#please remember to send the letters guys

[chickpea0]

Everyone put your most out of left field regression headcanon 3 2 1 GO!

[strawhbrrries]

Movement

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: a double date that leads to mike schmidt coming home with you in the name of "helping your friend" and he ends up fucking you.

warnings: unprotected sex, no foreplay, creampie??, female pronouns, slight degrading??, pet names, heavy cussing, mike being hashtag v hot, no established relationship, porn with no plot, not proofread

word count: 2.1k words

author’s note: listen to movement by hozier for the full experience!!! I know this fic wasn't voted to be the first mike one to be posted but I had to do it okay!!!! he's so hot n sexy in this and i need him badly...please enjoy! mwah!

Your eyes scanned the restaurant in front of your car, you were promised a very nice dinner with a very nice man and the place you ended up might as well have been a denny’s. Gia somehow managed to rope you into a double date and as the amazing friend you are, you obliged. Now, you wanted to take it back. If the guy you were set up with wasn’t just an absolute heartthrob you might consider strangling her in the bathroom.

“Gia, this better be the best damn food and the hottest men you have ever experienced or I’m never doing you another favor ever again.” You teased, getting out of your car as she walked up to it.

“I swear he said this place was nicer! Thank you so much babes, I owe you one!” She responded, slipping her arm inside of yours to walk inside. “Maybe the inside is really nice and it’s just a shady exterior.”

You’d never seen the man Gia was seeing tonight so when the two of you arrived at the table you weren’t sure which man was yours, but you knew which one you wanted. He looked gentle, shaggy hair untamed almost like he wasn’t prepared to go on a date tonight. 

“I suppose I’m your date.” He smiled softly, getting up to pull your chair out for you. “I’m MIke, you look uh, really beautiful tonight.”

After the introductions and small talk the two of you hit it off right away, it helped that Gia and her date were more interested in each other than remembering that the people they brought also existed.  The more you talked the more Mike came out of his shell, he wasn’t as shy as you first pegged him to be. Your heel was slowly caressing his calf, neither of you were quite sure when it had ended up there but he wasn’t complaining.

“A man in uniform is hot.” Your flirting was a little rusty, but it seemed to be working just fine for you.

“It’s just a security gig.” He shrugged it off, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. 

You grabbed the straw of your drink, wrapped your tongue around it, and took a sip. Mike choked slightly but covered it up with a cough, adjusting his pants under the table at the same time. 

“She’s not going to go home with him unless I go home with you.” You whispered in his ear as you leaned over the table, tangling your fingers in his hair to trick Gia into thinking you were whispering something dirty. “I’d really like to go home with you.”

You could feel the heat creep up his neck, his face was flushed. His heart might as well be on the outside of his chest with the intensity that it was beating, it’d been a long time since he’d been on a date or even gotten laid but Abby was at home and that just wouldn’t work.

“Uhm, my sister’s at home, can we go to your place?” Mike’s saliva was thick and pooling in his mouth, it felt almost impossible to swallow. He had to be dreaming, this just didn’t make sense otherwise. He was just doing his friend a favor and now your breath was hot on his neck and his jeans were uncomfortably tight.

The second the two of you walked outside he got fidgety, like he was going to take off the second you let go of his hand. Frankly he was surprised you hadn’t let go of it the second you picked it up, he was dripping sweat from the moment he realized you were his date. He quickly made a mental note to send a letter to the company who made his preferred deodorant, the fact that he didn’t smell absolutely putrid spoke volumes on their product.

“So did you mean what you said inside? Because I’m perfectly okay with just going home.” 

“I meant it, don’t be so nervous.” You smiled back at him, handing him the keys to your car.

The tension was thick, his knuckles were white as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead and making it back to your place safely and not the fingers drawing figures on his thigh as you spoke about something he couldn’t quite grasp. 

Your place wasn’t too far from the restaurant that Gia’s date had picked, that Mike was thankful for. The longer he had to endure the torture that was your fingers on this thighs, the less his ability to be a gentleman and control himself existed. If it was up to him, he’d probably just pulled over and fucked you in the backseat of your own car but it wasn’t. He was a gentleman, he’d just met you all of a few hours ago, he knew better.

“This is the place.” You smiled softly as he pulled into your driveway.

“It’s nice.” He stated, handing your car keys back to you and taking your hand. “Suits you.”

Mike’s eyes wandered the walls, taking in every aspect of you, as you led him through the house. It didn’t take him long to notice that you lived alone, another thing he was now thankful for. His fingers trailed the zipper of your dress as he stood behind you in your bedroom, his other hand rubbing your arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

“Are you going to take it off?” Your voice was shaky and quiet, for the first time tonight you were nervous. 

“And you thought I was the eager one.” He chuckled, tugging your hair back softly to give him just enough access to your face to make eye contact with you. “Do you get off on bringing strangers to your home and having them fuck you?”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, blessing the ears of the man behind you who responded with a groan. His lips made contact with your neck, biting and sucking at any of the skin he had access to. The hand that was holding your hair back made itself busy drawing the zipper of your dress further and further down until it couldn’t go any further, you shivered as the cold air hit your back. 

Mike detached himself from your neck and took a step back, briefly admiring how disheveled you looked despite still being fully dressed, he made a quick motion for you to turn around and you obliged almost immediately. If you got his dick any harder it might’ve fallen off before he ever got the chance to use it. 

He backed you into the bed, laying you down and sliding your dress off and into a pile on the floor. Another deep groan was emitted into the air as he took in the sight in front of him, you hadn’t worn a bra and the underwear you’d chosen left nothing to the imagination. Mike immediately started thanking whatever god was above for you and the experience he was about to have. 

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone tonight but then you saw him and your entire plan was flipped upside down. You lied about your friend not going home with her date if you didn’t leave with him, you didn’t want him to think you were desperate but he knew now. The second he touched the zipper of your dress, anything left of your facade was gone. You needed him.

“If you weren’t so fucking wet I would’ve thought you were only doing me a favor.” He spoke nonchalantly, rubbing his finger over your folds through your underwear. “ Or maybe you’re just a whore? Huh?”

“For you.” You choked out, words getting caught in your throat over his words. 

At the beginning of the night you would’ve placed money on the fact that he wasn’t capable of things like this, it was like another side of him had come out during the drive to your house. You weren’t complaining, his words were getting to you in a way you’d never experienced. 

“Yeah? For me? Mikey’s own personal whore.” He slipped your underwear to the side and slid his finger through your folds, collecting your juices and bringing them to his mouth. “You’re as sweet as you look, need a honey jar full of you.”

You cried out at him softly, trying to use anything you had to stop his teasing. He was winding you up but edging you right before you could pop, he could’ve said anything and you would’ve agreed just to get him to fuck you. Being this desperate for a man you hardly knew was an exhilarating experience. 

“Please, I need you.” You whined, grabbing at his shirt in a desperate plea. “Please.”

“Good job using your words, pretty girl.” Mike praised, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down, throwing them in the same pile as your dress.

His clothes soon joined yours on the floor, a small pout emerging when you realized you wouldn’t be able to suck him off, his eyes catching yours as he climbed up your body. He kissed his way up, biting occasionally. Fingers tracing your skin just as you had done to him earlier in the night, lighting a fire on your skin as they went. It was like his body was made to fit yours, like your souls had searched for each other through every lifetime and yet this was the first time they had met.

His lips finally met yours for the first time, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away to breathily whisper something in your ear. You shook your head in agreement at whatever he said, as long as he kept touching you like that and making noises in your ear you’d agree to anything he said to you. 

Shaking your head yes was the best decision you’d made so far, you felt two fingers slip inside of you. Thrusting for a few moments before they were replaced by the tip of his cock, slowly pushing in as his mouth found one of your nipples. The gentle man you had once perceived had been replaced by a god who was hung like a horse, splitting you in half with the cock fit for a god.

“Fuck.” Mike moaned, tipping his head back when he bottomed out, taking your legs and placing them on his shoulders. “So good, pretty girl.”

Anything you had planned on responding with quickly dissipated the second he pulled out and thrusted back in, a low groan coming out insead. His fingers were digging into your thighs as he held them up where he wanted them, all you could hope for was the imprints bruising as a reminder that this actually happened. What hair that wasn’t sticking to his skin from the sweat covering it was dangling backwards freely, all his focus was on not cumming too soon and if he continued to look at you he definitely would.

Your eyes had glossed over a long time ago, tears streaming down the sides as a byproduct of the blissful state his cock had put you in, fingers gripping desperately at the sheets and your tits bouncing with each thrust. He was once again praying to every god that he would get to do this another time, then he could sear the image of you under him into his mind.

“Mike, Mikey I need..” You whined, the knot in your stomach twisting and turning, threatening to spill before you could even finish a coherent thought.

“C’mon pretty girl, you can do it, let it go.” He praised you, bringing his thumb down to your clit and drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts to help your orgasm spill over.

His words were the final piece in the puzzle, your orgasm hitting you soon after he spoke. Legs shaking, mind blowing, tears, and silent moans was all your body could do at the supernova your orgasm had proved to be. You’d never cum this hard before but if every orgasm after didn’t measure up, he had ruined you. 

“You did so good.” Was all you heard as you came down from your high, Mike’s hands soothed down your hair as he whispered into your ear. 

His thrusts continued at the same pace for only a few seconds before his hips stuttered and he painted your insides white. 

“I guess tonight wasn’t a total waste.” You joked quietly, turning to the side to smile at him as he laid down next to you. 

“We need to do this more often.”

[rafesangelita]

rafe + predator/prey with bambi?

warnings: dark!rafe (he’s nice at first), bratty behavior, dom/sub themes, slight arguing, shouting, manhandling, fear play, rafe chases you around tanneyhill, hide and seek, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, overstimulation, slapping, impact play (?), asphyxiation, lots of dirty talk, squirting, size kink, breeding kink, baby trapping threats, degradation

link: read more of bambi!reader here <3

w/c: 2.2k

rafe knew the second you slammed the door shut in his face that you had forgotten your place. all the soft, sappy sex you two had been indulging in had officially altered your brain chemistry into thinking you could lock him out of his room in his own house. “open this door, y/n.” rafe hadn’t raised his voice at you in a long time, and while he didn’t want to, it wasn’t long before he felt his patience running thin as you continued to ignore him and give him the silent treatment. you stood on the other side of the door, a pout gracing your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“i’m trying to sort this out with you, baby, but you’re making that really hard for me right now..” rafe spoke gently, his fists balling up at his sides. “you know.. the last thing i wanna come home to when i’ve had a rough day is an attitude and a temper tantrum.” he attempted to twist the door knob, your heart beating in your ears when it started rattling against the hardwood. “i’ve been so good with you, i think you’ve forgotten just how fast things can change, bambi.” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

of course you didn’t want to be on his bad side, but something about the way his voice dropped a few octaves as if he was giving you a warning made you step closer to the door. “open it or i’ll do it myself.” for a moment there, you almost did as he said, your hand reaching down for the door knob before you heard him whisper something underneath his breath. “fuckin’ brat.” you froze just as your fingers grazed the cold metal. he wasn’t going to like what you did next. taking a step back, you shuddered as you watched the shadow of his feet. “n-no.” you whimpered, your heart beating in your chest.

rafe laughed, his jaw ticking as he felt anger boiling underneath his skin. “what was that? what did you say?” surely he wasn’t hearing right. “i said no, rafe!” you yelled back, running to the corner of his room that was furthest from the door. that did it. rafe said goodbye to any kind of restraint he had left, deciding you were going to learn your lesson about saying that little two-lettered word to him. rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, rafe let out a breath before backing away. “are you near the door?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion at his question. “no—”

before you could say anything else, rafe barged in, knocking the hardwood off of its hinges as your hands shot up to cover your ears. you stared at him doe eyed and terrified, his eyes finding yours as he rolled his shoulders back. “i didn’t want to do that..” he stalked over to you, wrapping a hand around your throat before pressing you against the wall, “why do you have to make me be the bad guy, huh?” you gasped, clasping a palm around his wrist. “please— i’m sorry!” rafe stared you down, his eyes nothing but two black holes as his grip around your throat tightened.

“are you? it seemed like you just wanted to piss me off back there,” he dragged you towards his bed, throwing you down before pinning your elbows to the mattress and slotting himself between your thighs, “that goddamn silent treatment, you know i can’t stand that shit.” his face was centimeters away, his breath fanning your cheek as tears welled in your eyes. “you know what i have to do now, right?” you shook your head, fear bubbling in your chest as you remembered the last time he had to ‘punish’ you. “please! i’ll be good, rafe! ‘don’t want to make you mad anymore..”

closing the distance between you two, rafe kissed you softly, wiping away the stray tear that managed to roll down your cheek. “i’m gonna give you a ten second head start to run, and if you decide to hide instead, you better make sure i don’t fuckin’ find you,” he whispered against your lips, “now, get the fuck outta here.” rafe moved aside, your chest rising and falling as you slipped out of the room, your feet skittering across the floor as you started running away from him. you swore your heart was beating a million times per second, the fear of being caught making your blood run cold.

you had barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before you looked up and saw rafe making his way out of the room. he was far too fast for you to outrun him, panic setting in as you started scouring through the halls of tanneyhill. coincidentally, all of the rooms were locked. rafe must’ve did that when you first mouthed off to him, having known how this night would end. “please, please, please!” you struggled trying to open the door to each room only to fall short when the knobs didn’t even budge. “come on..” you whined, rounding the corner of the hallway.

“you look so pretty when you’re scared.” you spun around on your heels, a half scream leaving your lips as rafe started jogging down the long hallway. running across the kitchen, and into the living room, rafe’s laughter echoed throughout the house as he chased you around the couch. “you’re gonna fuckin’ get it.” as a last resort attempt to throw him off, you grabbed one of the pillows from the sofa and threw it at him so you could run up the stairs. just as he caught it, he tripped over his own feet before you made your way into his study, crawling underneath his desk.

clamping a hand over your mouth, you panted softly through your nose as rafe’s footsteps sounded up the staircase. “so you decided to hide after all, huh?” your heart was slamming against your ribcage as he got closer. “i was really hoping you didn’t do that.” he almost sounded apologetic as he stepped into the room next door. you removed your hand from your mouth, fiddling with the ‘R’ pendant on your necklace. “if i get my hands on you.. god, you might just hate me.” just as it sounded like he walked past the room you were in, your heart dropped to your stomach when the door suddenly opened.

rafe walked around, stopping right in front the desk. “one of my favorite things about you is your perfume. it’s so sweet, it’s almost like you leave a trail behind you everywhere you go..” you didn’t even get to react before he was pulling you out by your feet, your screams echoing in his ears. “you make it so easy, baby, it’s like you wanted to be caught.” he pulled you up by your arms, dragging you out of the study and back to his bedroom. he forced you down on your knees, grabbing ahold of your chin as he fumbled with his belt.

“wanna talk back when i’m being nice to you? fine. i’ll just put your mouth to better use.” he said through gritted teeth. clasping your hands behind your back, you gazed up at him through your eyelashes. “listen to me when i say this, yeah?” he slipped his thumb between your lips, “right now you’re not my pretty little girlfriend, alright? you’re a slut.” your skirt rode up your thighs as you spread your legs, sitting back on your heels while you waited for rafe to stuff your throat full. upon his cock springing out of his pants, you whimpered pathetically at the butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

he stroked himself, a groan leaving his lips as he tapped his hardened cock against your tongue. “open that mouth, baby, you know how i like it.” you licked the tip, wrapping your lips around the throbbing head as he threaded his fingers in your hair. “i work all day, deal with my dad’s shit, fuck— all just to come home to that bratty behavior of yours..” he cursed under his breath as you took him deeper into your mouth. “ungrateful sluts like you deserve to be used like this.” you moaned around his length, your eyes widening when he hit the back of your throat.

“oh, my god,” rafe’s jaw went slack, his head tilting to the side as he watched you take him in and out of those pretty lips of yours. “look at me, give me those eyes.” you pulled away for a moment, gasping for air as you flashed your teary orbs at him. rafe didn’t know the logic behind it, but seeing you cry, so drunk off of his cock, he swore it was the hottest thing he’s ever seen. “holy, fuck!” he smiled down at you, his hips stuttering as you took him inch by glorious inch. “my greedy little cock whore, ‘doing so good for me.” you batted your eyes innocently, the action making him hiss.

“i wish you were good all the time, now i have to hurt you, bambi.” he pulled you up, lifting you off of the ground before slamming you down on the bed. you gasped at the impact, your boyfriend sliding your bottoms off before giving you a light smack across your cheek. “you’re so wet down here, baby. shit, you’re just glistening.” rafe tore your thighs apart, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off as you ran a foot down his toned stomach. he pinned your thighs to your chest, his hands resting on the back of your knees. “you want this?” he ran his cock between your folds.

your eyes fluttered shut, his tip grazing your needy clit. “please give it to me. ‘wanna be good for you again!” you cried, a sob ripping itself from your throat as he thrusted into you without warning. “fuck!” rafe covered your mouth, ripping your top off so he could watch your tits bounce underneath him. the slick sound of your cunt filled the space of rafe’s room, your cheeks heating as you listened to yourself make a mess on his cock. “so fuckin’ tight, you’re pulling me back in,” he groaned, “i might just fill you up, ‘trap you with my baby..” you moaned, unintentionally clenching around him.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he pulled your hair, forcing you to look down at where you two were connected. you moaned, your lips parting as you watched him pull out and slowly slide back in. “this cock looks like it’s splitting you wide open,” he brought a hand down and started rubbing hard circles on your clit, “my pretty little thing.” you cried out, your back arching off of the mattress when you felt the familiar tension building in your core. his hand was damn near the size of your head, your eyes rolling back as his cock kissed your cervix with every thrust. “gonna.. oh, my god!”

rafe groaned when your orgasm hit you, a piercing scream leaving your lips as a stream of wetness soaked his lower abdomen. you laid there shaking, your nails raking down rafe’s chest as you sucked him in impossibly tighter. taking his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe didn’t slow down the work on your sensitive bundle of nerves, overstimulation setting in when you started taking the pleasure with the pain. “no more!” you gasped, your thighs closing around his waist as you attempted to squirm away from his touch. he slapped you across your cheek, forcing you to keep your eyes open.

