you go to turn this set of pancakes, the diamond sitting on your left hand catches the luminescent lights of the kitchen and you marvel at it. You roll your ring around on your finger, trying to find a different angle to appreciate it from, but you’ve already memorized the shape of it after three years of marriage.

Your palm finds the gentle swell of your navel beneath the baggy t-shirt you’re wearing, one of Shouto’s early proofs for a new merchandise design. You bite your lip and look down, speaking to the rustling new life currently blooming in your belly, “Here’s to tomorrow, little one. May it always be just a little better than today.”

The pancakes are done and the bacon is sizzling when Shouto returns with damp hair and a pair of sweats on the lower half of his body. He curls an arm around you from behind, kissing your shoulder, “Smells good, love.”

You turn to offer him a kiss, which he takes with fervor. Hana voices her disgust from her seat at the table, but Shouto hushes her quickly with a playful rise of his eyebrow, pointed finger making her giggle.

The three of you are sat down to breakfast, just like any other Saturday, but this one feels special for some reason. You can’t quite make it out; maybe it’s the sun shining outside or the crisp breeze blowing through the open windows, but your soul is settled in a way that can only be achieved by utter bliss.

“Hey,” Shouto calls you from your stupor, “your choco-chip pancakes are going cold.”

You blink slowly, returning your gaze to him, a gentle smile on your face.

At least you’ll get to spend the rest of your life with someone as mindful and kind as Todoroki Shouto.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

taglist: @bakugous-forehead @kamehamethot @burnedbyshoto @rivendell101 @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @bitchtrynafck @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @multifandom-fanfic @that-one-enthusiast @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki​ @todorki-shoto​ @bakuoushoe​ @1-800-callmekatsuki​ @tenyaingenium​ @lxvely-mha​ @myherorambles​ @ramen-rambles​ @honeytama​ @sleepysuneater​ @bratwritings​ @samanthaa-leanne​ @orokayagi​ @whats-her-quirk​ @riotfuckery​ @sunbeamwrites​ @bnhawritten​ @aizawamirite​ @lovekatsukibakugo​ @suckersuki​ @secondhand-trash​ @yaoyorozuwrites​ @kingtamakimurder​

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 1

Thank you to the client for commissioning me! This is gonna be a long one! I love Joker and Persona 5 is my second favorite fandom after Danganronpa! Exctied to be working on this.

Around 2.6k words, SFW, SLOW BURN romance friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, anyone can enjoy it and place themselves as the reader! - Admin Myah

Shujin Academy could be silent as the grave in the earliest hours of the morning, and yet seem so deafening. It was almost guaranteed that at least thirty new rumors were spreading throughout the student body at any given time, and the overwhelmingly hostile environment that created made the air heavy. With all the teenage angst, hormones, hatred, circles of venomous malice, it was no wonder so many loners could be spotted on academy grounds. That’s just how it was at Shujin: you either had a clique, or you had no one. It was no surprise, then, that you simply kept your head down, minded your business, and got to know no one. Miraculously, though, gossip abound about you still, at least two or three preposterous examples of hearsay and stories. But hey, what could you do? That was in all actuality, pretty low for a single Shujin student. God help the students who actually did make their opinions known, express themselves through clothing and cosmetics, and dared to swim against the current.

You shuffled through the first floor, the absolute blandness of that April morning perpetuating your usual routine: arrive at Shujin, check your locker, scribble down any notes and ideas that came to you in your dreams last night to put into your next short story, and of course check for new posts in the group chat, where your only friends resided. You wouldn’t be caught dead associating with anyone here at the school, it would simply be mental and social suicide, and quite frankly, you didn’t have the constitution for that.

Peeking up for a split second to avoid any collisions, you quickly slid to the left and ducked into a nearby alcove, successfully escaping the gaze of the oncoming wall of muscle and testosterone that was Coach Kamoshida, the plague of Shujin Academy. It was the best case scenario that Kamoshida remained ignorant to one’s very existence, for even those on his good side suffered the consequences. He strode by, shoulders wide and chest puffed out, scanning the halls for girls to harass or boys to intimidate, and once the coast was clear and he was a safe distance away, his back facing you, you dipped back out of the rather dusty corridor and back into the light, immediately slipping back into an almost mechanical daily ritual. It took mere seconds: phone screen unlocked, group chat opened, notebook slipped snuggly back under armpit.

“C’mon, man!” An obnoxiously loud voice rang out above the typical tinnitus-like buzz of the hallway, and suddenly your shoulder was thrust forward, body flying to the ground with a forceful shove on the shoulder.

“Aaagh!” Your voice cracked as your knees buckled and you collided roughly with the wooden panels below, your smartphone soaring out of your grip and clinking against the floor. Thank goodness your notebook was safe, at the very least. People gasped and turned to look at the spectacle, including Kamoshida himself, who’d just reached the end of the hall.

“Sakamoto! I see you running in the halls again, I’ll write you up!” He just always had to say something, let the general student body know he was in charge. He cared far more about sounding rough and tough than making sure the student who was just steam-rolled was uninjured. He pointed directly at you and the student that had just dashed by, effectively pummeling you to the ground with a shoulder check. You looked up and just ahead of you, Ryuji Sakamoto was pivoting on one foot, ignoring Kamoshida’s threat entirely to catch his breath and look down at his victim, splayed across the floor.

Ryuji Sakamoto, now that was one of those students mentioned earlier, the kind that dyed his hair, customized his uniform, and didn’t take shit from anyone. He was a pariah, pretty much the opposite of the teacher’s pet… teacher’s pest more like. Sakamoto was the subject of many falsehoods and conjectures, and he was sure to be trouble for anyone associated…

You looked him up and down, halting your unflattering and socially-altered thoughts in their tracks. Didn’t wanna become the very thing you hated. There was no reason to judge Ryuji without first-hand proof.

“Woah! My bad, sorry dude!” He held up one hand submissively, but unfortunately, just as with Kamoshida,  it seemed that you were not his main concern either. Huffing and puffing from the sprint, he looked past you to another male student who was hot on his trail, but this one looked… different.

You’d gone to Shujin Academy for all of your high-school career. It was your third and final year before graduation, and you knew of Sakamoto well enough, but this kid was a mystery… was he new here? He must’ve been. You knew at least the face of every student here in some way or another just through Shujin’s own little eternal game of telephone, and not by any choice of your own. You actively removed yourself from the local goings-on. Was it his first day here, you wondered. Why hadn’t you heard gossip about him yet, especially looking the way he did?

Beauty was a curse - much like any other feature that stood out - at Shujin Academy. If you were too pretty or handsome, you must be sexually promiscuous. On the other hand, if you were too ugly, too nerdy, too quiet, you probably picked your nose and read hentai on the train. There was no winning in this soul-crushing wasteland. Unfortunately for this new-comer, he was outrageously gorgeous.

“Gah, sorry about that…” he sighed, slowing his pace as he passed you by, plucking your phone up from the ground and offering you his hand. You took it and stood with his help. A quick tug and you were to your feet, dusting off your uniform and thanking him for his assistance. “Yeah, no problem… Ryuji’s just… a bit eager I suppose” he chuckled. “Luckily, no cracks!” He turned your phone around in his hand before placing it back into yours.

