#it's on the inside of my bicep so it's not quite as visible when I just have my arms by my side

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

aahh i didn't even mean to, but it seems fitting to post a pic of my new tattoo on the car's first birthday ♥️ this band means so much to me and has done for well over a decade, and this album has truly rewired my soul, so it felt right to get this one done while i was in dublin for the last few shows of the tour for this album <3 (plus i really like the kind of meta-ness of getting 'body paint' tattooed tbh)

[katsukistofu]

hihi !! thinking about a hurt/comfort fic with shinsou where reader feels like she’s boring/annoying to him

good parts

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ h. shinsou x fem reader. 1.5k words — hurt/comfort. fluff. slightly suggestive. ⭑ no matter how dark your brain gets, hitoshi is determined to help you see yourself in the same light that he does.

Hitoshi visibly softens the moment he opens his door at the sight of you standing there in the dimly lit hallway.

Dark violet pools swimming with worry drift from the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek, like how he’s noticed you usually do when you’re anxious, to the hem of your pajamas balled up in your fists.

“What's up, love?” Hitoshi says in his softest voice, faltering when you finally meet his eyes with your reddened ones. His heart drops. Have you been crying?

At your uncharacteristically hesitant mumble of “Can I come in?” is when he feels said heart nearly split into two.

“Of course.” A concerned frown tugs at his lips. Something’s definitely wrong. You usually never bothered to ask twice, not that he minded of course, before barreling into his arms the second he turned the knob so many times before. “You can always come into my dorm.”

“I know, I just…” Your sweet voice that he’s missed all day trails off guiltily, and you take a deep breath as you fiddle with the edge of your pajamas.

“Actually, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I think I’ll just go back to my room.”

“What, who said that? You never bother me.” Hitoshi’s gentle yet firm grasp on your sleeve stops you from turning to leave, and you huff at his stubborn attempt to make you stay.

“Toshi, let go.”

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to amputate my arm first, and not that you couldn’t but I don’t think you don’t have the tools for that at the moment, pretty girl.” The edge of his lips tilt upward in a wry smile as he playfully tugs you towards him. “You’re not escaping me that easily.”

You huff and turn away, looking anywhere but into his warm, patient eyes. It’s a trap, you know it, once you do you’ll be spilling your guts out in no time, and the sickening aftertaste of burning shame is just something you can’t stomach right now.

Plus he’s wearing that gray hoodie he knows is your favorite, which just makes everything worse because he looks ten times more handsome than usual.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Hitoshi coaxes. “Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

A beat of silence. 

Your lips press into a firm, thin line, and you finally surrender. 

“Yeah. I know.” You sigh, and he rubs your shoulder encouragingly.

“Go ahead then, I’m listening.”

“Okay, uh…” You mumble slowly, suddenly feeling very silly. “Do you think I’m annoying or that you’ll ever get bored of me, Toshi?” 

“Never.” He answers without skipping a beat. “To both. You never annoy me, and you’re anything but boring.”

“Really?” Your voice breaks a little and his heart clenches in his chest at the way you sound so doubtful of his words. Hitoshi reaches out to tenderly brush his knuckles against your cheek.

“Really.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well when I wake up everyday, my first thought is that I look forward to seeing you.”

Your eyes widen, when it really shouldn’t be a surprise at all. “You do?”

“Mhm, I do.” Hitoshi moves to sit down on the edge of his bed. You gasp as he smoothly pulls you into his lap, quite literally sweeping you off your feet.  “And you know how else I know I’ll never, ever get bored of you?”

"What?" You shyly adjust your legs to straddle him more comfortably. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck in response, unwavering, intense eyes staring into yours. He’s so close that his lashes brush against your cheek when he blinks, and his warm breath fans across your lips teasingly.

“Toshi,” you whine. “You’re making me feel flustered.”

“I know it makes you feel flustered.” Hitoshi grins slyly. “That's why I love doing it.”

You gently bat his bicep. “Stop distracting me and answer my question!” 

“Yes ma’am.” Hitoshi chuckles as you retort by cutely puffing your cheeks and laying your head down on his shoulder. His arms are snug against your waist and he squeezes you in his lap. You always feel so nice, sitting so prettily on him. 

“I know I’ll never get bored of you because when someone asks what the best part of my day was, I always mention you in some way. Could be a cute doodle you made on a note you left me, you spending five solid minutes trying to push a door that says pull at a restaurant, or seeing you get excited over a new season of your favorite show coming out, anything as long as it's you.”

His expression is warm as he watches your head perk up at that, which quickly turns into a scowl when you realize exactly what he’s referring to. “The sign on that pull door was really faded, you couldn’t see it either!”

“That’s why I made you my guinea pig so I could come in and heroically save the day for you.”

“Heroic my ass,” you mutter into his hoodie and he laughs, then presses a soft kiss to your neck in response and you shiver. 

“And you have no idea just how much I love listening to you talk about your day.”

“...Even on the days I don’t do anything special?”

“Especially on those days.” He nuzzles his face into your neck and you giggle. “Love hearing you talk about mundane shit. Love when you send me a picture of what you’re having for breakfast, or when you tell me about some weirdly shaped cloud you saw outside during training.”

He pauses thoughtfully, and continues, “Hell, you could probably read me your grocery list and I'd still be hooked on every word. I love your little quirks, even the ones you think are weird. Your whole personality. Your cute voice.”

Hitoshi squeezes your hip. “So keep telling me all about it, okay? I wanna hear it.”

You let out a sweet little contented noise of agreement and your boyfriend grins. 

“So I think it’s safe to say that the chances of me finding you boring or annoying are real slim.” Hitoshi smirks, tickling your thighs that are still wrapped around his waist, and you squirm out of his hold and escape further into his bed while giggling. 

“Real slim meaning zero times infinity.”

“Isn’t that just zero, though?” You let out a soft sigh, completely out of breath as you flop onto his pillow.

“Shh, let me have my moment. Everything times infinity makes it more special.” Hitoshi’s arms come up from behind to hug you against him. “Like my love for you.”

“Ew.” You wrinkle your nose. “You’re so corny.”

“I know. Took you long enough to realize I’m obsessed with you.” He rolls his eyes, bending his head down to brush his lips against the nape of your neck. “Everyone in class already calls me a simp, you don’t need to rub it in.”

You flip around to face him, snuggling the side of your face into his pillow that has the faint, comforting scent of the laundry detergent he likes to use. “Good thing I’m also a simp.”

Hitoshi softly gasps in mock surprise. “Really? Oh my god,” his eyes flicker around the room as if he’s looking for the mysterious person who won your affections. “Who’s the lucky person?”

You laugh and the side of lips quirk up in that fond way that only happens when he’s with you. “You, you silly goose!”

“Me?” He sweetly brushes his nose against yours. “Wow. Feels like I’ve won the lottery.”

A warm feeling spreads across your chest, like honey being stirred into a hot cup of tea and Hitoshi’s eyes are half-lidded as he whispers in a low tone that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter to life.

“Come here, love. Give me a goodnight kiss.”

You lean in to kiss his deliciously soft lips, and you can feel him grin against your mouth at your eagerness. He kisses you back twice as gently, agonizingly so, while his hand trails to cup the dip of your waist and you feel dizzy at his adoring touch. Your heart is pounding way, way too fast for this late at night.

He sneaks another tender kiss onto your neck, then on your collarbone, and Hitoshi laughs as you shyly smush your flustered face into his pillow.

“One more thing.”

You peek over to glance at him, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel warm and tingly all over and your burning face is begging for you to return it to the cool depths of his pillow.

“Promise you’ll always tell me when you feel like this. No more keeping it in.”

Your eyes soften at his stern expression. “Okay, I promise.”

“Pinkie promise.” He says sagely, lifting his finger, and a laugh bubbles up in your throat at his serious tone when you raise your own, his larger pinkie overlapping yours. 

“I pinkie promise.”

“Good girl.” Hitoshi smirks, which is short-lived when his eyes widen in panic and it’s too late by the time he reaches to catch you as you proceed to tumble off the bed.

[empresskylo]

Hii:) i Hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if you could write some headcannons for König (some being nfsw if you’re comfortable with that).:))

some of these headcanons specifically mention reader being afab fyi

♡ he stares… a lot. it’s how you first realized he was interested in you. you’d feel his gaze on you constantly, following you around the room. you were a bit frustrated he wouldn’t come up and say anything though. so you had to make the first move. “can i help you könig?” “hm?” “you’ve been eye fucking me all night. is there something on your mind?” my god he would turn bright red.

♡ König takes awhile to show his face fully to you, ashamed of his scars.

♡ You place soft kissed all over his face, making his eyes flutter. He instantly wishes he had let you see under his mask a long time ago.

♡ “You like this?” he asked you, gesturing to his face. You shook your head making König’s brows lower for a split second. “No. I love it,” you said before stroking his jaw, feeling his stubble on your finger pads. Your hand finding it’s way to the back of his head, your fingers running through his hair, giving him a scratch. König moans in his throat from the pleasure of being touched so delicately.

♡ He’s not the best with words, so he shows his affection through touch. He always seems to be reaching out to you, wanting you intertwine your fingers, rest a hand on your knee, play with strands of your hair, or rest his palm on your lower back. he likes to wrap his arms around you, having to hunch over quite a bit to do so.

♡ He also likes to pick you up often, and he does so with ease. He’ll hold you up so you’re in-line with him, letting you peal his mask up, and kissing you. Then he plops you back down and pats your head, making you look up at him lovingly.

♡ He’s the one to tell you he loves you first. It’s sudden and out of the blue. Likely after a long time of not saying anything, just sitting in comfortable silence. Then suddenly, “I love you.” You don’t even comprehend it right away. By the time you look up at him, he’s gone.

♡ It takes time for you to get him to feel comfortable opening up, but you never pressure him. you slowly let him unravel before you, until he trusts you with his entire being. he definitely becomes a chatter box once he reaches that point. he loves talking and telling jokes and making you laugh.

♡ always dramatic. he likes to say your name loudly when he sees you, walking over to you with big strides. then lifts you up under your armpits while you stare at him, pretending to be annoyed.

♡ kisses the top of your head all the time. the top of your head is just at the perfect height for him to kiss.

♡ he blushes easily. and it’s pretty visible on his skin. just silly little remarks will make he flustered. you like making him act that way. calling him handsome or something even fluffier (like cupcake—you like the juxtaposition) has him going red.

♡ always makes you a coffee/tea when he gets himself one. he’ll just randomly hand you a hot tea and you look up at him a bit confused. he wanted to make himself one and if he makes one, he always makes another for you.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖

♡ kisses! he loves to give you kisses. he likes to kiss you from head to toe. and he likes when you place soft little smooches on his bare chest, his biceps, his neck, just anywhere really. it’s his favorite thing. he lives for you kisses. it makes him feel gentle and loved.

♡ he’s definitely a passionate lover and usually prefers to take his time and go slow with you. every once in awhile he just rips your clothes off and fucks you senseless, but usually he’s pretty gentle.

♡ he has a praise kink!! omg does he love when you praise him. he always tries to get you to keep talking during sex. he wants to hear all your babbling about how perfect he is, how good he feels inside you, how you’re his, and only his.

♡ and he likes to praise you in return. he always lets you know he’s enjoying himself. “fuck, that feels so good” “god, you’re so perfect” “you’re so tight” “you look so pretty like this” “keep doing that please” “look at me, i love seeing your pretty eyes” “i’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that”

♡ likes when you say you’re all his. usually comes when you finally mutter it. “tell me you’re mine” “god, köing, im yours. only yours.”

♡ he likes to hoist you up into his arms and fuck you against the wall. his arm gripped tightly around your waist. likes when you’re in his arms. he always wants your bodies flush against each other when you fuck. he wants to feel and hear everything.

♡ he definitely has a bit of a size kink. not too much, he’s actually kind of self conscious of how large he is. but he loves how much smaller you look when he towers over you. it’s why he loves picking you up, or bending over to kiss you. loves filling you up and hearing you whimper at how big he is. watching you gasp and claw at his back as he slowly bottoms out.

♡ this man is a devoted pussy eater. he loves going down on you. like LOVES it. he wants to hear all the noises you make for him. he enjoys making you come at least once before he fucks you, and it’s usually from him eating you out. “you taste fucking fantastic, love.” he can get off just from pleasing you. if you have to be quick, he lets you sit in his face, his cock in his hand, and he comes at the same time as you.

♡ he loves blowjobs. idk some guys just like them more than others and könig really likes them. just something about you on your knees, looking up at him has him swooning. legit withers beneath you as you suck the life from him. he likes to finish inside you though and he has to tell you to slow down so he can fuck you before he comes (but you don’t always let him), “w-wait, slow d-down, baby. i’m not g-gonna la—fuck—“

♡ though he’s shy and reserved, he is a vanilla dom who lives to please you. enjoys being the one in control. likes to have the power while you whine under him. definitely not into BDSM tho. he doesn’t like the idea of hurting his partner. but he doesn’t mind if you choke him a little (; and he’ll choke you if you ask, but he prefers just resting his hand on your throat and not actually putting any pressure on it.

[butchcarmy]

hi tuna! i was wondering if you could write something where carmy and reader are at a house party and either one of them is sitting on the roof smoking a joint and the other finds them up and there joins them? thank u in advance <3

YES. I really loved this prompt... so here ya go!

word count: 1.4k

content tags: smoking, substance use, first meetings

Parties like this aren't usually your scene. 

It's not like you can't appreciate it as a bystander—you suppose there's an appeal to music so loud you can't hear your own thoughts. There are certainly some days where you want to lose yourself in a crowd, drunk and careless. Today is not one of those days. 

You can't quite remember how your friend convinced you to come to their party. It'll be fun, they promised, a nice change of pace. It is a nice change of pace, sure. It's different from sitting by yourself at home, but…

Now you're just sitting by yourself at someone else's home, smoking a joint on their porch. 

