#I think i should get a septum piercing again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebottomfromhell · 3 months ago

Note

The upper moons reacting to reader with facial piercings, like nostril, septum, or snake bites.

Welcome to another episode of let's remember these guys are from edo Japan and so they don't like our culture! /j. [Except Kokushibou, that man won't be happy with anything less than traditional Japanese swordsmen 🫤]

Uppermoons react to your style, facial piercings.

Warnings: Piquerism (non-sexual, but still), Mentioned self-harm, Self-hate, Karaku is a bit horny, Gyokko being Gyokko, Douma being Douma.

Gyutaro:

Gyutaro likes to look at your piercings, a lot. He looks at every piece of metal in your face, wanting to brush it softly with his hands, a little shinny reflection in what would be an imperfection. He carreses every part, gently and softly, a part of him he thought only belonged to Daki, and sees you. He adores it, the opposite way he scratches the black circles covering his own face. He wishes those could be covered with pretty and shinny things. Then again, make-up does exist. Then again, why bother? He will be still be ugly, he will always be ugly, resentful and twisted. Nothing like you or his sister.

He could pierce himself, too. You have asked him if he wanted, as he always touches your face so tenderly, looking with yearning eyes the holes in your face. You specially love it when he carresses your lips as he brushes your snakebites (sometimes you sneak a kiss into his fingers) but "Nah, it would heal anyway. Still, it suits you. Ne." He can't explain it but... it does make him feel less lonely with his own flawed face.

Gyokko:

More than how you look with them, Gyokko likes piercing you. And damn him if piercing your face isn't a rewarding expecience. It took you a lot of time to trust him enough to bring a needle to your face, knowing he is good with them, but that Gyokko might be tempted to use it to pluck one of your eyes out, but you have been wanting a piercing on the surface of the cheekbone, and you would rather not risk doing it wrong.

You bleed from the needles, and Gyokko knows he would never do on purpose such a harm to his own flawless skin, even if he could heal. You should heal as well, but you prefer to expose a wound decorated as a piece of art. Would you be surprised to see that after helping you with this, he started piercing jewelry in some of his victims? "And there. Try not to move your mouth too much for now, we wouldn't want to re-open this, would we~?" But he definetely likes it.

Hantengu:

He is terrified by the concept of piercing one's skin and putting a jewel so the wound can't heal. He doesn't even know why he is so upset about the idea, his own skin would heal instantly if he was ever pierced, if the needle even manages to harm him at all. But WHY DID YOU HAVE TO PIERCE YOUR FACE?! Pierce! Your! Own! Face! "Hantengu, you are having another break down." He gets like this everytime you take the jewelry off, specially the piercings in your eye-brows. Does he genuinely think the hole goes up to your brain or something?

"So scary.... so... so.... scary..." Well, it seems it doesn't matter if that is the case or not, the holes make him uncomfortable anyway. He tries to avoid looking at them, but he always end up looking at them. Not a big fan, it seems.

Sekido:

Why? Just why? "Are you fuck- ANOTHER ONE?!" Another piercing in your face. Of course you got to have another one, he told you to give it a break. It's annoying that you have an obssesion with making holes in your face, then spend who knows how much money on jewelry to plug them instead of healing like a normal human being! Well... not that he is an expert of human beings, but his point stands. "So you don't like it?"

You asked him, and he only frowns. It's irritating how he feels a potencial lack of responsibility. What if it gets infected? What if you regret? Can you even heal that? He doesn't even know and he is not going to make himself look stupid by asking. He just doesn't understand it, the desire to hurt your own face and keep it that way, it worries him too, but he is too irritates to behave properly. Still... "You look ok." It's not of his bussiness, if you want to do it, you can just do it. He will complain, but know boundaries enough to know he can't do more than that without hurting you.

Karaku:

Karaku grins, why not? You look so sexy with those piercings in your face, and there is just something so kinky about it. Maybe is the coldness of the metal against him when he kisses and brushes your face, maybe is the pain, maybe it's the similarity it has to branding and tattoing. But still, he thinks it's hot, he thinks you look hot with those in your face, posing jewelry as if it was part of you. Probably is, so far. "Would you like to get a piercing on your own? I think a tongue piercing would suit you."

He would like to get one, to be honest, but he doesn't know how that would work. The holes would probably heal around the metal, getting it stuck, so he would need to rip his tongue open to take it out if he ever needed to. Also, he might not even get the jewel on with how fast he would heal AND Sekido would give him a lot of crap for it. "Nah, they suit you better hot-stuff. I'm content with seeing and touching your face." Maybe one day if he actually wants to start shit, but he will be satisfiend with you having the piercings for now.

Urogi:

"Ohhhh! Shiny!" Urogi touches your face a lot, specially the piercings in your nose. You more often than not have to tell him to not mess with the septum, he sometimes pulls it by accident and with the lack of control of his own strenght you fear he might rip it out. Still, Urogi is attracted to everything bright, he will steal the pieces if you aren't wearing them, and if you are wearing them he will keep himself all over you, resting and trying to toy with the metal in your face.

Because of his fixation you decided to to a simple piercing in his ear to try it out. It was a disaster. He scratches his ear an hour later and ripped the piercing off, so you will not trust them with ones on the lips, nose or anywhere in his face, even if he can heal. At least he tries to be careful with you. "I really like them, you know? You look very nice!" But well, no harm done to him it seems, he is happy with teasing your face like a pet wanting attention

Aizetsu:

So... humans like to pierce their own skin and plug the wound with accesories to avoid healing, and all because it looks good? That is so sad, specially in the face, where everybody can see exactly ehat they have done to their own body. Set an imperfection. Worst part, as far as he knows, the face is one of the places humans heal the easiest, it's you who insist to keep that hole open. It's a bit sad that disregard for your own skin, but then again, everything is sad for him, so it's not as if it's a big deal for him.

"Do you like it?" He has to ask, even if he already knows the answer. Of course you like it, you would not have them in your face if you didn't. Still, he likes to hear you day it. "Yeah, I do. This is the image of me I like to see in mirrors. The me I want others to see." And so he can accept it with less grief, with the love you have for them. So he can feel less or more sad about it, depending on his mood. "I like it too, but don't get too much more, ok?"

Nakime:

Nakime states at you, quietly, hands still on her biwa. Now, she is not judging, she is just trying to understand. You have a fair face, easy on the eyes, to say at least, or at least that is what Namike thinks. "Why put holes on it?" She asks you after a while, you recently got another piercing, so she had she had to voice her curiosity. The only thing she ever did to her own face was a very little make-up (when she had make-up, that's it. Her husband did use it to gamble or trade for alcohol sometimes, she remembers with resentment), so the idea putting holes in it gives her a bit of an ick, even if she does like any jewelry.

"I don't know. I just like it." You answer honestly, and to be fair? It does suit you, it does suit you a lot. She would never let you bring a needle to her own face, even if she can heal, but Nakime can let her own biad aise to know... you like it, and she isn't meant to have an opinion in what you do with your body. "Good answer." She comments softly before focusing again on her biwa.

Akaza:

Akaza is no stranger to needles, not completely. He doesn't know why, but sometimes he looks at his wrists and has the sensation of needles pushing into them. Weirdly enough, it's only there when he has tattoos spread all upon his body, but he can't help but wonder... does it tickles and stings the same way your piercings do? Or is at a completely different feeling, let it be because the difference of place or purpose? He has marks on his face, and you have yours.

He doesn't know why his face is marked the way it is, maybe there isn't a motive at all, it's just how it is. But you? You have metal and holes in yours, wounds that could heal in just a few weeks with the peoper care. He is captivated by this choice of endure just because you like it. "I like your new piercing. It suits you." And that is enough to enjoy the pieces as part of you, as something as it's as part of you as your flesh. "Thanks." Because it makes up the ypu you want him to see.

Douma:

Douma is curious about the concept, humans are such a delicate species, for he can't tell if it's fitting or not for them to walk around with holes in their bodies. After all, with their, or rather lack of, healing abilities, a hole made in their bodies is meant to stay open, he would know. He does, sometime, keep some pretty corpses as decoration, having to take care of them so they don't start smelling and rotting, but holes do look pretty in the body. Now, plugging them with shinny metals seems like a even nicer idea! How come he didn't come with it by his own? Even more in the face, where everybody can see that a needle went through the skin as a performance, as decoration.