“Isn’t that the transfer student??? I heard he nearly killed a man!” One random NPC-esque shithead whispered from behind.

“Oh God, figures that freak would gravitate to the new freak…” another responded.

Ah…  and there it was. Why did fate hate you so much that it chose you as Sakamoto’s door mat on this day? You truly must have been fortune’s fool.

“Yeah, good thing…” You eyed the boy before you, taking in what you could of the new student before the short exchange was over, from his face to the delicate yet thick veins protruding from his lithe hands.

He was tall and thin, and would even be considered lanky if not for the lean muscle that lined his frame. He seemed to be better off than the average teen, sporting almost no blemishes or imperfections on his smooth skin. A black, messy mop of hair that looked soft to the touch sat upon his head, falling into his eyes and over the dark frames of his distinct spectacles. These spectacles did nothing to hide the true elegance that gleamed in the eyes behind them. They were a muted, soft grey that was beautifully simple and clean. His uniform was neat and tidy - as opposed to his blonde and brash acquaintance’s - with his pristine white turtleneck gently blanketing a quite prominent Adam’s apple and his school jacket buttoned and ironed perfectly. Lower down, his plaid slacks concealed thighs that strained against the fabric and long legs that ran down into some very - yet again - flawless dress shoes. Yep, that was a brand new uniform, sure enough.

And a brand new student… he just might make a good subject, a new inspiration for your writing, an aura unmarred by the stain this place put on one’s soul. Your opinion of him was fresh, it was new, unaltered, unbiased, and he really was quite beautiful… your mind played with the thought.

“Ah… sorry about this,” he spoke, taking in the whispers all around you, “I probably just ruined your reputation, what with being seen with me an’ all,” he sighed and laughed breathily, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. He must’ve been keen to the ways of Shujin already, which was super sad in its own right. “I’m Akira by the way,” he held out a hand, and you shook it hesitantly.

“Eh, doesn’t really bother me. It’s (Y/N), nice to meet you. Sorry you’re feeling the Shujin warm welcome.” That first part was only partly true, but the last half was genuine.

“Anyway…” his voice shook you back out of your contemplative reverie, and you came back to reality to find him also looking you over. Oh right… you were new to him as well… “I gotta go, Ryuji is kind of impatient, I’ve found.”

“Hey! Am not!” Ryuji retorted, brows furrowing before he ran off. Akira’s eyes rolled playfully, before he smiled, waved, and sped off.

You nodded, and quickly pulled out your phone, rushing to the glass doors leading to the courtyard. Anything to get out of the spotlight and harsh crowd of stares, plus, you had a sparkling new idea filling up your cranium, and artistic inspiration could not be wasted. Finding one of the benches placed for student recreation, you set down your school bag and impatiently scrambled for your favorite pen, throwing open your notebook.

“Oh, shoot!” You’d gotten ahead of yourself in all the excitement. Placing the moleskin down, you picked up your phone, hands trembling just a bit, and messaged you friends before anything else. They just had to hear about this.

 ＊

 (Y/N) 9:55 am: Guys guys guys!!!

 Itsuki 9:56 am: What do you want?

 Rin 9:56 am: ???

 Megumi 9:57 am: Shouldn’t you be in class?

 (Y/N) 9:57 am: Shut up I have a free period just listen

You know how I’ve been having writer’s block?

 Rin 9:58 am: Ya

 (Y/N) 9:58 am: Well I just met this new kid, and ideas just started FLOWING.

 Itsuki 9:59 am: Yeah

 Megumi 9:59 am: Yeah we remember nerd

Oh that’s great!

Wait what do you mean?

New kid?

Only we can have you 😭 Don’ go switching up on us. Shujin is

toxic anyway.

 (Y/N) 10:01 am: No no no It’s not like we’re friends, I just met him is all

You know you’re my one and only bby 😘

 Itsuki 10:01 am: New kid???

 Megumi 10:01 am: 😎

 Itsuki 10:02 am: Gross

Also what about me!!!!

 Rin 10:02 am: Me too 😡😡😡

 (Y/N) 10:03 am: You two know you’re included in that???? 🤔🙄

Anyway just listen

I think he may be good inspo for my main character!!!

I was stuck looking for a unique look or face claim or something

But he seems nice enough and he’s good looking!

 Itsuki 10:05 am: You got a crush? Awww I’m telling 😏😏😏😏

 (Y/N) 10:05 am: I swear it’s like we haven’t been friends for years…

You know me, PLEASE don’t be gross

Writing purposes ONLY

 Megumi 10:06 am: I thought you were stuck on the CONTENT, not characters and shit

 (Y/N) 10:06 am: Both!!!! But he’s perfect for the look of my protag

 Itsuki 10:06 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

 Megumi 10:07 am: Well I’m happy for you

STOP

 Itsuki 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

 Rin 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

 (Y/N) 10:08 am: I can see this conversation isn’t going to be productive 

LMAO you’re assholes

＊

 You tucked your phone into your pocket and once again picked up your notebook. Scrawling down some of the details you knew about Akria: his looks, the sound of his voice, the way he carried himself, you quickly became aware that you knew far too little… or rather

 You wanted to know more.

 Standing, you packed your things and set out to find him again…

 Not in the creepy way! You thought to yourself, trying to justify this uncharacteristic choice of yours to actually reach out to someone in real life, to maybe… try to make… friends? You stood there, brows furrowed and a small frown on your face, pondering your options.

“Oh well, all artists must suffer for their work!” You resolved a little too promptly to try to force another encounter with the new kid. He seemed to be special, unique. He seemed to be well aware of the social hierarchy of Shujin, and have a distaste of it at least. Maybe he wouldn’t be… so bad?

Making up your mind, you spent your free period not writing of romance and rebellious characters, but searching for that fluffy-headed newfound hero to your story, however ghoulish and greasy that made you appear. You truly were becoming that “reads-hentai-on-the-train” and stalks cute boys freak your peers thought people like you were, weren’t you?

To your surprise (though maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising with the volume of Sakamoto’s voice) you soon found the gaggle of second-years, model-status beauty Ann Takamaki now added to their number, standing next to the stairs on the third floor, looking quite conspicuous to boot. Noting the suspicious air around the three, you pulled back, hiding behind the corner leading down the next hall. They seemed on edge... maybe now wasn’t the best time to make friends…?

You felt something thump in your chest. Your shoulders sank subconsciously. It felt a little disappointing, disheartening in a way you couldn’t explain. It was a bit intimidating: Ryuji the loudmouth with a temper, the hottest girl in the school, and the cute new kid. You sighed, this was why you never tried to make friends in the first place. Why had you even gotten your hopes up?

These irrational feelings of self-doubt clouded your heart, your head knowing better of course. It was hard to fight thoughts like these, especially for someone like you. On the precipice of making up your mind, deciding to give up and scrap the new novel idea altogether, you were jolted to attention by the sound of shoes scuffling and scrambling up the stairs.

Students aren’t really allowed on the rooftop during school hours unless accompanied by a teacher or given express permission, your thoughts swarmed. Maybe they didn’t know? No, there’s no way. There’s a possibility Akira didn’t know, but Ann and Ryuji had been here for two years... What were they up to?