This is more your pace. You're relaxed into one of your friend's water stained outdoor chairs, feet propped up on a low table. This is about all you can handle today—slow drags of weed and the sound of summer bugs in the trees. The sound of the party lays muffled behind you, sealed by the porch door. 

The noise of the music and dancing inside becomes sharp for a moment as you hear the door opening. You look over your shoulder to see someone you don't recognize hastily stepping out. He seems frazzled, brushing back the brown waves in his face back with his hand. He also seems very…handsome.

“Sorry, didn't know anyone was out here,” is the first thing he says. He has a nice voice, low and smooth. And nervous, you notice. 

“It's cool. It's not like I own the porch.” You shrug, taking another inhale from your sizzling joint. You had hoped that your comment would loosen the tension that'd tied knots all in his face, but it doesn't. He just laughs breathlessly back, short and shaky. “Not a party person?”

“Not really.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. That's when you notice the tattoos on his hands, emblazoned across the backs and his knuckles. Pretty. “You?”

“Sometimes. But not today.” That works—you see him visibly relax, even if just a little bit. “My friend invited me—it's their party—but I, I don't know. I guess I thought I'd be up for it, but…” You shrug. “And now I'm here.”

“I see. I get that. Uh—” He pauses, taking a slow hit from his white cigarette. “My coworkers, um, they invited me. I didn't wanna be an asshole, so I came, but…” He sighs. “Yeah. Now I'm here.”

“Tough.” You nod at the empty seat next to you. “Seat's open, if you want it.”

“Thanks.” He takes the seat next to you. This is when you really take notice of his muscles, especially his biceps and pecs wrapped tightly in that white t-shirt of his. A burst of attraction rushes through you.

“Uh—” You should keep talking. Distract yourself from his, uh, everything. “Do you smoke?” He gives you a funny look, eyes glancing towards his cigarette. “Fuck, I mean, do you smoke weed? Sorry, I'm a little high.”

“It's cool.” He's actually smiling now. It's a nice smile. “Yeah, not often, but I do.”

“Well.” You extend your hand towards him, offering him the joint. “You can have some of this if you want. Might help you relax. No pressure, of course.”

“...Actually, yeah. That'd be nice. Thank you.” He takes the joint from you with his other hand. Now he's got a cigarette in one and a joint in another. You both share an amused, knowing look. “You smoke cigs?”

“Sometimes. Here, let's trade.” He hands you his cigarette. “Not that there's anything wrong with dual-wielding. Take one hit off the joint, and then off the cig…”

“Dual-wielding,” he repeats, laughing under his breath. You chuckle, entertained by the thought and his reaction. You don't mean to watch him as he brings the joint up to his lips and pulls, but you do anyway. You're not sure if him smoking a cigarette or a joint looks more attractive. 

“I feel like we should know each other's names now.” You know it sounds a bit forward, but the high's making you brave. You introduce yourself to him. “And your name is?”

“I'm Carmen.” Of course even his name is pretty. “Most people just call me Carmy, though.”

“Carmy.” You can't help your smile. “That's cute. Do you have a preference?”

“Uh—” He looks good with a little bit of pink on his cheeks. “Carmy's fine.”

“Okay, then. Carmy it is.” 

You two develop a rhythm. You trade the joint and cigarette back and forth, inhaling puffs of weed and tobacco back to back. Intimate is not quite the right word to describe it, but you're not sure if there's a better word for it. You definitely feel something of a connection pulling the both of you closer together. You even think that somehow, the space between your seats is shrinking too.

“I used to smoke more weed back in college,” Carmy says. The joint's almost finished by now, and with it, you both become a lot more loose-lipped. He's staring into the distance like he's remembering something. “You ever green out?”

“Oh yeah, plenty of times.” You laugh to yourself, shaking your head. “Back when I first started smoking—well, I started with edibles.”

“As does everyone.”

“Yeah, and it's stupid. It's way too easy to go overboard with edibles.”

“Seriously. I've only ever had edibles once, and. Well.”

“Ah…It was bad, I take it?”

“Yep.” He laughs quietly, and the infectious sound of it makes you smile. “It was awful. I even threw up.”

“Oh no,” you gasp. “That's how you know it's bad. I've managed to stop myself from throwing up, but I've definitely felt like I was dying a couple times.”

“Oh, of course. As it goes.” You both chuckle. “I thought my tolerance was high enough. It wasn't that many milligrams, but I guess my body hated it.”

“It happens.” The cigarette dies out in your hands, burned right down to the filter. You snub it out on the arm of your chair. “I used to enjoy edibles, but ever since I greened out real bad one time, I just can't do them anymore. They just wreck my shit.”

“Maybe that's for the best.” He puts out the joint too. “Just stick to regular lung damage like the rest of us.”

“Lessons learned, I guess.” You grin. A comfortable pause settles. “...Carmy?”

“Yeah?”

“We've smoked it all. Everything.”

“I have some more cigarettes if you want one.”

“No, no…” You lean forward, propping your elbows on your knees. He instinctively mirrors you, sitting up in his chair. “It's all gone.”

“Oh. Well.” He tilts his head to the side. “What should we do now?”

“We could sit here and suffer. Or…” You rest your chin in the palms of your hands, cradling your face. “I could roll us another joint back at my place.”

“Oh.” Looks like it clicked. His blue eyes are widened with surprise.

“You don't have to,” you say quickly, “really. But I've been having a good time with you, and I…I like you. I think you're cute.” Ordinarily, you wouldn't be this forward, but you swear you feel something here. “Sorry if this is—too much.”

“No, not at all,” he replies, just as quick. “Don't apologize. Please. I just—” He fumbles, making a vague hand gesture. “This has been really, really nice. You're so easy to talk to, and I, I'm not used to that.” He smiles at you, shy and adorable. You're momentarily gripped with something akin to cuteness aggression, but you keep it under wraps. “I…I like you. A lot. I'd love to go to your place.”

“Yeah?” He nods. “Okay. Cool. Um…” You feel your insides jumbling all over each other. “Sorry, now I'm getting all flustered.”

“It's okay.” His smile blossoms further, turning into something radiant. “I like it. You're cute.” You make a small noise at that.

“Smooth talker.” You stand up from your seat, and he looks up at you momentarily before following suit. “I'm just down the block. Up for a walk?”

You don't bother telling your friend you're leaving. The two of you chat and laugh all the way to your place, your voices echoing down the quiet road. Turns out your friend was right after all—the party turned out to be very, very fun. 

[jobean12-blog]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 854

Summary: Joel comes home from a night out with the guys and has a surprise.

Author’s Note: I’ve been thinking about writing a little something for this for a while! Still in love with the idea of our grumpy biker soft for the sweet things like his girl and...well you can tell what else from my pics hehe! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 

Warnings: soft and sweet fluffs

Joel Miller Masterlist

The growl of his engine reverberates through the night air, at first distant and piercing the stillness before the power gradually diminishes as he slows down and approaches the house. The rhythmic purring begins to fade, replaced by the sound of the rubber tires rolling across the pavement.

Finally, the motorcycle stops, the engine settling into a quiet idle as the hot metal begins to cool with ticks and cracks.

He shuts the engine and swings one long leg over the seat.

You open your front door and run into his arms. He catches you easily, wrapping you up in him.

“Joel,” you whisper into the aged leather of his jacket.

“Hiya darlin’” he drawls, dragging you closer to capture your lips.

You only break apart when you feel a small movement beneath his jacket, the shifting making you pull back in surprise.

He throws you a sheepish smile and tucks you into his side. “Let’s get inside.”

The door shuts from the force of his booted foot and he switches on the small light by the couch.

“Come ‘ere,” he whispers, sitting down and crooking his finger at you.

You bring yourself between his spread legs and let out a slight squeak when he tugs you down to sit along his thigh.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You return the sentiment and run your fingers through his mussed hair.

“I have somethin’ to show you,” he says as he grabs the zipper of his jacket.

“Should I be scared?” you ask with a giggle.

“Nah darlin.’ You’re gonna love it.”

The pull of his zipper is deliberate as he keeps his eyes trained on you, your eyes staring at his hand.

“Joel…hurry up!” you whine, bouncing on his leg.

“Quit bouncin’ around and distracting me,” he tuts, throwing you a wink.

You sit perfectly still and eye him suspiciously.

That’s when you hear it. The tiniest, squeakiest meow ever.

“Oh my go…. IT’S A BABY KITTEN!!!”

You can’t contain yourself as he pulls out the cutest black kitten you’ve ever seen and you try your hardest to stifle your squeals of happiness. It’s tiny paws are clinging to his calloused fingers, adorned with tattoos, creating a stark contrast against her delicate and soft black fur. In his large hand she looks even tinier and her round glowing eyes are framed by a wild mane of fur.

“I found her by the dumpster at the back of the bar,” he explains. “I was helping Tommy with the trash and heard her cryin’.”

He cradles her against his chest and gently scratches behind her ears, his typically gruff voice becoming soothing as he coos sweet nothings. The kitten, as if sensing the safety of his arms, nestles into the warmth of his embrace and closes her eyes.

“I can’t handle this,” you whisper, standing from his thigh and grabbing your phone.

He grumbles out something you don’t quite catch but continues doting on the small bundle of fur in his arms.

With his legs spread wide his dark jeans are stretched tight against the thick muscles of his thighs and his biceps pop in his worn leather jacket. The dark ink of his tattoos is visible even in the dim lighting and when he presses a soft kiss to the top of the kitten’s head you let out a dreamy sigh.

He grumbles again but you ignore him completely, lifting your phone.

You can barely see the tiny kitten, her black fur blending in to him, but it’s sexy and soft and you can barely stand it.

“Can I please…” you start, trailing off when his eyes, dark and promising you anything your heart desires, lift to yours and he gives you an easy nod.

You snap several photos, doing your best to focus on the utter cuteness of the kitten and not how incredible your man looks.

“Can we keep her?” you ask tentatively as you pocket your phone and reach out for her.

He carefully places her in your arms, all his movements delicate in an unexpected way.

“Anything you want, darlin.’ I just want to make sure she’s safe.”

You look up at him, your wide eyes matching the kittens.

“Really?” you say softly, cuddling your face into her fur.

“What are you gonna name her?” he asks as he slides his hand up your thigh then closes it on your waist to tug you down into his lap.

“You should name her,” you say, snuggling yourself against his chest as he holds you and the kitten close. “You found her.”

Your head rests along his shoulder and he’s quiet for several moments, watching you and the kitten interact. You alternate between kissing the top of her head and kissing Joel’s neck, his soft hums of satisfaction matching the kitten’s content purring.

“What about Ink?” he finally says.

“Ink?” you repeat, but then your eyes sparkle with the realization. “Like your tattoos!”

He dips his head slightly but you can see the softness in his expression before he presses his mouth to yours.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper against his lips.

@pedritosdarling @blackwidownat2814 @lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @justkinsey @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @littleseasiren @hallecarey1​

[tired-biscuit]

18+ mdni, fem!reader

thinking about flustered bakugou shoving his fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet during a quicky at his house.

his mom being the strict parent that she is, is also most definitely a force of nature not to be reckoned with; and can thus be quite terrifying if provoked.

so it makes sense why katsuki, ever the momma's boy with a cleverly hidden urge to appease, is sort of nervous and hesitant when you begin to coax and insist that he fuck you in his childhood bedroom well before the sun even starts to set behind the horizon, and you start to stroke his thigh in return.

up and down, up and down, up and down.

what movie were you watching again?

he isn't able to contentrate anymore. your hand is skilful, eager to please. katsuki's eyes flicker across the room as he swallows the saliva that's gathered inside his mouth. it makes his adam's apple bob. makes the column in his neck turn even more prominent than it already is.

goddammit, he's twenty-two - a grown man, but there's something about this happening here, in the house he's grown up and spent his youth in, that makes his heartbeat accelerate nevertheless, and his nerves feel on edge.

i mean, what if someone walks in? catches you mid-act? the door is closed shut, sure, however he's not just nervous anymore as the tips of your fingers touch and playfully tug at the strings of his sweatpants. no, he's visibly scared, too.

leaning in to kiss his neck, you can hardly believe it. your big, strong, stubborn as an ox boyfriend is scared - of his own mother, at that. you doubt denki would believe you if you told him.

but thankfully, luck is on your side, because even the fear of mitsuki's strict hand is not quite enough for her son to resist sweet temptation that only you - his cutesy little girlfriend, can provide. after all, katsuki's jaw may be clenched tight, and his brow does furrow deeply the moment you bat your eyelashes up at him as a form of pathetic persuasion, but he still gives in rather easily to your advances. gives in as if he's a mere plaything in your hands.

and that's because he is. he's exactly that.

so golden sun-rays still continue to seep through the window by the time your skirt is hiked up with a fed up grunt, and your panties are swiftly pulled to the side with the help of two thick, now uncharacteristically fidgety fingers. you're both completely dressed; he's tugged at the waistband of his joggers just enough to free himself, spat on his hand to quickly lube himself up, and exposed you just barely enough to be able to stuff his cock into your tight, unstimulated cunt.

no foreplay. immediately, your lips form that tiny 'o' that drives him wild when he eases himself into you and that first burn that accompanies the initial stretch hits your senses; the one that drives him absolutely feral. katsuki watches, baffled and amazed by your reaction. it's an agony of the most delightful kind - taking him in completely unprepared and raw, he knows.

but you're willing to take it, willing to take him. always and forever.

and as minutes pass, katsuki spends them all by fucking you stupid just like you wanted him to, and by straining his ears for every sound that exact fucking may invoke. his bed is old and creaky, after all. it's a risk he's not willing to take - not when he already has to worry about you gasping with need and whimpering a series of pathetic, "harder, harder...! go h-harder, ki."

and speaking of your whimpering: it's all too loud for his liking, too obvious to what he's doing to you. you sound like a little whore, despite feigning a saint in front of his parents a mere hour ago.

so he moves you to the floor instead.