"They look endearing on you, darling." He compliments, as he is genuinely interested. He has your attention, and he knows it, so one day he asks you to pierce his eyebrow, nose and lips, only to pull the pieces of metal out of his body the second the skin closed against them, smiling at you, as it was only to show the difference between you too. Yet he never stopped complimenting you and asking for more, later you find out he uses those piercings he never gives back to mark his victims. "These jewels are beautiful, I definetely see them as so human. Let me carress your face, Y/N." And you do, because he is so gentle and loving. You can't even stop to wonder if it's fake or not.

Kokushibou:

You pierced your face... you pierced it. You have literal holes in it which you plug with metal... that is something that you currently do, and actually walk around with holes in your face when you take the metal off for whatever reason. [You guessed, he hates this one too.] He needs time to think. [He needs to take a nap, he is too old for this 🤣]. It's just that when he was human, your face had to be flawless. Marks and scars on one's face were not seen kindly, he would know. Why would the world become more tolerant now? He doesn't get it nor like it.

Still, you seem happy with those pieces of junk in your face, even the one in your mouth and nose. He can't imagines how talking and breathing would even feel with a hole every time you take the jewelry off. It gives him an ick, so he does prefer you having the piercings on than going around without them. He never comments on it, but you can tell, as subtle as he is... he doesn't like them.

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #hantengu #akaza #gyokko #sekido #karaku #aizetsu #urogi #gyutaro #daki #nakime #douma #kokushibou

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year ago

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Suit | Hobie Brown

Y/N sees Hobie in a suit for the first time. It goes... well.

18+

It had taken me at least 20 minutes to assemble the perfect jewelry set to go with my dress. Admittedly, the dress itself was boring. A deep maroon, with billowy sleeves and a tight bodice. Since the dress was so simple, I felt the need to adorn myself in gold jewelry. Earrings up and down both ears, multiple necklaces of varying lengths and textures, bracelets that clanged together in a satisfying way as I moved, and a gold hoop through my septum that was delicate and only noticeable up close.

"Perfect," I whispered, stepping away from the mirror to admire my appearance. It had been a while since I'd gotten so dressed up. My free time was either spent on the couch out in the living room, exercising (which I hated, but had a life-long compulsion to do), or doing whatever Hobie wanted to do.

Tonight was a first for us both. First wedding together. First formal event. First time Hobie was meeting my family.

"Well?" I heard Hobie say from behind me. He appeared in the doorway, and I could see him in the mirror before me.

My jaw fell to my lap.

Hobie, usually dressed in tight jeans, ripped t-shirts and studded jackets, looked entirely unlike himself.

He wore a suit - an honest to god suit - dark blue with silver trim. Underneath, he wore a gray, knitted vest over a white button up shirt. Everything was perfectly tailored to suit him, courtesy of my parents. The pants hung perfectly above a pair of gray dress shoes that I knew were pinching his toes. His shoulders looked broad and strong, his waist tantalizingly thin, and I stood up to get a good look.

"Wow," I replied in a whisper. The clean, sharp suit was in a delicious contrast with his facial piercings, and the tattoos creeping up over the collar of the freshly pressed white shirt.

He spun around, arms out to his side. "Well?" he asked again.

I glanced down at the watch dangling on my wrist. 11:30. We didn't need to be there until 1, which meant we had a little time before we needed to get in a cab.

"I don't think I can wait until after to fuck you," I replied, and Hobie's pierced eyebrows raised towards his hairline.

"That so?" he asked, already charging towards me. "Don't wanna mess up the suit."

"We'll be quick," I replied, meeting him in the middle of a room for a kiss that guaranteed I would need to re-apply my make up before leaving.

We weren't as quick as we thought we would be, but by 12:15, we were in a cab and only set to be a minute or two late. I buttoned the top button on Hobie's shirt and he smirked down at me.

"Should I wear a suit more often?" he asked.

Flashes of passionate kisses, Hobie ripping my underwear off, entering me without either of us taking any other clothes off, flashed across eyes, and I clenched my thighs together, well aware a cab driver was listening to us.

"I'm worried you'll attract too much attention," I replied with a teasing smile.

He put two fingers under my chin, and tilted my head up to his. He pressed a gentle kiss on my freshly lined lips, and one on my powdered nose.

"Yours is the only attention I want."

#Hobie brown #Hobie brown smut #Hobie brown fic

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shawnxstyles · 2 years ago

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prank? more like spank

DATE: JANUARY 28, 2023

summary: after a day out with your friends, they convince you to prank your boyfriend tom that you got a vaginal piercing. once you break the news, he has to see for himself.

request: yess

words: 3.6k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [pussy spanking, clit play/edging, masochism, slight nipple play], dirty talk, aftercare) language, and fluff.

note: THIS TITLE IS SO FUNNY PLEASE. the gif is so random too 😭 sorry i’ve been so inactive, i’m so busy!! tom masterlist

soft dom!tom

—

“What if I just got a tattoo?” You ask spontaneously as you approach the tattoo and piercing shop. You and your friends were wandering around town, having a much-needed girl day. The two girls stare at you for a moment before giggling hysterically.

“You hate pain and plus, Tom would freak!” Alina laughs harder at your ridiculousness. She had a few simple tattoos herself; small ones on her hands and elegant drawings on her arms. Her black hair was long and sleek, always looking on-point. Even though her tattoos fit her beautifully, it didn’t convince you to get one. You could never get a tattoo, even if you were paid.

“What about a piercing?” You suggest. You have had your lobes pierced since you were young, but you’ve never desired anything else. Nose and lip rings were trendy when you were in high school, but you never understood why anyone would ever put metal inside of their face, let alone the more sensitive parts of their body.

“Again, your pain tolerance is very low,” Alina says, swinging her small bag of leftover food from lunch. “Did you know people pierce their vaginas?”

“Of course. I’ve considered it,” Reyna nonchalantly inserts. You and Alina gawk at her, dumbstruck because she’s never mentioned anything like that before. One thing about Reyna was that she always surprised you; there was always something you didn’t know. One day, she said she was getting a tattoo, so she did. Another, she said she was going to Venice, so she did. In a way, she was very good at keeping her word, which made her a great friend.

Her body was littered in tattoos from top to bottom. Her drawings were thick, dark, and colorful along her naturally tan skin. Her ears were engulfed in pieces of jewelry, while her nose held a septum and two opposing studs. How did she breathe? Her red-dyed hair was frizzy and wavy and shaped her face just right. Her eyes were a hazel, but could easily pass for a shade of green.

“What does it even pierce? Where does the jewelry go?” You ask, trying to imagine how painful it would be on a scale.

“Your clitorus,” Reyna answers, sipping from her straw casually.

“That’s like the most sensitive part!” Your face screams in horror. Why would anyone ever do that to themselves? You feel your legs clench in protection like you can feel the blinding pain just picturing it.

Unfathomable out of ten you decide on when thinking back to the scale.

“I don’t think you could pay me to get that done. Even if I could have it removed,” Alina shakes her head in disapproval.

“When I told Riker I was thinking about it, he was freaking the fuck out. He was trying to be supportive, but I can tell he was scared,” Reyna chuckles. Her boyfriend was the complete opposite of her. She is sociable and outgoing, and is always at someone’s place to party. Riker, her boyfriend of eight months, was a homebody who played video games in his free time. Their largest sharing characteristic is that they are extremely hardworking, which led them to meet while working at the same job.

Ah. Romance.

“I can’t even imagine how Tom would react,” You say, eyes wandering the ground.

“You should see,” Alina suggests.

“What do you mean?”

“Tell him you got a piercing. See what he says,” Reyna adds for clarification.

“Oo, you should record it!” Alina claps giddily and you laugh at their ideas. You shake your head at the recording part, but heavily consider the main idea. Why not have a little fun? You turn over your shoulder and peer at the tattoo and piercing shop that fades in the distance as you continue to walk. Your sundress flows in the spring breeze as you bite your lip.

“Okay,” You shake your head, somehow convinced to play a stupid joke on your innocent, loving boyfriend.

“Ah, how I love a good prank,” Reyna smiles to the sky as you all approach the car.

—

When the girls drop you home first, you wave goodbye to them and then head straight for the door. The sun was beginning to set in the evening, and you wondered what Tom had been doing all day.

“I’m back!” You shout, removing your shoes and hanging up your purse. His response echoes from the kitchen and you walk toward him with nerves.

