#whenever I have to bend and reach etc

[hivemuthur]

Anon because I am a coward lmao, but a request nonetheless if you want/have the time! Been thinking about a classic!Viktor (because him in that uniform is just so scrumptious) x f!reader in an established relationship where they have a bet going that they can't last a week without sex. They take turns over those 7 days mercilessly teasing the other and trying to make each other lose the bet (errant touches here and there, lingering kisses/looks, etc., and one of those could maybe be a heated up-against-the-wall makeout). Up to you whether they make it to day 7 or not! 🤭 And we stan a soft!dom!Viktor of course

I saw some folks picking anon emoji so I'll pick ✨️Anon if that's okay! Thanks for your time whether this makes it or not, I sincerely love everything you write! ❤️

Guess what. They didn't make it :x

All is Fair in Love and War

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a lot of teasing + (unsafe) desk sex, if you squint diligently there is some dom!Viktor but he's so whipped he doesn't even have it in him, and there is some maybe a little bit OOC Viktor and love confessions too. Sap, remember?

word count: 5,8K (sorry it got out of hand)

author's note: Nothing, just Happy Freakday :v

—

It is funny, the human nature and the way you leap at the chance to bend and break it whenever an opportunity to prove a point arises. Often against your better judgement, hurting yourself in the process—yet the reward, the being right, you deem worth it. Whether it is or isn’t, you still don’t know. No scientific data on the matter; you'd have to somehow double yourself and join both the control and the treatment group.

It’s also infuriating how once something is forbidden or simply out of reach, it becomes instantly more desirable—damn near essential to your survival.

And it’s not that you lack self-control or are some savage animal. No. Quite the opposite—composed, focused when it matters, dedicated when it’s required, passionate when you allow yourself to be. And most of the time, that last one comes easily, naturally, around Viktor.

You don’t even remember how it started. He said something along the lines of, “Is that so?” in that tone—the one that has your head tilting and your hand bracing your hip, the one that forecasts trouble—and you responded with something like, “Why don’t we find out?” fully aware that the challenge at hand was going to inch dangerously close to impossible.

It is now day four of your ridiculous, point-proving, let’s-see-who-folds, I-can-outlast-you-with-my-finger-in-(insert an offensive body part) bet—for lack of a better name—and you really can’t remember why you picked up that stinking glove in the first place.

Day one was relatively easy. That was back when your tactic was simply to stay docile and survive. Got you all cocky, how simple it was, just to brace through a day filled with mundane tasks—a list long enough you didn’t even see Viktor for more than a minute.

Day two got harder. Viktor, the snarky bastard, had already started playing unfairly—cravat loosened at the neck, top button undone, revealing his Adam’s apple, one of your many weak spots. Another, also shamelessly flaunted: the mole on the side of his throat. One of your favourite places to press your mouth to. It glared at you all day every time Viktor craned his neck or leaned beside you to read something over your shoulder. It became painfully clear then: without proper artillery, this battle would see you utterly, thoroughly obliterated.

As if the sight itself weren’t enough, Viktor was clearly ready to have you rendered stupid and wanting right there in the lab on that second day. Pretending to be engrossed in your notes, he traced his long finger down your handwriting, occasionally tapping, humming—soft and low in his throat. The air from his nose fanned your cheek mercilessly, steady and warm. And then, the wretched scoundrel, brushed his hand against yours. The touch was barely there, a whisper of skin, designed with surgical precision to twist the knife further. To finish the kill, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead in a sign of loving approbation, murmuring, “Impressive work, lásko.”

“T-thank you,” you stammered, blinking blindly—trying desperately to blink away the feel of his hot lips on your skin, to scrub the sound of his voice from your brain. The praise had bled right into the spot you had prayed would remain numb. The urge to shake out your hand, to run it under cold water, to splash your face for good measure—you managed to resist. The burn on your cheeks, however, had no such mercy.

Viktor only smiled. The smirk he wore was unmistakable: a shit-eating, obscenely smug thing that sat crooked on his mouth, gleaming with unsaid victory. You could almost hear the remark hanging off the tip of his tongue—something close to, “That’s what I thought,” or, “As expected.” But he had the mercy, that day, to keep it to himself.

As he walked away, leaving you sighing in premature relief, he paused. Turned. Tipped his head, cane idly drawing slow circles across the stone floor.

“What would you say to raising the stakes?” he asked, like it was a casual thing, like it wasn’t a hand grenade tossed over his shoulder.

Impossible, you thought. Absolutely not. I’m barely hanging on, was the reasonable choice. Which, naturally, meant that instead of saying any of those sensible things, your stupid competitive mind stepped forward first.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, voice already on the brink of cracking.

“Well,” Viktor began, adjusting his grip on the cane, feigning neutrality with such theatrics you wanted to hit him, “if we want this test to deliver true results…” A beat.

“Perhaps we should both refrain from seeking relief by our own hands.” He gave a gracious little tilt of his head, the kind that almost passed for innocence. “Unless, of course, that would be too much for you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you implying that I have no self-control?”

“Not at all, my darling,” he replied smoothly. “I’m merely implying that I have more self-control than you do.”

A scoff—hot, sharp, and angered—left your mouth as you stood and closed the distance between you. Against reason, despite the suffering you’d already struggled to endure, you came so close that the air he breathed out, you could breathe in. You whispered, low and sinister, “Bring. It. On.”

“Very well,” Viktor muttered, leaning in to your ear. “Hands where I can see them, sweet thing.”

“Likewise,” you hummed into the hollow of his neck, and noticed—not without a sickening sense of triumph—that goosebumps rose where your breath had licked his skin. A faint pink bloomed upward from beneath his collar as well.

Sleeping that night? Nearly impossible, of course. Another thing added to the growing realm of forbidden comforts that had suddenly become this much more attractive to you. And you would be a liar if you said your hands didn’t itch. Sleep became another casualty in this battle, but somehow, you managed to stand your ground.

Naturally, you had to brace yourself with tactics of your own. Day three began with a strategy. You'd woken up taut and fraying, sheets tangled between your legs and thighs pressed too tight together. Your fingers stayed loyal to the pact—barely. But if you couldn’t touch yourself, then you’d just have to make him want to.

So you dressed with a mind to war: the cravat from your uniform was nowhere to be found—lost to the laundry or sabotage, you weren't sure, and frankly didn’t care. Instead of a replacement, you simply didn’t wear one. With the first few buttons of your shirt left artfully undone, the slight gap revealed the delicate valley of your cleavage whenever you leaned forward, bent over something, or stretched, as one does.

Then the skirt. It sat a little too low, so you wrapped the waistband twice and pinned it beneath your belt, hiking the hem high enough that your garters whispered suggestively with every step.

You walked into the lab like a provocation made flesh and Viktor noticed immediately—of course he did. He always notices everything. But this time, he said nothing. Just paused, mid-motion with a wrench in his hand, and blinked slowly, like he’d just been struck by something quiet and lethal. His gaze dropped once, flicked back up, and then he returned to his work with all the casualness of a man pretending not to drown.

That should’ve been your victory. Except that twenty minutes later, while you stood at the central workbench, bent over a set of schematics with a pencil tapping idly between your fingers, Viktor came up behind you. Not touching, never touching. But his voice, cool and rich, curled over your shoulder like silk.

“Did your cravat fall victim to a tragic accident?” he asked, as if genuinely curious.

You glanced back at him with a sugar-sweet smile. “Laundry’s fault. Terrible service. Think I’ll lodge a formal complaint.”

He hummed, low in his throat. “Yes, you should. It would be a shame if such... structural integrity failed in more critical areas of your attire.”

You turned, just slightly, letting him see the way your shirt shifted open with the movement. “If you’re concerned, I’m sure you could help reinforce it.”

“I could,” he said, his mouth twitching, his eyes lingering for one heartbeat too long. “But I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

And with that, he walked off. But his limp was tighter than usual, jaw clenched, and his cane struck the tile floor with a touch too much force to be casual. You counted that as a small, simmering win—and an idea, for later.

An idea which, before, you’d deemed a last resort, now begins to seem more and more essential to your survival, because Viktor is utterly fucking shameless.

It is day four, and you are inching toward your wits' end, disbelieving how a mere four days of deprivation have indeed left you nearly drooling over his body—slouched on the couch in what appears to be an innocent nap. But the sighs and groans that leave his mouth are a little too loud, a bit too breathy, and his legs are too far apart, the slope of his groin staring at you with obscene entitlement from where you are curled up on the couch next to him. Not touching, of course.

