#its a little bit of characterisation

[s0fter-sin]

soap's whole deal being sniper and demolitions gets me going bc on the surface they sound so different but when you get into it, you realise it's bc soap's smart

sniping is all math; calculating distances and wind interference and bullet drop. something i think people overlook is he was listed as a sniper first so it can be implied that he's better at it than demolitions. he does more sniping in both campaigns than demolitions work; in capture or kill, ghost specifically calls on him to take down the aq snipers

and demolitions is math with a hit of chemistry; knowing what mixes with what, knowing how much to use, recognising environmental factors and adjusting accordingly. it's not just about the boom; so much work goes into contained/ planned explosions. especially when having enough power for a breacher charge and not bringing down the whole building is the difference between mission success and failure

the chemical bombs he makes in alone can't just be any old cleaners, they have to have the correct reaction to each other; he just knew off the top of his head what would mix with what to create what reaction. he would also potentially have to recognise them by sight/smell bc they would’ve been written in spanish

soap would also have to know architecture; recognising structural integrity and weak points so he knows exactly where to plant a charge to bring it down and how it'll come down

he has an incredible soldier's mind people just forget that bc he's sociable which itself is a skill

we know he tends to buck against orders he doesn't agree with like when he pushes back against ghost in capture or kill and shepherd when he tells them to release hassan

he gets closer to people and sees if he can trust them and that's when he follows them without question. really think about how he talks to alejandro and rudy; he asks about their home and alejandro's family and rudy's relationship with him. those aren't questions you ask a stranger after a few hours of knowing them. that's not even touching on his relationship with ghost

he also deliberately brings people of higher ranks down to his level; talking informally with ghost and giving him a shoulder punch, addressing alejandro (a colonel!!) by his first name and rudy by his nickname despite literally just meeting them. he personalises all of them and it’s in direct opposition to the reason most characters do that; it’s not due to insubordination or lack of respect, the more he respects and trusts someone, the more casual he is with them

he digs into people; he wants to know what makes them tick and that determines if he can one, trust them and two, follow their orders. once he decides that, he's the ultimate soldier; he bleeds loyalty which makes him vicious when that loyalty is taken for granted

he isn't naive or bubbly or insecure; he's an incredibly smart and aware soldier. he's aggressive and bloodthirsty and loyal and intuitive and i love him so much

[yeyinde]

Bestie boo, where is the tongue piercing drable i am literarely convulsing where is itttt T.T

it's right here 🖤

[topnotchquark]

ValeYellow origin story question mark 🤔

[filmmakerdreamst]

When Will Met Lyra

TV Show!Will Parry: *gets slammed into a table by Lyra* Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you! *Makes her an omlette* Maybe we could look around together Book!Will Parry: *literally gives Lyra a black eye* I'm so tired your'e the least of my worries today since i'm a criminal now wash the dishes if you give me me away i'll kill you

[steakout-05]

quick post clarifying what i'm gonna do with my Crarry art and my Craig design moving forward

i just wanna make this post as short and sweet as i can as i've been struggling to find a way to write this in a coherent fashion (i'm VERY tired today, lol), especially with everything that's been going down in the fandom lately. people are not happy right now. this is a post meant to explain what i'm going to be doing with my Crarry stuff from now on, as well as how i'm gonna be using my fan design for Craig.

on the topic of my Craig x Barry art: i've been a little bit conflicted on what to do with it for a little bit, but i've mostly decided towards keeping it up on my blog for archival purposes. i don't like having to remove my art, especially when 1. it was made with the context that the (at the time) canon truth was that Barry and Craig were nothing but unrelated friends, and 2. it's still good art and it brought me a lot of joy when i first created it. i've regretted deleting art in the past and i think that i'd definitely regret deleting it now, especially if there was a threat of it becoming lost media and i didn't have the files to back it up. i care too much about my art to do that. so, it's all staying up on my blog, with the added disclaimer that it was made before August 17th 2024 and that it was obviously not supposed to portray weird incest stuff. can't do much about putting a disclaimer on it if it's already been reblogged though, so it's only gonna appear on the original post :/

on the topic of Craig himself: this is the bit i'm most excited about, but it's also the hardest bit to explain in a way that makes sense, so i'll try not to get ahead of myself here.

so, to start off with: in this post, i made some doodles showing an improved fan design i had made for Craig that portrays him as a blond nerdy guy with glasses and an injured eye. this is obviously not how Craig ended up looking like in canon and wasn't what i expected him to look like, it was something i made for myself and my own art. even so, he was practically just a skin applied to a pre-existing character whose personality had already been established. but now that the Craig i intended that design to be attached to has been revealed to be something we thought he wasn't (barry's entire freaking dad), i'm gonna do something a little different with my Craig to differentiate him from canon. i'm gonna take everything i liked about him before the reveal, retool him and his personality to better match the ideas and headcanons i had brewing in my head for him, and create a whole new canon for him to reside in. i've basically made him into a slightly divergent alternate version of canon Craig, basically. and it is incredibly self-indulgent, lol. (isn't that what being a creative is all about though..... self indulgence and insane storycrafting)

this bit might be slightly controversial, but what i'm planning with this version of Craig is that i'm gonna continue shipping Barry with him instead of Canon Craig like before. i really like the dynamic that Barry and Craig had in canon before the Dad Reveal Jumpscare Incident, with them sort of being polar opposites who would have some silly banter with each other, but also having a few similarities and shared interests that would bring them together, so that dynamic is gonna be brought over to this canon i've created for myself. it's basically gonna be a smorgasbord of everything i like about these characters with some expansions and slight changes to better fit with what i think would have been cool to see actually happen in canon. i'm likely gonna make a post about how i want to characterise my Craig later, but just know that 1. CranBarry is a thing in my little universe and 2. my Craig =/= Canon Craig and there will be a disclaimer explaining that on each fanwork i make depicting the ship from now on. i should probably give my Craig a last name so i don't have to keep calling him "my Craig" for disambiguation......

this hasn't been done out of spite or disrespect towards HB or anything at all. i'm disappointed with the change they made, and i do think it was very poorly executed, but at the end of the day, what happens in canon is not my story to write no matter how much i want to see in the series, and all i can do is sigh, shrug, pick up a pencil and start enacting the change i want to see for myself. i'm someone who believes that, while art can absolutely be criticised, it's up to the artist to decide what they want to do, and they don't have to cater to feedback if they don't want to. granted, it is a little different in Halfbrick's case because Jetpack Joyride is their product, and they are a sizable company who also makes money and business decisions and has a big audience and whatnot, but you get it right? it sucks, but like.... there's not really much you can do about it apart from write something you'd want to see.

so yeah, that's pretty much everything. i'm hoping this will go over well with everything that's happened because i really do love the gay little relationship i've given these two, i just can't continue doing it with the canon version of Craig for obvious reasons. the only problem i really see this causing is the very slight irritation that will come with possibly having to clarify this every time i post a Crarry thing. it'll probably be no biggie though, i'll just link to this post explaining everything. i sure do love coming up with incredibly convoluted solutions to simple problems looolll, it's my special talent at this point XD ahh well. if there's a bright side, it means i get to be even more self-indulgent and creative with these doofuses, and there might be some new headcanon and fanfic stuff coming later, as well as new Craig art. sucks that canon decided to fold in on itself, but i'm gonna try to ignore it for the most part.

