#trying to convince her to get a tattoo of one of the drawings

[crepuscular-haze]

filled with joy (my mom remembered how she used to flip through the Silver Palate Cookbook as a kid during breakfast, so she got out our copy and started going through it pointing out the illustrations that fascinated her and the dishes she wanted to try and the words she would mispronounce)

[zvdvdlvr]

from the club

Derek’s wolf whistle made you roll your eyes and try to slip into your seat without drawing too much attention. “Damn, mama,” he sang teasingly, eyeing you up and down.

“Derek Morgan! I ought to-“

“Whoa!”

You glared at Spencer, trying to ifnore the way his eyes trailed over your cleavage. “It’s like you guys have never even been in the presence of a female before,” you snark sarcastically. Secretly, though, you feel complimented that such aesthetically pleasing people thought you looked good.

Emily, Jennifer, Penelope, and Rossi were later than Hotch surprisingly. Aaron strode in next, laying a stack of files on the table. He sat down at his regular spot and turned to make conversation until the other arrived when he turned and saw you. His lips drew thinly over his face as he watched you reach over the table to grab a file. He swallowed and averted his eyes from you when you sat back in your seat. Hotch felt like a pervert and averted his mind to the more pressing matter. Dead bodies, knives, murder, he repeated to himself- trying to draw blood away from his crotch.

J.J., Penelope, and Emily arrived next. “Coffee for you all, my precious gems!” Penny sang, placing the team’s favorite brews in front of them. After she placed yours down her eyes gleamed and she raised her eyebrows. “Did you call-“

“Penelope!” You hollered, turning away from the red-head with a laugh. 

She just giggled and wiggled her eyebrows. As Emily took her place beside you, she leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’m no better than the men here, y/n. You look hot.” 

You swatted her away and waited for J.J. to start the briefing. Emily snickered beside you.

There was really nothing professional about being called into work wearing low-rise jeans and a lacey tank top. But it wasn’t your fault- some of your college friends had stopped in the city and wanted to go to the club and wouldn’t take no as an answer.

Rossi showed up right before Hotch said his favorite phrase (read: “wheels up in 30”). You collected your file and started out of the room.

“Good lo- y/n!”

You whipped around to see Penelope rushinf towards you. “Wh-What?”

“You’ve surprised me more times today than I thought possible, darling girl. Turn around! I didn’t know you had ink!” 

You breathed out a sigh of relief and tried to ignore the feeling of her cold fingers tracing over the black ink just above your jeans. “I have some on the mid back too,” you said quietly.

“Impressive,” Rossi- of all people- hummed. “One of my ex wives roped me into getting a matching tattoo with her. The pain was somethinf else and the aftercare was hell. Rookie, here has a high pain tolerance.” He patted your practically bare shoulder and walked by without another word.

Emily purred lowly as she walked by, laughing at the way you flipped her off in return.

“You know, Jeffery Dahmer didn’t consume people that had tattoos… He said that the ‘tattoos made the meat taste like… shit’,” Reid spouted.

The way Spencer paused before saying shit was endearing. Maybe it was your attraction to nerds, but you felt particularly flattered at the weight of his gaze on you. “That’s interesting, Spencer,” you replied quietly. “Did you know the oldest recorded tattoo ink recipe required insect eggs?”

Spencer just hummed.

“I- uh,” Aaron cleared his throat. You stepped back from Penelope’s hands. “I imagine you have more professional attire?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yes, Hotch. I’m really sorry, my friends convinced me to go out with them, you know, and I-“

Hotch chuckled and held his hands up. “It’s okay, y/n. What you do on your own time is your business,” he said.

You wrung your hands. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“No problem, y/n.” Hotch started to walk away and you felt Derek’s arm wrap around your shoulder. “Nice ink,” he called back to you. 

“I’ll see you on the plane, y/n,” Spencer told you with a wave. You smiled back at him and watched him run a hand through his hair as he walked away.

“Lover boy’s gotta thing for you, y/n,” Derek told you, a shit eating grin on his face. “And Hotch too, if I took a guess. I think you made the old man pop a bo-“

“Derek Morgan!”

You shoved him off of you and tried to ignore his gleeful laughter.

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 9.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of forceful behaviour towards women, bad family dynamics

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n has no idea what is happening. Currently, there are two elder women around her who undressed her, redressed her and now are pulling her hair and painting her face. And by painting her face, it must be clarified that they don't put pretty delicate makeup on her but that they draw bright red lines on her face, arms, and legs. It looks like full-body war paint, y/n thinks.

Also, y/n is not convinced by the outfit they put her in. It's a two-piece. A loose neck holder top ends only a few inches under her boobs. She's also wearing a floor-length skirt. However, she's not sure if the word 'skirt' fits the piece of clothing around her hips. Two long pieces of fabric are strung in multiple hold chains that sit tightly around her hips. One piece covers her backside, the other the front side.

The squishy part of her tummy and her belly button, as well as her arms and legs, remain uncovered. Y/n usually feels comfortable in her body but it's a bit too revealing. At least for this weather. Also, she's a bit scared her butt cheeks can be seen when she's walking.

She tries not to think about it too hard since the two women working on her hair are wearing similar clothes. It seems as if this is normal for women around here, even if they are a gazillion years old.

The women don't speak to her. Also, they don't speak to each other.

When Katsuki left her alone with them, y/n felt a bit relieved since this was the first female company she had in a long while. But now she just feels awkward.

The women braid her hair and pin it up in a lavish updo which y/n finds very pretty. When they're done, they decorate her hair with golden hairpins and put necklaces around her neck that look similar to Katsuki's. They also want to put earrings on her but y/n doesn't have her ears pierced so they leave them as they are.

Absently, y/n massages her earlobes. She wonders if they'd like to pierce them. They have multiple piercings and also Katsuki wears earrings. She's also positive that she saw men with piercings in their noses and other places in their faces yesterday.

She shudders. It's against the beliefs of her people. Her people believe that one is born by nature's divine design and altering your body by piercinging or tattooing it, is a heavy insult to the great being of things. Some even refuse makeup and say it's not how nature wants them to look. Y/n isn't so strict about that but also wouldn't usually wear any form of paint on her body.

All of this feels so very foreign to y/n. Of course, she knew that Katsuki must live a different way of life but when being with him, that rarely became apparent. This outfit makes it painfully aware of just how different their cultures are.

Somewhen, Katsuki reenters the tent again. He wears a similar body paint as her. He lost the cape and more necklaces than usually hang around his neck. He also wears a bunch of bracelets, he usually doesn't wear.

When the ladies are done with y/n, they present her to him. Y/n gets up from where she is seated and gives him an unsure smile.

His eyes run up and down her figure. He has a stern look on his face the entire time, but he gives her an approving nod. Then he steps closer to her and pulls a delicate chain from his pocket. Carefully, he places it on her head.

Immediately, the women step closer and pin it into place. Y/n touches it carefully. The chain is thin with strings of golden beads. In the middle of her forehead dangles a drop-shaped pendant in a rubyred shade.

Katsuki puts a hand on her shoulder. The weight from his arm grounds her. She didn't notice how shaky her breath was.

The funny thing is, she doesn't even know what this is all about or what will happen when they leave the tent. Based on the outfits and Katsuki's grim expression, it must be something meaningful, something big.

She wonders if he drags her down an aisle. Figuratively speaking, because her people don't marry in churches where you would have to walk down an aisle. Her people marry in lakes and rivers or creeks. They believe all life comes from water and therefore they tie their lives together in it.

Y/n is pretty sure, she would refuse to step in a lake around here. It's just too cold for swimming on the tip of a mountain. She wonders if she'd walk down an aisle with Katsukin if that's what is going to happen today.

Anxiety chews at the sides of her stomach. Truth is, she doesn't want to get married. She wants to be with Katsuki, yes, but again in her culture that doesn't mean one just immediately marries. Y/n thinks that a challenge or crisis must be overcome first before two people can truly know that they belong together. That hasn't happened so far.

She needs more time and she doesn't know if Katsuki or his people are going to give her more time.

The two women leave the tent and Katsuki and y/n remain alone. Katsuki steps a bit closer and carefully puts his hand on the side of her head. He leans closer and puts his forehead against hers. The pendant presses into the skin of y/n's head and it doesn't feel as reassuring as it probably should feel.

Y/n swallows hard.

Katsuki leans back and stares into her eyes. The red of his eyes looks particularly hard today.

Meanwhile, Katsuki can see the fear in y/n's eyes. He wants to explain to her what they will do today but he knows he can't. It makes him angry he's never been taught the common tongue. His mother was traditional like that.

He is racking his brain for any words or sentences he picked up. Unfortunately, most of the things he learned, he picked up in battle or from captives or the women they took. He doubts however that things like "die", "you bastards" or "please, no" will be reassuring to y/n.

"Okay?", he tries, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. He holds out his hand to her. Y/n stares at his hand, then at him. She takes a deep breath. "Okay", she whispers and takes his hand.

*~*~*~*~

Katsuki takes her to the bonfire square. It's where his mother, her ladies-in-waiting, and the rest of his people wait for them.

He's as anxious as y/n looks like. He has to admit that while y/n looks absolutely stunning in his tribe's clothes and paint, she also looks smaller and weaker than ever. He tells himself that things will be alright. That even if his mother doesn't approve, he can take her on as his mate anyway. He's chief, he makes the decisions.

But deep down, every child wants to please their parents. And Katsuki looks up to his mother. She's fierce, she's strong and the only reason he's chief to begin with is only because she stepped down after the plague. Some people blamed her for it even though everybody knows that it's not something a human being can control. Maybe that is why she feels so strongly about Katsuki taking on a good mate that will produce lots of offspring.

Katsuki shudders even though he's not cold. He looks at y/n who is also shivering. He holds her hand a bit tighter. Y/n looks up to him and gives him a small smile.

At least she doesn't despise me and comes along willingly, he thinks.

The past few presentations since the plague have been anything than pretty and joyful. After raids, men brought women from other places. Women that didn't want to be there. It was either impossible to make them look presentable due to them fighting it or the paint on their faces was ruined by the time they stepped in front of Katsuki.

Usually, his men have to present their future mates in front of the chief and he has to decide whether they are acceptable or not. Since he's chief, it's his mother who will do the presentation. In contrast to Katsuki's decision, his mother's is completely representative and meaningless. He's chief after all. And still, he feels like he needs his mother's approval. Maybe part of him is afraid that his people won't respect him or his mate when she doesn't approve of her.

They approach the square. His people are lined up at the side desperate to get a view of the woman Katsuki brings along. His mother and her ladies-in-waiting are sitting at the other end of the square.

Katsuki can feel y/n stiffen at his side. He gives her a glance and can see how her face is pale beneath the red paint on her face. She's not shaking anymore but her muscles are tightened to a point where they will probably ache tomorrow.

He links her arms with his and proudly struts along the square. He tries not to walk too fast so that she doesn't stumble over her feet. He's seen women stumble and fall on their presentation and it was always humiliating for her and the man. Of course worse are the cases where they have to be dragged or carried into the square while crying and loudly protesting.

Quickly, he tries to shut out these thoughts. This is different, y/n's different. She's coming willingly, she's looking more than just presentable, things will be fine.

He steps in front of his mother who looks at him with a hard stare. She doesn't even spare y/n a glance.

„Mother, I present to you the woman I have chosen as my mate.“, he tells her. His voice sounds hard and determined.

His mother sits up more straightly. Her eyes shift from him to y/n. Katsuki doesn't dare to look at y/n. He just hopes she holds eye contact with his mother. His mother, Mistuki, looks y/n up and down.

Then she stands up and walks up to the couple. Gently, Katsuki lets go off y/n's arm and takes a step to the side.

His mother circles y/n while examining the woman infront of her. She lifts y/n's skirt a bit and peers under it. She touches her hair and the necklaces that dangle around her neck.

„She's skinny.“, Mitsuki comments. Katsuki stays silent. His mother stops infront of y/n and looks her up and down again.

„She has no muscle mass whatsoever. Can she even carry a bucket of water from the creek to your tent?“, his mother continues.

„She arrived yesterday. I'm sure she can build up muscles over time.“, Katsuki answers her calmly.

Mitsuki cocks her head to the side.

„Can she? She looks cold. She might also freeze before she even finds her way back to your tent.“, his mother continues.

„I get her warmer clothes.“, Katsuki argues.

His mother gives him a glance.

„Sure, sure. You can. But what if she catches a cold? Is she sustainable enough to survive that? To survive childbirth?“, his mother asks frowning.

Katsuki steps closer again and pushes y/n's top to the side a bit.

„When we met, she had an arrow stuck in her shoulder. Look, it healed quickly and without infection. I'm sure she can heal well after giving birth.“, he explains.

„Struck by an arrow?“, his mother says with a raised eyebrow and Katsuki instantly regrets mentioning it.

„That means she lost a fight? Are we not a tribe of warriors?“, Mitsuki asks sharply.

„It's a wound of a warrior. I've been struck by arrows before. Are you saying I'm not a warrior?“, he bites back.

His mother gives him a long stare before returning to her seat. She leans her head onto her arm and runs a hand over her face. He knows what comes next.

„I don't approve.“, she says and Katsuki's face twists in anger. Whispers run through the crowd.

Before he can answer her, Mitsuki continues.

„Katsuki, you understand you are our leader, yes? You understand that it is necessary that you have plenty and healthy children, yes?“, she points out angrily.

„Of course, mother. I intend to ensure our tribe's survival in any way I can.“, he tells her calmly.

Mitsuki slams her fist down and stands up.

„Then, why are you intending to bond to this frail excuse of a female? Why do you not wait until one of our own is of age?“, his mother says loudly pointing towards a few girls at the age of 10-12 at the side next to her ladies-in-waiting.

„The longer I wait or any man of this tribe waits, the bigger the gap between the generations will get. This poses a threat to our tribe. You know that. It's why we began bringing in women from other places in the first place.“, he argues back angrily.

„Wrong“, his mother says cooly, „We began bringing other women here because so many of us died that even the next generation of women can't ensure the tribe's survival.“

Katsuki grinds his teeth. She's not wrong.

