#Is that you can clearly tell what material the each colored part is made of

[tulipsnflowers]

There's the pixel Metta! About time I drew him in his canon form lol

[alexanders-pokemon-adventure]

A little rain in every life must fall

Sera Frigga

Sera’s meeting with Victoria was … illuminating . There was no cure that could be administered to alex to end their endarkaning. It seamed that the only thing that reversed shadowfication in humans was an inner strength the sufferer had to summon themself… but . In those Sera found or Heard about healing from shadowfication , it was treated like trauma . The sufferer was at least in part, cared for by a support system That in time helped them find the strength to overcome the shadows . Of course, they were also conscious. Alex had been comatose for more than a mouth , with no sign that verbal communication was reaching them and sera’s psychic prob providing less than Successful . How could anyone give alex the kind of emotional support they needed when so far they’ve be Functionally unreachable. Alex needs strength .

An idea floated to the top of her mind , Alex need strength . ALEX NEED STRENGTH. Alex hadn’t been traumatize into closing their heart , or incidentally, exposed to shadow-type enegy contamination. Alexander is a conductor of energy thats how they took in the power that now comatose them …but could they take in energy to heal . At its very base shadow types and their powers where molded from trauma. What helped those who suffered trauma?

Care ,compassion, sympathy , therapy Sera thought to herself. What help poeple heal? Love , love was perhaps not a means to an end but love can be the pressure that stops the bleeding. Was or could love be something that transferred like shadow-type energy . A dote connected in Sera’s mind, was friendship, not molded from a kind of love?

It was an idea Prof. Apricot was unsure of , friendship was an energy that could be transferred from trainer to Pokémon to aid in evolution , could it be given person to person? How much would they need ? Could it be measured? Apricot had objections ,Alexander’s care team had objections but none of them had better options. Had any options anymore? With alexander’s condition, continuing to worsen .So as a way the quell her own mind and maybe The mines of Alexander’s friends Sera decided Play a game of cards. Sera was an ESPer a telepath, a telekinetic ,a psychic Who had learned a great many things in her 28 years. Had gone to Alexander’s house and raid their home for supplies. She needed blank cards for her next act for them to be made of materials tied to Alex to begin with. To look into the future in a way , her power would guide the images that shown on the blank card surface. Sara knew she only would have the strength for four. Four symbols to interpret from , four cards to Divine the future. So in a Break room , in the hospital Sera watched by Derek , Alexandria( @alex-ishvan ), and Prof.Apricot Drew her first card . It took form as she motioned with the card colors coming to life on earth surface, painted with her strength.

The hangman, a major arcana showing it before them.

Sera was surprised that it was not Derek with his impatience to ask the first question but professor Apricot

“ sera while I may study empowered humans, I will admit,” she paused, searching for the right words “mysticism, and other such practices are outside of my field of study could you explain what this means to me?”

“Each card will take on the appearance of one of the major or minor arcana of the tarot . Each Arcana has its own interpretive meaning that when looked at together can be used gather information, on top of that the The way I use my power to shape the images on the cards can also provide hints and context that the symbolism of each arcana alone might not have” sera explained

“soooo what do you think this means?” Alexandria asked

“A lot of things potentially” Sera said “ Submission, new perspectives ,trials sacrifice , intuition, among other things”

“ so what does the image tell you?” Prof. Apricot asked

Sera thought it was clearly Alex falling or being held up ,hanging by dark hands emanating from the cavity on the back of ...

Derek answered first” its Alex when they tried to Spirit Harmonize with their Shedinja Papyrus . It ended poorly they couldn’t regulate the amount of energy being taken from them and stoped breathing for a minute. Alex was lucky I was near by when they tried it. “

“So Alex … Alex tried some thing and it ended poorly” Sera let out a large sigh she did not like what it could mean, that this event

She drew another card A little tired this time.

Sera couldn’t stop her gasp as she placed down the three of swords.

“ what sera ,what dose it mean ?” Apricot asked

Sera explained One of the few universally negative arcana . It symbolized Sorrow and was associated with pain ,loss and death.

“What about the picture? “ Derek asked “dose it suggest something specific?”

Sera looked at the card for long moments . She explained the image could potentially be in reference to what Alexander and their castform Nimbus did in the greenhouse and that the sorrow could be in reference to that or…that event may have related to another or be in reference to a future sorrow.

She Drew another card ,more strength leaving her as she placed it down.

“Hey it’s us and Ellisa, Lynn, and Rai “ Alexandria’s said looking down at the card” what does the five of wands symbolize?”

“Conflict…”sera said

Alexandria did not like that answer “ I’m not fighting Alex again, if this means that it’s not happening”. Derek nodded in agreement as he mumbled something about who Rai?

“i’m certain it can be more than just conflict Alexandria” professor apricot said more as a question than a statement

“The five of wands doesn’t always mean a literal conflict and the conflict it’s referring to might not be one towards or against Alexander. They’re not even in the picture. But … we are “ sera said

“ could it mean we all have to fight some thing and who is Rai?”derek asked

“ he’s a ranger in Sinnoh , he and alex are friends, I think “ Alexandria explained, as she examined the card closer, Alexandria’s sharp nails traced the image “ the wand have smooth bells on them”

“ interesting” sera contemplated it The symbols and the image seem to conflict conflict and friendship. “What if … it could maybe mean Will fight for Alex” Sera did not feel convinced of that interpretation

Sara drew the final card

“ the Seven of cups” professor apricot spoke

“ it represents choices ,true answers, delusions ,some time great revelation and making decisions”Sera spoke

Sera went on to explain that the images on the cards generally represent possibilities ,different paths or a person imagining such things. Each cup holds a different path, A different choice ,a different possibility.

“Thats me “ Derek said “yes “ sera agreed “ The top left cup, usually hold the face of an Oracle or a loved one”

There was an expression on Derek’s face that Sera couldn’t read, she knew he and Alex we’re often more than friends in recent years but also knew it wasn’t something either had made any real commitment to. Sera knew Derek had other lovers occasionally and Alex still living in the endless mountains wasn’t ever lonely. Derek’s only response was to sigh.

“What’s with the glowing figure in the center? “ Alexandria asked .Sera thought Alexandria did so to pull attention away from Derek , which he seamed to appreciate.

Sera continue to explain the symbolism .The center figure usually represents a desire for understanding of one’s self . That It could potentially mean Alex is looking for something in themselves. The symbol on the top was a little stumping until Professor apricot mentioned that it was the symbol for Uxie and represented wisdom , her symbol shown two unown The letters A and I . The bottom left appeared to be Alexander’s home with the mountains in the background that could represent stability . The center left Image with a building with the name of Alexander’s company Al.co on its roof.

“ The center left cup usually represents wealth” Sara said.

The cup on the center right Bore the symbol of Victini and represented victory , but nobody liked that the unown that floated around the image spelt D.E.A.T.H . In the final cup on the bottom left shown a shadow Ho-oh.

“ I hate that thing” Alexandria spat out, Alexandria whose vision who had been better than theirs during the shadow storm had actually seen it in the sky’s those days .

“ it could mean calamity, destruction, rage, and evil”sera said

Sera was tire , but still need to finish the reading .

She knew the other saw her stare at the card for long minutes , saw her eye glow as she pulled as much as she could from from them though about all she had learned and gathered not just from the cards, but from Victoria from her psychic probe and from Professor apricots and Alexander’s care team. She took a deep breath before speaking and in a voice with more power than she felt spoke.

“ I think Alexanders coma and exposure to shadow type energy has forced them to face terrible grief and pain that’s so long as the shadows keep them there they are never going to wake up” Sera held up the five of wands “ I think those of us on this card and maybe others need to come together and… help Alex fight the shadows . Give them strength and with that strength I think Alex will be able to conjure or forage a way past the wall that Closes off their heart.”

Derek was the one to ask “if Alex can do that will they wake up?”

There was no hesitation in Sera‘s response. “Yes Alex will.”

Professor apricot was the first to jump on the logistics, and suggested that they contact Ellisa ,Lynn( @adventures-on-foster-island )and Rai ( @ranger-rai )as soon as possible. Sera rested while the others got to work. It would take time to execute their plan.

[murmurmurl]

long time no H♡L info??!??!?!?!?

I did mention that Toshiro and Seina both have siblings. WELL. I made up my mind about them. Neither has a name yet, but I have a whole leftover name list from when I was naming all of Helianthus. Toshiro has an older brother and Seina has a younger sibling. And uhm. So remember how I ALSO mentioned that I accidentally started thinking about another fan unit. That's because of them. These siblings are in another unit together. I actually already have a general theme and even their sekai in mind????? Somehow??????? All I'm gonna say for now is that it's space-themed. Because of course it is. At this point I might as well make a billion units for each of my interests (/nsrs), but uh ANYWAYS. Yeah. I'll try to design said siblings today, ALTHOUGH. I have like,, 3(??) other H♡L wips, but I just CANNOT stop, my brain is full of ideas and these guys are genuinely one of the only things keeping me going???? Along with my sister??????? Can you tell I'm super excited, did any of that even make sense, idc, I just wanted to say it.

AND. To not make this just me saying some random general stuff, I'll also share what's the idea for H♡L's sekai is FOR NOW. It can change because I. Am painfully inconsistent. Just a heads up – I'm not he best with descriptions, and I'm also not gonna really bother making it sound good right now, it's just to give whatever few ppl care about these sillies an idea of what it'll probably look like. (As I'm writing this, I realized I actually *am* trying to make it sound nice, but if it sounds weird. Hush. /lh)

I mentioned that I call it the overgrown sekai. Because it's, well, overgrown. As you could hopefully guess. The main part of it is an old stone structure, with some intricate carvings still remaining visible and even discernable, although everything does look like it's at least.. a few centuries old, no less. However, taking into account that it's a sekai, it probably isn't that ancient. Almost everything is pretty much overrun by plants – ivy spreading across the grey stone walls, grass (and most importantly flowers) breaking their way through the floor that seems to be made of marble, but it's too old, overgrown and at times dirty to be completely sure. The said flowers are a strange mix of forget-me-nots and sunflowers that may not quite make sense, but it *is* a whole ass other dimension, after all. There's plenty of light, despite practically no windows in sight, save for a few small ones. The reason for that being the roof, shaped like a dome, with holes in it that clearly weren't here by the first design, having appeared because of the stone collapsing over time. Unsurprisingly, the flowers are concentrated in the areas where the most light seeps through those holes. And speaking of light, the time here is always the same – late afternoon, with the season always remaining a comfortable sunny summer.

There's some furniture in the building, mostly along the walls, with the center looking almost like a flowerbed. That furniture seems to represent each of the owners of the sekai – an old desk made of dark wood with a quil and some paper thrown around it, almost giving it an impression that the owner left in a hurry. The paper has become a light yellow color over what may or may not be a rather long amount of time. Next to it – a somewhat fancy wooden chair. There are mirrors hung around this part of the space – some broken, some have the glass taken out entirely. Just a little further – a shelf and an armchair. Both items' materials and overall look fit that of nearly very other piece of furniture here. The shelf is filled with items that seem to have some spiritualistic significance – amulets, crystals and stones, all of them hand-made and hand-carved, yet seeming to lack in accuracy and having been made in a hurry. The armchair strangely has a few long chains hanging on its back. One of the more noticeable pieces of furniture is... a fish tank. It has no fish. In fact, it doesn't even have water, though it's probably not intended to be that way – the tank is spacious and has pretty much almost everything a fish would need to be happy and content in captivity. But it's old and worn out – the driftwood rotting away, whatever plants used to be inside have withered and everything is covered in a thin layer of... dust..? The tank itself stands on top of something of a dresser. If you care to open its doors, you will see rows upon rows of books – as many as could fit in the little space there is inside. Most of them have to do with marine life, but there are also some journals full of incomprehensible messy writing, as if whoever was filling them either didn't have much time, or was feeling too much emotion to care. Perhaps the strangest item in the building is a cage. It's designed just like one of those small restricting bird cages, glistening with gold in the light from above, but for some reason, the cage could easily fit a human. If you decide to step in, you might notice an unexpected aroma. It's vague and subtle, but... it almost seems like fresh black coffee mixed with something citrusy. Outside, the building is surrounded by a dense forest. The light can't penetrate the abundance of trees, but somehow, it doesn't feel eerie or threatening. It feels familiar in an unexplainable way. Have you already seen these woods somewhere..?

WOOOOO I THINK THAT'S ALL. I think. I hope I didn't miss anything. Uhm. I also hope it's not too,, out there, idk. There's also another area I have in mind, BUT. that is some world link territory, where I don't rlly wanna go rn,,,,, RAGHHHH I hope all of that sounds alright. Again, if it doesn't,,,,, I'm not a writer by any means, I just. Felt silly.

[honey-dewey]

So I spent the better part of the last three months (how long has it been since they announced Survivor?) absolutely throwing myself into a Cal Kestis cosplay because that’s what I do I guess. You can check it out on Friday on my Insta, honey_dewbear, but as I made the damn thing, I had questions! I noticed things! And I am sharing those things/questions with you all. Because, y’know, reasons. 

90% of his shirt (and presumably pant) seams are felled seams. This is both good and bad. Good because felled seams are incredibly sturdy and more likely to hold up over time, as they should in canon, so someone clearly did their research. Bad because I hate felling seams. It’s tedious and I hate it

I don’t think you all understand how desperately I want to know the canon materials used for Cal’s clothes. I have to know. I have to. I spent an hour looking for suitable fabrics. AN HOUR.

Why. Why. Why does Cal wear one sleeve rolled and the other down? Realistically I know it’s for east tattoo access but like. Roll the other one up too!!!

Cal’s gear padding is actually insulated with quilt batting. It’s very warm. And plush. And makes that leather thing actually comfortable. 

Cal’s sleeves have outer seams instead of inner. This is very annoying. Very very annoying. You can’t hide messy outer seams. 

Someone please tell me how BD-1 is staying on Cal’s back. Because there’s no grip, no straps, no nothing. 

fUCK FELLED SEAMS

Cal- Cal has- on his arm- he has-

Excuse me while I go cry

Words cannot describe how weird this pant material is. It looks like denim? But also canvas duck? I got canvas duck, but like what is it actually made of?????

Cal’s pants have leather patches on his ass. It’s probably to reinforce that commonly-used area. I think it’s just funny. 

There’s a red and blue patch on Cal’s left shoulder that I desperately want to know what it looks like. Does it have words??? What does it say????

Patch update because I found a real reference. It doesn’t say anything. It’s pure gibberish. I’m gonna vote that it’s a patch Cal found for that Huttese band because it’s written in Huttese. 

What the fuck is in all those goddamn canisters he carries around? Are they stims? Caffeine shots? Liquor? 

Someone please explain exactly what every single patch and canister and pouch on Cal’s outfit does/holds. I have to know. For science. 

tHE LITTLE ORANGE WATER BOTTLE MY BELOVED. I DIDNT HAVE ONE BUT ITS MY FAVORITE ACCESSORY PIECE

Unrelated to the costume but the concept art for Cal? Yeah he looks like a child in that. That’s a babey. I can believe that boy is eighteen at best. 

And we’ve come full circle to why the hell does Cal only wear one goddamn glove? AND ITS NOT EVEN HIS SABER HAND. 

The pink poncho is my favorite and I realized it’s the exact same shade of pink as two of the walls at my workplace. Crumbl Cookie Pink Poncho

Cal’s got a broad ass chest. Or maybe I’m just. Not broad-chested

I’m noticing very quickly that there aren’t many reference photos for Cal. Huh. 

Weathering this costume is gonna hurt because each sleeve took me a couple of hours. HOURS. 

Cal’s sleeve/shirt/pant patches are super funny to me because they’re thick and padded and to make them more comfortable for me (and also appropriately thick), I used bright pink fleece because it was what I had lying around. So that’s my new headcanon. Cal’s clothes are padded with a variety of funny colored fleece patches 

Cal has significantly longer proportions than I do (I’m short) and so everything looks absolutely tiny. But nope, it’s all right, I’m just not tall. 

It was at this stage in the game (just under halfway done) that I was debating making Cal’s glove by hand so the fabric would be the same. I will get back to you on whether or not I would soon regret this decision. 

The leather vest piece thing is my favorite part of this costume. It’s so cool!

It also stinks of foam and leather

Does Cal wear his pants cuffed? DOES HE????

Tried to make the glove and gave up immediately. Decided to just use the same one I had for Hera Syndulla. 

Cal’s pants are sectioned in a very odd way that I had a tough time replicating. Mid thigh seams???? I don’t understand.

Cal’s lightsaber is really cool, honestly one of my favorite designs in all of Star Wars, but, uh, how does he clip it to his belt?

We’re back to the fact that he has so many pouches and pockets and I desperately need to know what each one has in it. Does he keep little granola bars? Money? Tools? I have to know!

I’m still, literally still stuck up on what all the little identification rectangles on the shirt/belt/pant pocket are. Do they identify Cal’s clothes as his? Are they for funsies? A guild identification? WHAT ARE THEY?

[celestial-thoughts]

anniversary chapter 3: private photoshoot

coupon book chronicles part 1: anniversary Bayley x Dakota x Shayna General series warning: NSFW content, minors proceed with caution. Content warning(s) specific to this chapter: mild sexual content, teasing. chapter 1     chapter 2

Dakota swallows and blushes, wrapping the blanket tight around her. "Which one?" she asks.

Shayna carefully tears a coupon out of the book and hands it to her. Dakota reads it and blushes harder. "Why don't you read it for us love?" Shayna asks.

Dakota nods, cheeks burning as she reads. "Private photoshoot: pick out my outfit (underwear required, bra optional) and snap away. 1 hour time limit. Location and poses are up to you." She turns to Bayley. "Does this have anything to do with whatever is in that bag?" she asks, pointing to the shopping bag that Bayley is currently holding.

Bayley smiles and nods, handing Dakota the bag. Dakota looks inside to find four brand new lingerie sets, and she can immediately tell that a lot of thought went into picking these.

The first set is red and looks to be made entirely of lace. But it's soft, and doesn't itch against her skin. It's very clearly not lined, and Dakota can tell it's going to be easy to see what it's covering. Red is Bayley's favorite color of underwear on Dakota.

The second set is purple, and was definitely Shayna's pick. It's soft sheer material, and Dakota can tell that the fabric is going to cover less than most of her swimsuits do. There is a third set similar in material to the purple one, but it's pure white.

The fourth set is at the bottom of the bag, and Dakota looks up at her girls flustered beyond belief. It's pale pink and soft silk. But what has Dakota so flustered isn't the color or the material. It's the fact that other than covering her nipples and between her legs, it's not covering much. The underwear is pretty much a thong, and a pretty small one at that.

"So you got me four new lingerie sets just so you could use this coupon?" Dakota asks.

Shayna laughs. "Well, we were going to get you them anyways. But the coupon is an excuse to see you in them."

"Do you like them baby?" Bayley asks.

Dakota nods, smiling shyly. "I love them," she says. "Thank you."

"You're welcome love," Bayley says as she and Shayna wrap Dakota in a hug.

"So, which of these do you want me to start in?" Dakota asks Shayna.

Shayna thinks for a moment, looking at her options. “I think this one,” she says, picking up the white one. “You look like an angel in white,” she comments, making Dakota blush. She lifts Dakota’s chin up, looking her in the eyes. “Don’t be shy baby. You’re gorgeous,” she says. Shayna places the lingerie in Dakota’s hands. “Why don’t you go put these on and then meet us in the office?” she suggests.

Dakota takes the fabric in her hands. “Okay,” she says, swallowing hard. “I do have one condition about these photos though,” she says. “You can’t send them to anyone. They stay between us. I have a blank flash drive that they can be uploaded onto, but you can’t send them to anyone. And any photos you want to take of me without a bra on have to be taken on my film camera. I don’t want those on anyone’s phone.” She reaches down under the bed and picks up a wrapped box, which she passes to Shayna. “You can use this for the rest of them,” she says.

Shayna unwraps the box to find a brand new digital camera, one that she‘s been eyeing for months now. She looks up at Dakota. “Thank you, love,” she says, tackling Dakota into a hug and pressing kisses all over her face. “You’re so thoughtful.”

Dakota giggles at the display of affection. “You’re welcome,” she says. “So, do we have a deal?”

Shayna and Bayley look at each other, then back at Dakota. “Deal,” Shayna says. She picks up the bag holding the rest of the lingerie. “Come meet us when you’re ready.” She presses a kiss to the top of Dakota’s head.

Shayna and Bayley leave and Dakota drops the blanket on the bed. She carefully puts on the bra, which is tight fitting but not uncomfortable, her nipples pressing against the fabric which isn’t quite enough to completely cover her, so the sides of her breasts spill out of the garment. The underwear is actually a pair of tight boy shorts that are entirely sheer, except for the silk panel that covers her private area.

Dakota grabs her pink silk robe from the bathroom and wraps it around her, tying it in place. Then she makes her way down the hallway to the office where Shayna and Bayley are waiting.

“There’s our girl,” Bayley says, pulling Dakota into a hug. “We turned the heat on so you won’t be too cold,” she says.

Shayna joins them. “Can we see you baby?” she asks.

Dakota looks up at her with a smile. “You can already see me, I’m right here,” she teases with a giggle.

Shayna playfully rolls her eyes, smiling. “You know what I mean, silly girl. Can we see you without this?” she asks, running her thumb along the robe.

Dakota blushes. “I suppose,” she says. She unties the robe and slowly lets it fall away, revealing the lingerie. She turns slowly, letting them see her. “What do you think?” she asks, her voice shy and timid.

“You look stunning, love,” Bayley says, running her thumb over Dakota’s flushed cheek.

“Our angel,” Shayna adds, smiling at the way Dakota’s eyes light up at the nickname. “You like it when we call you that?” she asks. Dakota nods eagerly, and Shayna and Bayley smile at each other. “Beautiful angel,” Shayna says, kissing Dakota gently.

“Don’t tease,” Dakota whines, blushing as she looks down at the floor.