His chest rises and falls in slow, rhythmic pulls, the fabric of his shirt straining just faintly each time he inhales. You watch the subtle shift of muscle beneath it, the barely-there flutter of his lashes against his cheek, and the way his throat bobs every so often, like his body is caught somewhere between rest and need. His lips, slightly parted, glisten with the faint sheen of sleep, and it would be so easy—criminally easy—to lean in and steal the air right from his mouth.

You shouldn't be looking, you know that. But your eyes drag down the ridges of his ribs, the soft dip of his waist, the hand resting slack against his thigh—long fingers splayed in a mockery of carelessness. You can’t even pretend to read anymore. The words on the page blur while he lays there like a temptation wrought by some divine punishment, entirely unbothered, until—

He shifts. Just a little. One eye cracks open, and the barest hint of a smile twitches on his lips. Then, hoarse and low, without even bothering to fully open his eyes, he rasps, “Seeing anything you like?”

You have enough common sense not to startle. The instinctive reaction would be to deny, deny, deny. But then, a thought strikes you—why would you? The bet entails simply not fucking, not pretending as if you don’t want to. In a swift pivot, your new tactic slides into place like a dagger in silk.

“Very much so,” you say, voice smooth, a soft smile playing across your lips while your eyes narrow. You don’t even try to hide the way you’re ogling him, letting your gaze drag with intention—chest, throat, lips, hips—then slowly back up again to meet his.

“Oh?” he murmurs, finally opening both eyes. One brow lifts lazily. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Oh, Viktor,” you sigh with feigned exasperation, tilting your head. Your tone is syrupy and sharp all at once. “Are you trying to orchestrate my downfall or yours?”

“Not at all,” he hums, pleased. “I’m simply curious about what’s happening in that pretty head of yours.”

“Very well,” you whisper, fingers ghosting over his wrist as your smile deepens. You cradle it like something precious, your thumb brushing across the knuckles—each one a peak, scarred and calloused with work, each line like a story. He watches you with curious eyes, a tension winding through his jaw, but he lets you guide him. Your lips part. You press them to the tips of his fingers in something that almost resembles devotion—until your tongue peeks out and you drag it, slow and warm, along the pad of his index.

“I’ve been thinking about this hand,” you whisper, eyes locked on his as you press a kiss into his fingertip, “in here.” You take the finger fully into your mouth then, slow and obscene, hollowing your cheeks just slightly.

A hiss leaves him, barely restrained, the muscle in his cheek twitching. He leans forward on instinct, like you’ve hooked a string behind his ribs and pulled. His gaze drops, fixated, almost pained with it.

“And then possibly…” you release his finger with a soft pop, teasing, “somewhere else.”

Viktor makes a sound low in his throat, something between a warning and a plea. He shifts closer, drawn in despite himself, and his eyes flick to your mouth again—wet and gleaming. “This,” he mutters, voice hoarse and fraying where he doesn’t intend it to, “is not fair play.”

You smile, teeth flashing, all wicked delight. “All’s fair in love and war,” you hum. “And as this is both, I’d say it’s more than fitting. Besides—” you lean in, brushing your nose along his jaw, “you know exactly what you’d have to do to end this… torture. All these layers in the way…”

His breath stutters. And then a smile curls on his lips—not soft, not sweet, but predatory. The kind of smile that promises you’ve stepped too close to the fire, and you’re about to feel the burn.

“Oh?” he says, gaze raking over you, slow and thorough, like he’s peeling you open with just a glance. “And how many layers do you think exactly part us?”

You still. Stare. He cannot possibly be serious. But then, with the ease of someone who knows precisely what they’re doing, Viktor shifts back and stretches—arms above his head, spine arching, muscles pulling taut under the fabric. The hem of his shirt untucks from his trousers in the process, rising just high enough to tease at the flat plane of his stomach.

Your mouth parts, uselessly, because the trousers dip. Just a fraction. But a fraction is enough. Low, low enough that where you expect to see the band of his underwear, there is—nothing. Just skin. A sliver of the sharp cut of his pelvis, and below that, the dangerous promise of more. Had the trousers slid even a breath lower—or not been cinched by his belt—you’d have been treated to the base of his cock.

Your heart stumbles over itself. Breath caught halfway between outrage and awe, you stare. Incredulous.

“Viktor,” you scold, voice choked with disbelief. “You slut.”

He chuckles darkly at that, low and pleased, the sound laced with unrepentant menace. “What was that?” he murmurs. “All is fair, something along those lines?”

His hand lifts, fingers trailing up to your cheek with mock-gentle reverence. “Seems you haven’t measured your opponent properly,” he says, almost fond. “A mistake. Might cost you.”

Your lips twitch upward, unwillingly impressed. “We’ll see about that,” you whisper, eyes narrowing with intent.

Because now—now you know. That little move? That wasn’t confidence. That was desperation. Calculated, yes, but desperate all the same. Viktor, flashing skin like a weapon, throwing everything short of actual cock at the problem—it’s telling. And oh, you were saving your last resort. But now you know—he’s already playing his.

And it’s only day four.

It’s unbearable to keep your part of the deal that night. To say that your hands crawl with ants is an understatement, and to say that you’ve slept is an overstatement, since all you’ve done is toss and turn. And in the morning, there is no laundry mishap, no sabotage to blame for what you’re about to do.

With your skirt’s waistband rolled up and your ass outright bare underneath, you walk through the corridors, the air licking at your thighs. You pray, sincerely and repeatedly, that you won’t run into Heimerdinger at any juncture—and as ludicrous as that prayer might seem, you suddenly understand why all the skirts of the Academy uniforms are the length you once deemed too prudish to ever stir Viktor into action.

The source of your frustration is already in his usual spot, scribbling the day’s tasks onto the blackboard. You can read the smile from the back of his head the moment you step in through the door, but instead of focusing on that, your gaze drops lower—to his thighs—trying to assess whether he’s fallen twice, whether yesterday’s stunt has repeated itself today.

Sadly, you can’t tell. So with gathered-up determination, you bid him hello and muster all your innocence as you sit at your workbench, thighs pressed close together, the chair biting cold into your skin.

It’s maddeningly civil throughout the first few hours—so much so that your head snaps up each time an audible sigh leaves his mouth, only to realise it’s not about you at all. Just something work-related, some frustration that has him hunched over and his brows all knitted.

After a while it becomes clear that Viktor is struggling. It begins subtly—grunts of frustration under his breath, the occasional mutter in a tone too low to catch, followed by the sharp squeak of chalk against slate. Again and again, he scribbles something onto the board, only to wipe it away with increasing irritation. The lines start to look like arguments more than equations. Whatever he’s writing, he hates it.

Curiosity gets the better of you. You rise and make your way over, and the moment you’re close—close enough to see the tension in his shoulders and the crease between his brows—it thickens in the space between you, the air charged and humming. He doesn't look at you, not at first.

"What’s the matter?" you ask gently, keeping your voice light.

He scoffs under his breath and waves you off. “Nothing.”

But his eyes betray him. They flick, just briefly, downward. Toward your thighs. Then snap away again, his jaw tightening. Oh, poor thing.

You almost feel sorry for him. Almost. But then you remember yesterday—the stretch, the lazy way his shirt had untucked. Desperation wrapped in smugness. No. This is fair game.

“Want to bounce ideas?” you offer, brushing your fingers lightly along his forearm. He stiffens. Your hand drifts higher, skimming over his shirt, the lean plane of his stomach beneath. Purely helpful. Entirely professional.

He exhales, smiling with a certain defeated amusement. “Sure.”

“Good,” you chirp, turning your head just enough for your breath to graze his neck. “Because you seem distracted.”

His eyes cut to you, dark and narrowed. “If you really want to help,” he says, slow and dry, “start writing from the top.”

You follow his gaze upward, and ah—if you’re not the universe’s favourite today, you don’t know what. You grab the usual board stool, the seat worn out and scraped from shoe soles constantly grinding into it anytime either of you wants to make full use of the black surface. You climb onto it gracefully and, as if it’s nothing, await instructions.

He doesn’t say a word, just steps aside, still holding the chalk in his fingers. His expression is unreadable, but his pulse is visible at his throat.

You hold out your hand. “Chalk.”

He gives it to you wordlessly, his gaze fixed. You begin to write.

“Ready,” you say sweetly.

He opens his mouth, begins to dictate something—but the moment his eyes trace down your back, catch the bare expanse of skin beneath the hem of your skirt, his voice falters.

“Start with—” he begins, and stops. Silence.

You glance over your shoulder. “What?”

He stares at you, mouth slightly parted. His throat works around a swallow. You smile, victorious, as the realisation dawns in his eyes. And Viktor doesn’t speak—at least not right away.