„Do you know what kind of insult this is to these women? That their leader chooses a foreign, weak female like that over them?“, his mother continues and gives y/n a demeaning gesture.

Katsuki starts to see red.

„They're not women, they're children, mother. Do you intend to make one of them my child bride? Isn't that an insult to their mothers who died? Is that all they're worth?“, he yells at her.

He knows that will hit a sore spot. His mother cares deeply for these young girls and grieves the death of their mothers equally as deeply.

Absolute silence engulfs the square. No one dares to even move a finger. His mother gives him a long, cold stare. Then she sits down again.

„You're chief, Katsuki. Do whatever you want, but I'll warn you. Your example will precede this tribe. If you fail to produce an heir, this tribe will not survive under your reign.“, she tells him.

Katsuki is fuming. He wants to yell at her, maybe even throw a knife at her. But people are watching and he has to be careful what he says next. He must strengthen his position as chief even if that means demeaning his own mother.

„You've brought this fate upon us in the first place. Why do you think you have the answer to how we ensure our survival? Didn't you step down because you don't have the answer?“, he says striking to kill.

His mother's face contorts in anger and shame. He doesn't give her a chance to reply. He turns to his people.

„This woman came here by her own free will. She's proven herself a great healer and skilled hunter to me. You all feasted on her success at yesterday's bonfire. Therefore, I approve her of being worthy as my mate.“, he declares to them.

Without waiting for a reaction from his people or his mother, he turns around grabbing y/n's arm and he leaves the square with his head held high.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n stumbles after Katsuki. Her head spins. The last few minutes have been nothing but bizarre to her. Obviously, she didn't understand a single thing that's been said but y/n isn't stupid. She quickly picked up on the atmosphere of the conversation. Which was not good.

Even before Katsuki and the women started yelling at each other, y/n knew that the conversation was not going well. It's easy to spot when Katsuki gets angry. Really angry, not the normal state of angry he always seems to be in.

Katsuki walks fast and y/n has trouble keeping up with him. He drags her all the way back to his tent. Only when they're inside, does Katsuki let go of her. He doesn't say a word.

He walks over to the table and pushes it over with a loud, angry yell. Y/n flinches at the action.

Katsuki kicks a bucket filled with weapons to the other side of the room and lets out a string of angry words that y/n guesses are insults.

She's never seen him this angry before and it scares her. She wants to get closer to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and comfort him in his frustration. But when Katsuki starts destroying one of the chairs with a battle axe, y/n is sure it's best to not get close to him at this moment.

So, she stands helplessly in the middle of the room flinching and trying to avoid flying splinters of wood.

Suddenly, there's a rustle at the entrance of the tent. A red-haired warrior enters it.

„Yo, Bakugou!“, the man says carefully and steps next to y/n.

„What the fuck do you want, shitty hair?“, Katsuki yells at him, his face contorted in anger.

„Making sure you don't scare the poor thing to death.“, the man says and points towards y/n.

„Fuck off, Kirishima. She's fine.“, Katsuki growls at him

The man named Kirishima sighs and gives y/n a side glance.

„You sure? She doesn't look too happy about this. You still have to mark her, maybe tune it down a bit until then.“, Kirishima tells his chief.

Katsuki drops the bits of wood he is holding and frowns.

„Whatever, shitty hair. What do you want?“, Katsuki asks.

Kirishima pushes his hands into his pockets.

„Looking if you're alright. I mean the presentation went... not well, I guess.“, the red-haired man says carefully.

Katsuki scoffs. „I'm fine. The hag's opinion doesn't matter. I'm chief.“, he declares.

Kirishima nods. „Of course, you are. And your decision stands.“, he reassures his leader.

„And if you ask me, I think you made a good choice.“, Kirishima continues.

„From all the women that we brought here over the last few years, that one is definitely the calmest. Remember when I brought mine? She was a mess, well, actually still is but I don't need to tell you that.“, Kirishima tries to reassure him.

When Katsuki doesn't answer, Kirishima quickly adds: „Also, she's very pretty.“.

Katsuki straightens his posture and looks y/n up and down.

„Yeah, she is.“, he tells his red-haired friend.

Kirishima nods cheerily. „Exactly. So why bother thinking about your mother's words? Why don't you and... uh...?“, Kirishima gestures towards y/n.

„Y/n“, Katsuki tells him.

„Right, why don't you and y/n come and join us at the stables? Denki, Sero, and I are heating up some mead. Have a drink with us.“, Kirishima proposes.

Katsuki shrugs. „I don't know. Y/n might not feel comfortable meeting more people after this.“, Katsuki tries to excuse himself.

Kirishima gives him a toothy grin. „Oh, what a gentleman. You're really smitten, aren't you?“, he teases.

Katsuki shoots him an angry look. „Shut the fuck up, Kirishima. It's just been a lot, ok?“, he mumbles.

Kirishima doesn't fail to notice the pink dust covering his chief's cheeks.

„Alright, what about this. Y/n stays here and can collect herself. You come with us for a drink. Maybe we can come back and catch her later. What do you think?“, Kirishima tries to convince him again.

Katsuki shrugs.

„I guess we can do that.“, Katsuki says reluctantly.

„Great!“; Kirishima says clapping his hands. „Y/n, you stay! We'll come back later.“, he tells the woman next to him who looks at him with wide eyes when he speaks directly to her.

Katsuki steps over the destroyed chair and follows his friend outside without sparing y/n a glance.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n feels like crying. She's standing in the middle of the half-destroyed room all alone. She's so confused.

What on earth happened?

What's going on?

Who is that red-haired man?

Where is Katsuki going?

Her head starts to hurt by the amount of force she uses to suppress her tears. Eventually, she can't hold them back anymore and hot tears run down her face.

She makes sure that no one can hear her sob.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

[harmonictechnicality]

Robin drags Steve to a local art exhibit on a goddamn weeknight. This is not his scene at all.

Pretentious douchebags in scarves discussing if that splatter of paint represents socioeconomic downfall? Nah, this shit is not for him.

Robin ditches him halfway through the exhibit to talk to some sculptor that she’s got a thing for. Honestly, Steve would’ve done the same thing if it were him. But still, Steve is five minutes away from leaving her ass and taking a cab home.

He’s sitting on metal bench, centered a few feet away from the oversized canvas of scattered colors.

It looks like such a mess. Scribbled strokes of paint and lines that bump into curves. Everything intersecting. Someone would probably try to convince him that it represents the artist’s troubled past or fucked up childhood.

To Steve, it’s just a mess.

“What do you think?” A voice asks, joining Steve on the bench.

He looks to be about Steve’s age. Bold features, bolder hairstyle. All black clothes with chunky red combat boots. Elaborate tattoos creeping over the collar of his shirt.

Steve shrugs. “Truthfully? I don’t get it.”

“It’s art. What don’t you get about it?” The guy looks stunned.

Is Steve really about to argue with a complete stranger over lines and colors?

“There’s nothing but lost movements.”

Guess he is.

Steve observes the nameplate next to the canvas and goes off.

“Like this Eddie Munson guy held up a paintbrush and went, ‘fuck it, they’ll never know this is bullshit.’ Honestly, this whole place is a facade for people to masquerade around, pretending to be in tune to artistic expression, but they’re not.”

“They’re not?”

“No.” Steve answers immediately, a little defensive. “Nobody here gives a shit about what the artist is trying to convey, and this artist…”

Steve points at the artwork.

“This Munson guy knew that. Knew he could fool every rich asshole in this place.”

The guy looks at the painting and laughs. He’s got a nice smile, Steve thinks. Wide and genuine. Not too perfect. Not overly rehearsed. Like he doesn’t give out smiles to just anyone.

“Eddie Munson couldn’t fool you though, could he?” He finally says, looking directly at Steve.

The intense eye contact makes Steve a bit fidgety. Nervous. “I guess not, no.”

“I like that.”

“Like what?”

“That you refuse to see what everyone else sees.” The guy turns away, releasing Steve from the gaze. “Even if that would be easier.”

It almost sounded like he was trying to say he likes Steve. Not that Steve would complain if that were true. This guy is not his type, but that doesn’t mean he’s unwilling to expand his definition of type for someone that’s interested in him.

“What do you think about it?” Steve tilts his head towards the canvas.

The guy twists the ring on his thumb, processing an answer. He crosses his legs, then un-crosses them. Twists the ring counterclockwise now.

“I think the painter abandoned their originality to meet their growing audience’s expectations of them as an artist.” He finally says.

Steve scoffs. “How did you draw up a conclusion like that?”

The guy hums and abruptly changes the topic. “What did you say your name was?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Right.” He gets up and gestures toward a ‘staff only’ door. “Up for a little field trip, Steve Harrington?”

This is dumb. Breaking laws is something Steve left behind in his angst-filled teen years.

But this guy is bad-boy hot and Steve is painfully bored, so he follows the stranger despite his better judgement.

They enter the door and are instantly greeted by a trail of empty paint buckets. There’s dirty tarps covering the floors and countless canvases laid out across the wide room.

Right away, Steve can tell this is what art is all about. The chaos. The urgency to create as soon inspiration strikes.

And these paintings look nothing like the one hanging in the gallery. These paintings are full narratives told through shapes and pigments.

These paintings could be an autobiography on the topic of someone who experiences life deeply. Passionately.

These are the untold masterpieces.

“Wow.” Is all Steve finally comes up with.

“To answer your question,” the stranger gestures grandly to the entirety of the room. “This is how I drew up that conclusion.”

“This was the originality. It’s stuck behind these four walls, but it’s where everything started. It’s where everything should have stayed.”

Steve carefully watches the man explore all the different works of art. Bending down to touch some. Smiling playfully at others. Steve is stupidly captivated by his ability to shine amongst literal art.

“What did you say your name was?”

The guy chuckles and walks back over to Steve. “I didn’t.”

“Right. Are you gonna tell me?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on if you’ll still kiss me after I tell you.”

They’re standing close, Steve hadn’t realized it until now. Maybe it was him closing the distance. Maybe it was the stranger. Maybe it was gravity growing tired of their mediocre foreplay.

But they’re close now. So close that Steve can see the lightening bolt tattoo below the stranger’s left ear. A thought runs rampant in Steve’s slutty mind that he could see every single neck tattoo if he were to start unbuttoning this guy’s shirt.

He’s close enough to do it.

“I’ll still kiss you afterwards,” Steve agrees dreamily. Getting high off of paint fumes and close proximity.

The stranger lets his hand wander up the back of Steve’s neck, breaths getting caught in Steve’s throat at the contact.

“I’m that Eddie Munson guy.” He says in a low whisper. “The same one who held up a paintbrush and went, ‘fuck it, they’ll never know this is bullshit.’”

Every word he utters is cautious now. Like Steve might change his mind about kissing him.

Steve doesn’t change his mind.

He pulls hard at Eddie’s collar, lets their lips collide dizzily fast. Eddie’s mouth pushes against his to lead the kiss, Steve is more than happy to let him do so.

It’s a noisy kiss. Sounds escaping out of the corners of their mouths. Airy gasps and rustling clothes filling the open space.

Steve breaks the kiss to speak, inhaling as much oxygen as he can get. “I’m guessing you bring lots of guys back here and woo them with your secretly amazing art.”

Eddie had transitioned to kissing Steve’s neck while he was talking, but stops as soon as Steve says that.

“You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart.” Eddie cradles Steve’s flushed cheeks with both hands. “I only bring pretty boys who refuse to see what everyone else sees back here.”

Steve moves Eddie’s hands and wraps them around his own neck. “Even if that would be easier.”

Eddie smiles. “Exactly.”

He goes back to sucking on Steve’s neck, like he was rudely interrupted before, and Steve starts to feel as chaotic as the art surrounding them. Eddie marks him with a fresh bruise, just below his right ear. Mirroring the exact spot where Eddie’s lightening tattoo is located.

Eddie licks over it. Swirling his tongue in sweltering circles, making Steve pant wow as he finishes the creation he was designing solely with his mouth.

He exhales a single laugh into their kiss.

“Why are you laughing?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head.

“I really like doing things that make you say wow like that, Steve Harrington.”

Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “I really like that too.”

Eddie kisses him thoroughly slow once more, then nibbles over Steve’s ear as he whispers:

“Kinda curious to find out what else I can make you say.”

[kj-yikes]

25. Ink

(on ao3 here)

"Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?" Kara asks as she ghosts her fingertips down Lena's bare spine. They've been in bed all morning — a rare Sunday where Kara hasn't been pulled away for Supergirl duties and convinces Lena to be lazy.

Lena shivers as Kara's fingers reach the sensitive spot on the lower curve of her back. Chills erupt on her naked skin. "I almost did, once, just to piss Lillian off. It didn't seem like a good enough reason to get something permanently tattooed on my body. I got my piercings instead. At least I could take those out if I decided I didn't want them."

Kara smiles. She adores Lena's piercings, even though Lena rarely puts her studs in. Of course, there are other piercings, ones that had surprised Kara the first time she saw them, that drive Kara crazy. She'd graze her fingers across them now if Lena wasn't laying on her stomach.

"What about you? Would you get a tattoo if you could?" Lena asks, blindly reaching out to make contact with Kara, eyes still closed as she lazes in their bed.

"I don't know. Maybe," Kara hums. "I thought tattoos were fascinating when I first got to Earth, maybe because I knew I couldn't get one." She smiles, chuckles, remembering. "I used to draw on my arms when I got bored in class. Eliza would get so mad at me. I'd come home covered in doodles and the occasional Kryptonian when I thought I could get away with it."

Lena's green eyes open, and Kara is momentarily struck by her simple beauty. The sheet has slipped to just past her hips, hiding the curve of her bare ass. Her head is pillowed on her folded arms, and her hair is wavy, messy from the way she'd writhed against the pillow as Kara moved on top of her earlier that morning.

"When I was in the sixth grade, this girl I had a crush on, Sophia Jefferson, would draw on my arms. Just flowers and hearts and stuff. God, it made me feel things," Lena chuckles.

Kara captures Lena's lips in a slow, languid kiss. Lena sighs softly, fisting her pillow beneath her head. Kara pulls away and leans her head against Lena's forehead. "Was that a formative queer experience for you?"