“you’re gonna fuckin’ take it. this is what you wanted when you decided to act the way you were acting earlier, huh? shut the fuck up and take this cock.” he shoved your head into the pillows, the entirety of his palm covering your face as he chased his own high, ignoring your screams and cries. rafe watched the tears flow down your cheeks, his fingers becoming wet as he groaned at the sight. “keep crying for me and i’m gonna breed this fuckin’ cunt— ah fuckkk!” rafe leaned down, pressing wet kisses to your neck before his hips stuttered, his mouth falling open in a silent moan.

“fuckin’ hell!” he uncovered your face, admiring the pretty curve of your lips while he came, those gorgeous eyes just twinkling up at him while he filled you to the brim with his seed. rafe nestled himself deep inside of you, stilling his movements as you two reveled in the feeling of his cum painting the softness of your walls. looking into his eyes, you could see the exact moment he switched into being your boyfriend again, his gaze softening as he cupped your face, his cock still twitching inside of you. pulling out with a curse, rafe was quick to pull you against his chest.

“you okay, bambi?” he pecked your cheek, rubbing a hand against your side as you blinked, still unable to form thoughts as your body occasionally jolted with the aftershocks of your orgasm. you didn’t answer, instead you snuggled into his skin, your eyes shutting as sleep pulled at your lids. you were going to be so sore tomorrow, your muscles already aching as rafe pulled the comforter over the two of you.

[felassan]

Letters from Lovers

Transcriptions of the letters from the various gear store items. under cut for length.

Isabela:

“My dear Hawke, Do you know anyone with a flock of parrots? I'm trying to cheat on a bet with Varric and the stakes are exceedingly high. If you help me, I shall take you to that breathtaking beach you so crave. Free of ancient horrors, too. I think. I'd hate to take respite from all my adventures, but there are other ways to make the heart flutter. In fact I'm already imagining a few. Aren't you? Sailing there can be fatal, but Admiral Isabela will keep you safe. Are you interested? I would love to see you again. Yours, Isabela”

Morrigan:

“My love, Now before that grin reaches your ears, perish the thought that this letter was my idea. 'Tis Kieran who would not give me peace until I wrote to ask how you are faring. Regale us, if you please, with another of your tales that I might read to him in bed. He is particularly fond of those wherein you spur mischief whilst you save the day. Thank you for your most delightful gifts. I shall make certain to wear them the next time you come home. Dream of me until then, my Hero of Ferelden, and have a care. Morrigan”

Dorian:

“My dearest Amatus, Home is ever as it was: a glittering whirl of dancing, politics, and murder. I'm used to people staring daggers at me - I quite relish it, actually - but the glares seem to possess a new intensity since my return to Tevinter. Do they disapprove of House Pavus freeing its slaves while I work in the Magisterium to end slavery across Tevinter? Perhaps they simply covet my cheekbones, and who could blame them? Real reform will take time, but we're making inroads. I miss you terribly, Amatus, perhaps almost as much as you miss me. I treasure you and your belief in my work here. Yours always, Dorian P.S. I wouldn't take it amiss if you might send me another barrel of that dreadful Fereldan beer?”

Alistair:

“My love, How are you? Is it true that you recently killed darkspawn with only a mean glare and a pointy stick? Ferelden is ablaze with this rumor! You do give people so much hope. Tales of your heroism never fail to astonish me and almost ease the pain of going to sleep without you by my side. Almost. I can't wait to be with you again. I'd bring you some roses, you could give me a tour of the keep, we'd drink with the new recruits and then cuddle in a tent. Without the new recruits! Tent time is just for the two of us. I want to make that clear. Now excuse me while I practice my death glare and rummage through the dog's stash of sticks. I love you. Yours forever, Alistair.”

The Iron Bull:

“Kadan, You won’t believe what I did today. I got a guy to flip! Twice! So yes, all is well. Except for all the demons. And this whole thing in which I’m far away from the love of my life. Really keeps me up at night. Anyway, you hearing these rumors of a dragon on the loose? Yeah! The boys and I are on its trail. Last I heard, it was flying toward the Frostback Mountains. Can you join us? I hope you’re not uh… all tied up. Don’t worry, I’m fairly certain it’s not a Ben-Hassrath trap. And if it is, you know I’m prepared. Ataash varin kata! I love you, Kadan. See you soon. The Iron Bull.”

Tali:

“By the way, I left something for you up in your cabin. Go have a look.” - Tali’Zorah  --- “Dear Shepard,   As you may remember, I presented this picture frame to you as a gift on the Normandy. It was my way of expressing my admiration for you and our bond as comrades-in-arms. On the back of the metal frame, I've emblazoned a promise that will never fade - 'Shepard, wherever you go, I'm with you.'  I know it's not much, but...this is what I look like under the mask. I'm sorry if it's not what you were expecting. I know Quarian faces can be a bit...different. Every time you look at my picture, I hope you will be reminded of our adventures on the Normandy, from our battles against the Reapers to our intimate conversations in the privacy of our quarters.    I am not one to express my emotions openly, but thank you for being my friend, my confidante, and my inspiration. I look forward to many more adventures together.  Keelah se’lai,   Tali’Zorah”

Another letter from Tali:

"Whatever the galaxy throws at us, I'll be at your side. - Tali" --- "Shepard It's been a while since I last struggled to sleep. You must be dreaming of falling through a fish tank or starring in a hanar vid? I can hear you muttering about jellyfish. It's funny. I've spent my whole life hoping for the future, but these days nothing scares me more. Keelah, why can't we stop time? Even for just a little bit? No war, no Reapers, nobody counting on us. Just you and me, as free as the dust in the solar wind. When this is all over, will you settle down on Rannoch with me? I love you. - Tali"

Bonus:

Shepard's N7 acceptance letter, from Anderson:

“N7 Congratulations on your graduation From Captain David Anderson Shepard, When I graduated from the N7 program I had the honor of meeting Admiral Grissom, the man who inspired me to pursue a career in the service, and I never thought I’d feel prouder in my life. I was mistaken. Don’t get me wrong, it was a big day. An important day. But there’s something about welcoming driven young people like yourself into the ranks that’s also pretty damn satisfying. Your distinguished service record may have gotten you into this program - but it was your courage, integrity, and tenacity that’s enabled you to join an elite few. You represent the best of humanity, and I feel certain you’ll make the galaxy a better place. And I’m not the only one who feels this way. Becoming an N7 means the entire Systems Alliance is telling you one thing - we believe in you. Let me end by saying this. Welcome to the team Shepard. We know you won’t let us down. David Anderson Systems Alliance Interplanetary Combatives Academy N7 N7 Acceptance Letter”

[eternalbuckley]

Old letters and cheesy nicknames. — mattheo riddle

SUMMARY: Mattheo finds old letters you've sent to him over the years and remembers how they cherished him up through tough times. You find him on your bed and end up cuddling after teasing him with a nickname you used to tease him with when you were younger.

word count: 1,662

genre: fluff | no specified reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings/tropes: it's quite cheesy i think, it's mentioned that reader has parents and that they decorated a christmas tree, english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if I forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: i don't know how to feel about this but i needed to write some fluff for mattheo. i hope you enjoy it reading <3 reblogs, feedback and comments are highly appreciated and welcomed! ♡

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. i don’t give you my permission to use my writing for any ai related things, don’t do it. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know!

golden divider by saradika-graphics

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Mattheo knelt on the wooden floor of your shared bedroom and went through an old box that was hidden in your closet. A chuckle left his lips as he found the letters he had kept over the years, some of them included different pictures of you or anything you wanted to share with him. He slowly got up and took the box with him; the floor creaked as he walked over to your bed. He sat down on the mattress, which slightly dipped because of his body. He turned on the lamp that was on his nightstand and opened the first envelope. A smile made its way to his lips as he started reading the first lines, it was a letter you sent him years ago when you were in your early years of being friends, back when you two were still students at Hogwarts and used to call him with those weird and cheesy nicknames, only to tease him. He used to pretend to hate them, but he secretly enjoyed every moment you came up with a new one. He cherished them, and combined with your playful and dramatic side? It made everything better for him within seconds.

“Hello, my dearest cutie pie,

how are you doing on this fine, sweet day? I just ate waaaay too many muffins. My mother made those moist muffins I told you about a few weeks ago, and they were sooo good. I wish you could smell and get a taste of them, but I may have eaten all of them already. :p I couldn’t resist them, don’t blame me.

We just decorated the Christmas tree. I even hung up the ornament you gifted me before we left. My parents love it (they really do!!!), so you know, it will be a part of the tree every year from now on. Oh, and they’d love to meet the guy I’ve told them about, maybe it can happen someday? Unless you can’t deal with my wonderful magical being anymore. That would be fine. (I would kick your ass ♡)

How are your holidays so far? Are your parents having a better time this year, or is it not going so well… I hope it’s the first option. As soon as we’re back in school, I’ll hug you anyway, even if you don’t want to.

I’m sending you much love, my cutie pie. I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.

Your sexy best friend :p”

It was one of many letters you’ve sent to Mattheo, most of the times you wrote to him were about updating him about your life during each holiday and how much you missed him, trying to cheer him up with each written word. Sometimes, you sent him a letter while you were in school, especially when you noticed that he wasn’t having a good day – you wanted to cheer him up.

Back then, you were just friends. Best friends if you want to be clearer. The bond between you became stronger over the years, some of your friends were surprised that you’d voluntarily spend time with the former Slytherin boy. Given his reputation, some people used to stay as far away from him as possible – you used to do the same in your first two years in school. Your friendship started in quietly acknowledging each other whenever you passed ways in the halls or saw him in the library. Somewhere, he was barely seen until you two started hanging out more. You often spent your afternoons with him, sometimes in Hogsmeade, sometimes in the library or outside.

Something you’ve noticed over time was that he wasn’t like the guy everyone told you or talked about in the halls of Hogwarts. Sure, there were reasons why he had his reputation, but Mattheo was acting differently in your presence. The more time you spent with each other and the more you grew closer, the more he let his walls down and opened up to you. Talking with you about his family and what it was like living with them – that it wasn’t the easiest time most of the days. You never judged him for the way he was and appreciated him even more after he told you all these things and trusted you enough to open up to you. You started to care for him and appreciate every time he was talking about the things he had on his heart and mind.

It wasn’t easy for him; he was scared that you’d find something one day that would make you hate him, but this day never came. Even today, he finds himself being worried that you might leave him. Especially if he fucked something up and you had an argument about it, he was scared. But unless he deeply hurts you, you’d never leave him. You couldn’t. You loved him too much for you to end up leaving him out of nowhere.

He opened another letter, and his smile grew, it was a letter you sent him after your graduation. It was a time when both of you had realised for a while that you had feelings for the other one but were too afraid to admit them.

“To my dearest friend Mattheo,

whom I will cherish for the rest of my life and who’ll never get rid of me.

I’m sitting in my bedroom right now, and it’s weird living alone now. I still haven’t unpacked most of my boxes, and I honestly don’t know where to fucking start. It’s weird to think about living alone now… After having shared my dorm with other students and knowing that there was always someone nearby. You weren’t alone, but now? I barely know anyone here where I live, only Hermione and Ron. Hopefully, Theo and Enzo are treating you well from now on. They better are, or else….. I’ll find something to threaten them.

Have I told you that I have an elderly lady living next to my flat? She seems nice, and kind of reminds me of Professor McGonagall in some ways. She always bakes me something and leaves it in front of my door. I think I’ll make her a gift to thank her. But other than that, I barely know anyone here. :(

I wish you could live here, so we could spend time together. Even if you think this place wouldn’t fit you, I know it would. You’ll see when you visit me!! :p

I miss you,

your smartest and hottest best friend. xx

PS.: Let me know when you plan to visit me so I can ask my mum to bake you those muffins you and I love. “

“Babe?” you called out for him as you sat on the couch in your living room. Too lazy to stand up, but you huffed and got up from your comfortable seat because Mattheo didn’t reply.

You set your book on the coffee table and walked into your bedroom. You found your boyfriend sitting on your bed with a letter in his hands. Your lips curved up into a smile as you noticed his smile and that he was rereading one of your letters.

“Oh my god, you still have them?” You chuckled and leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom, watching him with a fond expression. You didn’t know that he kept your letters, but it made you even happier that he kept them all over the years.

Mattheo hummed happily and looked up to you, “I kept each of them.” He spoke softly and patted the place next to him, moving the box with the letters aside as you sat down next to him cross-legged.

You laughed quietly as you read the letter about the Christmas tree and the muffins. Nostalgia and memories flooded your mind as you finished reading the letter. “I forgot I used to call you cutie pie,” your voice was filled with affection as you reread the first line.

He couldn’t help but chuckle and showed you a few other letters, each of them addressed with a different cheesy nickname. “Back then, I wanted to hate you for them,” he admitted, his voice filled with amusement, but even as he spoke, you both knew that he wasn’t telling the truth.

You grinned and lifted your head to look at him, “You secretly loved them, be honest,” you teased him and watched him as he rolled his eyes playfully, which earned him a hit on his chest and ended in a shared laughter. “You never told me that you kept them.”

He slowly nodded, “I did. Whenever I got them, I was happy for a moment, especially if times weren’t….” He paused for a moment and inhaled, “When times weren’t so great at home. Your letters made me feel better, even the few ones you sent to me during school.” He put the letter he was holding back into its envelope and put the box on the nightstand.

With a quick move, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him. He let himself fall back against the mattress, and you ended up facing each other while lying on your sides. A giggle left your lips, which caused him to smile. You moved your arms around his neck and left small featherlight kisses on his cheeks, his lips and the tip of his nose. A soft hum left his lips as he melted into you even more with each kiss.

“I love you so much,” he whispered and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. You returned his kiss and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. You gently traced his neck with your fingertips and slowly pulled away from him, “I love you more, my dearest cutie pie,” you grinned teasingly and yelped as he turned you over and hovered over you. “You’re the best that happened to me in my life,” he whispered and kissed you again.

[arc-misadventures]

I know it's a day early but I have to put it out now

Friends AU: After team RWBY throws a big Halloween/Birthday Party that involves all of Atlas and part of Mantle, how does the gang react to finding out Jaune never went to the party because he never got an invite even though Team RWBY all swear they invited him?

One Invitation Short

Ruby: WHOOO!

Ruby: It's my birthday~!

Nora: Let's fucking party!

Yang: Happy birthday sis!

Blake: Halloween birthday party! WHOO!

Ren: Happy birthday, Ruby.

Weiss: Congratulations, Ruby.

Penny: This is my first friends birthday party I've ever attended.

Oscar: Mine too.

Yang: Then we'll have to make sure this is one hell of a party!

Ren: But, not too big of a party. The janitorial staff haven't been looking at us kindly since the soda bottle rocket incident...

Weiss: Hey don't look at me like that. That was totally their fault!

Nora: Hey, it was an accident!

Weiss: You got pink soda all over me!

Ruby: We said we were sorry!

Weiss: My clothes are still in the drycleaners getting all the pink out of my clothes!

Yang: I have some photos of her all drenched in cream soda, wanna see?

Blake: Oh please!

Weiss: Noooo!

Blake: HA! Oh you look like a princess from a kids book in a pink dress!

Yang: Pfft! Oh shit, she does!

Weiss: guys?!

Ruby: Don't worry, Weiss, you'll always be beautiful even in pink!

Weiss: Shut up...

Nora: Don't be a downer guys! Let's eat some cake, and celebrate!

Yang: Yeah! I want some cake!

Oscar: What kind of cake is it?

Ren: Cookies, and cream.

Oscar: I've never had that before.

Weiss: Me either, it sounds nice.

Yang: Alright everyone around the table so we can sing happy birthday, and eat the cake.

Nora: Cake!

Blake: Okay.

Ruby: I'm so excited.

Yang: Okay, birthday girl is in the main seat... Penny... Weiss, Blake... Nora, and Ren... Oscar, and Penny have a seat. And, we're just waiting on you, Ja...?

Yang: ...?

Yang: Wait...? Where's, Jaune?

Weiss: He's here... right?

Nora: Y-You guys invited him... right?

Yang: Well... I was going to tell him, but I got dragged away on a mission, so I asked, Blake to do it.

Blake: I remember, Yang asked me to tell him. And, I was going to tell him! but, then I saw that there was this sushi restaurant... and, I haven't had sushi in so long... A-And, I heard, Mantle sushi is really well know for how good it is... and... s-sushi...

Yang: Uhh, Blake...? Blake? (Snap, Snap, Snap!) Hey, stay with us!

Blake: Sorry! I went to the sushi restaurant, and I sent a message to, Weiss to have her tell him instead.

Weiss: I remember that call; I was going to complain to, Blake about dumping her responsibility on me. But, she sounded like a junkie needing her fix when she was talking about that sushi restaurant.

Yang: That...! That sounds true...

Ruby: Yeah, she enters this weird trance when it comes to sushi...

Nora: It rather scary really...

Weiss: Well I decided to tell, Jaune so, Blake could get her... fix... And, I was about to tell him...! And, then the soda bottle incident happened...?!

Nora: Sorry...

Weiss: And, you all know what happened... So, while I went to get changed, and have a shower. So I asked, Ruby to do instead.

Ruby: And, I did!

Nora: If you did, then why isn't, Jaune here?

Ruby: I don't know?! I went to him during dinner, we chatted about out missions, and then I handed him this handmade invitation letter!

Weiss: A handmade invitation?

Ruby: Yes!

Weiss: That same letter that's in your hands, right now...?

Ruby: Ya, this the same lett...?!

Ruby: Oh...?

Ruby: Oh shoot...

Nora: So... you all weren't able to tell, Jaune about the party because you were distracted by one thing, or another... And, when you finally got to him, you didn't hand him the invitation?!

Ruby: Sorry...

Yang: I got called away...

Blake Sushiiiiiiiii~!

Weiss: I'm not apologizing...

Nora: Ohh... Penny?!

Penny: Yes, Friend Nora?

Nora: D-Did you send, Jaune a message?

Penny: Let me check.

Penny: ...

Penny: I do not have, Jaune Arc in my list of contacts...? Odd... I must preform a self-diagnostic...

Penny: Scanning...

Penny: System corruption located... Fixing.

Penny: Fixed! The contact information of one, Jaune Arc has been found!