You weren’t the most convincing liar, so trying to pull off a prank was going to be difficult. Your fingers fiddle anxiously as he turns around from the stove to face you. A soft smile curls on his lips and your insides melt. However, your heart races in extreme nervousness because he looks so innocent and unknowing.

Oh, he’s so going to fall for it.

“Hey, baby. How was your girl’s day?” Tom’s hands slide under your arms and hug you securely. His lips press a firm and tender kiss on your forehead and you sigh softly.

“It was… exciting,” Your eyes sparkle as you stare at him. He looks at you, patiently waiting for you to continue. But you don’t, you wait for him to ask.

“What was so exciting, love?” He delicately brushes the wispy hair from your face, admiring every one of your facial features. Tom was so in love with you, he couldn’t help but stare in disbelief that you were really his.

“I got a piercing!” You smile widely as you squeeze Tom’s biceps in exaggerated excitement. Tom raises his eyebrows, not expecting you to say that. He always just assumed you went out for lunch or went shopping. He would have never assumed you got a piercing, especially knowing how much you hate unnecessary pain.

“You did? Where?” Tom smiles as he curls your hair behind your ears, scouting for the nonexistent jewelry. His eyebrows scrunch when he searches your face as well, but doesn’t find anything.

“It’s on my clit,” You whisper sweetly, biting your lip. Your heart pounds in your chest and you’re hoping he can’t feel it. You tried your best to hold in your laugh at his reaction.

Tom’s eyes widened so much, you thought they were going to pop out of their sockets. He blushes profusely and pulls away from you, cheeks a rosy pink as his jaw practically slides along the kitchen tile. He dryly coughs, trying to hide how flabbergasted he is.

You smile wider and harder, trying not to break your act. Seeing Tom so shocked makes you want to burst out laughing at how easily he fell for it. He knows you absolutely hate pain, yet he still believed it.

“I-I thought you hated pain…” He starts breathily, “What…how…?”

“Reyna convinced me. She said it feels great when having sex,” The lies spill from your mouth before you could even process what it meant. Did that even make sense?

Tom blinks rapidly, mind racing at the change. He didn’t even know that one could get their clit pierced. He never would have thought you would want to get yours done. He remembers early on in your relationship when you told him you cried the entire time when you got your ears pierced. And when you got your shots at the doctors. He even remembers you telling him you cried when you first had sex… but that was understandable. But being reminded of that just makes him even more confused on why you would get something so painful.

You must have cried a lot, he thinks. His heart aches a tad because he wasn’t there for you.

“Well… can I see it?” Tom tries to cool down his burning red face, but it only seems to intensify as he imagines seeing it; your clit irritated and puffy as a bar of metal sears through it.

Now, it was your time to widen your eyes. You tried to hide it by wandering your eyes all over the place, but if anything, that just made it more obvious you were hiding it. Tom contorts his face in mild confusion at your hesitation as you laugh nervously.

“Y/N, can I see the piercing?” He repeats, stalking a bit closer to you.

“No!” You deny too quickly, backing away from him like he was psychotic.

“No? Baby, I’m going to see it eventually. Might as well see it now,” He smiles, reassuringly as you struggle to come up with more lies. Why did you think he wouldn’t want to see it?

“It’s um… really swollen and puffy. You can’t even see it,” You shake your head as you wave it off, swallowing your nerves dryly. Tom skeptically squints his eyelids, puzzled at your sudden defensiveness.

“I can’t see it? How do you know? I haven’t even tried yet.”

“I looked. It’s like it’s not even there,” Nervous laughs release from your mouth and you would be surprised if he still believed you.

Then he quirked an eyebrow, sensing your deceitfulness. Your nervousness gives him a growing confidence. He licks his lips and clicks his tongue, a sly smirk threatening to curl up on his lips.

“Let me see it, Y/N.”

“No!”

Before you could even take off in a sprint, Tom’s arms are tightened securely around your waist. He drags your flailing body and hoists you up onto the kitchen counter, forcing you to stay seated. You wiggle profusely underneath his strong grip, but realize it’s no use compared to his thick muscles. You huff, annoyed that he captured you.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself since you want to be so stubborn,” He grumbles as he crumples the sundress up to your waist. You hold your breath, hands gripping the counter. He forces your legs to spread, eye level with your panties. Your cunt aches as it begins to dampen the material.

“Is the piercing making you that wet? Or is it something else?” Tom taunts, yanking the flimsy fabric until it’s tossed along the kitchen floor. Waves of heat creep up your neck at how close he is to your cunt. He’s seen you naked a million times for your usual sensual, soft sex. But with a lie in between you, you don’t know what to expect.

Tom’s arms lock your thighs to the marble counter. He stares at your pussy, looking as gorgeous as ever. He takes his rough fingers and carefully spreads your soaking folds, inspecting for a piece of jewelry. You gasp as more arousal leaks out of your pussy, begging for more friction. As he gets closer to your clit, you whine from the teasing.

“Well, your clit is puffy… but I don’t see any piercing,” Tom pretends to pout like he hadn’t known you were lying most of the time. His thumb delicately taps your neglected nerves, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. “Why did you lie, baby?”

“I don’t know,” With clenched teeth, your eyes focus solely on his devoid touches. Your mind is so distracted by the tedious teasing, you barely comprehend his words. Before you could even reconsider your answer, Tom slaps his hand directly on your clit. You yelp as your hips thrust forward at the mixture of pleasure, pain, and shock that sears through your body. Your clit throbs as you continue to seep on the cold counter, more desperate than ever.

“Another lie. You’re being such a bad girl today. Do I need to punish you?” He questions, palm rubbing deliberately slow on the hood of your clit. Your body trembles as you roll your hips against his hand. With an upset growl, his hand comes down on you again, harsher and more demanding than before. A needy moan escapes you, your hands clawing at his T-shirt. “You just never learn.”

Tom tsks disappointingly and spreads your legs impossibly wider, juices leaking onto the solid surface below you. The texture of his hands roaming your skin created the most sinful scenes in your head. You imagined his thick digits pushing into your cunt, slippery and soft as he thrusts deeper and deeper. You mewled just at the thought, causing him to stare at you curiously.

“What are you thinking about? Hm? Answer me truthfully this time or I won’t even consider you coming tonight,” Tom demands as he flicks your pulsing clit, causing your body to jolt in surprise. Your hands squeeze his muscular shoulders as you try to remain still.

“Your hands. I love your hands,” You admit breathily. Tom slowly removes the loose straps of your dress until they’re slipping off your smooth shoulders and down your arms. He reveals your breasts, nipples pointed and neglected.

With a smirk, his dominant hand continues to deliberately stroke up and down your clit, while his other toys with your nipples. Your breathing heaves as your eyes gawk at his motions, getting more turned on just from the sight. He twists and pulls on your buds until they’re aching painfully good. Tom makes sure his hand tickles your skin when it trails down your torso to add more stimulation to your clit.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, darling,” One hand forces your legs open while the other collects your arousal too lightly. You clench around nothing, pleading for his teasing to end. He resumes his delicate tapping on your nerves, making you whine in agony. “Why did you lie?”

Your heart races and thighs begin to shake from being stretched out.

“I-I wanted to see how you would react,” You reply breathily as he repeatedly taps you. You roll your hips in circles, trying to get more friction against the pad of his thumb. He hums, satisfied yet evilly.

“So this is what you wanted?” Tom slots his middle finger into your seeping hole, causing you to gasp as if it was your first time. With all the teasing, you were sensitive to any little touch, grateful for what he was giving you. “Wanted me to freak out, wanted me to punish you?”

You release a nosy moan, clutching around his digit as it sinks into you deeply. You nod your head to every thrust of his finger, slow and tedious. As your high builds from the edging, his finger is removed from your cunt, empty and aching. You elicit uncontrollable whines as you scoot to the edge of the counter to get closer to his hand. His hand grips your hip tightly to ensure you stay still.

“No, no. This is a punishment, baby. If it gets too much, let me know, but,” Tom husks with a soft expression. When you nod impatiently, waiting for his next moves, his sinful glare returns to your eyes. “you said you liked my hands, so I’m going to give you one.”

Tom’s hand strikes down on your pussy, a wet slapping sound against your arousal. You squeak with a strong grasp on his shoulders as he smirks, pleasured from catching you off guard. He spanks you again, clit throbbing under the palm of his hand. Your stomach tightens as you grind into the air, begging for more. When his hand slaps you again, he makes sure to directly strike your bundle of nerves, making you tremble immensely.