Just stands there, stunned. Caught mid-breath, as though something vital has short-circuited behind his eyes. And then you see it—the unmistakable flicker of calculation. You can almost hear the gears turning in his head, trying to solve this, trying to survive it. But he won’t.

Instead, he takes a slow step forward. Then another. The soft tap of his cane echoes once, then again, before he stops just beside you.

Something shifts, and you feel the motion before you see it—cool wood slipping beneath the hem of your skirt. The cane lifts gently, teasingly, fabric peeling upward, making your breath still.

Viktor exhales like a man broken. “You are so wicked,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, brazen. “This is cruel,” comes next, as pained as his expression.

You smile over your shoulder, saccharine-sweet. “My love. You dug your own grave yesterday.”

A low sound escapes him—somewhere between a laugh and a curse—and then he’s moving with purpose. He hooks the cane over the wing of the board to keep it out of the way, and his hands find your legs. His palms are warm, strong, sliding slowly upward. A sweep over your calves, the backs of your thighs, fingers tightening with every inch until he’s cupping you fully, squeezing your ass like it’s his only hope.

His face presses in, breath hot against where your thighs meet, his nose brushing skin. He breathes in deep, his exhale shuddering out against you.

“I surrender,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, as if anything louder would undo him completely. “Please get down from that chair so I can fuck you or I’ll go mad.”

You exhale a startled laugh—part shock, part triumph, part sheer disbelief that you've actually won—and barely stop yourself from huffing out finally as you hop off the stool.

Your landing is clumsy, the soles of your shoes slipping on the floor, but you barely find your footing before Viktor is on you.

His hands are already on your face, in your hair, his mouth glueing into yours, starving and rough. The kiss is all teeth and heat, his breath ragged, his hips pressing you back into the board as if he means to pin you there permanently.

"You’re a menace," he mutters between kisses, voice low, cracked. "Bože můj, you’ll make me lose my mind one day—"

You gasp against him, laughter catching on your tongue, but he swallows it down. Then he takes your wrist, firm and careful, and brings your hand to the front of his trousers, where he is hot and hard and straining.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he breathes, forehead resting against yours, words trembling with restraint, rage, want—all of it. "Four days," he grits, biting your bottom lip gently before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

"Four days of you teasing me, torturing me—strutting around with those fucking lips and thighs and now this? No underwear?" He kisses you through it—messy, hungry, relentless. His lips smother yours again and again, every breath you try to take stolen from your mouth. His hands don’t know where to settle, roaming from your hips to your waist to your face like he’s desperate to feel everything at once, make up for the time lost.

You stumble backwards, and he follows, half draped over you as he walks you toward the nearest workbench, his hips grinding against yours with every step.

Breathless, you manage to smile again—still daring, still cocky, even now. "You reap what you sow."

“Cruel creature,” he growls into your mouth, words lost in the kiss. “You’ve won. Are you happy now?”

“So happy,” you gasp, catching his lower lip between your teeth. “It was unbearable. And you’re no better,” you add, voice low and accusing, “I hope you got burns from yesterday’s stunt.”

“I did,” he rasps, and his voice is a beautiful wreck of need. “And you’re going to lick me back to health.” Then, a pause. He pulls back just far enough to look at you properly, eyes half-lidded and wild, a grin curling his lips.

“But first,” he says, voice dark and deep, “get on that desk.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You haul yourself onto the workbench with a kind of grace that borders on indecent, your skirt bunching at your hips, legs parting. Viktor slots himself between them without hesitation, hands gripping your thighs like he’ll die if he doesn’t touch you, mouth dragging over your jaw, your throat, your collarbone, buttons of your shirt snapping open.

“Fuck,” he mutters with effort, as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. His hands slide beneath you, guiding your hips to grind into him, keeping you right where he wants you. One arm braces against the bench beside your hips; the other curls around your back, holding you steady as his lips find yours again.

Again, a lot of teeth, even more tongue, but you don’t care—you’ve missed those teeth and that tongue like an addict. You’ve missed the feeling of his hair between your fingers, his smell, the subtle scent of him that only reveals itself when you're this close. His hands, too, shaped as if they were made to cradle your body.

And then he’s fumbling with his belt, his breath fanning your cheek. And then—oh—you don’t even know when it happens, don’t even see if he’s bare under those pants, too busy staring at his lips, but he’s free and hard and leaking against you, resting at your entrance, his mouth breathing heavily. You twitch to meet him, but he holds you still, hips fixed in place like a statue, only his chest rising and falling.

His forehead presses to yours, jaw slack, eyes fluttering shut as he begins to sink in—deeper and deeper—stretching you out inch by inch. His breath trembles out of him in ragged exhales, mouth open in a silent moan until it finally breaks into sound—helpless and guttural.

“Oh, miláčku,” he breathes. “You feel—fuck—I’ve missed you.”

You’re clinging to him, nails digging into the fabric at his back, your head falling against his shoulder. It’s almost too much—he fills you completely, and still, he’s not all the way in.

And Viktor—Viktor looks undone already. His brow pinches at first, a flicker of pain or restraint, but it vanishes in the next breath. His face goes slack, lax. A visible, physical relief settles in his body the moment he bottoms out, hips flush to yours. He moans, long and loud, like this is the only thing that’s made him feel alive in days.

Your breath is nearly non-existent, lungs almost giving out, air caught somewhere in between them. It’s not just the stretch, though that alone is close to being too much, the sharp pull giving way to a fullness that borders on unbearable. It’s the heat of him, the weight, the press of his body. The air seems thicker now, like the room is holding its breath with you.

Your hands tremble as you clutch at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself, but there’s nothing grounding about this. Your nerves are alight, every inch of you humming with sensation—burning where he fills you, tingling where his chest brushes yours, where his breath ghosts across your skin.

You feel split wide open, every part of you drawn taut around him, and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Gods,” you whisper, almost to yourself. “I almost forgot how much…”

Viktor lifts his head, his nose nudging yours, the smile he gives you helpless, crooked, all teeth and tenderness. “How much what?” he rasps.

You try to answer but it comes out as a gasp instead, the words dissolving as your body clenches around him. You feel the tremor run through him—see it, too, in the flicker of his lashes and the flex of his jaw.

He’s holding on, yet barely. You feel it in his grip, the way his fingers press into your skin, in the quiver of restraint in his thighs. And somehow, that makes it worse. Hotter. More intimate.

“You feel like—” you choke out, panting. “You feel like you’re everywhere.”

A low sound tears from his throat, somewhere between a groan and a plea. “That’s what I want,” he murmurs. “I want to be everywhere. I want to leave no room for anything else.” His hips roll—just once, shallow—and your mouth falls open, no sound coming out.

“Tell me,” he whispers, lips brushing your cheek, your temple, the shell of your ear. “Say you missed this. Say you missed me.”

You nod before you can form a word, tears prickling at your lashes from the intensity. “I missed you,” you gasp. “I missed everything. Please, let’s not do that again.”

His mouth finds yours again, fully desperate now, and finally—finally—he begins to move. And it’s deep, grinding in slow, restrained thrusts that have your breath stuttering with each pass. It’s all pressure and heat, dragging friction and stretch, every slide of his hips drawing out a gasp you can’t swallow, it just stumbles out.

His lips are on your neck, your jaw, your shoulder as his drool dampens your shirt, mouth panting hot between murmurs—fragments of words, your name, curses in Czech that sound like a praise.

“God,” he rasps, sweat slicking his forehead as he pulls out and sinks back in, slow, careful, so careful. “You’re so—tight, fuck—I can’t, I won’t—”

He cuts himself off with a grunt, hips shuddering against yours. The sound of him sliding inside you, wet and obscene, fills the small space between you. Each thrust makes it louder, harder to keep up.

“You’re not making this easy,” he growls against your ear, pressing in so deep your spine arches. “If you want me to last—touch yourself.”

You let out a shaky breath, not trusting your voice. But your hand slips between you, fingers working tight, trembling circles against your clit. And Viktor—Viktor moans when he sees it. His head drops to your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin through the fabric, sweat dripping from his brow, sinking into your clothes, as he starts to move again, even deeper this time, harder.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses, watching you, wild-eyed. “Just like that—look at you.”

You shift, needing more, angling your hips, one foot propped up on the table’s edge for leverage, other leg hugging his side. It opens you wider, gives him more room, and he uses it—hips snapping forward, the slap of skin on skin filling the lab, occasionally knocking your hand off course.

The workbench creaks beneath you. His arm trembles where it braces beside your hip. His other hand is cupping your thigh, holding it high and tight, your body drawn up taut around his like a bowstring straining at the edge of release.