Shayna takes Dakota by the hand and leads her over to the window seat. “Alright love, are you ready?” she asks. Dakota nods. “Alright, let’s start here then.” Shayna scoops Dakota up and sets her on the window seat, sitting on her knees. She gently nudges Dakota’s knees apart and lifts her chin up. “Tell me your safeword,” she instructs, voice firm.

“Cardiff,” Dakota recites obediently.

“Good girl,” Bayley coos from where she is perched on the desk. “Such a sweet angel for us.” Dakota’s cheeks flush pink at the praise as Shayna steps back from her.

“Ready darling?” Shayna asks. Dakota nods, and Shayna snaps a picture of her. She looks at it and smiles, showing it to Bayley. “Gorgeous, love,” she says. She lifts the camera again, and Dakota sits back on her heels, pushing her hair back with her hands. That’s the moment when Shayna snaps the shot.

“How did we get so lucky?” Bayley asks. “Such a gorgeous girlfriend posing so perfectly for us.”

Dakota whines as the teasing flusters her. “You’re embarrassing me,” she says with a pout.

“Aw, what happened to your smile baby?” Shayna teases. “Can you smile for the picture?”

An idea forms in Dakota’s mind. “Make me,” she says, forcing herself not to smile.

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play?” Bayley says. She hops off the desk and goes to where Dakota is holding her hands above her head, fingers in her hair. Before Dakota is aware of what is happening, Bayley begins softly tickling Dakota’s neck and under her chin. “Are you ticklish?” she teases, watching as Dakota tries to keep her composure.

Dakota shakes her head, biting her lip as she fights to keep it together, cheeks flushed. “Come on baby, it’s okay to admit it,” Shayna coos.

Bayley brushes her fingers over Dakota’s collarbone, and Dakota‘s physical reaction is a dead giveaway about how ticklish she is there. “Oh, did I find the spot?” she asks. “It’s okay love, we just want to see that pretty smile of yours,” she says.

“Okay, okay!” Dakota finally breaks, giggling as Bayley’s fingers tickle her. Bayley quickly ducks out of the way as Shayna snaps a shot of Dakota smiling brightly, as residual giggles tumble out of her mouth. She drops her hands from her hair as she looks up at her girls, eyes bright and cheeks flushed and Shayna snaps another picture.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Shayna says, reaching out to help Dakota up from the window seat. “Blushing and giggling, looking so gorgeous for us.”

“I do not giggle!” Dakota protests.

“Oh really?” Shayna asks, raising an eyebrow. She quickly starts spidering her fingers up and down Dakota’s sides.

Sure enough, bright, high pitched giggles begin to flow from Dakota’s mouth as she squirms in Shayna’s grip. “Okay okay okay!” Dakota squeals. “You win!”

Shayna stops, lifting Dakota up onto the desk. “Can we do some without the bra on?” she asks.

Dakota nods, pointing at her film camera on one of the shelves. “Film should be in there for you,” she says.

“Okay baby. Can I take this off you?” Shayna asks as Bayley grabs the film camera. Dakota nods and Shayna unclasps the bra, setting it aside. Dakota lets her hair fall to cover her breasts, cheeks flushed pink with shyness. Shayna steps back and snaps a picture of her on the desk, legs crossed and chest bare.

The film prints and Shayna sets it aside to let it develop. “Baby, you look amazing,“ Bayley praises.

Shayna guides Dakota off the desk and gently bends her over it, the white sheer fabric of the boyshorts doing nothing to hide her butt from the camera. She snaps a few more pictures. “Alright baby, ready to change now?” she asks.

“Yes,” Dakota says, cheeks pink. “Which ones now?”

“Red,” Shayna says firmly, handing her the pair. “Then meet us in the bedroom.” Before she leaves, she runs her thumbnail over Dakota’s right nipple as Bayley gently pinches the left. Dakota gives a whine of pleasure, body shuddering for more. But nothing else comes as Bayley and Shayna leave the room.

Dakota quickly changes into the translucent red lace, her now hard nipples clearly visible against the fabric. She goes to put her robe on, only to find that it's no longer there. Shayna and Bayley must have taken it with them when they left. Her phone buzzes from where it is sitting on the desk. She opens it to find a text from Shayna:

Shayna: Are you okay with being a little more submissive while we take this next set?

Dakota feels her cheeks flush, biting her lip as she types a response.

Dakota: Yes.

Shayna's reply comes quickly.

Shayna: Okay. Use your safeword if it stops being okay. Here are your instructions: hair in a high ponytail, we want to see your face the whole time. Come to the bedroom. Sit on your knees in front of the door. Knock three times when you are here. I expect you to be looking up when I open the door so I can see your face. Do you understand your instructions?

Dakota: I understand.

As soon as she sends the message, Dakota feels her stomach flutter with excitement. This power dynamic is fairly new to their relationship, but she loves it so far. She quickly pulls her hair up into a ponytail, before heading down the hallway to the bedroom. She sits down on her knees in front of the door and knocks three times. She looks up, waiting.

The door opens and Shayna stands there, taking in the sight of Dakota in the red lace, hair pulled back, on her knees with her head tilted up. "Such a good girl, following directions so well," Shayna praises. She kneels down in front of Dakota and begins to trace little circles around her nipples through the lace of the bra.

"Shayna," Dakota moans quietly, shuddering under her touch. Her cheeks flush pink and she forces herself to maintain eye contact.

"Yes love?" Shayna asks, her voice light and innocent. Dakota's body shudders again and Shayna smiles. "Here's what we're going to do," Shayna says, continuing her tracing of Dakota's nipples. "I'm going to carry you in here and put you on the bed and then I'm going to let Bayley do this for a few minutes before I take more pictures. Do you understand?" Dakota nods, and Shayna gives her a stern look. "Words, Dakota," she says firmly.

"I understand," Dakota stammers.

Shayna smiles, giving Dakota a soft kiss. "Good girl," she says. She scoops Dakota up and carries her to the bed.

Bayley pulls Dakota into her lap and begins playing with her nipples. "Such an obedient girl, being such a good listener for us," she coos in Dakota's ear, making her blush. Dakota lets out a whine, flustered by the praise and Bayley and Shayna exchange a knowing smirk.

Bayley tweaks Dakota's nipples, and the smaller girl grits her teeth as she tries to suppress the desperate moan threatening to escape. She digs her nails into her thighs, breathing heavily as Bayley begins to rub small circles over her nipples, clearly visible as they press against the lace.

Shayna sees Dakota's nails pressing into her skin and shakes her head. "Baby, you're going to hurt yourself," she says, gently trying to take Dakota's hands into her own.

"I'm fine." Dakota manages to force the words out through clenched teeth as Bayley continues to tease at her sensitive chest.

"You're not," Shayna insists. She gives Bayley a look, one that very clearly is telling her to stop, and Bayley takes her hands off Dakota.

The loss of contact seems to mean so much more to Dakota, because she lets out a desperate whimper. "Don't go," she pleads, her voice barely more than a whisper, her eyes wide with panic.

"We're not going anywhere baby. We're just taking a time out, okay?" Bayley says, stroking Dakota's hair.

"Can I hold your hands love?" Shayna asks. Dakota nods, and Shayna gently picks up her hands. "Baby, this is what I was worried about," she murmurs, running a finger over the marks on Dakota's legs left by her nails. "If what we're doing is too much, you have to tell us so we know to slow down."

"No, I can take it!" Dakota insists, her voice rising in volume so quickly that she seems to startle herself. She shrinks into herself, immediately getting quiet again. "Please, I want to be your good girl."

"Baby, look at me," Bayley says, turning Dakota around on her lap so the two can make eye contact. Dakota looks down, and Bayley lifts her chin up. "No. Look at me." Her voice is firm this time as she stares into Dakota's hazel eyes. "This is important. Are you listening?"

"Yes Bayley. I'm listening," Dakota says, her voice nervous.

"You are such a good girl, Dakota. You have been a good girl for us all day. But we never, ever want you to put yourself through something that's too much for you. Being our good girl also means telling us when you need us to stop or slow down." Bayley holds Dakota's gaze, waiting for Dakota to respond.

Dakota takes a deep breath. "But it wasn't too much," she says quietly. "I was taking it."

Shayna wraps her arms around Dakota's stomach from behind, resting her head on the smaller girl's shoulder. "Baby, you were hurting yourself," she says, making sure to keep her voice calm. The last thing she wants is to send Dakota spiraling because she thinks she's being scolded. "We never want you to hurt yourself just so you can take what we're doing. We would rather slow down or stop entirely than have you hurt yourself."

Dakota looks at her girls, feeling guilt in the pit of her stomach. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to be bad."

"No baby, you weren't bad," Bayley says. "I promise. You have been so good for us."

"So I'm not in trouble?" Dakota asks.

Shayna presses a gentle kiss to the top of Dakota's head. "No baby, you're not in trouble," she reassures her. "But understand that you need to tell us when things are too much. You have your safeword for a reason."

Dakota melts a little into Shayna's hold. "I promise, I'll tell you next time," she says.

Shayna smiles. "Good girl," she praises. "Now, how about we take some more pictures?" Dakota nods eagerly, and Bayley and Shayna exchange a smile. "Alright love. Can you lay on your back for me?" Shayna asks.

"Yes Shayna," Dakota says, as Bayley gently moves Dakota out of her lap and onto the bed. Dakota lays down on her back, legs naturally spreading and arms coming up to frame her face.

"Such a good girl," Bayley says, and Dakota's already flushed face grows even warmer. "You look so beautiful like this baby."

Shayna snaps a few pictures, before reaching her hand out and helping Dakota sit up. "Hands and knees," she says. Dakota nods, shifting to get on her hands and knees, as Shayna takes a few more pictures. "How are you feeling Kota?" Shayna asks between shots, coming up to sit next to her on the bed.

"Like if I don't have someone's hands on me soon I'm gonna lose it," Dakota replies, the blush on her cheeks deepening as it spreads down her neck.

"I'll tell you what. You be a good girl while I take some pictures of you without this on," Shayna begins, hooking a finger around Dakota's bra strap. "And you can have our hands on you however you want."

"Deal," Dakota says, eyes shining bright.

Shayna unhooks the bra, and lets it drop to the bed. She lifts Dakota's chin, and snaps a shot of the smaller girl on her hands and knees head tilted up. She gets another shot, this time of Dakota on her knees, hands behind her head.

“Alright love, you’re such a good girl,” Shayna says. “How do you want our hands on you?” she asks, setting the film camera aside.

Dakota lays back against the pillows, and her girls join her, one on each side. "Just make me feel good," she whispers. "Please."

"Okay darling, we'll do that," Shayna says. She and Bayley each take one of Dakota's breasts in their hands. Bayley gently begins the rub and squeeze Dakota's right breast, while Shayna makes small circles with her thumb over Dakota's left nipple.

"You're being such a good girl for us," Bayley whispers softly as they play with Dakota's chest. "Such a good girl."

"Thank you," Dakota says, blushing.

Shayna kisses Dakota's cheek. "Are you okay with one more set of photos?" she asks. "Maybe in the purple one, outside by the pool?"

Dakota looks up at Shayna and smiles. "Sure," she says. "Will you help me get dressed?"

"Of course," Shayna says. She reaches down for the shopping bag and pulls out the purple set. It's similar to the white one, soft and translucent material that slides along Dakota's skin with ease as Shayna dresses her in the lingerie. When she finishes, the looks Dakota over, smiling at her. "You look beautiful love," she says. Dakota opens her mouth to protest, but Shayna gives her a kiss, cutting off whatever she was going to say.

"Thank you," Dakota says, cheeks flushing as she looks up with a shy smile.

Bayley wraps Dakota in her arms. "Can I carry you outside baby?" she asks. Dakota nods, and Bayley kisses the top of her head. Picking Dakota up off the bed, Bayley carries the smaller girl down the stairs and outside to the pool. Shayna follows them with the camera.

"Alright, just relax right there," Shayna says as Bayley sets Dakota down on one of the lounge chairs by the pool. Dakota leans back, legs extended and crossed at the ankles, hands behind her head. "There's our pretty girl," Shayna coos, snapping picture after picture of Dakota.

Eventually, Shayna sets the camera down. She and Bayley scoop Dakota up and bring her back inside. "You were so good for us," Bayley says, stroking Dakota's hair as the three of them go into the living room.

"Such a good girl," Shayna adds, settling Dakota on her lap. "Now, how about some cuddles?" she asks.

Dakota nods eagerly. "Should I change into regular clothes first?" she asks.

Shayna shakes her head. "I want to see you in this for a little longer. Is that okay with you?" she asks. Dakota nods, a shy smile on her face.

So the trio spends the rest of the day cuddling on the couch, Dakota surrounded by the warmth and love of her girlfriends. Eventually Shayna gets up to make dinner and Dakota changes into regular clothes. They exchange more gifts, but Shayna and Bayley are secretly most excited about the coupon books. There's certainly no limit to the fun they'll have with this gift.

[mollyrolls]

wouldn't it be nice 𓇼 semi e. x reader

prologue: promises

warnings: angst. very brief mention of divorce (will not be a part of the story at all), brief mention of pet death

𓇼 sounds like: surfer girl, the beach boys

mlist. / next

If you know one thing about Semi Eita, it’s that he makes a lot of promises. Growing up constantly nipping at each other's heels, you learned that keeping them was a different matter. 

At 7, you got your first board. The world was opened to you, like seeing colors for the first time. The air felt cleaner, water felt warmer, life had a new purpose. 

At 8, you got bullied off your first wave. Naturally, you didn’t take it well. The new boy didn’t seem that frazzled. He promised that he would steal every wave you ever had.

At 10, you placed above your arch rival in the little surfers league, and couldn’t wipe the grin off your face all night as your families celebrated over dinner. He promised that you would pay for this.

At 12, Semi showed you a new trick he learned and you had to blame your flustered and breathless expression on the sun glare. He promised to show you how to do it one day.

At 13, you overheard the older girls talking about their boyfriends, and you started compiling notes. He made you promise that you’d never talk about boy stuff with him. 

And then at 14, right when you’ve got everything figured out, failed promises all come barreling at you and knock you flat on your feet.

The door handle creaks open impossibly slowly, and you hold your breath so that the door won’t squeak. Prying it open with your shoulder, you manage to get just enough space where you can slip out, finally breathing once you’re outside. 

“Come on!” 

A not-so-quiet voice hisses out from behind the sea oats lining your porch, and you can clearly make out the light brown eyes blinking up at you.

“One. Second!” you hiss back through gritted teeth, and a bright white grin materializes under the eyes. 

You slowly click the door back into place, heart skipping a beat when the lock snaps back, but when no one stirs you turn quickly on your heel and jump into the sand below. 

“That took you long enough! We agreed to meet at 10, remember?” You can tell Semi’s not that mad due to the lack of bite in his words, so you sneer in response and yank him away from the front door.

He wrestles away from your grip, cackling louder when you try and cover his mouth. The two of you are a sight to behold, a tangle of limbs racing around each other in the dead of night. This is how it’s always been, ever since he moved here.

Born from a ‘healthy’ rivalry, Eita became your counterpart in every sense of the word. You could never be found without the other, even going as far as scheduling your surfing lessons back to back so that the other could heckle from the sand. It’s always been you and him, and you couldn’t imagine what your life would be like now if you hadn’t met him.

He escapes your grip completely, turning and sprinting down towards the waves where his board lays waiting. You scowl, not wanting to get left behind and take off towards your board, tragically in the other direction.

As you’re tugging at the ankle strap to pop loose from behind the wood where it’s wedged, you hear the tell-tale sign of Semi beating you, his board landing with a loud splash into the water.

When you pivot, hoping that your ears are misleading you, you’re met instead with those eyes staring back at you in triumph. The same ones who have recently made you start breathing a bit shallower, knees just barely giving way.

Crushing on Semi was a development you should have seen coming. Your mom has been teasing you about it relentlessly, giving you a knowing look every morning when he knocks on your door to pick you up for the day. 

The two of you being together feels inevitable. You just happened to come to that realization first, which makes sense. You heard the older girls saying that boys aren’t nearly as mature as we are, so of course Semi isn’t as mature as you. You just needed to ‘show him what he’s missing.’ 

You have yet to figure out what they meant by that. 

Finally freeing the ankle strap, you lug the board under your arm and take off towards the water, no longer caring about the noise you might be making to wake your mom up. All that matters right now is the cool night breeze filling your lungs, and the boy waiting for you. 

Once you take to the waves, everything feels right with the world. The warm water of the island caresses your hand with every push you make through the water, the moon full and bright ahead of you.

You pull yourself up to sit atop your board, finally caught up with Semi. You take a moment to admire him in the soft moonlight, noticing how the moon seems to pool in his eyes.

He catches you staring and pulls a face, which makes your face warm. Somewhat embarrassed, somewhat even more attracted to him despite his dumb expression. 

Tonight is a good night, you notice, to execute your plan. The ultimate plan to make Semi Eita realize he loves you and give you your first kiss.

You quietly paddle closer to him, letting your board bump into his and your legs to follow. Very subtle.

You just barely make contact with him before he pushes your board away, sending you spinning the other direction. You yelp, not expecting the movement and he cackles again. 

You should’ve known he would misread that. Maturity, you remind yourself. You’ll just need to be a bit more forward.

You paddle back, smacking his hand away when he tries to get you again. The feeling of your fingers on his hand makes it burn so you pull back quickly. 

You figure it must have been uncharacteristically so, because Semi quits his teasing.

“Sorry, are you okay?”

You hurriedly wave him off, trying to show that he’s not affecting you as much as he is.

“Yeah. Just not trying to get tipped.”

Mentioning that might have been a mistake, as his eyes take on their familiar mischievous glint. You start to panic, preparing to paddle away the second he makes a move.

But to your surprise, when he grabs the nose of your surfboard he doesn't tip you. He tugs it closer to him, bringing your bodies closer together.

You still nearly topple, not expecting forward movement, and your hands slip as they give way beneath you.

You’re lying on your back now, and decide to stay here. It's easier not having to look at him sometimes. He’s starting to overwhelm you at every turn.

“Hey. Sit up.”

“No.” You let your fingers flow back and forth in the water, enjoying the lapping it makes against your board. 

“I’m trying to talk to you.” Another tug at your board, until he’s in your line of sight.

The two of you share a saccharine grin, knowing how stupid you’re being. “What do you think we’re doing?” 

“Fine.” He mumbles, looking up and away from you, staring at something distant on the coast. “I don’t want to talk to you anyways.”

Your laugh is clear and bright, echoing along the quiet water. He smiles down at you again with a glance from the corner of his eye and your heart does a treacherous flip. 

There’s a moment of stillness after that, only sound to be heard is the soft rumble of the waves on the shore.

“Why did you invite me out tonight?”

Night surfing had become a tradition for the two of you when something serious needed to happen. You were never good at confronting the other, but sitting together in the water, letting the current take you every which way provided a space where you could.

Your first excursion into the night sea was when Semi was upset that you beat him at the little surfer leagues finals. You caught him sitting out there alone, and went out to comfort him. He flipped your board in pure spite at one point, but by the end of the night he was smiling again.

It evolved into where you would go when you had disagreements; when he broke your moms plate and let you take the blame, when you punched him so hard you made him cry. 

Then to a place of somberness. When his pet turtle died. When your dad left. 

Then back to anger; when he found out you liked a guy. “There’s no time for things like that.” He had chastised, shaking you around by the shoulders. “We have so much time left to be cool!”

Now, night surfing was anything you needed it to be. Sometimes you two would paddle out and say nothing, just needing to be in the other's company.

“Oh. Right.”

Semi suddenly looks scared, eyes darting around, looking anywhere but you. 

“I had something I needed to tell you.”

Your eyes widen, in momentary shock and fear. A thousand things start running through your head, the most dangerous of them all being what you had set out here tonight to do. Your heart rate starts to kick up, throat threatening to close. You sit, leaning in closer and watch him intently.

“Okay. I have something to tell you too.” If he was about to confess then obviously you would reciprocate. 

He gestures at you to finish what you were saying, effectively skipping over him.

Still attempting not to panic, you kick at his feet, feigning nonchalance. “You’re going first, obviously.”

He opens his mouth to retort, then shuts it. A nervous sigh. 

“Yeah, I was planning on it. You distracted me.” He grumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed he lost his edge. You’re trying not to burst from excitement. 

“So… god this is hard.” He lets out a strained laugh.

“I’m moving.”

Your vision goes black. The water rapidly filling your lungs makes it impossible to breathe, bubbling up and up until it spills out of your eyes. Ragged gasps leave you, trying not to break into sobs as your world gets turned on its head.

So, not only does Semi not like you. He’s leaving you for good. Your counterpart is being torn away from you with nothing you can do about it. The pain in your chest starts to spread to your arms, threatening to overtake you.

“Why?” The question is barely audible, your throat scratchy and choked.

“My parents want me to go inland for school. I guess they’re not happy with ours anymore.”

“For school? Does that mean you can come back in the summer?” 

He shakes his head solemnly, and the broken fragments of your heart shatter open even further. Maybe if you stop asking questions, they won’t come true.

“They said until university at least. Probably later though.” 

“Oh.”

He sits petulantly, kicking his feet around in the waves instead of stomping his feet. Your tears have hardly subsided. 

“That sucks,” is all you can manage to say. Not while your heart, hopes, and dreams are all disintegrating in front of you.

“Yeah. I’m gonna miss you so much.”

He says this as if it’s not obvious, which somehow makes it hurt worse. He needed you to know that, when right now you're wishing he didn't care about you at all. That would be easier than this.

All is quiet for a moment, just the soft crashing of the surf and the drips of your tears onto the plastic of your board. When Semi hears that, he pulls your board impossibly closer to him.

And he places a shaky hand on your shoulder, bringing your watery gaze up to his. A small spark emerges in the ash in your chest as you think, for however fleeting a moment, that maybe he’ll kiss you anyway. But he tucks your head to his shoulder, letting you cry all over his shirt and the flame is smothered once more.

He holds you while you cry, dropping a couple tears of his own. They roll down between your shoulder blades, leaving a scorching path in their wake.