"put your legs on my shoulders. yeah, there we go... that's my good fuckin' girl." the moment his hips slam back into you and he hits a deeper angle, your eyes roll back and your head tips back against the warm floorboards. your nails sink into his biceps at the sudden pressure and overcapacity; nails clawing at the sleeves of his crisp white t-shirt. you're going to lose it, it hurts, but it hurts so good.

"kat-" the moan that bubbles up your throat and stops you from pronouncing his name fully is ungodly. so very slutty. you can't possibly stop yourself from letting it out.

but he can. two digits, the same as the ones that had previously tugged your cutesy underwear to the side, now bump against your teeth before they rest on the top of your tongue. they fill your mouth instantly, effectively silencing you for the time being.

when you try to moan again, he shoves them in even deeper. right to the knuckle.

"are you insane?!" he hisses. "my mom's gonna fuckin' kill me if you won't stay quiet... please, baby. stay quiet." katsuki's eyes are wide open as he blabbers the words hurriedly, pupils dilating. you can see the anxiety in his dark red irises despite his gruff, albeit soothing voice.

it makes you blink. the arrogance you're so used to seeing in him is completely gone now. he draws back and pushes his entire length into you slowly, lazily; not nearly as hard as when you're alone, devouring each other in the safety of his apartment. not nearly as rough.

still, the sound of wetness resonates throughout the sunny room when he quickens his pace. he's covered in orange sunlight; it makes his skin glow and his hair turn golden. even the blush that's coating his entire face is nearly violent in colour because of it.

he breathes hard and quick as you take a couple of seconds to just stare at him in awe. he can't hide it, your adoring gaze makes his cock twitch and grow even bigger inside of you in the same manner as his ego does; makes his shoulders rise and fall in an uneven rhythm.

how delightful, you've got your smartass boyfriend losing his breath just because of how pretty you look: splayed wide open on the floor of his childhood bedroom.

and speaking of his shoulders, you swear that you can see them come to a halt the moment you begin to suck on his fingers.

reblogs are appreciated <3

[whereireid]

low key based on your latest quaritch fic, but i want quaritch to just make love to me on the beach!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ —𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

— warnings: soft!miles, nsfw content: , p in v, lovemaking, (nicknames - bunny + daddy)

summary: quartich makes love to you on the beach.

“Bunny, quit movin’ around. You’re gonna get sand everywhere.”

Despite Quaritch’s scolding tone, you giggle, your nose brushing against his as he flips your skirt up, his fingers softly massaging your thighs. The beach is abandoned, rid of any life, and when Quaritch had told you he had something planned, you hadn’t assumed this.

Your boyfriend isn’t exactly the romantic type - he’s known for being a scowling asshole, whose tail is always possessively wrapped around your leg, with his arms crossed irritably over his chest. Quaritch is quite literally known for being just short of evil, so when he’d surprised you with a date, which included watching the sunset on Pandora with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, you were more than happy to accept his invitation.

The flowers are tossed to the side now, though, barely visible under the rising moonlight of Pandora. You’re too focused on Quaritch to even care because his lips are peppering soft kisses against your face, his hands gently pushing your underwear to the side, his cock brushing teasingly against your folds.

“Goddamn, bun, this pretty little pussy is always nice and wet for it’s daddy. You been wanting this, baby?” Quaritch asks softly, grinning as he softly begins to thrust his hips, his cock gliding in and out of your cunt delicately.

“More than anything,” you whine softly, your legs wrapping around Quaritch, who watches you with soft admiration, his balls slapping softly against your cunt. “Been so long, daddy.”

His tail thrashes at your words, and your fingers claw softly at his biceps as he thrusts his hips deliberately slow, basking in the way your velvet walls clench down on him when his tip brushes against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt. Everything about Quaritch feels good, from his breath - which shudders slightly when your pussy involuntarily squelches from your slick - to his tail, which curls around your ankle lovingly.

“Been too long, bunny,” he finally says, his voice wavering, his strokes long and soft, watching as your nose crinkles cutely, your fingernails digging into his arms, barely making a dent in his skin. “Feels so good. So perfect for me, baby bun, you know that?”

Quaritch’s fingers graze against your face, his lips pressing softly against yours, his frame moulding against yours perfectly. His kiss sends tingles shooting down your spine, and you moan, the feeling of him being so close to you driving you crazy. Your cunt clenches down on him, your stomach pooling with warmth, arousal licking at every cell in your body, and you feel it.

Your coil breaks. You whine under Quaritch, your body trembling against his, your slick painting his thighs, and he groans into your mouth, his hips stilling inside of you, his cock spewing thick, white ropes of cum inside of you.

It’s so intimate. Quaritch’s lips press softly against yours, and his big hands palm your cheeks, his fingers gently grazing against your jaw. “You’re so pretty, bun,” he murmurs, his ears flittering on his head as you smile up at him. “My perfect girl.”

“When did you get so romantic, daddy?” you ask, your legs still gently shaking as you rub your nose against his, his fangs glistening as he grins down at you. “Flowers and dinner and then this?”

“Just missed you, bunny, ‘s all.”

There’s little light on the beach, now - you can only just see Quaritch’s face in the moonlight, his eyes filled with awe and adoration, his body curling up against yours. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you bask in the feeling of his warmth and his heartbeat, your fingers curling around the steam of your flowers.

It feels so good to be loved.

[waarmsalad]

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: smut, gorgeous ginger, tiddy sucking, pnv, mention of fingering - m not sure what else lmao

Note: first smut yall, i think i did alright 💪💪💪

The hungry look in his eyes sent shivers down my spine.

Dave reached out for my bra as I leaned into him. He unclasped the back, bringing my leg over his lap so that I straddled him. He delicately pulled the lacey material off of my chest, bringing it off of my arms gently.

Once it was off, he paid no mind to it, tossing the bra across the room. Instead he grinned, staring at my chest. "So gorgeous..." he would murmur before trailing his hands up my sides to my tits. He gripped one in his rough hand and squeezed lightly, flicking his thumb over my nipple a couple of times before pinching it lightly.

I gasped softly. Hearing that, he looked up at me through his bright orange curls and smirked. "Like that baby?" He uttered. I nodded, biting my lip gently. Suddenly, he gripped my sides and manhandled me, tossing my body onto the bed. I was now laid flat against the matress, the slight arch of my back only just missing the soft texture of the blankets beneath me.

He flashed me that charming grin once again, all while unbuckling his belt slowly. "You're ready for me already right princess?" He teased, forcing me to remember the torture I had endured when he had edged me to the gods with his fingers just minutes before.

I nodded, due for an orgasm that had yet to be granted by the man before me. Dave pulled down his jeans, not bothering to take the belt out of his pant-loops. He tutted at me, I frowned unaware of the reason I had dissapointed him.

"Words" he demanded. That alone jumpstarted my brain. "I let you get away with it earlier, c'mon now, sweetheart," he sighed. "Sorry, dave-" I started before he interrupeted me. "Dont apologise, sweetheart just answer me."

Frantically I try to remember what he was asking earlier, a split second goes by and I nod "yes, I'm ready for you," I grin as he rewards me with a praise.

The bulge in his boxers was visibly getting bigger as he looked me up and down like I was the tastiest meal he'd ever laid eyes on, he definetily made me feel like I was. My body was completely naked, spread out on the bed, while my cheeks a hue of pink. After what felt like an eternity, he finally kicked off his jeans and slid off his boxers.

His cock stood prominently, which never feiled to get me all hot and bothered. He smiled at me lovingly before I became slightly shy and looked away. He climbed onto the bed. His weight made the matress sink around him as he made his way up to me.

He gently took hold of my chin, bringing my face to his. I glanced at his lips before his eyes, which made him chuckle before brushing a finger on my cheek. I was beginning to feel the ache between my thighs get warmer. "Dave..." I pouted.

He knew what I wanted. Originally he said he wanted to take his time with me but I knew that look he gave me when he looked into my eyes. It always happened like this whenever he said he was gonna try and be patient. Any patience that he had claimed to be there had already vanished.

He gripped the backs of my thighs, yanking me closer to him as he lined up with my wet hole. He paused ever so quickly to look at me. "Ready baby?" He asked again before, raising an eyebrow breifly. I nodded, making sure to speak my mind this time as well. He bit his lip before pushing in, which caused me to let out an almost pitiful whine.

I was already quite sore from the amount of times his fingers had denied my release, but I needed more of him. He thrusted slowly at first, eventually building up to a steady pace. The light clap of our wet skin echoed through the bedroom as he groaned out. I made little gasps and moans each time he hit the gummy spot inside of me, gripping onto his biceps as he sped up a little.

Dave eyes my boobs, sneakily sliding a hand up to roll the erect bud in between his fingers. He continued pumping into me, glancing up at my sex-hazed loving stare before leaning down to wrap his soft lips around the pigmented skin on my mound.

Once he heard my soft mewl at the sensation, he grunted, mouth still attached to my tit as he fucked into me hearder. His bushy pelvis rubbed up against my clit pleasantly as his hips snapped into mine. I moaned out as he kept on, seemingly rougher by each pound.

He switched to my other tit, sucking on it harshly before surprising me by scraping his teeth against the bud. I yelped out, which only fueled his need.

The bed was creaking at this point, the old wooden frame sounded like it was about to collapse with dave abusing my cunt the way he did. He moaned onto the supple flesh of my breasts and decidedly, I brought my hand up to his hair, tugging on some of the curls with one hand.

The other was clawing down his back, undoubtedly being the purpose of another batch of deep scrapes.

The wet squelch our bodies produced sent another wave of shivers down my spine.

When dave slowed down a little, the shallow thrusts felt so good my mind went fuzzy. The moan i let out was almost embartasing but dave seemed to love it. I could feel each of my appendages tingle, my climax sure to be approaching.

He squeezed my hip with one hand as he continued to suckle my tit, fondling the other in his hand generously. A couple more thrusts and I was at the edge, moaning daves name loudly as I came hard. "Mmh, good girl" he praised, groaning before smushing his face into the valley of my boobs and pumping harder, releasing his spend into my womb.

As he collapsed onto me, I could feel his weight, it was comfortable but he was making it just a little harder to breathe. Dave smiled warmly.

It made my heart warm, and though my pussy was overheating already, it got warmer too. After a couple of minutes I made a comment, as the smile plastered onto his beautiful lips didnt let up.

"Well there, smiley" I teased him, stroking his jawline softly. A chuckle rumbled in his chest "I just love you so much," he mumbled into my chest before sighing. A few more seconds passed and he glanced up at me smirking, I could tell what he was getting at, and though I knew that it was already a possibility I wouldnt be able to walk tomorrow, I wanted it too.

"Round two maybe?" I more so stated than suggested. He grinned widely and nodded. "My pleasure, sweetheart."

AHH I DID IT

[cybernightart]

How I imagine Genji under his armour + head cannons!

(slight nudity warning? He still has boxers on but you know...nothing else... anyways heads up)

(Also I drew him in boxer shorts cuz I didn't want him to be naked 👌)

Since the paper is hard to read(also I added more info) here is what each blurb says corisponding to the number:

1. Cybernetic built in to his brain

2. Cybernetic spine

3.face scars from Swiss explosion so mainly just around the eyes and lower face

4.synthetic voicebox

5. Perma tanlines from his blackwatch outfit

6. prosthetic / cybernetic legs start just above the knee

7. Arm chopped off here (mid bicep)

8. Cybernetic brain implant

9. Cybernetic spine (I picture one reason he couldn't walk after he as saved was because Hanzo accidentally broke genji's back during the fight, or of the the OverWatch rescue team may have dropped him while transporting him to the dropship, no one knows! And Genji was so out of it at that point between the bloodless, shock, and the instant pain killers he was given when they realised he was alive, that he can't remember for the life of him what happened, but he doesn't remember Hanzo breaking his back at any point. Which says alot considering he remembers getting stabbed through his neck but not that ...hmmm 🤔)

10. He had more stuff fixed internally, both cybernetic and not, but they're not visible on the surface for the most part

*This is the bare minimum, he normally wears a lot more of his armor on a day to day basis, even when going to bed. This is strictly the bear minimum.

Additional stuff I didn't write on the paper:

.The shoes are a part of the legs but he can detach them and put on different feet(for like if he needs to wear dress shoes or something he has a different kind of feet taking attached that would actually fit into the shoe instead of trying to put a shoe on another shoe) you can also change out the entire cybernetic legs for the most part except for parts that physically connect to his human body which are inside of the cybernetic legs so you can't see it

. Same thing goes for his arm, where he has interchangeable arms, 90% of which also have the Shuriken reloading thing, but he does have one or two that don't energize more everyday non-ninja cybernetic arms. Also so he can change his arm to go with his different armor, because this man builds his cosplays around the fact she has no idea when he's going to be called out to a mission so they all have to be battle ready.

. In my design for current Genji his scars have faded to a much lighter color, still quite prominently they are noticeable but they've healed a lot more and aren't as prominent as they used to be

. He also has little divots in his ears from all his piercings that he got in his youth, which she can't wear most of the time because it wouldn't really be safe with his helmet in battle, but when he isn't wearing his helmet he quite often puts his earrings back in

. Also he's kind of forced to have an under cut now due to the cybernetics. After black watch when he changed into his OverWatch 1 armor, you would just completely both his hair so he wouldn't have to deal with it and it was the least amount of maintenance option, it wasn't until he was with Zen that he started growing his hair out again and with Zen's help (a lot of googling on Zen's part acting like he knows what he's doing) he learned to cut his own hair, and eventually he redyed it green on top

. I like to imagine the red glowing in his eyes wasn't actually the cybernetics it was his dragon, which had a constant red hue to them during black watch most evidently and basically until he started making progress with Zen. Because him and his dragons rage was manifesting into his eyes constantly glowing but because he was constantly in a state of fight or flight and was essentially just surviving until zen helped him start living again, in which his eyes stopped glowing. That is unless he gets really emotional (primarily anger) or very protective, where they'll glow bright green unless he's really really pissed, then they'll be red again...but that almost never happens because he has a much better control of his emotions now, but every now and again his good old Shimada family anger issues can creep up on him a little

Feel free to leave thoughts and opinions, this is just how I see him but I'm more then willing to listen to others opinions on it!

