“Miya-san!”

Osamu’s head swivels towards the sound, and he spots you right away even though you weren't the one who called for him.

You’re a few metres down the road, sitting on a bench in front of a bustling restaurant, slumped over onto the shoulder of your junior who seems to be doing everything he can to keep your head tipped up against his arm. Kimura, the name Osamu had once been introduced to him as at one of the events your company held, has blushy cheeks when the older man approaches—he seems flushed due both to being flustered and a little tipsy, and the knot of his tie is loosened at the base of his throat.

“Kimura-kun,” Osamu greets him with a dip of his head as he approaches, his eyes scanning your seemingly sleeping face. “She asleep?”

“No,” you slur in reply, but your eyes stay closed. Osamu’s not certain it’s the truth, and even less certain you realize he’s the one who said it.

“I-it’s all my fault,” Kimura squeaks, looking increasingly like he might burst into tears. “They were trying to make me drink more, but Senpai kept switching out our glasses when the other section leads weren’t looking.”

“Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ she’d do,” Osamu replies with a fond but exasperated sigh.

part ii of the demon prince shouto au (1.5k)

SUMMARY: You learn just what kind of ancient bond Shouto has invoked to protect you, and come to terms with what that means for your future.

TAGS/WARNINGS: modern supernatural au, aged up characters, demons, bonding bites/bonding fever, fem pronouns + afab reader, demon courting behavior, no nsft stuff in this one but discussion of nsft topics, 18+ mdni please!

"What the hell was that?" you demand, rounding on Shouto.

You think you catch the flash of slitted pupils before the demon prince blinks, the snarl fading from his mouth. He looks down at you, eyes flickering over the torn collar of your shirt, your blood already drying into the frayed edges. There's some at the corner of his mouth, and he runs a thumb over it, swiping it off.

You try very hard not to notice that he presses the pad to his mouth, tongue flickering out to catch the droplets.

"Touya," he says by way of explanation. Like that was at all what you were asking about.

"Obviously that was Touya!" You frown up at him. "I mean the biting, Shouto! What the fuck?"

Shouto's gaze flicks to the bite mark marring the space where your throat meets your shoulder. He blinks slowly, like a cat surveying a roll of toilet paper it's shredded, pleased.

"He wanted to take you in punishment," he says, his fingers lifting to linger over the bite. "But he couldn't take you if you were mine."

"Is that what this is?" you demand. "Your nameplate? 'Property of demon prince number three, do not touch'?"

Like a kid who had to have their name scrawled onto the tags of all their clothing, the cover pages of their books! Un-fucking-believable.

"It is...a bonding bite, yes," Shouto admits as his fingers finally touch it. A hot stinging sensation rises to meet them and you wince.

You do not quite love the sound of that.

"A what?"

"A bonding bite," Shouto repeats, his voice hitching into a strange, almost-purr that you've never heard from him before. His fingers brush the mark gently again this time, and there is some whisper of feeling at the corner of your mind.

"Why are you saying it like that?" you ask, a weird feeling rising in your chest. It shivers through your limbs, leaving you feeling hot and thready and a little bit weak.

You find yourself gripping Shouto's bicep in an effort to stay upright, the feeling under your skin growing even hotter when it dawns on you how large and solid it is under your palm.

Shouto adjusts you against him, and you realize you're still caged in the circle of his arms. The demon prince is so very warm against you, hard all over with pale, lean muscle, and there is a look on his handsome face that you've never seen before.

"We will need to complete the bond," he says, his voice dipping even lower, softer. Those mismatched eyes flicker back to your bite, and his fingers smooth over it again, petting gently. "I will wait until you are ready."

You squint at him, trying to pay attention to the shape of his words through the sudden fog in your brain. "What bond? What completion is there?"

Shouto's eyes darken, and the hand at your back tightens on you just the tiniest bit. "The marriage bond. It will be completed with our coupling."

It's only his grip on you that stops you from meeting the floor when your knees give out from underneath you.

"Marriage bond?" you echo, a thousand feelings flashing through you all at once with the force of a firebomb. "Marriage bond? You just demon married me?"

This time, Shouto does purr. You can very much feel the thrum of his chest under your hand.

"Yes," he says, his thumb smoothing across your back. "It is a little different than human custom—and far more serious. There are points of connection you cannot sever."

You feel like you hear the echo of his words again, in the back of your own mind, and you realize all at once that that wasn't just you hallucinating. You could hear him, in your mind, his voice as soft and low and perfectly clear as if he'd spoken out loud.

Demon married. You had just gotten fucking shotgun wedding demon married with some sort of telepathic connection to the Third Prince of Hell.