Penny: I shall contact him, and hopefully, Friend Jaune will come join us soon!

Nora: Awesome!

Weiss: Oh thank goodness, hopefully, Jaune will join us soon.

Yang: Yes, it wouldn't be a party without my best blond pal!

Ruby: Hopefully he will come here soon, and we can continue the party, and...

Penny: What...?!

Yang: Is... is something wrong, Penny?

Penny: Jaune just replied to my invitation... He said, 'No thank you...'

Nora: What?!

Ruby: Jaune... rejected the invitation... to... to my birthday party...?

Penny: I'm afraid so...

Ruby: But... why...?

Penny: I... I don't know...

Ruby: But...?!

Penny: I'm sorry, Ruby.

Ruby: ...

Ruby: I see...

Ren: We did it again... we failed our friend...

Nora: What are you talking about, Ren...? We're not, Jaune's friend... We never were...

RWBYNPRP: ...

Ruby: ...

Ruby: FUCK!!!

~~~

Winter: Who was that?

Jaune: No one important... Sorry about that interruption, Sir.

Ironwood: That's alright, Mr. Arc. Now then, tell me what is it that you wanted to talk about?

Jaune: Winter made me an offer the other day, and I wanted to know, what would my duties be if I accepted her offer, and became, a Specialist.

[bunsiesblog]

My Promise to You

s!1 Viktor x Showgirl!reader

A letter Viktor writes to his childhood friend and first love. A reminder that he has not forgotten his promise to save you. It sits unopened in your Madame’s safe, along with the other dozens of letters he sent to you these past seven years.

tags: childhood friends to lovers, love letter, minimal use of Y/N, affectionate czech name, ‘letters? what letters?’ trope, inspired by the Notebook, yearning, Viktor is actually king of yearning,

468 words

A/N: I am currently drafting up a fanfic that is written as letters between you and Viktor. The premise is that he moved to Piltover and you stayed in Zaun as a showgirl at a less than reputable establishment. He promised to take you away and everything he has done has been to come through on that promise. The gag is that the Madame of your club has been withholding the letters you guys write to each other.

I’m just such a big fan of a man who does literally the most for his girl, except you aren’t really his girl you’re his best friend which makes it all 10x more romantic to me. Anyways, here is one of the letters below that I just wanted to share with you all

➽───────────────❥

My dearest Y/N,

It feels strange to write to you again, knowing I might not receive a reply. And yet, I can’t stop myself. Writing to you feels like the only way to keep you close, even when the distance between us seems unbearable. I don’t know if these letters are reaching you, or if you’re reading them, but I hope, somehow, that you can feel the words I send.

It’s been years since I left Zaun, and I can’t help but wonder how much you’ve changed. I imagine you’re as radiant as ever, your spirit as unyielding as the city that raised us. Do you still find the hidden corners of the world to call your own? Do you still climb rooftops to breathe above the chaos below? I often find myself thinking of those times—how simple it all felt, even though it was anything but.

I want you to know that I’ve never stopped working to keep my promise to you. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve built here in Piltover, has been with that promise in mind. I graduated, Lásko. Top of my class. I’ve even taken a position at the Academy, assisting the Dean. And now… now there’s something new.

It’s called Hextech. A project I’ve been working on with my colleague, Jayce. We’ve discovered a way to harness the arcane and shape it into something tangible—something that can help people. I believe this could be my breakthrough. Our breakthrough. With Hextech, I’ll finally have the means to do what I’ve always wanted: to build a life, a future, where you don’t have to endure the chains that bind you.

I know it’s taken too long. I know I’ve failed you in so many ways. But I need you to know that I haven’t forgotten. I think about you every day, wonder if you’re okay, if you’re happy—or at least as happy as one can be in a place like Kitty’s. I still remember the look in your eyes the last time I saw you, the way you told me not to worry about you.

But I can’t help it, Lásko. I can’t stop worrying.

I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re surrounded by people who remind you of your worth, who see you for who you are—brilliant, kind, and stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. But if you’re not, then please, just hold on a little longer. I’m getting closer. I can feel it.

When the time comes, when I have everything I need, I’ll come back for you. I don’t care how long it takes or what I have to do. You once told me that I was meant for something greater, but you’ve always been my reason for striving.

You once saved me. Now it’s my turn.

Yours always,

Viktor

[amirasainz]

Hi literally get so excited when you update! Can you write one where charles x alexandra x reader where charles and alex are away for an event and forget that it's the reader birthday ans only remember when someone tells them birthday it and they try and make it up to her.

Hi loves. I hope you enjoy this little piece. Let me know what you think. Comments are always apreciated!I'm sorry,but the Sydney Sweeny picture was perfect, so I had to include it😉

Also, question (and please answer me that in the comments), does anyone read what I write before the story? Like the little message here? I'm just curious❤️

Enjoy reading and send me requests!!❤️

-XoXo

The Birthday disaster

You couldn’t believe it. They weren’t here. They didn’t call, text, or even send you a freaking letter. Your own boyfriend and girlfriend forgot your birthday. And not just any birthday, it was your 21 birthday. Instead of celebrating with Alex, Charles, and all of your friends in a vibrant club, you were sitting on the balcony of your apartment. Despite the cold wind hitting your bare skin mercilessly, thanks to the cute short dress you wore today, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk back inside.

Of course, your friends tried to get you to come out with them to celebrate your birthday properly. But it just hurt too much, and to be honest, your mind was too tired and sad for any kind of festivity.

When Charles and Alex first informed you about the event hosted by one of Alex’s friends, they eagerly asked you to join them. Unfortunately, your job didn’t allow you to tag along, which both of them understood. However, they promised you that they would return today at around 5 o���clock. To be honest, you thought they had something special planned for your birthday. But last night, at around 11 pm, you received a text from Alex, informing you that they would be staying longer in Venice, where the event was held.

At first, you thought this was some kind of joke. Maybe they wanted you to think that they weren’t able to celebrate with you, only to surprise you with a birthday party. But sadly, when you woke up this morning, nothing happened. Throughout the day, there was complete silence between you and them.

Your group of friends, who had been with you a few hours ago to at least celebrate your birthday a little bit, tried to convince you to go out and party with them. Before you could agree, you got a notification from Instagram. You were tagged quite often in a post showing Alex and Charles at the event. They looked so happy and carefree, making you feel even more numb.

Despite their best efforts, your friends left after half an hour, after you reassured them with phrases like “Yes, I will take care of myself,” “Yes, I will call you if I need anything,” and “No, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m completely fine.” They knew you were anything but fine; however, they also knew that you needed to be alone right now.

So here you are, sitting alone in the cold with your only companions being the vodka bottle you brought with you and the relentless wind hitting your skin. “Happy fucking 21st birthday to me, I guess,” you muttered to yourself, staring out at the sea.

“Oh my god, Lisa. You truly outdid yourself,” complimented Alex, her friend. And it was true. The event was filled with beautiful flowers and lights, giving the room a fairy-like appearance. The soft glow of the lights reflected off the petals, creating a magical ambiance that made everyone feel like they had stepped into an enchanted garden. Charles, who stood next to his girlfriend, only brought her closer to him and said, “Yeah, I have to agree. I’m 100% sure YN would have loved it.” “You are so right, love. I wish she was here with us,” agreed Alex, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Wait, I’m confused. So there is nothing wrong between you guys and YN?” asked Lisa, her brow furrowed in confusion. Alex and Charles shared a look with each other, both of them equally puzzled. “No, why would there be anything wrong with us?” Alex replied, her tone defensive. “Oh, I just thought you had a fight and this is the reason why you are here and not with YN today. But I must have been wrong…” Linda’s voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She shared a look with her partner Mary, both of them realizing the gravity of the situation.

“Wait, stop. Pause. Why would we be with YN tonight? You invited us to your event and we are here. I don’t get what’s going on right now,” said Alex, her frustration mounting. It felt like Mary and Lisa knew something she and Charles didn’t. Mary, who was now also becoming more annoyed with how the two of them acted before them, didn’t take any nonsense from Alex.

Without hesitation, she looked straight into Alex’s eyes and told her with an ice-cold voice, “Well, we weren’t expecting you to show up today because we thought that you would be busy celebrating YN’s 21 birthday today. But from the looks of it, it seems like you forgot your own girlfriend’s birthday. So don’t talk to us with that rude tone of yours. At least we remember each other’s birthdays.” With that, Mary took Lisa by the hand and left, leaving Alex and Charles standing there in stunned silence.

Alex and Charles were left behind, both staring at the space where the couple used to be a few seconds ago. Both of them felt a wave of guilt and shame wash over them. How could they forget their own girlfriend’s birthday? Turning on their phones, they saw the flood of messages they had received from not only their fans but also their friends, YN’s friends, and their families. Each message was a painful reminder of their oversight.

“We messed up so badly,” muttered Charles, looking at Alex with a pained expression. The woman could only nod, still speechless. Charles took her arm and gently but firmly led her out of the room. “We have to go to her. ASAP,” Alex told Charles, who was already a step ahead of her and had their jackets in hand. With that, the couple left the event, both feeling a deep sense of remorse. How could they forget their girl’s birthday?

As they hurried to their car, Alex’s mind raced with thoughts of how to make it up to YN. She knew it would take more than just an apology to mend the hurt they had caused. Charles, too, was lost in his thoughts, thinking of ways to show YN how much she meant to them. They both knew that they had a lot of making up to do, but they were determined to do whatever it took to make things right.

At around 1 am, the couple finally arrived home. The ride back had been silent, the air in the car feeling oppressively thick, making it hard to breathe. They parked their car in the garage and, without hesitation, jumped out of the vehicle, racing towards the elevator. The few minutes it took to reach their front door felt like an eternity, each second stretching painfully.

When they entered the apartment, everything was shrouded in darkness. A figure sat on the balcony, barely visible in the dim light. Charles immediately sat next to YN, while Alex kneeled in front of her. YN didn’t even look at them before taking a gulp from the nearly empty bottle of vodka. “Hey love, I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” whispered Charles, gently trying to take the bottle away from the now 21-year-old girl.

YN shook her head, her voice trembling as she reminded them, “No. NO, you do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do. Not after you forgot about me.” “Baby, we didn’t forget about you,” Alex tried, her eyes already filling with tears. YN only laughed, her own tears streaming down her face. “No, Alexandra. You do not get to tell me that after you forgot my birthday, and you certainly don’t get to cry.” “Ok, let’s all calm down,” Charles attempted again, his voice soothing but firm.

“No Charles! I don’t want to calm down. You both forgot about me. You two promised me that something like this would never happen to us. You promised me that you would always love me. You promised me that the age gap didn’t bother you when we started dating when I was 19. But look at us. You already broke one of your promises. How can I be sure that you won’t break another one?” With that, YN broke down in tears. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, her head held in her hands.

Charles and Alex immediately moved to comfort her. “YN, breath. We are so freaking sorry. I guarantee you, we didn’t mean for something like this to happen. We were all so busy with our jobs and social lives that we didn’t mean to forget something so important,” Charles began, his voice filled with regret.

Alex took YN’s head into her hands, gently wiping away her tears. “We love you more than anything in this world. You are our air and our heart. And we will apologize for the rest of our lives if we have to,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. YN only whispered, “I love you guys too.” Alex didn't hesitate before kissing her girlfriend. after a moment the they pulled apart.

Charles turned her face towards him, speaking softly, “And we didn’t lie when we told you the age gap didn’t bother us. And we certainly didn’t lie when we promised you that we would always love you, ok?” After YN nodded, Letting Charles also kiss her. This kiss was filled with as much love as Alex, just a bit more urgently but still gentle. After their kiss, the three of them cuddled close to each other, finding solace in their shared warmth.

It would take some time before everything was alright between the three of them again. But for now, sitting together and watching the city lights flicker in the distance was the perfect way to start healing.

[wafywaify]

im so tired but i want to get this out before i forget. this might end up uncomprehensible byt whatever. anyways.

shen qingqiu. shizun. shen yuan, right? that guy. for some reason i have this really strange itch that just- a singer shen yuan au would cure. like im thinking barbie princess and the pauper type singer au. like he was transmigrated a bit after uh binghes blakening ig. maybe he just got out of the abyss, right? on his way to go torture his shizun and all that gof stuff.

shen yuan was just placed into this npc type guy, not relevant to the plot really. maybe hes a brother to uh one of bingges future wife? but anyways, his family's pretty poor so they do all they can to make a few extra coins. he finds out he has a pretty nice voice from um, singing his little sister to sleep? something sweet like that. his family urges him to give it a try, telling him everyone would love his voice. after getting over his embarrassment, he gives it a shot. I imagine he like tries to remember certain songs from yknow. barbie.. barbie songs. i love Barbie.

and hes all like "well no ones gonna recognize it ill just say i wrote it its fineeee" and then that kind of backfires on him when airplane stumbles upon a random dude singing "i need to know" from the hit barbie movie babrie as the island princess. (im just like you, youre just like me!!) actually it'd be funny if he only sung barbie songs. like theyre just melted into his brain after all the times his little sister had forced him to watch them with her. anyways, they hit it off.. in more ways then one. that sounds like a sex joke, its not. im implying he beat bro up. pidw author and all.

anways uh maybe airplane like helps him out and like they get shen yuan to start performing for like important things. idk. uh. good entertainment for the richer ppl yknow. hes become pretty popular now. its hard to book him, with all the requests hes getting now. now this is where bingge comes in. bro needs a performer for an upcoming.. wedding? i guess? he needs to entertain guests so he books the most popular guy right? shen yuan, upon realizing binghe, the heavenly demon emperor, wants to hire him, absolutely freaks out.

he doesnt want anything to do with the protagonist!! he was living a pretty good life!! and every man that comes into contact with binghe either ends in a gruesome death or are thrown into cellars! thats just how pidw was written!! so obviously, the best course of action is to ignore it! ignore everything! uhhh.. bad idea, really. he basically just sends a letter back saying "haha sorry cant, busy!!!"

and binghe.. binghe does not take that all too well. who would've thought. not shen yuan. who dared ignore the literal emperor!? conqueror of realms??!! and so, he sets out to go see for himself how "busy" this lowly singer is!! que dramatic scene where binghe walks into a pub and theres like at least 50 or so people crowded to the back. hes confused at first, before he hears this almost angelic voice. it seems to wash over the entire pub, entrancing its residents. like a siren calling out.

there isnt exactly a "stage" in this pub, so he cant really see whos singing. he quickly makes his way towards the crowd and pushed his way through. after the people realize who he is, its easy enough. his eyes land on one of the most beautiful humans he's ever seen. his eyes are almost crystal clear in this lighting. a warmish brown, almost orange. his auburn brown hair is fully down, embellished with golden jewels and hair tinsel. a strange look.. but it works on him. and his skin..

before he can ogle anymore, the angelic mans voice tapers off, leaving the crowd disappointed. binghe looks up to see the other staring at him, eyes wide.

might continue this tmr or like fix it up a bit.. but yeah.. singer shen yuan save me.. please i need him so badly. also i love fics that have bingge and shen yuan bickering theyre always so good. i love them being silly in strange ways. part 2!!!

[inkykeiji]

what now?

character: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeee happy birthday dabi!!! sorry i’m a day late, and sorry i keep writing angst for your birthday. this piece is set directly after dabi’s touya reveal, in that dingy little safe house he seems to love so much! please heed the warnings below and stay safe!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dom/sub dynamics, use of master/owner/sir, fem!reader, minimal prep, biting, branding, blood, the piece switches between both dabi and touya as names, size kink + size difference, spanking, objectification, degradation + dumbification, a lil bit of praise, dabi’s pretty mean when he’s fucking, dabi carries reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, choking

words: 8.8k

It’s dark by the time he returns, reeking of charred flesh and ash. He had stashed you away in a decaying little safe house—a place no one else knew about, a place that was his and his alone—and had told you to wait for him. He had promised he’d return to you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, he’d be back, pinky swear.

Touya never breaks his pinky swears. Dabi might, though.

You had seen his video. You had been watching the news just like he told you to, anxious, waiting for any sign or indication of trouble, of terror, but the heat and the dust had been too much for the news cameras to penetrate, and there had been no reports of casualties on either side. 

Yet. 

It’s astonishing to think that the whole world knows his name now—his true name, the one buried in his blood and his bones, the one staining his soul, the one he can’t snuff out, no matter how hard he tries. You remember the first time he told it to you. 

“Touya.” 

He had said suddenly, randomly, while laying in bed with you one night back at the League’s hideout—back before all of this was set in motion, back when there was just the gentle clink of glass sounding beneath the floorboards, followed by a muddled curse and the rapid mashing of plastic buttons. 

It was muttered out in the dead of the night, when the wind was stagnant and the moonlight shimmered through grimy windows, brilliance of the beams diffused by the dirt, turning everything a hazy silver, glinting off his stitches.

“Hmm?”

“That’s my real name. Touya.”

“Touya,” you had murmured to yourself, rolling the letters around on your tongue, allowing them to seep into your flesh. “It’s beautiful.”

“Todoroki Touya.”

Oh.  

“It’s still beautiful,” you said softly, after several moments of silence, feeling Dabi melt beneath your words, tender yet resolute. “Even if the man who gave it to you isn’t.”

“Yeah,” he had responded, though his voice had sounded weird to his ears; odd, off, broken. “Fuck that guy.”

And that had been it. You hadn’t made a big deal about it, or pushed him to tell you more, or badgered him with questions and curiosities about his past. You had just accepted it and continued on. 

He had offered up shards of information over the next few months, always murmured out in the dead of night, always a piece and never a whole, always something too jagged to fit with any of the other pieces of his jigsaw he had gifted you. 

But it didn’t matter. Who he was, his past, the name he carries around and DNA twined inside his body—none of it mattered. He was, and will always be, the man you love, irregardless of the name he was born into, and the curse it bears.