Your nosiness was regrettably getting the better of you, and you slithered over, careful to pad your steps and tread softly. You didn’t even know what you’d do once you’d cornered the trio on the roof, didn’t know what you’d say. What was there to say? You were never too good with words, that is those not written on paper. Your heart beating out of your chest, you climbed the narrow stairwell and threw open the doors to the roof.

“Huh?” You looked around, dumbfounded. “Hello?” The rooftop area was not that large, all parts of it visible from the door.

There was no one to be found.

“What the hell?” You step forward, thinking you must have been the subject of some prank, but no, upon looking around, all three students were gone without a trace. No school bags, no lunch boxes, no uniform pieces, nothing. Akira, Ryuji, and Ann, all vanished into thin air. There were no hiding spots, none big enough for three people at least. It was dead silent, and only the door you currently guarded provided an exit off of the roof. Your mind wanted to wander to darker places, but if they’d have jumped, there surely would’ve been a commotion either during or shortly after. Frantically, you looked around, feeling like you were going crazy.

“What the fuck?” You pressed the palm of one hand to your forehead, sitting on the ground and crossing your legs.

[sluttbuttsstuff]

BUCCI GANG SKINCARE/BEAUTY ROUTINE (because this is what i care about)

BRUNO:

Probably has naturally perfect skin, because he’s beautiful and perfect

I love tan Buno, even if the anime and PPP make him super pale.  I translate this to the personal headcanon that he does have a natural tan, but he does use sunscreen everyday

He picked it up from being the son of a sailor, and one too many bad sunburns

Probably also loves using products with aloe in them, he knows he can trust them

Probably washes his face at night, but showers in the morning (because Abbacchio showers at night) so he thinks he doesn’t need to wash his face

Probably shaves often enough, but doesn’t cut his skin anymore when he does it because he is GROWN

Doesn’t use moisturizer because his skin is naturally on the more oily side, and thinks he doesn’t need it

He probably ends up getting wrinkles and aging MUCH faster because of this

  ABBACCHIO:

He has “A Routine” for his skincare, but he focuses more on his makeup and hair

If he’s just gonna cover it up with makeup anyways, who cares what his skin looks like

Because of that, his skin is on the sensitive side, i.e. he gets sunburn easily and has a bunch of allergies to chemicals and specific ingredients

Miraculously doesn’t get much acne anymore, just some blackheads on his nose

So yeah he puts a lot more effort into his makeup as a result

Very good at contour and cut creases-dramatic and gothic looks with dark/neutral pallets

Probably loves Kat Von D because of vibes, but also has an impressive collection of more indie brand’s liquid lipsticks and eyeliners

Actually does care a lot about his hair now that it's long

He originally let it grow out due to apathy, but Bruno complimented his hair so he keeps it long now and maintains it regularly

He washes his hair every other day give or take, then blow dries and irons it. It takes about 2 hours

He also regularly uses a hair mask, and protective sprays and oils

Also probably only uses brands recommended by hair stylists like redken and paul mitchell or the italian equivalent

He waxes all his body hair off.  All Of It.

As previously mentioned, he tends to take night showers because lets him take his time

Plus he's obv not a morning person.  He needs like an hour to do his makeup before he’s ready to go out in the morning

Probs wears the most makeup out of the gang

GIORNO:

Giorno is a person who’s carefully created a mask to achieve his dreams, and i believe this absolutely carries over into his appearance

Not to mention with issues of bullying and abuse in his past, he uses his beauty routine almost like a knight uses armor

Needless to say, he’s got the most intense skincare routine

Without fail, will wash his face and do a skincare regime twice a day

Im talking double cleansing, toner, spot correction, serum, essence, eye cream, moisturizer, etc

Spf in the highest protection available and regularly wears face masks at night

Will NOT go to bed without taking care of his skin

He definitely doesn’t seem like it, but might be the most obsessed with beauty and personal appearance out of anyone in the gang.

BUT it's the natural, effortless type of beauty.  The #wokeuplike this type

Wears some makeup, but its minimal, especially compared to Abbacchio

Some bb cream with spf and primer, lip gloss/tint, and eyebrow/lash tint.  Prefers brown mascara as opposed to black, and prefers long lashes as opposed to thick

He washes his hair with all natural products, and lets it air dry except for his donut holes in the front.  He pincurls them and uses as little hairspray as possible.

occasionally uses a straightening iron to add some curls, otherwise he thankfully has nice hair

Doesn’t really grow any facial hair.  Except for some leg/armpit hair, which is super soft and light.

Also uses hair masks and supplements for his hair, and again prefers organic/natural ingredients

I Want What He Has

MISTA:

Oh dear god

Probably one of the worst routines

Naturally has oily skin and hair, which is great for preventing aging, but bad for everything else

He does not know how to take care of himself, and unless it's brought to his attention, or he’s trying to impress/seduce someone, he doesn’t particularly care

That’s not to say that he’s a lost cause, he could probably be a model if he knew what he was doing.

Because he has oily skin, he got a lot of acne as a teen.  It’s getting better the older he gets, but he still gets plenty of white heads and acne.

Mainly on his forehead because of his beanie.

Will pop them every morning, and sometimes show it to Narancia (to his amusement) and Fugo (to his dismay)

After he pops his zits, he will use those alcohol pads

He thinks unless the skincare is actively burning his skin, it isn’t working

He’s recently started using witch hazel after a recommendation from Giorno, and it’s actually helping him a lot.  He’s not a huge fan of the smell, but it’s a start.  

This man needs to take at LEAST one shower a day, sometimes two.  Not just because of his oily hair, but because of his daily activities with passione, he sweats a lot which doesn’t help with his skin or hair

He uses Head and Shoulders , which is a crying shame.

I headcanon that his hair is naturally very dark, thick and wavy/curly, a bit coarse.  

9/10 his hair ends up sweat plastered to his skull by the end of the day after being under his hat

VERY HAIRY.  If he misses even a day of shaving, will grow stubble.  Body hair dark and curly

Also prolly has backne

FUGO:

Two words: Dry Skin

Which is nice because he doesn’t get a lot of acne, except for blackheads on his nose.

His skin is sensitive in other ways though

For one, it shows his blush easily, which can be embarrassing

Also dark bags under his eyes, although that’s mostly because of his irregular sleep schedules

Uses lotion on his hands a lot, because otherwise they can get very dry and cracked.

his lips are almost always cracked and chapped too, sometimes to the point of bleeding

He washes his face and hair daily, but doesn’t use moisturizer because he doesn't know that much about skincare.

He has learned about sheetmasks from Giorno, though, and likes them

He doesn’t do it often though, because Mista and Narancia make fun of him

Uses whatever shampoo or conditioner Bruno buys him, or whatever’s cheapest at the grocery store.  He does like to use mousse to slick his hair back and style it though

He can technically grow a beard and grows facial hair at a regular pace, but it’s so light and patchy that it doesn’t look that good, so he shaves regularly

NARANCIA:

Poor baby gets the painful kind of acne.