[oppositesattraxt]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑀𝑜𝑜𝑛 [𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑇𝑤𝑜]

[Part One]

Hongjoong walks into the meeting, brow furrowed and agitated as he's been suffering from an itch that he just can't scratch. Every joint in his body has been annoying him and making it hard for him to sit still. He knew that something was wrong but a meeting like this? He could never have comprehended how severe it was.

"Relax," Mikyoung places a hand on her brother's bicep, hoping to calm him down as he looks at some witches who have turned up. "Everyone is here for the same reason we are."

His upper lip curls as he looks away and back to his sister, "and what reason is that? We've had how many meeting about this and nobody seems to know what the fuck is going on." He growls as he storms off and Mikyoung sighs, watching him before looking up at the sky.

It's clear that something is wrong with the moon, even if you aren't connected to it, you can see that it is not the same. It's not as bright, it doesn't... look or feel right. The woman shivers and pulls her jacket around her while someone comes and stands beside her, placing a blanket over her shoulders. "Thank you," she says with a small smile as she looks up at the Alpha beside her.

"Don't stay out here for too long, Mikyoung," Chan says, his own pack heading inside as well as a couple of other wolves she didn't quite recognise the scent of. "It's been cold lately."

The corner of her lips pull up in a sad smile as she hums and bows her head slightly before the smashing of glass has both of them turning their attention to two wolves fighting, stumbling out of the pack house and onto the grass.

Young wolves from different packs, yelling and throwing punches while others began to gather. The younger wolves were feeling the effects faster than others, still learning, struggling, to remain in control and this has been causing their tempers to be quite short.

"Oh-" Mikyoung's eyes widen when she notices it's one of the wolves from her pack. She looks over at the door to find Hongjoong slowly making his way over, not quite racing in to break it up but then again, he always had the mentality that all issues need to be worked out. "Joong!" She calls, rushing over before a large hand wraps around her wrist to pull her back. "No, please, I need to stop them. Jungwon isn't usually like that."

Chan shakes his head but before either of them manage to do anything, Chris walks through, growling and demanding for them to stop. Some of the wolves gathered recoiled at the command in his voice, the power of an Alpha making itself known - Mikyoung being one of them.

"Don't disrespect me by fighting in my pack house," Chris scolds the pups for a moment before he relaxes and asks everyone to make their way inside, "we finally have some news."

The witch who comes to stand in front of the gathered wolves is one some of them are familiar with. Her best friend, Chris, stands close by, his eyes never leaving her and body alert as if he's waiting for the woman to falter.

"The Moon Goddess," Luna speaks, her voice not as strong as it usually would be but still loud enough for everyone to pick up what she's saying. "The Moon Goddess is missing."

Chaos erupts throughout the packs, everyone trying to talk over each other and Mikyoung covers her ears when Hongjoong stands up and yells for everyone to shut up. "Fucking hell, you'd think we were all fucking deaf." He grumbles, sitting back down and looking over at his sister for a moment before looking back at the witch. "The fuck do you mean she's missing? Doesn't she exist as the moon?"

Luna visibly recoils from the harshness of his tone and when the wolf notices this, also noticing how Chris reaches for her, protecting her. He growls, lips curled and ready to defend his friend but a stare from Chan has him staying in place while Hongjoong raises his hands in defence. "I- well, yes, she is but every so many years, she can take on a physical form and wander the Earth and so the spirit of the Moon leaves with her." She nervously looks over at the Alpha, the son of the Moon Goddess and watches how the realisation begins to dawn on him.

His mother, the one he never met, is on Earth and is missing.

Luna carries on to explain what her and the other witches have found, building the timeline and the room remains silent, stunned.

Chris knew something was wrong, he could feel it but he never thought that it was because his mother had gone missing. Months... she's been missing for months and he never knew, he never figured it out. His face falls into his hands, his heart clenching tightly as he tries to calm his breathing. Chris listens to the witch point out the inevitable, the effects that are surely to come that are worse than what are already happening.

"With the Moon Goddess being away for so long, the spirit of the Moon would be slowly draining. The moon, we are losing it." The fear that fills the room is suffocating and a soft cry can be heard from Mikyoung and other wolves spread throughout. "Some of you might already feel... off and I'm sorry but... it's going to get worse. Witches like me are losing our powers, our plants aren't as healthy, everything feels wrong... if what we are dealing with right now is bad..."

"Can you find her?" Chris' voice speaks from the loud whispers through the crowd, "do you think that you and the other witches can figure out where she is? If she's on Earth, she can be found and returned home."

Chewing her bottom lip, Luna looks at the witches standing behind her, all of them nodding. "Yes." She says, knowing that she'll use every last ounce of strength she has for this, "but, Alpha Chris, there's something we need to be prepared for."

Standing up, the Alpha shakes his head, knowing the words she's going to say and refusing to let her say them. "No. If she was, I'd know. We all would know."

Everyone watches as he walks out the room, Mikyoung reaching for Hongjoong's hand and finding him already reaching for her, squeezing her hand in a moment of comfort. Chan stands up, heading over to his brothers and Jongin, talking amongst themselves while Luna leans on Chris for a moment before heading to the other witches with him by her side.

While Chris, he heads into the woods, unsure on where he's going but he knows he needs to clear his head.

They need to find her... they have to. There's no other way this can end.

[astaldis]

Issue no 30 - Scars

@whumpers-monthly

Two little excerpts from Prison Blues with scars

Fandom: The Witcher Netflix/The Witcher novels

Whumpee: Cahir

Whumper: Emhyr var Emreis

Caretaker: Assire var Anahid & Merlin (the cat)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, torture, Dead Dove: Do not eat! (but has some nice comfort, too, starting in the second half of chapter 9)

Summary: While sitting around the campfire with his companions, Jaskier sings one of his favourite songs. Which elicits a very unexpected reaction from one of the more recent additions to the company. Jaskier can be such an idiot once in a while. The good thing is - he knows and is ready to apologise. However, things are much worse than he anticipated and a quick sorry nowhere near enough.

From Chapter 8 - Ruin

"You look much better. The haircut is definitely an improvement. As well as the fresh clothes. Black does suit you," the Emperor says appraisingly when he comes to visit the prisoner late in the evening that day. Thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being clean for once, Cahir was, for the lack of a blanket, already half asleep in his new shirt and pants when the door creaked open, and thought he was dreaming at first. But he was not. The Emperor is here in his cell. And he is, once again, kneeling before him with trepidation, not having a clue about what to expect of the visit. More punishment? Absolution and release? Just another, rather one-sided, chat? Anything is possible. Which is quite unsettling. 

"Let's see if the food and exercise are doing you good, too," Emhyr continues. "Take off your shirt."

Cahir does as he is ordered. 

"Hmm, far better, indeed. Lean, but wiry." Emhyr reaches down to the kneeling prisoner and clutches Cahir's upper arm with one hand, feeling his biceps. "And muscular enough. The push-ups are paying off, I guess." Then, this time with the slightly callused inside of his thumb, he traces down one of the fresh scars that runs from Cahir's shoulder to his wrist, giving the young knight goosebumps all over. "Healed nicely, too. Not painful anymore, I hope?" Cahir shakes his head, surprised at the question. Is the White Flame concerned about him after all?

"Good. I trust you still remember the lesson, though?"

The lesson. Cahir swallows visibly at the memory. Of course, he remembers, how could he forget? Bowing his head and looking down at the stone floor, he nods. 

"What are you waiting for then?" The Emperor suddenly barks at him. "Strip!"

From Chapter 12 - The Present

Later in the evening, his belly full with a delicious and easy to eat fish stew accompanied by two glasses of excellent white wine, something he has not had in what feels like ages, Cahir is totally ready to follow Merlin's example, who, having eaten his share of fish, has already curled up under the blanket in the young knight's bed. However, his grandaunt motions for him to stay seated while she fetches something from her bedroom. A glass jar filled with some kind of ointment. 

"I thought you might want me to do something about those scars." She sits down opposite him again and puts the jar on the table. "So I mixed up this salve for you. The scars won't vanish completely as they are too old already, but together with a special spell I should be able to fade them quite a bit. However, for the spell and salve to work, I will have to trace every single scar with the tip of my finger. It might be somewhat uncomfortable and tingle and itch a little, too."

Cahir nods slowly. He hates those scars. And the memories they bring. Anything that makes them less conspicuous will probably be worth it. 

"I suggest you sit on the sofa. Take off your shirt and I'll start with the scars on your arms. Then we'll see how it goes."

It is slow and indeed tingly and itchy, and not a little awkward having his grandaunt touching him like this. Inhaling deeply, Cahir closes his eyes. Which makes it a lot worse. The cold salve Assire is applying while murmuring the words of a spell over and over does not feel much different from the cold tip of the metal device Dalgart, the torture master, used when he started cutting him, just teasingly at the beginning, merely grazing his skin, sending chills of foreboding up and down his spine. Shuddering, Cahir quickly opens his eyes again and focuses on the sorceress's nimble fingers. Soft human fingers, not metal claws. Fingers that want to help and heal, not tear and torture. There is no blood, just some whitish ointment. Which does not drip down his arms and onto the floor but is quickly absorbed into the skin. Cahir can already see the scars become lighter in colour and less jagged, observe the ugly and very visible reminders of his ordeal in the torture chamber that make him cringe every time he sees them fade. Taking another deep breath, he holds out his left arm to his grandaunt after she has finished with his right, his hand only shaking slightly. 

However, when, eventually, Assire begins to treat the scars on his chest, he loses it. No matter how hard Cahir tries to focus on the sorceress and on what she is doing, all he can think of, see, feel is Emhyr var Emreis standing in front of him in the dungeon tracing his scars with the tip of his index finger in some creepy travesty of a caress before he ... Cahir's stomach turns all of a sudden and he starts to tremble violently, gasping for breath, his heart thumping like mad. Through the loud ringing in his ears he hears Assire say something, but the words are drowned out by the crescendoing buzz. Just a second away from retching all over the place, he suddenly feels something in the palm of his hand. Something small, oval-shaped with a cool, smooth surface ...

Read the story on Ao3 here. But please mind the warnings/tags!

Published: 2022-06-04; Completed: 2022-08-03; Words: 32,676; Chapters: 14/14

[sgcairo]

Babytorre AU Physical Headcanons

Note: I recently saw a post with physical headcanons for Genshin characters and decided to throw out my own, as I was quite inspired. Enjoy!

Dottore: Long (and by that I mean 6'2"-3"). He's huge, towers over everyone (it's terrifying in the dark), and he's very bony. No muscle or fat there, he refuses to sleep or eat on a normal or even necessary level. He has a pretty bad scar across the top of his face from a mechanical accident, and a lot of burns/cuts on his fingertips and palms from the occasional injuries he gets while working. He's pretty gaunt, but he seems to be getting along just fine.

Pantalone: Shorter than Dottore (give or take 5'11", maybe 6'), with a lot more roundness to his face. He's clearly eating well, even if he forgets sometimes, though he also lacks muscle on his figure. He has several lashing scars on his back and palms from his days of thievery and more than enough stab wounds from opportunistic bastards. His body is mostly pristine otherwise, as a banker does need to keep up appearances to be respected.

Babytorre/Anastasiy (BABY): Very few scars, and very underweight and small for his age. A small needle scar on the back of his neck from his time in the pod is his main injury, and he does have a barely visible sprinkle of freckles across his nose (which disappear as he grows up). He does have a few scars around his chest and arms, but none that don't fade with time.

Babytorre/Anastasiy (ADULT): Very few large scars, but a few small ones from accidentally injuring himself one way or another. He's a teensy bit shorter than Dottore, but definitely with a considerable bit of muscle from hauling around ruin guards and sparring with the other Harbingers. His hands have a few burns from making his signature explosives, and there's a large cut down the center of his chest where his heart was replaced by Dottore, but he's otherwise unharmed.

Scapino/Sveta: Short, muscled, but plenty bulked up to hide it. If you can think of a body part, she probably has a scar there. Lashes on her back, stab wounds (especially the big one on the back of her right calf), abyssal corruption all up the insides of her wrists and forearms, and plenty of slashing scars across her biceps, stomach, and thighs. Burns, scars from electricity being applied to the skin, you name it, she's probably got it. Because of the deep laceration on her right leg, she sometimes limps on bad days, but no one cares to mention it to keep their heads.

Irnes: Dottore's physicality, but the whole left (straight on) side of his body is burned. Think fourth-degree burns, his fingertips on his hand are completely black, crooked, and no longer work (he has serious tremors in that hand too). He has a cane to support his left leg, and has several cuts and burns on his other hand from digging around in ruin guards without proper protection. He really carries the same gaunt figure as Dottore, if not more so from when he gets so absorbed in his work that he forgets to eat.

Earl: He looks very similar to Pantalone, however he has an extra inch of height and has a distinct sickly appearance. He has a bit of a hunch when he walks, too exhausted to maintain proper posture, and has scars on the inside of his elbows and forearms from needles being repeatedly inserted. He also has a small hole on the back of his neck similar to Danya and Irnes from incubation, except his is more prominent from being prodded at and opened again for "research purposes.

Misha: Short but fairly muscled, he does haul around bodies and cut into them all day, after all. He's a smidge taller than Pantalone, but he still calls himself short despite it. He has a few scars on his fingers and forearms from combative patients and accidental slips with the scalpel, but otherwise seems fairly intact, minus the deep cut across his cheek from a fight with Beta.