And then, as if he couldn’t break you enough, he helps you out of the ocean with a lend of a hand and holds on as he walks you back to your home.

His hand feels perfect in yours. Two jagged edges sliding together just so, smoothing everything else out around them. He’s warm and rough and rubbing his thumb across yours and ruining your life with every pass.

“Oh.” He remembers, tugging at your hand to get you to stop. “You had something you wanted to tell me?” 

You wonder how many times a heart can physically break before you collapse to your knees. You must be rapidly approaching that number.

“I can’t remember now. It probably wasn’t important.” Your voice threatens to give out but you soldier through it all, giving a soft, pathetic smile to seal the deal.

“Okay. If you think of it.” He whispers back, noting your quiet tone and probably thinking you don’t want to wake your mom. When all you want to do is not let him leave you.

You both walk up to your porch in silence, soaking up the last moments you have with the boy who might be the love of your life.

He squeezes your hand twice, your lucky signal, and the tears come back. You have to drop his hand, but you regret it the moment you do. The feeling too final for your comfort.

Leaving the broken pieces of your heart on your front porch, you turn away towards the door.

You stop after a second of slowly turning the handle, hearing a strained whisper of your name.

Semi’s back in the sea oats, looking up at you with those treacherous eyes, more watery than they had been before.

“We’ll still be best friends. I promise.” 

And his eyes are so sincere, his words so hopeful, that despite all you've learned from knowing Semi Eita for 6 years, you believe him.

mlist. / next

playlist 𓇼 pinterest

taglist: open! fill out here. if you are in bold i cannot tag you, please check your settings.

@daisy-room, @aboutkiyoomi, @adorerin, @aquariarose, @mikauraurr

@akaashislovee, @yuminako, @linhhs, @lovingjeankirstein, @graeaesecond, 

@dailyakira, @myromanempiree, @cosmiicdust, @loverlunaire, @soulfullystarry, 

@sunsribn, @bailey-reeds, @garfieldissocool, @19calicos, @akaakeis

@duhsies, @causenessus, @eggyrocks, @wave2mia

[wristbandsblog]

Where to buy Wristbands for Hotels in Europe?

What are wristbands?

Wristbands are hand accessories that come in a variety of different colors and patterns. They can be used as fashion accessories or they can also serve a more functional role as well. Wristbands make it easy to identify people at work, school, home, or sporting events. They are made with elastic materials so that they fit just right and do not slip off the wrist. Some wristbands are now equipped with technology such as RFID chips for security purposes or electronic functions like sensors for health monitoring.

Uses of Wristbands:

Germany has even made a custom wristband that shows up on a computer when someone is using their computer without agreeing to share information. For example, if a person visits websites that were visited by pedophiles, the Web sites display a red band in the browser window of their computer, making them visible to unsuspecting internet users all over the world.

The following are the various uses of wristbands:

Creating awareness.

Identification of VIPs, staff, and other personnel.

One-to-one marketing opportunities.

In Events, Nightclubs, Festivals, Charities, and Hotels.

Access control in visitor management systems.

Speaking at events: the event organiser can identify the speaker before they go on stage with a simple scan of the wristband.

Use of Wristbands in Hotels

Wristbands in Hotels can be a huge help in the morning or at night. In the morning, they can be put on your wrist to get you checked in for breakfast and other services. Then when you leave, before you check out, these wristbands will let them know if you are done with your stay. Many hotels use wristbands to identify guests and show what board basis they are staying on. They can also be used for day guests to show clearly that they can use the hotel facilities. The possibilities are endless; their uses are only dictated by your imagination. They are used to help track items such as valuables. They can also be used to mark a person's wrist so they can be identified. Hotel wristbands are mostly either vinyl or Tyvek material – both are non-removable and waterproof.

Reasons to consider getting these Wristbands for Hotel to include:

Security- They're always on the wristband and cannot be removed or transferred. They also help guests to put away keys or cards and they make it easier to track down lost property when needed.

Entry Management - For example, if you have a large conference room and guests are required to check in at the door, they can do this on this band instead of carrying around keys and cards. The security of wearing this band makes it easier for them to avoid confusion, which leads to better customer service.

Aesthetic Appearance - You may also want to consider the possibilities of your hotel wristbands if you are looking for a theme for your hotel.  Consider making your wristband a part of the decor in your wrist and to include the logo of the hotel and even maybe an emergency contact number for guests to contact.

Token of love and respect - Anyone within the hotel industry will tell you that guests become very attached to their wristbands, especially if they've paid for an upgrade. Issuing each guest with their own individual band, allows them to feel special and is a constant reminder that they're a valued and important guest at this hotel.

If you are looking for ways to make your hotel more secure, consider getting these bands from Wristbandseurope.com because they are affordable and fun to use. The company has been supplying wristbands to hotels across Europe for over 10 years. They supply vinyl hotel wristbands and also Tyvek paper wristbands – both of which can be customized to include print in colour. Vinyl wristbands are the most popular type at hotels as they can be worn for weeks and not just a few days. RFID hotel wristbands are also starting to become more common and can replace the key card system many hotels use.

In conclusion, the possibilities with these wristbands are only limited by your imagination and creativity, so think about what you can use them for before you start thinking about getting them. Speak to the team at Wristbandeurope.com and they will be able to assist with any requirements or questions you have about hotel wristbands. They have a 5* score on Trustpilot as rated by previous customers.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: A String Pulled Taut.

Pairing: Yandere!Tengen (+Tengen's Wives) x Reader [Demon Slayer].

Word Count: 2.5k.

TW: Imprisonment, Intimidation, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence/Injury, Slight Manipulation.

“You any good?”

It took you a long moment to realize he was talking to you, another to look at him, to take in a shock of white hair, an expression that idled somewhere between distracted and bored. He was dressed strangely, but extravagantly. His nagagi was simple, plain, but brightly colored, and clearly made of fine material - either silk or hemp, you couldn't tell. He wore his hair loose, unstyled, and yet, his fingers were adorned with rings of silver and gold, all encrusted with jewels so large and so clear, you could only imagine one would feed a family of ten for months. A nobleman, you figured, or a wealthy merchant, but if that was true, you couldn’t imagine what he’d be doing in this part of the city, at this time of night, on a back-street where only those who didn’t know any better and those who didn’t have any choice strayed. You couldn’t imagine why he would’ve stopped to talk to you.

Your hands fell to your shamisen, laid out over your lap. You’d been planning to tune it, to take some reprieve in the thoughtless act of plucking strings and turning pegs, but you must’ve gotten distracted. You took it up, now, tuned or otherwise, and crossed your legs underneath you, finding the bachi you’d left at your side without looking away from him.

“Oh, the best,” You replied, fingering absentmindedly at the neck, finding the well-worn notches easily. “That’s why I’m out here. They kicked me out of the concert hall. I’d play a single note, and all the other performers would begin to tear their instruments apart in shame. It was… inconvenient. For the patrons, I mean.”

That earned a smile, a flicker of interest. He nodded, expectantly, but you only shook your head. “I’m not a busker. You won’t find any charity here.”

A chuckle, this time, breathy and vaguely amused. “I can’t say I’ve ever paid for a song I haven’t heard yet.”

Fair enough. Most people who wore their wealth so blatantly weren’t so fickle with their yen, but you didn’t push any further. It wasn't like you'd ever sent away a willing audience.

You opted for a folksong, from your village. It wasn't complicated, or particularly impressive, but you liked how the cords blended together, the slow build of the introduction and the rush of the chorus, and you were familiar with it, knew each note and each rest like the back of your hands. You didn’t have to sacrifice the tempo to the stiffness in your fingers, didn’t have to worry about how many days it’d been since you last practiced, and when you finished, when you stuck the final note, you could let yourself enjoy the way it lingered, reverberating as it died a slow, melancholy death. You’d closed your eyes, sometime during the song, an inherited habit you had yet to shake, and you didn’t open them again until you heard something hit the payment beside you, the sound muffled but metallic, no doubt the payment he’d previously withheld. You didn’t check the amount, didn’t take the time to count out the coins, but you smiled as you snatched the satchel up, satisfied with its not-inconsiderable weight.

“There’s more, if you want it.” He was already turning away from you. “My wives would enjoy the entertainment.”

You strummed through a random cord, aiming more so to fill the silence than to further demonstrate your skill. “I don’t know, sir. It’s getting late, and I don’t make a habit of trusting strange men with deep pockets.”

“Make a habit of trusting me.” Confident, but not stern. An order given with no doubt that it’d be followed. “You'll spend the night. We’ve got a few guestrooms – you can have your pick, as long as Hinatsuru approves.” You were thankful he wasn’t looking at you, that he couldn’t see the way you stiffened at the mention of a guestroom, at the implication of a real bed. But, your playing faltered, cutting off completely, and that seemed to be all he needed to hear. “…just for tonight, of course. Unless you'd like to stay longer.”

You hesitated, but not for very long, your eyes falling to the road. You tried to straighten your back, to square your shoulders, but it was a half-hearted effort, one that cracked and gave way as soon as you opened your mouth.

“Just for tonight.”

~

That night, and the next, and the next. Until days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. You tried to leave, at first, as often as you could, making your excuses and offering your gratitude to your hosts, but Makio would insist on sharing a bottle of saké, for the road, and Suma would pull you into a parting hug, and you’d wake up in your room the next morning, desperately thirsty and too weak to stand on your own. Your attempts dwindled, from every few days to twice a week, from twice a week to once a month, and eventually, you stopped trying at all.

You found other ways to keep yourself occupied. Household chores, watching the four of them train, and sometimes, when you could get away with it, stowing yourself away in a rarely used corner of the courtyard, underneath a tree that blossomed like wildfire in spring. It was a lullaby, today, one you’d picked up from an innkeeper while you were passing through the mountains and hadn't had time to return to. The tempo was slow, the melody repetitive. It reminded you of something your sister would’ve sung as she tended to the garden, something she would’ve played when she was too sick to do much else. You didn’t like it, but you wanted to perfect it, get it down well enough to play in your sleep. You wanted to—

You stopped, abruptly, opening your eyes, snapping to your left. Her footsteps were soft, but you’d been here for weeks, months. You knew what to listen for.

Not that she cared. Hinatsuru only smiled, letting her head lull to the side and clasping her hands behind her back as she spoke. “Mind if I join you?”

“By all means.”

Too stiff, too formal, but she only hummed, lowering herself to your side. She was closer than you would’ve liked, her knee brushing against yours whenever she shifted, but you didn’t complain. Makio liked to speak over you, not to listen when you said something she didn’t want to hear, and Suma clung to your secrets like treasures more precious than life itself, but anything you told to Hinatsuru would inevitably find its way back to Tengen. She was reliable, even if her dependability rarely swayed in your favor.

You were practicing, not performing. She must’ve known that before she sat down, and if she hadn’t, she must’ve been able to tell the third time your tempo dropped into an unbearable crawl, the fourth time you skipped over a note and doubled back to correct yourself, the fifth time you repeated the final bar because it just didn’t hold the weight it would’ve had you been more capable, had you been more focused. It was messy, awkward, more of a stumbling jog than a graceful dance, but Hinatsuru didn’t seem to care, resting her head on your shoulder as she applauded quietly. You only gave a shallow mock-bow, biting into your tongue as one of her hands dropped to the base of your shamisen, tracing a jagged scratch along the side. “He wants to get you a new one.”

You wanted to bat her hand away. You wanted to ask her (politely, so politely) to stop, to leave you alone. You wanted to dig your nails into her wrist and tell her never to touch anything of yours ever again. “What do you mean?”

“As a gift. To show you how much he enjoys having you here. How much we all enjoy having you here.” Her attention dropped lower, to the chipped paint that surrounded the bridge. Something in your chest tightened. You tasted blood. “It's all he ever talks about. Made of only the finest materials, by only the most talented craftsmen. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but it’s killing him not to tell you. I think he’ll pace himself to death before he actually gets to break the news.”

You tried to be subtle, to turn away without really turning away, to make it so she’d have to pull away, stop touching what she didn't respect. Her hand fell to your thigh, instead, infinitely better. Infinitely worse. “I wouldn’t—” You cut yourself off, took a deep breath, and tried again. “I’ve never played another. I’m not sure I’d be able to.”

“Always so humble.” You heard her laugh, distantly, and dropped your eyes to the ground. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. It might be refreshing, to play a shamisen that’s not falling apart.”

“I don’t—I mean, that’s not what I meant. This shamisen, my shamisen was given to me by someone very important and I…” She was drawing circles into your thigh, now, attempting to comfort you, like she might’ve with a frightened animal, or a timid child, attempting fruitlessly to express something they didn’t want her to know. “I’ve never played another,” You repeated, trying to force as much meaning into the words as you could. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever wanted to.”

Her smile faltered. You weren’t looking at her, but you could hear it in her voice, as she replied. “Lord Tengen will be disappointed.”

“And I apologize for that, but there’s nothing I can do to change my heart.” You started on the lullaby, again, slower, this time, quieter, this time. You wanted to get it right. You needed to get this right. “I’m sorry. You’ve all been so kind to me, and I am grateful for Lord Tengen’s generosity, but… I can’t.” Then, again, with a slight delay. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond, not immediately. You felt her nails scrape over your skin, the gesture not forceful enough to hurt, but carried out with enough pressure to remind you that she was there, that she wasn't leaving. “I don’t think you understand. Lord Tengen will be very disappointed.”

“I don't mean any offense.” You shut your eyes – purposefully, this time. Just so would be able to pretend you couldn’t feel her stare boring into you, refusing to lessen or dull until she’d pieced through you and torn you apart completely. “Please, let him know I appreciate the thought. I only regret that I can’t fully embrace his kindness.”

She didn’t say anything else, only pushing herself to her feet, starting back towards the mansion. You waited until you couldn’t hear her footsteps, until you were sure you were alone, finally alone, then let out a deep exhale, your hold on your shamisen going lax as you leaned against the gnarled trunk.

You could only hope you’d be able to make it last a little longer, this time.

~

A mile. Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. It was hard to tell, in the dark, in the woods, when all you could do was follow the dirt road and hope it led you somewhere you wanted to be.

You made it a mile, give or take, before he caught you.

You hadn’t heard him, hadn’t seen him, hadn’t felt his eyes on you or the stifling nature of his presence or much of anything until his heel collided with the back of your knee, until you were on the ground, clinging to your throbbing leg, Tengen standing over you, unblinking.

It hurt more than it should’ve. You’d been kicked, before, punched, knocked to the ground and left to bleed, but you’d never felt a pain so intense, a pain so sharp, as if he’d been able to shatter every bone in your calf with what should’ve been little more than a passing touch. You cried out, choked back a cracked sob, but if Tengen cared, he didn’t betray his concern. He only reached out, his fingers brushing over your sleeve, then your shoulder, exposed when your robes were by the fall. “I thought you were coming around.” Over your collarbone, then your chest. You grit your teeth, curled into yourself, but he didn’t pull away, didn’t give you the space you wanted, the space you needed. “I thought you liked it, with us. Or, understood that I liked it with you, at least.”

Another sob, a row of nails dug into the flesh of your calf, just to try and distract yourself from the unbearable ache. Tengen sighed, shaking his head. “It’s my fault. I should’ve been more honest. I don’t know why I thought you’d just,” He paused, gesturing vaguely with his free hand “get it.”

You opened your mouth, tried to tell him not to touch you, not to look at you, but as you shifted, you felt the weight on your back - or, the absence of it, rather. Desperately, you felt behind the ground behind you, but found nothing.

Your case. You must've dropped it.

Your shamisen.

Damn your leg. Damn Tengen. Feebly, frantically, you tried to push yourself up, to stand if you could, to crawl if you couldn’t, but it took little more than a hand on your shoulder to force you back down, to keep your chest pressed to the dirt, your leg bent in such a way that made every never in your body scream in agony. You shrieked, but you didn’t stop trying, scratching at his arm, thrashing against his hold. You could see it, lying farther down the path, the case split open and your shamisen in the dirt, visibly damaged. It’d take days to clean, weeks to properly repair, but you needed it, even it never sounded the same, even if it could never be played again. You needed it.

Tengen’s caught on quickly, albeit in his own time. His gaze flitted towards the aim of your desperation, and with an airy chuckle, he let you go, standing to his full height, walking to where your shamisen lay and picking it thoughtlessly, carelessly. You'd break his fingers. You'd hold his hand over an open fire until his skin separated from his muscle and he could never touch anything else so recklessly. “Hinatsuru said this belonged to someone you used to know. Someone important to you.” Another laugh, deeper, more sardonic. “Someone you loved, right?”

“Let it go, let it go, let it go.” You tried to get up, to tear it away from him yourself, but your strength faltered, and you fell back to your hands and knees before you could take a single step. “Don’t, I’ll—I’ll kill you, don’t touch that—”

He didn’t wait for you to finish. He took the neck in both hands, and without a hint of strain, he broke it into two splintered, separate pieces, barely connected by the mangled strings.

Then, he dropped it, and something in your chest broke beyond repair.

You didn’t cry, didn’t threaten him. You felt numb, weightless, barely aware of the arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you up and cradling you against a broad chest. You didn’t struggle, didn’t speak, just shrunk into yourself, buried your face in the fabric of his uniform, let him rest a hand on your back, keeping you close. Caging you against him. “We’ll get you a new one, a better one. Something more fitting of someone so close to me.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head, his grin wide, apparent. As if he didn’t realize he was smiling. As if he didn’t care.

“And you’ll never have to think about anyone else again.”

[cahmilo]

I’ve always like heterochromia (I don’t have them but I find them beautiful and unique). if you don’t me requesting, um Camilo with gn! reader with heterochromia. (U don’t have to do it if u don’t want to)

Prettiest Eyes — camilo m.

Heterochromia (n) : a difference in coloration in two anatomical structures or two parts of the same structure which are normally alike in color

pairing: camilo madrigal x gn reader genre: fluff tags: requested, modern au, heterochromia!reader

summary: every artist has their secrets too, you alone incorporate something deep in your art that no one else could see. Two distinct colors always dominate your work, everyone can tell it was your art style, but no one understood why— not until your secret was out by none other than your own seatmate, Camilo Madrigal.

Art was always what you looked forward to in class, something about the creation limitless in imagination and creativity always brought you the freedom that life didn't seem to offer. Expression through visual art was most especially your form of talent. You had natural skills that everyone could clearly see. It was as if once your hand connects with a brush, pen or other medium, it moves as gracefully and controlled as it can be. 

But every artist has their secrets too, you alone incorporate something deep in your art that no one else could see. Two distinct colors always dominate your work, everyone can tell it was your art style, but no one understood why— not until your secret was out by none other than your own seatmate, Camilo Madrigal.

Another artist with a natural-born talent. Though he seemed more inclined towards the theatre arts, he still has a knack for visual art as well. Two of you were seatmates during class, not as close as one may think you are, but not too distant to the point of sensing awkwardness. To both of you, it was always just merely friends, artist-to-artist, nothing more, yet. 

Today's art class was focused on one activity— painting. The topic? Portraits. The entire class was tasked to paint the seatmate's portrait and obviously for you, you had to paint Camilo while he paints a portrait of you. The moment you two heard about the activity, you stared at each other and gave playful grins.

"I'll give you one tip, Y/N," Camilo raised a brow and whispered to you, "— try not to fall for the person you're painting. It distracts you."

You scoffed in reply, rolling your eyes at his cocky manner. "Keep dreaming, Camilo. Who knows it would be the other way around?" You crossed your arms and brushed your hair slyly, "You might be the one to fall for me instead." 

Two of you shared a laugh before collecting the art materials for the activity. Camilo took the easels and the canvas while you thoroughly picked which type of medium you were going to use. After a long internal debate you settled for acrylic paint, grabbed the box full of supplies and brushes before coming back to an impatient Camilo who has been ready the entire time. Your easels turned backs on each other, each of you seated across in a small distance. You decided to draw Camilo in a bright pose, often times locking eyes with the subject and laughing about it. The same two distinct colors were your dominant paint colors, and you were left to let your brush wander about, letting time fly by as you continued to slowly bring the portrait of your seatmate to life. 

Camilo felt pretty much the same, stealing glances of you and the canvas back and forth, making sure that he captures every single detail of you. Though his attempt wasn't the best compared to a high-quality artist, he still feels proud that he is still capable of catching your features into his art. Like you, he let his hands mindlessly run through the canvas, he didn't even notice time flying that fast until he was almost done. While he was painting, he noticed you brush a strand of hair in your face but accidentally smudged a bit of paint near the arch of your eyebrow. 

"Y/N," He called out which made you look at him. Camilo pointed his own finger to his face, "You have a little bit of paint here." 

You looked up to him to wipe the area he was pointing to, but you forgot you were holding a paint brush, making larger pigments of paint strokes near your eye. The sensation of the paint meeting your eyeball stung so badly that you dropped the brush, alarming Camilo who jolted up trying to help you. 

You were quick to dismiss him however, looking down and sneaking off outside the classroom after getting excused by the teacher. When you didn't come back yet after what seemed like minutes, Camilo grew worried. He then asked to be excused before running out to find you. 

Camilo figured you wouldn't be at the bathroom anymore, you already took too long for just a small chemical splash in the eye. So he took a detour, jogging through the hallways looking for you in your lockers. When Camilo spotted the familiar hair and shoes, he smiled in victory as he ran to you but you were closed off. The moment you heard footsteps, you hid behind your locker door and moved closer to the small gap to hide yourself.

"Y/N?" Camilo asked you, stopping by his tracks to check up on you. You let out a nervous smile and suspiciously kept hiding.

"I'm good," Camilo heard you answer, he inched closer but you yelped, "don't come closer!"

Camilo being the stubborn boy that he is, insisted on finding out why you were acting weird. So he opened the rest of the locker only to find one of the best revelations he has seen in his entire life.

There you stood, bewildered. A shocked look was on your face when you met Camilo's eyes. He was star-struck, even with you holding up a contact lens by your finger looking like a meerkat that has been spotted sneaking food, you looked adorable. 