It was even more of a fever dream than when you'd learned what Shouto truly was, and even more unbelievable than when he decided to stick around, picking out all your shows on Hulu and eating through your shrimp chips.

He was super weird, but strangely sweet, and toe-curlingly, brain-meltingly, jaw-droppingly handsome. You could not deny you'd enjoyed your time spent with him, these past couple of months. You thought of him as a close friend and a treasured roommate, weirdly enough. But to get married? Just like that? To a literal demon prince born in the fires of hell itself?

"Why...? What could possibly mean that we have to...?" you garble out, still woozy.

Shouto takes this as his cue to hitch you higher in his grip, carrying you over to the couch you'd abandoned when Touya had first stepped through the portal into your living room. He arranges you over him, still pressed chest-to-chest, so that you're half-sprawled on top of him, his expression still that of a pleased tomcat.

"He wanted to take you," Shouto says, the hint of a growl in his normally even, deadpan tone. "But if you are mine he cannot touch you, as it would be equivalent to touching me. It would open up a succession war."

His hands smooth over you, down your back, down the skin of your waist where your sweater has ridden up, his touch sweet but possessive.

You suppress a shiver.

"He wanted me to claim you, I know that much," Shouto continues. "I want to figure out why. But we will need to complete the bonding before I can leave you to talk to Natsuo and Fuyumi."

Complete the bonding. The words clatter around in your brain, their implication clear. The coupling he mentioned.

He wants to—Shouto wants to—with you?

"Shouto, are you sure you want this? I'm sure you really don't have to protect me, like this," you insist, trying to push yourself up off his chest. "We could try thinking of another way—"

It only has the effect of settling you more firmly over his hips, however, and Shouto hisses, his grip on you tightening.

"You have been mine since I decided to stay," Shouto says. "In all but name. Humans require time, and courting, mother says. So I have given you time, and I have been courting."

It suddenly dawns on you what he's been doing with all those horribly cooked meals, the weird trinkets that occasionally pop up around your apartment.

Courting.

Shouto's been courting.

"But you are mine. And you always have been," he says matter-of-factly. Like it's any other fact about the world. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and you have always been mine.

Another wave of something hot flashes through you, and you're immediately embarrassed by the way your thighs reflexively clench together around his hips. But Shouto's eyelashes flutter, and his normally sweet two-toned gaze grows even heavier with intent.

"I will wait until you say you are ready," he tells you, his voice thick. "Humans always require time. But the bonding fever is settling in, you will not want to wait too long."

Bonding fever—is that what has you feeling like a drippy, melting puddle of foggy confusion against him?

Dear god you have gotten yourself in way above your head, you don't know how to make sense of things.

But Shouto is so strong and sure against you, so sweetly, angelically beautiful, so luxuriously and sinfully warm. Another wave of heat sweeps through you, and you grip onto him for dear life, suddenly sure of only a few things.

You'll have time to figure this all out when your head is back on straight. But for now, you know Shouto would never hurt you, and you know Shouto wants you. And you, even in the thick of the weirdest situation a human being has ever found themselves in—you want him too.

You let youself grow slack in Shouto's hold, blinking up at him.

"Okay, let's do it," you say, embarrassed when your voice comes out so eager and high. "I don't know what's going on but I know I trust you. So Shouto, let's complete the bond. And we can figure everything out after."

Shouto smiles then, not just the amused, fond little quirk of his mouth he usually does.

It's a blindingly beautiful thing, clever and sweet and so devastatingly handsome. There's just a flash of his sharp canines, longer than any human's, the very teeth he's given you the bonding bite with. He is otherworldly, and for just a moment you can do nothing but gaze up at him, lost in the fever, lost in the look of him, lost in the power of the situation you've found yourself in.

And then he's gathering you up into his arms, stalking towards your bedroom.

The door closes behind you with a final, resounding click.

atsumu miya who was always naughty growing up, staying out late and getting pulled over and getting detention and getting letters sent home and taking in class but ALWAYS came home to give momma miya a kiss on the cheek and tell her he loves her

It has been hard for me to talk about how what is going on with Israel and Palestine is affecting me personally, but I grew up in Gaza and most of my family still lives there. My father did not survive the bombings last week and I have not been able to contact my younger sister in days. I am try to being understanding that most people do not have personal connections to what is happening and therefore are justifying their silence, but is heartbreaking to see this misinformation being spread. What’s happening there is a genocide, not a war. It is not antisemitic to support Palestine, it’s not even antiemetic to criticise Israel. There is no grey area or neutrality regarding this, and it is so easy to find resources that will educate you on the subject. It is my people and my home being destroyed so I will never be silent about this, but I please urge everyone to get informed and start speaking up and finding ways they can help.