[umbralsound-xiv]

A Welcome Visit.

I hadn't really known what to expect, visiting at his manor. It felt so... Official, somehow. Recieving the letter was a weight off my mind, and as soon as i had a moment to myself... I decided to pay a visit.

Regardless of knock or greeting, the unlocked door revealed a brightly lit foyer with a faint rosy aroma coasting throughout the air. However, it seemed as if only the entrance was lit up as the rest of the home shaded in shadow and dark.

Bexy Amalaryssia gently pushes her way into the foyer with some air of wonder, wide blue eyes gazing over the decor with a faint smile. The sound of heeled boots heralded her journey further into the abode, some hesitance taking her after the first few moments. Ears high, her head slowly tilts, hair spilling over her shoulders as she better listened. "…Mattisaux?"

Mattisaux Baschet had not stirred for quite some time and hearing the door open made him move no differently. Though the moment of quiet did have him curious. “A stranger…?” He breathed beneath his breath though the instant her voice graced the space, his heart leapt in an audible gasp. “Bexy? You are here? Truly?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Of course! I recieved your letter, how could i not be?" She takes a few steps closer onto the rug, ears flicking in an attempt to pinpoint his location. "I am only regretful i couldn't make it sooner…"

A smile colored his otherwise dour lips before he shouted, “Up the stairs! It is to the right of the door! …Or the left. It is around there! Come through the next door on your right once you are there.” He could not be bothered to speak coherently; he was far too excited, twisting his torso to hug the lip of the couch with his arms with his lower half splayed over the couch. There he waited with his head resting on his bicep, enlarged pupils staring at the door.

Bexy Amalaryssia listened, and did as instructed; her wander through the house full of curiosity that she didn't chase for wishing to see him. Slowly, she pushes through the aforementioned doors, gaze finally settling on him with her usual warm smile, given easily from painted lips. "Hello, Mattisaux."

Whether he may have been holding his breath or not, Mattisaux released a sigh of apparent relief when his imagination caught up with her at the door. “Bexy dearest.” His smile melted though his tone was still pleased. With a groan or two, he twisted and adjusted himself to a more proper seat than he held, gesturing out to the room. “You have my most sincere welcome. Pray, rest yourself, dear. Are you thirsty? Mayhap you have want for a snack… somewhere around here?”

Bexy Amalaryssia bubbles a mirthful laugh as she moves to take a seat, a woven basket sat in the crook of her arm. "As though i'd be a guest in your home and not bring gifts? What kind of visitor do you take me for?" Beaming, it's nudged over to him; a bottle of Ishgardian brandy the same make of their last meeting, and a white box that smelled faintly of rich pastry. Bexy doesn't waste a moment to look over him, seeking out an indicator for his health, before her eyes finally settle on his. "…How have you been?"

The usual critical blue of his eyes followed her to where she sat, unblinking well before she caught him by surprise. He hardly leaned over to accept the basket, peeking inside at the treasure. “And what host would I be should I not offer something? You do have my thanks; you know what I enjoy already.” He shrugged a shoulder with a slanted grin then gestured a loose hand over the raw leather of recent claw-markings among other aged bites and gnashes. “I have been better.” He sighed, his mind wandering to more sour topics. “It was an entire ordeal.”

...He was wounded. I can see that much. Beyond the map of scars visible, far older than any trial, there were some that spoke of recency. But by something clawed...? ...What happened, Mattisaux?

Bexy Amalaryssia: "An ordeal that you survived… Gods, i can't tell you the dread i felt, waiting for your letter. Not knowing… I almost came up north to see for myself." The weight seems to roll off her shoulders for seeing him, even if her brow furrows at seeing the wound. "I am glad to listen if you want to speak. Perhaps over a glass of brandy? There are some goats cheese and plum tarts, too. I know you're less fond of sweeter things."

You smile at Mattisaux Baschet.

His dilated gaze shifted from Bexy to her gifts, sighing wistfully with a pause that perhaps ran a bit too long. “That I choose to be responsible now… As is, I can hardly feel a thing. I was just telling that Olivier, do you remember him? That I could run my sword clean through my neck and not feel a thing. Or was that boiling water…?” He snatched the brandy by the neck and inspected it longingly regardless. “Those chirurgeons seem to enjoy making their rounds to choke mysterious potions down my throat. Could be somnus for all I know.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Then perhaps it is better saved for when you can appreciate it fully. I am just… I'm glad, Mattisaux. You were confident you would succeed, and you did, not that i ever doubted you. It is at least one weight from my mind." Gloved fingertips tap her knee, then, lips pulling to a line. "What… Happened…?"

Another grumble, one of likely many, rolled through him while he placed the liquor on the coffee table. Before responding, he dipped his hand back in the basket to break off some of the mentioned cheese though he seemed to just play with it in his hand for the time. “It was unceremonious; I walked right to the Second in Commander, standing there like he usually does, perhaps especially in times like these, and requested my trial.” His next breath drained his chest, his eyes wheeling around while he recollected. “Gods, what an irritating little gossiping group they became, the knights crowded around me just to watch and listen.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "As some Ishgardians are wont to do. No offense. The men aren't any better than the women in regards to the gossiping. Nusciances, the lot of them. Did they take you prisoner? What happened then? You -are- a free man now, yes?"

I should know, i'm married to one. I suppose... I am technically Ishgardian nobility in the most detatched sense, but i only play the part when i truly must. I can compose myself and act as i'm expected, but it's just that. An act.

Mattisaux Baschet: “Yes, I am a free man now. So free I can roam about this house without being yelled at though not quite outside.” He sank back into the cushion, humming in thought. “After they heard what I had to say, with a few interrupting here and there, inquisitors were summoned to take me away where I sat in a gaol for a few days, I think. In truth, it was not terribly uncomfortable, I am not too certain how else to describe it. But that was far from the truth when it came to the day. They led me along without telling me. One of them, a sheepish, meek-looking boy who hardly looked like he came of age was the only one who seemed worried for me. Anyroad, they dragged to a cave that hosted a chimera. A chimera, Bexy. Where did they get one? How did they?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…Gods! I've never seen one, but i have heard of them… And they made you face it? Alone?" Her ears pin back, a sharp frown on her lips. "Who was responsible for that decision? That was hardly a fair fight! Just because you would best any spoken opponent wouldn't warrant… That…" Her gaze traces over the fresher wound with a small frown. "…Bastards. So… What now? What will you do?"

Mattisaux Baschet: “What is there to do when they sent me there to die?” The sharp sound of him kissing his teeth rang in the air. “Every single time I think about it, I feel the pit in my stomach grows larger. I would have slain it for them had there been a leve. I would have even jumped at the chance if something so dire was out roaming in Coerthas. That they wished to kill me with it if I could not slay it,” he sighed, clenching the cheeseless fist.

...That the country he wants to so vehemently defend would want him dead so badly. Even if i don't agree with much of what he says, it... ...It's the sense of betrayal of it all.

Mattisaux Baschet: “Despite the -sanctity- of the trial, I was not privy to their names. Their faces I do know, however… Though I can’t go killing them when next I see them regardless of how good that will feel. This gods damned cruel world.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I would if you asked me. You know that." Her gaze flicks up to his for a moment, where it holds. "You are wounded but alive. More fool them; you have more than proved your innocence. To come for you again would condemn them, but… Well. I would still be on guard, not that i need to tell you that. If some of them wanted you dead, Mattisaux…" She doesn't finish her sentence, but gives a knowing look.

Even while his mind waded through a haze, he knew her look all too well, to which his lips flattened. “You do not need to avenge me; if I truly wished them dead, I would do it myself. I already did away with one of them. The bastard fought alongside that monster though he was hardly worth much effort, he was always weak even to the very last.” He muttered the last sentence in his not too quiet way before picking the volume back up. “For them to allow something like this, well, my reputation must have been more hideous than I originally thought."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "And now it is… Less hideous, hm?" She brightens a little to dismiss her worry, head tilted slightly. "The offer is there, and you need only ask. I cannot believe you fought a chimera, of all things…" Bexy slowly shakes her head with a sigh. "So… Aside your wounds and all else… Everything is well… Yes?"

Mattisaux Baschet: “It would not have been as awful if I, for one, knew what I was up against but also if I had my usual healer. I have become so, dreadfully used to her presence, I was more reckless than I should have been.” Shaking his head, he let out another sigh with her before remembering the cheese that got all over his hand.

Mattisaux Baschet: “Everything else -is- fine, however. My mother… is still alive, there is no more chimera, as far as I’m aware, and I can now walk as freely as I wish without hood, mask, or following the shadows. I can only imagine how much better a time you must be having without me.”

A... Usual healer. He's so private sometimes, though i know i can't be the only person he talks to. I've heard mentions and names, here and there... Hah. And he chides me for being reckless.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "…I hadn't realised you had a usual healer." Bexy chimed, though her icy gaze pried for curiosity. Small nods accompany his words as she listens, smiling gratefully for his circumstances… Which falls, as the subject turns to her. Bexy's icy gaze slowly drifts away, then. "You say that as though i don't enjoy your company, Mattisaux…"

His mouth pressed closed; Bexy’s acknowledgement of his words echoes back to him had him truly listen in a squint. Though, rather than expound further, he latched on to the next topic. “That is still something I can never understand from you, much less as I am now, when you surround yourself with the most curious company. And also a company in the literal sense. I am nothing more than your typical Ishgardian, if not a bit more brutish.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You're a friend, Mattisaux. And in case you hadn't realised, i'm quite used to Ishgardian company. Plenty of people have tried to understand the hows and whys of me, and most fail still; not that it matters. You're not perfect, and we've been at odds more than once. But you… Know how i am, when it comes to those i care for. You're not exempt."

...I'd kill for him if he asked me to. He knows this. He has to know this, doesn't he? I have had to fight for everything good in this world. It's never just been given to me. And although we... Do not always see eye to eye, i know that if it came to it, he would do the right thing for me.

Mattisaux Baschet: “Quite a few of these claw markings here,” his hand absentmindedly searched the healed dips and scrapes of his torso, “remind me how little exception you give me, dear. And not all wounds of marks as I know all too painfully.” The severity of what he meant sunk his shoulders, and his overall self, into the cushion. “My foolishness aside, the mystery is just one part of what’s alluring about you. Should I know all your secrets, I may lose all interest in you."

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Well, lucky you i have more mysteries than i could ever tell you in my lifetime." A half-weary smile looks over the scars, offered to him in some manner of comfort shortly afterwards. "…You know me better than many. Know what i'm capable of." Bexy heaves a small sigh aftter some long moment has passed. "…The situation with the slavers. It… Isn't over. Not yet. But we have the upper hand, still."

Mattisaux Baschet: “The slavers…” He resounded, remembering. “Your sister? She is taken again?” Before she had a chance to answer, he curled his stomach to sit then raise himself into a wobbling stand. Truly, he could not feel a thing, though his body trembled to the effort, needing to grasp the arm of the couch to keep steady. “I can ready myself soon, I need only make it to my room.”

...What? No, Mattisaux, sit down you fool! ... ...Though it's endearing he'd rush to help me so quickly in his state, it's simply not necessary right now. We're in no immediate danger, and he needs to rest. ...Something tells me he's not used to doing that.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "What? No! N-no, she is… She is with us, she is fine, i wouldn't let them take her again. Please, sit down!" Her worry was more than evident from the deep knit of her brow. "Sayuri is fine… Enough. They've messed with her aether to the point it's almost unusable; to which end i plan to take one of them, once he stops hiding. One of the worse ones found us in Ul'dah; me, Vex and Sayuri. It took everything we had to hold Sayuri back."

To the sound of everyone remaining safe and relatively where they ought to be, another sigh, one a bit more ragged, bled from Mattisaux’s throat. He fell back to his seat though he favored a lean over the arm of his chair this time. “Ah, that’s good to hear…” After a slower, deeper breath, he continued. “But why would you hold her back? Me slaying someone on the streets of the Crozier would brand me more than just a heretic. What ties does your sister have in Ul’dah? And who is these Vex? I think I have heard that name twice now.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "In the middle of Ul'dah? With eyes everywhere? No, we can't afford to compromise our prescence there. He did not attack us for the same reason, but was… One of the worst of them; the one responsible for putting Eir in the condition he was in. If Sayuri or Vex were taken by the authorities, Grym has enough coin in their pockets that they'd end up right back in his clutches. I need to be able to wander Thanalan uncontested by authority to seek someone who can hopefully reverse the damage done to her. Vex is the reason they got out in the first place. She arranged their escape in return for her freedom… Which we managed. She's living with me for the time being, and telling us everything she knows about the compound."

Mattisaux Baschet: “Ah…” He paused, the thought mulling around in a lingering silence. “I suppose the ones left behind are clamoring for a way out too. It is more than a little frustration he cannot be slain right then and there. I would go as far as either tracking him out of the city or paying a street urchin to do the deed. Why can it not be as simple as I wish, dear?”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Because life is never simple. They do not know where we live, and i would sooner it remain that way; we left through the aether, to be sure. The one we ran into in Ul'dah was Vairg; a Viera swordsman of some considerable talent, if Vex and Sayuri are to be believed -- And they are. The one i am after is Q'kura, the Seeker responsible for taking Eir in the first place. On top of this, he's also one of their most senior healers, so with any luck, he'll be able to tell us how to fix Sayuri's aether… As well as let her finish putting every bastard that laid hands on him in the grave. Grym is the head of it all, and there's a whole hierachy beneath him. But it's been… Quiet, in the few bells i've been able to try to hunt them. They are still afraid of me." Bexy's lips curl to a smirk that she quickly dismisses. "…Which is both a blessing a curse. They don't want to go outside, still."

...In truth, it's more infuriating than anything. I can't exactly storm into there and drag them out, i just need to wait outside like some vulture. ...But i can be patient. I'll wait. They can't hide forever.