His skin is heavily affected by his hormones and diet

Maybe that’s why he prefers fruits and veggies to meats?  All the sugar and greasy food doesn’t do his skin any favors at all

Unconsciously picks at his acne, and doesn’t realize until he sees blood on his fingers that he knows isn’t from “work”

Could probably benefit from getting medication from a dermatologist, but he doesn’t know the first  thing about it, and is too embarrassed to ask Bruno for help

His hair is Dandruff prone, probably because he washes it every day.

Doesn’t use any special products or anything, but his hair is SO SOFT

It does get tangled up easily, unfortunately, and he has a cowlick on the back of his head that won’t. stay. Down.

Doesn’t really grow any facial hair yet, but his body hair is dark and thick, but very soft at the same time

Poor bby needs help with his routine

Got to Giorno, not Mista

[honeypirate]

Looking Forward To It

In which pro hero Dynamight falls for his high school crush and personal suit designer and scientist, you, and asks you out.

Bakugou x reader (could be gn or fem but i didn’t edit it so i dont remember)

readers quirk works like welding but only works on metals, went to UA as a support student but took extra hero course classes so you could be a hero if any metal villians were to come along. Bakugou and you were friends after second year when you made him a really amazing support item and loved explosions as much as he does. you agreed with him that Lord Explosion Murder was an amazing hero name and that sealed your friendship forever.

Bakugou walks into the warehouse, a smile on his lips, he’s been looking forward to this meeting for several reasons, the biggest reason being you and the second being he is so excited to see what you have made. You were the student behind the design of his current hero suit and since you have grown up you became one the most well known designers and scientists. He has a small jar in his hand of his glycerin like liquid that you needed a little of, for a new idea, the meeting was just supposed to discuss your thoughts and share with him your ideas.

The warehouse was set up with a small office in the front, followed by a few meeting rooms, a public bathroom, and the biggest part being your “office” but it was more like just a work floor for you and your employees to have enough space. There was also an armored testing room and a room in the back where you could sleep that had a full bathroom with a shower.

“She’s in the back Dynamight you can go on in” your receptionist says with a smile and he thanks her before heading back into your office/work area.

As he is making his way back to you he hears a small ecplosion followed by your frustrated voice echoing down to him “Mother fucking bitch! God damn it all! That was not my plan! Mother hell!” he chuckles as he pushes the half cracked door open all the way “Y/N?” he says and you laugh, a sound that makes him smile and brings butterflies to his stomach, followed by your voice “back here!” he walks farther into the room, bast the many tall shelves lined with several different ingredients and different power tools all organized specifically by color, followed by several bins with different metals, he can see your back as you sit at a metal table, a few lights around you and smoke still in the air. As he gets closer he can see the tools around you, things that he didn't even recognize, tools you once told him you designed, and things that look like metal capsules. You hop off your stool and turn towards him “right on time!” you exclaim with a blinding smile that makes his heart skip, you throw your arms around his neck and he chuckles as he hugs you back. When you pull away you pull the dark goggles off the top of your head and set them down on the table. “You bring it?” he nods “of course! I’m excited to see what you have for me” he says and you squeal ''I am too!” you hold out your hand and he places the jar in it. 

You stand next to the table and he stands besides you, “watch this” you say with a smile as you put a metal dropper into the golden liquid in the small jar and get out .5 of an ounce before placing it into a small metal capsule, placing a special lid on and sealing the edge with your quirk. “This is kind of dumb becasue you wont use them very often if at all. But this topper makes it so this will explode on impact and then suck everything back to that space like an implosion. And this top” you hold up a different unconnected piece “is a timer. So its a real bomb!” you say excitedly and he chuckles, your happiness rubbing off on him. “That is really cool I must say. Even if i don't use it often it is a cool option to have” you grin “i'm glad you think so. I felt kind of dumb but i still wanted to try. Do you want to see this?” you hold up the capsule you just made and he laughs “of course!” you bounce on your toes in a little dance as you take off your leather apron and set it on the desk  “okay follow me!” he laughs and follows you out the door off the side of your office, into teating room you made specifically to test Bakugous support items. 

“Okay okay okay you know where to stand” he laughs, he loved your energy and your mind, he stood where you wanted him, behind a very thick piece of plastic so he could see into the other side of the room, you squeal again with glee and walk into the other side of the plastic, you kiss the little capsule and then toss it to the other side of the room, moving over quickly next to Bakugou as it sails through the air before it hits the other side of the wall and explodes before sucking everything back to the middle point of impact exactly like you hoped it would. “Yes!” you exclaim and raise your hands in the air, turning towards him and hopping up and down. “That was amazing y/n!” he laughs and you blush at the way he was looking at you. “I know it isn’t super practical but at the right time it would be fun to use!” you tuck your hair behind your ear and then gasp, bringing your hands out in front of you “I didn't realize i was so dirty” you chuckle, realizing some must be on your face but you didn’t really care. 

“Yeah just a little but that’s how i know you’re making super amazing things!” he gushes and then blushes, clearing his throat “you said you have something for me?” you beam at him “that’s right! Come with me it’s just inside” he follows you back to your office and you quickly run and grab a box from under your desk, “I know you are a huge fan of your black, green, and orange, color scheme. But I made some improvements to stitching and flexibility, with a better flame resistant formula that actually keeps you cool as you wear it. I also wanted to try a semi different color scheme so just tell me if you hate it and I'll make it just the same as your others. But i was thinking since it’s fall and going to be winter,” you pull out a new suit, identical to the last save a few details, the orange bands were thinner and lighter, and now they were a darker blood orange. The black was even more black, a higher percentage of light being lost than the other black (thank you stuart semple) and the green being a darker green as well, more foresty and less tree frog. “I thought the darker colors would look AMAZING when it snows and the orange is more fall. There are even several hidden pockets that make whatever is inside them indestructible, so your phone, wallet, whatever will be safe no matter what”  He takes the suit from you with a smile “y/n this is …. Perfect!” you laugh “really?!” he nods “i love the new colors it’s perfect for winter and i love the pockets. Im gonna go change in your bathroom” and before you can stop him he is off into your private bathroom in the back of the office. 

You hop on your stool and begin making more of the little capsules, just three more with the amount of his Nitroglycerin substance. You place them in the box and then work on some other personal project of something you were making for your moms birthday.

When he comes back he walks quietly since he was behind you “tell me what you think” he says and you grin, setting down your tools you turn around and gasp with a smile “it is so much better than i imagined. Is it too tight? How is the fabric? Is it itchy?” you hop off your stool and make your way over to him while you talk, reaching out and running your hands across his chest to feel how it fits, running your hands across the straps to make sure they fit him well, as he begins to speak you walk around to his back side “n-no it’s all great. R-really” you run your hands across the fabric on the back, the tank like top on his shoulders sat well, you stuck your fingers inside the fabric by his shoulders, pulling it back a little and running your fingers along the inside seam, down until you get to his armpits. 

What you didn’t know was how hard his heart was beating, you always got into the headspace of an inventor every time you gave him something new, not noticing the effect you had on him, how his heartbeat grows rapid and his hands get really sweaty, filling up his gauntlets. You never noticed how he blushed or how his voice stuttered through answers to the questions you ask. You check the way his belt fits on his hips and he gets goosebumps that you, you guessed it, didn’t even notice. 