The harsh unlatching of that decrepit painting startles you from your stewing thoughts, your gaze snapping toward the noise just in time to catch Dabi crawling through the trick window, entrance hidden behind the heavy gilded frame. 

Your legs toss themselves off the fraying couch the instant his gaze meets yours, heart kickstarting thick bouts of adrenaline to rush through your veins, footsteps keeping time with the tattered exhales each bang of your heart sends barrelling up your throat, body colliding into his only a moment later.

He catches you with ease, laughing loudly as he sweeps you from the floor, strong arms locked at the wrists around your lower back. Instinctively, your ankles hook together at the base of his spine, fingers immediately wandering into the dirty hair at the nape of his neck, whole body wound around his own.

He’s still laughing, bright and breathless and so, so beautiful, even as he crushes his lips to yours, even as your tongue pries past his teeth and slams against his own. It spills down your throat in warm vibrations and you swallow it readily, greedily, hands sinking further into tufts of ink-tinged ivory and twining the strands around your knuckles, desperate to tug him closer. 

The tang of death stings your tongue, earth and copper and smoke, so poignant you swear you can taste their screams, those who lost their lives to his flames and Machia’s feet and the rubble left in their wake, but you don’t care.

You don’t care, because he’s here, he’s home, he’s safe and back in your arms, with his teeth clacking against yours and his spit flooding your mouth and his unruly little giggles consistently breaking the flow of your lips. 

“Did you see it? Huh? Did you see it?” he hurls the words into your mouth, lips still mashed against your own but spread in a smile, sapphire eyes twinkling.

“I did,” you confirm with a nod, tips of your noses nudging. “I did, it was brilliant; you were brilliant, baby.”

“I know,” he snickers, foreheads knocking together, breath wafting in small, ragged pants across your face as his feet begin to move, unable to stand still. “It couldn’t have gone more perfect, I swear to fuckin’ Christ. It was—It was better than I could’ve ever imagined. I can’t even believe it.”

Words continue to tumble from his lips in excited gasps as he twirls in wide lopsided circles slow and careless around the decaying little safe house, his boots conjuring small puffs of dust beneath their soles.

“I wish you could’ve been there, baby, honest. I wish you could’ve seen that fucker’s face, it was fuckin’ priceless, and—Oh! Fuck, how could I forget the best part!” 

Halting his whirling, he pulls back to look at you more resolutely, as if he has to see the whole picture, sapphire darting around your face all wild and erratic, his smile spreading impossibly wider; uncanny, inhuman, eyes glowing with the thrill of the secret he’s about to spill.

“Shouto was there, too! How much happier could a coincidence get!” 

“Shouto?”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be there, but seriously, it was the cherry on top.” 

His feet begin to move again, resuming his impromptu dance number, adrenaline thrumming in his veins, overflowing from his orifices—smile stretching, chest swelling. 

“His presence is what really made it spectacular, you know? Sure, dad was broken, but Shouto…” Dabi shakes his head. “Little baby Shouto was knocked off his fucking feet.”

“Oh, I can only imagine…” 

…How horrifying of a realization it must’ve been; how terrifying it must’ve felt to encounter your father’s worst mistake in the breathing, bloodied flesh.

“I doubt he even remembers me—” Dabi continues, “he was only five or so when I died; he barely knew me at all.” He laughs, but it sounds tangled, caught on something buried in his throat. “Imagine that! Your big brother, only ever a ghost haunting your life, back from the grave!” 

“I’m sure he was very shocked,” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his again, fingers combing through the hair at the back of his skull. 

“Shocked? Baby, he was beyond shocked. He was—He was—I don’t even have a word for it!”

Another laugh spills from his lips, jagged and squeaky and full of razors. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful genuine happiness looks on him, even if it’s tinted with derangement—the edges of his smile a little too sharp, the glint in his eye a little too vicious.  

“The whole thing sounds magnificent,” you admit, soft and genuine, lips brushing his own. “I’m so happy it went so well.”

“It was perfect,” he gushes in a sigh. “The only way it could’ve been any more perfect is if mom, Yumi, and Natsu were there—but I’m sure they all caught the broadcast.”

You’re sure they did, too. That news programme had been playing on every major screen across the entirety of Japan; you’d have to be buried beneath a rock to have missed it.

He’s still babbling, feet still hopping and skipping around with you cradled tightly to his chest as the anticipation of his return finally wears off, clears from your system, and you take a real, good look at him. 

And your heart sinks.

New burns have bubbled up on his cheeks, leaving only a sliver of skin between them and the scars below his eyes. Staples have snapped in half, hanging precariously from chunks of dead flayed flesh, their broken edges tinged an ugly black, burnt by Todoroki flames. Speckles of crimson are splattered artfully across his hair—though whether they belong to him or someone else, it’s hard to tell—the small remaining patches of healthy skin marred by dried black dye. 

“Baby,” you breathe, struggling to keep your smile from trembling, struggling to keep concern from seeping into your voice. “You’re filthy.” 

“Yeah, you should’a saw the other guy!” he giggles at his own joke, strident and sticky in his throat, but his smile is still so bright.

“And you’re hurt.”

He blows a dismissive breath from between his lips. “Can barely feel a thing, though—and I’m not even rolling right now!” 

“Still,” you say, a frown beginning to weight the corners of your grin. “You should let me clean you up.”

“But it isn’t even painful.”

“Still,” you repeat, tender fingers brushing strands of white back from his forehead. “I want to clean you up.” 

Begrudgingly, he allows it, sat on the closed toilet lid and continuing to chatter on as you tend to his wounds, words bubbling up on breathless excitement, massive smile still slapped, almost uncomfortably so, across his face.

Oxygen keeps escaping him before he finishes his sentences, everything bouncy and enthusiastic, and it’s such a stark contrast to the Dabi you’re used to, with his languid apathetic drawl and unhurried, uninterested speech. 

And despite the subject matter, it’s nice, it’s cute. 

He tells you about his father’s paralyzation and the tears in Shouto’s eyes and the horrified panic coating their faces as careful fingers dab and wipe and smear, meticulous in their task, devoted to their cause, your head nodding along with his endless recounter, emitting the perfectly placed ooh’s and mhmm’s, asking questions when the opportunities present themselves.

And even though you love seeing him this way, full of pure joy and exhilaration, you can’t quite kill the question sprouting in the depths of your mind, chewing on the back of your brain.

What now?

It’s on the tip of your tongue, searing your tastebuds, begging to be spoken. You try to swallow it down, but it claws at the back of your tongue, clinging, curling up in your throat and refusing to be forgotten. 

What now? What’s going to happen now that Enji knows of his existence? What’s going to happen the next time he encounters his eldest child, swathed in the flames he once cherished so dearly, praised so hopefully, eating away at his boy as his hatred burns higher, blazes brighter, consumes his blood and flesh and bones and hopefully swallows down the monster that bred him in the process? 

Will there even be anything left at all? Of either of them?

Does Dabi even care? Does Touya? 

You know he’s still in there, despite the fact that his heart’s been corroded by the bitterness that’s been festering inside of him for eleven years—you’ve seen him. 

You’ve seen him, trailing along with Toga, causticity eating at his teeth as he spits that she’s fucking stupid, this is so fucking stupid, but allowing himself to be led anyway, zero resistance as her tiny hands tug him along behind her bouncing form, feet following willingly. 

You’ve seen him, meticulously picking through the glass bowls at the League’s small Halloween get together, checking and then double checking that everyone’s favourite candy is there, growling that he really doesn’t give a fuck, actually, he’s just looking for his own all the while, despite the fact that his fingers have skipped over that particular chocolate bar several times. 

You’ve seen him, on those nights where Tomura just can’t get to sleep, sprawled out on the couch in the early hours of the morning, dirty boots an inch from Tomura’s crossed legs, staring blankly at his phone and waving Kurogiri off with a go to bed already, old man. 

 So what now?

“He tried to cool me down.”

The sudden switch to a quiet, monotonous voice snaps you from your tangle of thoughts, eyes refocusing on Dabi’s face, realizing you’ve rubbed a streak of his cheek near raw. 

“What?”

“Shouto. He tried to cool me down. With his ice.” A pause, a drop of blood, balancing precariously on his lash line. “Like…Like how mom used to.” 

His Adams apple bobs with the heft of a thick swallow, his eyes blank and unblinking, staring at your shoulder. 

The blood in your veins runs frigid, hand held rigid and hovering over his wounds.

“During the fight?” 

His gaze stays fixed on that spot as he nods, slowly, just once. 

“I was overheating, and he…” 

Another beat of silence passes, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears, harsh and fast with the rapid beating of your heart. The blood collecting along his lashes finally overflows, escaping their confines to pool in the crinkles of dead skin and coat gold in crimson.

“Hey,” you murmur, so gentle, so soft it inspires a second wave of blood, dainty hands cupping his jaw and tilting his face to yours. 

Thumbs swipe through the thick streams of scarlet trickling down his cheeks, smearing bright strokes across healthy skin. His eyes, red and glazed but tearless, hold yours for a moment, his nostrils twitching twice. 

Beneath your palms, the hinges of his jaw flex with another dense swallow, warped smile wobbling a little.

“Whatever,” he says, voice less than an octave off from normal. “Doesn’t matter, not important.”

It does, you want to say. It is, you want to insist—

“All I want to do now is celebrate the best day of my life with the love of my life.”

Saliva pools beneath your tongue, the threat of tears thick in your throat.

“Touya…” your eyes search his face, worry woven into the wrinkles between your furrowed brow. “It—”

“Please,” he whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a wisp of air, his eyes closing briefly for a moment as he gathers himself, lids lifting a second later. “Let me have this.” 

You want to, you so desperately want to—want to allow him this space to be happy, unfiltered and unadulterated, even in all of it’s unhinged, brainsick fervour. You don’t want to ruin this for him, the self-proclaimed Best Day of His Life, but…

What now?

It’s nipping at your lips, leaving them tingling and twitching, but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and suck, melting the question in the smothering heat. 

Now is not the time to ask. You will save this question, will fold it into a neat little shape and stash it away in your stomach, where it will rage and roar and demand to be spoken, where you will shove it down and stomp it into submission until it is time to be released.

You refuse to steal this moment from him.

“Okay,” you finally murmur, stroking his blood-slicked cheeks. “Okay.”

It’s hard to ignore the concern scraping at the walls of your skull, to disregard the talons tearing at your heart, to snuff out the flames licking at your lungs, but you’ll do it for him.

Always for him.

And for the first time tonight, his smile softens, sharp edges gone melty with love.

Large hands, hardened by blue fire and the ends of Marlboros, skim up your bare thighs, the callouses adorning his palms scraping roughly against sensitive skin, inspiring trails of chills in their wake. The hem of your dress pools around his wrists as his touch climbs higher, filthy fingers, with dirt caked beneath their nails and grime lining their cuticles, wiggling their way beneath a frilly pink waistband, curling almost protectively around your hips, tips digging into supple flesh just shy of too hard.

“A perfect day deserves a perfect end, don’t you think?” 

The question drips from his lips in a sultry murmur, stare heavily lidded as he tugs you down into his lap, a leering smirk smeared across his face. 

“Oh, yeah?” your arms wind around his neck, nose bumping against his own. “And what’s that?” 

“Stuffing my favourite girl full of my cum.” 

Lips trace along the edge of your jaw as he speaks, words leaving sloppy strokes of saliva as his mouth moves against you skin. 

“Over,” kiss, “And over,” kiss, “And over again, until it’s leaking out of her pretty little pussy, all over her pretty thighs, all over my pretty cock.”

“I think that—ah—I think that’s a great way to end the day.”

“Mm,” he hums, painting a flat, wide stroke of saliva up the column of your neck, the tip of his tongue tracing your cupids bow, nose bumping against your own. “It’s my favourite way to end the day.” 

His lips press to yours, tongues finding each other instantly, dragging across one another in crude, sloppy caresses, heavy and slow and firm as they grind, massaging together in little circles. It’s almost as if you’re trying to soak up his taste, to permanently imbue your tastebuds with it, to keep a little reminder of him—a single piece—with you forever. 

It’s messy, thick drool oozing from the seams of your conjoined mouths, but you don’t care, licking excess saliva from the corners of his mouth, sucking the dribble steadily collecting on his bottom lip, lapping up the foamy spit coating his chin staples, leaving them gleaming with you. 

Lips clash again, teeth gnawing their way into the warm, wet heat of mouths, desperate to devour any part of each another you possibly can, sucking gasps and mewls and laughs from one throat into another, inhaling shards of your souls and swallowing them down, burying them in pits of stomachs and depths of guts—keepsakes, kept safe.

You can taste his blood in your mouth, salty with the tears that can’t fall, trickling from the edges of his eyes. Unfurling from your mouth, the tip of your tongue licks a thin strip up his ragged cheeks, over dead skin and warm bumpy metal, sopping up crimson sadness and consuming it. 

You hold it for him, extract it from him, bear it with him, letting it soak into your heart where it can stay, for as long as he needs it to.

But that isn’t enough for him, because he wants something in return; he wants your blood, too.

Sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, sucked taut and pressed tight to his tongue, a muted chuckle vibrating in his chest at your responding yelp. The strong hinges of his jaw flex, burrowing ivory deep, deep, deeper into your flesh, until the barrier snaps and copper explodes on his tongue, sticky and potent and so, so much. 

He refuses to release you, ribs rattling with a growl when you try in vain to tug your lip free from its captors, a sob hitching in your throat, followed by a wheezy whine. 

“Stay put, goddamn it,” he mumbles the words through his occupied teeth, tongue stroking your lip in the process. “M’not finished.” 

Your squirming stops almost instantly, body deflating into his own, and he huffs out a snort, hot against your face. 

The grip of his teeth loosens marginally, the tip of his tongue laving over the steadily weeping wound in firm, thorough strokes, tracing every indent his teeth left behind, dips rapidly swelling and filling with watered down blood, a mold of six teeth carved into your flesh. 

The strength of his suction increases, siphoning fresh blood from the tiny gashes, and he moans a little, eyes rolling back in his skull as fluttery lashes frame the whites, his hips twitching up. 

Sicko. 

His cock is already hard, rutting into your core in irregular little movements, the lace of your panties so delicate you swear you can feel it throbbing, his motions molding the dainty fabric to your soaking folds with every slight jerk upward.

Slim fingers flex, grip on your hips tightening and further burying his nails in your flesh as he forces you to begin rocking in his lap, grinding down to meet each roll up.

His lips have left your own again, his mouth streaked with your blood, a pretty pink shimmer glazing the bottom half of his face. Blood is still trickling from the six tiny slashes his teeth left, overflowing from the seam of your mouth and flowing down your chin in unbroken streams. 

Swiping a thumb through the thin floods, he smears sticky crimson across your skin, collecting a healthy swap of the substance on the pad of his finger—so much so it begins dripping down the curve to settle in the lines of his knuckle and his palm.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, repeating the action, painting you in messy shades of yourself. “Just beautiful.” 

A whimper slips through your lips, eager tongue catching his thumb and curling around the appendage—protective, possessive—drawing it into the heat of your mouth. 

He lets you guide him willingly, watches with lust-blown pupils as your lips pucker around the second knuckle, slick tongue cradling his thumb as it sucks it to the roof of your mouth, pools of saliva washing your blood from his skin. 

His breath is coming out in hot, hard huffs, exhaled through parted lips as your mouth tightens, swallows his thumb down further. His pupils pulse, gnawing away at his irises as they try to devour you whole, blue so thin it’s scarcely an outline tracing gaping orbs of black.

Your hips are still gyrating against his in erratic little circles, a single palm still clasped around your waist guiding you, encouraging you as he bucks in response, straining cock rubbing along your cunt. 

It’s just barely catching your clit, nothing more than teasing little grazes, dense heat simmering in the pit of your tummy.

You need more.

“Dabi,” you whine a little, wriggling in his grasp, a desperate attempt to garner more friction. 

“Uh-huh?”

“Touya.”

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, the nonchalance in his tone contradicting the mischief glinting in his eye. “What is it?” 

Chrome chips your nails as you claw at the heavy buckle of his belt, leather squeaking against metal. His free hand captures your wrists easily, holding them together in one palm, hard enough that the bones grind together.

“You want something? Huh?” 

Brows knitting, you glare at him, bottom lip quivering a little, fighting the urge to jut into a full-blown pout, fighting the urge to spit out what do you think? 

“You know.”

He does, of course he does. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to give it to you.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it,” he purrs as your chin puckers, your whole face scrunched up in a scowl. “C’mon, baby, c’mon, be a good little girl and ask for it.” 

Sapphire scathes your skin, almost as bright and burning as his flames, his unadulterated attention nearly too much to bear, confidence and brattiness withering beneath his scorching stare.

Lashes fluttering, your eyes flee his, tears forming to shield you from his heat, shoulders caving inward in an attempt to protect you from his unyielding scrutiny. 

“W-Want your cock.”

His tongue clicks in disapproval, a mocking frown slapped across his face barely suppressing his amusement, eyes shining, power flaring. 

“That’s not asking, sweetheart.” 

Swallowing thickly, you force your gaze to his, lids squinting a little beneath his brilliance.

“Can I please have your cock? Please?” 

“Please what?”

And although he’s acting unaffected, he can’t quite quell the spasming of his hips, jerking up in minuscule movements and grinding his cock into your sopping hole, panties clinging uncomfortably to your folds.

An eyebrow raises, a question of Well? I’m waiting… imbued in the subtle action. 

He isn’t going to give it to you unless you ask properly, like a good little girl is supposed to.

As expected.

“Please, Master,” you mewl, fingers curling over the edges of his belt and tugging, sharp leather biting into soft hands. “Please, please, let me ride your cock, Sir.”

Cavernous eyes observe you for a moment, scanning for dishonesty, grin growing when a whine vibrates in your throat, low and needy.

“Please?” you whimper, the leather of his belt creasing beneath your grip, squealing as it rubs together, a plead hitching in your chest. “Pl—Please, Sir.”

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying, acting as if he’s doing you some sort of favour, as if his cock isn’t jumping eagerly with each drool of pre-cum leaking from its slit. “Go on, then. Get it out.”

Words of thanks are pouring from your lips as your hands hastily undo his pants, yanking at the buckle, tugging at the zipper, shoving at the waistband, messy and urgent until his cock is finally released.

The stretch is nothing short of incredible, as it always is with him, little hole trembling as it swallows around his girth, drawing him in further and further, deeper and deeper, slow and steady until the head nudges your cervix, his hips twitching up twice, ensuring he’s hit the end, buried to the hilt with nowhere else to go, completely stuffing your cunt full. 