And still he doesn’t stop yapping—your name, praises, filth, words that blur together into a stream of breath and groans. “So wet for me,” he pants, thrusting deep enough to have you momentarily mute. You melt around him, every time he pulls out it’s like you’re begging him not to.

His eyes meet yours, glassy and undone, and you see it—that tight coil in his gut winding ever higher. His hips stammer, breath breaks, and he’s so, so close. And you are right there with him.

Shaking—hips bucking into your hand, legs trembling where the muscles can’t hold up any longer, every part of you stretched thin and burning. He’s not faring any better. His pace has lost its rhythm, faltering now, every thrust hitting deep but messy, like he’s chasing the edge and barely hanging in there.

“I’m—” you start, breath interrupting. “I’m close—almost—”

A sound breaks from him, torn from his chest. “Thank God,” he groans. “I’m so fucking close—baby, come for me.” A breath, and a pleading hand comes to cradle your neck. “Please,” he swallows, “be a good girl—”

And it’s that. That voice, those words, the begging, cracked raw and full of want—that shatters you into pieces. Your body clenches hard around him, every muscle tightening in a violent rush of release when you cum, mouth loud, nails biting into his back, forehead pressed to his as the string stretches and snaps, ripping you apart in a way only he can undo you.

And Viktor follows immediately—unable to hold back any longer. A hoarse sound like gravel, tears from his throat, and he thrusts once more, buried to the hilt as he spills inside you in hot, thick pulses of cum. His whole body shakes with it, his nose bumping into yours, mouth catching on your moan as he answers with one of his own.

Then, neither of you moves. You’re pressed together, heaving for air, clinging to each other like the world narrowed to this—slick skin, damp clothes, soft gasps, and the slow, sticky pulse of overstimulation setting in.

“Gods,” he mutters, voice barely there against your cheek. “You’re going to kill me.”

You laugh, breathless, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “Like-fucking-wise.”

A beat. Then, with a reluctant groan, Viktor draws back—slowly, carefully—pulling out of you with a hiss. The wet sound makes your stomach flip, and his eyes flutter at the loss of contact, still caught in that delicate haze of aftershock.

“You alright?” you ask, light and shaky. Your hand lifts to brush aside the hair clinging to his temple.

Viktor nods and swallows, clearly spent—tired but blissful. He leans in again, still softening, cock resting against your thigh as he presses back between your legs to kiss you. It’s a grateful kiss, deep and languid, like he doesn’t quite know what he’s thankful for—your body, your presence, or that the torment is finally over.

“You are so horrible,” he whispers fondly against your mouth. Then, quieter, more fragile, “I love you so fucking much.”

“Again, likewise,” you murmur, letting your legs slump off the table, heels swinging lazily against the backs of his calves. “You’re no warmonger though,” you hum, fingertips tracing the slope of his cheek, the swell of his bottom lip.

“No,” Viktor agrees with a tired smirk. “Death by my own sword. How ignominious.”

You grin. “I’m impressed with your tactics, though. You almost had me yesterday.”

“Shut up,” he groans, and cackles—rich and golden and still a little breathless. The sound is honey in your ears.  “You shouldn’t kick a dying man.”

“Not kicking,” you say, mock-innocent. “Just poking. And I died a little too, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Viktor says, smirking into the curve of your throat. “I’m tempted to make you die like that again, but I fear for my own sanity.”

“Me too.” You kiss his temple, your heart still thudding somewhere under your ribs. “I am completely and utterly mad about you.”

“Likewise,” Viktor breathes against your lips, smiling without shame, pleased beyond dignity. And you are so, so glad the war is finally over.

[devil-in-hiding]

(Im not sure if tumblr ate my ask the first time so I figured I’d resend - pls just ignore this if the other one did send 😖) hello!! I really love your writing and have re-read the on the run series maybe 100 times 😅 I normally never submit stuff since I’m not really a writer but I really loved your series and wanted to contribute! 😊

So I loved the idea of the boys adjusting to the security of the farm and getting all beefy and stuff as they settle in, but I was also thinking about farmer reader also starting to relax a little now that she’s got these guys to keep her company, protect, help, etc…. So she also starts putting on a lil bit and it drives the guys nuts 🫠

Like she goes to put on her regular sun dresses and price can’t help but notice how tight it fits her and shows off her figure. Gaz comes across her old clothes (and bras and stuff 👀) being put out to donate as she looks for bigger sizes. Ghost is standing behind her when she bends down to pick up something and can see the fabric stretch across her ass. Finally, soap walks in as she has to jump to put her now slightly too tight jeans on 👀👀👀

Anyway that’s all I had to contribute!! Love ur work (and you!! 😗) 😊💞💗

anon i adore this!! i am sorry i remember seeing this but i believe it got lost in the flood 😭😭

but YES! you have to cook for 5 now, and they’re big boys!! so big portions, and they scold you if you try to give yourself tiny portions, Price also refuses to let you make their plates (it’s a war because you like doing this for them, it’s.. domestic…)

Please if Price couldn’t keep his hands to himself before he is 10x worse seeing how some of your favorite little dresses hardly reach your knees anymore

all the boys watching you load up the truck with donation bags for the little thrift store in town, enjoying the way you hop to shove the last bag in the cab “gee guys, thanks for the help.”

however the sack with all your too small panties? oh those were free game that Gaz snatched right out of the burn pile and the four of them laid them out, snatching up their favorites

Ghost is the worst about putting things in high places so he can watch the way your tits bounce whilst trying to grab it, whining at him to “please just grab it for me! Ghost!”

Soap is the groper, can not control himself whenever you decide to slip onto the couch with him, pulling you to his chest as he adjust y’all’s positions until you were leaning back into him, his hands squeezing your belly appreciatively

ugh i love this and i do not have the brain cells to tell you how MUCH but they love watching their sweet little farmer plump up, tension easing from your shoulders ass the months start to blur together, no longer having to carry the whole farm by yourself

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mercy No More 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, possible violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your misplaced kindness brings a dangerous man to your door.

Characters: Thomas Shelby

Note: a less popular character so I'll just post whenever.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"There's a man in the backyard."

The statement is matter-of-fact, not a hint of distress in your sister's tone as she informs you of the trespass. You wipe your forehead as you turn away from the porridge on the stove. You frown.

"A man... how? Who?" You wonder.

She shrugs, "he couldn't say."

You near her with a glower, "Anna, could you say less?"

"He's face down. He could be dead," she says. "Like old Chester."

"Is he old like Chester?" You go to the backdoor, slipping in a glob of mud. "Anna, your shoes."

"I was distracted. By the dead man."

You tilt your head wryly, "yes, you're brain does seem to be working madly to unravel the riddle."

You slip into your shoes, leaving the laces loose. You turn and go out into the yard. Sure enough, you see the man on the ground. He does look to be lifeless, though you can't be sure.

You glance back at Anna. She gives a coy grin, "I went and got water, I'm not dealing with him."

You sigh. Your father's already at the factory. It's only the two of you and it took enough arguing to get her to bring in a bucket of rain water.

The muck sucks on your soles. The man's face is smeared with mud and his hate rests next to his head. His limbs are askew in all directions. You hear him breathing as he blows bubbles into the slop.

"He's alive," you peek over your shoulder. You're talking to the door. Anna's back hiding behind the brick.

You cautiously bend and jab the man's shoulder, "sir, sir," you poke with each word, "hullo, you're sleeping in the dirt. Sir!"

You shake him. He doesn't stir. You reach across and grab his hat. A sharp pain sears in your thumb. You let the hat drop and look at the sliced pad of your finger. Rats.

Then the damp cold seeps through your stockings. The realisation trickles down your spine. Your eyes search out the sharp edge sewn into the hat. He's one of them.

You turn and march back to the door. You keep your injured hand aloft and let yourself in with other. You stomp into the kitchen and snatch up a cloth. You press it around your throbbing thumb.

"Sister, your shoes," Anna chides drolly.

You huff. She doesn't bother to ask if you're well. You hiss and grit your teeth.

"Get father's rye," you demand.

"Bit early, innit?" She snickers.

"Anna," you sneer.

She drags herself away from the table and takes out a dark bottle. She pulls free the cork and you grab it. You pour it over your thumb, shaking over the sink. You quickly cover the gash again.

"What's happened? He have a knife?" She asks.

"Anna," you face her, your heart top turns. "That man... has blades in his hat."

"Blades in his hat. Well, that's rather foolish." You stare at her and she blinks wide. "A blinder? Out here?"

You nod.

"What do we do?"

"Now it's we?" You challenge.

"It's not good, is it?"

You shrug.

"We could leave him there. Let him wake up."