“It looks so good. I'm so proud of myself!” you  giggle as you walk back to the box on your table, your back to him again now, he takes a deep breath and tries to calm his heart. “I have improved your gauntlets as well, the color and the weight, they can also hold double the amount now so since you wear them all day you won't waste any. Also here is a new head piece, it’s built in with bluetooth so you can connect it to your phone and it will perform voice commands, you can set the word that wakes it up through an app i made that i already emailed you.” he chuckles “always going above and beyond. That’s why you're my favorite” your heart skips and your cheeks flush as he comes over, swapping out his gauntlets and head piece for the new ones, he places his old gear in the box and smiles at you. “I’m glad I can make you happy yet again” you say and smile at him, thinking about all the other ways you wish you could make him happy 

Since you didn’t have anything else for him, it was time for him to leave. You hated this time because it always comes too soon, you walk him out to the door and your receptionist sends you an obvious look before she excuses herself to the bathroom. “So i’ll.. uh.. text you if i have anything new for you” you say with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of your neck before placing your hands behind your back, rocking on your feet “sound’s good” he says with a smile and you heart skips again, your cheeks feel warm as you return his smile. “Okay then” you say and he goes to push the door open “I’ll see you around.” he pauses for a second and then turns back “do you wanna get dinner with me maybe? As a date?” he asks, rather quickly actually, all of it out in a rush, his nervousness showing. You gasp before chuckling softly “I’d love that” you say with a closed eye smile and he lets out a breathy, nervous laugh. “Okay. cool. I knew you’d say yes (he didn’t. He thought you were definitely going to say no). I’ll call you after work then” he says, a blush covering his cheeks, you beam at him and then say “I’ll be looking forward to it”

[hale-13]

Hold Fasts

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 11 - Whipping

“Is that really all you got?” Peter asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood and one of his incisors in the direction of his kidnapper. A few droplets of blood landed on the man’s hands to mix with the blood that was already dripping from his brass knuckles. The tooth clinked across the floor until it landed beside his foot - Peter really hated when his teeth got knocked out but at least this time it was one of the fake ones that had already been replaced and not one of his actual teeth.

Words: 2220, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Peter Parker, Tony Stark

TW: Whipping, Torture, Kidnapping, Blood

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Is that really all you got?” Peter asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood and one of his incisors in the direction of his kidnapper. A few droplets of blood landed on the man’s hands to mix with the blood that was already dripping from his brass knuckles. The tooth clinked across the floor until it landed beside his foot - Peter really hated when his teeth got knocked out but at least this time it was one of the fake ones that had already been replaced and not one of his actual teeth.

“Bored already?” The man asked in a light voice, punching Peter across the face again and opening up a cut on his cheek from the sheer force of the hit.

“I have a short attention span,” Peter croaked, blowing another globule of blood out of his nose to drip down onto his already ruined shirt. Masked Goon Number One’s mask crinkled in obvious disgust and Peter smiled at him. He could tell by the coppery taste in his mouth that his remaining teeth were covered in blood – surely making for a gruesome image.

Peter, definitely the unluckiest kid in Queens and maybe all of New York, had been snatched literally right off the street on his way to school the day before. Unfortunately for him as well, his kidnappers clearly had a modicum of common sense because they had not only divested him of all of his tech but they had to have disposed of it somewhere on the way to their cliché super secret base (read: abandoned warehouse – so unoriginal). At least that’s what Peter figured since Tony hadn’t burst in within a few hours of him being missing.

Even more unlucky – they had figured out he had enhanced strength and had compensated with heavy duty cuffs that kept him chained against the concrete wall. So far there had been no mention of his arachnid alter-ego so he had to be thankful for small miracles he supposed.

“If you would just answer the question-,” the man started, an edge of frustration to his voice.

“Not gonna happen.” Peter said firmly, his tone filled with steel in juxtaposition to the light smile on his face.

“Stubborn,” the man in front of him muttered before nailing Peter in the stomach. He grunted but didn’t make another sound, he really didn’t want to give them the satisfaction when he had been doing so well at controlling himself. So far their questions had ranged from wanting information on FRIDAY’s systems to the blueprints for the Arc Reactor. Peter had played dumb for a while until they made it clear that they knew about his connection to Tony and them he just started denying them outright. “Why don’t you think on it for a while. We’ll get back to you later.”

“Won’t change my answer,” Peter snarked back as the man left the room, slamming the door in an odd display of irritation and leaving Peter in darkness. Finally alone, Peter let himself dangle from the chains holding him, his shoulders screaming in protest and his back spasming as it took his weight.

“C’mon Tony,” he thought, letting his eyes slip closed. “Where are you?”

——————————————

“My guys tell me you’ve been pretty uncooperative. And after we provided you with such luxurious lodgings – this is top of the line you know,” a new man said, pushing the heavy steel door open hard enough it hit the wall with a bang and startled Peter awake from his light doze.

“Eh they’re pretty average,” Peter said shrugging and trying to keep the sleepy slur out of his voice – he really didn’t need to sound any younger than he probably looked. “Maybe a four out of ten on Yelp. I could be persuaded to bump it up to a five if you’d take these cuffs off though. A six if you offered a decent room service selection.”

“Tempting,” the man told him. “How about a trade? You tell me how to get past Stark’s firewalls and I’ll let you out of the cuffs?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Come on Marty! How many times do I have to tell you assholes no before it sinks through your thick skulls?”

The man blinks at him in surprise and confusion. “Marty?”

“You look like a Marty,” Peter shrugs. “It’s not like any of you have introduced yourselves. Its pretty poor manners you know.”

“They told me that you were intelligent but you clearly aren’t smart enough to save your own skin,” Marty told him nonchalantly. “Either that or you have no self-preservation instincts.”

“The second one,” Peter agreed with a nod, Mr. Stark had told him the same plenty of times when he was patching him up after patrol.

“Right then. Well we’ll just have to up the ante a little. Get him prepared.” Peter’s eyes narrowed as two of Marty’s henchmen came into the room and wrestled Peter until he faced the wall, arms twisted uncomfortably, and cuffed his ankles to the floor. “Just remember: we can stop at any time, all you need to do is answer the question.” The man turned and left the room, pausing at the door. “Oh and its Nicholas by the way, not Marty.”

“Don’t get your hopes up Nicky!” Peter called after him as he left the room, grunting when he was punched in the stomach.

“God I wish we could gag you,” Henchman One said under his breath as he efficiently slipped his knife into the back of Peter’s shirt and cut it clean down the middle, leaving it hanging open in the back and slipping down his shoulders to pool in the crook of his elbows. Every hair on Peter’s body stood on end as goose bumps rose up on his arms and neck and he let out an involuntary shiver.

“What are you doing?” Peter questioned, renewing his struggles and trying to break the cuffs or pull them out of the wall. Neither man answered him. “Hey shit-stick I’m talking to you!”

“You know? I’m really going to enjoy this,” he heard one of the men mutter before there was the sound of something cutting through the air and then his back lit up in a sharp sting. Peter gasped in a breath as his lungs seized. “Well that shut you up.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Peter croaked as his back lit up on fire again and his knees went weak.