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

I'll be fine and then I'll make any attempt at genuine connection and run headlong into a fucking wall

[cescalr]

Listening to kill all your friends mcr song while editing a weird little limited life ficlet I'll probably never post because, as always, absolutely none of my mcrp ideas play nice with accepted fanon (Except for like 1 or 2 ultimately very superficial things like the colour of grian's wings) and also I hate the fact the tags are conflated with rpf..... because the power went out on our street due to a wholeass thunderstorm. Lightning struck and we heard the crack immediately. No delay. Oh boy. Really great sound but you know kind of awkward to be that close to death beam from sky yk. Also. Power outtage. For the whole area. Not great!

Anyway point being I was writing that ficlet with Devil Doesn't Bargain in mind but accidentally made it very Kill All Your Friends coded. So that's nice. I might post it. Idk.

[waterfall-ambience]

stuff i cant transfer to perpetua because it wouldn't make any sense: associating worm man with actual worms (ie calling him spineless, blind (metaphorically, to the truth), resilient despite his fragility. narrative focus on his ability to heal. other characters wanting to keep him in the dark because they're afraid of how the light (truth) will hurt him. the saying 'even a worm will turn' as the basis of his arc.)

[seiwas]

omg im scared my tags are gonna get cut out

were he not born to be a hero he must surely be born for this. <- I LOOOOVE THISS my GODD are u KIDDDDINGME i looooove that so much monty :(( how it ties back in to the start!!

and the way!! he uses what he learned on izuku. and izuku really DID burst into a million tears 🥺 poor guy probs needs it THE MOST WAAAH i loooove this lil interaction i am MUSH

and when he realises its different from touching you??? OHHHH. BOYYYYYY.

i love this monty thank u for writing this

STEADY BEGINNINGS ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship (eventual friends to lovers), touch starved shouto, physical affection (hand holding + long hugs), good god the yearning, obliviousness, jealousy, fluff + angst, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 3.8K

series masterlist: 2/5

Shouto was born to be a hero.

It is a sentiment shared by reporters and fans alike. Todoroki Shouto, the pride of Endeavor, the saving grace of his family name. True, his development had been entirely up to chance—no matter the intent or cruel desperation behind his father’s actions, he had to rely on the probability that the next offspring would win the genetic lottery—but low and behold, he did, and to many people that alone was a sign of destiny at work.

Ultimately, he chose to continue the path of being a hero himself, but no higher being put him there. His father did. At the time of his birth Shouto had not been a son, not even a baby. He was a project. A small, shapeless, squirmy thing. Malleable, like any young mind. It’s a miracle he retained any will and individuality.

Sometimes when alone with his thoughts, Shouto would hypothesise on the whys and the hows. The conclusion he always comes to is this: any sort of reality in which Shouto succumbs to his father’s ideals and manipulation would have to be a world in which his mother does not exist.

While his existence was planned, and wanted, he was to be a hero and as such, wasn’t cut from love—that came after. He loved his mother. So much so that when she hurt, he hurt. When she cried, he cried. She taught him what it meant to be gentle, to have hope, to aspire to be his own person. Years spent amongst the country's finest heroes and Shouto still regarded his mother as the bravest woman he knew, strong because she refused to be hardened by her circumstances; soft so that she can’t be broken again.

You are like his mother in that regard. Those same echoes of reassurance that softness isn’t weakness, and it isn’t earned. You’ve been touching him more as of late, as if determined to prove it. Static between brushed fingertips, words expressed by simply pressing your knees together, the weight of your hand on his bicep to garner his attention. The build up is subtle and cumulative and yet each instance strikes him with the magnitude of a thermodynamic explosion.

Nobody bats an eyelid to this shift in physicality, which makes it all the more difficult to determine whether he is reading into things or not. It could be that he’s noticing those small instances only because it’s you, and you are all he can think about lately.

You’ve given him permission to reciprocate. He merely has to ask for more if he wants it. What Shouto hadn’t accounted for is the unbearability of being vulnerable enough to ask. An innocent “can you hug me?” becomes so much more daunting to voice with all that longing crowded up behind it. He can’t help worrying you’ll see right through to the bottom of his desires.

A hand comes into view. Bakugo’s ash-smudged finger and thumb pinch and snap together in front of his face. “Come back to Earth, dumbass. Your thousand yard stare is scarin’ my new assistant”.

Shouto blinks out of his stupor and the blurred vignette surrounding his vision recedes. He glances at the skittish man sitting outside Bakugo’s office currently sending worried glances over his shoulder. “I think he’s more scared that you’re back,” Shouto intones dryly. “Isn’t he the fourth one this year?”

“Not my fault they’re all wimps,” Bakugo huffs. A slap reverberates around the office as he throws down a manila folder onto his desk and drops heavily into his chair. He regards Shouto with suspicion overtop his computer monitor. “Whatever you were just thinkin’ about—stop”.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about”.

“I know you always manage to make Olympic level leaps in logic,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and tears open the folder. He slides out what Shouto assumes is a debrief and flips it between his fingers. Shouto keeps quiet. He reclines into the couch cushions and returns to reading the incident report on his lap, counting down from ten in the privacy of his mind. Anytime now.

Three, two, one.

“So what is it?” Bakugo asks, trying too hard to sound flippant but landing squarely on irritation. “Spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm”.

Shouto opens his mouth and closes it again. A wave of hot embarrassment washes over him. He knows Bakugo will do him the kindness of being blunt and honest but it doesn’t make it any less humiliating to admit.

In their younger years Shouto saw something of a kindred spirit in Bakugo. He too did not like touch and aggressively voiced his distaste for it whenever he got the chance—which was often, because divine intervention sought fit to give him the most tactile, handsy friend group possible.

As they got older though, Shouto began to realise that the protests and threats were hollow. Despite being vehemently against affection, Bakugo would allow it anyway, and sometimes even seek it out. The aggression was bravado. Bakugo liked having his friends draped around his shoulders. He liked when Mina kissed his cheek, or Kaminari played with his hair, or Kirishima gathered him into a too-tight hug, or Sero tangled their ankles together on the couch.

Only, for him to comfortably accept it, Bakugo needed to act as though he were doing them a favour by allowing them into his space. And Bakugo’s friends played along without complaint.

From what he’s observed you are also an affectionate person. You are liberal with your warmth and adapt seamlessly to the boundaries of those around you. But you were also visibly uncomfortable whenever people took that affinity for intimacy as an open invitation, and recoiled if they encroached on your own.