"You have heterochromia?" Camilo quietly asked, not taking his eyes off of you. 

Your mood took a drastic turn. You felt, indifferent somehow. Whether Camilo still liked you or not, the fact that he now knows about your condition made you feel uneasy. As an attempt to disregard that eerie feeling in your chest, you simply ignored him, placed your lens back in the case and turned your heel to go back to the restroom.

But Camilo held your wrist preventing you from getting away. 

"No," He paused, waiting for you to turn around to him. When you did, he met your eyes and boy has he never stumbled on his words that bad. Camilo knew that he saw something in you from before but, now, he found you even more attractive. "Your eyes have never looked prettier..." He muttered.

Now you, however, momentarily forgot you still didn't have your lens on, your natural eyes of individually two colors stood out in Camilo's view. And much like he did, you too, got lost in his eyes. But not for long, the bell rang which startled both of you. You panicked, eyes going wide as you frantically shuffled through your pockets for the lens case. You couldn't go to the restroom anymore, students were piling out for lunch. Luckily for you, Camilo sensed your urgency. He grabbed your shoulders and made you face your still open locker, the door covering one side of your face and his frame covering the other. He turned his back and faced the students, crossing his arms to act naturally. While you were now barricaded you immediately went back to put your lenses on. You hastily grabbed Camilo's shoulder and whispered to him,

"Not another word about this."

With a deep exhale you turned around wanting to go back to the art room. But as you start walking, Camilo once again calls your attention from behind.

"I wont." He said. You turned around to look at him, it seemed like he had something else to say. With a small smile, he tucked his hands into his pocket and said, "But on one condition." You raised a brow at him, urging him to continue in which he did so by shyly saying,

"You take your lenses off when you're just with me."

—

Camilo never brought up your heterochromia again but unbeknownst to you, it has been the only thing running in his mind. He didn't see you in a new light, you were still the Y/N that he knew, except that thinking about the real you only made him feel butterflies in his stomach. While the two of you catch up on the unfinished art on your easel, Camilo stood by so that you would still have a reference. But what you didn't know was that he was beyond done on your portrait, he was merely scribbling on it just to pass the time. In his mind, you were the one living rent-free. 

He thought about your art, your distinct style. Almost everyone has noticed that you use the same two colors in different variations, but now only Camilo understood why. They were the colors of your eyes. Camilo took a good look earlier to take in the hues in your iris, the pigment and shade oddly very familiar to him. Now he sees why. You loved your eyes, but were afraid that people see you differently. Camilo wants to change that. 

"Hey," He called to your attention, "Wanna see yourself in the eyes of THE Camilo Madrigal?" He smirked and subtly winked, his cocky side being as playful as it is which made you roll your eyes in return. 

You sat straight to face across him, putting your brush down to the edge of the easel. "I better be hot then if that's the case."

"You'll see" Camilo boasted, standing up to hold the canvas. With a swift move, he lifted it off the easel and turned it around to face you. The moment you saw his portrait of you, your face stood stunned. You were flawless, Camilo did capture your details very well. Every beauty mark, your facial expression, your hair, it was almost realistic. But what ticked you off was another small detail that meant a lot to you.

"It's amazing, but I told you not to do the—" You pointed to your eyes and looked at him dead panned. You didn't further verbally state your heterochromia afraid that people would draw attention to the both of you. But before you started complaining, Camilo was quick to interrupt.

"It's already graded, Y/N" He said. "I passed it earlier when you left" 

You took a sigh of relief before relaxing back to your seat, you didn't even realize you held a tense pose from the nervousness. "It's beautiful, Camilo. You're an amazing artist"

Camilo gave you a shy smile, you noticed his fingers tapping the edge of the canvas frame. He looked almost adorable it made your stomach churn. When Camilo got back to reality, he settled back to his seat, "I want you to keep it."

Your eyes widened. "What?"

"I mean it," He said to you, "You need a reminder that your natural beauty is already art in itself."

Now, you weren't sure whether he was playing or messing with you, but that comment of his already brought back somersaults in your heart. You weren't used to people seeing your real eyes, and for Camilo to being the first one to appreciate it made you grateful. There were times where he has made fun of you, but this seeming like a genuine compliment sparked confidence in you. If only he knew how much those 13 words changed your outlook on life. In hopes to be equal with him, you decided to give him your painting as well. Camilo was unsure about the reciprocation knowing how much your works meant to you, but your face of certainty made him ecstatic that he gets to keep a piece of your skills for himself.  

The moment you turned your canvas to him, Camilo grinned widely. He admired your art for a long time, but the fact that he was one of your subjects only made him feel happier than ever. The same two distinct colors was etched beautifully in his image. His curly hair, freckles, eyes, nose, lips, basically his every detail was done elegantly in your style. Never would Camilo thought he would fall in love with art, but you made it easier for him to do so.

Needless to say that it left you two two wonder how one art class and a small mishap could lead to even something bigger. Two of you became close since then, still oblivious to the mutual feelings shared together, but there was no rushing. Camilo since then have learned that there are much more to your art than meets the eye. Every artist has their story to tell through their medium, and you shared your hidden beauty through yours. In Camilo's case, he would want you to learn that you were beautiful just the way you are. He wants to be the viewer that could reciprocate the feelings you want to depict in your heart-filled canvas. With the artist that wants to portray a message, there should always be an audience that would look and appreciate hard enough to see it.

In this case, your beauty would be the your differently-colored eyes. Sooner or later you would be confident in your unique quality, and Camilo couldn't be even prouder. From the start of a small art of you made by him in your room, you would stare at it from time to time, hoping that the artist would let you see through his message;

You have the prettiest eyes, why would you even try to hide?

taglist: @pochi-moochika, @carlosfruitsnacks, @thegirlwiththebangs, @mirabelleza, @carcat-02, @brushofease, @ducky-is-dead-inside, @elegantkidfansoul, @moon-cakiie, @justicehasaproblem, @nerdish-simp, @justzei, @try-cry-why-try, @kuhmeelo, @asockyoulostbeforelaundry, @alexxavicry

masterlist | taglist | gif source

[kamari333]

I’m curios to ask (If it’s alright, feel free not if you don’t want to) what makes Underlust your fave Au?

Oh this is a great question! There are a lot of reasons!! Longpost under the cut. Forgive me, i typed this on my phone and i just woke up.

One is the designs. I fucking adore everyones designs! Sans is damn cute! Papyrus is cute! Napstablook is cute! MTT is cute! Grillby is cute! The color palettes and slight deviations that make them unique are all just Artistically Good and they hit me somewhere nice in the visual appeal part of my brain.

Another reason is that I just love the canon story! I mean, yeah, its really dark and tragic what happened to Mettaton. But the point of the story is that he overcomes it. He is able to heal. The story tells us that you can heal even after you get hurt that badly and it doesnt have to define you and thats wonderful and beautiful and something too many people legitimately need to hear.

And the RELATIONSHIPS!! MTT and Papyrus talk it out and have a relationship that isnt based in physicality they just genuinely love each other. And Papyrus is so clearly Ride or Die. It's just GREAT okay? And the Sansby is ALSO GREAT because Sans and Grillby are awkward and never talk until Sans does his drunken confesssion and Grillbz is just like oh god i love this dumb idiot drunk this is my life now.

And MTT and Alphys also have a great relationship! They are close enough to make Girl Talk even after what happened! Alphys knows cuz she patched MTT up but they're still making sass at each other! GREAT!!

Papyrus and Undyne have a great relationship!!! She doesn't infantilize him and admits he is good at the sex part of the job, she just thinks he is too clingy and romance driven to keep himself detached enough for work. And thats a legitimate concern! For his well being and the clients both!

Sans and Papyrus's relationship is great!! There is clearly a standard set of platonic affection being shared between them. They talk and joke and sass and tease each other. Theyre brothers and its great.

(did the creator draw a lot of underlust fontcest too? yes. yes she did. and that was also great. but these are two separate things and even without the obvious -gestures- "theyre fictional skeleton monsters, dont be weird", its also addressed that the fontcest part is not something to model irl.)

And i like to headcanon blooky and sans are friends even though they never interacted in the canon material we got. i like to think they would have eventually if it wasn't discontinued.

I love how the humans are adults and frisk is aroace. i'm afraid of children so having an AU where the humans are all canonically adult is great to me.

I love Toriel and Asgore's relationship. It is tragic what happened to them, but I think it's important that stories not always shy away from that kind of hurt. Some people need stories like that too.

I love Rosie the Rose's design and concept in general.

I also love the LUST mechanic. I love that there is an AU where sex is a prominent, plot relevant, societally prevalent and important thing. I love that as an Asexual, myself. It allows me to explore that topic safely, while having fun. I love how its treated as a both natural (meaning its normal and not gross or weird) and unnatural (not meant for monsters, specifically, under normal circumstances) thing. I love how it is defined as a Very Human thing, and what that can mean to me when analyzed and juxtaposed against the narrative foil to the idea that we are given in Frisk the Asexual.

I kinda love that the whole thing is 80% shitposts and pieces the creator made while just having fun living their best life. Yes the papyton comic, which is the meat of the canon, was done seriously, but so much was made of just the characters having fun being themselves and thats pretty cool too.

I know there is a lot of bad publicity around underlust. I know people have spread terrible rumors about it. I frankly dont care. I know it is a beautiful story made from beautiful art. wherever its creator is now i wish her the best in the world. It is my favorite AU (aside from my own lol) and nobody can change my mind.

[slytherwrites]

Dedicated Interest - pt 1

Costume Innovation

The moment when a Class 1A member became interested in you would be days into the second year of school when you actually approached them after the second year lunch. With your notepad in hand and confidence spurred on from Power Loader himself supporting the redesigns, you head towards your target: Momo Yaoyorozu.

You’ve seen her fight—you’ve seen all of the future heroes fight. Support Class students are encouraged to watch Hero Course students in order to gain inspiration. Over the winter break, something in you had the urge to fix many of the hero students’ costumes—particularly the ones in Class 1A. They seemed to need your help the most.

The cafeteria is massive. But the tall girl isn’t hard to spot. With her long, black hair and confident, but charming voice, you’re able to locate her pretty easily. Getting her away from the girls she’s walked in with is the hard part.

But you don’t stop. In fact, you just go for it. It’s now or never, afterall.

“Yaoyorozu,” you ask, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Oh yeah, sure!” She replies, “don’t wait up for me guys. I’ll be there shortly!”

You lead her out into the hallway. The noise of the cafeteria can still be heard, but it’s muted enough so you two can clearly hear each other.

“Have we met before..?”

“Not formally,” you reply, “I’m one of the Support Class students, L/N Y/N. I was watching a bunch of the students compete and I was inspired to do costume redesigns.”

You pass her the notepad. A barebones sketch of her is underneath a more detailed drawing of your suggested hero outfit. With inspiration from both her summer and winter costume, it gives more strategic thought to her hero costume than there was before. There is an open back with an easily detachable front that can optionally be worn with a cloak. Elbow pads and knee pads provide joint protection, as well as shoes that’ll support her instead of the heeled boots she’d been fighting in. The cutouts are strategically placed, with spots on her thighs, lower legs, back and stomach. There still is an element of modesty, as her breasts aren’t halfway out all the time anymore and it’s all in her original color scheme.

“This is…” She pauses. You can’t tell what’s on her mind.

“Sorry if I overstepped my boundaries, I promise not to bother you anymore!”

“This is ingenious!” Momo replies, “Tell me, when do you think you could have this made?”

“Oh umm… I would have to get you measurements and source the materials, but that shouldn't take too long. A week, maybe two tops? Nothing new’s being innovated, it’s just a matter of taking it from my notes to an actual thing…”

“Sounds great.” She takes the pencil you keep clipped on your notepad and writes down her number, “I need to get to lunch but I’m free this afternoon for measurements. Text me!”

“I will!” You take the notebook, clutching it against your chest. Yaoyorozu was the right person to start with.

===

You immediately added Yaoyorozu’s number after lunch and now you’re getting a ping from it.

Yaoyorozu: Hey, I’m free anytime from 4:30-6:30pm. What time works best for you?

You look at your clock now. 4:30’s coming up soon. A number of your classmates are still in the 2-H Workshop, but it isn’t so busy that you wouldn’t bring in another person—that’s only when Hatsume’s working, as she’s a safety hazard in and of herself.

Y/N: Now’s fine! I’m in the 2-H workshop. It’s in the east wing.

The chatter of machinery and the lyrics to some pop song trail along in the background. You’ve mostly tuned it out, so Yaoyorozu has to tap on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Y/N?” Her calling you by your first name gets you out of your daze and you reply, “Oh, hi Yaoyorozu!”

You turn to face her. A bit of heat heads to your face as you see Yaoyorozu’s skin tight outfit. She certainly isn’t uncomfortable in her skin.

“You like my outfit? It’s designer—part of Mount Lady’s recently dropped workout line.” She replies, “I thought I’d wear something closer to my skin in order to get proper measurements done.”

“Oh yeah. That’s smart. Let me grab my tailor’s tape and a sticky note!” You rummage through your school bag for spare supplies, pulling it out and pushing your classwork aside, “Here it is! Now we’ll start from the top down, getting all of the measurements and then you can be on your way.”

“Sounds perfect.” Momo stands straight, arms and legs shoulder width apart. She’s obviously done this before.

As you hum along to the music, Momo watches you. You don’t notice, but she stares at you, dedicating every little detail to memory. Something in her wants to replicate everything you have for herself. Though, as you stand up and put your tape measurer down, she coughs and clears her mind of it’s racing thoughts.

“So… what were you working on?”

“Schoolwork, nothing much.” You admit, “Just some back to school safety briefings—as if most of us didn’t come in during the winter to continue our projects. You probably don’t want to hear about it.”

Momo proves you wrong, “What other projects do you have going on?”

“Oh uh… well, Power Loader’s gave us a robotics project to work on and I’ve been specializing in costumes so I’ve been trying to create a list of heroes and hero students to make improved costumes on. You’re the first I’ve actually been able to do hands-on work for though… That’s for this, by the way!”

“How could I refuse?” Momo asks, “Your improvements and overall design is better than what I could’ve come up with on my own.”

“I guess…”

“May I ask,” Momo says, “How did you come up with this design?”

“Mostly by watching your trainings, as well as current pro hero costume trends.” You repsponds, “Most female pro heroes have their legs exposed in some capacity, but don’t have any sort of knee protection—which I think is stupid. And if we do knee protection, we need elbow protection. And I’d advocate for more coverage in order to have protective plating underneath the suit, but since you need your skin out, I had to limit it to specific areas. And the cloak came really handy for that! Plus I could have it cover your back in order to let you conceal items you create and have you… I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“No, no! It’s fine.” Momo replies, “I find this fascinating. Please continue!”

“Well… I’ve noticed that in a pinch that you’ll lose your top and then have to make yourself new clothes. But since your shirt is magnetic and can be put back together, you can save… materials as well as use that space for other things.” You continue with a laugh at yourself, “I don’t really understand how your quirk works, but I hope this costume will work…”

“I convert fat lipids into other atoms and release them from my skin.” Momo explains, “but I think your idea will work.”

“Let’s see.” You reply, “Well, I think that’s all I need from you. Thanks for sticking around and listening to my rambling, Yaoyorozu.”

“Call me Yaomomo. My friends do, anyway.” She tells you, “Text me anytime!”

“Oh uh, cool.” You tell her, “I will.”

She eventually leaves you to your devices, but you don’t leave her thoughts. In fact, you are steadily taking up a large portion of her thoughts as she contacts her house staff to start construction on a wing in the manor to give you the biggest, best laboratory possible.

[5acchan]

red-handed, pink-cheeked

inumaki x f!reader

warnings: sub!inumaki, d/s themes, femdom, cock&ball torture, mild verbal humiliation/degradation, teasing, mutual masturbation, panty kink, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, creampie, established relationship

summary: you'd heard the rumors even before you started dating toge. first from maki, then from megumi. how odd and out of character, you'd thought. and naughty. (i.e. panty stealer inumaki)

me @ me: r u rlly gonna write 3k abt inumaki in panties

me: /inhales i present to you all on this good day...

you'd heard the rumors even before you started dating toge. first from maki, then from megumi. how odd and out of character, you'd thought. and naughty.

after all, toge had always treated you differently than others. even as friends, he'd been sweet and eager to please, and that hadn't changed when you began dating him. toge was obedient, a little bit submissive and masochistic, bending to your will with stars in his eyes the entire time. not that you minded. even if what your friends told you was true, your boyfriend wouldn't dare, would he?

you return from a coffee run one afternoon and get your answer—he would. your first thought is to be amused, but you can't help the anger that sparks from your belly and surges through your veins to send your heart racing as you watch toge root through your carefully organized underwear drawer from where you stand in the doorway. i just folded and sorted them all by color this past weekend, you groan internally.

toge straightens up and you tense, expecting him to turn and see you watching him. you don’t expect to see him inspect a pair and test the stretch of the waistband before carefully holding them up to his hips, as if he's checking whether or not they might fit properly on his slim frame.

that pair might fit, you think, and then take in a slow, deep breath as your irritation melts into arousal at the unbidden mental images of your fingers snapping the waistband against his sensitive skin, rubbing the thick length of him over the silky fabric while he squirms and bucks into your touch in a wordless plea for you to sit on his cock.

toge, in your panties? if he wants to wear them so badly, you'll allow him the opportunity to do so. never let it be said that you wouldn't do anything for your lovely boyfriend. and with that, you inhale and exhale with a sharp, "what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

he jumps, clutching your panties to his chest before turning to face you, eyes wide. you deliberately drop your gaze to what’s in his hands, which nervously crinkle the fabric in a way that makes you frown. “bonito flakes,” he offers.

“‘wasn’t doing anything,’ my ass,” you say, not taking your eyes off him as you shut the door he’d so carelessly left ajar. he gulps. the sound is audible even from behind his collar. his eyes are wide, a bit fearful of what's to transpire. you don't blame him. as a dom, you can be unpredictable at times, though you always make sure to give him what he wants in the end. but with such a sweetly responsive sub, you can never resist playing with your prey a bit.

toge warily eyes you as you casually make your way to your desk and take a sip of your coffee before you neatly set it down on a coaster. “do you like them?” you ask.

he nods, waiting until you walk over to carefully whisper, “looks nice,” before clamping his lips shut.

you hum in agreement. that pair does look good on you, both nobara and maki had said so when you’d tried them on at the department store. it’s simple black in a cheeky cut, made of a stretchy, silky material with a set of thin black straps that criss-cross over your hips, joined in the front with a little gold o-ring. nobara had made a comment about you looking like a dominatrix in them, and you had immediately changed back into your own clothes and strode over to the checkout counter to purchase them.

(“it’s like that, then?” maki asks, a wicked smirk on her lips as she saunters over to pay for her own goods.

“would it be any other way?” you reply.)

“they’d look good on you too. put them on, then.”

he flushes pink all the way up to the tips of his ears, and you’re sure if his jacket wasn't zipped all the way up, you'd see a pink flush across his nose and cheeks too. you suppress a smile at how he fidgets in a way that lets you know it's exactly what he wants, but he's feeling a little shy.

"go on."

he stares at you a moment longer, a pleading look in his eyes, before dropping his gaze to his belt and zipper. there's the soft clinking of metal and a smooth zip, and then his pants pool at his ankles. he still has your panties bunched in one hand, and you raise an eyebrow, indicating that he should undress further. toge half turns away but you make a sound of disapproval. "what're you turning away for? afraid i'm going to see your slutty cock all wet and hard for me already?"

chastised, he turns back around to face you fully and wiggles the waistband of his black boxer-briefs down until they fall to join his pants on the floor. sure enough, he's hard, flushed pink and thick enough to make your mouth water, not yet leaking freely but precum oozes out of his slit when you step closer and give him a squeeze. he lets out a stuttered breath and presses his forehead to yours when you begin to stroke him, the ring of your fingers catching under the sensitive head of his cock on the upstroke. toge's mouth drops open when you lick your palm and curl your slick fingers tighter around him, patting his thigh to encourage him to fuck upwards into your closed fist. a shaky breath leaves his lips at the way the leaking tip parts your fingers, peeking out like he's fucking into a hole.

with your other hand, you unzip his collar and undo his jacket buttons so it hangs open to reveal the light pink flush at the base of his throat that descends into the neck of his form-fitting black undershirt. your hum of approval mixes with his bitten-off moan when you grope at his pectorals and tug at his perked up nipples.

fuck, he mouths, tugging at your shirt so you'll look at his face, his lips. they’re slightly parted, the marking on his tongue peeking out from between his teeth. the faces he makes when you touch him are always so erotic, the lewd expressions at odds with his wide, innocent eyes with their thick lashes and the slight roundness to his cheeks with the bit of baby fat he's yet to lose.

"does it feel nice?" you ask, hoarse with desire, and he nods, eyes falling shut at the tight, wet slide of your hand around him. just as his eyes close, you stop stroking him and smack the underside of his cock with a flattened palm.

toge’s eyes pop open and he gives a choked shout. he jerks and squeezes his thighs together, effectively trapping your hand between them, his hands clutching the front of your shirt as he leans his weight on you. really, why does he even try to resist? you sigh and pinch his nipples with your free hand, pulling and twisting to the point of pain. toge's thighs quake around your hand and he lets out a strained, "ah, bonito flakes..." his chest arches into you despite the rough treatment, seeking more of your attention.

you kiss his open mouth, which he belatedly responds to, distracted by your fingers switching from pinching to lightly stroking across his sensitive nipples, and he moans in earnest when you suck on his bottom lip, releasing it only when you're sure it's hot and swollen. "so sloppy, baby," you murmur against his mouth, letting the vibrations from your words buzz against his lips. "you left the door open and looked through my stuff, then didn't even have the decency to clean up the mess you made. did you think you could just get away with all that?"

“mmh...” is his intelligent response, too engrossed in the physical stimulation to come up with anything else. you nudge his thighs open from where they’re clamped around your hand and cup his balls, stroking them gently and then increasing the pressure of your grip until you're squeezing them hard between your fingers. he squirms, discomfort clear on his face and dazed pleasure in his eyes, but he doesn’t pull your hand away or tell you to stop. a jolt of pride at how good he is brings a smile to your face, and you release him.