"Yes, we could. But s'pose he wakes up and thinks we did leave him there. To drown in the mud," you tut. "But the alternative..."

"Wake him up?"

"He's not doing that," you clutch your hand.

"We can't carry him."

"We're going to have to," you say.

"And when he does come to, what then? He could hurt us."

"He might but I know where father keeps the pistol," you say.

"Do you know how to shoot it?"

"No."

"And wouldn't that be worse? To kill one of 'em?"

"Better than being killed," you look around. "Anna, I don't know any better than you."

"How..." she glances at the wall.

"You get one side, I'll get the other?" You suggest.

"How'd he even get there?"

"Now you're asking questions."

"Well, I thought he was a drunk or some'in."

"Oh, no doubt he is," you scoff. You wrap the cloth around your finger, securing it as best you can. You teethe your lip and dip your chin. "Right then."

You take the lead. Anna drags her feet. You go out into the yard. You near the man. He snores now.

You lift up his hat carefully and tuck it into your apron. You step around him as Anna reluctantly hovers some distance away.

"You get that arm." You point.

She whimpers but comes closer. You take his right arm and she flinches away as she reaches for his other. You grunt and grind your teeth as you try to lift him. Your sister whines, "he's too big."

"Anna, put some guff into it," you demand. "Christ be risen."

You manage to get him upright. Sort of. He hangs between you and your sister. You stagger to face him toward the house.

"I'm too weak."

"Stop, just move," you hike the man up as hold his hand over your shoulder, his arm draped around your neck. "Onward."

Your steps are teetering and uneven, lurching as the man threatens to bowl you both over. You haul him crookedly up the stairs, breathless, sweating, aching. His toes catch on the threshold and you all crash to the floor.

Your elbow pangs and your knee burns. You roll over and push the man's arm off you. Anna snivels as she crawls away from him.

"Now what?" She pulls a splinter from her hand.

"Well, he's inside," you get up, panting, and bend his legs enough to close the door. "Put a blanket over him."

"He's just gonna... lay there?"

"Better than the mud." You utter and step back, exhausted.

"What about when Da gets home?"

You give her a look, "let's pray he wakes up first."

🚬

You stir your porridge as the back of the man's head is visible just through the doorway. Anna won't sit still as she cradles her bowl and paces. Your thumb is pulsing with each bend.

The man's hat sits on the table. You did your best to wipe the mud off. You wiggle your foot, as restless as your sister but reluctant to show it.

You rinse your bowl and she gives you hers half-finished. You tisk. "Wasteful."

"Pardon me, my insides are splitting like twigs," she hisses.

You dump her bowl in the bin and wash away the oats. Anna tends to avoid things. She's always been that way. You can hardly blame her, there isn't very much worth facing in this world. Still, some things just must be done.

"Go on then, go to your room," you bid her. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"Are you certain?" She asks.

"Not truly but no use you tittering around," you shoo her with your fingers.

She makes no fuss in doing just that. Your dread mounts as you're left alone. She wouldn't be much help as it were, but are you any more formidable? Especially with a man like that?

You carry on, tidying, going through your usual toil, anything to busy yourself until your father returns. You sit and wring out the clothes by hand over a bucket and toss them in the basket to go on the line. You focus on the work, made more difficult by your tender thumb. Your joints ache from the effort, your forearms and the cuffs of your sleeves soaked through.

"Eh, Polly," the gritty voice has you sat upright. "Bring me a cuppa."

You stare at the man. He's not moving still. Just the rise and fall of his breath. He groans.

"Polly, ain't I your favourite?" He rasps and laughs, wincing at the effort.

He sucks in a deep breath and drags a hand over the floor. He pushes himself up with one arm and his head bobbles. He looks around, his nose like a beak. He gets one foot flat, still hunched, then the other. He stands and staggers, catching himself on the wall. He grunts and turns his head. He sees you before the bucket of soapy water and linen.

"You're not Pol," he limps in. "You got any tea?"

You stare at him and drop the shirt in the tub. He's entirely too calm waking up in a strange house. You stand stiffly.

"Whisky?" He hobbles past you and opens the cupboard.

"Sir," you back up. "This isn't-- we don't got much." You cross your arms and keep the chair between you. "You were out in the mud. We only brought you in to dry off."

"We?" He takes out a tin of flour.

"Hm, um, yes, the neighbour helped me," you lie.

"Aye, they did? Ya have a good laugh then? Over my drunk arse?" He accuses as he shuts the cabinet.

"No, sir. It was only--"

He moves towards you and you stumble out of his path. He swipes up his hat and pulls it on.

"Well, give ya some advice," he points at you. "You and that nosy neighbour, keep your mouths shut, eh? Don't be cheeping around with the hens."

"Sir, no, we wouldn't--"

"Know ya wouldn't." He looks around with a sneer, "it's a shithole but I'm sure you don' wan' it it in ashes."

He trips on the leg of the chair. You react without thinking. You grab his arm and the other side of the chair. He sways but stays on his feet.

You swallow as he looks at you. You shudder. "You wanted tea?"

His lips thin. There's a glimmer of shame in his irises. He maneuvers to sit on the wooden seat. He sighs and rubs his hips.

"Ole bullet casing's acting up again," he snarls. "German rubbish."

You go to the stove and put the kettle on the burner. You light it and step away. He bends forward to hold his head.

"Like I said, not much round, but I've got some bones. I could make ya broth," you offer.

He shakes and grumbles. It's not a clear answer. You grab the pork bones and put them in a pot. Your only shield is to do those things you know how to.

You brew the tea and bring it to him. He sits up and watches you set it down. He scrapes the chair closer to the table. He squints at your hand.

"Cut yerself?" He wonders.

"It'll heal up," you assure him and hide your hand behind you. He scratches the side of his head below his hat.

"Razor's cut deep," he remarks.

"They do," you affirm.

"Sorry then," he reaches for the cup. "I'll just get meself straight and be off."

"Very well, sir," you agree and grab the basket of clothes. "I'll be hanging these."

He takes a cautious sip and drones again. He wipes the moisture from his blond mustache with the side of his finger.

You leave him and go out into the yard. You unfurl the garments and pin them in place with the pegs. The gloomy sky won't dry them quickly. You go down the line as you hear Mary hollering at her husband. You've never heard her speak without yelling.

You finish and leave the basket at the door. The man has his head on the table. You go to check the broth. It bubbles but smells good enough. He groans.

You serve him a bowl with a butt of bread. He sits up with a tremour. He doesn't say a word as he draws himself in to the table and dips the rye in the broth. He eats without a care to the dribble down his chin.

He gives a contented hum when he's done. He looks up and smiles. You follow his gaze past you. You turn to see Anna before she disappears behind the doorframe.

"Well, hello, birdie," he growls.

"All done, sir," you take the empty bowl.

He refocuses on you, "didn't mention another of ya."

"She's shy," you insist as you take the dish to the sink.

"Mmm, well," he clucks. "Shy ones are sweet."

"Sir," you approach him again.

"Eh, I know what I said," he stands with an effort that makes him croak. "Yer a good woman. Won't be no bother 'round here. I'll make sure of it."

You nod as he heads for the back door. You follow him and stand in the frame as he stiffly struts to the gate. You frown. There never was any bother before him.

[toysrguts]

Dae-ho (player 388) NSFW Alphabet

first time posting something like this kinda nervy but i had to write for my pookie dae ho and my bro said it was good enough to post so here DAE HO TRUTHERS EAT UP if this does well there will be more to come trust

18+ content below the cut!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he's such a gentleman when it comes to aftercare. he’ll immediately help you clean up before you have the chance to move an inch, he’ll give you one of his shirts to wear (if you're not already wearing one) and he'll literally carry you to the bathroom to shower together. but if you're both too tired he'll just pull you close to him and play with your hair until you fall asleep in his arms

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

i think his own favorite body part would be his chest, hes got some nice pecs and he knows it. also cause he has a lot of upper body strength 🤤🤤 on you though its hard to choose one but he always finds himself grabbing onto your thighs and love handles so i think its safe to say those are his favorites

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

hes not a fan of making a mess, which isnt much of an issue anyway because spoiler alert he has a breeding kink!! he loves filling you up, especially when you both cum at the same time because it makes him feel connected to you. but if not inside he'll sometimes shoot a load on your face or chest cause it looks pretty when its all over you

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he thoroughly enjoys being dominated. usually hes the one in control but he will bend over and take it like a good boy whenever the opportunity arises. being a big strong man is hard work, sometimes he needs to be taken care of too

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he doesnt have a crazy body count or anything but he knows what hes doing for sure. especially when it comes to you, he knows your body and how to turn you on instantly and make you cum fast it fills him with so much pride