Shouto has imagined reaching out only for your body to flinch away from him more times than he can count. It’s a battle staged in his head, ingrown fears. The possibility alone was enough to keep him from reciprocating, set in a state of fawn-like inertia.

“There’s somebody I want to get closer to. A friend,” he begins. Bakugo makes an inquisitive noise, props his cheek against his fist and narrows his eyes as he listens. Shouto retells the story in part, deciding to omit your name, and by the tail-end of it Bakugo’s forehead is deeply creased in dissatisfaction.

“You make all your own problems, Halfie. Y’know that?” he mutters, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and sinking back into his chair. “Fine, you don’t want to make this person uncomfortable, or whatever. If you need a hug so damn badly, why not ask Deku? Not like he’d say no”.

Knowing Bakugo would make his dilemma sound ridiculous is one thing, actually hearing it is another. “How do you know it isn’t about Midoriya,” Shouto returns petulantly.

“It ain’t Izuku or anyone else from your nerd squad,” Bakugo says, dropping his hand to drum on the desk. “I would’ve heard about it”.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t touch people. And that’s fuckin’ fine, yeah? But if you had, I know for a fact any one of them would’ve burst into tears and told everyone in a five mile radius”.

“Oh,” it leaves him a little off-kilter to hear. Shouto leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, setting the report on the dark wood coffee table. The corner of the page is curled, and the spine is creased, and the ink annotation has smudged under his thumb. He details these things as he deliberates, the excuses cloying in his throat and thick like he might cry too.

Bakugo was right—if he craved close contact so badly, why couldn’t he go to Midoriya? He knows he would likely be met with enthusiasm.

“You don't have to tell me who. I don’t care. But you’re overthinking it,” Bakugo grunts at his lack of response, in a way that very much suggests that he cares. “Go ask. If they say ‘no’ it’s tough shit, but the world isn’t gonna end. From what you’ve told me they wouldn’t say ‘no’ anyway. Dumbass”.

Shouto nods and gives up the pretense of reading the paperwork. He feels coltish as he stands and brushes down his front, straightening the creases.

“You’re right”.

“I know”.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” he says. A small smile unfurls across his anxiety-bitten mouth. “You’re a good friend”.

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles. It’s a testament to his concern that he hadn’t cursed Shouto there and then. “Now get out of my office. What are you doing here in the first place? You got your own!”

“Yours gets all the sunlight. And it’s always quiet because nobody comes in here,” Shouto ignores the baleful slit of an eye Bakugo turns on him. “I’m going to take my lunch now”.

“Do what you want,” Bakugo dismisses haughtily, and Shouto smiles while thinking, not for the first time, that he’s very lucky to have friends like these.

The fidgety assistant bows as he exits and turns into the sun-drenched hallway. Warmth drapes around Shouto’s shoulders, lingering at his nape while he descends the dark stairwell where the light doesn’t reach. His boots thud against the linoleum, and he counts each footfall to keep his face neutral as his legs carry him toward your department.

Somewhere between one and one hundred and thirteen, a fraction of Shouto’s courage starts to dwindle. He grits his teeth. A hundred steps can’t be enough to dissuade him after decades of denying himself any kind of indulgence.

The further he goes into the support wing the more elaborate the layout becomes. You’re in research and development, assigned a workshop close to the quirk analysts. Heads turn as Shouto rolls through. Heroes didn’t often make personal visits to this area. If he thinks hard enough he could count a grand number of two past visits and neither of them were for you.

His stride falters when he catches sight of your nameplate. It is fixed to the wall outside your door, polished and gleaming proudly. Shouto traces the characters of your name engraved into steel before raising his hand to knock.

Your voice rings out from inside, “Come in!”

A pitched beeping sound comes from overhead. The workshop doors begin to open in a theatrical fashion, receding like curtains to reveal your space. The floor is mapped out with tape. Clear boundaries drawn between the work benches, the fume cupboards, the vault and your personal office, in an attempt at organised chaos. He might have been more interested in poking around for the first time if he had not felt on the edge of intrusion.

You’re tucked behind your curved desk surrounded by numerous monitors that dwarf your frame. Shouto furtively takes in your cute, rumpled appearance. The upper half of your coveralls have been undone to reveal an undervest, sleeves tied tight around and accentuating your waist.

“Take a seat, I’ll be with you in…” the dull tapping of practiced keystrokes comes to a stop as you notice him in the doorway. The professional veneer disappears. “Shouto?” you say, mostly to yourself. Your gaze slides beyond his shoulder, looking for whoever might be accompanying him. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a worried twist in your mouth that he wants to smudge away. A look in your eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugged at his being. Shouto rolls his shoulders, shaking off the tension, and moving deeper into your office. The doors close automatically behind him. “I’m okay,” he assures, taking the seat across from you.

Your expression gentles, and he likes how your gaze follows him. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he continues. “But if you’re working I can head back”.

“Lunch?” you repeated. Your eyes darted to the corner of the monitor closest to you and promptly widened. “Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

An upswing of fondness catches him like a blow to the chest. His mouth quirks into a smirk. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long. I got lumped with a new project a few days ago and it’s almost done,” the monitors shut off one by one as you sheepishly press each button. Then you gave him a soft, apologetic look, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Must’ve missed me if you came all the way down here”.

Dread shriked through him. The low whirring from the equipment scattered around your workspace is suddenly inordinately loud. Was he that obvious?

You, however, fail to notice Shouto’s anxiety and grab him around the wrist as you pivot the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go before the good stuff is gone,” you tell him.

Shouto had absolutely no clue what the ‘good stuff’ entailed—maybe he should’ve bothered to ask. Atleast it would take his mind off your hand. It’s wrapped around his sleeve, right where the fabric ends, loose enough for him to unshackle from if he wants. When he doesn’t protest the contact you stroke your thumb in an arc over the heel of his hand and squeeze.

Shouto falls into step, too caught up to realise you’ve taken him to the cafeteria. He expects you’ll drop his wrist in the presence of your colleagues, yet you adjust your grip and glance back at him with an encouraging tilt of your head.

“I’m starving. I think I’ll get a rice bowl. Smells pretty good today, don’t you think?”

Shouto hummed his agreement. He felt out of his depth, and he didn’t trust his voice. The spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to his throat. The line is mercifully short and before long he has a warm bowl of food held against his front.

“Did you want to sit in here? I can take us to one of the senior staff lounges instead if you want,” you cast a nervous look across the sparse crowd. “I mean, support engineers aren’t really gossiping types but…”

A petty part of him hoped the whispers would escalate. To have your name linked with his, to be known as a person that you cared about—he found that deeply satisfying, for reasons he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Then again, being alone with you far eclipsed the appeal of flaunting your friendship. “The senior staff lounge sounds best,” he answers after a minute of feigned consideration. You nod, regretfully having dropped his hand, and motion for him to follow once more.