“good boy. put the panties on now, please.”

he sheds his jacket and steps out of his pile of clothes on the ground, and you admire how the muscles in his legs bunch as he raises them one by one to slide them through the leg holes of your panties (woefully wrinkled after being crushed in his hand). the satiny fabric fits snug around his hips and stretches thin over his erection, the straps creating a sinful pattern against his pale skin and accentuating his lower abdominal muscles. when he turns to climb onto the bed, your eyes are drawn to the tantalizing way the panties strain over the round globes of his ass, with the undersides of his cheeks peeking out, and you can't help but bite your lip and reach out to swat at his ass.

the thin fabric doesn't provide much cushioning, and he throws you an affronted look over his shoulder as he settles against the pillows. you shuck your clothes and deposit them on top of his before joining him on the bed.

toge gives you a sly smile when you settle an arm's length away between his spread legs. he loves to watch you as much as he loves being watched by you. sure enough, you tell him, "touch yourself for me," and he eagerly wraps a hand around his clothed cock. his expression goes soft as you sit back on your calves, legs spread wide, and tease yourself by running your fingers up and down your wet slit, dipping inside and trailing back up to graze over your clit before repeating the motions again.

from your seat, you can clearly see the way his length juts out from his hips, obscenely tenting the fabric of the panties and straining over the wet head with each pass of his hand. it's barely enough friction for him to get off, the tease of pleasure more frustrating than anything, but what the smooth slide of material over his skin lacks it makes up for in eroticism. the rustle of fabric as he touches himself and the way his precum bubbles up clear before being blotted away by the panties makes you groan and sink two fingers into your heat, which in turn makes him moan and fist his cock harder, his gaze dipping between your face and your fingers working between your spread thighs. the look on toge's face is helplessly turned on as he imagines his cock making those slick in-and-out noises instead of your fingers, wrapped in your soft, hot insides and pulling sweet whines from your throat with each press of his hips into yours.

"ah, toge," you sigh. your clit aches as you purposefully neglect it, instead fucking yourself with your fingers at the same pace toge desperately fucks up into his hand. it feels good but it's not enough, and imagining the heavy weight of his cock buried in you instead of your fingers has you panting and curling your fingers to insistently press into the spot that makes your thighs shake and squeeze together, heat curling in your belly.

toge mindlessly slips two fingers past the waistband to stroke the underside of his length and his hips rise off the bed, chasing the feeling of bare skin on skin. he hears you gasp and belatedly asks your permission to properly touch himself with a hoarse, "mustard leaf?"

"go ahead, baby."

he complies by shoving his hand under the fabric, thighs trembling at the rough slide of his palm against his heated skin and synthetic material damp with precum against his knuckles. his head tilts back in rapture before he snaps it upright again, jerking his cock faster, harder as he watches how you reach up to pinch your nipples, your hips tilting and bearing down on your fingers in a mesmerizing cycle. you don't stop him, the look in your eyes egging him on. he thinks you intend for him to get himself off like this and he pants loudly, eyes rolling back at the thought of creaming in your panties.

but then you sink forward onto all fours and knock his wrist away, pinning it to the bed with wet fingers, and he makes a questioning noise that quickly devolves into a shaky noise of pleasure when you dip down and stroke the sensitive underside of his cock with your tongue. the slightly salty taste of precum blooms on your tongue as you lap at the tip and then flatten your tongue to rub at the spot under the head. toge's hips buck up when you squeeze his inner thigh hard enough to leave a bright pink mark and his free hand latches onto your shoulder, creeping up to cup the back of your neck and reverently stroke your hair. your hand, the one not holding his down, slides under his shirt and up his chest to play with his nipples again. with a pleased hum, you suck the fat head of his cock into your mouth, letting your saliva pool and soak the fabric barring his skin from the wet heat of your mouth.

shuddering in pleasure, he pulls the shirt off, reluctantly removing his hands from you to tug his arms out of the sleeves and toss it over the edge of the mattress before lovingly returning his hands to you, one in your hair and the other cupping your cheek and feeling your jaw move with each rasp of your tongue over him. the front of the panties are a mess, soaked through with his precum and your saliva, and toge is flushed down his neck to the top of his chest with a combination of arousal and humiliation.

satisfied with the way his cock throbs insistently for more, you lift your head and press a brief kiss to his palm before gazing up at him.

"should i fuck you now?”

toge gives a frantic couple of nods, and you tug his cock out and scoot up onto his hips so you can sit on it. a low moan leaves his mouth as the tip sinks in, and you look up from where you're joined with him to watch his expression change from dazed to euphoric as you seat yourself fully with a shiver.

even after prepping yourself with two fingers, his length and girth leave you feeling almost uncomfortably full, and you lean forward and bury your face in his neck to give yourself some time to savor the feeling of him deep inside you. toge groans again at your breaths hitting his damp skin and makes a noise that sounds vaguely embarrassed when your mouth finds his neck. the way his collar shields his face and neck leaves him especially sensitive to any kind of stimulation once it's off, and you feel his body go limp when you leave a trail of wet, sucking kisses from his jaw down to his collarbone. his chest heaves under your palms, filling with air in between his moans. it's not until he feels your tongue and teeth that he squirms under you like he's protesting at the hickies you're giving him.

"shut up," you snap, though it comes out breathy and low with the way his cock pulses inside you. each little jerk of his cock creates a momentary stretch that draws a whine from your throat, which you muffle by busying yourself in nipping at his neck. hands tight on your hips, toge moans helplessly as you suck and bite at his damp skin, soothing the sting of each mark with a wet kiss and a sweep of your tongue. "don't want everyone knowing you're my little slut?"

"bonito flakes," he rasps, squeezing your hips. you give him a patronizing little hum but acquiesce, switching to pressing rough kisses down his throat while you grind your clit against his pelvis, inadvertently pulsing your insides around him. he knows he'll likely pay for it later, but with the way you're teasing him and squeezing his cock with your pussy, he can't help planting his feet on the bed and thrusting up into you. you gasp in surprise against his throat and grind down to meet his hips, pushing yourself up on your hands to see his mouth hanging open and his cute fringe mussed and clinging to his face, sticky with sweat.

"toge, harder..."

always eager to please, toge slides his hands underneath you to squeeze your butt and lift you partially off him so he can thrust into you properly. the headboard bangs against the wall as his pace quickens, unable to stop himself from instinctively seeking more of your warmth. your eyes roll back at the onslaught of sensations—toge moaning as he shoves his cock deep into you, delirious with how hot and tight you are, the lewd slapping of his hips against your ass, the fat head of his cock carving a hot path into you and rubbing your walls—and your insides give a hard pulse, your orgasm coiling low in your belly. toge lets out a strangled gasp, hips stuttering, and you wind a hand into his hair and tug.

"don't come yet," you rasp, "finish me first."

toge cries out in protest and you lean over to silence him by smothering him with your breasts. he muffles a pathetic whimper by frantically sucking a nipple into his mouth. tears clump his long lashes together but he continues fucking you, barely holding on as you gasp and press his face into your chest. his tongue flicks over your nipple, teeth nipping at your skin, drawing you closer to the edge until suddenly you're coming, the world narrowed down to the mindnumbing heat between your legs and the stretch of toge's length as it pumps in and out of you.

as you bury your face into his hair and shake from the force of your orgasm, toge detaches from your chest with a wet noise and a whine. his fingers dig painfully into your hips. you're so tight he can barely breathe, and it only takes another two, three thrusts before he's arching, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close and bury himself in your heat before he collapses, boneless against the sheets. you take a moment to admire your lover. his skin is flushed and his heart is still racing in his chest where it's pressed to yours.

toge's mouth meets yours in a languid kiss and he sighs in contentment, relaxing further under you with the lazy slip of your mouths and tongues together. as you stroke his hair, the movement of his lips slows, and you know it's time to clean up before he falls completely asleep.

you gingerly lift yourself up with a gasp and a shiver, toge echoing your gasp with a moan as his cock slips out of your warmth, and you reach into one of the nightstand drawers for a hand towel. he groans when you tap his hip, indicating that he should lift up to let you pull the soiled panties down his legs.

"let me clean you up, good boy."

you start with his face first, gently dabbing the sweat from his forehead and cheeks, before swiping the cloth over his neck and chest down to his belly and softening cock. he shivers and grumbles at the sensitivity but stays still otherwise. as you head into the bathroom to wash up, you hear him yawn and shift around on the mattress, likely making a bigger mess of your pillows and blankets as he gets comfortable. you toss the panties and used towel into a hamper before using the toilet and stepping into the shower for a quick wash.

when you exit the bathroom, you find toge comfortably sprawled across your bed with the blankets pulled up to his waist, positively looking like an angel as he sleepily blinks at you and pats the empty space next to him. he sighs contentedly and snuffles into your hair as you lie down with him. toge yawns softly and snuggles closer, likely aiming to nap until dinner. despite the tiredness in your limbs after a satisfying round of sex with your lover, the exhilaration of stumbling upon him in your panties and toying with him so thoroughly still humming beneath your skin keeps your mind awake, wandering through a multitude of tempting scenarios involving toge and other pieces in your closet.

"maybe i should stuff them in your mouth next time. you'd look so pretty gagged," you sigh, then hum in satisfaction at the mental image of him with a wad of lace shoved into his mouth, followed by how he'd look with a black ball gag nestled between his lips, chin wet with spit, his beautiful eyes looking up at you with desperation.

toge shoots up and jostles you from where you're lying half on top of him. "bonito flakes!" he says indignantly, trying to communicate how much he doesn't want something in his mouth preventing him from suckling on your tits or your fingers. you laugh and run a hand over his slightly damp back until he settles down with a disgruntled huff, pulling you closer until your breasts are pressed against his chest.

"one more thing, love," you say. he squirms at the way your words vibrate against the sensitive skin of his throat.

"mustard leaf?"

"if i catch you making a mess of my things again, i won't be as nice."

toge lets out a considering hum and turns his face into the pillow to hide his smirk.

[deceitfuldevil]

Cosmic Glitch

Baron Helmut Zemo X Reader

Summary: You always believed your soulmate was somewhere out there and that one day you'd see color, but the day you met him you refused to accept it. (soulmate AU! where you can't see color until you first look into your soulmates eyes)

Warnings: use of y/n, swearing I think?, poorly written, clearly from my drafts, headcannon turned imagine, fluff <3

Word Count: 2.2K

You had always been close with Sam ever since you served in the Air Force together, you were always up for any mission or task he needed help with.

After everyone was blipped back you had lost your job, so when Sam called you up asking you to tag along on a mission and promised compensation you couldn't turn him down.

You met Sam and Bucky in the garage and when the infamous Helmut Zemo walked in you locked eyes with him, and a fit a color exploded before you.

Zemo had stopped mid sentence

“I really don’t think I’m—“

Your heart sank deep into your chest

“Oh no” you said barely above a whisper.

“I uh, I’m not useful to this operation” he finished, stumbling over his words. Which you'd learn later on was very uncharacteristic of him.

You just stared at him as he nodded at you, a quiet hello.

Your luck was just impeccable wasn’t it? Zemo? Helmet fucking Zemo? It had to be him? The man that tore apart the avengers and bombed the UN for Christ sake! He was a fucking criminal!

The plane ride to Madripoor was above all else, awkward.

You barely spoke, not even making eye contact with anyone unless directly spoken to.

“You alright Y/n?” Sam asked, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You only nodded a small yes, feeling your soulmates prying eyes burning holes into the sight of Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n, such a pretty name. I love the way it rolls off the tongue. Y/n.” Zemo said, toying with the sound of your name on his lips. Flustering you, but angering Bucky.

“Cool it Zemo, she’s just a kid.” He warned. Causing Zemo to wave Bucky off with his hand as he took a sip of his warm champagne.

But Bucky was right, you were just a kid. Your soulmate, the Baron for Christ sake, had to be at least 20 some years older than you.

Why did fate set you up with a man that was an adult before you were even born? Didn’t he have a wife before the battle of Sokovia? Maybe this was some kind of cosmic glitch.

I mean, it had to be... right?

Of course you wouldn’t be able to shake the Baron so easily, especially not when you needed a secret cover to pose as in Madripoor

There was only one role for you to play being so new on the “superhero” scene that you were unknown and considering you didn’t look like a single high profile criminal out there.

The Barons fiancé. His schatzi.

Obviously, you couldn’t just show up to a bar in low town in your suit either, so Zemo being ostentatious man that he is came prepared in the worst way possible.

You closed the door to first class and zipped open the black dress bag that Zemo handed you, telling you it would fit well with the part you were due to play.

A very short velvety plum dress sat in front of your color bound eyes. Ridiculously tall heels to match.

It was never something you’d wear out, you’d never have the confidence to wear such a short and expensive dress out to a bar of all places. But the material felt so good and with the new blessing of colored sight almost made you satisfied with outfit presented.

But you walked out fully dressed and maintained your attitude.

“Who am I supposed to be? A high-end hooker?” You quipped, trying to pull the hem of the dress down as far as it would go.

“You, schatzi, will be playing the part of my fiancé.” Zemo said simply. Fixing the cufflink on his left arm.

You stood there awestruck at what he had just said to you. It was hard enough for you to try and ignore that he was your soulmate but now you had to play the part?

“Oh, and you’ll be needing this” he said, digging into his pocket and flicking a ring at you. You caught it, examining it and gasping softly. You had never seen a diamond so big.

You slipped it on your finger, it fit perfectly. Which, made you smile to yourself in a way you knew you shouldn’t have.

He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. He’s a criminal, he’s a psychopath. You continually repeated to yourself the whole ride to low town, allowing yourself to think for even a second that just because he was your soulmate meant that he was a good person was not in the books. You simply couldn’t do it.

But as you arrived in the deeper part of Madripoor Zemo informed everyone that they must play their role to a T, because their lives depended on it.

As the car stopped Zemo walked around the side and opened the door for you, grabbing your hand and leading you out. Pressing a gentle kiss to your hand as you stood upright.

You eyes trailed up to his as a blush became evident on your face, when you locked eyes, boom, another shockwave of color screamed into your eyes. You saw the detailing in his fur collar, the bright neon signage all around, the gold detailing in Bucky’s vibraium arm, all of it.

You wanted to see color forever, you hated knowing that if you went without seeing Zemo for too long, the color would fade out.

In ordeal at the bar came and went, the business with Selby is where things got interesting and simultaneously made you nervous.

For some reason it’s almost as if Zemo could sense this because he squeezed your hand tightly and you both sat down on the couch across from Selby.

After everyone else had either been introduced or acknowledged, all that was left was you.

“And who’s this pretty little thing you’ve got yourself here Zemo?” Selby asked, clearing prodding knowing he’d been married before.

“This...” he trailed off, grabbing your left hand to show off the ring “is my beautiful fiancé” he finished

“Oh, got yourself a little trophy wife after the other one kicked the can huh?" She added, staring down the large rock sitting on your finger.

“That’s very sweet of you to think, but this one here is my soulmate. The first woman to ever make me see in color.” Zemo said, his words so sweet honey might as well as been dripping off his tongue. His gaze turned to you, boom, another bright flash of color that made a shiver run down your spine.

“Oh how sweet, but I don’t believe it.” Selby said with a grin, Sam and Bucky tensed up slightly. Siding with Selby because they too didn’t believe Zemo when he referred to you as his soulmate.

“Test me.” You challenged, stupidly if I may add.

“Excuse me?” Selby asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you

“If you don’t believe we’re soulmates, test me. I can name any color you’d like.” You continued, a part of you always looking for a challenge, the other part also wanting to test yourself see if maybe this whole color thing was faulty or one-ended.

“Fine, we’ll start easy. What’s the color of that slutty dress you’ve got on?” She asked, angry that you challenged her

“Easy, the same color as my soulmates turtle neck. A deep purple, plum if you will.” You said carefully caressing the material of Zemo’s shirt

“You could’ve been told that before you arrived, what about my lipstick?” She pressed as she pursed her lips out

“A cheap magenta” you deadpanned, done with her games. She scoffed at you.

“And this couch?” She asked grinning, patting the cushion beside her.

“Trick question. It’s a old a dirty worn out pattern, it has no specific color” you said with a fake smile, Zemo’s hand snaking around your waist as he pulled you a little closer.

The room fell silent just long enough for things to feel awkward before Selby started laughing uncontrollably.

“Well Baron, the universe certainly has picked you a handful! Now what business did you want to do with me again?” And just like that, it was over and you were suddenly running from bounty hunters on the streets.

When Sharon rescued the four of you the ride up to her place in high town was painfully silent. Zemo kept a firm hand on your thigh. Bucky stared off into space ashamed of how easily he fell back into form, and Sam sat on his thoughts wondering if you and Zemo were really soulmates.

No one really spoke to each other, just different conversations with Sharon. After what went down at the Bar and then with Selby... a mood was set, things had changed.

When Zemo stood up and announced he wanted to go join the party and made his way towards the exit you told Bucky you’d keep on eye on him. Sam wanted to protest but at that point you both were already out the door.

You sat from afar watching Zemo on the floor of the club horribly attempting to dance along with the rest of the party-goers. When you laughed a little to yourself he looked up at you, boom, that beautiful shock of color again. It never got old.

But you quickly averted your eyes and disappeared from his gaze as you went to the bar for a drink. When the bartender slid your drink over suddenly Zemo was at your side announcing he’d pay for it.

Zemo started to snake his hand around your waist once more but this time you smacked his hand away

“We’re not playing house anymore, Baron.” You told him, using his formal title.

“But you see what I see, do you not?” He asked, tentatively reaching for your hand.

“See what?” You asked, avoiding his burning gaze. You knew damn well what he was taking about but refused to admit to even yourself. He was a horrible man, a criminal, a rich psychopath! It ached your heart that someone with such a shitty past was who you were meant to be with for the rest of your life.

“The beautiful colors. I see your bright eyes, your sleek hair, those sweet pink lips. Now color is all around me too, I can see the colors of the club. I see the blue radiating off that light, the red in this drink you ordered, the green that lady’s hair! You love opened my eyes, Y/n. With you, I can see.” Zemo pressed on, smiling as he looked in awe at all the colors around him. He placed his hand gently over yours. You flinched but didn’t move away from his touch

“But this has to be wrong. I can’t be the person for you. You had a wife and kids right? Didn’t they bring any color into your life?” You asked, feeling a warm heat rise to your cheeks from the small contact you two were now sharing

“I loved my wife and son sure, but they were always grey to me. Remember that I’m a Baron, when you’re royalty your marriage options aren’t as wide as the universe has set for you.” He pointed out, taking your hand and slowly rubbing your knuckles.

“Still surely this has to be some kind of universal glitch! I mean you’re what? 20 some years older than me? What about all the horrible shit you’ve done? You’re a criminal! I was made to be a hero! We don’t mix, let alone fall in love!” You babbled on

“Listen, y/n. I am not proud of my past, I was a grief stricken man who had just lost his wife and child along with his entire country. I was only doing what I believed to be right at the moment, is that not what you try to do as well?” He asked, trying to find similarities between the two of you. Some common ground.

“Zemo I—“ you started, turning to face him and looking into his hazel brown eyes again and feeling that boom of color that would never get old, but did make you lose your train of thought.

“Zemo I’m scared” you finished off, your planned statement turning into a confession. You didn’t take your eyes off his this time as he stared back down at you. Bring his free hand to your cheek he smiled softly.

“I’m scared too, schatzi. But the feeling you give me makes me feel like everything is going to be alright. Stay with me, ride this out and see where it goes. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry, sport cars, you name it and I’ll buy it for you. I’ll fly you any place you’ve ever wanted to go, show you every sight you’ll ever need to see.” He tools breathe, a single tear slipping down his face.

“Please, let’s give this a shot.” He ended. Nine years with losing your wife, child, country, and being imprisoned for a few years really changed a man; and made him that much more desperate for someone like you, his soulmate, to stay.

And stay you did. The first year was rocky wrapping things up with the super soldiers on the loose and clearing Zemo’s name in the eyes of the Power Broker and the UN. Based on his efforts to take down the last of the super soldiers and good words from Sam and Bucky his sentence was reduced to one year under house arrest, which made for a great way to get to know each other better.

The years after that were far beyond smooth sailing, they were dare you even say perfect. You traveled the world with Zemo, lived the most lavish life, saw the most amazing things.

All in color.

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them. 

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?” 

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” 

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself. 

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts. 

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar. 

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep. 

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing. 

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like. 

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift. 

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu. 

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite​ @booksarekindaneat​ @wonderless-screwup​ @pinkninja200​ @captain-jebi​ @ajeff855​ @leias-rebelion​ 

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

[yanderart]

He caught you when no one else did; defeated you when no one else could. Whether you liked to admit it or not, Eraserhead had clearly proven his worth.

So why didn't you prove yours, little villain?

Another portrait for my POV yandere series, this time of Aizawa. Got a few people requesting me to draw/write for him so hopefully y'all enjoy it 🖤

Below the cut, as customary for the series, is a longshot one-shot that delves further into the backstory (Aizawa x Villain Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 8k).

TWs: dub-con, graphic smut, Bad Bondage Etiquette, degradation/humiliation, brat (villain) taming, cumplay and slight bimbofication. Scumbag Aizawa is real.

— — —

   The day you met Eraserhead, looking back, saying your worries had been misplaced would be an understatement. With not being apprehended and losing street cred at the very top of your list, it was decidedly easy to skip over any of the other big red-lettered warnings.

   You first felt the tickle in your nape while you carried your acquisitions across downtown Musutafu, accompanied by the familiar presage of someone watching your every movement. The city around you was bustling, as was the norm, as loud and meandering in its complaints as a chronically diseased elder, yet the alleys you took as shortcuts grew quieter and quieter with each step. 

   It was eerie, alarming, and a platitude of other adjectives you shamefully chose to neglect. 