And despite the trademark ache, delicate flesh stinging as it splits into little fissures to accommodate him, your hips begin moving immediately, starved and raring, whimpering a little into his shoulder as you cling to him, every rotation of your hips radiating pricks of pain through your gut.

“God, you’re pathetic,” he snorts, but the insult is soft, edges dulled by love. “So fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” 

“Can’t help it,” you murmur, rubbing your cheek along the curve of his neck, then his jaw, streaking your face with his sweat. “Missed you so much.” 

“I know, baby,” the tip of his tongue swipes through the blood still staining your chin. “Bet you missed my cock just as much, if not more.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” you’re nodding in messy little motions, hips still rocking languidly against his own, clit gliding against his slick pubic bone in rhythmic strokes. “I did, I missed it s’much—”

A gasp slices through your slurred words, sharp air shoved from your chest as his hips begin snapping upward, rough and ruthless and without warning, the hands grasping your hips tightening around your flesh as he forces you to stay in place.

“Of course you did,” he grunts out, as if it’s preposterous to think otherwise. “I’m not at all surprised; my sweet lil slut can’t live without my cock, can she?” 

“Never, never, ne-never,” you babble out in confirmation, words stuttered harshly with the piston of his hips. 

Another laugh spills from his lips, airy and malicious in melody.

“No, never,” he rasps, ever-so-slightly breathless with the effort, dewdrops of sweat beginning to adorn his hairline. “Fuck, how would you ever get off without me, huh?” 

The question sends a pang searing through your heart, echoing a question you’ve been asking yourself often as of late—how would you ever survive without him? 

The thought stings your eyes, thick tears rushing to cloud your vision and rendering him nothing more than a watery blur of ivory and violet.

“I—I wouldn’t, Sir, I wouldn’t!” you cry out, rapid fluttering of your lids dislodging teardrops, streaming down your cheeks in glistening pairs. “I n-need you, I need you, always, always, al-always!” 

Your fingers curl against his shoulders, nails catching on staples, a hiss spit from the gaps of his teeth. They sink into grafted skin, dead and weathered and dusted in ash, and cling, knuckles locked and stiff as you try to pull yourself impossibly closer to him.

Gnarled flesh collects beneath the edges of your nails as your grip strengthens, chewing on his body and gathering it in your grasp, consuming whatever tiny slivers you can, a silent plead to stay.

“It’s okay, precious,” he hushes you, lips pushed into a mocking pout, contradicted by the smothering affection exuding from his eyes. “M’here, m’not going anywhere.”

God, you hope not. 

“Please, please—” 

And you drown yourself in it, drown yourself in him; his taste, spicy hickory and warm smoke, exhaled onto your hungry tongue, soaked up and swallowed down; his gaze, overflowing with adoration and intense attention, tying itself in a thick braided noose around your neck and tightening; his touch, stamping his prints into your flesh in blotchy bursts of blue, singeing his name with licks of sapphire that welt and wound, that crust and crater and scar. 

Your ribs squeeze, sucked inward by the voracious black hole your heart has morphed into—never sated, never filled, always vying for more—whole body curling beneath the strain.

But he’s right there to hold you, to steady you, to keep you intact, his hands the stitches you need to keep from unraveling.

“I know, I know,” he’s cooing as you choke on sobs, still scraping weakly at his back, “your Master’s gonna give you what you need.”

Slim fingers flex, soot-stuffed nails latching onto your flesh like tiny leeches, dug in nice and deep, using his grasp as leverage to control the speed and angle of your hips. 

Your feet skid against the chipped bathroom tile, the muscles in your legs tensing as you attempt to find stable purchase on the floor trying to aid in his movements, to fuck yourself on him.

It’s no use, though—it’s not like it matters, anyway, not when Dabi’s got complete domination over your body, over all of its movements and positions, manhandling you into whatever arrangement he pleases, reduced to nothing more than his favourite little plaything. 

“It’s real cute,” he’s telling you in that sugared condescension you’ve come to love so much, “that you’re trying so hard to help me.”

A whine escapes your lips, caught somewhere between apologetic and petulant, hips stammering as they begin to slow, and he laughs. 

“Aw, no, don’t stop,” his tongue clicks against his teeth. “Keep trying, it’s so precious.” 

And although his tone is taunting, full of characteristic derisive glee, his eyes are encouraging, begging you to keep going, for him. 

And so, you do, desperate to please him, the muscles in your thighs beginning to burn as you work in vain to pathetically hump away at him, hips knocking together irregularly as your footing continues to slip.

It doesn’t do much to assist him, but he’s happy anyway, a certain type of pride saturating his features, dulling the points of his wide smile, dimming the harsh brilliance in his eyes, turning his face into something a little softer, something a little sweeter.

Dabi keeps an iron grip on the pace—not that you’d ever expect anything different—forcing you to ride him hard and fast, bouncing you on his cock as his hips buck up in expert rhythm, completing your movements every time. The head drags over that engorged spot with each pound into you, sending a judder of scorching sparks to rush through your blood, each bout more intense than the last.

“God, look at you, you’re such a little slut for me, huh?” he pants out, rapacious eyes sweeping across your face, keen to soak up your expression. “Taking my cock like you were fuckin’ made for it.”

He’s really fucking into you now, jerking you on his cock like a toy, because you are—something that’s his to use whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit, something that’s his to own, to care for and splinter to bits and painstakingly piece back together, over and over and over again.

Tears of ecstasy are pouring from your eyes, cascading down your face in twin streams, excess dewdrops embedded in spiked lashes glittering with every rough pump of his hips.

It all hurts—always does, with Dabi, incapable of treating anything with any degree of gentleness; not a flaw, just a fact, oblivious to his own strength—but the pain only works to elevate the pleasure, pushing it higher and higher and higher until it’s choking you, smothering your lungs and stuffing your throat and spilling out your mouth in the form of messy, stringy sobs.

“S’been so long, Sir, so long,” you weep, nails burrowing further into his body, almost as if they’re desperate to reach his core—to pry past his ribs and claw into his heart and curl up in his soul. 

Because it has been so long, too long, most of Dabi’s attention soaked up by Paranormal Liberation duties and his own extensive planning as Shigaraki’s due date drew closer and closer, any scraps of time thrown your way whenever he had a spare moment to sneak off to this dilapidated safe house where he’d stashed you away, his visits sporadic and unpredictable. 

“You’re right,” he says, and there’s a tinge of melancholy to his breath. “It’s been way too long since your sweet cunt has been filled with your Owner’s cock, hasn’t it?”  

“It has, it has,” you’re nodding sloppily, tongue tangled in threads of spit.

“My poor lil pussy,” he pouts, and it’s so derisive. “Must be starving, it hasn’t been stuffed nice and full with my cum in forever.” 

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in agreement, “feels so empty without you, Sir, feels s-so wrong.”

“Aw, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crudely laps at the steady stream of tears, vicious bouncing causing his teeth to nick your cheek. “I’m gonna change that.”

Chapped lips find your ear, slicked with saliva, his voice dropping an octave as he continues. 

“Because tonight,” he breathes, sweltering against your ear, his tongue darting from between wet lips to trace along the curve. “I am going to stuff you so full of my cum that—ah, fu-fuck—that it’s going to flood your cute lil tummy, that it’s gonna seep into your organs, into your fucking blood, that it’s gonna be leaking out all over the fucking place.” 

“Oh, oh, please, Sir, please!” 

The pleads come out as a single string, melded together with drool and garbled on your tongue. Little jolts of fire shoot through your body with the constant ramming of his hips, flames licking at your veins as they sear through them, the sharp slap of your ass against his thighs complementing his harsh pants and your broken moans.

“Yeah, I know, my little cumslut wants that so badly, doesn’t she?”

Your brain struggles to stitch together a sentence longer than his name, your mind gone delirious for his seed—and it’s an aching, it’s an addiction, sick and depraved and downright uncontrollable—little uh-huh!’s mercilessly fucked from your throat, head bobbling along with the affirmations.

You can feel it, a taut pleasure building within your body, a fluttering that furls into a tight ball of sapphire flame in the pit of your belly, pulsing a little faster, a little harder, a little more with every drive of his cock. 

“Oh, Touya, Tou—Touya!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, say my name.” 

A growl rattles against his ribs, whole chest vibrating with the force of it, and his head dips down, slick tongue painting strokes of thick, shimmering saliva across your skin, an artist priming his favourite canvas.

“C’mon, tell me who’s making you feel this good—” and although it’s supposed to be a command, it comes out as a plead, voice tapering off into a low whine, muffled against your shoulder. “Tell me, tell me.”

“You, Touya,” you choke out, the name mangling itself in your throat. “You, you, you!” 

“You’re goddamn right, it’s me.” 

Sharp teeth bury themselves in your flesh, mouth clamped over the junction of your neck, harder and harder and harder until the barrier of your skin finally splits, syrupy copper erupting on his tongue. 

His name shatters on your lips, a dark chuckle soaking into the wound when you arch your neck, stretched and strained and offering him more room to work despite the squeal of pain sticking in your throat

It’s all so much, too much, his teeth in your flesh and his cock filling your cunt and—and—!

“Gonna—gonna—!” 

A large palm collides with your ass, sick slap echoing off the cracked walls. 

“Is that any way to ask your Master for permission?” Dabi spits, voice dripping with disappointment. “God,” he huffs out a laugh, incredulous, but the mirth shining in his eyes is so bright, so blazing it almost hurts to look at. “My cock must’ve really made you go fucking stupid, huh? Don’t you know this body belongs to me?” 

Another spank lands against your bottom, a yelp hitching in your chest with the ruthless jackhammer of his hips, his fingers sinking into the burning flesh in a bruising grip, amplifying the sting of the slap, digging it deep into your tissues. 

“This body is not allowed to cum unless I say so—so ask nicely, you little bitch.” 

“M’sorry!” you cry out, a fresh torrent of tears flooding your eyes. “M’sorry, m’so sorry, Master—”

“Yeah? Yeah?” 

His other hand snakes between your heaving, sweat-drenched bodies, thumb and forefinger clamping down on your clit and tweaking, hard enough to force a scream from your tongue, sending spikes of pain rushing through your veins. His fingers flatten against the engorged little nub a moment later, rubbing hard, quick circles into it, a malicious little giggle squeaking in his throat because it’s so swollen, baby and Christ, you must wanna cream all over his cock so badly! 

Sounds of affirmation spill uncontrollably from your lips, head nodding in frenetic little motions, whole face shimmering and sticky with salt, snot, sweat. 

“Uh-huh? Uh-huh?” 

He’s mocking you, chin tilted up in superiority, staring down the bridge of his nose to regard you in patronizing pity, eyebrows raised and imploring you to continue. 

“Apologies are not asking, baby,” his grip catches your slippery clit again, twisting it harder this time, your eyes scrunching shut as a cry shatters on your tongue, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, tearing out staples. 

He’s right, you know he is, but he’s making it difficult to speak, difficult to ask, difficult to stitch together a single word at all, let alone a full thought, when he’s playing with your clit like that, alternating between pulsing pinches and gentle caresses, the calloused pads of his fingertips providing just the right amount of friction. 

Your whole body quivers with the effort of holding your orgasm back, muscles pulled tight and taut with the strain, and he laughs—beautiful, breathless, bona-fide—cock twitching inside of you. 

“Pl—Please, Sir,” you manage to gasp out, entreatment forced from your tongue in a single thin breath. “Please, let me cum, please, please, please!” 

The pleads melt into one gooey stream as they flow from your lips, slathered in drool and dripping from the corners of your mouth in thick cords. 

“Yeah? You want it? You wanna cum all over your Owner’s cock?” 

“Yes, yes!” you practically wail, pawing urgently at him. “Please, sir, let me cum, make me cum, I wanna—I wanna—”

“Alright, alright,” Dabi’s pacifying, but his actions don’t slow, hips merciless with their assault on your body. “Go ahead, sweetheart, make a pretty mess on me.” 

Never one to disobey a direct order from your Master, you do, almost instantly, entire body convulsing as your cunt pulses around his shaft, gushing so much slick that it floods his thighs and soaks the waistband of his pants.

The constant circles ground into your sensitive clit as you spasm around him only work to heighten the pleasure, brain gone numb with the shocks of ecstasy coursing through your body, another flurry of jolts sent through your veins with every run through the routine, skin rippling with the impact. 

He doesn’t stop his assault even after you cum, vehemently refusing to let up even as the clenching of your cunt fades into something faint and erratic, even as violent tremors loop through your veins, entire body quivering in his tight grasp, even as your fingers claw weakly at his wrist, crooking staples and scraping scarred flesh, blood rushing to fill the gouges left by your nails. 

No, he doesn’t stop until you’re teetering on the brink of passing out, wandering in and out of consciousness, his name leaving your lips in a near incomprehensible jumble, slurred and heavy with spit. 

Only then does he scoop you up in his arms, your legs dangling limply from his elbows as his palms firmly clutch your ass, hard cock still aching and buried deep inside of you, and carry your pliant body to that worn, fraying couch, with the puffs of white cotton leaking through the polyester and the exposed springs groaning beneath your weight.

You barely notice the change in scenery, though, still blissfully fucked out, nerves gnawed raw  by his overstimulation, a soft hiss slipping from between your teeth as the scratchy cushion rubs against your bare bottom, a raised imprint of Dabi’s palm and all five fingers still rapidly swelling. 

“It’s my turn now, angel,” Dabi’s words drift over your body in an indistinct haze, vision fuzzing at the edges, your head nodding instinctively. 

“Gonna—Gonna make good on your promise, Master?” 

“I always do, don’t I?” 

And then his hips are thrusting, cockhead repeatedly ramming your cervix with every harsh plunge forward, leaning down to catch fresh tears with his lips. The tip of his tongue traces their salty trajectory all the way to your bottom lashes, matted into wet little spikes, before sucking a hickey into your cheek, tiny capillaries bursting beneath his tongue, staining the thin skin with swiftly developing violet.

Tufts of ivory cling to his temples in damp clumps, dried black dye liquifying beneath his heat and running down his cheeks, leaving streaks along the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Sweat collects in the dips of his collarbones, shimmering gently in the flickering light spilling from the television set, a wavering news reporter recounting the tragic events of today, stuttered by static.

“God,” he nearly whines, voracious eyes sweeping across your face, desperate to soak up your twisted expression of pleasure-tinged pain—the way your lids keep drooping as you struggle to keep them pried open, eyes speckled with stars, lashes encrusted with tears; the way your tongue keeps lolling out to draw your slick lip back between your teeth, muffling your whimpers and mewls, and oh, no, he can’t have that, a gentle tut of his tongue clicking against his teeth as his thumb tugs it free from your mouth, drawing out a stringy whine in the process.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you go dumb from my cock.”

The words leave his lips in an airy gasp, as if he can hardly believe you’re real beneath him, as if he can hardly believe it’s his cock making you look this way, a hand leaving your waist to slide along your torso, taking the hem of your dress with it, rough palm tracing every curve and dip and bulge as it crawls to your collarbone. 

He takes his time to admire you—to appreciate the sensation of your skin beneath his touch, fingers gripping, kneading, scraping, gathering palmfuls of you in his grasp before letting go again in a stunned sort of marvel—hips slowing to an uneven rutting, unable to fully halt his fucking. 

Keeping a firm, steady grasp on your body and pinning you in place, his free hand continues to roam, hardened fingertips sinking into the pretty blue lace of your bra hard with enough force to elicit a yelp from your lips, amusement tugging at his lips. 

“So, so beautiful,” he pants, eyes skimming your now exposed body, his fiery gaze outlining every edge, dedicated in committing every contour to memory. “Fucking look at you.” 

In all the time you’ve been with him, your body has become a scrapbook of Dabi. It tells stories of him—what he’s done, how he’s felt, where he’s been, why he did it—stamped permanently into your flesh using his teeth and his tongue and his flames, in raised flesh and puckered craters and glittering scabs.

You can’t tear your stare from his face, though, too busy worshipping him, sapphire eyes gaping and glazed as they travel along your body, soft huffs of breath escaping his lips, pushed from his throat with the tender heaving of his chest, saliva glistening on his lips, smeared so prettily across the staples climbing his chin. 

Dainty fingers grope at the air, pathetic and yearning, clawing at nothing, and he laughs a little, nothing more than a smooth, deep vibration at the back of his tongue.

His touch finds the apex of your thighs again, nails dimpling flesh as he spreads your legs wide—so wide your muscles begin to burn, taut beneath the strain—a quiet groan rumbling in his chest as he stares at your stretched cunt. 

Two fingers press into your clit, still slick and swollen, grazing over it in slow caresses—back and forth, back and forth, gliding easily over the puffy nub and snorting a little at the way your hole flutters, eager and aching, squeezing his cock, sucking him in, begging for more. 

So cute. 

Eyes wide and unblinking, he plays with you in a trance, slowly but surely building up pleasure in you, pressure in you, fascinated by the way your body so readily reacts to his simple motions, grinding circles and rubbing strokes and pulsing fingertips. 

It enraptures him, puffs of hot air exhaled through slightly parted lips as he watches just his touch bring you to orgasm for the second time tonight, obsessed with the way your cunt trembles around his cock, a surge of your essence streaming from your hole, embracing him in a thick, wet heat.

Your cunt gorges on him—so fuckin’ greedy, even after cumming twice—fluttering a little around the base of his shaft, still oozing so much slick that it’s glazing your ass and his balls, steadily seeping past the tight seam of your hole. 

It’s so pretty, it’s so fuckin’ pretty, baby, he’s breathing, eyes hazy with awe, hips drawing back just a little to watch the way your body clings to his girth, sheathing his cock in a shimmering layer of arousal. 

A palm wraps around the base of his shaft, the head of his cock still buried an inch or two in your straining cunt, and he jerks himself hard and quick, sick wet slaps echoing out among the room as his hand slams between your cunt and his pelvis. 

“Fuck, f-fuck—” 

His hips start moving on their own accord, too impatient, his hand nothing compared to the sweltering ecstasy of your cunt, and he releases his cock, sticky hand collaring your throat, pinioning you to the couch, his thrusts so vicious they’re jostling your body up the cushions, the palm crushing your airway keeping you in place.

Lithe fingers flex as their grip on your neck tightens, coarse pads of his fingertips beginning to heat up, blood in your veins bubbling beneath his touch. 

Your flesh melts beneath his hold, melds itself to his grasp, desperate to stay in his hands forever. 

The sting is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, his palm and all five of his fingers singed into your skin in the prettiest, most precious permanent necklace. You can barely breathe, exhales coming as weak little wheezes, and you swear his flames must be licking into your throat, down to your lungs and straight through your veins, incinerating your blood as your body goes numb, cunt clenching around his cock for the third time, wailing out shards of his name. 