Mattisaux Baschet: “They are afraid of you?” Her smirk did not go unnoticed; a soft chuckle rattled him at her brevity of it. “They will slip in the same way as when they all escaped. I only pray you live up to your image. Would that I could join you in merciless slaughter. Vairg, Q’kura, forgive my non-Miqo’te accent, and Gyrm, you said? For now, I am at the mercy of this society; it hardly matters that my House is lesser, we still reside in this gossip-ridden land. I must recover quickly…”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Vex says so. Their absence from Thanalan proper says enough. I plan to show nothing less than the most formidable side of me, worry not. When the time comes, i would be glad for you to join me… But you must rest, first, much as you might not like to." A small note of amusement, then. "…Doesn't this sound familiar?"

As was his wont, Mattisaux’s brow turned to furls at the musing question until he huffed in remembrance. “That it does though I am in decidedly less hysterics. My care for them is nigh nonexistent, dear, except for mayhap your Sayuri. She is endearing. But my true concern rests with you. Should you ask, my sword is yours. Even now…” He lifted a brow at her.

Bexy Amalaryssia: "I know, and i am thankful." Bexy smiles warmly, leaning a little further forward; she'd have settled a hand on him, had she not been so far away. "…It's different now. Sayuri is not in any immediate danger, nor are any of us. We're prepared. I'll just be… Hunting, is all. We mght have the advantage, but you know that i will be no less careful. Do not worry for me, hm?"

He watched her keenly, willing to lean forward had he not been so already. “You will forever and more ask for the impossible out of me, dear. I swear I will yell and scream at these damned chirurgeons to quit with their dubious medicines and show me to a priest. They are incapacitating me on purpose. Should I not hear from you in the next moon or so, I will only think the worst. You -must- keep me informed.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Perhaps if you were not such a diifficult patient, they need not, hm?" A small tilt of her head, before her eyes narrow. "…Any medical advice i could gvee you would not come from people you would trust, regardless of their skill, so here you must remain. I promise i will keep in contact. I still have enough stationary to write you for a little." Bexy smiles, offering a warm hum.

Neoma nor Adelle would be a welcome face to him, especially in his state. I don't want to tempt fate into an arguement that i will not be responsible for the consequences of.

Mattisaux Baschet: “It is entirely their fault that I threaten to rip their throats out with my teeth with how they treated me initially, they needn’t -continue- sedating me like some animal.” Another grumble escaped him though he did not have it in him to remain upset around her at the mention of the gift she still keeps. “That you use it terribly heartens me though it is rather gaudy, isn’t it? My mother is particularly in love of the Haillenarte’s crest; it’s everywhere, even the air.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "Gaudy? No, i think anything but. I'm actually quite fond of roses. I had thought it smelled pleasant upon my arrival… I do wear them in my hair, sometimes. They symbolise elegance. Danger, if mishandled. A lot of things. You're not fond, yourself?"

Mattisaux Baschet: “I enjoy it all the same, far better than being a bell boy like our False Commander and the others are simply alright. Roses, I would say, are the perfect symbol of Ishgard as a whole. The land, even post Calamity, is beautiful. The city is stunning to the senses in both appearance and function. Her people make up both the petals and the thorns in far too many ways to count. Egh, I could go on and on but I can’t be as poetic as I wish.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "You're surprisingly poetic regardless, Mattisaux." Bexy beams, slowly rising to her feet as she slips from the sofa to stand. "…I promise i will write. If something happens, i'll ensure someone finds you to say so. But it won't. You… You get some rest, yes? Proper rest. You've earned it, after all."

Poeticism doesn't exactly seem the most expected thing from him, but i remember the few times i've heard it from him. Surprising only in his brutality in all other things. ...Though saying the same, i have known others. And i'd be something of a hypocrite, if i didn't consider the same of myself...

Mattisaux Baschet: “Surprisingly?” A scoff colored his mien though it was short-lived to her stand. It was then that he decided to match her smile though it was not quite as vibrant. “I will look forward to it in the morrow and so on. My rest will come whether I will it to or not so you truly needn’t worry over that.” Another pause, brief though it was, held him. “Seeing you has truly, sincerely brightened this sun, Bexy. I am glad you are doing alright, all things considered.”

Bexy Amalaryssia: "But i will worry anyway. You know me." The smile doesn't fade an ilm, regardless. "…I am glad to see you, too. Even through the more difficult suns, it is a comfort to me that all is well for you. Perhaps now i will worry for you -less-, but worry all the same." Brushing her gloves over her attire, she stands a little straighter. "…I'll write. I promise. Take care of yourself, yes?"

Mattisaux Baschet simply nodded and leaned back into the couch. “I will, I will as usual. You take care of yourself too, dear. Until we next meet."

[oh-katsuki]

Golden Boy (Izuku x Reader)

Masterlist 

Pairing: Izuku x Reader

Summary: Izuku was a nice boy, except when it came to you. Yup, UA’s golden boy really knew how to treat a slut like you. 

Content Warnings: Dubcon, slight noncon, dacryphilia, size kink, face fucking, overstimulation, creampie, degradation, humiliation, spit kink, choking, finger choking, pet names, ooc izuku

Word Count: 5.6k 

A/N: I got SCARY h-word over this man and decided that I literally wanted him to hurt me and spit in my mouth. He’s too nice to not be a fucking freak, goodbye. 

Anyway, thank you to @eremiie , @mikaberries , and @veroyktv for beta-reading this!! I appreciate y’all !

Izuku tormented you all through high school. It was almost shameful to admit the way that his gentle teases melted into something far more sinister as the weeks bled into months and years. What started as subtle comments turned into  outright taunts and then the contactless threats no longer remained empty. 

No one believed you. And who would? 

Izuku was a model student and a good friend, someone with a kind disposition who wanted nothing more than to become the greatest hero. What reason could he possibly have to bully you? You’d never done anything to him. 

But he did. For three years he mercilessly taunted you and it only got worse your final year. 

Izuku would pinch at your thighs, sneering at you in the hallways when no one was looking. He’d snake his hand up your skirt and squeeze the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises that eventually littered the entire inside of your thigh. They looked incredibly vulgar and Izuku would torment you about it endlessly, despite knowing that he’s the one who left them. 

He’d crowd you against the lockers after most people had gone home, knowing you’d be there late after your tutoring sessions. 

“Tsk. Quite some marks you’ve got there.” He’d say, stepping up to you, his broad shoulders squared, a half smile creeping onto his face as his eyes studied the inside of your thighs. The marks littered the otherwise smooth skin, visible when looking at you from the front. 

“You get them from slutting yourself out?” Izuku would ask, stepping toward you again. “Y’look like a bit of a whore, don’t you?” 

He’d lean in close to your ear, venom seeping into each of his words as he cornered you. His hand crept up your skirt, eyes trained on yours which widened with fear as he pinched down, relishing in the yelp of pain that escaped you.

You wondered how someone like Izuku could make you feel so small and so insignificant.You couldn’t even bat his hand away as he made a fool of you, pinching at the inside of your leg with thick, calloused, and scarred fingers. It didn’t matter how tall or strong you were because it always seemed that Izuku was bigger, domineering in attitude and words. He really did know how to reduce you to a helpless thing. 

It seemed Izuku was growing more desperate by the day as graduation gradually crept closer. It was like he made less of an effort to hide it, blowing into your ear and whispering vile shit to you while in class, things that would make anyone squirm in their seat. He’d start bumping into you, singling you out, making an effort to get you noticed by his friends so he could have you as a little plaything whenever they hung out. 

And you let him. You let him make a toy out of you, tagging along with Iida, Uraraka, and Asui on Saturday outings, letting Izuku pinch and prod at you from across a restaurant table.

The truth was, Izuku Midoriya fucking terrified you. 

So you couldn’t say no to him. To everyone else you looked like nothing more or less than one of his many admirable friends. Promising quirk and a promising future, what a match for UA’s golden boy. 

You were at your wits end and by the time graduation rolled around. No one listened to you. Hell, people often brushed off Izuku’s very genuine threats as classic childhood teasing. “You’re such a good sport!” they’d say as Izuku patted your back, laughing an all too cheery “just kidding!”

How were you supposed to focus on graduation day, all dolled up in your cap and gown, unwilling to admit to yourself that maybe it was for him? Still, you found yourself automatically flinching whenever Izuku came around, eyes following him across the lawn as he ignored you in favor of photos. Izuku had a promising job offer waiting for him, and his many awards won during the ceremony earned him several congratulatory handshakes as well as pictures for the school’s newsletter. 

Still, he’d catch your eye when smiling for the camera, an all to familiar glint in them. His smile made you sick to your stomach, made it churn in the worst of ways. It was doing back flips as he stalked across the lawn towards you until his sturdy frame was against yours. He leaned down, lips brushing beside your ear to whisper one final taunt. 

“It’s a shame you’re not wearing that little skirt of yours,” Izuku breathed, eyes flitting over the cap and gown. “Would have liked to pinch those skank thighs of yours one last time. S’what you deserve.”  

And then he stood there, watching the way tears began to crowd your waterline, threatening to spill over as three years of tormentation came to what felt like an underwhelming head. Izuku tilted his head, watching the way water stained your made-up cheeks, before taking his thumb and wiping the tears from your eyes. 

“Don’t cry, doll.” He taunted, voice far too sweet for the words that fell from his lips. “I’m not near done with you yet.” 

Why was his tone so comforting? So confusing that you weren’t sure if it was dread or relief that filled your senses, ears suddenly feeling clogged with water. Your eyes darted from his to anyone on the lawn who could see you, who might be watching as Izuku pushed you to tears with only a few words, until you caught Bakugou’s gaze. 

Ah, Bakugou Katsuki, someone who’s done to Izuku what he does to you. It’s a bit of a fucked up little triangle because while Izuku was bullied by him and you are bullied by Izuku, you couldn’t help but hope that Bakugou would be the one taunting you, the one pinching your thighs. At least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe he’d help you, after all, he was probably the only person who’d believe you in the first place. 

So once Izuku had wiped your tears with a condescending thumb and left to go partake of other party activities, you pulled Katsuki aside by the shoulder, fingers digging into the meat of his bicep. 

“What in th- you?! The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked, eyebrows furrowed in the permanent scowl that he wore so frequently. 

“Sh, look please just, hear me out.” You spoke, voice hushed as your eyes shifted around. You had the feeling that if Izu saw you with him, you’d be in for it. “I just- I really need help.” 

Bakugou was about to scoff, was about to roll his eyes and walk away until he saw the redness under your eyes that the makeup couldn’t hide. The way you sniffled slightly as you asked and the way you looked to the floor. He’d never seen you like this, almost broken. It was something he’d seen often in Izuku, but something about seeing you like this made him ache. 

“What?” He responded, trying not to seem too invested. 

“It’s Midoriya.” Your voice grew quiet, almost in shame as you spoke the formal version of his name. 

“And?” Bakugou was impatient. He cared about you but not enough to sit here for five minutes while you stuttered. “Spit it out.” 

“He- he won’t leave me alone.” The words tumble from your lips so fast and before you know it, your hands are balled into fists on his chest, the material of his gown scrunched inside them in a plea. “He’s a nightmare, he pinches me and says the most awful shit to me. I- I mean, the inside of my legs and thighs are littered with bruises and n-no one believes me.” 

“Midoriya? As in, ‘shitty deku’ Midoriya?” Bakugou takes a step back in slight shock. 

“Yes!” You shout, far louder than you intended, pulling him closer slightly as you hush your tone in a whisper. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

He nudged you off of him, brushing off his gown. Bakugou would be lying if he said it didn’t make his blood boil. Sure, him and Midoriya had buried the hatchet a long time ago but he still wanted dirt on the guy, plus he thought it was a coward move for him to bully someone as pretty as you. Though after seeing the way your eyes get wide in fear, he can’t say that it wasn’t incredibly tempting. There was something enticing about how you looked when you begged, no doubt Izuku saw it too. 

“You’re too sensitive.” He scoffed, meeting you gaze and watching the way your expression fell. “What you do is graduate and forget about that shitty extra. There’s really nothing else to it.”

You reached for him again out of habit this time, like if he turned around now you’d really be thrown to the wolves. 

“N-no, Bakugou, please.” You plead again, tears once again gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I-I can’t. I just need help.” 

Oh, he gets it now. 

He sees what makes you so appealing, what makes it so easy to walk all over you. You looked pretty when you cried. So he leaned in, his scowl turning into a smirk before speaking again. 

“No.” Bakugou’s smirk turned into an outright grin, eyes crinkling at the corners before he stood back up. “I graduated. Shitty Deku is your problem, not mine. Deal with it yourself. Just stop talking to him or whatever.” 

And with a wave of his hand he was off, walking towards his group of friends. Well, there goes your life line, the one person who actually believed that Izuku was tormenting you wouldn’t even lend you a helping hand. You supposed it was too much to hope though, and he was right, you could forget… stop talking to him. Why did the idea of that suck almost as much as staying under this thumb? 

“____!” Bunette locks bounced as your friend came towards you, hand outstretched in a wave before she pulled you into a hug. “We’re all going to Midoriya’s place to celebrate graduating, come with?” 

You liked Uraraka. Well, you actually liked all of Izuku’s friends. They were sweet and honestly none-the-wiser to Izuku’s torments and taunts. She wore the kindest smile, eyes bright with the excitement of finally starting her adult life. 

You glanced at the rest of them, eyes flitting around friendly faces until your gaze met Izuku’s. He looked upset, eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes cold as he stood there. They all agreed, urging you to go before Izuku spoke up, smiling gently at you over the top of Uraraka’s head. 