   “So this is the great V/N in the flesh,” the lazy cadence of someone calling out your alias froze you mid-step, the way his owner dragged each syllable telling you he hadn’t yet decided whether you were worth wasting his breath on. 

   Your body was responding before you even had a chance to properly process the threat, running on instinct and muscle memory as you twirled to face the mysterious man and prepared to...

   “Cute dress, kid.” Eraserhead in the flesh stood barely a few feet away, glowing scarlet orbs illuminating his preternaturally blank expression and transforming it instead into a visage of pure intimidation. “Didn’t pitch you for the frilly type.”

   The growing panic in your chest put a hitch in your breath as you stared back. Yet you couldn’t help but still try, fruitlessly hoping—hands clenched, nails puncturing your own flesh as you tried to force your dormant quirk awake. And all for naught, considering your efforts were only repaid by the hatchet of your sinking realization being buried even deeper. 

   Although, the Pro-Hero also appeared to notice your meager attempts, taking a few steps closer to your form with a condescending gleam in his otherwise somber features. 

   Before you were conscious of what you were looking at (and before you had half a mind to attempt a quirkless attack on the hero), you observed the weapon wrapped around his neck unfolding fluidly, the extensions of fabric reaching out to envelop you in a forceful embrace that left your arms tucked to your sides and your back uncomfortably straightened. 

   “Better to trap you before you get any wild ideas. It’s your fault you’re in this position in the first place anyways,” he was taunting you, prodding you and poking you as you found yourself completely at his mercy, uselessly struggling much in the same way many of your victims had surely felt in their last few moments at your hands. 

   "Eraserhead," his pseudonym resembled an insult on your tongue, your rage and resentment making for rather colorful enhancements. "Don’t you have anything better to do than trapping helpless girls with this weapon of yours? Didn't peg you for a pervert."

   Usually, you managed to reign in some of your nastier attitudes, channeling them into your quirk and the violence you could inflict with it…

   But tied up and under the influence of his own ability as you were? All you had was pettiness. 

   "You can dress up as a civ all you want. Won't be fooling me." He took several steps, closing the distance between you two with barely the hint of a smile morphing his stern expression.  

   You could see the faint stubble on his handsome face from this up close, blood-shot eyes that refused to blink as they studied you in ample detail. Could even see the scar carved onto one of his cheekbones, a textured promise of the fight he had survived and now wore as a medal. 

   Such was your luck, that the Pro to finally catch up with you had to be this rugged scumbag. 

   "I'm not even engaging in any criminal activities, Eraseridiot." Your insult was terrible, but you were never much of a verbal sparrer. Not when you could use your fists instead. "What are you gonna send me to the pigs for? I know my rights."

   And you did. So when the condescension on the lazy hero's face turned into a full-on expression of mockery as he approached your "bag of acquisitions," you audibly gulped. Goddamn stalker couldn't have been following you for that long? Could he? 

    If only you knew. 

   "Then," he held up the bag with an indolent brand of interest, the contents dangling tauntingly from his clutch. "How do you explain this over here? I reckon even dirt like you knows what stealing qualifies as." His other hand dived for the contents and before you could voice any protest, cheeks blushing furiously, a slow hint of a chuckle was bobbing his adam's apple. "It would be a fun thing to peg you down for, though."

   That damned weapon of his didn't give out an inch as you started to furiously struggle, becoming instead impossibly tighter with each futile attempt at freeing yourself.

   "You fucking psycho, is this your sick way of trying to pick me up or something?"

   But your quip did not deter him at all (if anything, it spurred him on). The hand inside the bag tensed for a moment before he was retrieving the sole object inside. To say mortification was written all over your face would be an understatement. 

   A dark pantyhose now hung from Eraserhead's nimble fingers, not a second being wasted by the Hero before he proceeded to bring it up to his face, carelessly stretching the garment until you could see every single one of his features through the sheer material. The way the moonlight caught in it, bouncing off and bathing his patronizing face, made for uncomfortably intimate imagery. 

   (Yet a part of you, one you would never admit existed if further questioned, also could not help but notice the striking attractiveness of it all, making you want to squirm for completely different reasons while the man continued to exert his quirk on you through the fabric of your fucking lingerie.)

   "Gotta say, didn't take you for a pantyhose kind of gal either. Girls like you…" He uttered the last part more like an afterthought, tossing the bag aside before his hands continued toying with the tights absentmindedly. "Are suited for something like fishnets much more."

   By that point, you were sure he was just playing with you. You were such a harmless joke, restrained and showcased like a prize for his viewing pleasure.

   "Reckon you must own quite a few pairs, uh?" He continued egging you on when you failed to give a timely enough answer. 

   (Perhaps the fact that he so easily guessed that detail should’ve been your first real warning, too.)

   Yet you couldn’t help how his condescension and the downright dirty way he stared at you sent dark shivers up your spine, the threat he represented turning strangely alluring under the dim street lights illuminating you both. 

   As a villain, you had robbed, murdered, set people ablaze, and even stolen a popsicle or two from some crying kids. So why were Eraserhead's words having such an effect on you? Why did, a part of you deep down, seemed enthused by the awful way in which he was speaking to you?

   "You don't have any proof I stole them. I just threw away the receipt after I bought them. Very environmentally unconscious of them, too, when electrical ones are a thing."

   Now you were just rambling. What an adorable sight. 

   "Hmm, never thought I'd hear "environmentally unconscious" being uttered by a two-bit criminal." He stopped stretching the lingerie for a moment, thoughtfully scratching at his incipient stubble with his free hand instead, "Are you really trying to sell me the good samaritan angle?"

   To his credit too, he seemed genuinely puzzled by your approach for an instant. Guess even an experienced pro like him still had room to be shocked. 

   "I'm not trying to sell you anything, imbecile." The snobbishly controlled tone of yours was back, the shaking of panic subsiding while you held onto your only hope of leaving this confrontation unscathed. "And my rights clearly state you need proof to apprehend me. Need causality to exert your quirk on me, too, or you would be the one breaking the law." 

   Now, Eraserhead wasn’t annoyed per se. You could tell from what little he had already spoken (and from the myriad of cautionary tales you had been told) that little could rattle the man at all, but your comment definitely appeared to intrigue him. It made you feel like an animal being studied, pinned down, and ready to be dissected for his own morbid curiosity.

   "Isn't this just rich?" His tone was almost lethargic, words dragging on with a faint rumble. "Are you going to run off to the police, then? Tell them how a Pro trapped you and tried turning you in for a very obvious act of theft?", his eyebrows were raised, eyes more awake despite his monotone voice carrying on. "Be my guest then."

   Because of course you were all bark, no bite and he was more than willing to call you out on your shit. So instead of continuing down that route, you decided to veer for a new approach, switching from your assortment of insolent tactics. 

   "Do you get off on this, then?" Your voice morphing into meekness while you adopted an expression of distress, bottom lip jutting out with the sparkle of thinly veiled sarcasm glimmering in your eyes. "Do you like thinking of yourself as the Big Bad Hero, maybe?" And you could tell by the way the incipient smile froze on his lips that your question had caught him off guard. Made you wanna press even harder, "Do you like the idea of taking a defenseless little girl into an alley and showing her just how bad you can be? Maybe planned on teaching me a lesson, is that it?"

   His frown mimicked yours now, no longer any hints of cruel enjoyment on his part. His eyes still glowed red, but he was now squinting ever so slightly, zeroing in on you not only due to the limits of his quirk but also due to the words rapidly continuing to escape your impudent mouth. 

   "Does Eraserhead like to fuck his lays into being law-abiding citizens? Is the power over someone else what really gets you off, perhaps?"

   It was like a spell was cast on the both of you. He couldn't drift his attention, his eyes couldn't stop scanning your face — quickly flickering from the hatred coloring your gaze to the slight quiver of frustration shaking your lips. The hand which he still used to grab your stockings was now a closed fist, knuckles growing pale from the poorly contained strength.

   "Bet you plotted this entire thing, you creep. Wanted to take me behind an alley and show me my place." Your taunts were becoming increasingly more risqué, the anger blurring your sense of preservation—and the hint of something else too, a secret excitement you were unwilling to recognize. "Wanted to have me all submissive and obedient under you, surely. Show me what a scary hero cock can do, is that it?"

   But instead of earning another entertaining grimace, you had a first-row seat to the rapidly darkening expression on his face. Eyes squinted at the same time that the bandages settled even tighter around you, cutting off your breath for a moment before relenting just enough not to suffocate you. 

    And that's when you first felt it for the first time, just when your jests died on your lips and you drank on his foreboding reaction. The grip of Eraserhead's quirk, more constricting than any ropes, wavering faintly around the prison he had constructed around you; the distinct buzzing in your hands returning for a mere instant before flickering out again.

   Now that was interesting.

   "Should watch what you're saying," the pro-hero sounded gruff, voice tinted by a new kind of intensity.

   Like a shark smelling the smallest whiff of blood, you couldn’t help your instincts urging you to dial down. 

   "Always knew you hero types had a hard-on for the power trips. Bet you were using all of this as a decoy. Is this when you strip me and hold me down? When you plow me into the floor of this alley and tell me to "behave or else"?" 

   You knew your jabs were going too far, getting too brazen… yet as much as you enjoyed making the Pro visibly uncomfortable, once he decided to close the distance between you two there was little you could do to stop yourself from flinching. A fire inhabited his expression, the vivid brightness emanating from his stare not only intimidating, but downright frightening too.

   "Are you trying to rile me up?" His hand gripped your face with force, bandages shifting until they were enveloping your neck, holding you up and forcing you to reciprocate his glare, "What do you think will you achieve by antagonizing me even more, V/N?"

   You just looked at him through your eyelashes, still somehow managing to play up the innocent act through the layers of fear settling in. And as expected, it only served to further his irritation, calloused fingers digging even deeper into your cheeks and coaxing the claws of terror to continue trailing their nails all around you. 

   "I’m just trying to understand you, Eraserhead." The way you smiled at him was defiance personified despite it all, your tongue wetting your lips while you caught his eyes following the movement. There was the slightest give of his quirk again, a fluctuation in his concentration informing you that you were finally on the right track. "And I think, given the fact that I haven’t been cuffed yet, that we can both still come to a mutual agreement."

   Fingers twitched around your jawline, muffling your words while your sides were squished together harshly. But even manhandling you, the Hero couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes, an interest you foolishly believed to be ignited by your former comments. 

   "So you are indeed trying to rile me up then." It was an assertion, not a hint of doubt in his leisure intonation. 

   Instead of replying this time, you just slowly blinked his way, observing your imitation of meekness reflected in a gaze that refused to abandon yours. It had been so long since you last tried to play coy, so long since you needed to depend on anything besides your own strength and ruthlessness. You couldn’t help the thrill you got from playing the role. 

   "Think you’ll get me distracted enough to break away, I bet." He was whispering directly against your skin after getting dangerously closer, the heat from his cushioned lips provoking an involuntary shiver. "Do you believe nobody else tried this approach before, little villain?"

   You gulped, feeling caught before you even had time to properly set the stage. 

   "I wasn’t..."

   "Weren’t what, trying to seduce me?" There was a sense of levity hidden somewhere under his timbre, stored between words that kept dragging on in a mantle of aloofness. "Or did you not mean any of your words?"

   When you didn’t reply, you could feel the cruel smile resurfacing against your earlobe. 

   "If I lift your dress right now, do you think I’ll have my answer?" His question sounded almost casual, as weightless as your alias had been when he first called you out. 

   Your heartbeat sang in your chest, an anxious hummingbird trapped inside your ribcage. Because you knew the answer, you both did. 

   When the hand still clutching your bunched hosiery came up to press the fabric against your thighs, you could not help the gasp that escaped you.

   "I bet all those things you were just saying…" His tone drifted off as the stockings were slowly guided up the vastness of your legs, fingers barely grazing you through the thin layer of the stolen undergarments. He was thoroughly teasing you, enjoying the manner in which your expression contorted in response. "You just want me to do them to you, don’t you?"

   Even if you would’ve wanted to object, the pressure of his nylon-covered digits finally reaching your dampened panties was enough to kill any possible refusal. He traced the outline of your slit, soft touches running across it with deceitful lightness, and your mind became positively staggered as you were rendered overwhelmed by his actions. 

   You didn’t have to worry about his next move for long, either, because barely a moment’s notice passed before his entire palm was eagerly covering your crotch. And the new way in which he groped you was demanding, the heel of his wrist putting just enough pressure to drag a shamefully loud mewl from you. 

   The douchebag even had the gall to laugh at your reaction, the sound of his mirth prompting you to writhe even harder as he continued to feel you up through your rapidly soaking underwear. 

   "Knew you’d be a slutty one." His breath was hoarse against the side of your face, the stubble on his jaw scratching against your skin in a way which made you wonder how it would feel pressing elsewhere. "So fucking wet, it must hurt being this eager."

   He didn’t specify what exact kind of pain he meant, whether your growing need for release or the insufferable blow all of this represented to your pride. Somehow, though, you had an inkling that he was referencing both. 

   "Wanna show me just how needy you are?" His words echoed with each laboured breath of his, one of the few signs you had that he was clearly very much into the whole affair despite his detached demeanor. "Maybe you could show me more of your adorable little cries." 

   As Eraserhead rutted his palm against you another time, you found your hips lowering down to chase the feeling much to your own chagrin, more moans making their way out of your panting mouth while he coaxed you to sing the notes of his preferred melody. 

   It was true that you hated his guts… but another fact was that you hadn’t had action in a long while either. Even with the threat of imprisonment hanging over you, you could not deny how desirable the idea to get to cum against that veiny hand of him was, to grip those muscular shoulders as you reached the perdition he was so tantalizingly offering. 

   Decidedly forgotten was your plan of you being the one distracting him. For fuck’s sake, you really were a needy whore. 

   "Why not show me how you cum for me in this alley, if you’re really that desperate?" His words kept getting cruder, his tongue tracing a languid stripe from your earlobe down to the side of your neck, a beautiful path of distractions threatening to dip your sanity even lower. "Be the dirty little villain that I know you are, doll."

   But just as soon as the stimulation was hitting you a second time, so it suddenly disappeared. One second fingers were flexing against your tender flesh, coated by your arousal through the layers of fabric separating you and fluttering with the promise of an impending release, and then the very next instant you were left to whimper (a villain like you, actually whimpering!) in the unbearable wake of their absence. 

   When your eyes searched for the Hero’s again, in his blown out pupils you could only dare interpret part of the enjoyment he was getting from watching you scram for his touch, beautifully bold handwriting spelling out arousal for all to read.  

   Watching you so easily betray your own ego after all of your lip service? More than simple music to his ears, it was an entire sonnet. 

   "But, now that I think of it, you were the one trying to walk away free from this. So why should you be the one getting pleasured?"

   Even in your precarious situation, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

   "Are you fucking kidding me?" Apparently, your discomfort at being denied was enough to forego your better senses.

   The bindings contracted around you in quick response to your insolence, your neck being craned even further and your arms mishandled until they were behind your back instead of at your sides, a sharp pain blooming from your shoulders as you struggled to adjust.

   Treated like this, he really did make you feel like a helpless little doll. (Goddamn, that thought alone was enough to have your juices gushing again, the trails of your excitement starting to make a mess of your inner thighs.)

   "You don’t get it, do you?" He asked in a despondent voice, unblinking eyes still refusing to abandon your face as he elaborated, "you should already be on your way to some second-rate villain prison, cuffed and muzzled and someone else’s problem."

   At his reminder of what you believed to be your impending fate, the mocking pout on your face transformed into a retelling of real horror. Because your spotless reputation was the one trick in your book that had managed to give you a sliver of notoriety over the rest of the unremarkable criminals, much more significant than any quirk or grandiose crime. 

   So for someone like you to lose that? You might as well hang up the villain costume and retire, for all anyone would care. (And yes, you had been called an attention whore a lot throughout your life, but who could blame you when you couldn’t help but thrive on it?)

   Sensing your spiraling thoughts, the Pro raised his eyebrows in an almost pitiful stint, as if he was truly empathizing with the agonized look of your face. 

   "I know you don’t want that, doll." As his declaration dragged on, the grip that had been steadying your jaw was swapped instead for the peculiar feeling of damp fabric —your pantyhose being pushed against your cheek and spreading your own juices around, all while Eraserhead intently studied the new wave of disgust coloring your features. "So why not show me that even a villain slut like you can behave? Give me a reason to believe that and..." The slickered garment was now pressing to your closed lips, your eyes starting to water with the weight of the humiliation you were being made to endure. "Maybe then I’ll consider letting you go."

    You knew he was lying, had every right to doubt the sincerity of his promise and, in its place, conclude he just meant to take advantage of you in your desperate state and then leave you for the pigs to find anyway. 

    You knew all of that, and yet you still opened your mouth and allowed him to do as he pleased. When he worked the pair of soiled stockings inside, you had troubles recognizing the pathetic sight being reflected your way from the wild hue of his gaze. 

   For someone who had always prided herself in being a predator, you had never looked more like prey.

   "Fuck, that’s it, doll." He pushed the piece further with his fingers, forcing you to stretch your lips until your jaw started to hurt from the strain. His fingers swirled inside, pressing the soaked material against the flat of your tongue and instructing you to eagerly lick it.

   You had never felt as debased in your entire life, being forced to choose between savoring your own arousal while tied up in an alley or ruining a reputation you had fought so earnestly to maintain. 

   (And yet your thighs were pressing together now, attempting to create some meager friction to alleviate a yearning that did nothing but shift, demand, grow.)

   "Look at you cleaning up your own mess," he almost sounded proud of you as you kept dutifully sucking, his other hand brushing your hair away from your shoulders in a strangely consoling way. "Seeing you all obedient like this, one could be fooled into thinking there is yet hope for reform."

   By the time the Hero finally took his hand away, bunching up the stockings before fitting them into one of the hidden pockets of his dark costume, you thought you could discern a mocking smile through the clouds of tears.

   "But now, now, doll… are you gonna keep crying or do you wanna try and take proper care of me next?"

   Not finding it in yourself to raise your voice again, you instead opted to wet your lips hesitantly as you awaited for him to elaborate further. There was a question dying to be asked, struggling somewhere alongside the myriad of insolent retorts and insults you wished you could swing the Hero’s way without being harshly reprimanded. 

   "I wouldn’t call that proper exactly," a chuckle reverberated from the back of his throat, gravely and dark as he misrepresented your movements. Fingers still slick from your saliva caressed your bottom lip, massaging it in a way which played straight into the undermining tilt of his words. "Although I’m sure you must be dying to wrap your pretty lips around my cock. Would give you a good reason to stay quiet, uh?"

   You really had been intending not to fall for his obvious goading, not trying to give the Pro anymore reasons to be harsh with you (or even worse, give him an excuse to leave you alone and to a fate worse than his company ever would be). 

   Had tried so hard too, but the cocky villain in you could only take so much degradation before it snapped. 

   "Goddamn it, are you trying to fuck me or bore to death?" As for the slight quivering in your voice, you dearly hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it. 

   Predictably enough, that slip earned you another harsh tug from the capture weapon, your whole body pulled back until you thought you were about to be snapped. 

   "I was just about to praise you for being all sweet for me, V/N." The switch from his pet names to your alias felt like a bucket of ice being dumped on you, voice a slow drawl while he tugged once more from your bottom lip, but this time harsh enough to have you wincing. "I’m trying to teach you how to be a proper girl, so don’t make me regret it. Or would you prefer to go take a prolonged vacation in a holding cell?"

   He already knew your answer judging by the way his eyes coldly studied you, unearthing the secrets you uselessly attempted to hide with an ease that unnerved you (and, as much as you loathe to admit, fascinated you). 

   When he tugged at your mouth again, nails sinking just enough to be noticeable, you knew he was expecting a verbal answer. And a nice one, at that. 

   "Then fucking get on with it…" Words slurred at the end, caught up in the increasingly somber aura of your captor before you swallow thickly, quickly adding as an afterthought, "Please."

   At that, his scowl receded enough for some satisfaction to find its way back into his grimace.

   The more you struggled, the sweeter your surrender became.  

   "Not perfect, but better," he conceded with a thoughtful hum.

   If you had properly studied just who he was beyond his active Heroism, then you would’ve understood just how accustomed he was to insubordination. If anything, your act only served to make him feel more at home.

   You had barely any time to wonder about whatever he had planned next though, because in an instant that damned contraction of his was moving you around once more, twisting you until you were facing the brick wall of the alleyway with heaving breaths. 

   Your legs were now maneuvered until you were forced to keep them apart just a smidgen, the new inviting space between your thighs surely a most intoxicating promise for the sick man manhandling you. And your back experienced pain afterwards too, harshly pushed until you had no option but to allow yourself to be pressed against the dirty walls; As a result, you found yourself with your ass backed up and for the world to see, the frilly skirt of your dress caught somewhere between all the movements.

   Yet even being roughed up as you were, when a hand reached out to tug your ruined underwear away you couldn't help greedily rutting into it, too worried by the fire gathering in your lower belly to care about maintaining a semblance of the reluctance you would later claim to have experienced. 

   It was almost comical for the Hero to observe the pathetic image you were now serving up on an ornate platter —especially when compared to the list of deviant crimes and horrors your spreadsheet of accomplishments preached. For all intents and purposes, you really were a horrible, messed up individual…

   So it was a wonder why his mind had kept supplying him with the same descriptor ever since he first saw you, the same sweet little word that he thought might as well be written all over your skin for how accurate it described you.

   A cute little doll (soon to be his cute little doll). Despite believing himself to be a fairly responsable Hero, the man had never wanted to play with anything as much as he did with you.

   The sound of a zipper being lowered was alarmingly loud in the emptiness of your surroundings, as loud as a wail to your sensitive ears. When you squirmed below your restraints, nonetheless, you could no longer pinpoint whether it was from unadulterated fear or a sick sense of anticipation.

   How easy it had been to break you, even if you would never recognize it openly.

   "Knew you were into it, and now watch your ass trembling in excitement for me." He was chuckling again, not pretending like the cruelty coating his words had any other intention but to degrade you further. It had been just his luck, to find the one villain who just so happened to enjoy it. "I really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I, doll?"