"Oh, definitely. Pretty girls drawing on you? Very gay, very hot," Lena jokes. Kara raises an eyebrow.

"Is that right?" Kara reaches over and grabs Lena's arm, bringing it closer to her. Lena rolls to her side to allow for easier access. Rao, she's stunning. Kara tries not to get distracted by her naked wife laying so gorgeously in front of her, instead running her finger in swirls and spirals across Lena's forearm. Lena shivers again. "Can I draw on you?"

Lena eyes her curiously, bright eyes sparkling. "Okay."

"Okay," Kara punctuates the statement with a kiss to the soft, sensitive skin of Lena's wrist and extricates herself from the sheets. She pads across their apartment to retrieve a pen from the office.

Lena watches her as she crosses the bedroom and climbs back on the bed. Kara settles seated next to Lena and takes her arm back, placing kisses down from her wrist to her elbow before uncapping the pen.

"Any requests?" she wiggles her eyebrows.

Lena shakes her head with a sly smile. "Surprise me."

Kara grins and gets to work. The first thing she draws, right past the joint of Lena's wrist, is the house of El crest, just a simple sketch. Kara holds Lena's wrist up to admire her handiwork, and Lena laughs, a melodic sound that warms Kara from the inside out.

"Cheeky," Lena says, quirking a polished eyebrow. Kara laughs and continues drawing, winding long flower stems up Lena's forearm. It becomes almost meditative — Kara's fingers skimming Lena's oh-so-soft skin, covering Lena's alabaster skin in her art, feeling the weight of Lena's green eyes watching her, studying her as she concentrates.

After a few minutes, Kara is trying to find an inch of skin on Lena's arm that hasn't been covered in blooms or leaves. She pulls back to study, to plan her next endeavor, when she suddenly looks up at Lena.

Blue eyes connect with green, and even six years into their relationship, it still gives her butterflies. Kara's gaze roams over her hooded eyes, her seductive smirk, the slope of her neck and her collarbone.

As Kara's eyes wander, Lena rolls over and exposes her side to Kara. "If I was going to get a tattoo, I think I would've done something on my ribs. Draw me something?"

Kara traces her fingers down Lena's side, and Lena sighs. "You gonna get it tattooed?" Kara whispers, half joking.

Lena smiles mysteriously. "Maybe."

Kara's stomach clenches pleasantly. Kara loves that idea. Kara is wild about that idea.

But what should she draw?

She scoots closer to Lena and spreads her hands over the blank canvas of Lena's ribcage and considers. Then, it comes to her.

Lena squirms a little as Kara begins to ink her skin. "Sorry, I bet it's a little tickle-y."

"It's okay. Keep going," Lena murmurs. Kara looks up towards Lena's face and sees that Lena's eyes are closed and her brow is slightly furrowed. She places a soft kiss on Lena's ribs before resuming.

Her pen moves across Lena's ribs and she braces a hand against Lena's chest as she draws. When she's finished, she smooths a hand over the slightly irritated skin.

"There. All done." Lena opens her eyes and looks down, and then lets out a soft gasp.

"Is that a plumeria?" Lena's voice is hushed, awed. Kara nods.

"A plumeria and a Dar-Essa bloom," Kara answers softly. The smile Lena gives her makes her heart skip a beat.

"I love it, Kara," she says as she runs her fingers along where the two flowers overlap amidst the leaves behind them. Kara grabs her hand and intertwines their fingers, laying down next to Lena and snuggling close.

There's a pause as Kara's lips find Lena's jawbone.

"What if I did get it tattooed, though?"

[multifandomslxt]

Tramp - Stamp

MDNI

MINORS GO AWAY

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Yuta x chubby!reader

Synopsis: After years of silently admiring him from afar, your friends have finally convinced you to break the ice with the guy who's been the subject of your secret crush: Yuta Nakamoto, the renowned tattoo artist. His mere presence sends a wave of excitement through you...all of you. luckily you happen to have a particular design in mind—a tramp stamp—that you've been itching to get inked onto your skin.

WARNING: Smut, unprotected p in v ( use protection kids), choking, spitting, hair pulling, mirrors (hehe), crying, begging, needles, smoking, Yuta is mean but sweet (lol), READER IS CHUBBY!! stretch marks, love handles, back rolls, stomach rolls etc. (if you don't like it, don't read it), Reader calls Yuta "Daddy", Yuta calls reader "bunny".

A/N: I have nothing against lower back tattoos or tramp stamps. I plan to get one myself actually. however, the term tramp stamp will have a different meaning in this fic.

I apologize in advance for any typos. Enjoy!

"Finally!" Minhee, your best friend of five years mutters, exasperation dripping from her voice.

Your bottom lip juts out in distaste. "What do you mean finally? I mentioned this to you just a couple months ago."

"Yeah, Y/N, but come on, you usually back out of these things, y'know?" Minhee explains, a playful smirk on her lips.

You sigh, not bothering to argue because you know she's right. There was a good reason, though. You grew up sheltered, and because of that, you just shied away from things that would draw attention to you.

For example, a tramp stamp.

Minhee squeals and shimmies her shoulders in excitement. "So… who's gonna do it?"

Huh… You hadn’t really gotten that far in your thoughts. You just figured you would go to a random tattoo parlor with good enough reviews.

You shrug. "I'll just choose somewhere with great reviews."

Minhee looks at you quizzically, tilting her head. "Good reviews? Why? Yuta's sho—"

You hold your hand up, stopping her mid-sentence. You roll your eyes. "Don't even think about it."

Minhee mimics you, rolling her eyes as well. "Y/N, you've wanted to fuck the guy since high school."

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassing memories resurfacing. "Minhee, please," you beg.

Besides, even if you did allow Yuta to tattoo you, there was no way in hell he would do anything more. You weren’t his type. He didn’t say that to you, but after years of stalking his social media pages like a creep, it was obvious you were definitely not his cup of tea. And it bothered you more than it should have.

"But Y/N, how will you get out of your shell without trying something new?" Minhee pleads. "Just trust me, the worst thing he can do is just give you the tattoo and never talk to you again." She shrugs.

You bite your lip in contemplation. That is true.

Fuck it.

"Fine, I'll do it."

Another squeal. "Yes! I'll book your appointment."

After some taps on her phone, she says, "Friday, 12:30."

You exhale, already hearing your heart pounding in your ears.

~~~~~

It was Friday, 12:15 PM.

You stood outside Yuta's tattoo parlor, teetering on the edge of decision. The air was thick with the scent of rain, and the cloudy sky reflected your inner turmoil.

Minhee had called you earlier, her voice a mix of encouragement and threat. "Just spread your wings a little. See where it takes you," she had urged over the phone. "If you back out, I'll never talk to you again."

Hopefully not an embarrassing fall from grace, you thought.

Sighing, you wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans and pushed the door open. The chime above the door announced your arrival with a soft tinkle, and you stepped inside, your heart pounding in your ears.

Your eyes darted to every corner of the shop within your sight. Holy shit.

It was dark. So fucking dark.

The parlor was an extension of Yuta himself. Black leather furniture, dark wood shelves, and posters of intricate, shadowy designs adorned the walls. Even the decorative plants were a deep, almost black, green. The only color contrasts were the neon signs casting an eerie glow and the cherry red telephone on the receptionist's desk.

And, of course, you.

A horrible choice to wear a baby pink crop top. You had hoped not to stand out, for crying out loud.

"Spread your wings," you muttered to yourself, taking another deep breath.

You made your way to the receptionist, pretending not to notice her staring at you since you stood outside. Her gaze was intense, but her smile was warm and welcoming.

"Hello, how may I help you today, sweetheart?" the receptionist asked.

"Hi, umm, I have an appointment? I'm Y/N for 12:30."

The receptionist nodded immediately, typing away and glancing at her computer screen. "Ah… 12:30 with Yuta." She looked up, waiting for your confirmation.

You nodded.

She smiled again. "Go through that door and wait; he'll be right with you."

The door she pointed to was, of course, dark wood, almost black, adorned with posters of various butterfly tattoos. A gold name plate read, "N. YUTA."

You exhaled once more, your heart hammering in your chest, and made your way toward the door, each step echoing in the dimly lit room.

The door opened with a soft creak, and my gosh, the light almost blinded you. Such a contrast from the waiting area.

The walls were a dark red with random splashes of black paint, all four sides adorned with even more sketches. Butterflies, swords, cartoons, and so much more.

a stool, and a bed -where you assumed customers lay down or sat on when getting tattooed- stood in the middle of the room. A table right beside the stool stood with different inks and the tools Yuta would need to tattoo someone. And, of course, there was a huge light standing over the bench and stool.

You awkwardly took a seat at the edge of the bed. The second you sat down, the door opened again, revealing Yuta.

His head was down, focused on his phone screen. You took this opportunity to look at him. Like, really look at him.

His black hair was grown out just above his shoulders, framing his face with an almost rough ethereal beauty. He was clad in all black—black pants and a black crop top that revealed just the tiniest bit of his butterfly tattoo and a fucking belly button piercing.

fuck me.

Finally, he looked up, and you quickly looked away.

his eyes were darker than you remembered.

"Y/N, right?" His voice was smooth and rich, with a hint of amusement.

You turned your attention back to him and nodded. "Y-yeah, I'm Y/N."

He nodded, a confident smile playing on his lips. "I'm Yuta. I'll be tattooing you today," he said, taking a seat on the stool in front of you. he smelled like cigarettes and faintlu of cologne.

it made you dizzy.

"Yeah, I know that. So, umm, I have my design—if that's okay?" you stumbled, trying to keep your composure.

The way he was staring so deeply at you like he could see through you.

It almost made you want to hide.

like a predator stalking its prey.

He stared at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before saying something that made your heart nearly stop. "You're still so shy after all these years, bunny?"

Bunny?

Did he just call you... No.

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of his words. Had he recognized you? Your cheeks flushed as old, buried memories began to resurface. You had known Yuta back in high school, but you never thought he’d remember you. Let alone a nickname you thought he had long forgotten.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. "Y-you remember me?"

Yuta chuckled softly, a dark, almost predatory look in his eyes. "Of course I do. Some things you just don't forget."

butterflies erupted in your belly as you felt your finger tips tingle

You wanted to be under him so badly that your body ached.

The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pulsing with your heartbeat. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, peeling away the layers you had built around yourself over the years.

"Well then," he said, leaning forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "Let's see that design."

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached into your back pocket and pulled out the paper with your design on it. You handed it to him, your fingers brushing against his. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. For a brief moment Yuta's body stiffened.

Holy fuck.

Did he want you too?

He examined the design, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. " You drew this?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice to speak.

he looks up at you quizzically causing your breathing to hasten

"do i still have to remind you to use your words bunny?" he asks his tone joking but his posture changed. from slouching to upright and his jaw was clenched. his eyes were a little darker and a little more demanding.

You realized that he wanted to hear you and he wanted it now.

your breath hitches before squeaking out a quiet "no"

he smiles, relaxes his posture and nods approvingly "Good girl"

This was unfair.

you wanted to affect him as much as he affected you.

Yuta looked up at you, his dark eyes boring into yours. "it's nice. it suits you. where do you want it?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "on my back please" you whispered.

Yuta raises a dark eyebrow in question "This seems a little small for the middle of your back bunny."

"no no, you don't understand" you you chuckle nervously

he looks at you expectantly, crossing his arms at his chest and tilting his head "Well make me understand sweetheart"

"I'll just show you" You get up from the bed and turn around

lifting our shirt revealing your lower back just above your ass.

you reach behind you and attempt to point to that spot "right here. I want it right here please."

A beat of silence passes, and another and another before you decide to turn around slightly.

his eyes lazily looked at you from head to toe.

He swallowed thickly, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and curiosity before he replied in a strained voice,

"A tramp stamp?"

You smiled, feeling a rush of boldness, and with a flicker of hesitation, dropped your shirt, fully facing him now.

"Yes," you confirmed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves within you. God, he made you so jittery.

He clenched and unclenched his jaw, his eyes still fixed on you, observing every move as if he were deciphering a complex puzzle.

"Who's it for?" he questioned, his tone tinged with the same strain as before.

Confusion flickered across your features as you met his gaze. "Me?" you responded, the uncertainty evident in your voice.

He chuckled, though the humor didn't reach his eyes. "Fucking hell, you're trying to kill me."

" A tramp stamp just for your own amusement, bunny? And you want me to do it?" His words carried a mix of disbelief and a hint of something deeper, perhaps longing.

With a resigned sigh, he walked over to his stool and took a seat, motioning for you to shut the door.

It was common knowledge that when Yuta worked, he kept the door cracked, but shutting it completely? That was unheard of.

You decided to comply, despite the uncertainty gnawing at you. Closing the door softly behind you, you approached him with slow, steady steps, stopping in between his parted legs.

"A tattoo on your lower back," he mused carefully, his hands moving to grasp your love handles possessively leading you to the bed.

"You're putting ideas in my head." he whispers still staring at you hips.

His words were laced with a raw intensity that sent shivers down your spine. His eyes bore into yours so intently it made you heart race and your heart clench.

Did he want you to beg for it?

fine, you came prepared for that anyway.

'Please...ruin me. Fucking ruin me.'

is what you would have said if you were brave enough, instead all you could get out was

"oh..i-"

Yuta chuckles "flustered?"

you clear your throat and look away

a finger lifts your chin causing you to meet his predatory gaze again

"I'm gonna be real with you here bunny, I want to fuck your brains out. not professional of me I know but I wouldn't be saying it if I didn't know you wanted it too"

~~~~~

your fingers clawed at his back as he fucked you against the wall

his balls rhythmically slapping against you

you looked down enjoying the sight of him fucking into you , his cock branded with a white ring of your cum.

"Yuta," you gasp, breath hitching, "I want more."

“Oh, you want more?” he responds with a smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I can definitely give you more."

The motion of his thrusts causes your stomach to quiver, muscles trembling in response as your body matches his rhythm. Each movement is intense, sending waves of sensation through you.

Your throat feels raw from all the shouting and moaning—so much so that you can barely voice how close you are. Instead, your grip tightens around his arm, fingers digging into his skin in a desperate, wordless plea, silently telling him that you’re right on the edge.