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he loves the intimacy of missionary. any position where he can look into your eyes and be pressed skin to skin with you are his favorite. cowgirl is a close contender because he can look up at you while motorboating you and gripping your thighs. he also likes the one where he lifts you up and fucks you against the wall cuz he gets to remind you how strong he is. trying out new positions is fun with him too, he'll have your legs bending in ways you never thought possible

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he doesn't really like being too serious in the bedroom, hes almost too giggly sometimes. if he catches himself being all concentrated he'll slow down a little and smile at u n shiiiii but its also so hot when he's just really focused on making you feel good

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

has like no hair down there he shaves as soon as he feels stubble, he just prefers to be clean shaven

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

intimacy may as well be his middle name. he values the connection between you too so much and it's adorable. he's constantly checking in to make sure youre enjoying yourself while also praising you and planting soft kisses all over your body. sometimes you can tell he loses focus just from looking at you. he’ll tuck your hair behind your ear or gently caress your face, he treats you like royalty seriously

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he doesnt jerk off that much but when he does he's usually thinking of you and definitely whimpers your name when he finishes. he's not much of a porn watcher, all he needs is a pic of you and 5 minutes

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he's big on hair pulling for sure. like how can you see that mane and not immediately reach for it when hes 7 inches deep inside you. and it goes both ways you’ll catch him yanking on a fistful of your hair without even realizing it. oh yeah hes also into breeding!!!! blowing his load inside is his favorite activity!!!!!

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

basic bitch loves the bedroom. he just likes anywhere that feels the most intimate, sometimes thats your bed or sometimes it's in the shower and he can't keep his hands off you and suddenly you're bent over with your hands pressed against the foggy glass

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

dae ho might not have the highest sex drive but to him, you are his motivation. it drives him insane when you make the first move. he gets weak in the knees when you put your hands on him or whisper something scandalous in his ear when he least expects it, he’ll start matching your energy real quick

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he’s open to almost anything but hes not really into bdsm or torture and shit like that. he doesnt mind receiving pain but inflicting it on you especially to that extent is a big no-no

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he could bury his face in between your thighs for hours at a time call this man the headmaster the way he eats pussy like its his last meal, and hearing the sounds you make is only more motivating for him. also BIG on face sitting he cant get enough of it. if you're hesitant about it he'll literally hold your hips down to feel all of your weight on top of him. he prefers giving but he'll still go crazy over the feeling of your mouth wrapped around his dick, especially if you make eye contact while taking it omg he’ll finish in 3 seconds

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he always caters to you. he starts off slow and sensual, but as you get worked up and start moaning louder he’ll pick up the pace until tears start to form and your legs are shaking. training in the marines paid off thats for sure!!!

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he’s not really into quickies because he enjoys a more intimate experience and quickies leave him feeling needy. they're unnecessary to have often but when you do its usually just him pleasing you and hes perfectly fine with that; if you're ready to go then so is he

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he will try almost anything as long as it's with you, but not without having a safeword in place of course. he has his boundaries and he would never forgive himself if he crossed yours

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

this man was a marine he can go for as long as your heart desires. if you're not satisfied then neither is he

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i dont think he has any for his own personal use but he probably has a few toys for spicing things up when you're together. he’ll bust out his vibrating cock ring for funsies sometimes

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

hes not a huge tease but sometimes he’ll do it just to see you flustered. hes usually too clueless but he’ll whisper shit in your ear because he knows it makes you crumble. but not crazy on teasing cuz he just wants to please you, if anything HES the one getting teased

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

definitely a whimperer. hes usually not very vocal though so its a nice treat when he lets one slip. he's usually too busy talking you through it to make noise, but when hes bottoming though….. yeah not even a pillow is masking that shit

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

cant cum without a good makeout sesh. its his favorite type of foreplay cuz its so intimate and gets him in the mood instantly. sometimes you dont even get to fucking because hes just glued to your lips; he could probably finish from just making out alone

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

hes packing a good 6.5-7 inches with the perfect girth that stretches you out. also a pale shaft with a cute pink tip

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

hes not the super horny type but little things turn him on. like if youre super touchy with him he will fold instantly. if youre cuddling with him and you press your ass against him just to feel him get hard he’ll climb on top of you with almost no hesitation. hes so pathetic when hes needy too you can see it in his expression the way he craves you and only you UGHRHR

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

dae ho refuses to fall asleep before you, i think its impossible actually. your comfort is his biggest priority. he’ll usually snuggle up really close to you with his legs intertwined with yours and run his fingers through your hair, only dozing off when he notices your eyes finally close

[thegirlamongthestars]

nsfw alphabet - c.alcaraz

warnings: +18 content

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's literally glued to you. Nonstop cuddles and soft kisses everywhere. He also takes care of getting you clean (most of the time you just hop on the shower together and help each other soaping) and makes sure that you go to the bathroom after it.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's definetly an ass man. He just loves squeezing and pinching at every chance he has. Either you're cooking, brushing your teeth or just standing next to him. At least one of his hands is always on it.

Apart from that, he loves your waist. How perfectly his hands fit when he holds you, creating an intimate connection. The natural curve of it, accentuating your silhouette, it's something he finds irresistibly alluring and feminine.

Your favorite part of him is, without a doubt, his arms. You love everything about them. The size of his biceps, the marked veins throughout them and of course, his big hands. You just love how effortlesly he can lift you off your feet and pull you closer whenever he wants.

But let's be honest, everything about him is a big turn on for you.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He adores when you are giving him a blowjob and you let him finish in your mouth.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he would die to ask you to have sex in the locker room or any risky places at The Academy. The adrenaline after his trainings taking over him.

He tends to be the one leading the situation but he secretly adores when you are the one in charge. He loves being bossed around by you and feeling wrapped around your finger.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's had a few summer flings before you. He knows how to behave generally and your first time together was amazing. But after a few times of getting to know your body by himself and by asking your preferences directly, you're in seventh heaven everytime he touches you.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

He's a sucker for lotus position. Having you on top of him (controlling the depth of the thrusts) and being able to hold you as close as possible. The intimacy and the romanticism of it are the highlights for him.

He also loves bending you over any surface on the house either when you're on "rough mode" or when you just have time for a quickie.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He knows how to adapt it to the mood of the moment.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I think he keeps it neat but not fully shaved.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's all for intimacy! He loves praising you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But in the same amount, he loves teasing you (always respecting your limits). One thing he'll never ever do is degrading you (it is a major turn off for him)

When he has the time, which is not very often unfortunately, he loves preparing cheesy and romantic things for you. Like a bubble bath with candles where both of you can relax and reach another level of intimacy.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it when he's out at tournaments. For his birthday you gifted him an album of spicy polaroids and he always carries with him his favorite one. So normally he uses this, the simple thought of you or your voice through the phone to please himself.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves the size difference you have cause he's just able to handle you around whatever way he likes. Basically being able to demonstrate his strength whether he's fucking you pinned against the wall or in the shower.

As a sportsman he enjoys his fair amount of praise. Either directly when you are telling him how well he's doing or indirectly, by the incesant moans he causes you. He also loves showering you with praises at everything you do.

And finally, the adrenaline of taking risks as I said before... 🤭

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

I think he loves the bed the most. It's basic but he feels safe, protected and he's able to concentrate just on pleasuring you. However he also loves a little bit of teasing in public and taking you in the kitchen counter after breakfast on Sundays.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything related to you. Looking at you, the way you dress, YOUR PERFUME/NATURAL SCENT (gets him going as fast as the speed of light), your confidence and manners... He's just head over heels for his woman.

n= no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that can cause you a potential damage or anything that you hadn't agreed on.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Let's be honest in here. He's a guy, he really enjoys when you go down on him.

But the power he feels when he's eating you out, it's something off the charts for him. How you squirm under his tongue, the way you gasp for air everytime he sucks you and your sweet sounds are all he needs to be happy.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the mood of the moment. For example, when he's full of adrenaline after he won a game or a tournament he'll give you the most delicious fast, rough and deep pace ever. But when he loses, he becomes super clingy with you so you'll have this tender, slow and sweet pace.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

One of his top favorites (and for you ofc, cause even on a short time he can make you finish every time 😌). It is just so practical, you both get satisfied and you can still reach to your respective chores.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes yes yes! He's very exploring on this sense, 1. because everything new adds to his experience of pleasing you and giving you the best sex of your life and 2. because he just enjoys being dutiful and proving that he can become the best at anything he proposes.

s= stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Let's be for real, just look at him playing🤭. And also just look at the size of those quads and biceps. He can go all night long! He always leave you completely worn out after two rounds.

t= toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You own toys and when he discovered it he couldn't be more excited to try them out. His favourite is any one related to vibration/suction. More specifically, he recently bought you vibrating panties and he has the time of his life controlling the speed and intensity of it.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

We've all seen that cheeky smile of his 🤤 he adoooores teasing you, both on the sexual and on everyday situations.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

LOUD and he's not remotely ashamed of it (thank God 😩)

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves watching you on tennis skirts or dresses and when you surprise him with no underwear beneath them, he goes WILD. You'll find him asking his Nike people to provide him with female sportwear of every collection they launch.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

The evidence is out there and I think we can all agree on this one without the need of words 😇

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He wants to have you ALL the time.