   When the lewd sound of one of his fists pumping his cock reached your ears, you didn’t even bother disguising the whines of complaint refusing to be contained any longer. 

   "Stop..." Words spilled from clenched teeth, growled out with an annoyance that no longer sought to defy, "Fucking..." but to demand instead, "Teasing."

   "Hmm, that’s cute. Why don’t you try begging me though?" His cadence was growing as bated as his breath, littered by intermittent curses as his eyes dined on the sight of your glistening core, held up and offered up for him to do as he pleased. "Beg for me to use you, and if you put on a good enough show I might just let you off."

   Another shiver rampaging it's way through your body, an exhilaration that could not be entirely pinpointed. 

   "Please…" You started, rough intonation dripping with venom —But Eraserhead didn't seem to mind the sardonic nature of your pleading though, not as you heard the litany of damnations being spilled from his lips. Your shameful excitement, your bitterness, your hatred… he would feast on it all and do it gladly. "Get on with it, bastard. Didn't anyone tell you never to toy with your food?"

   A low murmur was your only response at first, followed by the lewd sound of his pre-cum covered cock being harshly jerked.

   "Hmmm, aren't you being a bit too demanding…" His steps echoed again behind you, his unoccupied hand coming up to massage your ass with a rather firm grip. "Even with the begging, I don't think you've learned your place yet."

    When he planted a slap in the same place he had been eagerly caressing before, sharp and flaring up your nerves with the sting of pain and humiliation, you couldn't stop your scream from turning into a wanton little moan halfway through. 

   Even if he was hitting you, it still meant he was touching you, and so enticingly close to the place you actually needed tended to.

   "Do it…" your breathing was too heavy to speak in full fluid sentences, body flushed and mind filled with the buzzing of desire. "Do it again, fuck."

   You were still not begging him like he asked, but it seemed like your choice of words still greatly pleased him. Another slap rained on your ass, his big warm palm massaging the same reddening spot right after.

   And he kept going, the spanking echoing through your body and sending both pain and pleasured shivers up your spine—lewd sounds mixing in with the increasing pace of his other fist pumping his cock. Even without directly touching you, your pussy clenched and weeped with each firm hit. 

   "Damn, it's my first time meeting such a masochistic whore." Punctuated by his most painful slap yet, the globes of your ass left trembling and a furious shade of crimson to match his lust-filled eyes. "I can see why you've managed to stay free for so long, little villain." The debasement, paired with the pain of his firm strikes, had you moaning even louder. You couldn't even recognize your own sounds, nor the thrills you felt at this entire fucked up ordeal. "Wonder how many other Pros you showed this beautiful sight to."

   Even through the fog of sensations impeding you from being wholly coherent, though, you still couldn't help but want to set the record straight. 

   "None, fuck…" Words merging into another expectant whine when you felt his hand gripping your flesh again, only this time he was kneading you in an oddly tender way —Urging you on, fingers creeping closer to your needy hole. "I'm not… usually in the business of fucking Heroes. Shit, I hate this…" 

   But you didn’t, and when you were surprised by the warmth of his naked erection barely grazing the sensitive outer lips of your cunt, you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped you. 

   "Goddamn, V/N, even while you're an ill-mannered brat you still manage to know just what to say." 

   And then the older man was sliding his cock in the juncture of your thighs, teasing your core by pressing against it while grunts began to escape him. You thought you could cry from having him so close yet still not where you wanted him, but then his shallow thrusts against your legs proved to be much more stimulating than you first expected. 

   The fat head of his cock even managed to somewhat stimulate your puffy clit with its movements, pushing in its direction as your essence continued to leak out and cover you both. And It was so absolutely debauched, to think a Hero was using your thighs like a fucktoy while you were tied down and unable to stop it....

   But it felt so good. Even without him actually in you, you had never been this turned on before. 

   "More… ughhh," you were now screaming with the side of your face pressed flush against the disgusting brick walls, needy sounds filling the night and making it privy to your descent into madness.

   Another thrust, this time angled just precisely enough not to caress your pleasurable areas. Punishment, you feverishly thought while you attempted to wiggle your ass, eager to force more of that delicious friction you were quickly becoming hypnotized by. 

   "Now, V/N," his gruff voice had adopted a mocking tone of reprimand as he continued to rut against the soft skin of your thighs. "Haven't I taught you anything, yet? If you want something…" The hand returned to your heated skin, digits underneath you both spreading your pussy enough for the chilly night air to send shivers straight to your core. "You gotta say please."

   And say please you did. Screamed it even, so eager for more and already far beyond feeling any embarrassment. 

   He didn't fuck you, not like you really wanted, but suddenly his thick shaft was sliding between your lips as his capture weapon aided him in angling your body just right, pulsing against your hole while he found a new rythimn. When both of his hands returned, one of them held you back to make the process even easier while the other swiftly joined his cock in tending to your eager pussy.

   So lost were you in the new raw excitement seizing you, in the knowledge of just how messed up you both were for engaging in such debauchery —so distracted that you didn't even notice the faint buzzing returning to your arms, the vibrancy of an old frequency being reactivated and allowed to encapsulate you again.

   (You didn’t notice, but fuck if it didn’t made your orgasm all the sweeter.) 

   You were cumming like that, your moans resembling squeaks, your body feeling closer to a used fucktoy than a human being. The hero kept rutting against you, the joint efforts of his cock and hand mercilessly continuing to abuse your spasming cunt while your cries filled the space with their decadence. 

   You felt dirty, guilty, maybe even a little ashamed as the orgasm briefly gave you a clarity of mind your arousal had clouded.

   And yet, despite it all, it had been the best you felt in years, possibly ever. As the Pro now tugged your hair, forcing you to wrench your neck just enough to look at him over your shoulder, you couldn't help licking your lips in expectation of what he had in store next.

   "You're gonna show me your face next time you come, little villain." He gave you just enough time to nod, eyebrows drawn as your pleasure got impossibly dragged out by the stimulation he still bathed you with. "And you're gonna keep begging me, keep showing me why you deserve to stay free, okay?"

   It was commendable, how collected he managed to sound while thrusting into your thighs like that, the sounds of skin slapping against skin driving each of his words home. 

   "Yes, fuck, whatever you want…" Despite your senses shortly coming back earlier, you were still too far gone to rethink your poor choices. You just knew you wanted more, and so you asked for it. "Just give me more, please."

   So fucking obedient. If your parents could see you know, their failure of a villain daughter being all proper and learning to beg for what she wanted? Well, perhaps saying they'd be proud was a stretch, considering you were also the one getting fucked in the middle of a filthy alley. 

   What you hadn’t expected, however, was just how well your begging would work. 

   Because the next thrust of his shaft was not between your legs, but aimed to finally breach your needy cunt instead, easily filling you up in one go with how utterly soaked in both of your juices you already were. The girth of him had you already clenching with renewed vigor, his hand stopping his assault on your clit just to give you enough time to truly savor the new intoxicating sensation.

   And when your eyes found his again, so drunk on the waves of pleasure you were that you also failed to notice the lack of scarlet coloring the orbs boring into yours, now inescapable voids of dark desire and a type of intense fixation you thought hadn't been there moments ago. 

   (Or maybe it was always there, and you had been too busy with your own turmoil to notice the clues being left by your so-called enemy).

   "Want me to stuff you properly?" His guttural question hit you at the same time as his sharp movements found your tender spot with experienced ease, walls tightening around him while your entire body struggled to continue holding yourself upright, relying more and more on the capture weapon to keep you from toppling over. 

   The binds still hurt from how tightly they wrapped around you, bruises sure to be left on their wake, but by that point you weren't so sure anymore the sting was an entirely bad thing. If anything, it just made the pleasure all the sweeter by comparison.  

   "Want me to fill you with so much cum that you reek of hero cock for the rest of the week?" He laughed while he regurgitated some of your words from earlier, the hand pressing against your lower stomach caressing you with a distinct sense of ownership as he elicited another loud moan with a sharp movement of his hips. 

   Noticing you reacting not only to his actions but to his quips, you could practically hear the self congratulatory smirk as he spoke next.

   "Bet the other villains would love knowing how much of a cockhungry whore you turned into too, doll. Talk about fraternizing with the enemy."

   And he was right, in a way. Because what would your fellow villains think, seeing you being wrecked by one of the most infamous Pros in the business, lowering yourself to pleading and screaming as he rearranged your insides. 

   Would you get called a disloyal whore or just a plain traitor? Not only would your spotless reputation and the myth you had fought to build collapse, but from its ashes your eternal shame could be erected. 

   A shame that would tower over you, looming around you while the eyes of your peers followed you everywhere. You could even picture the jests veered your way, the looks of utter disgust and ridicule...

   Somehow, the idea of anyone finding out only made your screams grow louder, impossibly more fervent. 

   "Fucking… get on with it."

   However, his rhythm was rapidly interrupted after your jab, his cock pulling out almost entirely as your core convulsed with the sudden staggering emptiness it was left to grapple with. More whimpers, struggling against the set of eternally unforgiving ties encasing your body. 

   "But you're making me do all the work, little one" Another slap shook your entire frame as it landed heavily on your still pained cheeks. You were so sore, both from the previous set of hits and from the sheer exhaustion starting to set in, muscles tight and resentful from the awkward positions your body had been manhandled into. "If you really want to continue this, how about you start doing some of the heavy lifting, uh?" Just like before, his palm started massaging the tender spot he had just smacked, fingers digging into your supple flesh being as close to comforting as the Pro seemed capable of. "Show me just how good you can be."

   And you could've argued, truly, could've even attempted to hold onto the last vestiges of your pride…

   You could’ve done a lot of things, but the truth was that when his weapon relented its hold at last, retreating from the underside of your knees and giving in just a smidge for the first time since you had been captured, you didn't waste any seconds before you were chasing after your high with renewed vigor.

   Greedily sinking into him with an obscene sigh, you audibly marveled at the curve of his member being deliciously imprinted in your insides. While you copied the cadence the Hero had previously employed, his grip on your lower belly fluttered, almost like he couldn't decide whether to take control back or allow you to humiliate yourself further with your own zealousness. 

   It seemed like the later prospect won him over in the end though, because he remained almost impassively still as you did all the work needed to bring you both deliriously close to your peaks. 

   The sight must've been spectacular, watching you, renown villain V/N, so thoroughly broken and willing to heed his every command. Impaling yourself on his cock, moaning and continuing to beg him for something you were already taking for yourself. 

   If he died right then and there, he doubted Heaven wouldn't have as much appeal as the scene still unfolding before his eyes. (But again, considering his actions, Heaven wouldn't really be the right place for either of you.)

   You were just about to reach your second orgasm, toes curling inside your shoes, fists clenched and a face that spelt poetic extasis. Angling the way you took his cock, every single movement driving him painstakingly deeper, slamming against a spot that made you imagine the stars falling from the sky all around you, their light being the one bathing you instead of the malfunctioning street lamps. 

   So goddamn close…

   Only to have him pull out again, this time completely. You were clenching against nothing, all stimulation stolen from you, and the bitterness of a ruined orgasm promptly dragged curses and complaints out of you before you could even think to stop them. 

   Eyes searched his, urgently seeking an explanation for his withdrawal only to find his glare fixated instead on that same dirty pair of stockings that had started it all. 

   Eraserhead must have taken the garment out of his pocket sometime while he fucked you, unfolding it from its scrunched up state until the crotch was visibly presented for both of you to admire, dark sheer fabric still stained from a mix of your arousal and spit. 

   When the Pro looked at you again, a beautifully dark smile topped his attractive face. He looked painfully content, the way he studied your own mortified expression reminding you of an artist studying his masterwork. 

   "Only the truly obedient ones get their cunts filled." You noticed then how his other hand was jerking him off again, erection rubbing against the nylon undergarments in a most obscene depiction. Too bad you were too frustrated to appreciate any of it. "I don't think you've… hell, you haven't earned it yet, V/N."

    You didn't even notice you were tearing up from the annoyance until it was too late. And maybe that was what finally did it, seeing you actually crying at his refusal to breed you like the slut you both knew you were, writhing in exaggerated despair as you found yourself feeling jealous of a stupid pair of tights, because not long after your pathetic reaction the man was letting out a pained groan of his own and spilling himself all over the damned garment. 

   But instead of rubbing your wailing in your face after he came down from his own delicious high, last few spurts of cum slowing down to a halt, you were surprised instead by the weapon that had been binding you for the longest time finally retreating.

   As expected, you unceremoniously collapsed to the floor, feet now unprepared for supporting your weight and your entire being wholly exhausted after enduring the roughest fuck you had ever experienced. It hurt all over, although you weren't sure whether your still present longing wasn't what pained you the most. 

   When you looked up to the Pro again, trying to find an answer to the new freedom you were experiencing, you were surprised by having the cum-dripped stockings thrown in your face. 

   And quite literally so, the still wet seed dribbling down your cheek and into your trembling lips, all before you collected enough wits to grab the offending item and pull it down with an expression of unadulterated disgust. 

   "Sorry, doll, but you were pouting so irresistibly," The Eraser user actually laughed, this time the sound coming with an untroubled merriment you did not think he was capable of.

   He actually looked worn out while he tucked himself back into his costume, accommodating the pieces of clothing until all hints from your ravenous affair disappeared. The bandages were wrapping themselves around his neck once more, looking more like an extravagant scarf than the most precise set of inmovilazing gear you had ever endured. 

   However, something about his attitude had you forgetting all about his newest slight, much too worried by a new cause of worry. 

   "Hold on..."

   Eraserhead looked down at you from his place after you raised your voice, urging you to continue as he finished getting himself presentable. The air of nonchalance around him was almost more intimidating than any of the actual threats or vulgar comments he had voiced prior. Almost.

   "Are you…" you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, voice still raspy and hoarse after what had just transpired. "Are you really letting me go?"

   The man just raised one of his eyebrows at that, eyes crinkling for the first time and looking strangely amused. 

   "Doll, I stopped exerting my quirk on you while I was still teasing you good and proper," he declared bluntly. When his orbs glimmered again, you now felt like an imbecile as you finally realized they had completely lost the reddish hue to them. "So you know what? I thought you deserved to get an out of jail free card for behaving yourself… even if you still need to work some more on your manners."

   To call your shocked expression dumbfounded would be a disservice. 

   When his now bottomless eyes bore into yours for one final time, all you could do was stare back in dazzled shock. Your quirk was back, the Pro himself had just confirmed it, and yet you were still nailed to the spot, still anticipating his next words without even thinking of attacking him in the meantime.

   One little tumble and you were already his brightest pupil yet. He was now so glad to have waited that long, it only made the outcome all the more fulfilling. 

   "You don’t need to be so surprised, Y/N, we'll be seeing each other soon,” He kneeled in front of you for an instant, both hands reaching out to hold up your face in a gesture more resembling a lover than… well, whatever the hell you two were. So entranced you were then, that the use of your real name barely even registered. “It’s been difficult to keep you away from trouble thus far,” his acknowledgment reverberated in the alley, its meaning something else lost to you as you couldn’t help but become entranced by the new peculiar softness he addressed you with, “but getting you like this now, seeing you break so easily… fuck, I’ll mold you right back up, doll, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

   And just then, for the first time you realized, the Hero’s lips were brushing against yours gently, uncharacteristically careful as he kissed you slowly. Even his hands were tender while they guided you, treating you as if you truly were a doll that could just be snapped with a mere wrong movement. As if he hadn’t just been treating you like a dirty hole for him to use and abuse just short instants ago. 

   But at least he did not seem to care about the mess that was your face at the moment, about the cum stains or the still damp trails of tears. And, for whatever reason, you found yourself returning the gesture in kind, melting into the oddly affectionate touch of a man you were still halfway sure you loathed. 

   Even after he left you, alone and a mess still toppled over on the floor with the shadow of humiliation cloaking your shoulders, your fingers couldn’t help but touch your lips with a bizarre mixture of bewilderment and horror.

   He told me I would see him soon, your mind supplied as you found yourself irreparably fixating your stare on the pair of now completely ruined tights you were still holding onto. The fact that you felt any type of excitement about the notion did not fail to mortify you. 

   God, even for villain standards you were fucked. 

But it was okay, because misery loved company and, with time at his disposal and the right amount of coaching, Shouta was sure he could teach you to properly crave his soon enough.

— — — 

And, 8k of foul smut later, if y’all read through that whole thing... drop by my ask to recieve your congratulatory gold stars! ⭐ (jk but I do appreciate hearing y’alls thoughts, it’s what keeps me halfway productive 🖤)

Last but not least, very special thanks to my best pals @reinawritesbnha​, @snappysnapo​ and @drxwsyni​ (who actually proof read this and helped me out immensely with her Big Brain Feedback. A TALENTED ANGEL). 

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Trying Something New - Fred Weasley

Title: Trying Something New Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Warning: NSFW!! Dom/sub, daddy kink, male receiving oral, dirty talk, teasing, pet names, sex toys, overstimulation, unprotected sex, after care Summary: Fred and the reader decide it’s time to spice things up in the bedroom A/N: this is for @le-weasley-simp​ who wanted some kink exploration and an anon who wanted some dom!Fred with daddy kink!! This is mostly just smut but if you look hard enough there’s some plot I guess haha. Feedback is always welcome!!

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“What do you think of this one?” Y/N asks, holding up another bra for Fred to examine. It’s a deep purple color with a little lace detailing on the cups. When all Fred does is shrug Y/N sighs and puts the bra down. “What’s wrong with you? We’re surrounded by lingerie and you’re acting like we’re at the dentist’s office.”

“I dunno, I thought shopping for lingerie would be more exciting, and sexy,” Fred sighs, looking around the store. “But in reality it’s pretty boring.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Well if you would pick out some stuff you like I could try it on for you, Freddie. But if you’d rather just go and do something else I can meet back up with you later.”

“Try it on for me?” Fred asks, perking up. “Why didn’t you start with that, love? Wait here, I’ll be back.”

Y/N shakes her head fondly with a chuckle as she watches Fred move around the store. He starts to eagerly grab a few things off of the shelves, clearly more interested in their shopping trip than he had been before. This shopping trip is the first part in their journey to get a bit more adventurous in the bedroom. Their sex life is far from vanilla, but both Fred and Y/N expressed interest in taking their activities to the next level. So they decided they’d spend the day out in muggle London to do some shopping for some supplies that will hopefully turn things up a notch in the bedroom.

When Fred comes back to where Y/N is standing a few minutes later, he has quite a few things in his hands and there’s a cheeky grin on his face. He shoves them all into her arms before ushering Y/N towards the dressing room. “Go, go, go. I’ll wait out here.” Fred takes a seat on the chair outside the dressing room, giving her a wink. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“Okay, okay. Keep it in your pants, Freddie,” Y/N teases before closing the curtain behind herself. She hangs up the few things Fred had shoved into her arms, deciding to try on some of the bras first. She gets her top half undressed before grabbing the first thing her hand lands on. She slips it on, before turning to look at herself in the mirror.

It’s a deep red color that compliments her skin tone perfectly, and it’s completely made of lace. It plunges low, so her cleavage is on full display, and her nipples are visible through the sheer fabric. She adjusts it so it fits just right before turning around and opening the curtain up. “Thoughts?”

Fred’s eyes widen and he bites his lip to keep from moaning. He lets his eyes rake over Y/N’s body, focusing on the way the fabric clings to the curve of her breasts. “Oh I have many thoughts and none of them are appropriate enough to be said out loud right now.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she shuts the curtain. She takes the bra off carefully and sets it aside for her to buy. She tries the next few bras on, showing each one to Fred, but they don’t quite elicit the same reaction as the first one. Fred had picked out two fuller pieces as well, and Y/N turns to those next.

The first one is sheer with some lace detailing throughout, with high cut leg holes that leave most of her sides bare. It’s high cut up the back as well, and if Y/N didn’t still have her panties on practically her whole ass would be hanging out. Y/N sticks just her head out of the curtain, so she can beckon Fred closer. “Come here, I don’t wanna expose my entire ass to the store.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Fred gets up and stands in front of the curtain, blocking the rest of the store from view. “Come on then, let’s have a look.”

“It’ll look a bit weird since I still have my underwear one, but I’m sure you can use your imagination to picture what it’ll look like when I’m naked.” Y/N opens the curtain fully then for Fred to see what she’s wearing, suddenly feeling embarrassed under his intense gaze.

“Jesus,” Fred groans, reaching out to touch Y/N’s thighs. He lets his eyes slowly roam over her body, memorizing every inch of skin. “If you don’t buy that I will never, ever, ever forgive you, Y/N. I’m serious. If we were allowed to use magic around muggles I’d be casting a few spells and taking you right here in this dressing room.”

“Fred,” Y/N scolds, before pulling him into a brief kiss. “Okay go sit back down, lover boy. I’ll try the last one on and then we can head to the next store.” Y/N shuts the curtain again and gets undressed, placing the black piece with the red bra she tried on earlier. She slips into the white piece quickly, taking a few moments to admire herself in the mirror. This one is less revealing, yet somehow feels sexier to her. The material is lace, but not only sheer in the areas that sprawl over her stomach and the leg holes are only cut a smidge higher than a normal pair of underwear, leaving much of her sides and ass covered. But the neckline is a plunging halter top, which leaves much of her breasts exposed.

Y/N opens the curtain, giving a little twirl for Fred. “You like?” she asks.

Fred nods wildly. “Very much. You look so sexy in white, Y/N. So innocent, yet so dirty at the same time. You’re driving me wild, baby.”

“No need to lay it on so thick, Freddie. I already agreed to sleep with you,” she teases. “Now go wait outside. I don’t want you to see what I buy so it’ll be a surprise.”

Fred gets up and comes to stand in the doorway of the dressing room, pressing a brief kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Such a tease, Y/N.” Fred pulls his wallet out of his pocket and places it into her hand. “Whatever you want is on me, baby. Okay? I’m spoiling you today.” Back when Y/N and Fred first got together during their Hogwarts years he used to dream about the day he’d have enough money to shower Y/N in presents and treat her like the Queen she is. Now that those days are finally here he takes every opportunity to spoil her, whether she likes it or not.