“I’m sure you can figure it out you little brat,” Henchman One said, just barely popping into Peter’s peripheral vision as the whip cut across his back again. “Scream if you want to answer the question and make it stop.”

Peter grit his teeth and tried to hold in the scream that wanted to tear out of his throat when his back was hit the fifth time. By the seventh he could feel blood start to pool at the waistband of his jeans. He nearly bit through his lip on strike number twelve and he lost count after that – he’s unsure when he finally gave in and started to scream.

———————————————

“Come on Pete, focus up buddy,” a warm voice said just on the edge of Peter’s consciousness. “This isn’t a good look kiddo.”

Fingers tapped on his face incessantly and Peter groaned, allowing his head to loll back on his neck in the opposite direction to get away. “G’away,” he mumbled out, unable to speak louder than a whisper without his throat throbbing in agony.

“No can do Bambino,” the voice said, hands running through his hair and maneuvering him to be more upright, his chest leaning against something warm and solid. “But if you open your eyes for me I’d be willing to negotiate getting you out of here. What do you say?”

Peter huffed out a breath of exertion and slit his eyes open. Everything was a little blurry but he could clearly make out the comforting blue glow of the Arc Reactor from where the Iron Man suit stood sentry behind Tony Stark. The man was leaning Peter’s chest against one of his shoulders to keep him upright and was staring down at him with a pinched expression.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said, letting his eyes slip closed again and leaning more fully into his mentor’s side. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I’d ask if you frequented dumps like this but I’m honestly afraid of the answer,” Tony told him lightly, trying to joke but falling flat. “Think you can stand buddy? I can’t really carry you and I figured you might protest the gurney.”

Peter let out a huff and let his head drop to rest in the crook of his mentor’s neck. “I can walk.”

“Try to lean as much weight as possible on me okay?” Tony told him before beginning the complicated maneuver that they had both nearly perfected so that Tony could get his hands under Peter’s armpits and lift him to his feet. Once standing, Peter’s vision pulsed and went grey around the edges and he fell forward to rest against Tony’s chest as the room spun around him. “Whoa there Pete! You’re alright, just take a few deep breaths okay?”

“Dizzy,” Peter breathed, his vision still fading in and out. “Need to sit…”

“Need to…?” Was all Tony was able to get out before Peter’s vision failed completely and he started sliding back down toward the floor. “Oh shit! Can I get some help in here?! Pete? Peter! Stay with me!”

But Peter didn’t. The darkness was a lot more comfortable than being awake and he was pretty sure Tony would forgive him if he took a little nap. There was a lot of confusion and shouting around him and he was just so tired. With that thought swirling through his head, Peter let himself pass out.

————————————————

Even without opening his eyes, Peter could recognize the plush feeling of the MedBay bed and the sharp smell of betadine and chlorhexidine and industrial cleaner in the air. It tickled his nose and made him want to sneeze but he manfully held it in, burying his face a little more firmly into the plump pillow. He was resting on his front instead of his back like normal and he could tell by the slowness of his thoughts and the heaviness of his muscles that he was on his super strength painkillers and probably some sort of sedation as well.

His thoughts were murky and hard to get through with the pain relief on board so he didn’t try to think too hard for now and, instead, blinked his eyes open slowly. The room was dim like it was late in the evening even though warm light filtered in through the barely cracked blinds. There were two chairs beside his bed – the closest one held May’s purse and scrub jacket and the second had his mentor.

Tony was leaned over his tablet, one elbow propped on the arm of the chair and eyes half lidded as he read through something on the screen. He looked tired but, Peter supposed, he always looked that way when Peter ended up in the MedBay. “Mr. Stark,” he muttered out, blinking his eyes and barely managing to get them back open through his exhaustion.

Tony jumped and launched his tablet to the floor but was quick to recover and stand up so he could lean over Peter and run a cautious hand through his hair. “Hey Bambino,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Peter answered, letting his eyes close again. “High.”

“Yeah I’ll bet,” Tony agreed with him, a touch of amusement in his voice. “You should go back to sleep, you’ve got a lot of healing to do. You want anything before your nap?”

“What happened?” Peter asked, slitting his eyes open to look up at Tony’s worried face.

“When I asked if you wanted something I was thinking water or ice chips,” Tony told him pointedly but Peter didn’t let up on his relentless, woozy eye contact until Tony sighed and settled into May’s chair so he could hold Peter’s hand and continue to massage through his hair with the other. “You were kidnapped for information on me.”

“I didn’t give up anything right?” Peter asked, worried. He could vaguely remember some hazy memories but nothing was really clear through his tiredness and the drugs coursing through his system.

“Not one bit,” Tony confirmed, pride and concern warring on his face. “We’ll have a much more in depth discussion about that later and how you should always save your own skin over a couple passwords,” he promised, “but, for now, all you need to know is they messed up your back pretty good. Cho and Bruce estimate a full recovery with no scaring but you’ll be out for a bit while you recover.”

Peter searched his grey-tinged and sluggish memories before letting out a little hum of understanding. “They whipped me.”

“Yeah kiddo,” Tony confirmed. “They did. But you’re going to be just fine. I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me,” Peter agreed, letting his eyes slip shut again. “Gonna nap now,” he said groggily, “night.”

“Night buddy,” Tony whispered and Peter fell asleep to the feeling of warm fingers carding through his hair and a calloused hand holding his.

[noyoucantpinmedown]

TD girls + body hair removal, just because I can

Also known as “the most woman-ly thing I have ever done”

Heather uses an epilator as we see in Hook, Line and Screamer.

I also see her getting waxed professionally, and using the epilator for maintenance. 

She does not tolerate having the slighest stubble anywhere ever. Even if it’s winter and she isn’t wearing shorts or a tank top anytime soon.

Even when she gets older and lets go of patriarchal beauty standards, she still hates body hair.

Gwen shaves. Don’t fight me on this.

It’s particularly inefficient for her because since she is pale af and has dark hair, the stubble is super visible.

Heather and Lindsay push her to start waxing. They offer to do it for her the first time and she cries (this may or may not be based off personal experience)

Sometimes lets her armpit hair grow out bc she can’t be bothered to care, but doesn’t like hairy legs

Sierra uses depilatory cream. The smell usually clings to her skin.

Doesn’t like having body hair so she removes it again as soon as she can.

Lindsay has been waxing since she was twelve. Begged her dad to pay for laser hair removal.

Heather is jealous bc when she asked her parents if she could get laser hair removal, they said no.

Like Heather, has hangups about body hair.

Eva lets it grow out and doesn’t do anything to it, except trimming it sometimes. It’s thick and tends to grow long.

Whoever dares to criticize will receive a rant about the patriarchy and its’ impossible beauty standards...and probably also get their teeth knocked out. Depends on whether or not Eva’s friends are around to stop her. 

Leshawna alternates between shaving and waxing at home. You can tell when she’s waxing because her cursing is heard throughout the house.

Will fight anyone who points out when she has stubble growing, or when she hasn’t shaved in a while. “Yeah, I have hair, grow the fuck up. I have better shit to do than shave all day.”

Katie & Sadie wax at home, and they help eachother with the backs of their legs.

Bridgette really likes sugaring because it’s very eco-friendly. Threads her eyebrows.