But you don’t allow his hold to let up, to loosen at all, both of your hands placed firmly over his, holding it there harder, a loud moan escaping his lips, his hips stammering out of rhythm. 

“Brand me, Master, brand me, brand me,” you’re gasping out, voice wrecked and raw. “Make me yours, mark me as yours, forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” he nearly sobs, his thrusts turned brutal, primal, losing any semblance of finesse as he relentlessly fucks you, motions stuttering as he finally cums, a violent shudder coursing through his body before he collapses on top of you, drenched in sweat as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with hot, thick cum. 

“More, Touya, more, more!” you’re crying out, scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to pull him closer, shivering legs latching around his waist as tight as you can manage as your hips roll up to meet his own, crudely humping him. “Gimme more!” 

A groan, dense and heavy, spills from his lips, his entire body rippling with hiccups as he ruts into you—automatic, instinctual, desperate to give his sweet girl what she wants, even if it hurts.

“Yeah, yeah, ye-yeah, Touya, Touya, fill me with y’r cum!” 

And so, he does, using your cunt to milk himself even as his form quivers with every rock of his hips, chills skidding across his flesh with every bump of his cockhead against your abused cervix. 

He keeps going, just like you begged him to, just like he promised he would, until your tummy is stuffed full and your cunt is leaking with his seed, until neither of you can take it anymore, bodies shuddering with every hump and drag and grind, deliquescing into one another, a puddle of limbs. 

You stay like that for a while, his body blanketing yours, breathing as one, being as one. Gentle fingertips trail up and down the column of his spine as his bones begin to fuse and harden again, tiptoeing over the trails of staples stitching dead skin to healthy flesh and evoking a mild shudder, pads of your fingers pressing into each golden suture, counting them lovingly, kissing every one. 

Eventually, after your fingers have traversed across all thirty-one, he shifts, manhandling you onto his chest as he shuffles himself beneath you, cradled between his thighs. 

“What now?”

You don’t mean to say it, don’t mean to shatter that delicate, post-orgasmic, precarious peace with two simple words, but they claw up your throat and pry past your teeth and gnaw on your lips, desperate to be vocalized, immortalized, heard.

What now? 

They’re uttered out softly enough, lips moving against his heart, warm breath seeping into his chest, the question worming its way beneath his skin. 

His muscles go rigid, his breath stalling in his lungs.

What happens now that his goal has been reached, Part One in his plan succeeded? What’s the next step, now that the world knows Todoroki Touya is alive and simmering in his hatred, fuelled by spite and ravenous with revenge?

What happens when he goes to face his father for the final time? And what happens if he never returns?

“Oh, I dunno,” he sighs out, but his voice trembles. “We could fix this place up, all nice and swanky, have a couple’a kids, get a golden retriever—y’know, real nuclear family type shit.” 

You laugh, but it comes out strangled, sounding strange to your ears, a distorted sob. 

“The dream, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he says, quiet, nostalgia for a time that has never happened, that will never come, aching in his words. “The dream.” 

A silence settles over the two of you, as tender as the edges of a festering wound.

“I have to do it,” he says after several moments have passed, and his voice is soft—softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you ever thought him capable of—infused with apology.

He does.

You know he does. You understand why. That’s how the story ends, the final chapter he’s been drafting—you were never meant to be a part of this tale, written in between lines and margins, stuffed between words, twined throughout the pages nonetheless. But ultimately, this is his story—to write, to tell, to edit, to revise, to create, to conclude. 

You know.

But the acceptance sticks in your throat, furled into a tight, hard lump, so you nod instead, punctuating your affirmative with a kiss pressed to his chest, planted right over his heart. It soaks into his skin, burrows itself into pulsating muscle and finds salvation there, finds home there, a puzzle piece that snaps into perfect place—something that’s always been missing, now complete. Something he’ll take with him, when his pen leaves the page, when his book snaps shut.

You don’t dare look at him. You don’t need to. You can feel the stutter of his chest, hear the hitch of his breath tangling on hard truths to swallow, smell the copper streaming down his cheeks again.

And you hug him tighter. 

You know. And no matter how badly you wish to, you won’t stop him. 

[yanderenightmare]

can we have more yan DEKU who terrorises his exgirlfriend? like, he sends her creepy letters and gifts, without mentioning it's him of course, scaring her straight back into his arms??

Deku - Midoriya Izuku

TW: yandere, hints of dubcon/noncon, size difference, stalker, mental abuse

Green Paisley

You’d felt watched lately, and things were rarely where you remembered putting them. But thinking it was all in your head, you’d ignored it until you received the first gifts and saw the pictures. Eyes peeled while reading the letter with a shaky hand covering your mouth, you dropped everything on the steps to your apartment when quickly reaching for your phone.

I wasn’t going to write you any letters. I was happy just watching because I knew you were already spoken for. But I’ve noticed that the green-haired guy hasn’t come over lately, and I feel so sad knowing you’re home all alone…

You contact the police, but all they tell you is to invest in a new alarm system. After a little crying at the station, they show you enough sympathy to post a squad car in your neighborhood – but all in all, you’d say they didn’t seem very convinced.

That green-haired guy is a fucking moron. If you were mine, I would never let you go. I would take care of you, much better than he ever could. I would give you only the prettiest gifts and call you only the sweetest names. I’d treat you how someone like you deserves to be treated. Keep you safe and sound and happy to be mine…

You read the stalker’s letter again while browsing ways to upgrade your security – your thumb in your mouth, nail bending where you chewed on it – eyes panning over the photos that came in the box. Taken through the window – some innocent enough, candid pictures of you cooking in the kitchen or watching a movie on the couch. 

Others were not so innocent.

Your nail broke between your teeth as you looked at the revealing pics of you in your bedroom – wearing nothing but flimsy underwear. 

You looked back to the screen and continued scrolling through deals – but more than that, you were trying to distract yourself from what you really wanted to do…

Izuku had always been a source of comfort when it came to safety, and you know he’d come if you called, but since you broke up with him only a couple of months ago it seemed too selfish to ask. Besides, the reasons you broke things off were all because of his derogatory tendencies, and to beg him over because of something like this would only prove his point.

You couldn’t call him over. He’d see it as a win, and you’d decided you wouldn’t lose to his patronizing ways any longer. You needed to do this on your own – without his help.

You had to wait through the weekend until Monday to call a guy. A new box came both days, each one more terrifying than the last. But after installing a new alarm system you felt a little safer.

But the next box stripped that safety away.

I know I must be creeping you out. After all, you have no idea who I am, whereas I know you so intimately. But you shouldn’t feel scared. I would never hurt you. My gift to you today is proof of that.

P.S. Security systems aren’t enough to keep me away from you. 

Beneath the letters were more pictures of you – this time sleeping – inside the house. 

You fell apart – caving in, calling Izuku in tears, begging him to come over in a hurry. “Izu- please, please, please come home-”

He’s sitting on your couch only a curt fifteen minutes later, a tight arm around your midriff, holding you close for comfort while you sobbed against his chest – a furl deepened his brows while reading, holding your stalker’s letters in the other hand with green eyes narrowing for every sentence he finished.

I dream of making you mine. As I watch you sleep, I wonder what you dream of. You look so lonely lying there. Maybe if I keep you company, you’ll start dreaming of me too.

“How many of these have you received?” He questioned when done, looking around at the gift wrap on the floor, green-paisley-patterned, and the several boxes filled with crepe and untouched pieces of what looked like different arrangements of lingerie, candy, and sex toys.

“Four, I think…” You muffled against his tear-soaked shirt, clinging to him with your legs tucked onto his lap.

“Four? Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He echoed, looking down at you with heavy curls shadowing his eyes.

You looked up at him through the blur, lip sucked between your teeth before answering. “I- I went to the police-”

“The police? You went to the police instead of calling me?” He cut you off harshly, making you flinch.

“I-I-” You stuttered, crying, and he shook from his misplaced anger and took your face in his palms.

“Shh-sh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” He apologized with a kiss on your forehead before pulling you close to his chest again. “It’s just… this is exactly what I warned you about. You should have called me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimper, calming down to the warm strokes his large hand smoothed across your back.

“Shh- it's okay… I’m here now… and I'm not gonna let any sicko touch you. I promise.” He soothed – his voice a calm and strong anchor for you to grip onto. “Come, I’ll help you pack a bag. You’ll sleep at my place tonight.”

“Okay…” You sniffle. “Thank you.”

He drove with only one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your lap, holding your hand – your bag by your feet – and you’re reminded of the first days you started dating. Sleepovers and overnight bags – his hand between your thighs on the drive.

His new place is bigger than the last – like something out of a magazine. Modern and simplistic – a little too clean, maybe, but very stylish. 

You knew he’d been climbing the ranks a couple of spots a week since you broke up with him, but you hadn’t known the new paychecks could afford something like this. It made you feel a little guilty thinking about it, then a little embarrassed, causing you to flush – standing there in guest slippers, bag in hand – your presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

“You hungry?” He asked, shaking you out of your meekness, where you looked up with a small nod and a slight hum.

He smiled, turning to the kitchen. You were so cute.

At dinner, it almost feels like old times. Izuku plays with your legs under the table even though you give him a look. He gets you to giggle after a while, surrendering to his hopeless flirting. You help him carry the dishes after you’ve finished – and even though he has a washer now, you slip right into that old routine and start filling the sink with warm water and soap. And then you stand there, the two of you – shoulder to elbow, and your chest flutters, wondering if he was always that tall.

You blushed and ducked your head, not wanting him to see you getting so flustered. You pretended to be throwing some scraps in the trash and that's when your eyes caught hold of it.

Green paisley.

You’re stunned for a moment. Still crouched down, your head hovering over the trash – face blank, body still.

“You weren’t meant to see that.” Came a voice.

Izuku stood next to you. Washcloth in hand, dripping soapsuds on the floor.

You’re breath shivers in your throat, and you drop to the ground with a gulp, looking up at him – now with building fear accenting your still shocked expression.

You blink a couple of times, trying to make sense of it but getting nowhere. “W-why?” Left you then, along with sudden tears that started slipping down your cheeks.

And it really was the only question you had. Why would he do this? Why would he torment you like that? Why would he-

“’Cause you left… And I needed a way to get you back.”

You cringed. Feeling sick – almost sick enough to turn around and throw up the entire dinner in the trashcan, all over that stupid green paisley print. But you didn’t. “You’re pathetic.” – is what you said instead.

You got up from the floor. Upset tears still rolled down your face, but you were mostly just pissed – kicking off your guest slippers, you sat down atop the shoe bench and started doing your laces.

“I’m leaving. Don’t call me. If I ever see you near my place, I’m calling the cops.” You uttered, grabbing your bag before yanking the door handle.

It didn’t budge – some strange new type of locking mechanism, which really made no sense to have on the inside.

“I’m going home, Izuku. Unlock the door.” You huffed, turning around to look at him sourly, only he’d approached you all too silently – making you gasp to see him standing right behind you.

“You’re not going anywhere…”

You’re taken to the bed, kicking and screaming – then pinned by hands thrice the size of your own beneath the big-boned body they belonged to. And now you’re really feeling scared.

Before, it had been such a distant threat – something you could pretend wasn’t there for most of the day and otherwise deal with by the soothing presence of a weapon in your house or a quick phone call to the police. But now – there was no comfort to be found anywhere.

“Shh, baby~ don’t fuss. It’s better this way.” He tried soothing, holding your fighting wrists tightly above your head in one fist. The other kept your lips shut, muffling all screams. Barring your thrashing legs beneath his own. “You need me- you couldn’t even last a single week without calling me.” He justified, hunched over you with his mouth only an inch above the knuckles draping your mouth. “But that’s alright, I don’t mind it. I always planned on taking care of you.” He cooed, rubbing his nose sweetly against yours despite you trying to shake away from it. 

You felt something rub against your thigh, and you knew all too well what it was. Fat tears streamed down your cheeks, facing the next events.

But Izuku shared none of your discomforts, rocking the bump against you with a moan slipping into his rant. “You like the new place I got, don’t you? You can stay in all day- I’d give you all you’d ever need or want- you’d be so comfortable you wouldn’t ever even want to leave-”

He sounded just like the letters.

And where it had ached you to know that he’d been the one to write them all… now it terrified you to understand how he’d meant every last word of it, too.

[candycandy00]

I’m Your Present! - A Togame x Reader Fanfic

Togame jokingly asks Santa for a cute girl he can play with all night long. He gets you. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. All characters are adults. Bondage. Use of toys (vibrators, handcuffs, blindfold, anal beads). Overstimulation. Praise kink.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Part of CandyCandy’s Kinkmas 2024!

Totally ripped from the hentai Eromame. I basically just rewrote it with Togame lol. I recommend giving it a watch! It’s very cute! And required yearly Christmas viewing for me!

It was just a joke, really. Just the Bofurin guys fooling around at their annual reunion/Christmas party. For some reason they always invited the guys from Shishitoren, and Togame always showed up. He brought drinks and passed them out, laughing when someone stuck a pair of reindeer antlers on Sakura’s head. 

Togame can’t remember who came up with the idea first, but someone joked that they should write letters to Santa. Most of the guys were half drunk by that point, so they all agreed. Some of them proudly read theirs out loud while the others cheered. Some very quickly ripped theirs up or threw them away. Maybe they asked for something a little too personal to share with the group. 

As for Togame, he wadded his up and crammed it in the pocket of his jacket, thinking he’d toss it when he got home. 

Now, standing in the kitchen of his small apartment, he fishes the crumpled letter out and smoothes it back out. He chuckles to himself as he reads it. 

“Dear Santa, please send me a cute girl to play with all night.”

He wads it up again and drops it into the trash. What a dumb joke. 

But it was at least a little sincere. Togame hasn’t had a girlfriend since his first year of college, and lately he’s been feeling a little lonely, and a lot horny. 

It’s probably because Choji of all people got himself a girlfriend earlier this year. And in true Choji fashion, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. He’s been bragging about all the sex he’s having with his hot girlfriend, and it’s only made Togame realize how much he misses being intimate with someone. 

It’s all he can think about the last few months, and he’s been jacking off like a teenager. 

He sighs as he takes off his jacket and gets ready to turn in for the night. It’s Christmas Eve, and he’ll be expected to visit his relatives tomorrow. 

Just as he starts to turn his lights off, he hears a thump on his balcony.

You squeeze past three people carrying loads of presents, your own arms full of brightly colored packages. You stack them in the pile next to the giant sleigh, there to be sorted and packed by other helpers. 

Someone calls your name, telling you to come to the office. You straighten your red, fur-trimmed dress and walk back into the main workshop. The office is a wide room in the back where the Wishlist Management team works. Three of them are behind a counter, reading over lists and letters while the rest are either sorting through last minute mail or relaying orders to the workshop. 

“Hello? Did you need me?” you ask, stepping into the room. 

The helper in the middle looks up from a crumpled piece of paper. “We have an unusual wish here. Would you be interested in granting it?”

“Me?” you ask, taking a seat across from the counter. You’re a standard helper, usually working on gift wrapping, sorting, or transporting. You don’t usually make gifts yourself, so actually granting wishes is a little out of your wheelhouse. 

The helper behind the counter looks a little embarrassed as he slides the piece of paper over to you. When you read it, you feel yourself blush. A cute girl to play with? You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean board games. 

“Who wrote this?” you ask. Sometimes letters like this arrive from teenagers, and they’re always discarded. For the Management team to be taking it seriously means it has to be a sincere wish from an adult. 

The other helper slides a photo across the counter. “Togame Jo. Twenty-eight years old. Lives alone.”

You pick up the photo and look at this Togame fellow. To your surprise, he’s extremely good looking. In fact, he’s totally your type. Midnight black hair and kind emerald eyes. Wow. 

“Of course you’re free to say no,” the other helper says. “We can ask someone else if you’re uncomfortable with-“

“I’ll do it!” you say, cutting him off. 

He looks surprised. “Are you sure? You do know what he’s asking for, right?”

You nod. “I know. I’ll get some toys from the adult department and head on out. Thank you for bringing this wish to me!”

The other helper gives you an awkward smile and wave as you walk out the door. 

You’re not sure why, but you were instantly drawn to Togame when you saw his picture. It’s not just the lovely green eyes or the gentle smile. There’s something there, hidden just beneath his calm expression. A sadness, a loneliness, that touches your heart. You want to give him the best Christmas present ever.

When Togame pulls back the curtain from the glass door to his balcony, he’s not sure what to make of the scene before him. 

Outside, on his balcony, is a young woman sprawled out as if she’d fallen from the sky. 

He hurriedly opens the door and steps out into the cold, but before he can kneel down to check on her, the woman suddenly sits up. She rubs the back of her head and straightens her Santa hat, then looks up at him. 

“Oh, hello! You’re Togame Jo, right?”

Rendered momentarily speechless by this bizarre situation, Togame nods, then extends his hand to her and helps her to her feet. 

“Come inside,” he tells her, unsure of what else to say. It’s too cold to be standing around out here, especially in that short dress she’s wearing. 

Once inside his apartment, he gets a good look at her. She’s very pretty, with a cute Santa girl dress on. It’s candy apple red with white fur trim. There’s a cloth sack hanging from one arm. She’s looking at him with bright eyes and a smile. 

“How did you end up on my balcony?” he asks, shutting the glass door and closing the curtains. 

“The express sleigh dropped me off. I think they misjudged the distance a bit though,” she replies, still smiling. 

“Express sleigh?” The words make no sense to him. She doesn’t seem drunk. Is this some kind of Christmas prank? Before she can elaborate, he asks another question. “Who are you?”

“I’m your Christmas present!” she declares, doing a little curtsy. When Togame simply stares at her with a confused expression, she stands up straight and says, “You did ask for me, right? Someone to play with all night? We got your letter.”

Togame’s stunned face reddens. How did this woman he’s never met before know about his joke of a letter to Santa?! “I didn’t mail any letter,” he says, feeling a bit dazed at this point. He never even showed it to anyone.  