“You should come. We’ll miss you if you don’t.” The rest of the group nods their agreement, but it wasn’t them that pulled the small okay from your lips. It was Izuku, the way his eyes had a threatening glint to them as he spoke, a smile creeping into them in the most unsettling of ways. Your stomach was turning again, twisting over and over because something about the way Izuku looked at you made you squirm. 

“Yay! Okay, we’re all gonna meet there after!” She smiled, taking your hands in hers and giving a small squeal. “It’s gonna be so fun!” 

And with that she was bouncing off with Asui in the direction of Kaminari and Kirishima. 

Izuku stayed behind, walking slower than his friends so he could bend down to speak to you. You could feel his breath against your neck as he spoke, words sending shivers down your spine. Despite the way your heart hammered against your rib cage, you tilted your head to hear him better. 

“You better be there, doll.” He muttered. “It’ll be worse for you if you’re not. Be a good girl for once, yeah?” 

He sounded more upset than usual, hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder hard enough to make you flinch, and when you looked up to meet his eyes, he didn’t wear his standard grin. Izuku looked angry, furious even. It made your skin crawl, made heat creep up your neck and onto your cheeks so furiously that you found it hard to see through. 

All you could do was nod, fighting the pout that tried so hard to paint your face. You squeezed your thighs together instinctively at the phrase. He never praised you, not even once. Hearing the words “good girl” drip from his lips so angrily made them fly shamefully south. He gave a small laugh before walking off. It was almost like he knew, leaving you to rub at your sore shoulder. 

---

Why were you here? You could have just not come and then you never would have had to see Izuku again, never would have had to deal with him until one day in the future when you’re too successful a hero to pinch. Still, you wouldn’t admit it to yourself or anyone else, but you might miss him. The teasing was a nightmare but it was attention, something that reminded you that at least Izuku still saw you. 

He couldn’t be ignoring you if he was calling you a slut. 

You arrived after everyone and Izuku opened the door for you with a jeering grin before stepping aside to let you in, pinching at your thigh again. He noticed immediately that you wore a skirt and he didn’t have to wonder why. It was an invitation for him, of course. 

You’d actually never been to Izuku’s house, so sitting in his living room eating snacks and drinking was unusual to say the least. It was surprising because beyond pinching you in the doorway, Izuku was being oddly kind. 

He sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, but he didn’t try anything. Didn’t whisper in your ear or grab at the fat on your side. You couldn’t help but ask yourself why. Even as the latter half of the day droned on, you were on edge despite being treated, finally, like one of the group. What did you do wrong? Was he no longer interested in you? Most importantly though, why were you upset that he wasn’t pushing your buttons? 

The end of the day came quickly, dark settling over the house while everyone gathered their things to leave. You’d all walk home together, leaving Izuku alone in his house. He smiled as everyone waved goodbye, bittersweet tears in his eyes as his final high school hang out came to a close. He cried at the ceremony while delivering his speech and then again at his house while Uraraka babbled on about her appreciation of UA. You can’t say you felt the same. 

“Not ____.” He said as you slipped on your shoes, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll walk her home since she lives in the opposite direction. Plus, I gotta give her something.” 

Izuku smiles at his friends, who all nod their understanding. They wouldn’t suspect that he’d do anything wrong, that he’d be keeping you behind to maybe, finally, torment you. What a fucked up way of thinking. The door to his house clicked shut and your blood ran far colder than you thought it would as he approached you. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” He taunted, a fake pout adorning his features. “Thought I’d let you off easy? After today?” 

Izuku raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes at the realization that you don’t know what he’s talking about. 

“Wow, you really are a slut aren’t you? Clinging to Bakugou so shamelessly today?” He scowled looked over you. 

Your eyes widened, lips parting as you remembered grabbing at Bakugou’s shirt, pulling him towards you earlier that day in a plea for help. 

“Did you think he would help you?” He sneered. “Bakugou’s just like me. He doesn’t care about a whore like you. Did you think that if you pushed against him like that he’d cave? Fold because your perfect body was flush on him?”

Izuku took your face between his pointer and thumb, spitting venom at you, waiting for you to respond. His compliment flew over your head. 

“N-no.” Yes. “I swear Izuku… I- I didn’t-” 

“You- you- you didn’t what?” Izuku responded, mocking your miserable stutter. “You’re my toy. Pisses me off when you let other people play with you.” 

And then he’s dragging you towards his room, pulling you into the cramped space and closing the door behind him. He’s muttering like he usually does, pushing you onto his bed so you’re sitting on the edge. 

Why were you so relieved right now? Why was your cunt already sticky with arousal? Why did every single word he was saying to you go straight south? You take your bottom lip between your teeth trying to find a way to shake your head in protest— to get up and leave— but the movement just wouldn’t come. Instead, you hang your head, eyebrows pulled up and cheeks flushed with heat as he stares you down. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, hardly audible over the sound of his frustrated breathing and your own rampant heart beat. “I’ve never done anything to you.” 

Izuku scoffed this time, stepping forward and taking your face in his hands again. 

“Haven’t done anything?” His words are venomous and his face is inches from yours, hot breath fanning across your cheeks. Were his hands always this big? “Dressing like that and saying you ‘haven’t done anything’?” 

His eyes flit down to the fat of your thighs, free hand groping the flesh hungrily, hard enough that it had you sucking in a sharp breath. Izuku couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours in an aggressive kiss. 

Truth was, you drove Izuku batshit crazy. Right from the moment he saw you he could hardly contain himself, prancing around in that tiny fucking skirt with an ass like that. Daring to act so innocent when he was gripping the edge of his desk to keep from pouncing on you as you introduced yourself to him, as you hung all over his middle school bully, or as you flashed your hot pink panties while in class. 

To him, you were asking for it and the way you played dumb only made his blood boil further. Izuku was a nice boy, always had been, but the day that he made you cry, telling you that you kind of looked like a slut in your skirt, was the day he knew that he’d have way too much fun with you. 

Your eyes got so big, welled up so quickly with tears that he knew were caused by him. It made him proud, made his chest swell at how quickly he could completely ruin your day. This must be how Bakugou felt, to some degree, except chances are that he wasn’t thinking about what your puffy, swollen lips might look like when you’re choking on his cock. 

He’d been thinking about it since he met you. Pushing you further and further because you were just so fucking cute when you cried and if he couldn’t consume your thoughts because you like him, then he’d have to settle for consuming them because you’re afraid of him. 

You grunted against him, eyes going wide as his lips crashed into yours. You were spinning, heart pounding as his tongue dipped into your mouth hungrily. He pulled away from you quickly. 

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, looking like that.” Izuku seethed. “If you’re gonna play clueless, y’might as well make use of yourself. S’what you deserve.” 

And without asking he pushed you from the bed and onto your knees in front of him. You knew where it was going, knew that Izuku wasn’t going to let up because this boundary was being crossed. Still, you shamefully rubbed your thighs together, blinking up at him in confusion and arousal. 

“Such a whore.” He said, freeing his cock from his pants and letting it slap against his stomach. Izuku relished in the way your eyes widened, in the way you unconsciously licked your lips. And then he’s tapping the side of your mouth with his cock, head tilted back in a taunt as he watches the way your eyes brim with premature tears. He’d show you real crying. 

“Suck it.” A simple command, but one that had you shivering. He kept his hand on your shoulder while his fingers dug into it with a force that was all too familiar. is cock throbbed in his hands as you sniffled and parted those pretty, glossed lips. 

Izuku didn’t wait, no, he couldn’t wait, pushing his full length to the back of your throat and beyond, groaning when it entered the tight, wet space beyond your mouth. His head fell back and his mouth fell open at the way you choked on him. Tears forced their way out of your eyes and down your cheeks as he began fucking your mouth. 

“Y-you’re a real crybaby, huh?” He cooed, a lazy half-smirk gracing his face. “You did this to yourself. Such– a fucking– tease.” 

He accentuated his words with harsh thrusts into your throat, drool pooling in your mouth and dribbling down his cock to his balls. It ran down your chin, mingling with tears as he continued to fuck your throat. 

Izuku was big, far bigger than you expected him to be. He completely filled your throat, stretching your unprepared mouth open. You could feel the sides of your mouth pulling at his size, lips cracking as you struggled to take all of him with each of his thrusts. Still, when you looked up at him through big teary eyes, knees growing sore from the way his fist held you to the floor, other hand pulling you against his cock, your cunt grew wet with arousal. 

He pulled you off him by your hair, watching the way you gasped and sputtered and sobbed. He loved the scratch in your throat as you coughed and he picked you up by the arm and crawled between your legs. 

“Wearing such a tiny skirt to my house.” He spit. “You knew what you were doing, lookin’ like that with your ass out and shit.” 

Izuku’s eyes scanned over you hungrily, like he’s been waiting to get you here for so long. Fuck, he still looked big, hovering over you and supporting his entire weight on one of his arms as his other hand wandered down. He flipped up the fabric of your skirt, admiring the way you flinched as his hand ran up your inner thigh. 

His hands ran over your figure, squeezing at the fat of your stomach, thighs, and chest. Izuku has been dying to get a piece of you since you met, since he first laid eyes on that frustratingly sexy figure of yours that led him to spiral to this moment. His hands dipped back to your inner thigh, ensuring that your skirt was out of the way, though it was so small already that it proved no obstacle at all. 

His breathing grew heavy, hand gently gliding along the supple flesh that he’s pinched so many times, marks from your final day of classes still fading. Izuku’s eyebrows were furrowed together as his hands found your panties, touching you over the fabric that was now soaked through. His eyes snapped to you so fast as he pulled the fabric aside with calloused fingers, wasting no time dipping his fingers into your soaking folds. 

“You fucking pervert.” He sneered, glancing down to show you just how wet you’d gotten, all for him. “You like it when I’m mean to you? So fucking dirty.” 

Izuku rubbed a swift circle around your clit and you brought your arm up to hide your face, biting into your forearm to muffle the sounds. You shook your head, squeaking out a no as his fingers curled up into you. 

“You sure about that? You’re dripping.” Izuku grunted, curling his fingers with his entire forearm and hearing a moan from you. “See? Fucking slut, giving me those eyes, like a lost puppy.” 

It was undeniable how you clenched around him and he let out a curt laugh of disbelief. 

“Oh… you like that name, don’t you, puppy?” He dipped down to bite at your neck, humming into the skin. 

You squirm beneath him but he has you caged in under, your legs unable to move around. Your stomach still turned in fear of him, but that fear was mixing with the intense pleasure building in your core. Even his fingers were a stretch and you could feel his thick cock hitting your abdomen with each aggressive curl, your mind consumed with just how good it would feel for him to break you open. After all, he’s chipped away at almost every ounce of self respect you had. In fact, he practically already owned you mentally, now he was just claiming what he should rightfully own physically. 

“I hate girls like you.” He spat, fingers picking up their pace as you were sent barrelling towards your high. “Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me. So fucking stupid. But look at you now— Your cunt is practically drooling on me— pathetic.” 

You were close, hot with arousal as he lifted your arm from your face. 

“Getting close huh? I can feel your whore cunt clenching. Y’wanna cum?” He grinned widely through furrowed brows. 

Your eyes were glossed over, tears spilling onto your cheeks and for a moment Izuku almost felt bad for you. Still though, you were just too fun to fuck with, too fun to absolutely ruin. You looked prettier than he could have imagined right now; face sticky with tears of arousal, embarrassment, and fear. Izuku was a nice boy, he really was, except when it came to you because now he just couldn’t stop himself from ruining your cunt. 

You were close, impossibly close as you bit your lip in an attempt to muffle the whiney yes that breached your lips. It was involuntarily, almost a survival response as his fingers continued making that delicious squelching sound. Those years of torment were beginning to twist. You were beginning to convince yourself that no, it wasn’t so bad, it’s okay to want to cream on his fingers and be his good girl. 

So you nodded, dew-filled eyes stricken with fear meeting his predatory ones in a confirmation. He was building you up so well, your stomach turning over and over, the knot tightening and set to break. And then he pulled his fingers from you as you clenched around nothing, a blinding orgasm ripped from you all by his fingers. Your back arched up off the bed and pathetic whines left your lips. 

“You’ll have to beg for it.” He smirked, sitting back on his knees, discarding your panties with a hard tug and running the head of his cock through your slick while you whimper. “Tell me you like it. C’mon. I’ll let you cum on my cock if you do.” 

Right now you were certain you’d do anything if it meant you were allowed to cream over him, so you parted your lips, hiccuping through broken sobs. 

“P-please Izu, need to cum.” Your voice was low and quiet. 

Izuku pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, glowering down at you as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up over those perfect tits that he couldn’t get enough of. He sucked in a sharp breath, facade falling for a moment until he brought his eyes back to yours. 

“You like it when I’m mean, huh? Lemme hear you say it.” Izuku gave a cruel smile, eyes darkened with lust. 

“Yes! Yes, I like it.” You shout, hand coming up to grab his arm, speaking through desperate tears. “Please fuck me, please Izu.” 

Izuku bottomed out in one fell swoop, hearing all he needed as he throws his head back, a groan of fucking pathetic falling lazily from his lips. He rolled his head across his shoulders, starting to move in and out of you, stretching your cunt open with each push and pull. 

“So fucking tight. You a virgin?” His tongue swiped at his teeth as he relished in the stretch and the way pain wet your cheeks. 

God, he fucking hated you. Hated every part of you. He hated the way your lips looked so good around him, the way your thighs squeezed so nicely around his waist, the way your tears only egged him on. It all made him want to hurt you. You brought out the worst in him. You were too fucking tempting, too easy. 

You weren’t a virgin but the stretch of his cock made you feel like one. God, you could feel him in your throat as you gripped pathetically at his biceps, a plea to get him to slow down. Izuku wouldn’t listen though, pounding into your gummy walls mercilessly. 

“Not gonna answer?” He laughed, low and threatening before folding your knees to your chest. “Tells me all I need to know. How many men have fucked this cunt of yours, huh? Bet it’s more than I can count on one hand.” 