She’s also lucky enough that her hair is light and kind of blends into her skin. Likes to let it grow out sometimes.

Izzy doesn’t really give a shit. She lets her hair be. When she feels like waxing, she uses sugar wax, just because she likes the DIY aspect. Tends to make a mess of the kitchen cooking the sugar wax.

Beth has very fine hair so she just uses those bleaching creams.

Once used duct tape instead of wax strips.

Also once plucked every single hair on one section of her calf.

Tried sugaring and she got the hang of it really fast, but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle.

Courtney waxes, sometimes at home, sometimes professionally.

Stress-plucks the ever loving shit out of her face.

Has “waxing days” every few weeks on her planner. Yes, she even has that planned out.

[vannahfanfics]

I’ve Got These Scars, But I Think They’re Pretty

Category: Angst, General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Dabi

Additional Tags: Role Swap AU

The bright white waiting room hummed with hushed conversations of waiting patients, worried family, and chatting nurses. Dabi sat hunched in a chair, leg bouncing and hands clasped tight, but not because he was awaiting treatment. His aquamarine eyes scanned the room to observe the comings and goings, the brightly-colored spandex suits and the fluttering capes as the local heroes made their rounds visiting the various tenants of the pediatric intensive care ward. 

By all rights, Dabi should be among them— but he didn’t exactly fit the mold of hero , even if he was a member of a bonafide agency. With a quiet sigh, he sat up to observe the dark purple scars and silver staples adorning his marred skin. No, children shrieked and cried at the sight of him and his scarred body. He’d only undo the optimism the other heroes were instilling in the ailing children if he strutted around pretending like he wasn’t some kind of patchwork monster. 

Sighing heavily, Dabi leaned forward to cradle his head in his hands. 

It was times like this that he loathed his father the most. So easily, Dabi could have turned to the path of vengeance and brought retribution in the form of a fiery inferno, but he hadn’t. He’d persevered; he’d endured the trauma and abuse and his own goddamn skin melting off his bones as he lived in his own circle of Hell until Shoto came around. He’d overcome all the urges and temptations to become a hero— but he still couldn’t be normal . They always wondered in the back of their minds if he was unhinged or a villain spy because of these scars he was forced to bear. 

Dabi clenched his teeth and curled his fingers into his hair, fingernails scoring into his scalp as he struggled to reign his volatile emotions back in. Oh, how he hated Endeavor, but he hated himself more for slipping back into these spirals of thought time and time again. Frustrated tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he seethed in self-loathing and resentment and struggled not to let the negative feelings swallow him whole. 

I shouldn’t be here. 

“Hey, mister, are you here to get treatment?” 

Dabi jerked up with a small gasp as a sweet little voice yanked him out of his depressive spiral. He blinked rapidly, his teary eyes blurring his vision into hazy watercolors for a few seconds, until the form of a small child materialized into view. Her eyes were bright and wide as she regarded him curiously, a half-eaten chocolate bar in one hand and the other bundled to her chest in a thick cast. Gauze covered two-thirds of her body, making her seem like a little baby mummy standing before him. 

He straightened up in the chair and rubbed his sweaty palms across the fabric of his ripped jeans. 

“Oh, um… No.” 

“Are you visiting someone?” she asked, chomping down on the chocolate bar. Dabi grimaced slightly as she kept her stare fixed upon him while chewing open-mouthed on the sweet confection. It was a little unsettling, as he was so used to the wrong kind of stares; the little girl didn’t seem to register his scars at all, just gazing unblinkingly at him out of nothing but pure curiosity. 

“Um… Sort of. I’m with the hero agency visiting today,” he explained. The girl cocked her head to the side with a slow blink. 

“Then what’re you doin’ sittin’ out here? Are you tired?” 

Somebody come get this kid! Dabi thought as he shifted uncomfortably. Though he’d deeply desired for a kid to be able to converse openly with him like this, now that it was happening, it was such a foreign sensation that it was deeply unnerving. He cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced around to find someone who could serve as a decent excuse. Unfortunately, all the heroes were busy in patient rooms— leaving Dabi to fend for himself. 

“Look, kid, aren’t you supposed to be in a room somewhere?” he evaded. The little girl shrugged and took another bite of the chocolate. The piece broke off with a loud snap before she chewed avidly on it.

“Yeah, but I wanted some candy, so I took some of my allowance and went to one of the vending machines. I don’t remember what room I’m s’posed to be in, though, so now I’m lost.” 

Dabi had to snicker at her completely emotionless analysis of the situation. The tyke reminded him of Shoto, almost, with that dispassionate disposition and monotone voice. Dabi’s head lolled on his neck as he took another look around. The nurses and doctors were nowhere to be found now, either. Well, he thought as he pushed himself out of the chair, I guess I should do the “heroic” thing and escort her back to her room. 

“What’s your name, squirt?” 

“Katsumi.” 

“All right, Katsumi. Let’s go find your room, huh?” he said as he strode off. The girl obediently trotted to keep up, continuing to munch on her chocolate bar and smearing it a little across her lips. The ICU of the children’s hospital was the largest of the facility, so realistically, it could take a considerable amount of time for Dabi to find Katsumi’s room in the sea of beds. He slipped his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, icy blue eyes flicking between the name placards adorning the closed doors. Dabi was more than content to tread along in total silence, but the little girl— not so much. 

“Hey, mister, where’d you get those scars?” 

Dabi glanced down to see her gaping at the purple patchwork decorating the visible parts of his body. However, what startled him and stuttered his steps was the look on Katsumi’s face; rather than disgust, fascination adorned her features, and there was a strange sparkle in her eyes. He stood frozen as she tucked the chocolate bar under her armpit so she could run her fingers over the wrinkled, stitched skin of his forearm. 

“They’re burn scars, aren’t they?” 

Dabi’s expression softened as Katsumi’s eyes grew lidded. She ran her fingers over the marred areas a few more times, then reached back to claw at the bandages swathing half her body. “So when I’m all better, will I look like this?” 

Dabi’s throat closed up as he felt the oddest sense of shame washing over him. I shouldn’t be here, he thought again. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do as Katsumi studied his injuries and envisioned herself like him— barely held together by staples and prayers? He bit down on his lip as it grew hard to breathe, and once again, the hate began to well up inside of him, a geyser threatening to explode and arch into the sky in frightening brilliance. 

“Your scars are so pretty.” 

Dabi almost fell over. 

“Do— do what ?” he cried as he looked down at her in shock. Katsumi gave him a sweet, innocent smile as if what she’d just uttered wasn’t insanely weird. She shyly rocked her hips back and forth as she placed her hand on his arm again. 

“Purple is my favorite color!” she explained with a giddy laugh. Dabi’s face wasn’t sure what kind of expression to make, but it made something. He sagged in disbelief— and a whole lot of relief — as Katsumi continued to admire the disfigured skin painting his forearm. Her eyes were lidded again, but this time in a childlike hopefulness. 