"I'm just obsessed with you, what can I do?" he would say.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After he's done with all his aftercare and you're both comfortable, he dozes off quickly just by listening to your heartbeat.

[goldencharlie]

carlos alcaraz nsfw alphabet

minors dni, not proofread, english is not my first language, please share your thoughts in my inbox <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

needs a few minutes to catch his breath, lay on top of you and just feel your skin against his own before he slowly gets up. will put his shirt over your head, telling you to lift your arms as he gently gets you dressed. honestly aftercare doesn’t go too crazy, will pull you into his chest, stroking your hair and just talk about whatever.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite body part of his are his hands, he loves the way they wrap around your throat, the way they make you fall apart with barely any effort, because he knows exactly how the make you feel. he knows what to do with them, watching them disappear between your thighs, fingers slick and knuckles deep inside of you.

on you he loves your neck, not just because it’s sensitive but because he’s obsessed with marking you up. carlos loves seeing the marks he leaves, loves pressing his mouth there and hearing you whimper. sometimes he does it just to watch you squirm in public later, pretending nothing’s there when you both know it is.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

oh he’s cumming inside 100%. definitely has a breeding kink. heavy on wanting a family with you even if he realistically knows you’re too young and busy right now but he still loves cumming inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he has a folder on his phone, the hidden one, full of videos videos of the two of you, photos from nights you barely remember, little screen recordings of the audios you sent him, of your voice when you’re moaning his name. sometimes he watches them on long trips, headphones in, jaw tight and hand busy

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he has definitely had his fare share of hookups let’s not even pretend. so he definitely has enough experience to know how to make you loose your mind.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

i wanna say missionary, just something about the eye contact always gets him. pulling your legs around his waist or over his shoulders so he can reach as deep as possible and just staring into your eyes. and whenever it gets too much he can just bury his face in your neck or boobs and whine into your skin as you pull on his hair.

but also as described here, carlos definitely has his days where he will just bend you over the next surface and fuck you into the next week

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

it is a good mixture of both, there are definitely moments where you giggle at each other (when your switching positions and he commands you around or when he’s laying too much weight on you, etc) but other than that your pleasure is serious business to him.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

honestly doesn’t care about it, he’ll shave if he feels like it in the moment. sometimes that’s every 2 days sometimes that’s every 2 weeks nobody knows.

but his happy trail stays!!!!!!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

very intimate most of the times. he just loves you so much and loves being close to you, cupping your face in his hands and pressing a small kiss against your forehead or running gentle hands all over your legs as he eats you out.

but he has his moments where he honestly just bends you over, pressing your face into the pillow as his thighs meet the back of your and his hand leaves an imprint on your ass.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

happens more often than he would like to. he’s just away so much of the times and while he knows you have a life of your own and can’t join him for every single tournament he’s still pouty. but carlos is also a little shit that will always let you know that he’s thinking of you/hard/jerking off. when he feels kind he’ll send a warning along the lines of “don’t open in public” but most of the times he won’t.

i don’t think he sends straight up dick pics (only when he’s really desperate) but more teasing. like mirror selfies, manspreading on the bed, flexing his abs as his hand palms his bulge. or really zoomed in into his lower abdomen, defined v line on display and a trail of hair leading into his boxers where you’ll find a small wet spot of precum.

also a little perv who jerks off on the phone listening to your voice as you talk about your day.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

breeding kink

strength kink - it turns him on to no end to physically see how much stronger he is than you. picking you up and fucking you up against a wall, your legs clinging onto his waist as your fingernails dig into his tensed bicep. again he’s a little shit, he’ll let you think you’re in control before using his strength against you. sitting on his lap and grinding over his bulge as you hold his arms down, which absolutely does nothing but push your tits into carlos’ face but hey he’s not gonna tell you that. instead he’s just laying there, letting you think you’re in control, might even weakly try to move his arms to give you an ego boost before then catching you off guard. quickly moving his arms around your waist to just hold you down while he hammers into you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere, doesn’t matter to him. i don’t think he’s into anything public but anywhere in your own four walls is good enough.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

neck kisses

your nails running over his skin, specifically over his torso and his scalp

praise/letting him know how much you want him/how much you adore him

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything public, it’s just too risky for him. quickies in a bathroom would only happen if it’s one stall only, etc.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

i mentioned this here but you will literally have beard burn on your inner thighs because carlos will spend hours in between your legs. uses tongue on the first kiss and eats you out after the second date.

it’s his way off shutting his mind off, arms wrapped around your thighs as he moves his lips over your clit, tongue darting out gently to swirl around the bundle of nerves. will straight up moan into your heat as your fingers tangle into his air, hazel eyes looking up at you as he presses kisses over your center.

loves getting head too tho & is a head pusher!!!!!!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

slow but rough, every single thrust is sending you up the mattress. knows his and your angles perfectly and uses it to his advantage, pulling out slowly so you feel every inch before thrusting into you harshly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

very very frequent. his days are long and he has to use every free minute he can find, texting you his location with a quick “hurry up we have 7 minutes” before he takes you in his locker room.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s definitely very willing to experiment, whenever there’s like a new thing that’s going viral on tiktok (like the spelling your name with your hips, etc) he’s the first one to bring it up.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

is anyone doubting his stamina after a 5:30 hour long final? obviously that’s a different sport (😭) but he has good stamina, can and will go for multiple rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i don’t think he owns toys himself but he 100% would find it super hot if you randomly send him a nice little audio when he’s away. soft moans hitting his ear before he can recognize the purring of your vibrator in the background.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

for the 100th time in this thing he’s such a little shit. he’s definitely a big tease, big on running his tip through your wetness and only pushing it on a little before moving away again, etc.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

loud and whiny - no comment we all know it

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he has a thing for mirrors, might not admit it out loud, but the first time he fucked you in front of one, something in him snapped. now he positions you just right in front of every hotel mirror he’ll find knees spread, back arched, so you can both watch. he tells you to keep your eyes open, to look at what he’s doing to you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

pretty average length wise but thick, definitely has to pause for a minute after pushing into you to let you adjust. and even after the 100th time having sex with carlos you’re still not used to his dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

high, he’s young and in love, he could have sex with you every minute of the day if it was up to him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

not that quickly to be honest, i feel like carlos is more of a cuddler. just putting in some random show for background noise, your head on his chest as you listen to his heartbeat mixed with his deep voice. his fingers gently running through your hair and goosebumps spreading on his skin as you move your fingers over it.

[nastythangzzz]

BTS OT7 X Female reader

Warning : this is nasty so get ready, gangbang, double, triple & fourth penetration, public sex, anal sex, squirting, slapping, spitting, aftercare, creampie etc..

Down there, I’ll write differents scenarios of OP being fucked by ot7 bts. AND if you guys like these kind of scenarios, you can ask me to develop and to write about it more!! Also if you want to develop it yourself you can ask me in private :))

scenario 1 : where you are a slutty and whorish girl. You can’t go a day without smth inside you. You would sneak out while your family was asleep just to go to a different club where you gets gangbanged and thrown like a rag doll by different men. Heck, you would even sneak out to participate in gloryholes where you pretends you works there so you can fuck everyone. You can’t stay with one boyfriend, you wants as many dicks you can. You’ll hump and insert everything in your pussy and ass whenever you gets the chance. Wherever you’re in school, restaurant, club, public road, weddings, events, etc… if you gets horny while ur out, you’ll squirt and fuck your self right there without knowing. You loves the thrill of getting caught.