The lounge is a modest room with a kitchenette, a breakfast nook and a few bean bag chairs. It smells faintly like peeled oranges. There are post it notes and blueprints haphazardly stuck to the pinboard, covering an out of date calendar filled out in illegible scrawl. This is no shop awning. There is no rainfall to lend to the ambiance. But you are together in an enclosed space, and that is enough to make his heart beat in anticipation.

You scoot into the breakfast nook. He sits on the same side of the table and tries to subtly spread his knees enough to nudge your thigh. You side-glance in surprise but choose not to mention it. Instead you smile through your first mouthful and ask, “How've things been since I last saw you?”

Achy, like he’s used an atrophied muscle. Lonely, and frustrating beyond words. But he doesn’t say any of that. He digs crescents into his thigh through his pant leg and says, “Boring”.

“Figured that might be the case. I saw the livestream of you fighting Haywire,” you bump your shoulder against his. “The Commission probably dumped a whole load of paperwork on you, huh?”

Shouto wrinkles his nose. He hoped you hadn’t caught that fight. The pursuit of Haywire—an eco terrorist with an electrical quirk—managed to cause an unprecedented amount of damage to the city infrastructure.

“You handled it as best you could. The power grid can be fixed. What’s important is people are alive because of you,” a warm weight covers the fingers restlessly whittling at his pant leg. You pet his hand, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt”.

Guided solely by his impulses, the instant you start to draw back he envelops the top of your hand and sandwiches it between his own. He goes hot and cold all over in quick succession. Boundaries, he reminds himself. But you’re not pulling away. You’re studying him with a knowing gleam in your eye.

Shouto clears his throat. Heat pricks across his skin, concentrated in his cheekbones. “Sorry,” he says. You can ask, a memory echoes. “Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you it’s fine,” you reply firmly. “I’m happy to remind you if you need to hear it”.

“No, I…” his brow furrows. “I’ve been thinking”.

“That’s not good”.

Shouto snorts and shakes his head, his amusement petering out into a shallow breath. “I want to ask. I’ve wanted to ask like you said I could,” he explains vaguely. “I’m not very good at it, I think”.

You make a soft, understanding sound that immediately sets him at ease. “I guess, after denying yourself something for so long it can be scary to let yourself have it again,” you murmur, a faraway look in your eyes. After a pensive moment the sheen fades and your laughter lines deepen, “I’ll do what I did before, then. If you look like you need a hug I’ll ask you instead”.

“In what way do I ‘look like’ I need a hug?”

“You get this—I don’t know how to explain it,” you gesture vaguely at him. “This blankness about you, but not your normal resting face, I mean you don’t seem all there. I don’t like it. I like it best when you’re happy”.

“Ah,” comes his eloquent response. Shouto drops his gaze to where your hands knot together. Every quark in his body is urging him to get closer, and remain close. “Bakugo thinks I should try to hug Midoriya, too,” he adds, oddly flustered.

“Huh. You talked to Bakugo about—? That’s a surprise. A nice surprise, I mean! Well, Midoriya does give great hugs. It would be good for you to…”

Shouto’s thoughts grow louder and he frowns down at his rice. You’re saying something about physical touch and wellness and friends. Dopamine and serotonin. It barely registers. Two truths are pinging around his skull.

You have hugged Midoriya. Of course you have. You’re friends.

You think he’s great at it.

Why is that so unsettling? Teenagers think like this. Single minded and overly emotional.

He feels the shifting of your knuckles under his palm. “Hey. You’ll need one of these back if you’re going to eat,” you say.

“Right,” he lifts his left hand and picks up his chopsticks to take a pinch of rice from his bowl. He chews until the clamouring in his mind has settled, and you patiently accept his stoic silence without explanation. Shouto hasn’t been this awkward since highschool, and even then he was too wrapped up in his familial problems to be aware of it.

“What’s the project you’ve been working on?” he eventually asks.

You take the change of topic in your stride, leaning closer and lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “I’m not supposed to tell you but—it’s for Deku’s new costume”.

“Midoriya is getting a new costume?” Shouto replies. You playfully shush him and he pouts a little.

“Don’t sulk. He doesn’t know yet either,” you poke a chopstick at the corner of his jutted mouth. “It’s my job to prepare a design portfolio and talk through everything next week. You’ll get a new one too, when you break the top five”.

“If,” he amends.

“You don’t think you’ll move up?”

“Reaching the top was never really a priority for me,” Shouto’s attention splinters, half of his focus on the conversation and the other on the sensation of your skin. He considers overturning his hand to entwine your fingers. “I just want to be the best hero I can be”.

You hum, and as if plucking the desire right from his mind, absentmindedly slip into the gaps between his fingers. Shouto steadies his breathing and takes another mouthful.

The rest of the hour passes, syrupy and slow like molasses. By the final minute Shouto’s palm is sticky and reluctant to part from yours. You usher him out from the breakfast nook first, stacking the empty bowls before directing him back toward the emptied cafeteria.

You slide the bowls along the counter for the kitchen staff to take. Then you wipe your hands down your front as you pivot to face him, thrusting out both arms as he stands frozen.

“Can I hug you?”

Shouto touches his face and you laugh.

“This is because I want one,” you clarify with a warm grin, beckoning him closer.

Shouto inhales steps into the embrace, his arms instinctively wrapping around your back. There are less layers this time—the heat of your body is overwhelming, alongside the gentle rise of goosebumps across your bare shoulders. Your breath fell gently on his collarbone, his head lowering to curl into you. He thinks, were he not born to be a hero, he must surely be born for this.

“Thank you,” you mumble, squeezing his waste a final time as you retreat. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Shouto nods. Your presence moves away like the sun being blocked out and he watches you go, departing words caught in his teeth, an incessant buzz in his fingertips. The walk back to his office is a gauzy yellow haze. Every physiological response in his body told him that he was in a free fall, despite his feet being firmly on the ground.

“Shouto!”

Shouto halts mid-step at the familiar voice. He turns to look at Izuku, at the tentative beginnings of his smile. “Izuku,” he says.

“We missed you at lunch—are you feeling alright?” Izuku asks, slightly bemused. “You look kinda… floaty,” his eyes are dark, softened in the afternoon light as they sweep over Shouto’s figure and his face.

"Izuku," Shouto said before he could convince himself otherwise, “Do you want a hug?”

The innocent question appeared to crash into Izuku with the levity of a bullet train in motion. Tears sprang to his eyes, brighter now. Shouto tenses as he is swept into a solid hug. Izuku smells like fresh air, sweat and sweet-salty broth. He holds Shouto as though trying to keep his seams from bursting; thick arms are secure around his shoulders, and a rough palm rubs broad strokes down his back, smoothing the tension until Shouto is relaxed.

You were right. Izuku does give great hugs. Shouto came away doughy, and fuller, and with the stark realisation that while touching Izuku soothed the ache, it still felt completely different to touching you.

