#please please please look at eris’s tiny shoulder freckles

[moonpatroclus]

thank you to @b-astora for creating this beautiful commission for me💗 I wish I had the words to express how in love I am with this art. I hope we all love soft sweet tender Azris as much as I do🫶🏻

@erisweek2023

Please do not repost, reblogs welcome :)

[general-gt]

Foresight is 20/20- Part 1/4

Warnings: A person being treated like an object, referring to a person as ‘it’, fearplay, non-consensual (non-sexual) touching, mentions of vore but none takes place, mentions of dissection/torture but none happens and a general warning for Izuku having pretty dark thoughts. If I missed any please let me know!

This is my first post so I’m really nervous but here we go! There’s a surprising lack of g/t for mha and I took that as a challenge! Have some giant Sir Nighteye and tiny Midoryia.

Rubbing his eyes, Mirai sighed and leaned back in his chair. This case was impossible! Some woman with an untraceable brainwashing Quirk had robbed a bank and they couldn’t find her. There’d been no leads when they checked the Quirk Registry and all they had to go off was a few minutes of security footage.

There was no use in continuing what he was doing. It was late, he was exhausted and his laptop was looking more frustrating every second.

Standing up, he stretched out the ache in his limbs and he went down to the agency’s kitchen to have a last cup of tea before he left for the night. Luckily, Centipeder had left out the camomile tea and the corner of Mirai’s lips twitched upwards. It was obviously a jab at his workaholic tendencies, but it was a considerate gesture.

It was as he was sipping his tea that he noticed something laying on the counter and he squinted at it. A doll? Had Eri left it when she was visiting earlier?

Picking it up, Mirai turned it over in his hand, admiring the detailed craftsmanship. Pale, freckled skin, soft, fluffy green hair, even handmade clothes with near-invisible stitching. It looked exactly like a tiny human. He had to wonder if it was made using some kind of Quirk — a Quirk that let them zoom in the see the finer details, most likely.

Gently placing it in his pocket to give back to the girl the next time he saw her, Mirai forgot about the doll.

He finished his tea, packed up his things and went home. The drive was peaceful, considering it was nearly 11 pm and most sane people were asleep. He loved quiet nights and he basked in the only noise being the soft murmur of the radio.

When he got in, he hung up his blazer and quickly changed into his pyjamas. He barely remembered to brush his teeth and wash the product out of his hair before he collapsed into his bed and curled under the covers.

——

Izuku woke up to complete darkness.

It wasn’t the darkness of his home inside the walls, where he still got the soft light of the morning through a little peephole he’d made. He couldn’t see anything and he felt around blindly.

There was fabric surrounding him completely, soft to the touch and smooth. Following the fabric upwards, he stood up and, on his tiptoes, he could feel a flap of some kind.

It was like…

A pocket.

Izuku froze at the thought. He’d been shoved in a pocket and the material was really nice so it could only be one person.

Sir Nighteye. Or Mirai Sasaki. People called him both. He was the head of the hero agency Izuku lived in.

Nighteye was a cold, calculated man that terrified Izuku to his very core. His mama had always warned him about humans like that: they were the first ones to notice when things went missing. But Nighteye was also mean to people his own — well, just humans, considering Nighteye towered over other humans too — size. Izuku had no doubts he’d want to get rid of a borrower, seeing him as a pest.

Holding his breath, Izuku listened carefully but didn’t hear anything and decided to risk it.

Jumping up, he caught the lip of the pocket, half pulling himself up half using his feet to try and get some traction. He got up the side, holding himself up by the shoulders as he looked around. The blazer he was in the pocket of looked like it’d been hung up and Izuku knew the drop would at least break his leg, if not worse.

Digging his hook into the fabric of the pocket, Izuku let the thread dangle down. It didn’t reach the floor all the way but he’d survive that drop. Kicking his leg over the edge, he held onto the thread in a death grip and started slowly shimmying down the wire. The final few inches he dropped without a problem and he tugged his hook down after him.