"Already, Y/N?" he taunts, not even slowing his relentless pace. His voice is a mix of amusement and intensity, each word vibrating through you.

Before you can process his words, the sensation crashes over you, making your toes curl, your back arching away from the wall. Your mouth falls open, releasing a silent scream as the overwhelming pleasure grips you.

The release is so intense that tears spill down your cheeks, your body trembling under the weight of it all. But he doesn't stop—his rhythm remains the same, drawing out every ounce of sensation, leaving you breathless and barely able to think.

have you ever been fucked so hard you stomach started to hurt?

but fuck, you didn't want him to stop

soon you started to feel the burn of it all, our body twitched and trembled.

you fought so hard to speak but you couldn't even form a thought

suddenly it was all too much.

your head spun , your eyes rolled back and your body shook with one more orgasm

"Yuta please!" you screamed your hand instinctually trying to push him away from you and he only responded by gripping both your wrist in one hand.

"behave!" he growled out biting your nipple as a form of punishment but all that did was give you another orgasm.

"Ah! I'm-oh...please...fuck me daddy....please" you cried hysterically.

It's embarrassing what a good fuck can do to the mind

"Fuck bunny, such a dirty fucking mouth" he whispers as he bring his hand to your face gripping your jaw.

"open for me baby" he coos

you mouth is wide open not even a millisecond later and oh my hell

you died and came back when he spat in your mouth.

"swallow that shit" he thrusts deeper and harder.

"SHIT!" You scream out as he reaches a spot that you never had touched

he smiles at you mischievously "found it"

and just like that you had two more orgasms before you realized,

Yuta didn't cum yet

which could only mean one thing

"I'm not done with you bunny. I want you from the back"

You shook your head, still in a daze. " T-tired....t'much...mmm"

he kisses your temple oh so sweetly as anything but sweet words fall from his lips "i know baby but I want to see you cry some more when i fuck you harder. besides, don't you want daddy to cum all over you baby?

you look up at him with tear filled eyes "yes daddy"

he smiles showing his teeth "then be a good bunny and get on all fours for me"

~

"ah fuck" was what he said when he finally sank into you again.

his hands roamed your back squeezing and giving attention to your rolls

"You were fucking made for me" he moaned out in utter bliss.

looks like you did affect him like he affected you.

he was relentless with his thrust.

so fucking eager.

the room was just filled with the sound of your ass meeting his cock and oh was it music to your ears

"the view from here is fucking amazing baby"

he slaps your ass cheek repeatedly and you already know its bruised red.

from the mirror on the wall you could see him rubbing his hands all over your stretch marks as he mouths an inaudible "fuck"

You also see that he's going to take it up a notch when he lifts one of his legs up on to the stool. giving him a deeper angle as he pummels into you

"you grip on the white sheet on the tattoo bed as you scream

"I'M GONNA CUM!"

you fall on your chest as the strength leaves your arms. your eyes blur with tears for the the umpteenth time and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood

"I know baby me too" he pants out chest heaving as he tries to maintain his pace

"mmm-I'm cumming...i'm cumming- ah shit!" you manage to get out as your stomach tightens.

you feel Yuta swelling inside you but he pulls out just intime as white ropes of cum are painted over your back.

you barley can keep your eyes open as you see Yuta use his hands to spread his cum all over your stretchmark- filled ass cheeks

"holy shit: he says collapsing on top of you.

you're quiet for a moment not finding the strength to speak as yet

"i should've taken you on a date first bunny" Yuta says filling the silence

you sigh contently "you still can."

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Soulmate Aus

Requested: No

Warnings: Discrimination based on tattoos and brief description of kidnapping

Ghost - His scars as tattoos

Twisted and burned flesh blooming into roses along your chest, deep cuts and gaping holes turned into pitch black stars that shone on your skin, drawing all sorts of attention that you hated to have on you. The whispers that follow after in your shadow leave you nauseous and uneasy. Marks, given to you by your soulmate. Barbed wire in a slash across your throat, stitch like markings on either side of your mouth like a permanent smile, thorny vines and skulls and knives littered throughout your body. That wasn’t even speaking to what might be on your back, too afraid to ask anyone or try and even maneuver to see it in a mirror.

Making friends was hard, making money even harder. They said you scared people, that you looked unprofessional. But you managed, you got by. Found work in the back of a butcher shop, so far removed from the customer service section that no one would ever even catch a glimpse of you. Straight to work then straight home, maybe a chat or two with one of your gruffer co-workers, those just as covered in tattoos as you were. Those who got it, who understood you in a way no one else seemed to.

It was in one of those conversations that you got invited out for drinks, something you regretted accepting as soon as the words had left your mouth. But it was too late, your friends already abuzz with excitement at you joining them. Assuring your that this joint was filled with people like yourself.

And they didn’t lie. Every glance you took of the place revealed someone who appeared to be in a similar state to yourself. A man with a black dagger going over his eye, little blood droplets making a trail like tears down to his chin. A woman with snakes peaking all around her hairline, their tails curving along her jaw and intertwining on her chin and down her neck. Most you couldn’t make out except for giant globs of black ink painting their face. It was reassuring, putting you at real ease for the first time in a long time. Relaxed enough to have a drink, then another, then another, laughing along with some corny joke the bartender was telling when a big man sat beside you, some surgical mask over the lower half of his face, the hood of his jacket over the upper half. But it revealed just enough for you to make eye contact with him when he glanced your way, feeling the world shift beneath you and crumble away.

Soap - Colorblind until you touch your soulmate

Shades of grey. White and black, sometimes you think you might be seeing colors, something just a hint different then the usual monochrome of your existence but you turn your head….and it’s nothing, just more of the same. It was fine when you were younger, when everyone your age saw things the same way. When you were, in this sense, just like everyone else. But things changed, you got older. Your classmates changed, met their people. People who became friends, family, lovers. Their closest confidants. Their soulmates.

And you were left behind, drifting further and further from the people who you, at one point, might have called your friends. Unable to escape their giggles and whispers of seeing color, the wonder in their voice when they described how vibrant everything seemed, that shift in their eyes. And then afterwards, getting to know the person that held that other half of their soul, it was almost as emotional for them all. But you, you were left without that.

For a time you could convince yourself that it could still happen, that you could find that person, that you would be able to see what your peers did. Eventually.

But time moved, it changed, and your vision stayed the same. Unable to witness the beautiful colors of the flowers that line your driveway, the shimmering scales of fish in the pet shop, the color of a soulmate’s eyes.

You gave up after a few years after secondary school. Defeated and broken down, chipped away at by your school mate’s whispers about how you still hadn’t met your soulmate, the only one in your grade that hadn’t. You convinced yourself that you didn’t have a soulmate. That you were just one soul, not intertwined with anyone.

Or maybe they were dead.

That was the thought that haunted you, no matter how much you tried to tell yourself that it was just you. That you were different. Or that maybe you just hadn’t met them yet. It would keep you up at night, nightmares of a faceless person reaching out to you, only to fall short, darkness swallowing them whole, drifting farther and farther away no matter how much you ran after it. Always just out of reach.

It was one of those nights when you decided to take a walk, shaking hands shoved into your coat pockets and neck slick with sweat, just wandering aimlessly when you bumped shoulders with some guy you hadn’t even seen til last second.

“Ey, watch where you’re-” He started, only to stop, anger leaking into worry. “Oi, you okay?”

“Piss off-” You snapped in return, whipping around to face the man, only to freeze, eyes locked onto his, both of your pupils’ widening, visions shifting. “What….what fucking color is that?” You whisper when the grey of his irises shifted to something vibrant, bordering on overwhelming.

“Been told that they’re something called blue.” He breathed.

Gaz - His name on your wrist

Gaz.

The name written on your wrist, messy chicken scratch that resembled scribbles more than actual writing. It was confused for dozens upon dozens of other names growing up, but this one. Gaz. It resounded in your skull in a way none of the other nicer or more normal sounding ones did. It rolled off your tongue, appeared in your dreams, a whisper in your ear that just wouldn’t fade away.

Gaz.

For someone with such an unusual name, he was certainly hard to find. Everywhere you went, everywhere your friends and family went, they asked if they ever heard of anybody named Gaz, only to come up with zilch. Nada. Nothing. A needle in a haystack but it seemed the needle grew legs and ran away, or maybe even just got dropped into a wormhole somewhere. It was an unhealthy and depressing thought but it was what came to mind when you became overwhelmed with it, consumed by thoughts of an elusive soulmate that you might not be finding just because you keep getting stuck on what you think his name is instead of any of the other possibilities that it could be. It was days like this that you wanted to find your soulmate just to strangle them for their shitty handwriting that would brand you for your entire life. Written on your flesh in a deep black.

Gaz.

It was during one of these times where one of your friends asked to set you up on a blind date. A cousin of theirs, good looking they’d said. Sweet guy in the military, on break for now. If nothing else, he’d make for a good shag to take your mind off of the whole soulmate ideal. It was with great reluctance that you accepted, dressed in a semi formal/semi casual outfit for a date at a place that was a few steps above a Maccy’s but nothing michelin star worthy. Not too formal, not too casual.

And the guy was nice, introducing himself as Kyle. Shook your hand and pulled out your chair for you, letting you set the pace for the date. Made you laugh, his eyes sparkling at every chuckle you couldn’t contain. He seemed too good to be true, and you agreed to a second date despite the name inked onto your wrist.

A second date led to a third led to movie nights led to slow kisses under the sheets led to moving in together led to meeting his friends, his brothers in arms. Where, for the first time, you heard them shout his callsign.

Gaz.

Hearing it from someone else was sweeter than any of the times you’d whisper it to yourself at night.

Alejandro - The first words he says to you written on your wrist

“Now what’s a beautiful thing like you doing here all alone?”

Possibly the blandest soulmate question anyone could ever have written on their arm, looping cursive that was on the edge of appearing just a little hard to leave. The question itself may be awfully common but the handwriting was not. It was something you liked about your soulmate, tracing the letter with your thumb over and over and over until you were sure you could perfectly write out every elegant letter with your eyes closed.

It was what you were doing now, scared and curled up into a ball after being kidnapped by some drug lord or other. No matter how much you tried to plead that they had the wrong person, that you didn’t even know who they were, it didn’t matter. They snatched you up all the same, tossing you in this grimy cell and leaving you on your lonesome. You were scared, terrified. You wondered if you’d die before you even had the chance to meet your soulmate, all because they nabbed the wrong person.

It felt like weeks, but surely must have only been days, before you saw another person again, hazy, on the brink of a sleep you weren’t sure you were going to wake up from. Your eyes were heavy, so much so that they almost didn’t have the power to open again when the door slammed open, the rushing of feet following, the whoosh of fabric as someone knelt beside you and pressed their fingers to your throat, checking for your pulse.

“Now what’s a beautiful thing like you doing here all alone?” A voice whispered, an arm curving under your knees and another cradling the back of your head, a warm body pressing against you, offering you the first real source of comfort you’d had since you were taken.

“I think I’m dying of thirst.” You mumble, voice a shaky slur. So out of it that you didn’t feel the man pause for a moment before gripping you tighter.

“Probably, Amor.” He says, voice more strained now. There were more sounds now, more stomping and heavy doors slamming. It was hurting your head. “But we’ll fix you right up. Get something for you to drink.” He says, his voice fading for a moment before he said “I’m Alejandro, by the way.”

You weren’t sure the babble that left your mouth before you passed out was any sort of comprehendable to him.

[allisluv]

drabbles/thoughts part one.

main masterlist.

valentines day

sundresses

leaving lipstick marks on finnick

finnick taking care of you when you're sick

late night swims

finnick with an anxious s/o

finnick x bi!reader

finnick being whipped for you

finnick reminding you to take your meds

self care days

seeing you without makeup for the first time

finnick x reader with a body focused repetitive behavior

finnick comforting you during an autistic meltdown

finnick x singer!reader

finnick x tattooed!reader

finnick x reader with a fear of the ocean

comforting finnick after a nightmare

finnick reassuring reader with abandonment issues

demisexual!finnick x demisexual!reader

johanna x finnick x reader love triangle

finnick going for an early morning swim

spending summer with finnick

telling finnick that you'll love him even when he's turning grey

finnick x reader with germaphobia/OCD

spending winter in district four

finnick x reader post argument

finnick with a partner who likes to (affectionately) bite him

finnick convincing you to go to the doctors

finnick taking care of you post-op

finnick reassuring you when he hears you say something negative about yourself

showing off your new swimsuit to finnick*

golden retriever!finnick x black cat!reader

surfing with finnick

finnick accidentally making you cry during an argument

finnick helping reader quit smoking

finnick and reader mentoring their young tributes

finnick x reader with really bad migraines

finnick accidentally spoiling his proposal

coaxing finnick awake with kisses

finnick comforting fem!reader during their period

finnick x plant obsessed!reader

finnick comforting plus sized!reader when she overhears someone from the capitol talking about her

finnick x rockstar!reader (1) (2)

finnick x single parent!reader

lying with finnick when you're running a fever

finnick annoying his germaphobe s/o

drawing finnick

finnick x dancer!reader

finnick x artsy!girlfriend (1) (2)

calling finnick a "babygirl"

finnick buying you floaties

barbequing with finnick

finnick tempting you back to bed with kisses

reader running into a forcefield to get mouth to mouth from finnick

finnick x little!sister during pride month

finnick's take on shaving

finnick has the man flu

finnick x reader with full body tattoos

taking finnick to a rock concert

finnick having an acne flare up

watching horror movies with finnick

going shopping with finnick

seeing finnick cry for the first time

finnick helping reader babysit their little cousin

finnick when someone gropes you in school

finnick and reader sharing romantic baths together

finnick's reaction to his partner gaining weight (/pos)

cockwarming with finnick*

finnick with a s/o who's insecure about their curly hair

finnick gets his wisdom teeth removed

older brother!finnick when his sister is being harrassed

finnick x reader with seperation anxiety

finnick analysing your song lyrics

finnick x reader who knows what she wants in her relationship

finnick x reader who's first language isn't english

beach days with finnick

finnick praising you for getting your hair done

finnick helping reader with homework

teaching finnick to play an instrument

finnick when reader burns his birthday cake

finnick trying food and trying to learn the language from reader's native country

finnick x reader who gets startled easily

overstimulating sub!finnick*

finnick x oblivious reader

tying a bow around finnick's bicep

finnick with a partner who stress-bakes

finnick with a partner who craves physical touch

finnick x tall!girlfriend

finnick with a reader who stress cries

finnick with a reader who loves winter

thigh riding with finnick*

finnick is a thigh man*

finnick seeing you in a mermaid costume on halloween

finnick who's afraid of letting his walls down

finnick's handwriting

finnick eating reader out on her period*

finnick with a s/o who brings home random animals

[r3starttt]

STREAMER | GAMER! ELLIE

M.list

Streamer! Ellie who designed everything for her account, all the emotes, the panel, everything.