“That’s what happened to me, y’know. A house fire,” she said and raised her arm as much as she could in the cast. Dabi refrained from contradicting her; it was easier for her to believe something simple like a house fire and not years on years of pushing his Quirk beyond his body’s physical limits. “The nurses and doctors are all super nice, but… I hear them talking about how it’s such a shame that I’ll be scarred for life, a pretty girl like me.” When she looked back up at him, tears bubbled in her eyes before rolling down her plump cheeks, rosy with life and pain. “I’ll still be pretty even with these scars, right? Right ? Just because I have them, people can still love me, can’t they ?” 

Dabi breathed sharply through his nose as he ran a hand through his dyed hair. Of all the things he’d thought would come of today, comforting a crying child in the middle of a hallway wasn’t one of them. Yet he couldn’t help but feel glad for it. This little girl echoed the same things he’d felt after his incident. 

At least, unlike Dabi, Katsumi had someone to put her fears to rest. 

“Of course they can,” he said as he crouched down. His coat brushed against the white tiled floor as he kneeled beside Katsumi and rested a hand atop her head to ruffle her hair. “If anything, the scars’ll make you even prettier. They’re a sign that you overcame everything and came out still standing, yeah?” Dabi was never the best with words, so he hoped that Katsumi understood. 

She stared at him for a moment, still sniffling petulantly. However, little by little, a smile wormed its way onto her face. 

“Really?” 

Dabi’s smile broadened and gave her hair another ruffle, making her giggle. 

“Really. Don’t listen to what those nurses say. Anybody who has any sense’ll know that those scars don’t make you anything less.” 

“Thanks, mister,” she preened, and Dabi swore the smile she gave him was brighter than the sun itself. As he stood, she lunged forward to take his hand and lace their fingers, still probably feeling a little emotionally vulnerable. Dabi didn’t make any move to rebuke her, only tugged on her slim arm so they could resume walking down the hall. Soon she was swinging his arm back and forth as she pranced along, much more animated and happy that she had been previously. 

Dabi felt a sense of pride welling up inside him, knowing that just a few words of encouragement had illuminated Katsumi so brightly. 

Suddenly, he was very glad he came. 

Eventually, they located Katsumi’s room. The nurse nearly bowled Dabi over when they meandered up, screeching at him about kidnapping and not listening to a damn word he had to say. Though Katsumi brightly attempted to explain that Dabi was a kind hero who had led her back, the nurse was about to call the authorities on him until Hawks sauntered up and slapped his gloved hands on Dabi’s shoulders to give her a brilliant grin. 

“It seems there’s been a big understanding. Ma’am, this is one of the heroes working at my agency, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t call the authorities on him.” 

The nurse dropped the phone with a series of confused sputters, pointing at Dabi as if that was all the evidence she needed. Dabi sagged into the bird-man’s grip, irritation bubbling up inside him. For a moment, he had forgotten how much of a ruffian he looked to the general populace. Hawks continued to diffuse the situation with practiced grace. 

“I know he looks like a thug, but I promise, Dabi here is a bonafide hero! He even brought your little lost dove back, yeah~?” 

“Yep! We had a great talk,” Katsumi chirped as she clambered back into her hospital bed. She finally remembered her chocolate bar and removed it from her armpit, frowning when she discovered that it was half-melted and squished. After scrutinizing it for a moment, she shrugged and chomped down on it. Dabi smirked as he watched her, very entertained. 

Hawks’ honeyed words had placated the nurse, who begrudgingly offered Dabi a half-hearted and wary apology. He shrugged her off and walked over to Katsumi, who was enjoying the remains of her chocolate bar. 

“All right, squirt. I’m off. Got lots of important hero business to attend to and all.” 

“Will you come back and see me?” she asked, looking up at him with a chocolate-smeared pout. Dabi snorted and pushed her head a little, making her laugh giddily. 

“Of course. I’ll see ya next week.” 

“Okay! Bring some chocolate bars!” 

“You got it,” he waved as he strolled out of the hospital room. Hawks followed suit after cheerfully bidding farewell to the nurse. They both sighed deeply as he closed the door behind him. 

“Well,” Hawks smiled as he strode up beside Dabi and nudged him with an elbow. “Lookit you, gettin’ friendly with the kiddos. I didn’t know you had it in ya, Dabs.” 

“Shut up, you great big chicken wing,” Dabi growled and flashed him a scowl. Hawks laughed good-naturedly, feathers ruffling in mirth. 

“Oh, come on now! It’s progress!” Hawks insisted. Dabi left him standing there with his arms held up like the great big winged moron he was. Hawks pouted and whined after him, but he continued off to the vending machines, suddenly craving chocolate. As the wrapped candy bar thunked down into the receptacle and he leaned down to retrieve it, a serene smile decorated his face as he caught the reflection of his scars in the glass. 

“Yeah, I’ve got scars, but I think they’re pretty!” He could just hear Katsumi bleating to the ignorant nurses. As he straightened back up with the chocolate bar in hand, he rolled up the long sleeves of his coat, exposing more of the purple patchwork skin to the cold air of the hospital. 

“Yeah. Me too, kid.” 

As he walked out of the hospital into the sunshine, he glanced up at the sky and smiled. 

I’m glad I came. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[ma-danse-alanguie]

I haven't seen anyone talk about this before so I thought I would share some stuff I've learned since I decided to stop shaving my armpits:

People don't notice as much as you'd think. I am a very pale, white woman with thick, dark hair wherever it grows. The contrast is about as noticeable as it can be. People still don't notice it. They're too busy getting on with their own lives to stare at you.

The people that do notice tend not to comment on it. This might be because I am in my early twenties (and thin, and cis) and I associate mostly with younger, more progressive people. I was super nervous the first time I went to a yoga class and had a top on that didn't cover my armpit hair. No one said anything. No one. It was a revelation.

Having armpit hair is actually super comfortable. It doesn't itch. Stubble itches while it's growing out, but once it's long and established it goes REALLY soft.

You get fewer sweat marks on your clothes because the hair soaks up the sweat instead. Turns out armpit hair evolved for a reason! It's super good at helping you stay cool by collecting sweat and helping it move away from your skin and evaporate!

It doesn't make you hotter in the summer (see above). But it might keep you a little cosier in winter :)

If you're using deodorant (which I've also learned is kind of optional. People don't notice as long as you shower every day and after exercise. Source: my partner, and also my nose), you need to hold it a bit closer to your armpit when you spray because it needs to be on your skin, not your hair, in order to work.

Someone who genuinely finds you attractive will want to sleep with you with or without body hair (source: also my partner)

You do need a certain amount of self confidence to do this. I'm a woman who decided to do a degree in a super male dominated field, I already refused to wear skirts, dresses and high heels, and wear makeup maybe once every 2 years. I'd already stopped shaving my legs and never once thought of shaving my pubic hair (do people even do that? Gross). Having hairy armpits wasn't a big leap for me, and I wasn't terrified of any backlash, because backlash is part of my life already. And as I mentioned earlier, I get away with a lot of this by being cis, white and thin. I'm already ticking a lot of Socially Acceptable boxes, so when I choose to deviate it's not seen as such a big threat.

People might start to imitate you! I noticed a friend of mine stop shaving a little after I did. I don't know if it was something she wanted to do already or if seeing me do it gave her the push she needed, but yeah. You won't be the only one doing this.

And finally... No more ingrown hairs in awkward to reach places!!!!!!!!!!!!