Glancing around, he didn’t recognise anything around him and cold dread washed over him. Had he been taken to Nighteye’s house? How was he meant to get back?

Sticking closely to the baseboards, Izuku snuck around to get the layout, finding what looked like a living room connected to a kitchen. Upon seeing the kitchen, his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten and he padded quietly towards the nearest counter.

Tossing his hook up, it caught on the counter first try and when Izuku tugged on it, there wasn’t any shifting. Climbing up expertly, Izuku heaved himself onto the counter, unhooking his rope and spooling it back up.

He looked around, searching for anything that had been left out and he lit up when he saw a plate of cookies. Immediately, Izuku sprinted over and snatched one up — they were small enough he could carry a whole one — breaking it in half. One half went in his satchel while he bit into the other with a muffled sound of delight.

So good!

He didn’t usually get sweets so the taste of chocolate was amazing. When he was younger, his mother used to borrow a piece of chocolate or something else sweet for them to share on their birthdays as a treat. The thought of his mother was bittersweet, but Izuku pushed it aside.

He finished the half of the cookie he’d broken off and contemplated grabbing another when he heard it.

“—orning. Yes, I’ll be in the office today.”

His blood froze at the familiar voice, but there wasn’t anywhere to hide. The countertop was bare of any clutter. He could only whip around on his heel and tremble as Nighteye entered the kitchen, a phone held up to his ear.

“Of course I stayed late. Bubble Girl didn’t file her reports correctly and I had to fix it.”

Nighteye’s voice was sharp and Izuku flinched when equally piercing golden eyes locked onto him. In the blink of an eye, he loomed over Izuku, overwhelming in every sense of the word.

“Yes. I’m aware. I’ll be dealing with her situation later.”

A giant hand snatched Izuku up in a bruising grip like he was nothing, trapping his arms by his side and lifting him at a dizzying speed. Nighteye scanned over him with unabashed fascination, eyes flickering at every strained breath and twitch.

Izuku couldn’t even bring himself to scream or cry under that gaze.

“I remember. I’ll be baking them tonight. I have a new ingredient I’ve never used before and I’m eager to try.”

The borrower’s mind blanked, burning terror coursing through him as he processed the words spoken. Surely he didn’t mean Izuku… he- he couldn’t. Why would he… Oh no. Oh no. Nonono. Ohkamiohkami…

The hand clutching him moved and his vision blurred, barely catching Nighteye pinning his phone between his ear and shoulder, freeing his other hand.

His vision focused in time to see the maw of a jar and his heart plummeted.

“Yes, I may be a little delayed. A… situation came up, but it’s been dealt with.”

Izuku was dropped into the jar, hitting the bottom with a thud that knocked the breath out of him, leaving him gasping for air. A cookie was also dropped in, more carefully than he was so it didn’t land on him. The cap was screwed on and Izuku was only thankful it had holes in so he wouldn’t suffocate. He’d rather be eaten than suffocated.

“I’ll see you in the office.”

Nighteye swept out of the room, leaving Izuku in a jar on the counter. He held his freshly regained breath but Nighteye didn’t come back and there was the distant sound of the front door closing.

The tears that had been building spilled down his cheeks. He’d been caught. Oh god, he was gonna die. He was gonna be eaten!

He let himself cry for a long while, heaving sobs that wracked his entire body.

It was only when his tears ran dry that he forced himself to focus. Rubbing his sleeves into his eyes, Izuku took a few deep breaths. He had time. Nighteye had gone for his shift so he had the opportunity to get out and hopefully find somewhere to hide from the human.

He took the cookie that was in the jar with him, shoving it in his satchel before taking it off.

Glancing between the counter and the floor, he estimated that he’d be able to survive if he was careful. The jar was glass and would shatter is he could force it over the edge…

That was the last resort, though.

For now, Izuku used the fact the jar was less wide than he was tall, bracing his hands and feet on either side and climbing up with all his strength. He got to the top and started to carefully unscrew the lid, since it hadn’t been fully screwed on. He kicked it off and it went clattering to the distant floor.