Fireworks shoot through your body like you’ve never felt before. The sensation was a mixture of pleasure and pain; so shocking and blissful you thought you might pass out. You never would’ve thought you’d be enjoying something as agonizing as spanking, especially on one of the most sensitive parts of your body.

You felt hypocritical and pious; for someone who hated even the idea of pain, enjoying spanking was the last possibility crossing your mind.

But each slap of skin sent you higher into the sky as you floated with ecstasy. Even though you were inching closer to heaven, you’ve never felt more sinful and devilish in your life.

Tears slip down your face as you moan in euphoria. Your core clenches and your eyes roll back as you lose your grip to reality. Your legs beg to close, but Tom’s hand and body forces them to remain open.

“Look at you. Enjoying your punishment,” Tom tsks as his thumb rapidly circles your clit. You gasp with a cry, shaking violently from the blinding pleasure. “Are you going to come from me playing with your clit? Hm? From me spanking you?”

His words have your stomach tensing and mind spinning. You felt like you were flying through a starry haze; a dreamland where everything felt too good to be true. Your high builds and builds until you’re falling down so fast, you’re floating gracefully. Waves of euphoria crash through your body as your muscles spasm, chants of his name repeatedly leaving your lips.

A knowing and encouraging smirk is in your view as he rubs you out, draining you of your orgasm. The white moisture coats his hand before he brings it up to his lips and licks his fingers clean.

Your pussy lips pulsate as your clit continues to throb in irritation from the spanking. Your breathing relaxes as you blink away the glossiness from your eyes. Tom licks his lips, smiling goofily at you as he wipes away your tears.

“You did so well for someone who doesn’t like pain,” Tom compliments as he smooths your wild hair away from your tear-stained cheeks. You roll your eyes with a raspy chuckle and shake your head. “Let’s clean you up, yeah? And how was it?”

“I didn’t think… I never would have thought…” Your mind continues to blur as you forget the words on your tongue. Pulling up the straps of your sundress, you try to recall what you were going to say. “I liked it, surprisingly. A lot. Like a lot a lot.”

Tom chuckles at your enthusiasm and leans in to you. His lips lock with yours in a breathtaking kiss, rocking back and forth. Similar fireworks spark in your body again as you wrap your hands around his neck to sink deeper into him. His tongue slots into your mouth with ease, making you melt in heart-bubbling bliss.

To catch a breath, you release from each other, you now both wearing silly, fond smiles.

“This doesn’t mean you’re going to get a piercing… right?” With skepticism and hopefulness, Tom looks at you. You bite your lip, pretending to really consider it.

“I mean, now that I have an amazing tolerance to pain, I might as well. I have nothing to lose!” You push Tom away and hop off the counter with an overwhelmingly ecstatic smile. With shaky legs, you sprint out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

A burning sensation is felt on the skin of your vagina as your legs rub against the irritation surface. You hiss and wince as you make your way up the stairs. You regret running away from Tom because he said he was going to take care of you. Your skin screams in agony as you make it to the bed. You didn’t think it would be this painful, especially after he just spanked you. And you liked it.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He shouts as he jogs up the staircase. “Swear, she’s going to be the death of me.” He mumbles to himself before entering the bedroom.

He finds you lying on the bed, wincing with a pinched face. His expression softens as he comes to your aid.

“What’s wrong, lovie?” Tom rubs your shoulder, searching over your body for injuries. Your hands push down on the material of the dress right over your burning mound. He nods in sudden understanding before heading toward the bathroom. He comes back with a tube of some type of cream or ointment. “Lay back, baby.”

You do as he says and crawl back until your head is relaxing comfortably on the pillows. He slowly widens your tense legs and flicks the flare of your dress up to your hips. He takes a peek at your irritated skin, a deep frown on his lips. With the cream on his fingers, he very gently rubs it onto you. It’s cold, almost too cold compared to the heated burn on your skin. But the contrast cools you and relieves all your pain, causing you to sink into the mattress calmly.

“Better?” Tom asks, softly applying the medicine to the bare areas.

“Yes,” You sigh with your head thrown back, breathing steadily. Tom bites his lip, looking at your distraught figure.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I went too hard. I’ll never do it again—”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, Tom. Really, I liked it. I’m not lying this time,” He smiles softly at you and you return the favor reassuringly. He hovers above you and gives you a graceful kiss on the lips. He falls beside you and stretches to grab some tissues for his hands to clean off the cream. Then you two lay in the comfortable silence of each other.

“If I really did get a piercing though, how would you react?” You question, turning your head towards his.

“Probably the same.”

“Noted,” You smirk, causing him to turn his face in slight horror at your back and forth attitude. “Kidding! I can’t even handle moderate pain.”

“You’re crazy.”

You infamously roll your eyes before he kisses you again, making you forget everything. You laugh against his lips, causing the whole kiss to be a sloppy mess. In hysterics, you both laugh full heartedly as you pull away.

“Come on. Let’s go finish dinner,” Shaking his head, Tom gets up from the bed and begins to walk back downstairs to the kitchen.

“What if I got, like, a tongue piercing?” You shout from the bedroom. You hear him groan in annoyance as you follow him to the kitchen.

Oh, you loved pranking your boyfriend.

—

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fan fics #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #requests

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teenage-mutant-ninja-freak · 7 months ago

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if is it ok to request, what if April brought her best friend down to meet the bayverse turtles? But her bestie is goth/punk with piercings and tattoos? looks a little intimidating but an abseloute sweetheart?<3

love this idea, thank you for your patience as it's taken me so long to get to this x

Also this is 100% like my best friend, they're super goth and tatted up to the 9's but they're also a massive sweetheart

Leo

"hey, I have someone I want you to meet" April calls from the doorway to the lair

Leo knows who she wants him to meet, she's been going on and on about how this friend is finally in town and she would love to hang out, all of you guys together

he puts on all his charm

"And who is this lovely-"

then he sees her

lips, eyebrows and nose pierced, hair dyed in an acid green/black split dye, dark and black ripped up clothes, tattoos covering every inch of visible skin

"-wow" is all he can make out

she's the complete opposite of April looks wise

"No, keep going. You were about to tell me how lovely I look" she jokes. "Hey, I may not be barbie girl pretty but I bet 'ya anything I can kick your ass at call of duty!"

that softens the mood and makes everyone a little more relaxed

and she was totally right, Leo was fighting for his life playing that game with her

when it's finally time for them to leave she calls back "And if you think my hair is cool, just wait til you see what I can do with a paint brush, that shell of your's is going to put the Sistine Chapel to shame when I'm done with it!"

Leo just laughs, thinks she's a great girl

"Never judge a book by its cover" he mouths to April as she walks out the door

Raph

He knows April is there, he can hear her joking with Mikey but he can hear another woman's voice

he walks in to say hi and stops dead in his tracks when he sees who she's with

"......"

"Raph, it's rude to stare" April scolds

"It's ok" he friend reassures "I just have a natural allure that's irresistible to men and turtles alike, it would seem"

that makes him chuckle, she's funny, he's glad she's funny

"The, erm, the..." He keeps touching his nose, clearly indicating towards her septum piercing "... like a bull" is all he manages

"Well, I am a taurus" she quips back

he laughs again

tensions settle after that and he gets on with her like a house on fire

he asks her later what he first impression of him was, since it was clear he was taken aback by her appearance

"My first thought was whether or not you'd fit through the door frame, holy shit dude you're built like a truck!"

the rest of the evening is spent with a lot of joking and laughing, April's friend can give as good as she gets and Raph likes that

Mikey

He's so excited to meet April's friend

so much so, he's prancing round the place trying to get everything ready

when April walks through the door with her, he his jaw drops

"Devil lady!" he says in a tone which indicates he clearly thought that was a compliment

"Masked turtle man!" she replies with the exact same enthusiasm

the two of them bond over how cool she is and how cool Mikey is

comparing stories and boasting, all in good fun, until they both get a bit carried away

April has to put her foot down when her friend tries to give him a stick 'n poke tattoo on the kitchen floor

"It's not sanitary! Put the ball point pen away! He's gonna get sepsis!!!"

eventually they all retire to the sofa and play guitar hero, which April's friend does not do too well at

"I thought all you punk chicks knew how to play guitar" he says

"Nope, we just date guys who do" she laughs

After they leave Mikey is begging April to bring her round again

he still wants that tattoo

Donnie

He's not the best at meeting new people

but, he actually feels more comfortable when he see's April's friend is alternative looking

he loves a good social outcast because he is one

they bond over talking about the history of subcultures and the ecological impacts of fast fashion and why you should DIY all your clothes or thrift them

April is ind of just sitting there like "what have I done? Putting two nerds in the same room..."