decolonizepalestine has tons of information on Palestine’s history/propaganda that has been spread throughout the years

UK citizens can email their MP asking for a ceasefire

US citizens can call/email their local government officials asking for a ceasefire

Jewish Voice for Peace also has many resources for ways for US citizens to get involved, including protests

Donate to Palestine Children’s Relief Fund

Donate to Medical Aid for Palestine

Donate to help get food and hygiene kits to Gaza

“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

nanami finally getting the club fic he deserves cw: suggestive

whenever gojo drags nanami out to the club, it’s not unusual for him to slip into a secluded corner. after a long week of work, the last place he wants to be is on a loud dance floor or sitting at a crowded bar. he’d only agreed to come because gojo was picking up the tab for tonight. 

it’s during his third drink of the night that he watches gojo and his fiancée on the dance floor, hands all over each other as they sway to the dirty rhythm of the club. 

it’s when he’s waiting for the bartender to pour him his fourth drink that he sees you slide up to the other end of the bar. 

the loud bass is suddenly replaced with the drum of his heartbeat. 

the black silk of your dress shimmers. not in an overly gaudy way, but in a way that was utterly tantalizing, drawing his attention to every shift of your hips and turn of your torso. 

he’s not aware that he’s staring. not until you turn to meet his gaze.

Imagine Dynamight going to a school to be interviewed by the little children there, sitting down in one of the chairs in their classroom that is far too small for his hulking form but he sits down in it without complaint as the kids sit down in front of him with crossed legs.

And he loves it, because they have no filter— just like him, and they end up asking him the most blunt questions without hesitation. And some of the questions he’d never usually answer if they were coming from broadcasters or reporters, but he can’t lie to these kids so he keeps responding openly and honestly.

Even when one of the little girls asks “Mister Dynamight, do you have a girlfriend?”

It’s a rumour that’s been circulating for months as the media try to work out who the mysterious woman is in his life (if there even is one!) and it’s confirmed immediately when Bakugou answers with a, “Yeah, I do.”

And as his PR manager is having a meltdown in the corner, Bakugou’s grin is wide when the little boys in the room sound out a simultaneous chorus of “ewwwwwww”

THE WITCH'S SONG - part two knight!osamu/witch!reader tags: fem!reader, royalty!au, supernatural!au, witchcraft, enemies to lovers, mentions of violence/illness/death, persecution and oppression, tw blood/gore, please read the tags on each chapter as updated and minors do not interact. crossposted to ao3 MASTERLIST

For as long as you can remember, you have always risen with the sun.

It’s a habit so deeply constitutional that you've never bothered to question that part of your own nature—the breaking light cresting over the horizon each day, perfectly in time with the first flutter of your eyelids.

Your bedsheets are gentle against your skin as you rouse from your slumber. They're buttery soft, perfectly worn-in from the many nights of rest you’ve found under their cover, and the scent of fresh air still clings to them from an afternoon spent hanging on your clothesline a few days prior. You nestle your cheek into the downy embrace of your pillow, breathing in deeply to savour those lingering notes of summer breeze. You let the breath fill every corner of your chest as you inhale, feeling the way your ribs rise to make room for it, and then you let it out again in a warm rush. You repeat the cycle a few times more, and slowly take in the first moments of your day as your eyes adjust to the early morning light.

THE WITCH'S SONG - part two knight!osamu/witch!reader tags: fem!reader, royalty!au, supernatural!au, witchcraft, enemies to lovers, mentions of violence/illness/death, persecution and oppression, tw blood/gore, please read the tags on each chapter as updated and minors do not interact. crossposted to ao3 MASTERLIST

For as long as you can remember, you have always risen with the sun.

It’s a habit so deeply constitutional that you've never bothered to question that part of your own nature—the breaking light cresting over the horizon each day, perfectly in time with the first flutter of your eyelids.

Your bedsheets are gentle against your skin as you rouse from your slumber. They're buttery soft, perfectly worn-in from the many nights of rest you’ve found under their cover, and the scent of fresh air still clings to them from an afternoon spent hanging on your clothesline a few days prior. You nestle your cheek into the downy embrace of your pillow, breathing in deeply to savour those lingering notes of summer breeze. You let the breath fill every corner of your chest as you inhale, feeling the way your ribs rise to make room for it, and then you let it out again in a warm rush. You repeat the cycle a few times more, and slowly take in the first moments of your day as your eyes adjust to the early morning light.