Sliding carefully back to the bottom of his prison, Izuku sucked in a few heaving breaths, shaking out his trembling limbs. Step 1 was finished, now he had to knock the jar over and run out.

Slipping his satchel back on, Izuku backed up and took a running start at the side, sending it careening over. He bolted out the top and the jar went rolling off the counter, shattering on the floor.

He flinched at the clamour, all his instincts screaming at the noise, telling him to run and even if he knew the house was empty, he didn’t stick around. Izuku walked along the side where the wall and counter met, looking for any borrower-made openings.

Honestly, he was surprised when he did find one. It was clearly old and unused but he managed to pry it open and slip inside the tunnels, closing the entrance behind him.

The tunnels inside were well-made, the walls smooth, although they were clearly built with an adult borrower in mind since he couldn’t touch the top of the tunnels if he tried. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Izuku headed deeper into the walls. He soon came across a wide, empty space that was carefully carved out, more than big enough for one borrower. Izuku sighed in relief.

That relief vanished as he spotted two symbols carved on at the back of the space.

One was the symbol meaning the home had been abandoned but they hadn’t been discovered. The other… It was the symbol for a dangerous human.

Izuku winced at the sight. He knew Nighteye was dangerous before, but borrowers only ever labelled one like this if they thought it was an incredibly cruel human. The kind that would dissect a borrower or torture one.

Looking away from the grim reminder, he set his satchel down and slumped against the wall. The empty space seemed mocking, reminding him painfully of the things he’d left behind at home. That he’d had no choice to leave.

Izuku curled up and trembled, allowing himself to properly grieve for what he’d had taken from him.

——

I absolutely love the idea of Sir Nighteye as a giant: he’s just got that terrifying coldness to him! I’m already working on a second part and I have ideas for a third although I’m unsure how long this will be.

[marril96]

Push It to the Limit

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena MacLeod is a bad girl and she needs to be punished.

Warning: Kinky.

Editor: @oswinthestrange​​

You didn't want to do this to her, but she'd left you no other choice. She'd made the decision to misbehave, to be a bitch for no reason other than to spite you all on her own, and she needed to be taught a lesson.

Actions had consequences.

The sooner she learned that, the better.

You swung the whip over her back. The leather connected with the skin with a loud crack that almost made you feel guilty for doing this to her. Almost, for the moment the little hiss of pain left her mouth and she started laughing, heartily, smugly, mockingly, you knew you were doing the right thing.

Rowena MacLeod was a bad girl and she needed to be punished.

She deserved to be punished.

"Is that the best you've got?" she asked, the tone of her voice matching that of her laughter. She tugged at the chains binding her hands above her head and gave a little sway of her hips, a little dance that would have been cute if it wasn't taunting.

"Don't you worry, honey. We're just getting started," you said. You eyed the mark that had already formed on her naked back, a thin, red line amidst the freckled paleness. It suited her somehow, made her more delectable, more attractive. Like an ornament embedded in her skin, beautiful and exquisite and so, so delicious you wanted nothing but to trace your fingers over it, elicit more hisses from that pretty little mouth.

Your pussy throbbed in agreement, pulsated like a little heart between your legs, wanton, needy, ravenous. Slick spilled down your legs, hot and sticky against your thighs.

More. You needed more. More of Rowena, of her pain. More marks on her flawless skin.

"Oh?" Rowena purred. One of your favorite sounds of hers. You got wetter. As if she could sense it, she chuckled. She knew what she was doing to you, knew what effect she had on you. You may have been in control tonight, but it was her who pulled all the strings. "And what, pray tell, do you intend to do to me?"

"That depends on you."

A lot of things depended on her.

You, for one.

"Really?" Her accent was thick in the word.

"Uh-huh. Be good, and it all stops."

Please, don't be good, you begged. Please, be bad. The worse she was, the more fun you had. The more fun you both had.

"And if I decline?" Rowena asked.