When the subject of tattoos gets brought up she mentions a couple she regrets

cue Donnie and his inventions

"I have a laser remover!"

"No" April pipes up

"It's totally safe, it's just-"

"N-O! No!" she reiterates

her friend mouths "When she's gone" and winks at him

the two of them are fast friends

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #april o'neil #April's friend #Aprils friend #goth friend #punk friend #alternative friend #tmnt donnie #tmnt raph #tmnt leo #tmnt mikey #tmnt headcannons #headcannons

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dvrcos · 8 months ago

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Fuck it, what piercings I think aftg characters have

Aaron: one lip piercing (like Luke Hemmings old one idk the name) that’s a silver hoop, first lobes that are little black studs, left eyebrow piercing (also silver)

Andrew: septum, double lobe and a double helix on the left (all black jewelry), right eyebrow piercing

Neil: first lobe, he switches them to little Exy racket studs when they’re healed andrew got them for him

Renee: first lobe but she used to have an industrial and her nostril pierced but took them out

Allison: triple lobe that she is constantly changing to various cute earrings, double nostril piercing on the same side and she does double hoops

Nicky: only has his nostril, he cried and swore to never get another piercing ever again

Kevin: got one nipple pierced when he was drunk and they were out in Columbia and Nicky somehow convinced Andrew they should all go get piercings

Dan: first lobe and she wears little gold fox paw print earrings, a nostril piercing with a gold hoop

Matt: stretched first lobe piercings

Jeremy: eyebrow !!!!

Jean: daith with a silver star hoop (he gets migraines and wanted to see if it helped)

#the twinyards specifically with piercings is something that constantly plagues my thoughts #tell me your aftg character piercing headcanons please!!!#aftg #all for the game #aaron minyard #kevin day #andrew minyard #neil josten #the foxes #jeremy knox #jean moreau #dan wilds #matt boyd #renee walker #nicky hemmick #allison reynolds

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dix0nvix3n · 4 months ago

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➳જ⁀➴ 𝕯𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 ⟡ [𝔏𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔘𝔭𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡: 7/25/24]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 ℑ𝔫𝔣𝔬:

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'd rather not reveal my real name here so please call me Dagger.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm genderfluid and my pronouns are they/he/she.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm 22.

𓆩⚝𓆪 Even though I'm genderfluid anything I write the reader will always use she/her pronouns but potentially I may be able to write for a gender-neutral reader.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm a big time rambler/yapper so please dm me any time you wanna talk! (Please know that I'll often forget to respond or go through periods of time I can't talk though.)

𓆩⚝𓆪 I'm autistic and have an ADHD riddled mess of a brain which is the core factor of why I write so slow along with me being new to writing and not grasping it easily so please be patient with me. Trust that I have several wips at all times that I can never finish.

𓆩⚝𓆪 Another part of being neurodivergent makes it so that I have a harder time interacting with people here. I often don't reblog and sometimes I won't even like a post because I feel like I'm bothering the person who made the post somehow. My brain isn't very nice to me. I'm trying to get past this but it's hard.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I currently only write for Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead and Scud Frohmeyer from Blade 2 but I hope to write for other characters Norman has played some day.

𓆩⚝𓆪 My fics will always come with a warning description of some kind and if l ever miss something you think should be in the warning, please let me know!

𓆩⚝𓆪 I post edits @ daryldixonvixen on tiktok, if you're also an editor please tell me and I'll follow you!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔉𝔲𝔫 𝔉𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔰:

𓆩⚝𓆪 My favorite TWDverse ship isn’t even from TWD, it’s actually John and June from Fear The Walking Dead and my favorite Non Canon TWD ship is RosiTara. I don’t ship Daryl with anyone probably cause of how attatched I am to him so don't expect to see any ship posts. (Your ship opinions are valid though so don't come bringing ship discourse to my page. I hate Bethyl though and if I see you supporting the ship it's an instant block from me.)

𓆩⚝𓆪 I have 10 piercings. Septum, right eyebrow, a daith, a conch, a bridge, four helixes, and a left nostril.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I first watched The Walking Dead at a themed birthday party for it when I was in 7th grade when I was 13, we watched the whole first season and I wanted to continue watching once I got home but I couldn't find any way to watch it so I didn't end up watching again until December of 2022 when I was 20. The only things I could remember from when I first started watching were Glenn and the horse dying lmao. The show forever changed me and has become a major source of comfort for me and became my special interest, I'm just so mad it took me so long to watch more of the show.

𓆩⚝𓆪 I don't understand zodiacs too much but I'm a Cancer Sun, Scorpio Moon, and a Capricorn Rising.

𓆩⚝𓆪 My current hair style was inspired by Scud since I loved his hair so much!

𓆩⚝𓆪 How Daryl would help you on your period

𓆩⚝𓆪 Trimming Daryl's hair blurb

𓆩⚝𓆪 Convincing Daryl to wear reading glasses to help with his squinting

𓆩⚝𓆪 Music Daryl Dixon would listen to but it's accurate spotify playlist

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl running from the cops from a house party blurb/ inspired by Killing In The Name by Rage Against The Machine

𓆩⚝𓆪 Murphy Macmanus speaking multiple languages when dirty talking to you

𓆩⚝𓆪 Piercings that Scud would look good with ramble

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl with a reader who has multiple piercings

𓆩⚝𓆪 My Travis chai bot

𓆩⚝𓆪 The Summer of 1992 and What Came Before and After (Will be putting a link to a new masterlist for the series here instead at some point.)

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl and Norman Lightroom edits 1

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl and Norman Lightroom edits 2

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl, Sandman edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Daryl, Blue Monday edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Murphy, Carnival edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Scud, Can't Get You out of My Head edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 Multiple Norman characters, Hotel Motel edit

𓆩⚝𓆪 To see any of my various shitposts go into my search under the tag ;daggershitposts📣

𓆩⚝𓆪 And here's a Daryl and me face reveal moodboard. This is probably the only place here on my account where I'll show my face. This really shows why I wrote the reader from The Summer Of 1992 and What Came Before and After as alternative cause I myself am alternative!

#divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon x you #scud frohmeyer x reader #scud frohmeyer x reader smut

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piosplayhouse · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! I'm the anon who sent your that really weird ask about the ex situationship on good reads situation. So, updates on that! I think I turned my ex situationship into a cis straight woman?

For context, unfortunately I saw her some days ago and I couldn't even recognized her because she just looked so basic it threw me off so bad (now she wears contact lenses ew) , so I asked my friend about it and apparently now she identifies as a cis woman?? (she used to be non binary with a septum piercing). This created a huge fear in me.. I was the last woman she was with according to my friend.

So this can only be explained in one way: I WAS CONVERSION THERAPY FOR HER!! she was with me and she decided she hated women and decided to get on good reads which is arguably worse. Anyways, after this experience I can't be with a woman again.. imagine this happening twice.. im the next one converting.

I have no idea how to respond to this but I think it should be shared so I'll publish it anyway

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beauregardlionett · 8 months ago

Text

you've walked a hundred times before

AO3 Link

“That’s pretty much the lay of the land,” Lydia said, boosting herself up onto one of the plinths. She leaned back on her hands and smiled cheerily as she knocked her heels against the plinth supports. “Any questions?”

Mar hummed, shoving their hands into the pockets of their scrub pants. “How busy is an average night here?”

“Depends on a few things,” Lydia said, crossing her ankles and tipping her head to one side. “Usually the main driving factor is how safe the city is on a day to day basis.”

“Why would that change so frequently?”

Lydia went still, gaze zeroing in uncomfortably on Mar’s face.

“You have worked in a city before, right?”

“Yeah?” Mar said, hesitant. “During school I had placements in two different major cities.”

“Which ones?”

“Trenton and Philadelphia?” Mar said, failing to see how this was relevant.

“Hm, condolences,” Lydia said, pushing herself off the plinth as Mar made a face at her. “You probably only worked during the day, didn’t you?”

“You know many physical therapy clinics that are open after seven at night?”

“Fair,” Lydia smirked. “Anyway, my point is, Gotham is a fucking nightmare when it comes to crime and weirdo villains - sometimes during the day, but mostly at night. So, the more active they are, the less patients we tend to have. It’s kind of like when the weather gets bad and all the elderly people cancel? Of course, there’s always people who just do not care and show up regardless, so we never have absolutely nothing to do.”