Streamer! Ellie who also has the most weird but cute emotes ever.

Streamer! Ellie whose social media was extremely empty until she became super viral and started to get invited to big events and stuff so now she had to post everything related to all the collaborations and stuff she did.

Streamer! Ellie who lives on tik tok and reposts everything she sees.

Streamer! Ellie who gets in lots of troubles because she likes and repost everything on every social media before actually reading the posts properly.

Streamer! Ellie who somehow hasn’t got cancelled and always clarifies any polemic she gets it (yeah, the repost issue)

Streamer! Ellie who did a stream + vlog while she got new tattoos. She did some small ones, dinosaurs, kitties; just a bunch of random and colorful tattoos that her fans actually chose on Instagram a week before.

Streamer! Ellie who played a VR horror game and had to stop mid stream because she couldn’t take it anymore and she was making a mess in the room.

Streamer! Ellie who also got scared by her cat thousands of times while playing horror games and specifically didn’t stop cursing at him during the VR stream (got insulted by her fans for disrespecting the kitty duh)

Streamer! Ellie who dropped her food on the whole desk while trying to show the chat what she was eating because nobody believed she actually ate healthy food.

Streamer! Ellie who tried to do asmr as a joke but got praised for it because turns out she’s actually good

Streamer! Ellie who did a whole karaoke + playing the guitar stream

Streamer! Ellie who got an iPad and became an oficial iPad kid

Streamer! Ellie who accidentally filtrated her number on stream and later her personal ig account but didn’t care much about it

Streamer! Ellie who loves reading hate comments and hates back

Streamer! Ellie who likes all her edits, follows all her fan accs and interacts a lot with her fans. Who answers all comments in the most weird ways too and who always gives the public what they want.

Streamer! Ellie who dedicated a small part of stream to show her sketchbooks and talk about her process to draw and tuff and also gave lots of recommendations (made everyone fangirl again because she was so sweet)

Streamer! Ellie who always gets up mid stream to feed her cat because she always forgets and doesn’t realize until the chat remembers her or she hears him crying nonstop.

Streamer! Ellie who got to meet her favorite artists, influencers, whatever at the events she got invited to and always managed to convince them to record something real quick. Who also got recognized by them and asked to say hello to family members or friends from the artist (she’s pretty and funny, how can people not know about her or not like her duhhh)

Streamer! Ellie who does streams cooking (trying to) while she’s on the supermarket, driving. She’ll take advantage of anything.

Streamer! Ellie who got some legos for free after going viral of buying and building lots of them on stream

Gamer! Ellie who has an exaggerated amount of keyboards, all colors, sizes, sounds. And uses the most basic and ugly one (doesn’t like the fancy ones to get dirty)

Gamer! Ellie who has the most expensive huge setup

Gamer! Ellie who has the most cute but weird wallpapers in both of her computers, phone and iPad (also buys every from apple)

Gamer! Ellie who loves any cute game. If there’s anything cat, dog or dinosaur thing related on a game she’ll play it.

Gamer! Ellie who buys lots of skins on any game.

Gamer! Ellie who spends lots of money in games unless she can download shit for free (has got thousands of virus)

Gamer! Ellie who puts stickers everywhere and buys cute stuff to decore her consoles.

Gamer! Ellie who has sweaty hands and hates when her phone/console gets all hot and sticky.

Gamer! Ellie who always brakes the earphones, any type, any brand.

Gamer! Ellie who likes watching videos with random facts about the games and knows all the games lore and stuff.

Gamer! Ellie who’s secretly obsessed with games like candy crush and has super high scores.

Gamer! Ellie who buys game merch and uses it on her daily fits <3

[metranart]

Mikey x Reader x Draken (Tokyo Revengers)(Part 7)

⭕️ Visit my PATREON LINK for some spicy Tokyo Rev NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.

“’M about to find out.” 

Draken draws out, and miraculously your eyes open, just a little, just a slit, peeking out, yet the dragon tattoo owner doesn’t waste time to seize this chance.

“...Is my Babygirl ready to cum for her other boyfriend?” he coos, pampering the shell of your ear with greedy smooches.

Ken Ryuguji's paternal nature combined with his utterly masculine boyish style has your head spinning, not to mention how Mikey just wrecked your entire world just minutes ago. You can still feel his cum slipping from your ass, melting your reluctance and molding you back together in a way that you’ll regret later.

“It´s too much—” You coo, “Please, Ken—…" The mention of his name halts his movements all together, attention solely on your next words, “Please, please, please, please-”

“Please what, kitten?” he wonders, “please fuck me harder, please make me cum, please keep stuffing my pretty, little cunt till I burst?... I need more specifics, my sweet girl.”

Mikey chuckles at Draken´s antics, his playful teasing is just intoxicating for the shorter blond. For no one is he willing to get on his knees, except for Ken Ryuguji, for him does it at the snap of his fingers, and you will soon discover that you too will be tamed by this glorious man, just the same.

“P-Please stop—…. I really need-need... to be able to walk in the next-t few days.”  You mutter against his throat, sobbing a little, your body shakes like when you cry but the constant falling water prevents him from see tears. You are doing everything you can to convince him, to poke at his soft spot as his hard cock pokes at yours, right fucking now. 

God! he really looks handsome when his dark eyes soften ever so slightly when you pout, blonde hair like wet noodles cascading down his strong back, tall and impossibly thick. This toman Commander just got finished from fucking you dumb the previous night, how the fuck does he still has the stamina to keep going when you already felt so fucking drained? 

“I'm not—not sure I want to cum again.” You keep pouting, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, so needy.

“Yeah?”  He returns softly, dragging a hand up your back.  “Bet I can make you want it.”

Those predatory eyes gleamed alive with the challenge, and you hurry to weave a plan b. You know you must divert his attention in a drastic way and perhaps draw Mikey´s lewd curiosity can help you achieve just that. You are grateful to be under the hot water, since at least that will help you hide the strong blush painting your cheeks, when you say.

“A-Actually, I´m a little hungry, Ken—” you grunt, tightening your hold on him and arming yourself with courage, force yourself to finish.   “Please, I want-… I want milk in my tummy.”

You make your voice sound erotically childish, a delicious beg and so, SO spoiled, it captures both boy’s attention. Having them in trance, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, pointing a finger at it. "Please, want it in my mouth." You request, pleading so prettily, Mikey´s close to have a full boner all over again.

“FUCK! Kenchin, let her!” Mikey beams from the wet floor, slowly holding himself up on his elbows. “I bet she won't even be able to swallow half of it but I really, REALLY want to see her gag trying, man.”

Draken steals a glance at you. He knows exactly what you are doing, using Mikey’s childish, spoiled nature against him. You are so clever and sly. Draken really ADORES you.

“This isn’t over,” Draken eventually warns you, gently pulling out of your stretched pussy and immediately, you feel relieve wash over you.  He turns around and shutting off the falling water from the shower, he untangles you from his waist until the soles of your feet touch the wet floor. 

“Tears don’t work on me, kitten—but... Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Goodheartedly scolds, sweeping a thick thumb over the creases of your eyes to wipe clean the remaining drops. 

You relax, smiley and dopey-eyed at finally being able to have your way at something. You weren't a fan of having to suck Draken off, but you'd rather than have him buried inside you for the next hour. You are so fucking glad, he gave in. Soon they´ll let you out, and you will go straight to a pharmacy for a birth control pill to avoid anything that could be boiling in your womb, that sounds perfect. You want this to be over as soon as possible.

“So… —”

“On your knees, baby-” Mikey butts in, tugging you down until your knees hit the ground, you find him in the same position, a mischievous grin on his face, before announcing. 

"I'll show you how to do it first and then you´ll continue…" you openly gap at him, and the blond caresses your chin, leaning down to steal a kiss from your stunned lips at his sudden declaration. "Don't you dare look away or I'll have to punish you." Mikey warns, in a playful manner, even so, something dangerous lurks behind relaxed façade, and you reduce to nod.

“Manjiro Sano has no gag reflex,” Draken replies shortly, starting to thread his fingers among his bestie´s wet tresses, darkened gaze set on his leader.  And then he doesn’t say anything more, like that explanation is more than enough.

“Oh.” You remark after a second, thinking about how many times have these two pleased each other, and still, they are considered the toughest guys around. “I see.”

Without ever being prompted, Manjiro Sano swallows his sub-commander thick piece of meat in one go, whole cock dips down his throat till his nose hit Draken´s pubic bone and stays still there. Letting the swollen tip nip at the back of his esophagus without making a single gagging noise. 

“FUCK!” Draken groans loudly, tilting his head back. “Fucking gifted this boy is~” his lips curl into a smile letting his canines show at the same time his eyelids close tight. 

Mikey mind-blowingly slowly starts to bob his head up and down Draken´s meaty shaft, coating it in his saliva while setting a faster tempo. Lazily letting his tongue peek out to slide over the sides to then dip him inside and taste it, tracing the dull edge of his teeth from time to time and massage the head of his cock until Draken is openly groaning, all dizzy and delirious. Thighs trembling erratically at how good it feels, nearing to burst way sooner than he wants to.

“That’s enough, M-Mikey.” Draken chokes out between clenched teeth, going as far as to pull the shorter blond from his thickness, a pop sound indicating how sudden the motion is.

Mikey falls on his heels, heaving loudly, eyes narrowed, cheeks burning, saliva trickling down his chin to his neck. His tongue sticking out of his mouth, like missing the thick cock that used to reside on top. His lascivious and lazy stare turns to you, and licking his lips erotically, the boy ends up saying. 

"I left it ready for you, do the same thing I did, and you're going to have more milk than you're going to be able to swallow, kitten." The leader of the Tokyo Manji advice, scooting away, leaving you room to kneel in front of his tall lover.

What a pair these two made. Both incredibly attractive and both incredibly thirsty for YOU. It is flattering and terrifying, and so, SO exhaustive.

Slowly crawling closer, you kneel in front of Draken. You can feel Mikey's anticipation, he is on the edge of the seat to see you imitate him, his strong fingers combing away your wet hair from your face, making sure each strand is behind your ears.

“Open up, baby~” Mikey stresses, almost drooling. Pupils blown, and chest heaving. Excitement eating him away. “Don´t make us wait.”

Draken's cock looks huge up closely. Flushed pink head, and thick to the base, heavy balls warning you that you will have to swallow a heavy load. Your jaw aches just thinking about having to swallow it whole.

The warmth that settles in the pit of your tummy intensifies by the shining tip of Draken´s cock, now achingly swollen and begging for attention.  

“Have you ever sucked someone before, kitten?” Draken whispers, and quickly adds.  “You look SO sexy on your knees.” The tall commander can´t stop praising you, reaching his thumb down to trace the cupid bow of your upper lip.

“Only Mikey-y....” You stammer, shying away by looking down at your hands. An both blonds, mute at the revelation. They had almost forgotten that you were a virgin just one night ago and this morning, they had already defiled you in every possible way. Nevertheless, the excitement both feel from having you is too much and overshadows guilt, making them want more than anything for you to squeeze every drop of cum out of Draken. 

“She´s not a pro,” the shorter blond states, “but it´s a fucking natural, if I recall well.” Broadly smiles, and slowly gets behind you, crawling closer until his front is glued to your back. Both kneeling, when his mischievous hands slide at each side of your neck to bluntly massage your jaw. “Open wide, gorgeous, breakfast is ready—” 

He doesn’t give you time to react when pushes you against his bestie's crotch, your closed lips smash against the swollen head at the same time you close your eyes at the brusque act. 

“So disobedient.” Mikey shares, and Draken chuckles, before you feel his thumb and forefinger pinch at your nose. The air supply is cut out and eventually your mouth opens gasping, to what Draken pushes in, just the tip, he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Your eyes pop open and Draken sees how glassy your gaze is turning, and sighing, advises. 

“Mikey, let her breathe.” 

“Oh, right.” Mikey seems to remember what his finger are doing and let go. You inhale sharply from your nose, “use your tongue, swipe it around the head…” the blond behind you whispers against your ear, and this time, you obey. 

“That’s it—” Mikey praises, “lick it like you would a lollipop.” You can hear his excited voice guide you. 

Draken reduces to watch from his privileged position, at how you swirl your tongue with slow and timid cat licks at first but then your tongue gains speed and ferocity. 

“Yeah, use your lips as well,” Mikey suggests, “hollow your cheeks—don’t be afraid to suck it deeper.”

You follow his instruction like a good pupil, and in matter of seconds, you hear Draken drown a deep growl. 

“Look how well you are doing,” Mikey grabs your hand in his to then reaches up Draken’s tense thighs, “you have him at the edge, kitten.” Guiding your palm up and down his smooth, wet skin helps you cup his balls. “This are heavy…” both weight them against your palms, and Mikey doesn’t waste time to use his free hand to push you farther until hears you gag violently against Draken’s cock, and he leans in, taking your body with the motion until he’s sucking his friend’s balls. 

The teamwork has Draken rolling his eyes to the back of his head, jaw drop open, eyes tightly shut and heart hammering fast inside his strong chest. 

“Make her-… make her bob her head, man—” he struggles to say, “please, I n-need… I need to fuck her pretty-… PRETTY face.” 