“Oh, that’s okay! Letters with sincere wishes make it to us even without being mailed,” she says cheerily. 

Togame picks up on something. “Us? Who do you work for?”

She giggles. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m one of Santa’s helpers!”

Wait. Is she saying Santa is real? And they somehow received his pervy letter?! And answered it?!

“Uh, that was just a joke,” he says, mortified that anyone saw the letter. 

“Really?” she asks. Why does she sound disappointed? She holds open her sack. “What a shame. I brought all these toys for us to play with.”

Togame can’t resist peeking inside. The sack is full of sex toys! Just at a glance he can see furry red handcuffs, candy cane striped dildos, and what appears to be vibrators. He feels heat creeping into his face as he looks back at her. 

“You’re really my present from Santa?” he asks. 

She smiles so sweetly at him. “Yes! And since you specified ‘all night long’, you have me until dawn. During that time, I’m yours to do whatever you want with!”

Togame swallows. “Whatever I want?”

“Yes!” she says enthusiastically. “So do you want your present?”

The man standing before you seems hesitant. He probably didn’t expect his wish to be granted. 

Togame is even better looking in person. He’s so tall! You really hope he still wants his present. You’ve been excited since you saw his picture, and now you’re practically dripping just from thinking about the things he could do to you.  

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Are you sure about this?”

You nod emphatically. “Of course!”

He still seems a little unsure. It’s kind of endearing. But eventually he gives you a warm smile and says, “Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

Once there, you spread out the toys from your bag on his desk. He looks them over, glancing back at you every few seconds. 

“I can use anything I want?” he asks, picking up a huge dildo and sitting it back down. 

“That’s right,” you tell him, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes gravitate to the small red bullet vibrators. This night is for him, not you. 

“Any preferences?” he asks, looking you in the eyes.  

You blush a little from the heat of his gaze, but shake your head. “I like all of them!”

He picks up the padded handcuffs with red fur trim. “Even these?”

You hold your wrists together. “Just tell me if you want them in front or behind.”

He seems to think for a moment, then says, “Behind.”

You turn around and hold your arms behind your back. You hear his soft footsteps as he approaches, feel the warmth of his body as he stands right behind you. Then, there’s the touch of his hands as he gently secures the cuffs on your wrists. 

When you turn back around to face him, his cheeks are slightly pink as he looks at you. With your arms pulled back, your tits are jutting out more prominently, your dress struggling to stay up and over them. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, then slowly slides them down, pulling the straps of your dress down with them. Your breasts bounce free as the fabric slides down beneath them. Togame’s eyes widen slightly. He moves one hand up to cup your breast, then lightly squeezes. His thumb circles one nipple as his other hand gropes the other breast. 

You suck in a breath of air as he leans down and kisses your neck, his lips making a soft, wet trail down your collar bone and finally wrapping around a nipple, suckling lightly. 

He looks back to your face, seeing how flushed you’re getting, and ushers you over to the bed. He sits down on the edge of it and unbuttons his pants. 

“Can you get on your knees for me?” he asks, his tone still polite. 

You’re happy to oblige, dropping to your knees right in front of him, staring at his hands as they pull out a deliciously meaty cock. You lick your lips in anticipation, the handcuffs being the only thing stopping you from gripping his shaft immediately. You look up at him with your sweetest expression. 

“What do you want me to do, Jo?”

He blinks at the sudden use of his given name, perhaps a little flustered by how intimate you’re getting. But he recovers quickly, smiling down at you as he says, “Suck my cock, little Miss Santa.”

You don’t waste any time. You lean your face forward and begin licking the hard, thick organ, from base to tip. You make sure to get it nice and wet, coating it in spit before taking the entire thing into your mouth, letting it fill your throat. 

Togame shudders and grips your hair, his cock twitching in your mouth. Maybe he didn’t expect you to take him so far so quickly. 

For a moment, you pause, just letting him feel your throat constricting around him, your tongue massaging the underside of his dick. But eventually you have to breathe, so you pull back just to get some air, only to plunge him right back in. This time you wrap your lips around his base and bob your head, sucking and licking as you go. 

Togame groans, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you firmly in place. You couldn’t pull back enough to let his cock slip out of your mouth if you wanted to. But why would you ever want that? He’s positively tasty, and throbbing so nicely. Such delectable precum is leaking from his tip, sliding down your throat. 

When he reaches his limit, he pulls your head back, and you open your mouth wide, letting the tip of his pulsing cock rest on your extended tongue. As he cums, his entire hot sticky load lands on your tongue and in your mouth, filling it full. 

After savoring it for a moment, you swallow it all, then lick your lips clean. Togame stares for several seconds, his face a little red. You know what you want from him, but you won’t ask directly. Instead, you look up through your lashes and ask, “Did I do good?”

He takes the hint, patting your head and saying, “Yeah, you did really good. Such a good girl for me.”

The words leave you dripping. You squirm on your knees, rubbing your thighs together. Your hands are still behind your back, your dress still pulled down to nearly your waist. 

Togame stands up and goes to the desk to get something else to play with. When he returns, he helps you to your feet and then stands behind you. He reaches around and ties a deep red blindfold around your head, blocking out your vision. You draw in a sharp breath. This is getting exciting!

He guides you back to the bed, and you hear the mattress squeak as he sits down again. Then he turns you around to face away from him and pulls you into his lap. 

You listen carefully, trying to figure out what he’s going to do next. The mystery is making you nervous in the best way possible. You hear only faint sounds you can’t identify, then you feel something smooth and firm touch each of your nipples. Is this…?

A clicking sound, and then one that’s very familiar to you, one you’ve been hoping to hear. The soft hum of the small bullet vibrators! At the same moment, you feel them vibrating against your tender skin, making you automatically jerk on the cuffs. Togame must be holding them to your tits. 

You’re making little breathy sounds, not quite moans but close, leaning back against his hard chest, feeling the cozy fabric of his shirt on your bare back. He’s so warm. 

One vibrator leaves your breast, and you feel him sliding the bottom of your dress up your thighs and above your hips. Thankfully you came prepared and wore no panties tonight. 

He pulls one leg away from the other, and you move the other leg, eagerly spreading for him. Then you feel his fingers on you, stroking your pussy, slipping between the folds to smear your wetness around. 

“You’re soaked already,” he says into your ear. The feeling of his breath so close causes goosebumps to form on your neck. 

“I have been since I got here,” you say back, your voice shaky as his finger circles your clit but doesn’t touch it. 

“Really?” he asks. “Do you grant a lot of wishes like this?”

“This is my first one,” you answer. 

His voice is like a purr. “What kind of work do you usually do?”

His finger is so close to hitting the jackpot. You squirm a bit in his lap. “Ahh… I usually… wrap presents… and sort them…”

You hear him chuckle under his breath. “So why did you decide to do this?”

“Th-they showed me your picture… and you looked sad. I just wanted to give you a merry Christmas!”

There’s a pause, where he stops moving for a moment, then you hear his voice again: “I want to give you a merry Christmas too.”

Immediately after, you feel the vibrator pressed against your clit, pulsing wildly at maximum power. You cry out, your body jerking with the sudden explosive pleasure. 

You cum instantly, trembling in his arms, but he’s still holding the vibrator to your extremely sensitive clit. With your hands cuffed behind you and the blindfold on, it makes your sense of touch so much stronger, and you feel truly helpless in a way that thrills you. 

“Ahh! T-too much!” you whine, reflexively trying to scoot back. But the vibrator is relentless, and Togame’s grip on you is firm. 

“You’re so cute when you cum,” he says, his voice dripping honey. “Show me again.”

The words make your already overstimulated clit throb, and only a few minutes later, you’re cumming again. Your entire body is shaking as you moan, your hands pulling at the cuffs. 

“There you go, being so good,” he murmurs, finally pulling the vibrator away and wrapping his arms around you. He holds you tight until your body stops trembling, then eases you off his lap. He unties the blindfold and lets it slip from your face, but he leaves the cuffs on. 

You look up at him. “What toy are we trying next?”

He walks over to the desk and looks over the items, then holds up a long anal bead stick. The beads are in alternating colors, red and green, and made of silicone. “This looks fun,” he says. 

You climb onto the bed, carefully since your hands are behind you, and look at him over your shoulder. “Come play with me,” you say, wiggling your ass. Your dress is just a piece of wadded fabric around your waist at this point, leaving most of your body exposed. 

Togame steps over and gets onto the bed behind you, pushing your top half forward until your face is pressing into the pillow, your ass in the air. He nudges your knees apart, and you feel him drip lube over your ass, rubbing it in and spreading it over both your holes. You hear him squeezing more out, probably onto the beaded stick, and then you feel the tip of the stick pressing against your little puckered hole. 

When the first bead slides in, you gasp. You’ve never tried this toy before, but you’ve always wanted to. The second bead slides in, then the third. There’s no pain, but the sensation is strange. Two more beads go in, and your breaths are coming faster, your heart racing.

Togame watches his adorable Santa girl twitch and quiver as he pushes more beads into her, causing her dripping pussy to clench and flutter. He’s waited as long as he can. He needs to be buried in this pretty little cunt right now. 

He positions himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip along her slit to let her know what’s coming. Her hands, cuffed behind her, are balled into fists. When ready, he pushes in, going all the way to the hilt and hearing her gasp. She’s so unbelievably tight, he almost gasps too. Maybe it’s because of the beads, but she’s clamping down on him so well he can hardly stand it. 

When he starts thrusting, she makes the sweetest sounds, little cries and moans that dance into his ears, occasionally whimpering his name. 

“Taking me so well,” he says, his hands gripping her hips to keep her in place as he plunges in and out. “Good, good girl.”

She feels so fucking good around him, so soft and warm and pliable. And she’s taking him so deep with no complaints. It’s like she was made for him. 

He reaches down and grips the handle of the bead stick, then begins pulling it out by a few beads before pushing it back in. Her pussy clenches, as if it’s trying to hold onto his dick forever. 

All at once, he pulls the whole stick out in one go. She cries out, her back arching and her mouth hanging open. He thinks she just came again, and it’s making her squeeze him impossibly hard. 

He can’t hold back any longer. This pussy is just too good. With a groan, he cums, shooting everything he has into the deepest parts of her. When he eventually pulls out, gobs of his cum leak out of her, making a lurid sight to see. 

They both pant for a few moments, then he uncuffs her hands and helps her turn over.  

She’s gazing up at him with her big, pretty eyes. “What do you want to play with next?”

She looks exhausted, spent, but she’s still willing to keep going. He’d specified “all night” after all. 

“Let’s take a quick break,” he says. 

They sit beside each other on the bed, and he asks the question that’s been burning in his brain for a while now. 

“After tonight is over, will I ever see you again?”

She looks up at him. “You can if you wish for it!” She seems happy he asked. 

He smiles. “Maybe next year I’ll wish for a wife.”

She flushes, looking away to hide her embarrassment. “That sounds lovely,” she says. 

He wraps one arm around her. “You’ve made this the best Christmas of my life.”

She snuggles closer. “And you’ve done the same for me.”

The two of them sit there a little while, just enjoying each other’s presence, before going back to enjoying each other’s presents.

Tag List:

@coldluminarykoala @atomicweaselpaperapricot @chocoyanchan @calculust-prime

[servicpop]

Which one of your oc reacts from the worst to the better one when s/o actually break up with them?

Make it nsfw? I wanna see some s/o getting pinned down and got punish lol

cw : slight non-con(?) and my ocs might be a bit toxic . . .

Adrien definitely acts the worst. He's obsessed with you remember ? The moment you go to him and tell him that you don't want to continue this little game of yours and you want him to leave you alone . . . sure , he'll respect you for a bit. But after a day or so and you're not texting him , not even looking at him , he'll go back to his old ways. Skipping classes , getting into fights and he swears he's going to crack the guy you smiled at's skull apart. He fully goes insane and after a week , he's blowing up your phone , chasing down your friends who are honestly surprised that he even knew of your existence. And when you finally agree to see him again , he's tearing off his clothing and pushing you up against the wall not even a foot away from the front door , groping at that soft flesh he missed so much. His words are an unintelligible mess of 'please take me back' and 'I'll fucking kill anyone you talk to.' Man is crazy about you !! He'll fuck you right outside the bedroom , pushing you up against the wall and pound into you because he's missed you way too much to wait any longer !

Vallen simply doesn't let it happen. You come up to his office with a nervous look on your face and when you spill the news he glances up through his reading glasses ( his eyes are getting sore from looking over so many documents >< ) and simply hums, curling his finger at you, instructing you to walk over to him. The moment you do , he pulls you onto his lap, gripping at your thighs as he stands up , letting your back fall across his desk. He's cruelly slow, pulling out all the way before slamming his hips against yours so hard that his pens rattle on his desk. "Found someone better than me?" He'd mutter before slowly pulling out just to ram himself back in. "I doubt it." He's too mean about it, slapping your thighs everytime you try and justify your reasons why you'd break up with him ! He's rich, gives you everything, loves and cares for you, why would you want to break up with him ?

Cole accepts it fully. He acts like a kicked puppy when you break the news to him. At first he'll ask you what he did wrong , if you weren't happy with him , if it was your job that make you break up with him. He tries his best to understand , especially since you're his first ever relationship with a man ! He won't stop going to your shows , won't stop sending you letters and flowers , but he does it all without showing his face ! He thinks you wouldn't want to see his face so he still shows his love through gifts and notes. It's not long before you cave in , all the gifts and letters still marked with paw prints and his signature at the bottom just pile up in your room and you miss him. Miss his caramel smile too much. Unlike the others , Cole doesn't jump to sex , he takes it slow by cuddling you , the limit of intimacy being kisses on your stomach ( he'll still believe you hate him until you reassure him 200x )

Callahan is exempt from this since he was never really in a relationship with you , but ! If he doesn't see you for an extended period of time ( basically breaking up ) he'll work even harder to track you down , asking for leads , retracing steps and finding you back at that motel where you two always seem to end up after every confrontation. He'll put you in cuffs , blabbering on some lie about how he'll put you in jail but just ends up stuffing your head in the pillow and pounding into your ass like he missed you ( which he did )

[j-the-latter-gay-saint]

Rating artistic depictions of Captain Moroni by how hot he is

Captain Moroni Raises the Title of Liberty, Arnold Friberg

A classic! Not bad looking, but there is a certain something about him that makes me want to know his whereabouts on January 6, 2021. 5/10

For the Blessings of Liberty, Scott M. Snow

Strangely enchanting, glaringly caucasian as he is. Somehow I am put in mind of sapphic lady knights like Joan of Arc and Cassandra Pentaghast and Chappel Roan. At the same time he looks like a regular from the Hallmark movie casting stables playing younger than his age. 6/10

Moroni and the Title of Liberty, Clark Kelley Price

Look at that bicep! Look at that tease of thigh! Look at that beard! But WHY does your armor look so Roman?? 7/10

Title of Liberty, Ken Corbett

Oh this guy was DEFINITELY at the capitol. 2/10

A Letter from Pahoran, Jerry Thompson

Another classic! ...Tell me I'm not the only one who sees "child of Dennis Quaid and DeForest Kelley." It's...it's odd. I don't know. The end result is Just Some Guy. 4/10

Come Forth, Walter Rane

You can't fool me! I know Matt Mercer when I see him! Not his best angle, though, especially with the strain from yelling. 6/10 (*Note: this score is not applicable to Matt Mercer himself.)

Captain Moroni and the Title of Liberty, Larry Winborg

The first time I saw this painting was a small, slightly off-colored paper cutout on a bulletin board at church, and I thought Moroni's face was much rounder and I was delighted at the prospect of a Moroni who looked a little chubby, known bear enjoyer that I am. Alas, I was wrong. But he's still quite handsome. 8/10

Young Captain Moroni, Lester Yocum

Oh, hello! An artist who remembered Moroni was in his twenties when he was appointed to his position! See that determination in those lovely dark eyes! Oh, and the curly hair! 8/10

Morianton's Maidservant and Captain Moroni, James H. Fullmer

First of all, we love a man who respects women. See that kindness in his expression. He is so strong, but being so gentle with his strength. Second of all: Daddy. He's got MUSCLE, and not in the bodybuilder way like some of these other paintings. Look at that nose just made for kissing, that hair just made for brushing strands out of his face, that beard just made for gently scratching your cheek. 10/10 PLEASE come sweep me off my feet and demand better of my government.

Send me more...Captain Moronis? Captains Moroni? Copies of Captain Moroni. And I'll rate them, too!

[hxt1b]

how much you own me

ex-boyfriend Gojo x reader

-> CW: ex-boyfriend Gojo, angsty, you both teach at jujutsu high, Gojo is an idiot, Geto is flirty but that is inconsequential [I just love him] Gojo is possessive and a bit whiney, fluffy near the end. MDNI, smut warning [hand jobs, fingering, finger sucking, it’s all kinda soft tbh, nipple sucking, penetration, a lot of kisses – so many kisses, bathroom sex, public sex, mention of form of protection {IUD} I apologize if I missed anything]  

-> WC: 2.9k

-> Masterlist | Prompt List [send me requests!]

-> A/N: Okay so this is a little cliché, maybe not the best written, and totally self-indulgent. I wanted an ex-boyfriend Gojo begging you to take him back, and some make up(ish) sex and so I wrote it. I hope you guys like it. As usual please ignore any grammar that is incorrect, I tried my best.

"When I'm all by myself and the drink doesn't help. Take 'em down from the shelf and I'm reminded, I keep fighting wars in my head with the miles of regret 'cause I had every letter but now, I cant find the words to say."

– The Vamps

“Don’t walk away from me.” His voice was even, he never really yelled. That was one of the first things you’d liked about Gojo, his effortless calm. Everything was easy for him, so it was rare for him to be anything but calm. The only things that rattled Gojo were things he couldn’t control. Lack of control was not a state of being for Gojo Satoru.

“Watch me.” You replied turning away from him. He caught your wrist and pulled you back towards his chest. 

“Stop.” He gritted out, his voice wasn’t as even anymore but he wasn’t yelling. He still thought he had some control. Jokes on him. 

“Or what?” You asked, your tone taunting. Your head tilted to the side as you glared up at your ex. His pale blue eyes were hidden behind glasses, but this close you could see them narrow at you through the tinted glass. 

You scoffed at him before yanking out of his hold. 

 “Leave me alone Gojo.” 

Your footsteps echoed down the hall as you walked away from him. Your hands shook at your side. A couple of steps, and you’d be outside. Outside the school. Outside Gojo’s bubble. Out. 

“I can’t.” 