“Hey,” Fariha called, poking her head out of the tiny front office. “I finished organizing the schedule for tonight since Jiro had to take off. First patient should be here soon.”

“Thanks!” Lydia said with a wave. She turned to beam at Mar, brown ponytail swinging and teeth blindingly white under the fluorescents. “I almost forgot to mention, there’s an emergency clinic across the hall you might have spotted on your way in. So if you hear any commotion, it’s probably them and not a robbery. If it is a robbery, Fariha has it covered.”

Mar blinked, opened their mouth, then closed it. They decided to just take that statement at face value and hopefully never find out the details.

“Do we take walk-ins?” Mar asked instead, gaze shifting to the door as it opened. An elderly looking Hispanic woman toddled in, grinning brightly as Fariha called out a greeting.

“Oh yeah, if we have room in the schedule for them. Most of them come in without scripts so I hope you’re prepared to do some detective work.”

Mar hummed again in response as Lydia moved to grab her rolling desk and laptop.

“Hi, Mrs. Jimena!” Lydia said, gesturing to a plinth in the corner of the room. “Got your table all ready for you. How’s that knee doing?”

Mar ducked into the front office with Fariha, shifting through the small stack of patient charts left out for them. The pro bono clinic was only open for five hours, starting at four in the afternoon and closing somewhere in the vicinity of nine. Lydia had said it depended on what their schedules looked like that determined how early or late they could close up.

“Hey, Fariha?” Mar said, leaning against the filing cabinet to face the cheerful front desk woman. She had a heart shaped face, warm brown eyes, and she hadn’t stopped smiling since Mar met her half an hour ago. Fariha had a slight accent that dripped like honey through every syllable, making her friendly disposition increasingly effective. Her golden septum piercing seemed like the brightest thing in the world under the dingy lighting of the clinic.

Fariha turned her rolling chair to Mar and hummed to show she was listening.

“Lydia said if the schedule is light, we could close early some nights. How does that work with walk-ins?”

“Oh, well, it’s been a while since we’ve gotten to close early,” Fariha said, leaning back in her chair. “But I think the policy is, if we have no one on the schedule, and no walk-ins for half an hour, we can call it a night. Since walk-ins aren’t on the schedule, we don’t lose productivity for closing. Besides, it’s pro bono so it’s not like it affects paystubs.”

Mar nodded, glancing down at the folders in their hands again.

“I also had a question about this paperwork.”

After Fariha patiently explained some of their general paperwork, Mar’s first patient came hustling in, on the verge of tears and breathlessly apologizing for being five minutes late. Between Fariha’s sweet reassurances, and Mar fluidly ushering the patient back to the treatment area, there was mercifully little drama to handle. The next three hours passed without further issue between Mar and Lydia’s patient load, which Mar accepted for the blessing it was. They had only been living and working in Gotham for around three weeks thus far at a hospital based clinic four blocks from here. Mar had ended up agreeing to do pro bono work because they enjoyed it during their time at school and it wasn’t like they had anything better to do.

They occupied a mildly shitty apartment two blocks from the pro bono clinic with a roommate Mar trusted to at least pay their half of the rent. This felt like an about average experience for someone who had finished graduate school five months ago and passed their boards a month prior. Gotham was a less than ideal place to work, but Mar leapt at the job offer that promised an income to start paying back their loans.

“Here’s the paperwork from Mr. Boyle,” Mar said around a yawn, placing the sheets next to Fariha’s keyboard. “Have you heard anything from my next patient, by the way?”

“I just got off the phone with her, actually,” Fariha said, scooping up the papers and placing them in her scanner. “She said she wouldn’t be able to make it. She has to take her mother uptown for some last minute appointment, so I rescheduled her for next week.”

Before Mar could say anything, the door in the waiting room swung open to admit a tall, broad figure wearing…a bodysuit? The man strode up to the window at the desk, beaming with a smile that rivaled Fariha’s and eyes shrouded by a domino mask with white outs. As Mar had told Lydia earlier, they worked in a city during school - so Mar was used to seeing a lot of weird shit. But this was…new.

Mar looked down at Fariha for some reassurance that they were not hallucinating, but she was simply beaming back at their latest entry.

“How may I help you?”

“I saw you take walk-ins,” the man said, like that explained everything about this situation.

“We do indeed,” Fariha said, opening up a new appointment on her computer. “What’s your name so I can enter you in?”

“Nightwing.”

Mar watched in stunned bemusement as Fariha typed ‘Night’ into the slot for a first name and ‘Wing’ in as the last name.

“Age?”

“How old do you think I am?”

Fariha chuckled and entered in a random birthdate that dubbed Nightwing as twenty-five years old.

“Gender and preferred pronouns?”

“Male, he/him, please.”

Fariha entered the information and submitted the appointment. A window popped up claiming the chart needed more information and Mar waited for Fariha to fill in all of the required fields as expected. Instead, she flagged a box next to a line of text Mar was not fast enough to read, pressed ‘enter’, and smiled over the screen at Nightwing.

“You’re in luck, sweetie, we have an opening right now.”

“Great!”

Fariha spun in her chair and stared at Mar. They were still standing beside her, baffled.

“Oh, yeah,” Mar said, voice cracking slightly. “That…that would be me. Uhm…”

Mar looked down at Fariha and then back up at Nightwing.

“Follow me?” Mar said, feeling absolutely delirious. They turned and exited the front office, waiting for Nightwing to join them before leading him to one of the few private rooms they had for evaluations. Still uncertain if this was a fever dream or not, Mar gestured to the plinth in the room for Nightwing to sit on and then glanced out to the floor where Lydia was treating her patient.

“I need to grab my laptop, I’ll be right back,” Mar choked out before ducking from the room.

Their laptop was conveniently located near where Lydia was treating her patient, so Mar snagged her elbow and gestured frantically. Lydia left her patient doing a simple exercise and ducked her head close to Mar, an eyebrow raised with confusion.

“Could you explain to me why a man in a mask and skin tight suit just walked in and Fariha filled out an appointment with little to no information and acted like this was a normal occurrence?”

Lydia’s eyes went wide and Mar had all of two seconds to feel relief that someone here was still sane before that hope was obliterated.

“You got a Mask in your room?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Mar whisper-screeched.

“This is pro bono,” Lydia said, as if that explained anything. When it became clear to her that Mar was not following, Lydia sighed. “Gotham has vigilantes, right? They can’t exactly use their insurance for medical visits without exposing their identities. So we have both the emergency clinic and pro bono for them and for citizens who don’t have insurance or have shitty insurance. Didn’t anyone tell you about the vigilante rules when you signed up for pro bono?”

“Lydia, do I look like anyone explained that to me before I got here?”

Lydia ran a hand down her face and made a noise of exasperation, like she was the one most stressed out by this situation. “Look, they’re just another patient. Do what you normally do!”

“And ignore the spandex and domino mask and the fact that everything about the conduct of this appointment is a severe breach of several APTA guidelines - sure.”

Lydia dropped a hand on Mar’s shoulder and chuckled. “It’s cute that you think the APTA has any jurisdiction here.”

Mar watched her walk away, resignation feeling like a rock in their gut. Rolling their table and laptop back to Nightwing’s room, Mar tried not to look affected by this development.

“Sorry for the wait, Mr. Wing. My name is Mar, and I’ll be your physical therapist this evening.”

“Please, Mr. Wing was my father,” he said with far too much seriousness. “You can just call me Nightwing.”

Mar’s face went hot with embarrassment, well aware they were being teased, as they locked the wheels of their table with more force than necessary.

“Alright, Nightwing,” Mar said, tone clipped. “What brings you in today?”

“My right shoulder has been bugging me for almost two weeks now and it’s not really getting any better. Someone I know used to get physical therapy and said it was great, so I figured I’d just pop in and see what it’s about.”

“You appear to be…working,” Mar said, hesitant as they looked Nightwing’s ensemble up and down. “Do I need to get you in and out quickly this evening?”

“Nah, it’s a slow night. Plus, I know some others are out and about who can cover for me.”

Mar decided not to think about that comment too much. “So, what happened two weeks ago that made your shoulder start bothering you? Anything significant or out of the ordinary for you?”

Nightwing tipped his face to the ceiling, seeming to contemplate the question before shrugging and smiling at Mar.