Later, as he leaned his head against the desk surface, he sluggishly contemplated the implications of that.

[arolesbianism]

If I ever do get properly into dst character modding I like have to make an oni character mod at some point, but the issue is Id want it to be an Olivia mod so bad but also Nails is as far as I'm aware the only legal character name wise and as such it feels like it has to be them, y'know for the bit. But also I have already written too much Olivia dst dialogue and I need an excuse to use it damnit

[hauntingofhouses]

top/bottom discourse in the satosugu fandom is wild like why are yall so mad about someone else's preferred ship dynamic ???? 😭😭 just block the ppl you find annoying and move on GEEZ

[sttoru]

‘the king of curses doesn’t like sharing. especially not when it comes to his partner.’

☀︎｜tags. heian era!sukuna x female reader. sfw/fluff ? ig. set in the heian era, duh. jealousy & possessive themes. size difference (reader gets referred to as small!). tried to be realistic w/ sukuna’s characterisation so. . . don’t be surprised to read about him killing somebody. therefore, mentions of blood. reader is implied to have a fear of blood (dw sukuna takes care of it teehee). reader gets called 'brat'. not beta read; this sucks ass.

you were taking a stroll outside of the estate, the hem of the floral kimono you’re wearing lightly dragging along behind you. the weather was perfect with not a single cloud in sight.

a pair of silent footsteps follow yours and you sigh. even though it was an usual occurrence, you still aren’t used to having one of sukuna’s servants at your side at all times. your over protective lover insisted that it was for your own ‘safety’. as if anything or anyone could harm you whilst you stay within the four walls of the estate far up in the mountains.

sukuna is continuously busy and thus decided to assign you a personal maid that accompanies you and takes care of your every need when he isn’t able to. well - looking at the bright side of things - at least she tries her best to hide her presence from you. she tags along silently and only speaks when spoken to.

you stop near a sakura tree and tilt your head back to admire its beauty. after a few minutes pass, you hear a different pair of footsteps walking up your way. you turn your head and see a familiar male servant approaching you with his head held low.

his hands were holding onto a platter with a cup of warm tea and a few of your favorite delicacies. the brown-haired man greets you politely. maybe a bit too politely as his voice carries a bright smile, “good afternoon, my lady.”

you return the greeting with a smile of your own. it was like you to treat the servants around the estate with kindness and care — a total opposite of the king of curses. you take a pastry from the platter and look back up at the man, “thank you for bringing me these. i appreciate it greatly.”

the way you treat the ones of lower status has always been an admirable trait of yours. it might have stirred some forbidden feelings for you in the heart of the male servant. he knows that it was impossible - he’d seen how easily sukuna gets rid of those who get too close to you.

but, he isn’t here. the king of curses isn’t present in the current moment. the brown-haired male shifts in his place a little, fingernails digging into the material of the plate he was holding. he was going to do it — no one could hold him back. not even the maid who stood a couple steps away.

“y-you look very beautiful, my lady.” the servant stutters and bows his head at you. you are surprised to hear such a flattering sentence leave the lips of the man in front of you. none of the men around you had dared to be this straightforward in ages. they all knew the possible consequences that such actions could bring after all.

perhaps it was due to the absent intimidating presence of your lover. still, you can’t help but feel grateful. you giggle softly, covering your mouth with your free hand, “thank you so much.”

the male servant gulps at the sound of your laughter. ‘oh, how lucky the king of curses is - to have such a beautiful woman at his side,’ the man thought to himself. he was sure that he could treat you better than the indifferent sukuna himself.

he hesitates to continue the conversation for a second. there was an urge deep within him; to ask if you’d like to have some tea with him in the dining area. it would be extremely bold and maybe way out of line considering that you’re taken.

but, the way you reacted to his earlier compliment gave him a huge confidence boost. one that would sooner or later send him to his grave.

“would you perhaps be interested in joining me for a drink, my lady?” the servant asks and anything that happens after that instant, is all but a blur.

you can’t process the next few moments as everything happens way too fast. the last thing you remember seeing, was the servant before you. a sudden gust of wind passes by and the sounds of quick slashes fill your ears. you couldn’t figure out anything else as your vision gets blocked by something. or rather - someone.

a familiar and large hand covers the back of your head. the scent of the person holding you is also oddly familiar—a certain scent that made a shiver run down your spine from both excitement and light fear.

“sukuna?” you guess and guess correctly. your voice was muffled due to your face being smushed against his torso. you didn’t yet understand what happened, so you try to pull your body away from the king of curses, only for his grip on you to tighten.

sukuna’s face was as emotionless as ever. his eyes look down at the pile of blood near your feet — what was once a human being had now turned into nothing but a pure crimson liquid.

“foolish. absolutely foolish.” the king of curses grumbles, his tone filled with disgust. he doesn’t soften the grip on your body for even a moment. one of his four arms holds you captive against him, his hand firmly yet somehow tenderly cradling your head just above his midriff, “it seems that i cannot leave this place for a single second.”

sukuna glances at your personal maid who had been bowing to him the moment he appeared out of thin air. she could feel his piercing gaze on her and knew exactly what to do without being told: to clean up the mess that stained the garden’s pavement.

“sukuna,” you try to move your head again, but was still restricted. you let out a small whine in response. you just wanted to see your lover after spending an entire day without him. any thoughts about that servant from earlier had long vanished, “i want to see you. can i?”

the request is an innocent one. there isn’t a visible change in sukuna's expression, but the way you asked him that was quite. . . endearing, if he were to explain it. he would comply if it wasn’t for the literal bloodbath he created. which he doesn’t want you to witness.

“not yet.” he replies and effortlessly uses one of his arms to pick your small body up. your lover notices how you try to steal a glimpse at the scene behind you while he moves you around in his embrace. he grunts and gently smacks the back of your head, “no peeking, brat. do as told.”

sukuna knows how much you hate the sight of blood. he's being considerate towards you — even if you do not realise that just yet. however, he also does not have a single regret about murdering that servant. it was to be expected. anybody who dares to make a move on his woman should suffer his wrath.

plus, it's not like you don't know about sukuna's ruthless actions. you’ve come to get used to them; more and more male servants keep dissappearing without a trace after they’ve been ‘too friendly' with you. it's easy to guess who’s behind those disappearances.

it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. as long as you don't see it happening and as long as you get to stay under sukuna's care and protection - you don’t mind.

“can i look now?” you huff after sukuna has carried you away from the garden. the king of curses clicks his tongue at your impatience.

he sighs deeply before allowing you back on your own two feet, “i do not understand why you’re so adamant on looking at me, but fine.”

you waste no time and immediately open your eyes. your gaze doesn’t wander off towards your surroundings—it instantly settles on sukuna. he looked the same as usual; there was not a single change about his appearance and yet you find yourself smiling at the sight of him.

“i missed you.” you hug your lover and feel him returning the gesture a few seconds later. he looks the other way and may seem indifferent to your display of affection, though the man was secretly grateful for it. for you in general.