His words hit your back, piercing up your skin, and crawling over your mind. You saw red.

“You can’t?” You asked. Your steps halted just as you got to the door. “You fucking can’t!?” your voice rose as you spun to face him. He was still in the spot you’d left him. 

“You broke up with me!” You yelled, “You stopped talking to me! Three months Gojo and now you wanna talk to me like that didn’t fucking happen. Well too bad, I don’t give a fuck about you anymore.” 

That was a blatant lie. You cared a lot and seeing him was hard, him touching you was brutal. You needed to get out of this hallway. Away from him. 

He said your name as you turned away from him a second time, a soft word floating in the hallway. Your blood boiled as you stomped out the door. 

He followed, “Please baby.” His hand grabbed your arm again, but he didn’t pull. This time his grip just held you in place. 

“Do not call me that, and do not touch me.” You yanked your arm out of his hand for the last time and walked away. 

~

Gojo was drunk. 

“Youreanidiot.” Geto slurred. “I said that back then too remember?” He was waving his glass in Gojo’s face. 

“Shut up you drunk.” 

“Hey, I’m only drunk because I’m a good best friend.” 

Gojo took a large swig of his drink, the bitter taste coated his throat, a deep burn blazing down his chest. He closed his eyes and let his head fall on the table. The room was spinning. He told Geto as much, but Geto mumbled something back before getting up and leaving Gojo alone at the table.

“I need some space.” 

Space was stupid. Space was dumb. Why had he asked for it? What did he learn? Oh, he learned something alright, he learned what your face looked like when your heart broke. Gojo banged his head against the table once, before letting out a deep groan. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his hands fumbling the device as he brought it to his face. Only lifting his body half up in his seat, that’s all he could manage. He thumbed through his contacts and found your name. He called you. Once, twice, three times. Of course, you didn’t answer him so he texted. 

im don’t need spac e I jst needu. 

Im sn idiot. 

Im sorry. 

But of course, you never replied, you never read them. 

 “Oh, Satoru don’t text her,” Geto whined as he sat down in his seat again beside Gojo. 

“I’m pathetic.” 

“That you are.” Geto swung his arm around Gojo’s shoulder pulling him into his side. “But it's okay.” 

~

“He really thinks he’s something huh?” your best friend asked from your left. You were sat on a bar stool your first drink, following three shots, in your hand. You’d only taken a sip from it before spotting Gojo leaning against a wall. His gaze geared on you. 

“He really thinks he can just get you back?” Utahime asked from your right. Her presence was the reason you three were out today at this club, she was visiting for the weekend. 

“He sent some drunk messages last night.” You said looking away from him and pulling your phone out to show your friends. The two leaned into to look at your screen. Your best friend snickered. 

“Sad.” 

“Pathetic.” 

“Ah yes, that he is.” Geto’s voice churned in. Your eyes moved up to take in his smiling face, he was leaning in as well, his eyes on your phone. 

You pulled your phone to your chest, forcing Geto to turn his smile to you. 

“Have you heard of personal space?” You asked. Your distaste for Gojo unsurprisingly extended to his best friend.  

His only response was a soft breathy chuckle and a step back. 

“Hey now,” He started throwing his hands up, “I don’t think I’m the enemy.” 

“Why are you two here?” Your best friend asked, Geto turned his head to her, his eyes trailing down her body before he replied. 

“Isn’t it obvious babe?” He asked leaning towards her. 

“It’s pathetic.” You muttered. 

“I thought we already went over that,” Geto replied his hands disappearing into his pockets his eyes still on your best friend. 

“Go away.” Your best friends muttered turning away from him. You could tell she was flustered by his gaze. 

You rolled your eyes at Geto’s antics before quickly downing your drink.

You took Utahime and your best friend’s hands, “Come let’s go dance.” You pulled them both towards the crowded dance floor, the bass of whatever song was playing thumped through your body as you settled into a spot and began to sway to the music. The couple of shots you’d taken before realizing Gojo was also in the building were running rampant through your bloodstream now, aided by the heat of the bodies around you. You laughed as the song changed and you danced pushing your ex out of your head and letting yourself go to the music. You were having fun despite Gojo and that’s why you didn’t mind when hands snaked around your waist and pulled you away from your friends. You ground your hips back into the stranger liking the way his hands trailed up your side, his head curling into the side of your neck. He said something but you didn’t hear him, your eyes had found Gojo again his head was turned in your direction, and you knew he’d been watching you the whole time. You could feel it. Tipping the corner of your mouth up at him you lifted a hand up and threaded it into the stranger’s hair. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” You let him press wet kisses into your skin, your eyes stuck on Gojo, your hips still moving against the stranger. Your brain streamlined on your ex, you got to a dazed place where the hands on your body were Gojo’s, and so were the lips pressing heated kisses only stopping to harshly nip at your skin. Your eyes fluttered at the thought and when you gained your focus again Gojo was gone. 

“Fuck off.” A voice growled to your left, a hand grabbing at the wrist that was pulling at strands of hair. 

“Excuse me-” The guy was cut off as Gojo yanked you into his chest. His glasses slid down his nose as he glared at the other man. 

“Gojo what the fuck.” You struggled against his grip, but his hold was strong, and he took you through the crowd towards the restroom, your body pulled into his chest the entire way. Once inside the bathroom, he pushed you towards the sink and mirror and turned to lock the door behind him. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked. He didn’t say anything, your words hung heavy in the air as he stared at you. His gaze was heavy, his blue eyes peering at you. The only movement was him taking his glasses off, he tucked them into his back pocket and took you in. Trailing his eyes over your body, heat trailing everywhere he looked. 

You narrowed your eyes at him and scoffed. 

“Let me out Gojo.” You said motioning for him to move from the door. 

“You know,” he started and took a step towards you, “three months, four months a year. Baby get it through your head. You are mine.”  

His voice was low, rubbing against your heart pulling at your sanity and causing a deep rage to crawl over you. 

“You broke up with me!” You yelled. 

“And I regret it.” Gojo said, “And that only confirms how much I need you. How much you own me.” 

“No, fuck that and fuck you.” You said and moved to shove him out of the way so you could leave. He grabbed both your wrist as you tried to shove him and spun you into the door. Your back hit it hard as Gojo crowded into you, your arms pinned on both sides of your head by his hands, his lips on yours in an instant. 

The kiss was deep, heavy, and angry. You bit at his lip, and he moaned into your mouth. His tongue met yours and you pushed back with the same fervour he displayed. You were going to implode, his touch, his mouth was too much. You knew, ever since that day in the hallway when he grabbed your wrist, you’d known. If he touched you again it would be too much. He knew it too. 

You moaned against him as he moved his thigh between your legs, your body had been rocking against his as you kissed. You felt a sense of needing to run as you moved against him but the feeling left, overwhelmed by Gojo. 

“I broke up with you because I’m an idiot,” He muttered his lips still touching yours. Your eyes were closed, and your breathing shallow, your hips still rocking ever so slightly against him, but you let him talk. “One more chance, please.” 

“The great Gojo Satoru begging.” You whispered back. 

“For you. Yes.” He didn’t even sound ashamed. Just desperate. You relented and kissed him again. He let go of your wrists, letting his fingers tangle into your hair. Your own hands went around him, pulling at the soft strands at his neck as you got lost in him. It was familiar and good, you’d wanted this so bad. Would it be so bad to give him another chance? 

Your hands left his hair and trailed down his torso and up his shirt pushing it up as you felt the ridges of his abs letting your nails dig into the hard muscle. Gojo hissed into your mouth but didn’t stop you. So, you kept moving your hands, lower this time, fingers brushing his skin as you went. Your fingers stopped at his waistband, he sucked on your tongue lightly as you both waited to see if you would do it. It didn’t take you long to decide, yes you would. 

Your fingers moved to undo his pants and grab at his erection. You pulled away from his mouth and looked down, the skin of his cock was heated, and the head was swollen and red, you licked your lips as you skimmed your thumb over the slit. Gojo hissed again before letting out a soft moan as you did it again. You brought your hand to your mouth spitting into it before palming him, moving your hand against his heated skin, watching his face as he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against yours. 

“I don’t deserve this.” He muttered. 

“No.” you muttered, “you don’t.” But he was still getting it, he was still getting you, that thought pushed him to move, his hand pushing up your shirt and bra palming your boob before flicking at your nipple. You sucked in a breath at the action but kept your hand moving on him. He lowered his head and took your nipple into his mouth sucking on you before biting at it. You let your head fall back against the door as Gojo worked your nipple. Your hips still grinding into his thigh, and your hand still working his cock. 

“Satoru,” You moaned, eye fluttering shut. 

“Satoru,” He muttered back forcing your eyes to open and look at him. He was peering up at you with a cocky grin on his face, his mouth red from sucking on you. But you were beyond yourself to be mad at it, yeah you moaned his name, his first name, so what? 

“I need your fingers.” 

“Happily.” He answered, and let his fingers run down your quivering stomach to the band of your pants, he quickly undid them and instantly his fingers were on you. Two fingers circled your clit heating your blood further, you were arching against the door, he took your nipple back into his mouth forcing your hand to hesitate on his cock as he worked you. 

You moaned his name softly again before saying “More.” He brought his head back up to yours pressing your lips into a wet kiss as he sank two fingers into you. You sucked in a breath as he began to pump his fingers. His lips moved against yours forcefully as he picked up his pace, your hand stilling on his cock as he did so. He grabbed your hand intertwining his fingers and pulled it away from him letting you focus on your pleasure as he fucked you with his fingers. 

A heated bundle of energy built up in the pit of your stomach moving down as Gojo added another finger stretching you further, pulling louder moans from you as he did. 

“Satoru, I’m going to cum.” You mumbled into his lips. 

“Then come baby.” He muttered back, curling his fingers into your g-spot, and finally tipping you over. You saw white as you arched into his chest further, your nipples rubbing into his chest, your head rolling to the side allowing Gojo to dip his head into the crook of your neck and suck on your heated skin. His fingers worked you through your orgasm prolonging the intense heat that coursed through you until you were panting against him, your hands shaking, and your mind muddled. 

“The sounds you make are mine, the face you make is mine, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.” He said this lowly, his head dipping so that his eyes were locked with yours, “Proving to you that you own me as much as I own you.” He finished it off by pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth as he pulled his fingers from you. “Turn around babe.” 

You listened and spun in his hold, your back arching so that your ass was against his groin instantly. His left hand coming up beside your head on the door, and his right holding tightly onto your waist. 

“Let’s take these off.” He said and pushed at your pants, you helped him get rid of your pants and underwear, “Are you ready for me pretty girl?”

You nodded, your breath shallow still, your skin heated and your brain stuck on all things Gojo Satoru. He pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck as he brought his cock to move through your folds. You mewled when his cock head passed over your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” He groaned, “I wasn- this isn’t how I wanted this to-” He stumbled over his words his head bowed into your shoulder. His hips were still moving against you though, his cock still dragging through your wet folds. 

“It’s okay, I’ve still got my IUD.” You let your arm turn over his head, your hand digging into his hair so that you could pull his head to yours. “Fuck me Satoru.” You whispered, your lips grazing the side of his mouth. He groaned and lined up his cock with your entrance. 

“Every day baby. You’ve owned me every day since I’ve met you. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” He said this as he slowly sank into you, every word hitting something deep inside you as he bottomed out. You only managed to moan his name. 

“I know.” He mumbled before kissing you again and began to slowly pump into you. Every single one of your senses was filled with him, you were living and breathing Gojo at that moment as he moved against you, his cock dragging against your fluttering walls. His moans filled your ears mixing with yours, joining the sloppy sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

You couldn’t think properly as he moved his hand from your waist to your mouth, slipping in past your lips. You sucked on them moaning as you did, when he pulled them from your mouth a strand of spit still connected you to his fingers. He darted down to your clit deftly moving the two fingers over it to draw you closer to your second orgasm. 

“Cum baby. Cum with me.” He breathed. Overwhelmed, you came. Breaking apart on his throbbing cock, you spasmed in his hold, his other hand leaving the door to gather you against his chest as he continued to fuck you through the orgasm his fingers still moving against your clit. His name repeatedly fell from your lips as you saw white sparks floating around your vision, your entire body heated and spent. He followed soon after, finishing inside you with your name on his lips. 

“Prove it Satoru. Don’t fuck me over this time.” You said through heavy breaths. 

“I won’t” 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.  

You smiled as you both took your time calming down and getting back to reality. 

~hxt1b, feb 11 2024

[keto-keyes]

The Slytherins at Valentines

Imagine/preference

In celebration of the day of love, I have taken it upon myself to commit to paper how I imagine the Slytherins would celebrate Valentines with their S/O

Mattheo Riddle:

Mattheo would probably act like he'd forgotten until right at the last minute before it was time to head to sleep for the night

and practically dump a whole-ass pile of presents on his S/O's head.

definitely expects you to cuddle w/ him

he's the little spoon obviously

would constantly whisper things like:

"You thought I forgot, didn't you?"

"...Dumbass thought I'd forget the best day ever"

If you correct him, you lose your gifts

If you don't, smug ass bf forever

Choice is yours

He never really shows how touch-starved he is until Valentines Day, when he can snuggle with you and kick all the others out of your dorm without hearing you complain

not that you ever do

Basically, cuddles and rich-man benefits from the king of puppy eyes.

Tom Riddle:

This man... he is so romantic about how he spoils his S/O

A single rose, or a ring or some other piece of jewellery

Watch out, he'll present it at breakfast with a modest little card and expect you to wear it all day without fail.

might even buy you a crown fitting for the queen of the slytherins

doesn't like PDA, so none of that

Subtle smiles in your direction, maybe even a blown kiss

will love exchanging coded love letters with you like the little nerd he is

if you expected him to be cold like usual, he's not

other kids get time off from being victims, he's moony about you for a change

probably even brings small little things he finds to give you in-between classes

a feather, a dropped quill, some cookies he "borrowed" from some useless gryffindors

Mattheo couldn't stop teasing him after he caught Tom plucking nice-smelling herbs from the potions closet

You might need to stop him killing his brother

he's a gentleman, alright?

Theodore Nott:

Italians know how to Valentines Day

the saint is literally FROM Italy

and theo is rich. So....

Presents. lots of presents

anything you need

kisses also. lots of kisses

mans really loves kissing you. he'll never say no to PDA

staring at you for HOURS

dude has a stare like looking into the ocean - beautiful but somehow also makes you self-conscious

whispering to you in italian

even if you can't understand him, you know he's either complimenting you or whispering blasphemy about whichever first year last crossed his path

he likes to sit you on his lap when he can and rub your thighs or massage your shoulders

shoulder and neck kisses when you do

he doesn't like to be too far away from you, like any good clingy bf

will definitely need you to tell him to stop holding your hand or your waist before he does

maybe needs reminding multiple times. especially with other guys around

double the soft boy on the day of love

Draco Malfoy:

expect this boy to become very clingy

he's attention-starved, remember?

but he will give his S/O lots of gifts and presents to celebrate love

cards, messages via flying paper crane, roses, rings, ripped out passages of books from the forbidden section of the library, all the romantic gifts

he prefers to give little pecks on your cheeks when he can, but if not, definitely hand kisses.

i kid you not, he will get down on one knee with his usual gentlemanly demeanour just to kiss your knuckles

give this poor boy lots of kisses please

he needs them

play with his hair, let him be the little spoon

not that he isn't usually

he just won't let any of the others know that

holding hands

terrorising first-years

sending cutesy love letters to one another without the professor knowing

or zipping them right past mcgonagal's ear, if you live on the wild side

either way, he's so soft and squishy

Blaise Zabini:

i have come to inform you that this man will skip school for you

you're not feeling potions today, rather go out on the town? done

he does not care

you both get good grades anyway

all the sweets

sugar is his love language, and, funnily enough, your pet name

letting you wear his jackets

kisses. give this man some kisses

holding hands whenever you can.

i headcanon his hands are huge.

like giant sized

him smiling to himself whenever he sees you

"How did I manage to score this little sugarcube?"

yep, another sugar-themed pet name

you are like a little flower he needs to preserve (an icing flower, if you catch my drift)

another member of the touch-starved trio

he can do your hair for you (if you have long hair), but ONLY if you sit on his lap

this man knows french. and danish

did you know danish is one of the most beautiful languages on earth? well, you will soon

he likes muttering how pretty you are in danish. and how much he loves you

also, mans is a legit beanpole boy

he will rest his head on yours. he is just that tall

anyway, he loves you in 3 languages fam

Pansy Parkinson:

probably wants to make sure you both have the same number of presents

you'll always have one more than her somehow. like, how does someone forget they bought you the cat (or some other household pet) you always wanted?

isn't happy until she can constantly see a smile adorning your features

like Blaise, she will do your hair for you (if you have hair)

she buys THE NICEST necklaces and bracelets. not even Tom can compare

she can also speak french, but she'll only open up and start speaking it when you tell her you love her in your native language

will find pretty flowers to put in your hair or behind your ear so you can constantly smell of that flower

holding hands. there is no excuse

showing you off to the boys, making them pretend to have never met you before

no-one is allowed to make you smile except her. so, please stay away from Mattheo and Enzo for the day

will contain her anger and short temper for you

she's the little spoon.

you must comfort her. dealing with 6 boys everyday is tough

you're like royalty for a day, deal with it

Lorenzo Berkshire:

cheesy gifts. no cap

small flowers out of decorative bouquets? check

a flower or butterfly pin? yessir

constant hand-holding

teasing you

lip bites, squeezing your thighs, twirling strands of either of your hair

he is a major flirt, contrary to popular belief

he thinks you are the most adorable thing ever

loves to tell you how gorgeous you look

master gentleman in action, ladies and gents

singing cheesy love songs

mans will serenade you

he is the big spoon, for reasons you may never know

perhaps he likes holding his world in his arms

that's right folks, you are his WORLD

and nothing will stop him from telling you that as you nap in his arms instead of going to potions