Mikey giggles against his balls sends a delicious tingle up Draken’s thick thighs, and headily groans when Mikey uses the hand on the back of your head to drag you up and down his length. Bobbing unrestingly fast inside your mouth, drool falls down your jaw and tears roll down your cheeks, your jaw aches at how wide it opens. 

“S’good,” Draken chokes out, unsure if it’s Mikey’s efforts on his balls, your tight cramped throat around his cock or both, that has his head spinning, “I’m, I’m close—” 

Draken’s palm suddenly lands on Mikey’s head drawing his attention from the task in hand, and without sharing a single word, he knows what his lover is asking. 

“Your show, love.”

You hear Mikey say as he leans out, his chin softly rests on the curve of your shoulder to have a good view, and nipping your strained jaw once, mutters. 

“Breathe through your nose the entire time, if not you’ll faint. Trust me.” 

Draken barks a laugh at Mikey’s advice, and takes your head between his warm palms, wiping the tears off your face, your eyes lock and you see that dangerous smirk peek out. Fuck! He looked driven. 

Draken evidently has been holding back, because he starts fucking you so hard that if your body wasn’t being hugged by Mikey from behind will be difficult for you to stay up on your knees. 

Gagging and choking noises fill the bathroom and your nails begin to rake down his strong thighs as you cower inside Mikey’s embrace, his cheek resting on your shoulder as you whimper softly, your sobs interrupted by moans whenever Draken’s tip kisses the back of your throat.

“Oooh she’s doing so well~” Mikey laughs, “Does she get to cum?”

“Let’s hear her beg,” Draken pipes up, pulling out of your mouth so suddenly you gasped.

“You heard him,” Mikey says, sensually chewing at your earlobe, “Beg.”

“Please,” You hear yourself say, “please Mikey, I want to cum—” you are not sure where those words are coming from, but it surprises you, your body is aching to feel some kind of comfort. Cumming doesn’t sound bad at all. Your back arches against Mikey’s chest, cracking your neck to face him, shame forgotten, “Please, please my love, can I cum?” the shorter blond can’t bite down the gasp, and Draken swears violently, way too pleased by your blessed words. 

“Mikey—” Draken breaths out, “I’m on it.” Mikey interrupts him, getting to work. 

Manjiro Sano snakes an arm down your body to rub maddening circles at your swollen clit and that sends you vaulting over the brink, your whole body jerking violently as your orgasm rips through you. Your mouth parts, but you don’t squeal, instead you pant, and then your eyes shut unhurriedly, rolling to the back of your head, as you feel your cunt flutter and clench desperately around nothing.

“She´s cumming harder and faster each time,” Mikey says, “Such a frail little mare.” You sniffle a little, tears of pure ecstasy rolling down your eyes. You look beautifully destroyed. 

“Are ya ready to swallow till the last drop I have for you, kitten?” Draken asks and you shake your head no, but you mouth redeems you by saying a lazy and quiet “yes”. He smirks, pleased by how good your body is responding to their conditioning and looks at Mikey. “Sano, finish me off, this kitten is way too cock drunk.” 

“Yes, Sir!” Mikey beams, and without delay swallows Draken’s cock down, “I’m so fucking close,” his friend is quick to warn, “make sure you leave the milk for her—AHHHH. Fuck. Manjiro!” 

Draken’s grip on Mikey’s hair becomes bruising as he feels himself get impossibly hard inside his wet and warm mouth, bobbing his head up and down at the right speed, knowing by heart the way he likes it. Doesn’t take much for Draken to blast a stream of violent swearing, Mikey’s sign to pull out and make you engulf that throbbing cock, your body trembles as vast ropes of musty cum paint your throat white, you gag a little. 

“Swallow down, baby, Kenchin’s loads are fucking thick.” Mikey makes sure to hold your head in place with one hand, while with the other caresses your neck, tenderly.

Draken finally relaxes, shooting a hand to firmly grab hold of the bend under your chin, taking slow, deep breaths through his mouth and tries to relax the tensing muscle of your jaw wrapping around his girth with soothing circular motions of his thumbs. 

“Did ya swallow all, kitten?” He heaves out, and you nod once you can gulp down the last drop. 

“Such a wonderful, and precious girlfriend we have, ain´t that right, Sano?” 

Mikey lets go of your head, allowing Draken’s flaccid cock to slip out of your stretched lips, and kissing the skin on your neck, replies. 

“The fucking love of our life’s, without a fucking doubt.” You feel him hug you tight, and Draken gets down over his heels to be at eye level with the two of you. 

“Now, sweetness, let’s take you out to eat something, you can’t just have milk.” Mikey chuckles at his jeer, and you feel your body relax against Mikey’s. Finally, you glimpse a way out. 

“Maybe we can finish bathing..." Mikey snickers out, “I mean, this time actually do it.” 

Your body is limp against him, and you couldn't care less what they want to do.

“Sure, all this was a happy accident.” Draken lips curl into a sassy smile.

“Sort of.” Mikey smiles wryly.

The next thing you know is that Draken smoothly interlaces his fingers among your wet tresses doing a soft massage as he washes the sweat and grim out of your hair. 

Meanwhile, Mikey passes a soft sponge through your front, lifts your arms to slide the soft material and down your collarbone, trances the shape of your breast putting special attention to the way your smooth skin shines enticingly at being soaped up, and biting down a gasp, scrubs your belly to then kneel and wash the length of your curvy legs. 

Standing up, a big smile blooms in his face seeming content with his work and sporting the child inside him, beams. 

“My turn.”

Closing his eyes waits for you to get to work since you are a little more awake, and the sound of the splashing water sounds louder in your ears when you openly ignore his request. 

Mikey is still waiting, eyelids closed, and arms spread open as if waiting for you to claim the space between. After a couple of seconds of inactivity from your part, you see how he tilts his head slightly down. His sign for you to wash his hair first, but you don’t find the strength to move. 

After a couple of tense minutes, a bottle of shampoo materializes out of thin air, or so you think, and gently pours its content over the golden haired Toman leader´s tresses. 

Tipping your eyes up, you notice how Draken steps in and without asking you guides your hands into Mikey’s hair. 

Both your fingers entangle among his golden strands while creating foam and bubbles, and untangling his strong hands from the task, the tall teen commands. 

“Do as I do with you, (y/n).”

You stare at him for a minute before obeying, a little moved at how stern he is looking down at you as if expecting for you to rebel against him, and quietly huffing, you follow his instructions.

Mikey literally melts into your touch, almost purring at every movement of your fingers among his hair. The three of you bathe each other, in tender and measured movements full of affection and devotion, nothing compared to when they fuck you. They are totally different people when are not horny.

This same routine of thirds follows when you get dressed. So utterly patient and steadfast in the way they manipulate your body taking their time to dry and brush your wet mane before wrapping it in a towel, then fold you in each piece of clothing almost like wives dressed their samurai husbands in ancient times.

A soft kiss being deposited along your washed and flushed skin each time it seems fit for them.

The bed dips beneath Sano Manjiro’s weight while he entertains himself braiding your soft hair and once the three are ready and presentable again, you shiver for you realize you no longer remembered how his voice sounded without being excited.  

“.... I know a place nearby that has the best dorayaki,” you don't answer him, yet Draken nods and soon the three of you walk towards the door and before opening it, Draken looks at you out of the corner of his eye. 

"We are stronger and faster, baby, I don't recommend you trying our patience..." you feel Mikey's hand rest on the small of your back, supporting his partner´s warning, "I really, REALLY wouldn't try it." 

A derisive snort leaves your lips and Mikey´s voice makes its appearance closer to your ear than you expected, "—Nor will I discard this helpful advice either, because as we can be devoutly good,” he nips at your earlobe, playfully but that playfulness dies fast as his teeth clench harder, to make his next words clear. “We can also be very, VERY bad."

COMING SOON PART 8....

⭕️ In my PATREON LINK you will find NSFW art of this story and lots of content from Tokyo Rev and jjk, exclusive smut fanfiction and animation like THIS ONE . Plus! voting poll privilege for the exclusive Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the couple and kinky mood for the story and NSFW art, and of course, my eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

[hunterofartemis7]

Damian and Raven headcanon

Raven gets overstimulated like stupidly easily. Kori, Dick and Damian do what they can to help her when it happens

Damian will cook for her whenever she wants and it drives his siblings crazy

The bat siblings try and beg Damian to make “fancy Aribic food” but he’ll only do it for raven

Damian refuses to bring Raven to Gotham. Simply for the fact that as an empath, it would break her

Damian hates having his hair played with but if raven asks, he immediately lays his head in her lap and lets her do whatever she wants

The bat bros have dozens of different pictures and videos that they try and use as blackmail but it never works. Well, it works cause Damian wants to kill them but Raven thinks it’s cute so he calms down

Damian once handed raven body paint and told his to draw over the scars on his body, like go nuts a draw whatever. He’s currently working on getting all of them tattooed

Raven had one really bad scar across her back that she’s very sensitive about. Damian always reassures her that it’s nothing to be ashamed of

Raven is his muse. Almost everything he draws, Raven is in it

Raven once convinced Damian to let her put make up on him and paint his nails for pride month

His siblings teased him at first then thought it was really sweet.

He now lets her and any of his LGBTQ siblings do this make up on pride month, and Raven paints his nails whenever she wants

Raven tried to make him an Arabic dish when they first started dating….and almost set the kitchen on fire. He appreciated that she tried

Dick, Jason and Tim tried to do the same thing and actually set the kitchen on fire. Damian wasn’t impressed

[shawnxstyles]

prank? more like spank

DATE: JANUARY 28, 2023

summary: after a day out with your friends, they convince you to prank your boyfriend tom that you got a vaginal piercing. once you break the news, he has to see for himself.

request: yess

words: 3.6k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [pussy spanking, clit play/edging, masochism, slight nipple play], dirty talk, aftercare) language, and fluff.

note: THIS TITLE IS SO FUNNY PLEASE. the gif is so random too 😭 sorry i’ve been so inactive, i’m so busy!! tom masterlist

soft dom!tom

—

“What if I just got a tattoo?” You ask spontaneously as you approach the tattoo and piercing shop. You and your friends were wandering around town, having a much-needed girl day. The two girls stare at you for a moment before giggling hysterically.

“You hate pain and plus, Tom would freak!” Alina laughs harder at your ridiculousness. She had a few simple tattoos herself; small ones on her hands and elegant drawings on her arms. Her black hair was long and sleek, always looking on-point. Even though her tattoos fit her beautifully, it didn’t convince you to get one. You could never get a tattoo, even if you were paid.

“What about a piercing?” You suggest. You have had your lobes pierced since you were young, but you’ve never desired anything else. Nose and lip rings were trendy when you were in high school, but you never understood why anyone would ever put metal inside of their face, let alone the more sensitive parts of their body.

“Again, your pain tolerance is very low,” Alina says, swinging her small bag of leftover food from lunch. “Did you know people pierce their vaginas?”

“Of course. I’ve considered it,” Reyna nonchalantly inserts. You and Alina gawk at her, dumbstruck because she’s never mentioned anything like that before. One thing about Reyna was that she always surprised you; there was always something you didn’t know. One day, she said she was getting a tattoo, so she did. Another, she said she was going to Venice, so she did. In a way, she was very good at keeping her word, which made her a great friend.

Her body was littered in tattoos from top to bottom. Her drawings were thick, dark, and colorful along her naturally tan skin. Her ears were engulfed in pieces of jewelry, while her nose held a septum and two opposing studs. How did she breathe? Her red-dyed hair was frizzy and wavy and shaped her face just right. Her eyes were a hazel, but could easily pass for a shade of green.

“What does it even pierce? Where does the jewelry go?” You ask, trying to imagine how painful it would be on a scale.

“Your clitorus,” Reyna answers, sipping from her straw casually.

“That’s like the most sensitive part!” Your face screams in horror. Why would anyone ever do that to themselves? You feel your legs clench in protection like you can feel the blinding pain just picturing it.

Unfathomable out of ten you decide on when thinking back to the scale.

“I don’t think you could pay me to get that done. Even if I could have it removed,” Alina shakes her head in disapproval.

“When I told Riker I was thinking about it, he was freaking the fuck out. He was trying to be supportive, but I can tell he was scared,” Reyna chuckles. Her boyfriend was the complete opposite of her. She is sociable and outgoing, and is always at someone’s place to party. Riker, her boyfriend of eight months, was a homebody who played video games in his free time. Their largest sharing characteristic is that they are extremely hardworking, which led them to meet while working at the same job.

Ah. Romance.

“I can’t even imagine how Tom would react,” You say, eyes wandering the ground.

“You should see,” Alina suggests.

“What do you mean?”

“Tell him you got a piercing. See what he says,” Reyna adds for clarification.

“Oo, you should record it!” Alina claps giddily and you laugh at their ideas. You shake your head at the recording part, but heavily consider the main idea. Why not have a little fun? You turn over your shoulder and peer at the tattoo and piercing shop that fades in the distance as you continue to walk. Your sundress flows in the spring breeze as you bite your lip.

“Okay,” You shake your head, somehow convinced to play a stupid joke on your innocent, loving boyfriend.

“Ah, how I love a good prank,” Reyna smiles to the sky as you all approach the car.

—

When the girls drop you home first, you wave goodbye to them and then head straight for the door. The sun was beginning to set in the evening, and you wondered what Tom had been doing all day.

“I’m back!” You shout, removing your shoes and hanging up your purse. His response echoes from the kitchen and you walk toward him with nerves.

You weren’t the most convincing liar, so trying to pull off a prank was going to be difficult. Your fingers fiddle anxiously as he turns around from the stove to face you. A soft smile curls on his lips and your insides melt. However, your heart races in extreme nervousness because he looks so innocent and unknowing.

Oh, he’s so going to fall for it.

“Hey, baby. How was your girl’s day?” Tom’s hands slide under your arms and hug you securely. His lips press a firm and tender kiss on your forehead and you sigh softly.

“It was… exciting,” Your eyes sparkle as you stare at him. He looks at you, patiently waiting for you to continue. But you don’t, you wait for him to ask.

“What was so exciting, love?” He delicately brushes the wispy hair from your face, admiring every one of your facial features. Tom was so in love with you, he couldn’t help but stare in disbelief that you were really his.