“mhm.” sukuna lets out a small noise of acknowledgment and that is all you get out of him. he doesn’t have to say much; his body automatically does the talking. he squeezes your body against his — your small frame disappearing behind his beefy arms.

the king of curses doesn’t understand why, but the way your eyes sparkle when looking at him, intrigues him. sukuna had never seen another human look at him like that before after all. they all cower in fear; except for you. you don’t show a single ounce of fear. thus why you are something - someone - he must keep for himself.

he has and will never have any intent on sharing you with anyone. you’re his, for as long as he exists.

[elodieunderglass]

The sidewalks in my neighborhood often feature little wandering moss balls. I have noticed them often and wondered about them. In this part of England, there is a lot of moss always, on everything, everywhere; but that’s sedentary moss, unchanging, holding still - practically characterised by its year-round chilling-out-ness. Moss in the pavement cracks, growing along the buildings and front of garden wall; moss in the gardens and the corners between sidewalk and street. but the tumblemosses are not connected to the continuous belts of stay-at-home moss. They are disconnected, tumbleweeds, pilgrim wanderers: appearing suddenly on the pavement and mooching mysteriously on their own journeys. Like aquarium moss balls but without the currents of the water to justify them. They appear in the middle of the sidewalk in the middle of the town.

The children say they are Moss Children who have broken off from their Moss Family. They often pick them up and carry them around, shouting. Occasionally we have had to take them on train journeys (nobody else seems to have Tumblemoss; it seems to be around our neighborhood.) Sometimes the kids want to make terrariums or things, and so we specifically collect the Tumblemoss, since it’s clearly unrooted and not spoiling anything if we take it home(and I’d feel bad for the kids pulling up actual moss.) but the origins of Tumblemoss, or Moss Children, have always been a bit mysterious. They simply appear, like wild land Marimo, enigmatically. An empty sidewalk in the morning suddenly has a perfect round Moss Child in the afternoon.

Today I learned the secret origin of the Tumblemoss. Would you like to guess it?

[yanderenightmare]

i love your hybrid au sm! the way you characterise each animal to suit not only it’s species, but the characters itself is so creative and nothing short of genius! so it got me thinking, how would you imagine the bnha characters as mythical creatures and monsters ??? ( eg. vampires, wendigos, harpies, werewolves ) etc.

Katsuki, Tomura, Hawks, Deku, Shoto, Dabi

TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?

gn reader

Shigaraki Tomura Ghost

You’ve moved into his old room, and though you furnish it a bit differently than he did when he was still alive, you’ve placed the bed in the exact same spot. It’s been all dust and dead moths up until now, it almost feels like he’s alive again as he sleeps next to your warm body.

It’s only small things in the beginning. Underwear that goes missing, unexplainable handprints on the foggy shower doors, your duvet on the floor even though you’ve never been one to kick it off in your sleep.

You’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal either, but something convinces you to search up the history of the house. You find out a boy had murdered his entire family here—parents, grandparents, his sister—and that the boy himself was never found.

Obviously, you shut your laptop with a bang and try and will it away from your mind. It happened years and years ago—whoever that boy was, he was long since dead. But the more it starts sinking in that you’re not alone, the more your belief feeds him—makes him feel real again, as though you’re slowly bringing him back to life.

Sometimes, you spot him in the mirror of your vanity, but when you twist around, there’s no one there. But you feel him—the gust of cold breath giving you goosebumps, the weight of hands and a chest pressing against yours at night, and the brush of coarse fingertips touching you in places—places that have you moaning his dead name.

Bakugou Katsuki Demonic spirit

He enjoys large houses—preferably something with a bit of history. But every now and again, some moronic humans decide it’s time to wreck the old and build something new—which means he’s often on the move.

He doesn’t mind living alone in his new house until you move in. He’s a little mad at you at first—he thinks you’re one of those wreckers, what with your renovations and whatnot—but then he understands that you’re preserving, not destroying. Apparently, the Gothic manor is your ancestral home built by one of your great-grandparents seven generations back in the 18th century—seems you were the only descendant who felt it was worthwhile to keep. 

He wouldn’t normally stay when someone else moved in—he’d often use his demonic means and scare them on their way. But with you, he settles for dwelling in the shadows, in the many dark rooms you haven’t found a use for yet. But when night comes, and you turn off the lights and go to bed, he can't help but end up in your room—watching you sleep, oh-so-peacefully and blissfully unaware of his presence. But he won’t do anything to you even though he could, even though you make it so easy—he’s grateful to you, his little housemate.

Your bedroom becomes awfully hot at night—you can’t explain it. Nor can you explain why the wind howling through the house sounds more like the groaning breaths of a beast. All you know is that your bed feels heavier than it should if you were the only one in it—and that you don’t dare twist around to see what it is sleeping next to you because whatever it might be, you don’t think it’s human.

You know it isn’t human. It’s too big to be, and its hands are too warm and too rough—and its claws too sharp where they rake into your skin and tuck you close to a chest that feels as though engulfs you. You don’t think it has a heart, only a stomach—and it sounds hungry.

You read up on sleep paralysis demons, and it brings you peace of mind, but only until night comes and you go to bed in wait. It’s the first time he talks to you. His laugh is like rusted clockwork, and his voice is like raked coals—hot and scratchy against your ear as he tells you how your human ways of rationalizing the things you don’t understand are cute and amusing.

Keigo Takami - Hawks Guardian Angel

Being a guardian angel has always been a fun hobby of his ever since the creation—he’s found it to be a nice break from all the other angelic duties he has bearing down his wings. Of course, it’s always sad when your human dies, but luckily, there’s always another one not far behind to steal your halo all over again.

You’re his most recent. He watches over you any minute he can spare, chuckling over all your silly human antics. And though he’s had plenty of humans before you in the long history of man and God, he can’t help but confess you’re his favorite so far. You’re just so cute with your big, adorable eyes and pretty smile.

He begins taking greater pride in his responsibility of being your guardian. He used to see it as but a menial little task he could take to when feeling up for a laugh, but something about you makes him want to watch over you every single second of every day.

And so he does—he has the feathers to spare, especially for something so important. But soon, simply watching over you doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

He knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—so much so he’s afraid he’ll be cast out if anyone were to find out. It’s not right for angels to feel amorous for humans—most would call it deviant and demonic. But he can’t help himself—watching you in your vulnerable state while you undress, bathe, and sleep.

Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Maybe he’ll come to visit you one of these days.

Midoriya Izuku - Deku Hybrid between fae and troll

He protects the forest and nurses all sick and wounded animals back to health, writing down the condition of trees and brushes in his notebook as he wanders for hours until he falls asleep in a moss bed beneath the stars. And though he knows his responsibility is purely to the forest, he can’t help but feel inclined to keep an eye on the little human who lives just beyond it. You’re just so cute with the way you walk the forest and sing songs you think no one hears—wearing your human clothing and living in your human abode behind walls and a door. He just finds it absolutely fascinating. 