“Nothing I would consider out of the ordinary. Usual patrols through Blüdhaven and sometimes here in Gotham, swinging from buildings and lampposts, the occasional flip and somersault, and getting thrown around during fights.”

Mar had been typing as Nightwing spoke, putting everything in a blank note to try and parse through later, but paused at the last comment. They looked up slowly and really took Nightwing in, assessing his posture, where he was holding his weight, and what they could see of his expression. They had a process for evaluation visits, a systematic flow of questions that were considered important, that provided information for both prognosis and diagnosis. Mar had put a lot of time and effort into figuring out a flow that worked for them during their schooling, and was quite proud of the results.

But between Lydia’s comment about the APTA and Nightwing off-handedly mentioning getting “thrown around”, Mar was beginning to question how to proceed.

“What…what constitutes getting thrown around?”

Nightwing tipped his head sideways at Mar like they were the one saying something unusual.

“What do you mean?”

Mar unlocked the wheels on their desk and pushed it aside to stand directly in front of Nightwing.

“I mean people who practice martial arts get thrown around, flyers in cheerleading get thrown around, and they do it in a way that is trained and practical to their goals. How are you getting thrown around and is there anyone there to catch you?”

Even without being able to see his eyes, Mar caught the strange faltering of Nightwing’s easy-going expression. He only slipped up for a moment, plastering it back in place, but it looked shakier.

“I work solo most nights,” Nightwing said, clearly trying to seem unaffected and almost getting there.

“Okay,” Mar said, making a mental note for his social history and moving on quickly. “So what are you landing on?”

“Uh, pavement? Cinder block walls? Sometimes my feet.”

Mar was beginning to regret signing up for pro bono.

“Okay, so nothing great.”

“If it helps, I do have training and I land on my feet like…nine times out of ten.”

“It doesn’t.”

Nightwing snorted a laugh and grinned at Mar, their heights almost even where he sat on the lowered plinth. Mar had no idea if he actually was twenty-five, but if he was, that made Mar older than him by a few years. It hurt to think about him getting thrown around and having no one to help him up and no one to go home to. But that was a conversation for another day, when they had more of a rapport to go off.

Mar felt slightly ridiculous for thinking they would ever see this guy in the clinic again.

On that thought, Mar decided, fuck it, just do what needs to be done.

“On a scale of one to ten - don’t give me that look, Nightwing - on a scale of one to ten, ten being I’m calling an ambulance, how would you rate your shoulder pain right now?”

“Right now? Uh…three?”

Mar reached over to their laptop and typed his response out quickly. “What is it at worst and what are you doing when it feels like that?”

“Usually when I’m putting weight through my arm or swinging between buildings, and I guess…a six?”

“Does it ever feel sharp, stabbing, or burning? Or is it more of a dull ache?”

“Dull, like I worked out too much.”

Mar typed those pieces of information out, too. They stared at the lines of text, something like disbelief pinching their throat. It was always like this with athletes and performers. Their perception of pain was less about how painful it actually was and more about how much it affected their ability to do what they deemed necessary. Or how much they were able to muscle through and ignore the pain. Mar suspected Mr. Wing here was no different. These numbers were seemingly average pain ratings, but Mar already doubted them based on the comment about concrete.

“Alright, let me get a look at your shoulder.”

They took Nightwing through a quick exam, subtly making sure his nervous system wasn’t royally fucked before actually focusing on his shoulder. If he had any qualms about said exam, he didn’t make them obvious, instead going through every motion and test Mar requested. Then they had him follow along with arm motions, Mar watching his right side carefully for any differences or abnormalities, and kept asking him if different things changed his pain at all. After a few more tests for his shoulder, some of which were less than pleasant for Nightwing, Mar snagged a rolling stool from outside the door and sat down on it next to the plinth. They dragged their desk over and made a few notes on their laptop before pushing it away and looking at Nightwing again.

“Okay, so the good news is, you don’t seem to have any broken bones, and haven’t torn anything in your rotator cuff.”

“Awesome. Does this mean there’s bad news?”

“I wouldn’t call it bad news,” Mar said, twisting their fingers together in their lap. “But you’ve definitely strained your shoulder muscles. It’s not overly serious, but if you don’t give your muscles time to heal, your shoulder is only going to get worse.”

“I thought these things went away on their own,” Nightwing said, distinctly pouting.

Mar pressed their lips together and cursed - not for the first time - the quality of health education in public schools.

“Have you ever heard the acronym RICE?”

“Maybe?”

“It means rest, ice, compression, and elevation. There are other versions of that acronym that are more involved and updated, but there’s nothing wrong with RICE. Anyway, it compiles the basic ideas of how to best treat an injury to your musculoskeletal system. If you don’t do any of that, your injury will absolutely get worse.”

Mar gestured to Nightwing’s shoulder for emphasis and said, “that includes swinging from buildings, by the way, which I guess is the bad news. You should take a break or find a new means of travel that doesn’t involve stressing your shoulder. I’d also prefer if you were thrown into less concrete-like surfaces.”

“Define less.”

“Zero would be ideal.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I appreciate that,” Mar said flatly. “I’m going to grab you an ice pack instead of having you do exercises for today. While you sit there with it, I have some papers for you to fill out.”

Mar ducked from the room and came back a few minutes later with two papers and an ice pack wrapped in a towel. They adjusted the ice pack on Nightwing’s shoulder and then wrapped it up to hold it in place so he didn’t have to hold it.

“These two papers are what we call outcome surveys. They’ll give me more information on how this injury is affecting you so I know what to focus on in your treatment.”

Nightwing took the offered papers and pen to fill out. Mar pulled their laptop over and started compiling a list of exercises for him, putting more than usual in case they never saw each other again or in case it took him a while to get back here. As they were filling out the note in Nightwing’s brand new electronic chart, Mar paused the cursor over family and social history. They could make a few guesses based on what he said earlier, but they figured it wouldn’t exactly be ethical to not ask. As much as they had wanted to wait until they knew each other better, there was a high likelihood Mar would never see Nightwing again. It felt wrong to let him leave without asking. Plus, despite how far off the reservation from normal this entire encounter had been thus far, Mar wanted to maintain some semblance of sanity this evening.

“Nightwing,” Mar said, peering over their laptop at him. He glanced up, the white outs of his mask level with Mar’s face. “Do you live alone?”

The white outs didn’t move, but Mar could feel the way he was blinking at them, baffled.

“What?”

“I need to make a note about if there is anyone at home with you in case of emergencies. I suppose…given your situation, I don’t need a name or contact information. But it would put my mind at rest to know if there was literally anyone at home or within a reasonable travel distance should you need them.”

Nightwing was silent for a moment longer and Mar was beginning to regret asking, about to shrug it off and tell Nightwing to forget it.

“No, I–I live alone.” Nightwing’s fingers tightened subtly around the pen in his hand. “But I have…people I can contact that live here. In Gotham.”

Good enough.

Mar added a few more exercises to his list in silence, letting Nightwing get back to the papers. They sent the list to the printer and stood, quietly informing Nightwing they would be right back and to finish the papers.

Ducking into the front office, Mar went straight for the printer and ignored Fariha’s insistent stare. Flipping through the papers to make sure they were all present and correct, Mar sighed and turned to Fariha, crossing their arms and raising their eyebrows as a prompt.

“Is he nice?”

“He’s a mess.”

Fariha waved her hand dismissively. “Aren’t they all?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Mar said, voice heavy with sass. “I’ve never worked in a clinic unregulated by the APTA with vigilantes before.”

“It’s fun, right?”

“It’s giving me a headache.”

“You get used to it.” Fariha twirled back to her computer as the phone on her desk started to ring. She pulled a bottle of NSAIDs from one of her drawers and put it pointedly on the desk beside her. “You haven’t seen anything until you’ve worked the front desk at the emergency department overnight.”

“Sounds great,” Mar muttered as Fariha answered the phone with her cheerful, scripted greeting. Mar took their chance to exit and went back to the treatment room, ignoring the NSAIDs. Nightwing was setting the completed papers on Mar’s rolling desk as they walked in, the ice pack still in place.

“Here’s a list of exercises for you,” Mar said, plopping back down on the rolling stool. “I highlighted the ones I want you to focus on most and wrote down how many times per day and per week I want you doing them. And for the record, I’m banning you from swinging until your shoulder is doing better. If I see you swinging in this city, HIPPA be damned, I’m calling you out.”

“I don’t think that’s legal.”

“I’ve been informed the APTA holds no power here, so I’ll take my chances.”