“I got a piercing!” You smile widely as you squeeze Tom’s biceps in exaggerated excitement. Tom raises his eyebrows, not expecting you to say that. He always just assumed you went out for lunch or went shopping. He would have never assumed you got a piercing, especially knowing how much you hate unnecessary pain.

“You did? Where?” Tom smiles as he curls your hair behind your ears, scouting for the nonexistent jewelry. His eyebrows scrunch when he searches your face as well, but doesn’t find anything.

“It’s on my clit,” You whisper sweetly, biting your lip. Your heart pounds in your chest and you’re hoping he can’t feel it. You tried your best to hold in your laugh at his reaction.

Tom’s eyes widened so much, you thought they were going to pop out of their sockets. He blushes profusely and pulls away from you, cheeks a rosy pink as his jaw practically slides along the kitchen tile. He dryly coughs, trying to hide how flabbergasted he is.

You smile wider and harder, trying not to break your act. Seeing Tom so shocked makes you want to burst out laughing at how easily he fell for it. He knows you absolutely hate pain, yet he still believed it.

“I-I thought you hated pain…” He starts breathily, “What…how…?”

“Reyna convinced me. She said it feels great when having sex,” The lies spill from your mouth before you could even process what it meant. Did that even make sense?

Tom blinks rapidly, mind racing at the change. He didn’t even know that one could get their clit pierced. He never would have thought you would want to get yours done. He remembers early on in your relationship when you told him you cried the entire time when you got your ears pierced. And when you got your shots at the doctors. He even remembers you telling him you cried when you first had sex… but that was understandable. But being reminded of that just makes him even more confused on why you would get something so painful.

You must have cried a lot, he thinks. His heart aches a tad because he wasn’t there for you.

“Well… can I see it?” Tom tries to cool down his burning red face, but it only seems to intensify as he imagines seeing it; your clit irritated and puffy as a bar of metal sears through it.

Now, it was your time to widen your eyes. You tried to hide it by wandering your eyes all over the place, but if anything, that just made it more obvious you were hiding it. Tom contorts his face in mild confusion at your hesitation as you laugh nervously.

“Y/N, can I see the piercing?” He repeats, stalking a bit closer to you.

“No!” You deny too quickly, backing away from him like he was psychotic.

“No? Baby, I’m going to see it eventually. Might as well see it now,” He smiles, reassuringly as you struggle to come up with more lies. Why did you think he wouldn’t want to see it?

“It’s um… really swollen and puffy. You can’t even see it,” You shake your head as you wave it off, swallowing your nerves dryly. Tom skeptically squints his eyelids, puzzled at your sudden defensiveness.

“I can’t see it? How do you know? I haven’t even tried yet.”

“I looked. It’s like it’s not even there,” Nervous laughs release from your mouth and you would be surprised if he still believed you.

Then he quirked an eyebrow, sensing your deceitfulness. Your nervousness gives him a growing confidence. He licks his lips and clicks his tongue, a sly smirk threatening to curl up on his lips.

“Let me see it, Y/N.”

“No!”

Before you could even take off in a sprint, Tom’s arms are tightened securely around your waist. He drags your flailing body and hoists you up onto the kitchen counter, forcing you to stay seated. You wiggle profusely underneath his strong grip, but realize it’s no use compared to his thick muscles. You huff, annoyed that he captured you.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself since you want to be so stubborn,” He grumbles as he crumples the sundress up to your waist. You hold your breath, hands gripping the counter. He forces your legs to spread, eye level with your panties. Your cunt aches as it begins to dampen the material.

“Is the piercing making you that wet? Or is it something else?” Tom taunts, yanking the flimsy fabric until it’s tossed along the kitchen floor. Waves of heat creep up your neck at how close he is to your cunt. He’s seen you naked a million times for your usual sensual, soft sex. But with a lie in between you, you don’t know what to expect.

Tom’s arms lock your thighs to the marble counter. He stares at your pussy, looking as gorgeous as ever. He takes his rough fingers and carefully spreads your soaking folds, inspecting for a piece of jewelry. You gasp as more arousal leaks out of your pussy, begging for more friction. As he gets closer to your clit, you whine from the teasing.

“Well, your clit is puffy… but I don’t see any piercing,” Tom pretends to pout like he hadn’t known you were lying most of the time. His thumb delicately taps your neglected nerves, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. “Why did you lie, baby?”

“I don’t know,” With clenched teeth, your eyes focus solely on his devoid touches. Your mind is so distracted by the tedious teasing, you barely comprehend his words. Before you could even reconsider your answer, Tom slaps his hand directly on your clit. You yelp as your hips thrust forward at the mixture of pleasure, pain, and shock that sears through your body. Your clit throbs as you continue to seep on the cold counter, more desperate than ever.

“Another lie. You’re being such a bad girl today. Do I need to punish you?” He questions, palm rubbing deliberately slow on the hood of your clit. Your body trembles as you roll your hips against his hand. With an upset growl, his hand comes down on you again, harsher and more demanding than before. A needy moan escapes you, your hands clawing at his T-shirt. “You just never learn.”

Tom tsks disappointingly and spreads your legs impossibly wider, juices leaking onto the solid surface below you. The texture of his hands roaming your skin created the most sinful scenes in your head. You imagined his thick digits pushing into your cunt, slippery and soft as he thrusts deeper and deeper. You mewled just at the thought, causing him to stare at you curiously.

“What are you thinking about? Hm? Answer me truthfully this time or I won’t even consider you coming tonight,” Tom demands as he flicks your pulsing clit, causing your body to jolt in surprise. Your hands squeeze his muscular shoulders as you try to remain still.

“Your hands. I love your hands,” You admit breathily. Tom slowly removes the loose straps of your dress until they’re slipping off your smooth shoulders and down your arms. He reveals your breasts, nipples pointed and neglected.

With a smirk, his dominant hand continues to deliberately stroke up and down your clit, while his other toys with your nipples. Your breathing heaves as your eyes gawk at his motions, getting more turned on just from the sight. He twists and pulls on your buds until they’re aching painfully good. Tom makes sure his hand tickles your skin when it trails down your torso to add more stimulation to your clit.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, darling,” One hand forces your legs open while the other collects your arousal too lightly. You clench around nothing, pleading for his teasing to end. He resumes his delicate tapping on your nerves, making you whine in agony. “Why did you lie?”

Your heart races and thighs begin to shake from being stretched out.

“I-I wanted to see how you would react,” You reply breathily as he repeatedly taps you. You roll your hips in circles, trying to get more friction against the pad of his thumb. He hums, satisfied yet evilly.

“So this is what you wanted?” Tom slots his middle finger into your seeping hole, causing you to gasp as if it was your first time. With all the teasing, you were sensitive to any little touch, grateful for what he was giving you. “Wanted me to freak out, wanted me to punish you?”

You release a nosy moan, clutching around his digit as it sinks into you deeply. You nod your head to every thrust of his finger, slow and tedious. As your high builds from the edging, his finger is removed from your cunt, empty and aching. You elicit uncontrollable whines as you scoot to the edge of the counter to get closer to his hand. His hand grips your hip tightly to ensure you stay still.

“No, no. This is a punishment, baby. If it gets too much, let me know, but,” Tom husks with a soft expression. When you nod impatiently, waiting for his next moves, his sinful glare returns to your eyes. “you said you liked my hands, so I’m going to give you one.”

Tom’s hand strikes down on your pussy, a wet slapping sound against your arousal. You squeak with a strong grasp on his shoulders as he smirks, pleasured from catching you off guard. He spanks you again, clit throbbing under the palm of his hand. Your stomach tightens as you grind into the air, begging for more. When his hand slaps you again, he makes sure to directly strike your bundle of nerves, making you tremble immensely.

Fireworks shoot through your body like you’ve never felt before. The sensation was a mixture of pleasure and pain; so shocking and blissful you thought you might pass out. You never would’ve thought you’d be enjoying something as agonizing as spanking, especially on one of the most sensitive parts of your body.

You felt hypocritical and pious; for someone who hated even the idea of pain, enjoying spanking was the last possibility crossing your mind.

But each slap of skin sent you higher into the sky as you floated with ecstasy. Even though you were inching closer to heaven, you’ve never felt more sinful and devilish in your life.

Tears slip down your face as you moan in euphoria. Your core clenches and your eyes roll back as you lose your grip to reality. Your legs beg to close, but Tom’s hand and body forces them to remain open.

“Look at you. Enjoying your punishment,” Tom tsks as his thumb rapidly circles your clit. You gasp with a cry, shaking violently from the blinding pleasure. “Are you going to come from me playing with your clit? Hm? From me spanking you?”

His words have your stomach tensing and mind spinning. You felt like you were flying through a starry haze; a dreamland where everything felt too good to be true. Your high builds and builds until you’re falling down so fast, you’re floating gracefully. Waves of euphoria crash through your body as your muscles spasm, chants of his name repeatedly leaving your lips.

A knowing and encouraging smirk is in your view as he rubs you out, draining you of your orgasm. The white moisture coats his hand before he brings it up to his lips and licks his fingers clean.

Your pussy lips pulsate as your clit continues to throb in irritation from the spanking. Your breathing relaxes as you blink away the glossiness from your eyes. Tom licks his lips, smiling goofily at you as he wipes away your tears.

“You did so well for someone who doesn’t like pain,” Tom compliments as he smooths your wild hair away from your tear-stained cheeks. You roll your eyes with a raspy chuckle and shake your head. “Let’s clean you up, yeah? And how was it?”

“I didn’t think… I never would have thought…” Your mind continues to blur as you forget the words on your tongue. Pulling up the straps of your sundress, you try to recall what you were going to say. “I liked it, surprisingly. A lot. Like a lot a lot.”

Tom chuckles at your enthusiasm and leans in to you. His lips lock with yours in a breathtaking kiss, rocking back and forth. Similar fireworks spark in your body again as you wrap your hands around his neck to sink deeper into him. His tongue slots into your mouth with ease, making you melt in heart-bubbling bliss.

To catch a breath, you release from each other, you now both wearing silly, fond smiles.

“This doesn’t mean you’re going to get a piercing… right?” With skepticism and hopefulness, Tom looks at you. You bite your lip, pretending to really consider it.

“I mean, now that I have an amazing tolerance to pain, I might as well. I have nothing to lose!” You push Tom away and hop off the counter with an overwhelmingly ecstatic smile. With shaky legs, you sprint out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

A burning sensation is felt on the skin of your vagina as your legs rub against the irritation surface. You hiss and wince as you make your way up the stairs. You regret running away from Tom because he said he was going to take care of you. Your skin screams in agony as you make it to the bed. You didn’t think it would be this painful, especially after he just spanked you. And you liked it.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He shouts as he jogs up the staircase. “Swear, she’s going to be the death of me.” He mumbles to himself before entering the bedroom.

He finds you lying on the bed, wincing with a pinched face. His expression softens as he comes to your aid.

“What’s wrong, lovie?” Tom rubs your shoulder, searching over your body for injuries. Your hands push down on the material of the dress right over your burning mound. He nods in sudden understanding before heading toward the bathroom. He comes back with a tube of some type of cream or ointment. “Lay back, baby.”

You do as he says and crawl back until your head is relaxing comfortably on the pillows. He slowly widens your tense legs and flicks the flare of your dress up to your hips. He takes a peek at your irritated skin, a deep frown on his lips. With the cream on his fingers, he very gently rubs it onto you. It’s cold, almost too cold compared to the heated burn on your skin. But the contrast cools you and relieves all your pain, causing you to sink into the mattress calmly.

“Better?” Tom asks, softly applying the medicine to the bare areas.

“Yes,” You sigh with your head thrown back, breathing steadily. Tom bites his lip, looking at your distraught figure.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I went too hard. I’ll never do it again—”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, Tom. Really, I liked it. I’m not lying this time,” He smiles softly at you and you return the favor reassuringly. He hovers above you and gives you a graceful kiss on the lips. He falls beside you and stretches to grab some tissues for his hands to clean off the cream. Then you two lay in the comfortable silence of each other.

“If I really did get a piercing though, how would you react?” You question, turning your head towards his.

“Probably the same.”

“Noted,” You smirk, causing him to turn his face in slight horror at your back and forth attitude. “Kidding! I can’t even handle moderate pain.”

“You’re crazy.”

You infamously roll your eyes before he kisses you again, making you forget everything. You laugh against his lips, causing the whole kiss to be a sloppy mess. In hysterics, you both laugh full heartedly as you pull away.

“Come on. Let’s go finish dinner,” Shaking his head, Tom gets up from the bed and begins to walk back downstairs to the kitchen.

“What if I got, like, a tongue piercing?” You shout from the bedroom. You hear him groan in annoyance as you follow him to the kitchen.

Oh, you loved pranking your boyfriend.

—

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes

[julianalvarez9]

saw her first / mason mount & christian pulisic

request: hi! since your request is open can i request for a christian pulisic fic where reader is dating christian and she’s mason’s bestfriend. 3 of them are hanging out together in mason’s house and mason was complaining about his day to christian & reader but she is distracted by christian’s arm tattoos, she keep tracing it and inspecting it like she has never seen it before and mason is sooo done with reader’s behaviour and he called her out. make it fluffy, funny and sweet please!! thank you ❤️

pairing: bff!reader x bff!mason x bf!christian

word count: 0.9k

author's note: took me a bit but here it is! hope you like it 🤍

nothing had been going like mason wanted today.

he was rambling about it ever since he got through the door with your boyfriend, christian, just after practice. his effusive hands and his pacing throughout your flat reflected how conflicted he was about whatever it was that he was talking about, but running on almost no sleep it was almost impossible to catch what he was saying. mason stopped, dead in his tracks, and looked straight at you, once he realized you weren't replying to anything he was saying. he saw that you were too caught up in your boyfriend's tattoos in his left arm, tracing with your finger every line that adorned his skin.

you knew his arm like it was your own, having your finger traveling throughout the lines that dressed his skin with all sorts of drawings even before you two became a couple. mason obviously noticed your lack of attention to his complaints, and fuelled the anger that was already brewing in his bones.