Sometimes, you feel like there’s something following you when you walk about the forest next to your house. You’ll turn around to see a cluster of rocks and greenery you could have sworn weren’t there when you walked by—you look away before allowing yourself to think the pile looks an awfully lot similar to a larger human’s huddled form. But sometimes you hear it—the sound of stone scraping methodically, as though walking. You don’t humor the thought until you start finding his footprints outside your house, on the path to the forest—feet thrice the size of your own and sunken as though made by something very heavy.

Your legs go out from beneath you once you first see him—not like those times you’d turned around only for him to pretend to be part of the earth—this time, he’s pretending to be more like you, and it only makes it all that much worse. He’s bigger than a bear, grey-skinned with flecks that remind you of freckles and hair like fresh moss sprouts. His eyes are as green as the fox-fire fungi when night falls—glowing with nocturnal light. When you try to run, he follows suit, making the ground shake so bad it knocks you over. 

He carries you into the mountain where he lives and keeps you there from then on. After all, the part of him that’s fae has considered you his pet from the moment you took a bite of your first forest fruit. It was his gift to you whether you knew it or not, and now you’ll belong to him forever.

Todoroki Shoto Vampire

It’s an awfully boring world. Not much to do when you feel you’ve done it all twice over. The taste of blood has become stale no matter how many different types he drowns himself in at night. Sometimes, he humors the thought of setting his manor ablaze if only to watch the fire roar until the sun rears the top of the roof and finally puts him to eternal rest. But he’s been thinking about it for two or more centuries already, and he’s beginning to doubt his nerve.

Dead things can’t make vows, so he must go on as he decided to when he was still alive—that’s the curse—only another person can break it.

You seem doable enough when you stride into his manor with your little sharpened sticks and silver daggers. It’s been a while since a hunter has graced his presence. The scent of holy water makes him lick his fangs, and the nearly irresistible urge to drink you dry almost has him pouncing on you—but he knows it would be but a fleeting high unworth it in the end when he’d have to live another millennium without the warmth of the sun or another soul.

He drops down before you with grace. You have the tip of your silver dagger pointed up under his chin in the same second but get stunted by his pale porcelain face, showing no signs of aggression and rather riddled with a bleak sort of melancholy you’re not used to seeing on the godless creatures.

He simply stands there, straight-spined and high-headed, with his hands folded behind his back as though showing you respect—and then, unprompted and to your great surprise, asks if you would please make it quick and put him out of his misery.

Todoroki Touya - Dabi Hyrbid between incubi and vampire

He preys in nightclubs on those who have that mischievous glint in their eyes in dire hope their lust can match his. Every day, it’s a dozen new—he can never seem to find the right one—always starving and never sated no matter how much he gorges himself, always thirsting, always dying for more. 

Until you.

You’re but a dainty wallflower who doesn’t want to be there, but you have this scent about you—garden-fresh, like something he’s never smelled before, and his tongue yearns for a taste. He knows what it is once he gets closer to you—the opposite of sin of all things, it’s innocence, and oh, how he craves to devour it whole.

His silver tongue has had so much practice that using it on your gullible ears makes him all but drool, asking you if you’d like some fresh air. You nod your head, big eyes looking at him as though he were some sort of saint for offering. He laps it up—it’s all he can do to pace himself. But when he has you alone, it’s all over for you.

He’s going to corrupt every last piece of you until that once peachy keen taste of innocence has become an ever sweeter taste of syrupy sin. He’s going to make you exactly like him—and your tall fall from grace will leave you blasphemous and beautiful.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[officialspec]

hi! i love your brisbane meshi au and saw you mention that you headcanon senshi as japanese-iranian. genuinely curious, is there a reason why?

a lot of the reasons i read him as japanese are most likely little bits of cultural influence from miss ryoko herself but i still think its fun to tack them onto his characterisation (like the type of food he makes and his quiet, self-sufficient style of masculinity)

the iranian part mainly comes from how hes drawn in modern au sketches/with his helmet off hehee i was reading the ddh volumes in between chapters and it rly struck me how much he looks like a very beautiful middle-eastern man LOL

[prettyoatmeal]

Hey there! I'm new to your work, but I love reading through it so much. I don't know if it's already been done, but could you do a part two of the pegging request with a few of the others (ex: König, Keegan, Roach, Alejandro, etc.)? I notice you do a lot of 141, so I didn't know if you wrote others. Just thought I'd ask. ^^

CoD Charatcers and How They'd React to Reader Asking to Peg Them (König, Keegan, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Valeria)

Warning!! nsfw, mdni, pegging, afab reader in mind using a strap, heavy dom/sub tropes, slight exhibitionism. A/N: Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't write one for König, but his time is now.. then plus some. Hi guys!! Its nice to see you again after a month (????)!!!

Part 2 to this.

Masterlist here!

***************

König I think would just be super confused at first. Not because he's against it, but because he's never thought about it before and is genuinely curious why and you'd find pleasure in that. He's supposed to be doing the fucking..? Why are you...? ...?!?!?!? And he's just scratching his head. But nevertheless, he agrees because he thinks he'd enjoy it though he can't help but be a little embarrassed because he's getting folded in half by his smaller partner.

Unlike Gaz or Soap, you'd need to be very gentle with him. He's a little bit tense when starting out. The lube is cold, the feeling of your fingers in him is unfamiliar, he wasn't used to bottoming like this. But he trusts you, so he isn't against spreading his legs for you.

Very quickly becomes very whiney once you start hitting against that perfect spot inside him. You feel him jolting a little, letting out a gasp and you know you got it.

His thighs squeeze around your sides, calves resting along your hips as you thrust into him with your bright pink strap. You thought it would've been awkward, not expecting the size difference and power difference to combine well, but it did. He keeps you close, his lips on yours at all times until he eventually buries his face into you neck only to moan and whine and cry into your skin.

All in all, it's sweet. He was definitely taken aback with just how much he enjoyed it, craving more and more from you.

"Schatz, p-please. Need more."

So you do the ol' reliable, placing a pillow under his hips, angling your hips just right. And it begins to drive him crazy. His pretty eyes roll back, his lips parted as he moans out your name over and over and over again like a mantra. His cock leaking like a faucet, his tip an angry red and begging for attention, a shiny layer of sweat covering both of you as your hips slap against his ass over and over again.

And it isn't long until he cums untouched, his back arching into the bed as he pulls you into a kiss and moans into your mouth.

**

Keegan is at I've seen characterised as a freak fr so I feel like he'd be similar to Gaz. If anything, he'd want you to fuck his brains out spontaneously.

He's very much the type to purposefully rile you up just so you'd end up pushing him up against the wall, or even tugging him by his collar to the nearest unisex bathroom. He can't help it! He's a massive slut for his lover. Therefore it's always a good idea to keep a strap on you where ever you go with him.