Nightwing glanced up from his papers in surprise, the white outs of his domino mask widening slightly. “Are you not from Gotham?”

“No, I just moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Oh. That’s surprising.”

Mar glanced up from where they had been typing, eyes narrowed. “Why’s that?”

“You just seemed so calm and unfazed by all this. Usually people who aren’t from Gotham are more…freaked?”

“I have an uncanny ability to tolerate the shit that could only happen in a city,” Mar said in monotone. “I went to graduate school in a city - it’s a survival tactic.”

“Understandable, I suppose,” Nightwing hummed, folding up the sheet and spiriting it away somewhere on his suit. “Still impressive.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Mar stood, closing their laptop before freeing the ice pack from Nightwing’s shoulder. Leaving it on the plinth next to him, they gestured to the door.

“Before I walk you out, do you have any other questions for me?”

Mar was used to patients brushing that off, or immediately firing back with questions about surgery, imaging, or other healthcare visits they might need. It usually provided good insight on how the patient thought the visit went, whether they trusted Mar or not at the end of the session. But Nightwing sat quietly for a long moment, actually contemplating something.

Eventually, he asked, “that comment you made about not swinging until you cleared me, were you serious?”

Mar’s first thought was that’s a stupid question, of course I was serious. Their second thought was why did he ask me that?

“I was. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just…usually B is the only one telling me not to do something for my health and safety.”

Mar pulled their stool back over and sat down again. “Who is B?”

“He’s…” Nightwing paused long enough that Mar began to wonder if he was giving them the silent treatment, hoping they would move on. “Someone I work with.”

“And how well do you follow B’s advice, if I might ask?”

Nightwing immediately turned sheepish, grinning and scratching the back of his head.

“Admittedly…not well.”

Mar exhaled a sharp breath that sounded halfway like a laugh. Leaning forward, they propped their elbows on their knees and folded their hands together, staring up at Nightwing.

“Listen, Nightwing,” Mar said, serious enough to catch his attention. “I can’t actually enforce anything upon you. At the end of the day, your recovery is in your hands and depends on the choices you make. All I can do is provide advice based on the medical knowledge and expertise I have, and support you. So, I am strongly advising you to give your shoulder a break before you actually tear something and end up being unable to do the things you need to do, or require less conservative interventions. You’ve got a lot of strong muscles supporting the joint, but you’re stressing something that’s trying to heal and those other muscles can only do so much. Does that make sense?”

Nightwing nodded, shrouded gaze locked in on Mar. They nodded back and asked again, “any other questions?”

“Nope.”

“Alright,” Mar stood, brushing their hands down their scrub pants and gesturing for the door again. “I’ll walk you out.”

They went to the front desk together, standing at the window to schedule a follow up with Fariha. She explained the cancellation policy to Nightwing and said that if he was unable to keep a scheduled appointment, he could walk in again and they would do their best to get him on the schedule. Mar was fairly certain that was strictly a vigilante policy but they didn’t say so. For all they knew, it probably applied to other patients here, too.

Once Nightwing was set up, Mar walked him out into the short hallway that joined the pro bono clinic with the emergency clinic.

“Thanks again, Mar,” Nightwing said with a grin. He turned to go and Mar couldn’t hold back their last niggling concern any longer.

“Nightwing? I have one more question for you, if you want to answer it that is.”

He turned back to them, seeming nervous but still grinning.

“Earlier, you said that B was the only one who gave you health advice. You seemed surprised about something I consider a routine part of my job.” Mar paused, chewing at the inside of their cheek.

“There really is no delicate way to frame this question. Have you been neglected by other healthcare professionals? Because if you have, we can report them. I could submit anonymous information to the HR department if they’re within the hospital system and I can’t guarantee anything drastic will come of it, but the complaint would still be in the system and–”

Nightwing stepped forward and held his hands up toward Mar. “Whoa, hey. No, I wouldn’t say neglected. It’s just that this system of anonymity for vigilantes wasn’t always a thing, y’know? It’s only come about in the last few years, so it takes some getting used to. The system failed a lot of the vigilantes I know, so even with things like HIPPA and PHI in place, it’s not easy to show up and trust healthcare will keep us anonymous and treat us unbiased. And some of the people I’ve seen think we’re a little…what’s the word? Invulnerable? Like we’re all Superman and can heal quickly.”

“Well that’s stupid.” Mar immediately put a hand over their mouth, flinching. “Sorry, that was unprofessional.”

Nightwing laughed, short and loud. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head, still grinning broadly.

“You’re not wrong. But my point is, I appreciate you treating me like I’m a normal human despite uh…” Nightwing gestured to his ensemble. “This.”

“Until you stop being human, you’re going to be treated like one,” Mar said solemnly, making Nightwing chuckle again.

“I appreciate it.” Something at his wrist beeped and Nightwing grimaced, starting for the door. “Sorry, I really have to go now.”

Mar waved him off and called out, “no swinging, and don’t forget to do your exercises!”

“Sure thing!” Nightwing called as the automatic doors slid shut behind him.

Mar walked back into the clinic, already wondering how the hell they were supposed to document this visit. Fariha and Lydia were inside the front office, Lydia’s patient having left during Nightwing’s visit. They both nearly leapt through the door as Mar entered, figuring they should just get the interrogation over with before they sat down to document.

“Was that Nightwing?” Lydia squealed, eyes sparkling. “Was he nice? Is he as hot as the blog posts claim? How did his butt look?”

Mar made a face at Lydia’s questions, holding their hands up to fend her off.

“Yes, yes, subjective, and I was treating his shoulder, not his ass.”

“He seemed like a very pleasant young man,” Fariha said with a sigh. “I wish my boyfriend was as charming as him.”

“Fariha, your boyfriend is a computer engineer, a massive geek, and plenty charming,” Lydia said without moving her imploring gaze from Mar.

Fariha put her hands over her chest and swooned in her chair. “And I love him dearly. But Nightwing has a different kind of charm - so boyish and sweet.”

“As entertaining as this conversation is,” Mar said flatly. “I need to write up his note so I can go home.”

“Wait!” Lydia whined, chasing after Mar as they left the front office. “I have more questions about Nightwing!”

“Morning, sunshine,” Raya chirped, almost immediately getting in Mar’s way as they walked into the clinic the next morning. The hospital was bustling already, despite it being barely seven in the morning, and Mar personally thought that was a direct insult to their exhaustion.

Mar grunted a greeting in response, ducking around Raya and making for the back office where the therapists kept all their stuff. Undeterred, Raya trailed after Mar, grinning brightly like the morning person she was.

“I heard you had a fun night.”

Mar, setting their bag down on their desk, paused and turned to furrow their brow at Raya.

“How the fuck did you hear about that? It has literally been twelve hours since then.”

“Fariha’s, like, my best friend. We talk shit together on Fridays during lunch.”

“Of course you do.” Mar shoved their bag to the back of the desk and swiped up their coffee mug, immediately making a beeline for the office coffee maker.

“So,” Raya said with emphasis. “You met Nightwing.”

“You did not phrase that as a question so I will not deign to answer it.”

“Oh, come on,” Raya groaned, slumping against the wall next to where Mar was persuading the coffee machine to provide them with something to live for. “You’ve got to have something to say about him. He’s, like, objectively one of the coolest heroes in this fucking city and he doesn’t even live here!”

“It seems like everyone who has asked me for details on Nightwing already knows more about him and his ass than I do. You’re just looking for me to confirm some preconceived parasocial ideals, and it is far too early for that.”

“That’s a lot of bold talk for someone who had a five year long ‘delulu’ K-pop phase.”

“One, it was a coping mechanism. Two, I never developed a parasocial relationship about it. And three, Mamamoo is superior and you will pay for insinuating otherwise.”

Raya rolled her eyes and pushed off the wall to head to her desk. “Tell that to the collage of photocards on your bedroom wall, darling.”

“Maybe I will,” Mar said as the coffee maker sputtered out the last dregs of liquid gold into their mug. “At least they won’t talk back.”

Raya snorted an admittedly adorable laugh behind her hand and ruffled Mar’s undone hair as she passed by on her way out of the office.

“Whatever you say, champ. We’ll talk more over lunch.”

“As long as you don’t make me talk about his ass.”

“You’re no fun.”

#batman #batfam #my writing #writing #dick grayson #based off a CPS fic on ao3 #PT but make it batfam in gotham so it's a logistical nightmare #dc

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