Izuku brought his hand up to your face once more, squeezing your plump cheeks together. 

“Don’t worry, puppy. Gonna make it so you can’t take anyone else.” He spits in your mouth, forcing it closed. “Fuckin’ mine now, yeah? My little whore, always have been, right?”

You screw your eyes shut, swallowing sloppily as spit drips down your chin and tears streak from your eyes. Where did he learn to speak like this? 

“Say it.” 

You’re close again, so full of him, so desperate for him to give you what you want. You can’t resist him, so you might as well submit. Maybe it will make everything easier because you were finding it harder to pretend that you didn’t like it now. 

“Yours, m’yours.” You choke out, hand flying to his large one to move it over your throat. “Belong only to you.” 

Izuku squeezed the sides of your neck with startling force. It’s almost hateful in how strong it was but it made you whine out against him, voice raking against vocal chords that he forced closed. 

“Slut. S-such a slut.” He stuttered as you clenched around him, hitting your high with a roll of your hips and a pathetic whimper. “C’mon, gimme it, puppy.” 

Oh god, the pay off was unbelievable. The way you whined his name was better than any sob he pulled from you to date.You were so helpless,your body wracking with waves of pleasure and your pussy clamping down around him. This is what he saw in you the first time he made you cry— this expression. He knew you could make it, eyes big and wide, filled with tears and your mouth open in a deep moan. Fuck, he loved it. 

“God, so tight. Good puppy, good fucking puppy.” He fucked into you faster, chasing his own high now as he assaulted your overstimulated cunt. 

Your head spun, no longer preoccupied with the taunting or the tormenting. You were stupid on his cock, his good little puppy, like you were meant to be. You should have given in earlier, should have let him shove his dick down your throat sooner because even though you were struggling to get off his fat cock, you couldn’t, and you loved every single second of it. Izuku was only mean to you, only mean to his puppy. 

You’re so overstimulated, barreling towards another orgasm and now all you can think about is how bad you want him to fill you up. 

“C-cum inside.” You managed to choke out between pathetic sobs and whimpers. You’re crying for it, begging. “Please cum inside of me.” 

Izuku let out a low chuckle before bottoming out one final time, shoving his thick fingers down your throat and filling you up. When Izuku came, he came a lot. It flooded your cunt before leaking out the sides where he had you split open. Izuku couldn’t hide his true nature for long, his thighs beginning to quiver and a low groan becoming a high pitched whine as he emptied his balls inside of you like he’d been wanting to for so long. 

He stayed there for a moment before pulling out of you and crouching down to watch the way he spilled out of you, admiring your ruined pussy and body. You’re stretched out from him, tears staining your cheeks and cunt gaping from his cock.

And then he’s biting at your thighs, marking up the inside of your leg as you can barely manage to push out a squeal. He’s leaving the marks he’s always wanted to. Those pinches on the inside of your leg were a stand in for the ones he’d create with his teeth. He nipped at the sensitive skin before dipping his tongue into your folds to collect the mixture of him and you in his mouth. 

Izuku watched the way you twitched as he cleaned you up, admiring the way your legs flinched whenever he ran his tongue over your sensitive clit. He’s much gentler now but his eyes still frightened you when he came up from between your legs to spit the mixture of cum and arousal back into your slightly parted mouth, ordering you to swallow puppy. 

When you finally do— too tired and fucked out to think about protesting, he smiles— standing up off the bed and buttoning his pants with a heaving sigh.

Izuku turned back to your form on the bed, watching the way your chest heaved and the way your pleated skirt crowded at your hips, ruined cunt on display and shirt pushed up over your bitten up breasts. He made a mental note to remember to take your clothes off next time.

tags: @namrekcaivel , @mikaberries , @cleardamage , @veroyktv , @honeyzawa , @erenstellar , @female-titan , @kiyoobi , @pancakesv , @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein , @lazyezstudy , @jeanbabygirl , @peachysimp , @kirsteiiins , @babybottlepop96 , @ayannamika , @fiaficsxo , @chittaphon96​ 

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[hyunsuks-beanie]

Sweeter Than Dreams

Pairing: Jay x gn.! reader

Genre: Smut/fluff with a suggestive ending

Content Warnings: Smut; wet dreams; masturbation; making out 

Word Count: 0.95k words

Mellow speaks: So since you guys like the spiciness of the vanilla with Hyunjin, I'm here now with my usual spicy being a vanilla! It's been so long since I wrote Jay, but it's so good as always, hope you guys enjoy! 

Tagging: @sweethyuka @yedammi @enhacolor @axartia @hyunsuksmygod  @duolingofanaccount @zurimochi 

He felt so warm, so comforting. You could get used to sleeping in the same bed as him, and truth be told, after having spent the night together for a few times, you were already getting used to it. You hadn't been dating for long, barely two months if you counted out the incessant flirting and mutual pining you'd had going for a lot longer. And so, it was natural that you were still learning the ropes of being in love with Park Jay, or Jongseong as you liked to call him. 

It had been his idea to come over, and you knew that all he needed was some much-deserved cuddle time, something you were more than willing to give him. Maybe that's why as the clock on your nightstand strikes two in the dead of the night, you find yourself smiling a content smile against his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to a peaceful slumber as he drapes his arm around you, pulling you flush into him.

Until he isn't, his grip on your waist going lax till his arm really is nowhere to be found. But the loss of contact isn't really what wakes you up. What actually does is the feeling of his hand snaking down his own body, running along your own stomach and your thighs till he's reached the hem of his sweatpants. Something seems different, something definitely is off. And yet, in your groggy state, you don't quite register what it is until you hear a name being called by a breathy, almost desperate voice.

Your name. Being called by his voice. 

It's soft as first, barely a little above a whisper. You hear it, and you wake up, but finding no signs of him being awake, you begin to let yourself fall back into dreamland. Only to be woken up again not more than a minute later. It's louder this time, and more obvious too. He's clearly calling out your name, a crooked smile on his face when you crack your eyes open.

"Jay?," you groggily whisper, his gorgeous face coming into focus as you regain your senses. But he doesn't reply, leaving you to place a tentative hand on his bicep, trying to wake him up. "Jongseong?," you attempt again, using the name he so loves coming from you and realizing belatedly what a mistake you've made. Because the very next moment, his face is contorted into one of anguish, his lips parting to let a moan escape. A moan that emanates from somewhere deep inside his chest, and sends a tingle down your spine. 

He says your name again, but this time, it's much more aggressive, much more....needy. And it's then that your gaze actually trails down his arm, noticing the unusual angle it's at. It's then that you notice the way his wrist dips into his waistband, and it's then that your eyes land on the bulge in his pants, just barely visible in the dim light. That's all it takes for you to start looking at him, eyes transfixed on his form as he continues to pleasure himself to your name, chasing a climax you've only brought him to in his dreams till now. 

When morning rolls around, Jay wakes up to the feeling of something sticky between his legs, and also to that of a softness pressing against his lips. His eyes fluttering open, he finds you looking at him with your own eyes filled with adoration, but there's something else lurking behind that softness. Something that feels more mischievous more....intimate. And why shouldn't it be, when the both of you've had it on your mind for a little while now? 

Sure, you're still maneuvering around your feelings and working out the subtleties, but that doesn't mean you didn't moaned his name in your sleep, or pleasure yourself to the thought of him. The only difference? You were lucky enough to not have mortified yourself in front of him, but even if he hadn't been so lucky, you weren't one to judge. 

"Good morning handsome," you whisper as you lean closer to him, smirking just enough for his half-asleep mind to register. "Wh-," he opens his mouth to ask, but is quick to cut his words off, his eyes going wide when he realizes just what that stickiness is. The second he does though, his cheeks turn a bright pink, his voice breaking out in stutters and stammers as he tries to apologize. 

Not that he needs to, but you still appreciate the way he gets flustered, and the mere sight of him being adorable like that is enough to make you want to press your lips to his. So you do, your mouth molding against his in a soft show of affection. Except it doesn't remain soft for long, taking a turn the second he kisses back timidly.

Why? Because his timidness doesn't quite sit right with you, making you take matters into your hands as you press a little harder, gripping his shoulders for support and running your tongue along his bottom lip. It does catch him by surprise at first, but he doesn't take too long to respond just as fervently, his arms getting wrapped around your waist as he pulls you on top of himself, sighing into the kiss. 

His kisses make the morning sweeter for you, filling you up with an insatiable warmth and the desire to feel him closer. You don't know how long you stay like that for, but what you do know is that when you pull away, lips swollen and eyes hooded, you're ready to take the next step. The next step that he confirms with a smirk and a tug on your T-shirt. 

Yeah, your morning really felt sweeter than your dreams.

[solarmorrigan]

For the Newmann writing prompts, how about either 7 or 21?

Thank you!

Hello! Thank you very much for the prompts! I ended up filling both because I had some nervous energy on my hands, so I'll post one here and put up the other shortly

Some slightly suggestive stuff below the cut, but nothing explicit. Enjoy?? <3

Semi-NSFW Meme: #7: being drenched whilst wearing white

-

Today has been perfectly nice, Hermann reflects as he settles back in his desk chair, steaming mug of tea cradled in his hands.

The weather is clear and crisp with the oncoming winter, the early commute had been easy, all of Hermann’s students this morning had had their assignments ready and had asked insightful questions in class, and Hermann now has a nice block of time in which to do some grading and appreciate the quiet.

This is, of course, when his office door bangs open.

“Hermann,” Newton announces as he comes stomping in, “today is not going very well.”

This seems like an understatement. There is thunderous look on Newton’s face and a smudge of something purple on his cheek. When he turns to shut the door, Hermann spots a feather caught in his hair. The tie he’d been wearing when they left the house that morning is missing.

He’s also dripping water from head to toe.

“I can see that,” Hermann finally says.

“Oh, can you?” Newton snaps, plucking at his soaking white button-down. “Can you see that I haven’t been having a good day?”

Hermann ignores the sarcasm (really, the louder Newton gets about it, the likelier it is that he’s the one to blame for his predicament) and focuses instead on the issue which is resulting in water being flicked around his office.

“Why are you all wet?”

Newton chews the inside of his lip for a moment. “Okay, so you remember the experiment I was gonna do with my class today?”

“The one you haven’t shut up about for at least a fortnight, between your excessive number of trips to the hardware store?” Hermann raises his brows. “Yes, I vaguely recall.”

“Right, so I had everything ready, and it should have been fine, but I might have forgotten to account for–”

Newton prattles on, but Hermann’s attention is quite suddenly diverted by a drop of water that falls from Newton’s dripping hair, slides down his neck, and soaks into the collar of his shirt.

While this would normally be an easily dismissed detail, Hermann finds himself rather viscerally reminded of the shower he and Newton had shared the other day. Hermann had taken great pleasure in attentively following the paths of the droplets of water that had rolled down Newton’s neck and shoulders with his tongue, nipping and sucking at the skin until Newton had been squirming beneath his hands.

Only when Newton had begged for something—anything—more had Hermann trailed lower, mouth roving over the colorful stretch of Newton’s tattoos–

Tattoos which are actually quite visible just now, Hermann realizes.

Newton’s damp shirt clings to the contours of his body, the plain white fabric gone nearly sheer with water, and the swirls and lines of the kaiju below show through in sharp contrast.

It must be one of Newton’s cheaper shirts, bought in bulk in deference to regular lab messes, Hermann reflects distantly; it’s all but transparent at this point. Hermann can see the peaks of Newton’s nipples right through the front, and imagines he must be chilled by the brisk weather.

The fabric hugs Newton’s biceps and tugs up from the waistband of his jeans as he gestures, revealing a slip of skin that is somehow tantalizing despite the abundance of skin visible through the shirt itself.

It’s then that Hermann recalls that he’s meant to be listening.

“–so I managed to put my tie out, but there were feathers everywhere, and that’s when the water tank broke.” Newton waves his arms, as if to mimic the oncoming rush of water. “And then maintenance came and kicked us all out. So I’ll probably never be allowed to do that again, but I hope my class at least got something out of it.”

They certainly got an eyeful, Hermann thinks.

“And you’re in my office, why?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m out of spare shirts in my office, but I have one stashed in your desk,” Newton says as he crosses around to the other side of Hermann’s desk.

Hermann frowns. “Since when?”

“Since forever?” Newton shrugs. “It’s my emergency-emergency shirt.”

Whatever Hermann had been about to say to that is lost when Newton begins to undo his buttons, revealing a widening strip of his colorful chest.

“Hm.” Hermann turns his chair to face Newton as he strips. “I suppose that shirt really ought to come off. You’ll catch your death, otherwise.”

“Right, that’s why I’m trying to get to my other shirt.” Newton nods towards the desk.

“Your trousers are soaked through, too, I imagine,” Hermann muses, without moving out of Newton’s way.

“Yeah, but I don’t actually have any spare pairs of pants. Probably should, but…” Newton shrugs again. “I’ll just wait it out.”

“Oh, that won’t do. They’ll dry faster if you take them off,” Hermann insists.

Newton steadfastly refuses to pick up on the hint. “O-kay, and what am I supposed to do while I’m waiting for them to dry?”

“I’m sure we could think of something.” Hermann very deliberately drags his gaze down Newton’s body and back up. “A way to warm you up, perhaps.”

For one long moment, Newton simply stares at Hermann, sodden shirt still hanging off his shoulders. Then it dawns on him.

“Really?” he asks, a delighted grin spreading across his face. “In your office?”

And just how is Hermann supposed to react, he’d like to know – alone in a room with his husband, who is wet and showing off nearly as much skin as he’s covering?

“We can lock the door,” Hermann says, as if this excuses anything.

“Why Dr. Gottlieb, this is scandalous,” Newton gasps, laying one hand theatrically over his chest.

“Newton,” Hermann sighs, “take off your shirt.”

The damp fabric hits the floor before Hermann has even finished speaking.