“you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

the furrow of katsuki’s brow deepens as he stares past the open door of your daughter’s classroom. curious, you follow his line of sight—gaze falling upon a young boy sitting at a small coloured table —and oh, he’s picking his nose.

your husband, who is nothing but muscles as he leans against a bulletin board in his tight black compression shirt, arms crossed and scarred face twisted in disgust—can barely watch the scene unfold, letting out an audible scoff as he turns to you.

“i can’t believe you left our daughter in there with those snotty little sh—”

“katsuki!”

your voice is an aggressive whisper, one that does nothing but draw even more unwanted attention to the two of you—as if the other parents haven’t stared enough already.

in retrospect, they probably didn’t think they’d be seeing dynamight while picking their kids up from the first day of preschool.

Im sorry, I have to bother Osamu

——

“I swear to god I’m going to lock you in the bedroom.”

For whatever reason, Osamu decided that this was the night out he was going to dress down, usually sticking with jeans and a sweatshirt for most of the nights with the boys. Tonight however, he looks damn intoxicating, he looks like a bad mistake you’re more than willing to make: muscles jammed in a compression shirt that slightly cinches his waist, settled over the band of his grey sweats that cuff at his ankles. They sit low on his hips and good lord if he doesn’t hide the band of his boxers, you’re going to lose your mind.

“I look bad or somethin?”

THE WITCH'S SONG - part one knight!osamu/witch!reader tags: fem!reader, royalty!au, supernatural!au, witchcraft, enemies to lovers, mentions of violence/illness/death, persecution and oppression, tw blood, please read the tags on each chapter as updated and minors do not interact.

The night air is sweet. 

It’s still early summer, where the days are warm and bright before giving way to cool evenings, and the smell spring unfurled with its budding leaves continues to linger long after the sun sets. The aroma is fresh and green, not yet turned to the heady fragrance of singed grass and warmed earth which will slowly seep in as the days grow longer and the sun ever-brighter overhead.

There’s something captivating about this time of year; not quite the lush, blooming spring, nor the scorching, unforgiving summer, but a deliriously pleasant in-between that keeps the best of both.

holding out (just for you) masterlist

pairing: dragon!bakugo katsuki x reader (ongoing)

mentions: sfw, aged-up characters (24+), fantasy au, fem healer reader, descriptions of injuries, near death experience, cultural misunderstandings, fluff, second person, part of the bnha big bang collab

summary: after getting caught out in a vicious storm, you seek refuge in a dark cave, not knowing that it is already occupied by a large dragon who really doesn’t want you there.

too bad you aren’t planning on leaving anytime soon—not when he looks like that.

(or: in which you find a horrendously injured dragon in a cave and make it your duty to heal him, not knowing that he’s the infamous dragonshifter, bakugo katsuki, who has been cursed to remain trapped in his dragon form forever—unless the spell is broken)

with art done by the lovely @your-fellow-passerine !!! here is a link to the original post (give it some love!!!!) <33

also on ao3 and quotev!

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four - TBA

KIRISHIMA SPINOFF - TBA

MIDORIYA SPINOFF - TBA

TODOROKI SPINOFF - TBA

brighter than ever (we'll burn, baby) - SEQUEL TBA

katsuki is sitting on the couch in the living room, holding his new little baby in his arms, and you notice that he's just been staring at him for the longest time. adjusts his little hat so his head doesn't get cold, pulls his small hands away from his face so he doesn't scratch himself.

and they're both quiet for a while, aside from the occasional squirmy baby noise, but katsuki eventually speaks up to ask—

"why's he lookin' at me like that?"

not only is the question itself funny, but the way it's voiced — tone deep and gruff, almost affronted — pulls a true laugh from you, has you shaking your head as you come around the couch to stand beside him.

and sure enough — your new little bean is frowning. even his little hairless browline is furrowed, hard.

you laugh again, sharp enough that your son wiggles in katsuki's arms. "because you're looking at him like that."

katsuki tch's, before turning to give you his son's exact same expression. "no 'm not. this is just my face."

"well, maybe that's just his face."

his frown deepens, hilariously enough. "ain't his face with you." and then he looks back down at him, like he's checking to see if he's still being glared at. he is. "looks like he's pissed."

"maybe he is."

you don't bother to correct him, to inform that your son does, in fact, give you a stink face every now and again — just like his father — and instead you watch katsuki lean down close to him, until their noses are nearly touching. watch the way little fingers squeeze around katsuki's thumb.

"the hell do you have to be pissed about, huh?" katsuki asks, voice quiet and low and small, enough for the boy in his arms. "far as i'm concerned, you're livin' the life."

you only laugh, smile while running a hand through katsuki's hair.

you'd say you are, too.