If you don't have any lube around, he's very adamant of you shoving your fingers into his mouth to slick them up. Maybe he'll even bite them a little just so you deliver a slap on his cheeks.

There's really no telling when he wants to stop pushing you. He'll actively fuck himself back on your fingers when they're inside him, going against anything you're telling him just so you be rougher with him. All in all, his main goal is for you to fuck him like you hate him.

With barely any prep, he lets out long whine at the first thrust inside him, wanting nothing more than to be used by you. One hand on his cheek pressing him into the wall, the other gripping at his hip as he arches his back into you.

"G-God, fuck. Harder, please!"

He's gets so vocal, barely able to keep his moans back. Lets out the sluttiest moans as he finally reaches down to quickly jerk himself off, spilling his load over the wall.

Definitely asks you to be rougher next time. He wants you to put him in a chokehold, wrap your hand around his throat and restrict airflow, bend him over and press his face into the bed, make him beg for mercy. Certified freak 7 days a week!!! Let's just hope you're ready to do all the chores around the place for the next couple of days because there's no way he'll be getting up without a stabbing pain in his ass.

**

Roach is really just a blank canvas character, someone that was created for people to insert themselves into his shoes. So with that being said, I'd think he's into it. Nuff said.

You wouldn't need to do all too much to get him to submit. If he's a blank canvas, then I'll make him into a masterpiece. First time with him would be the first time he's getting pegged, period. Unlike König who's a little tense, Keegan or Gaz who are a little too into it, Roach is a neutral.

It's easy to bend him over, press your hands down on him to keep his back arched like a cat, knead his plump ass a little bit. It's so cute that he'll take whatever you give him. Whether you're rough with him making him whine and cry, slapping his ass and spitting on him as you give him no prep, or coaxing sweet moans from him and praising him as you slowly push your slick fingers into his tight hole.

He starts getting so desperate, wanting nothing more than to beg for you to finally fill him as you press the tip of your strap. He wants to push himself back against it, his cock rock solid, dripping with his pre just at the thought of it. But he's too much of a good boy to do so.

So when you finally fill him with a quick thrust, it makes him go dizzy.

He's a real sight for sore eyes; ass in the air, your hands holding him arched and in place, his eyes fluttering closed as he buries his face into the bedsheets below him, the prettiest moans escaping his lips. Soft and breathy, his voice breaking every time you slam against his prostate. He's not as vocal, but there's no denying the sweet noises that are forced from his throat with every thrust.

He's such a sweet boy, completely melting into the bed as you lean down, a wide smile on his lips as you press kisses against the back of his neck.

"Please, please, please, please, please!"

He'd beg as you finally reach down to give his throbbing dick attention. He's definitely saying thank you after he makes a mess of the bedsheets.

**

Alejandro is another one where I don't see him enjoying it all too much. He prefers to do the actual fucking rather than getting fucked. He'll fuck you like it's his last day on earth, giving you the most mind shattering orgasms known to man. He's definitely a BDSM guy for sure, a rope bunny while at it. But when the tables turn, he's unsure about it. He really doesn't believe it's something he would enjoy.

Alejandro is proud of his masculinity, maybe he has too much pride, but being in a place of submission like that is embarrassing to him.

He'd feel awkward being in a place without control over himself which is why I feel the most he'll allow you to do is use your fingers.

Lubing your fingers up, he'll allow you to bend him over once, just once, and only to try it out. Safe word in mind, he caves and lets you bend him over the counter.

"No funny business." Out of everyone on the list, Alejandro is definitely the most hesitant.

Tensing up as you push a finger in, he almost backs out. But knowing how adamant you were about him trying out something new, he makes up his mind and lets you do your thing because he's thinking that just maybe he'll enjoy it.

Like every instance, you curl your fingers to press against his spongey prostate and he jolts in surprise. Hearing a barely audible, low 'fuck' coming from his mouth, you curl your fingers again only to be met with a whiney moan.

"Is that a good fuck or a bad fuck?"

"Good... good fuck, god, please keep going."

Jackpot.

It isn't long until he's jerking himself off, pushing himself back onto your fingers. He doesn't want the feeling to end, though he regains some of his dignity during his post-nut clarity.

"Maybe we can do that more often.. if you want to.."

**

Rudy is a tricky one for me. I'm not that much of a Rudy stan to have an opinion on him + pegging. But I've seen him characterised as a sweeter and more reserved lover. I feel he'd be more like Ghost. He'll take your fingers, maybe a vibrator, but he definitely isn't ready for your strap right off the bat.

He'll ask you to be gentle, face flushed and looking away as you slowly push a finger in him. Curling your fingers in just the right spot would make him let out an embarrassingly loud moan, looking away, his face flushed. Taking advantage of this, his eyes roll back as you abuse the hell out of his poor sweet spot. The feeling is new and strange but oh god, it feels so good. It's immediately too much for him, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he cums so quickly just from your fingers alone.

Switching over to a vibe would elicit the most humiliating noises from him. It's so cute because he'll beg and beg for you to go easy on him, his poor tip flushed and red as you overstimulate him. Torturing him as you press the vibrator against that perfect spot inside him, coaxing him to another shameful orgasm, precum running down the underside of his shaft as he thrusts his hips into the air, it drives him completely mental.

"P-Please! It's too m-much!"

"I'm not hearing red." and he gets so flustered, he's burying his face in his hands.

But red never leaves his mouth, this thighs clamping around your hand as he spills a second, third, maybe fourth load all over his tummy, but that's only if you haven't drained him for all he's got. He might just let you peg him next time.

**

Valeria is all for it. A girl has needs, sometimes a girl just needs to be filled with a strap, and she is A-okay with that. Val knows what she wants and she knows she's going to get it.

Power play is a massive thing with her. So even if you're the one gripping the back of her knees and slamming into her, he won't hesitate to remind you she's in charge.

She'll allow you to lay her down, slowly undress her, spread her legs. She'll let you fill her with your strap, make her moan under you as you hit all the right spots inside her. But you're not leaving her without the pure filth that escapes from her mouth between her heavy breaths.

"Always making me feel so good, sweet thing."

"No, you don't get to stop. I don't care if you're getting tired, this is what you wanted."

"Fucking into me like a bitch in heat."

"Pussy drunk slut for me."

"F-Fuck.. mmh, d-don't stop."

She tends to get a dirty mouth when she's close, almost begging you to rub her clit for her until she gives in an does it herself. You can't blame her, you just didn't respond fast enough!

But it's not enough for her until her legs wrap around your hips, forcing you as deep as possible as she squeezes around the strap and cums around it with a long moan.

After that, she gives you no time to react. You're getting pushed back onto the bed while she returns the favour until you're begging her to stop from sensitivity. But that's okay, because that's what she likes.

***************

After finishing this, I've realised I've put a lot more effort into this one than the 141 one.. whoopsies 😭