“y/n, are you even listening to me?” he exclaimed, stopping on his tracks and getting his hands on his hips, eyes glaring at you when you dared to lift up your own, paying attention again once you heard your name.

you replied, maybe too quick to sound convincing. “of course i am!”.

mason lifted his eyebrows in an interrogative way, while christian stood up to find a glass of water in the kitchen, wanting to avoid his friend's wrath once he caught onto your lie.

“then what did i say?” he questioned, and his wicked smile grew the longer you took to answer him. “something about tuchel…?” you said, in a doubtful tone, clearly unsure about your answer. he opened his eyes wide at your mention of the german man who used to be chelsea's manager -key word, used. not anymore.

he raised his hands towards the sky, and then down onto his hair, looking like he might rip his head off. christian could only cough, trying to avoid getting drowned with the liquid he had been drinking before hearing your answer. “he hasn’t been with us since september!” mason said, high pitch in his voice noting how frustrated he was. you noticed he had tears in his eyes when he seated across from you, head in his hands that were supported in his legs. preoccupied by his reaction, you almost jumped to your feet, crouching by his side to hug him tightly.

“right, i’m sorry. i didn’t get to meet the new manager yet. i'm sorry, mase” you tried to explain, thinking that he was so mad at you that his anger spilled in tears. he lifted his gaze from his hands, to look at you through his glazed eyes. “you haven’t been coming to the matches?” mason said, voice broken in disbelief. you heard christian moving back into the living room, standing behind his friend to gently caress his head in a comforting way.

you explained, voice soft while looking back and forth between your best friend and your boyfriend behind him. “work has been insane these past few weeks. i promise i’ll be at the bridge for the next one, okay?”. you received a sympathetic smile in return, eyes now full of gentleness as they always were with mason. christian muttered, trying not to sound too judging but stating the truth nonetheless. he would never say something negative about your job, but he did miss seeing your face in the stands, cheering for him on the bridge or anywhere he played at. “you’ve been promising that to me since october…”, he noted.

“yeah, but i’m promising it to masey boy here” you said, jokingly, wanting to tease your boyfriend a bit. they always bickered about who’s your favorite, and even now, when you've been dating christian for almost two whole years, and he clearly knowing that he's got your heart completely, annoying him with mason never got old.

“you’re my girlfriend!” the american player said, big pout in his fully plump lips. you raised to your feet again, and gave him a quick peck on the lips, at which he grinned in return. mason, still in the couch and now under both of you, tried to separate you, like a little kid getting jealous about his mum and dad showing displays of affection in front of him. he got up, and turned to face christian now, pointing his finger accusingly at him. “she was my childhood neighbor before being your girlfriend, mate, i saw her first” he noted, smile that split his face in half at thinking he had won the argument. he always used that card against christian, even though you two hadn't really met there, only being aware of that fact due to your mom finding a pic of you and mason at one of your brother's birthday.

“yeah but-” your boyfriend tried to replicate, but you had grown tired of the argument replaying again and again, time after time, always with the same ending -no one winning, as you loved both boys to death. “enough of that!," you glared at both of them, two sets of wide eyes in return at your sudden raise in tone. an idea came to mind, and you, not being one to pass onto the fun, decide to joke a bit with the two best friends. "i’ll call tuchel to suspend both of you if you continue this nonsense” you quipped.

“for the last time, it’s potter now, y/n!" they both yelled at you, at which you could only laugh, clearly pleased with the annoyed look in both their faces.

[mahi-wayy]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 | 𝑴𝑨𝑯𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑨 𝑩𝑨𝑯𝑼𝑩𝑨𝑳𝑰 (𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑽𝑼𝑫𝑼)

• General • Romantic [both. sfw and nsfw.]

I - GENERAL

he is such a dumbass. [affectionate and unamused]

brat. spoiled brat.

his sense of right and wrong is a little blurred.

sanga never really said NO or punished him all that much other than when it came to climbing the waterfall.

immature. childish. has a certain innocence.

doesn't understand complex things in one go but at the same time has excellent surviving skills.

avoided political lessons until devasena dragged him by his ear.

is the darling king of mahishmati.

the people LOVE him.

was found sneaking out of palace late at night. turned out he had been going to visit the people to get to know them for past week.

makes devsena cry everytime he smiles because he resembles his father so much.

once went missing for a month only to be found all the way back in the tribe he grew up in.

matured rapidly once he crowned as the mahishmati king.

realized he was idiot for the whole dress up thing and apologised to avanthika atleast five times.

still feels like dying when she teases him about it.

got married at same day as devasena and amrendra.

has a weird habit of staring at the fire on top of palace. it calms him down apparently.

kattapa cried when he finally registered mahendra calling him "dada" or grandfather basically.

develops self worth issues after he hears all about his father bcz he fears he will never even remotely come close to his legacy.

anxiety too because everything was so new.

the first time he had a anxiety attack was a month after his coronation.

devasena was the one who guided him through it.

has the same habit as his father of cracking knuckles or yapping when nervous/anxious.

he understands his grandmother, he respects her a LOT. he just doesn't adore her as much as say his mothers.

had his father's sword repaired to its glory after it suffered sevre damage when it got burned.

DOES NOT get along with bijjaladeva. he had tried to kill him a couple of times just got held back by devasena or avanthika or kattapa.

suffers migraine due not being used to his much stress.

HAS ADHD.

keeping him focused is a TASK.

the tension after his and devsena's arguments can be felt throughout the whole kingdom.

these two are stubborn, fearless and have the same anger. so yeah the arguments are...something to say the least.

does not back down from his point if he believes in it. has to be convinced with a lot of patience.

curses a lot.

man got no filter he speaks whatever he feels.

once called a old minister infront of the whole court and it surprised everyone.

isn't disrespectful but not soft either.

not as trusting as his father.

not a morning person. only sanga, avanthika and over the time devasena can try waking him up.

everyone was surprised when sanga narrated the shiv-ling incident except for devasena. she cried for some reason.

she also teared up when she heard sanga call him shivudu for the first time.

he has immense knowledge of herbs and medicines or the forest in general.

drew tattoos for devasena too. it was something related to his father.

II - ROMANTIC

SFW

will make the first move but he doesn't have flirting skills. AT ALL.

natural clumsy charm.

hand made gifts.

stargazing dates>>>>

teaches his partner how to draw body art. does it for them most of the time.

sleeps as the small spoon or half on top of his partner.

NSFW

bratty sub.

won't listen until he is punished.

hair pulling shuts him up real quick.

degradation kink the size of mahishmati.

call him a slut and he will moan like one.

whiner and cries too.

overestimulation is a yes.

doesn't like his hands tied. gag and blindfold are okay.

cries and begs.

----

tags : @mayakimayahai @warnermeadowsgirl @vijayasena @voidsteffy @jkdaddy01 @rambheem-is-real @allari-ammayi @mellaga-karagani @ulaganayagi @khushireadsandrambles

[freedelusionshere]

The way Carmy absolutely does not trust Mikey and Richie having the best of intentions for him in Fishes about Claire, so they have to go get Stevie (the one who there is an obvious running joke that he’s gay when he’s not) to convince Carmy they’re not pranking him tells us a lot. About how messy Mikey and Richie are together at that point. But they probably started in on Carmy way earlier and we know because they were making fun of him drawing pictures of her at least in high school.

Richie starts back up with this immediately when Carmy returns to The Beef after Mikey is gone (gayrod, other slurs). Mikey was just extremely jealous of Carmy refusing to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Even though it made him not cool, he was still drawing fashion in classes. Mikey found a way to get attention, but it’s not who he really was. Carmy later plays Mikey as Logan (Mikey/Donna dynamic), trying it on to impress Claire (which tells us what he thinks about what she really wants, and also he’s bad at it).

Carmy was also around Stevie and Michelle in NYC. We see Stevie looking after Carmy when he comes home late at night. To what degree he observed their relationship is hard to say, but they’re examples of parental figures in his life who (as far as we know) weren’t toxic and were encouraging, and literally sheltered him from abuse in the home. But I imagine he did see them together at points, and evidence of their relationship in their home.

Syd, also, is like Michelle’s whispered “Keep going.” She is like those words come to life for him. When she eats his blood orange sub at Empire, that is literally what he was doing to defy Chef David. Who also bullied and abused him about his tattoos, his stature, him not being “tough” (not masculine or the right kind).

When he tries out the toxic Chef David stuff, look who is calling him out, not triggering it.

[star-farer]

burdened backbones

Summary: When peace is found in the most unlikely moment. AU: Imperial Taglist: @kybercrystals94 @fionas-frenzy @padawancat97 @margindoodles2407 @dreamsight73 @comfy-vember

Comfy-vember 2024, Week 2: Verbal affirmation — Loving gaze, Day 7: Eye of the storm — Sleeping on shoulder

A quiet sigh draws him gently away from his thoughts. His shoulder warms with the firm hand that squeezes it. “Your turn to hit the racks, vod.”

He tries to get a hum of acknowledgement out of his throat, but it gets caught as a rasp somewhere deep in his chest. One horrific moment sees him reliving Wrecker’s hands around his neck. It passes when he buries his face deep in tufts of bright curls, his hold on the girl in his lap tightening.

He almost lost her. He almost lost them all.

How many times is he going to fail?

“Hunter.”

Echo’s voice, ever so soft and kind, makes him turn his face to rest with the tattoo on the little head, one eye glinting at the man he’s come to call ori’vod. He watches Echo turn the co-pilot’s seat and ease down into it, leaning over with elbows on knees.

His expression is open, earnest, as it always has been. It’s one of the many things Hunter appreciates about Echo, his unabashed steadiness and surety, his bold honesty come what may. Still, Hunter can't help but brace himself for what his ori'vod has to say.

“It isn’t just Crosshair and the Empire gunning after us, now. Someone wants Omega badly enough they sent two bounty hunters after her.” Echo pauses, pursing his lips. “You know what this means.”

He does know what it means, even if it makes him shudder and shrink and curl his arms tight around Omega. Their already precarious situation is quickly taking on levels of jeopardy he had prayed it would never reach.

He never wanted this for his squad, never wanted any of this for his aliit.

One wrong move, one misstep, and they could topple headfirst into a world of danger. Like wading through a simulation of traps and snares, no matter which way his foot stretches, there’s always trouble waiting to swallow them whole.

Crosshair was right, he thinks, and a sense of betrayal slides through his stomach like a needle. Crosshair was right. I’m not fit to lead this squad.

He's always tried so hard to fill that impossible role of responsibility. Always tried to do what's best for his squad first and foremost against all odds. He didn't ask to be the leader, the eldest. The mantle is, unfortunately, his to bear.

A moment sees him losing himself to days long past, when he was as young as the child in his arms, when all he had were three defective clones for brothers and the rest of the world all but loathed them. He remembers little of those times, and for good reason. He’d buried them easily enough in some ceaseless pit of his mind.

There are memories that resurface, however, despite his attempts. Of fingernails biting into his palm, of jaws aching with the pressure of clenching them, of burning faces and bloodied knuckles, of tears and terror and pain indescribable, of bright lights and cruel instruments.

But his vod’ike — he’ll never forget his vod’ike. Their screams still echo in his worst nightmares, their wide, pleading eyes haunting him. Once, and only once, he had attempted to defy authority as a naive cadet, to save his brothers from the pain by rebelling. That was the day he learned he could never alleviate their circumstance as defective and experimental clones, only worsen it to the point they would find themselves begging for death’s sweet relief.

He never dared try again, never for fear of hurting his brothers, never for fear of losing everything he held dear.

And when he’d found a way out — a young Empire of deceit and flaws aplenty — after so many years of pain, he’d seized it with both hands, hardly able to believe their luck. The fact that it was Omega, the daughter they had believed gone all these years, who delivered the warning had further convinced his already whirring mind.

Here had been their deliverance served on a silver platter. Here their hopes and dreams all but dropped into his lap.

And then Crosshair’s inhibitor chip had activated, and Omega was captured twice more than his anguished heart could handle. His entire world seems to be collapsing, and all he can do is stand and watch and weep.

His daughter lies asleep in his lap, shaken but safe. He runs his fingers through her hair, still as soft as he remembers it from when she was only a tubie. Those were gentler times, if not easier.

They are, however, in the past.

“You need to rest,” Echo implores quietly, honey eyes creasing in the corners with worry.

Rest? Is that what a man who has failed in every way deserves?

“It’s fine.” He’s glad his voice is just hoarse and not trembling. Small mercies, but he clings to them like a drowning man.

Echo snorts, a wholly unconvincing sound. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” He stands with a sigh, rubbing one cybernetic leg absentmindedly.

“Alright.” His tone brokers no negation. “Hand her over.”

Hunter’s eyes snap wide open.

“What?”

“You’re injured,” returns Echo sternly, waving a scomp at the bandage wrapped around his shoulder, hidden by Omega’s curled self. His gaze softens, as if acknowledging the fear behind the vitriol in Hunter’s question.

“It’s just me, Hunter. You know I’d never hurt her.”

Shame burns his skin, the heat flaring in his neck and up the sides of his face. Of course he knows this. Echo has never once proven to be a threat to any of them, least of all their ad’ika.

It’s just…he’s nearly lost her.

Twice.

He tamps down the irrational fear beating a mad tattoo against the walls of his heart, shifting forward and helping Echo hook hand and scomp underneath Omega’s arms. She goes up into Echo’s hold with only a sleepy scrunch of her nose and wrinkle between her brows, no protestations on her part. It’s not merely a testimony of her fatigue, but her innate trust in her vode as well.

Her face smooths out the instant her head falls against Echo’s shoulder, a content hum of approval escaping as she resettles. Her lips curl upwards a nudge, arms looping around her ba’vodu’s neck. She looks just like the tubie, the toddler, the child Hunter held all those years ago, small and happy.

And when he looks up at Echo, he knows his fears are unfounded, only love wrought in his ori’vod’s eyes as he gazes down at their Om’ika.

Hunter exhales, a peace washing over him he hasn’t felt in days. Echo glances over at him, the smile for Omega becoming the smile for Hunter. His hand returns to Hunter’s shoulder, warm and firm with the promise of reassurance.

“Get some rest, Hunter. We’ll be alright.”