“Freddie,” Y/N responds before kissing him again. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to.” Fred winks at her. “And this way I don’t feel as bad when I inevitably destroy something ripping it off of your hot body.”

Y/N closes the curtain on Fred then, shaking her head as she listens to him laugh as he walks away. She gets redressed quickly, holding the three things she plans on purchasing in her hand. Y/N walks towards the till slowly, grabbing a few pairs of underwear on her way, including a red lace thong that will go perfectly with the bra Fred had picked out. Once her purchase has been made Y/N heads out of the store and meets back up with Fred.

“All set?” he asks, wrapping an arm around her waist. When Y/N nods he grins. “Perfect. To the sex shop we go!”

-

“Who knew there are so many kinds of dildos?” Fred muses as he stares at a wall covered top to bottom in different dildos. “I mean so many different colors, and shapes, and sizes. It’s truly remarkable,” he comments, turning to look at Y/N. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah sure, Freddie,” Y/N giggles. The basket in her hand is already quite full of a few things, but Fred insisted that a trip to the sex shop wouldn’t be complete without getting a new dildo. Y/N is quite familiar with a variety of different sex toys, many of them having been gifts from Fred, but those are tucked away in her bedside drawer for her to use on her own when Fred isn’t around. This is the first time they’re picking out toys to use together, and Y/N would be lying if she said it wasn’t turning her on.

Fred wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her close to his side. “Any one in particular catch your eye, love?” He leans over to whisper in her ear. “It’s your pussy it’ll be buried in after all.”

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine right to her core and she lets her eyes roam over the wall. There truly is a wide variety of dildos, and some even scare her a little bit. She turns to Fred and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You know what I like, Freddie. You pick one out, surprise me.” Y/N hands him the basket and gives Fred a stern look. “Don’t make me regret that decision, Fred.”

“Have I ever given you a sex toy you didn’t like?” he asks. “You’re in good hands baby. I promise.” Fred waits until Y/N has left the store before he grabs the dildo of his choice, making sure to grab a few extra things on his way to the checkout counter.

-

Y/N examines herself in the mirror, wiping her sweaty palm off on her bare thigh. She’s standing in her and Fred’s bathroom wearing nothing but the lacy red bra and thong she’d purchased earlier that day. Even though Fred has seen her in far less clothing, she can feel nervous butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Something about exploring new things with Fred has her feeling like a virgin all over again, nervous and unsure what to expect. Y/N had been mostly hands off when deciding what new things to explore, leaving the decisions to Fred. She trusts Fred with her life, but the uncertainty of where the evening is going to take them is making her a weird combination of excited and turned on.

“I’m ready when you are, baby,” Fred calls from the other side of the door.

Y/N takes a deep breath, before she opens the bathroom door and steps into their bedroom. Fred is sitting on the end of their bed in just his boxers, leaning back on his hands. She can tell that he’s already hard, and arousal starts to blossom in her stomach.

“Baby, you look ravishing,” Fred comments, letting his eyes take in every inch of her body. The red looks amazing on her, and the skimpy fabric leaves much of her skin bare, just how Fred likes it. Y/N’s hands move to cover herself up, and Fred drags his gaze away from her bare thighs so he can make eye contact with her. “Come on, Y/N. Be a good girl, let me see you.”

Y/N blushes and clasps her hands behind her back, so Fred can see all of her. His voice is deep and firm, and it puts her at ease. Fred dominating her is familiar, and it quiets the butterflies in her stomach. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Good girl,” Fred praises. “Now turn around for me, I want to see all of you.” Fred bites his lip as Y/N turns around, his eyes immediately drawn to her ass. “So pretty, baby. Do you like getting all dressed up for me?”

“Yes sir.” Y/N’s skin is burning from Fred’s intense gaze and she can feel the blush that’s creeping down her neck to her chest.

“Turn around,” Fred demands, smirking when Y/N instantly faces him again. “Listening so good tonight, baby. I might not even have to get that brand new paddle we bought earlier.”

Y/N shivers at the thought of Fred using a paddle to spank her. She’s no stranger to the feeling of Fred’s hand swatting her on the ass, but it’s usually purely for pleasure purposes, never to punish. And the thought of Fred taking her across his lap and spanking her until she cries makes her core throb.

Fred starts to palm himself through his boxers, trying to decide what to do next. “Get on your knees, kitten.”

The nickname is new, and it makes Y/N’s core throb as she drops down to her knees. “Yes, Daddy.” Y/N’s eyes widen, and she looks up at Fred. It’s always sir or master when he dominates her, never Daddy. They’ve never talked about it before and Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t eager to say it again.

“What did you call me?” Fred asks, wanting to make sure he heard her right. He tries to keep his tone even so that Y/N doesn’t think he’s angry with her.

“Daddy.”

Fred’s cock twitches at the name and he has to bite his tongue to stifle a groan. “Get over here, kitten and suck Daddy’s cock.”

“Yes Daddy,” Y/N answers as she crawls over to Fred. She immediately settles in between his spread thighs and pulls his boxers down to his ankles, freeing his cock. One of her hands wraps around the base as she takes the head into her mouth, sucking on it gently. Fred’s moans encourage her to keep going, and Y/N starts to slowly move her head down, taking more of Fred into her mouth and down her throat.

Fred groans as Y/N’s lips squeeze around his cock, and he gathers her hair up into a ponytail. It’s a warning, that if she isn’t a good girl for him he’ll have to fuck her throat so hard she can’t speak tomorrow, and as she starts to slowly pull her head back Fred gives her hair a light tug. “Don’t be naughty, kitten. You know how Daddy likes to have his cock sucked.”

Y/N moans around Fred and starts to bob her head faster. Her hand twists at the part of his cock she can’t fit into her mouth, and she lets her tongue rub at the vein on the underside of his cock. Y/N’s hand starts to stroke him as she pulls off to allow her mouth to pay extra attention to the head. She looks up at Fred under her eyelashes as her tongue starts to lick and flick at just the tip, gathering up the precum that has started to bubble out.

“That’s it,” Fred moans. “Being such a good girl, kitten. That pretty little mouth of yours was made for Daddy’s cock wasn’t it?” Y/N moans as she swallows him down again, causing Fred’s hips to twitch, forcing himself a little deeper down her throat. “Where should Daddy shoot his first load, kitten? All over your pretty tits? Or do you wanna swallow it, like the little cum slut you are.”

Fred’s dirty talk is sending shocks of pleasure right to her core, and Y/N has to clench her free hand to resist the urge to start touching herself. She isn’t allowed to touch without Fred’s permission, and if she does he’ll spend the rest of the evening edging her but never allowing her to finish. After a few more bobs of her head Y/N pulls off, stroking Fred slowly, changing the pressure of her grip as she does. “Want it in my mouth, Daddy. Please.” Y/N presses a few kisses to the tip of Fred’s cock, before taking him back down her throat.

“Of course, kitten. How could Daddy say no when you ask so nicely?” Under normal circumstances Fred would keep Y/N on her knees for him for the better part of an hour, not only for his pleasure, but hers’ as well. The longer Fred waits to finally touch Y/N the more intense her orgasms are, and their sex is much more enjoyable for Fred when Y/N is screaming his name. Fred starts to thrust his hips gently to meet Y/N’s movements and his grip on her hair tightens when she moans around him again.

Y/N takes a deep breath and relaxes her throat, before moving her head until her nose touches the skin just above Fred’s cock. The tip of his cock hits the back of her throat and she gags around him. A few tears leak from her eyes and saliva starts to drip down her chin, but she stays there for a few moments before pulling back to wrap her tongue around the head and suck. She tilts her head back slightly so Fred can look at the mess she’s becoming, before she takes him all the way back down again.

Fred moans as Y/N gags again, the image of his cock between her red, swollen lips with drool dripping down her chin and tears leaking down her face still fresh in his mind. “Fucking hell, kitten. You sound so pretty choking on my cock. You like the way it fills up your mouth, don’t you?” Y/N hums as her lips reach the tip of his cock and Fred lets out a deep groan. “Daddy’s getting close, kitten. Gonna shoot into your pretty mouth so you can swallow it down just like you asked. Being such a good girl for me already. I bet your pussy is already dripping just from having my cock in your mouth. You’re such a little cock slut, aren’t you kitten? You always need Daddy’s cock filling you up, isn’t that right? Nothing makes you cum as hard as Daddy’s cock does, right kitten?”

Y/N moans as she continues to take Fred’s cock all the way down her throat, letting herself gag for a moment before pulling back and repeating the process. She can feel Fred twitching against her tongue, a telltale sign that he’s on the verge of climaxing.  Y/N focuses on the feel of his cock in her mouth to keep her mind away from her pussy and the way it pulsates. Fred has somehow managed to talk dirtier than normal, and each word that comes out of his mouth goes right to her core.

“Oh fuck, kitten. Such a good little cock slut. Love the way you gag on my cock.” Fred pulls Y/N off of him slightly, and shallowly thrusts his hips a few times as he feels himself about to cum. “Here it comes, kitten such a good girl. Making Daddy cum from just your mouth.” Fred lets out a long groan as he reaches his climax, his hips twitching as his cock releases thick ropes of cum onto Y/N’s tongue and down her throat. He grabs Y/N’s jaw as he slowly pulls out to keep her mouth open. “Let me see your tongue, kitten. Daddy wants to see how pretty it looks with all of his cum on it.”

Y/N looks up at Fred and sticks her tongue out. Once Fred releases her jaw she swallows his release, before opening her mouth again, allowing Fred to see that it’s all gone. “Did I do good, Daddy?”

Fred nods, and uses his thumb to wipe away the drool on her chin. “So good, kitten.” Y/N shivers at his praise, and Fred cups her cheek. “Always my good girl, kitten. Such a good mouth, always sucking me so well. And you look so pretty with my cock between your lips, kitten. That mouth was made to suck Daddy’s cock, wasn’t it?”

Y/N nods, preening under Fred’s praise. “Yes, Daddy. Made just for you. I love sucking your cock, Daddy. Thank you for letting me suck you off and swallow your load.”

“You’re welcome, kitten.” Fred pats his thighs to give Y/N permission to sit on his lap, and he chuckles as she scrambles off of the floor to straddle his waist. This is the first time he’s touched her all night, and he lets his hands run down her back, over her bum to her thighs, before following the same trail back up. “Daddy’s gonna touch your pussy now, kitten. But you’re gonna be a good girl and not move. Right?”

Y/N places her hands on Fred’s shoulders and digs her fingers in as she nods. “Yes, Daddy. Always your good girl, promise.”

Fred moves Y/N’s thong to the side and lets two of his fingers massage her wet folds, just barely brushing her clit. “Wow, kitten. So fucking wet already just from having Daddy’s cock in your mouth.” Fred sinks one of his fingers into her heat, just letting it sit there. When Y/N remains still in his lap he smiles and starts to slowly fuck her with the digit. “Good girl, kitten. Daddy is so proud of you.”

“T-thank you, Daddy,” Y/N stutters as his finger curls inside her. Fred’s moving at a frustratingly slow pace, but with how turned on she is Y/N figures she could probably cum just from this one finger alone. “Can I have more, Daddy? Please?”

Fred pulls his hand away from her core, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s neck when she whines. “How about we get one of the new toys Daddy bought you, kitten? Would you like that?”

“Yes please, Daddy. Thank you Daddy. I love you.”

Fred pulls their mouths together in a slow kiss, his hands gripping her thighs as he stands up. He places Y/N down on the bed gently and pulls away. He chuckles when Y/N pouts at him, and he presses a few quick kisses to her lips. “I love you too, kitten. Now lay back on the bed for Daddy, okay?” Fred waits for her to get into position before he walks over to their dresser where a few of the toys he’d purchased earlier are sitting. He had hoped Y/N would be a bit naughty so he could try out the paddle, but he’ll have to save that for another time. He settles on the new pink vibrator Y/N had picked out. It’s not as long or as thick as Fred, but it’ll be a nice warm up for his cock.

“Here,” Fred says as he reapproaches the bed, handing the toy to Y/N. Instead of rejoining her on the bed, Fred grabs the chair from the corner of their room and placed it at the foot of the bed. It gives him the perfect view of Y/N and what she’s about to do for him.

Y/N swallows thickly as she examines the toy. Her pussy is throbbing with the need to be filled, so much so that it takes her a few seconds to notice that Fred hasn’t rejoined her on the bed. “Daddy,” she whines, propping herself up on an elbow to look at Fred. “You’re too far away.”

“Don’t worry, kitten. Daddy’s right here. He’ll join you in a bit.” Fred bites his lip, his cock twitching at how unbelievably sexy Y/N is. “Tonight is all about trying new things, right kitten?” When Y/N nods he continues. “Well tonight Daddy is giving you permission to touch yourself. I wanna watch you fuck yourself with that pretty pink vibrator, okay? And once you’ve come all over it, Daddy will come back and touch you. Sound good, kitten?”

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you Daddy.” Y/N keeps herself propped up on her elbow so Fred can watch as she takes the vibrator into her mouth, sucking on it just like she’d sucked on Fred earlier. Once it’s wet she pulls it out of her mouth with a pop and turns it on to its lowest setting. She trails it down her chest to her breast, moaning as the vibration stimulates her nipple. If she were alone Y/N wouldn’t bother with the theatrics, she’d just go right for fucking herself on the toy. But she wants to put on a show for Fred.

“Oh Daddy,” she moans as she moves the vibrator to the other nipple. She makes direct eye contact with Fred as she starts to trail the vibrator down her stomach towards her core. She takes a moment to push the fabric of her thong aside, before she presses the tip of the vibrator against her clit. It sends shockwaves of pleasure through her body and her hips jut up as she whines.

“Feel good?” Fred asks, his eyes trained on Y/N’s dripping core. He can already feel himself getting hard again, and he starts to slowly stroke himself with a loose fist.

“So good, Daddy,” Y/N moans, turning up the vibrator up one notch. She presses it against her clit harder, her head tossing back as she groans.

“Does it feel better than Daddy’s fingers?” When Y/N shakes her head, he chuckles. “What about his mouth?”

“No, Daddy,” Y/N pants as she starts to tease her entrance with the tip of the toy. “Nothing feels better than your mouth.” Y/N starts to slowly push the toy into her, her walls clenching around it and sucking the toy in further. “Oh fuck,” Y/N moans, pushing the toy in as far as it can go.

Fred squeezes his cock, biting his lip to contain the noises he wants to make. Y/N looks ethereal as she fucks herself with the toy and Fred doesn’t want to distract her. “How does it feel, kitten? Talk to Daddy as you fuck yourself.”

“F-feels good.” Y/N increases the speed of the vibration as she starts to fuck herself with the toy slowly. The pace is agonizing, but the tip of the vibrator brushes her g-spot with every movement and she already can feel her orgasm building. “Not as good as your cock, Daddy. But so good.”

“Nothing is as good as my cock, isn’t that right, kitten? No toy or man will ever be able to make you feel as good as my cock does. That pussy belongs to me and no one else. Right, kitten?” Fred has to stop stroking himself to avoid orgasming again. The next time he cums it’ll be inside Y/N, and he still has a few plans for her before that’s going to happen.

Y/N’s toes curl as she increases the pace of her movements and she can feel her walls spasming around the toy. “Yes, Daddy. My pussy is yours. All yours,” she babbles. “Gonna come soon, Daddy. Can I come? Please. I’ve been such a good girl.”

“Gonna come already, kitten? You’ve barely even touched yourself,” Fred teases. “Do you like showing off for Daddy that much?”

Y/N moans and her back arches as her orgasm nears and she stats to slam the toy into herself harder. “Love it so much, Daddy. Love being your good girl. Always wanna be good for you.”

“You are such a good girl, kitten. You look so good fucking yourself with that toy. You’ve already got Daddy hard again.” Fred stands up, his eyes trained on Y/N’s face. “Go on then, kitten. Come for Daddy.”

“Oh, oh, Daddy,” Y/N moans as she finally reaches her climax. Her hips thrust down on the toy as pleasure washed over her and her thighs tremble from how intense her orgasm is. As she comes down from her orgasm the vibration of the toy is too much, but before she can pull it out Fred is sitting next to her on the bed and grabbing the end of the toy.

“We’re not quite done here, kitten.” Fred increases the speed of the vibrator and starts to slowly fuck Y/N with his, watching as her body writhes on the bed.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” Y/N babbles as Fred starts to fuck her with the toy faster. Her body feels like it’s on fire, and she can already feel her next orgasm building. Tears have started to leak out of her eyes, and she collapses against the bed. “Too much Daddy, please.”

Fred slows down the pace of his movements for a moment. “Do you need Daddy to stop, kitten? It’s okay if you do, you just need to say the word and Daddy will stop.”

Y/N shakes her head. “Don’t stop Daddy, please. Wanna come again. Feels so good Daddy.”

Fred starts moving at the same pace as before, leaning down to press a few kisses to Y/N’s forehead. “Such a good girl, kitten. Come for Daddy on the toy one more time and then he’ll give you his cock, okay?” Fred grabs one of Y/N’s hands in his and intertwines their fingers, before pressing them down against the bed above her head. “Good girl, kitten. Come for Daddy.”

Y/N’s back arches off of the bed as she comes, an incoherent mess of moans and whines falling from her mouth as pleasure rockets through her body. Her whole body is trembling, and it feels like she can’t breathe as Fred turns down the vibration on the toy and continues to slowly fuck her as her orgasm rolls over her.

Fred watches Y/N’s chest heave with deep breaths as she comes down from her orgasm, and he slowly pulls the vibrator out of her. He leans down to kiss her forehead gently, squeezing their intertwined hands. “You did wonderful, kitten. So, so good. I love you so much.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you. I love you.” Y/N whines and tilts her chin up, silently asking Fred for a kiss.

Fred complies immediately and kisses her slowly for a few moments. He presses a few quick kisses to her mouth before pulling away. “Do you have one more in you, kitten? Are you ready for Daddy to fuck you?”

Y/N nods, letting Fred help her sit up. “Yes, Daddy. Need you so bad.”

Fred grabs the bottom of Y/N’s bra and pulls it over her head, kissing her again as his hands starts to massage her breasts. He lays her back down as he settles in between her legs, his hands running down her torso towards her core. “Can’t wait to bury my cock in your pussy, kitten. You always feel so good wrapped around me.” He slowly pulls her thong down, admiring her now naked body.

“Fuck me Daddy,” Y/N begs. “Want you to pound my pussy.”

Fred practically growls as he grips Y/N’s thighs and he pulls her down the bed closer to him. He braces himself on one hand near her shoulder, while the other wraps around the base of his cock and positions himself at her entrance. “Ready, kitten?”

“Yes, Daddy, please.”

Fred slams his hips forward, pushing all of himself into Y/N’s dripping heat. He throws one of her legs over his shoulder and grips her hip before he starts to snap his hips into her hard and fast. “Fuck, kitten. Still so fucking tight for Daddy. How does my cock feel? Is it stretching you out?”

“Daddy,” Y/N moans, starting to move her hips to meet Fred’s thrusts. She clenches around him tightly, wanting to bring him to his orgasm. She’s still extremely sensitive from her first two climaxes, and from the way Fred’s cock is relentlessly rubbing against her g-spot she knows it won’t be long before she comes again. “Your cock feels so good. Feel so full, Daddy.”

“God, kitten. Love your cunt so much. Always feel so fucking good.” Fred starts to rub harsh circles on Y/N’s clit, hoping to bring her to her third orgasm. Her walls are like a vice grip around his cock, and Fred knows we won’t last much longer. “Who does this pussy belong to kitten? Is it yours?”

“No,” Y/N pants, shaking her head. She lets out a long whine as Fred lands a particularly hard thrust and she momentarily loses the ability to speak from the pleasure flowing through her veins. “Belongs to you, Daddy. All yours.”

“That’s right, kitten. All mine.” Fred’s rhythm starts to falter as his orgasm approaches, and he starts to apply more pressure to Y/N’s clit. “Come on, kitten. Come for Daddy. Give him one more and I’ll fill you up with my seed.”

Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head and her back arches as she comes again, a low moan ripping from her throat. She relaxes against the bed as she comes down, her hands tangling in Fred’s hair and tugging on it harshly. “Please Daddy. Come inside of me, want you to fill me up.”

Fred buries himself completely in Y/N and his hips still as he comes, his cock twitching as it paints her insides with his release. He rolls his hips slowly before stopping his movements all together. He gently places Y/N’s leg back on the bed, and he leans down to kiss her softly. Fred slowly pulls out of Y/N and lays down next to her on the bed, pulling her into his chest.

“Love you Freddie,” Y/N  mumbles as she presses her face into his neck. She wraps her arms around his torso and presses a few kisses to his sweaty skin. “Love you so much.”

Fred chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too, Y/N.” He just holds her for a moment, pressing her to his chest tightly. He looks down at her, noticing the slightly dazed expression on her face. “I’m gonna go run you a bath, okay? Stay right here, baby.” Fred kisses her gently before he climbs out of bed and heads into their bathroom.

Once the bath is warm and filled with bubbles, Fred goes back into the bedroom and slowly picks Y/N up bridal style. He takes her into the bathroom and places her in the bathtub carefully before getting in behind her.

Y/N relaxes back against Fred’s chest, letting the warm water flow over her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby. Anything for you.” Fred rubs his hands up and down Y/N’s arms in the water to soothe her and presses a few kisses to the top of her head. “So, Daddy, huh?” he teases after a few minutes of silence.

Y/N laughs and tilts her head back so she can look up at Fred. “You’re in no place to talk, kitten,” she fires back.

Fred smiles and leans down to capture Y/N’s lips in a sweet kiss. The angle is awkward, but neither of them seem to care. “Hey, I’m not complaining it was wicked hot. What about you, did you enjoy trying something new?”

Y/N hums and nods, kissing Fred again. “Let’s just say I think we should head back to that sex shop again sometime soon.”

“Does tomorrow work for you?”