You had to smirk, anticipation building up inside of you in the form of bubbling heat between your legs. "Then I'm gonna have to punish you."

She looked over her shoulder, turning her head as far back as she could. As expected, a smirk was plastered over her mouth; her trademark, the signature you knew her best by. Trouble, it promised. A challenge. A dare.

"Bring it."

Her tone was low, icy, somewhere between a whisper and a purr. A combination that made your stomach flutter with anticipation, with rising desire you were finding hard to control.

You needed her.

Needed to hurt her.

Needed to love her.

Needed to have her.

Needed her, all of her.

It was a hunger you could barely control. You didn't want to control it. All you wanted was to unleash it, to unclip the chain around its neck and let it roam free and do and take what it wanted, what it craved so desperately.

Take her.

Claim her.

You swung the whip for the second time. It landed over the welt from the previous strike, and Rowena yelped as if burned. She arched her back, twisted forwards and sideways, slowly but firmly pulling at the chains.

You froze in place, happy shivers replaced by those of fear. Had you hit her too hard? Had you harmed her more than you'd agreed on?

Before you could utter a word of concern, the familiar chuckle rang in your ears. "That's it?"

You breathed out in relief, fear instantly forgotten. Rowena scoffed. You glared. "What?"

"I thought you were punishing me."

"I am."

"Are you?" Another scoff. You could picture her face; nose turned up, mouth shaking with unreleased laughter, expression pure mockery.

"Yes," you said, irritation creeping into your tone. She had that effect on people. On you, especially.

Rowena sighed. "I'm bound in bloody iron, and I barely felt a thing! You might as well have lightly pat me on the back!"

She was goading you, leading you to right where she wanted you.

You happily followed her.

You struck her again, a tad harder this time. "Watch your mouth!"

She took a few breaths to compose herself, then laughed. "Or what?"

CRACK!

A hiss, followed by more laugher. You barely held back a groan, frustration rising, filling you up once little taunt at a time. The woman had an exquisite gift for pissing people off.

"That sure taught me," Rowena said sarcastically.

"Maybe you need some extra lessons."

"From you? Doubtful."

CRACK!

"Was this preparation?" she asked, panting.

Your free fist clenched. Damn her! Damn her and her attitude!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Rowena yelped with each one, pulling at the chains as pain exploded all over her back. Her skin was red now; as red as the polish adorning her nails, a deep, rich scarlet color that turned you on even more. Thin lines covered her back, pulsating, throbbing, painful.

Beautiful.

"You were saying?" It was your time to tease.

"We're getting somewhere," she said.

You pouted, feigning hurt. "Just that?"

"Are you expecting a medal for doing your job halfway decently?"

CRACK!

A deeper, louder yelp.

"Mouth," you reminded her.

She huffed. "Bitch."

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of defiance, Rowena screamed, no longer able to hold it in. You smiled contentedly. There we go, you thought. We're getting somewhere.

Getting right where you wanted.

"What was that?" you taunted. It was time you turned the tables. "I couldn't quite hear you."

Rowena was panting, hungrily gasping for breath. She was shaking, pain mixing in with excitement and taking over, filling up her veins. She was on a high; riding it, basking in it, giving herself over to it.

"Getting somewhere," she said in-between deep breaths. Her fingers wrapped around the chains for balance, legs wobbly, weak, only her last remnants of strength keeping them from giving way. A small laugh escaped her. "I knew you had it in you."

You smiled. "Of course you did."

CRACK!

Another scream ripped from her. Loud. Piercing. Delicious. You could listen to it for days on end, and never get tired of its sharp, pain-infused perfection.

"That's my girl," Rowena said softly, and you had to grin, proud of your accomplishments.

CRACK!

CRACK!

There was a time when you would be scared to keep going, but you knew better now. If she wanted you to stop, she would have said so. One word — one teeny-tiny word — and it would all be over.

She didn't want it to be over. Not by a longshot.

And neither did you.

In fact, you were just getting started.

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