One day you were on your way back to home after having a stressful and hard day, you were just begging for dicks atp. You were getting horny and worked up alone your car, you reached an empty long abandoned road that no one walks by anymore. You walked out your car and went looking for your differents toys in the back of your car hidden in depth. You were wearing a tight short dress with stockings, you immediately left out your stockings long ago, wearing nothing underneath. You went out ur way to put the biggest butt plug you have in your asshole and immediately shoved the biggest dildo you have towards you pussy. And you were doing this in the open, bitting your lips and letting the most obscene loud moans. You practically squirted 4 times in a row, putting different dildos and butt plugs up on ur pussy and ass. So much cum and squirt were oozing out ur pussy and asshole. Since you were most an anal freak, you put the biggest dildo up your ass and rammed it roughly, you went back and front shoving the biggest dildo you have up on your pussy and ass, leaving behind a long trail of cum and squirt. What you didn’t you know is that you were being watched by 7 men. Those 7 men were in fact construction workers who were being called to restore and repair that empty road you were in fact fucking yourself in. The sight of yourself was to die for. You were brutally shoving that dildo up on your pussy, a big plug inside your ass while moaning and pinching your nipples. You were hoping for someone to catch, bend you and fuck the hell outta you. After some long minutes of fucking yourself publicly, you noticed some men looking at you. You put your dildo on the ground and went on your knees to ride it hard, and at the same time you pushed another dildo towards your mouth. Anyone coming close or far to you, will hear clapping noises. In fact, you were riding your dildo in the ground brutally, slapping your ass and sucking the hella out of that silicone. You stopped yourself from cumming by leaving that dildo out of your pussy and instead shoving it inside your asshole. The boys had enough so they immediately went over you. You were not taken aback at all, you were waiting for it.

“Let’s not talk too much. Just tell me yall names and Treat me like the slut I am” you said while slapping and rubbing your pussy in front of them.

The boys introduced themselves one by one and it felt like you were in heaven. They were so attractive, so big and tall. You went on your knees, pulled all of their pants and sucked them off. Their cocks were huge and veiny, you couldn’t wait to have all them inside you. And you don’t care if anyone other than the 7 of them joins you.

You kept sucking and gagging on their cocks. Your mascara and whole makeup were ruined. They kept slapping their cocks to your cheeks and mouth, all while yelling profanities at you.

Jungkook took you harshly by your hair, bent you over your car and immediately shoved himself into your wet pussy all while leaving long and rough kisses all along your neck. The rest of the boys stood next to you and were slowly jacking themselves off. You couldn’t wait to get fucked by all of them. Your pussy was letting obscene noises, by the time you’ll get fucked by the million time by them, both of your pussy and ass will get loose and slippery.

You quickly reached your orgasm with jungkook but you still wanted more. Namjoon took you from Jungkook’s hands, held you in the air and abruptly shoved himself into you. Your pussy was so so hot and wet and it felt like heaven for them. Jimin came behind you and immediately shoved his whole cock into your asshole. Your asshole was well prepared and wet so you immediately moaned and lowered your head at jimin’s so he can also leave kisses to your neck. You were being fucked so good by them and so well taken care of. They were fucking you while at the same time, holding you gently and whispering nasty & beautiful things to your ears. You saw white and immediately squirted like a rain fall. Namjoon left your pussy out while you were still being fucked in the ass by jimin. You and him stood alone, him still plowing your asshole, your pussy was wide open for all the boys to see. The rest of the boys, came close to your pussy, and one by one, shoved their cock back and forth so you can squirt more. It started by yoongi, then taehyung, then Jin then jhope. All them fucked your pussy back and forth for some minutes, not letting you cum, they were holding your head and spitting on your face, all while fucking your brains out. They were playing with your pussy by slapping their cocks into your pussy and seeing so much squirting come out made them sure it will fill a bucket. All of this was happening while they were switching between your pussy and asshole. You had a train ran on you on public and you loved it, both of your pussy and ass were loose that even their fist will fit.

Taehyung took you by the waist and made you bent over your car, spreading your legs. The boys can see all the mess they made, jhope spread both of your pussy and ass for all the boys to see. They started slapping your asscheeks and pussy all while spitting and sucking on it. Your pussy and especially your ass, were so loose and gaped that they wished they all can fit their cocks into you.

As a final fucking, you were taken on jin’s arms and laid on your car. Since you had a big car with a folding top, it was easy for the rest of the boys to join you. You had him immediately plow your pussy, he stopped for a second so yoongi can join him in your pussy. The stretch was so good and you had no pain since you was used to being double fucked in the pussy by different men. they both were thrusting inside you at the same time and plowing your back out. They again stopped for a second so the other boys can fuck your ass too. Taehyung came close to you and roughly shoved himself into your ass. You let a loud ass moan that’s probably heard from afar. You couldn’t stop screaming and moaning when jhope added himself to taehyung fucking both of your ass at the same time. You were in a wonderful and unbelievable place, you were being fourth penetrated by 4 attractive men who have the biggest and thickest dicks you’ve seen. You were being double fucked in your pussy and at the same time double fucked in your asshole.

“Oh fuck… like this like this… fuck this is so gooodddd… like that… fuck me like that please…..” you said while screaming and moaning hard.

The boys inside you made it their mission to thrust into you brutally and hardly at the same time all while pulling your hair, kissing your neck and face, and screaming profanities and insults towards you.

Anyone passing by this road will take a notice of your purely pornographic moans. In fact, you were looking like you came out straight of a porn scene but you were always like that. If it wasn’t for your family and friends, you would straight up debut in the porn department bagging and riding as much cocks as you want. Hell you’d even fuck the whole cast.

You were in an ecstatic state, your makeup was ruined and your face was full of cum. You had red handprints all over your face and asscheeks. Both of your pussy and ass were loose, gaped and well fucked, so much cum were oozing out of it. Your pussy was left long ago while you were still being double fucked in your ass with squirt coming out your pussy. After a long hour of switching places and being fucked multiple times in the ass and pussy, they were not making it easy, pulling their cocks back and forth into you. You finally reached your climax and almost fainted. You laid on your car spreading your legs and let all the boys cum on you. You had your boobs, face, pussy and ass full of cum and you liked the sight of it.

“Now smile for the camera bitch” said jimin while filming and snapping pictures of you.

Since the boys saw you masturbating by yourself, jimin took his phone and filmed all the scene, from when you started fucking yourself with your dildos, fingers and butt plugs to the boys ramming you brains out.

The boys made it their mission to take pictures of every part of your body, your pussy, gaped asshole and your face full of sticky cum. By the end, they all held you in the air, spreading your legs, touching your pussy and pinching your nipple so jimin can take a selfie of all of you together. You couldn’t wait for the boys to send you everything they took so you can jack off about later.

So the boys left you alone with their numbers registered on your phone, before they left, they took care of you, they made you drink water and clean your face, they wanted to clean your whole body but you couldn’t let them and since you are a dirty slut, you told them that you liked having cum left on you whenever you get gangbanged. They were shocked and couldn’t wait to bang you the next time.

[shegatsby]

The Bikerider and The Nurse

A/N: Hi guys! I'm here with a new fic. I wanted to keep the first chapter short but don't worry, it's gonna be a long ass fic with smut in the future! Let me know if you want to be tagged. Love you xxx

Words: 1.583K TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Warnings: Injury but not detailed so don't worry.

Chapter One

‘’It’s gonna be a long ass night.’’ Elena complained, they were wearing their uniforms for their night shift, Y/N loved the nights, she loved helping people and usually the nights were calm but this night was different. There was a bar fight, the rumor reached before the patients. She wore her white long dress uniform and white pumps, when she quickly tied her hair and placed the white cap she ran out of the lounge. She was the right hand of an old doctor, no one usually liked him because he was grumpy but Y/N admired him because he worked in the army during the WW2 and his knowledge of medicine was beyond anyone she had ever met. Dr. Smith didn’t like most of his colleges because they kept complaining but Y/N was different, she turned up out of nowhere one day and showed her determination for the job and that’s why the old man kept her by his side during any complicated surgeries or important cases. He kept mentioning that she should go back to school and become a doctor but Y/N kindly smiled and said she was happy being a  nurse, he knew she could do it, she had the capacity unlike these morons he had to see every day. Dr. Smith wasn’t a stupid man, whenever he asked her a personal question such as her hometown, her parents etc. she was perfectly giving diplomatic answers and then disappearing. No one knew where she was from or anything personal about Y/N but for Dr. Smith as long as she was useful he didn’t mind her back story.

Elena was her friend, over the months they had bounded but Y/N was smart enough to keep her distance, Elena kept inviting her to this bar she and her husband were regulars or the picnics they were having with their friends.. Y/N kept kindly declining the offers but Elena never felt sad or angry. She was few years older than Y/N and she knew that this young woman had a tragic past, she could feel it in her bones so Elena decided to be gentle and never take things personal.

As they were running to the emergency wing Dr. Smith called for Y/N, there was a patient from the bar fight and his condition was more severe than the others so she followed the old man.

‘’Caucasian male, in his late 20s, other than bruises he has a damaged ankle..’’ the other nurse was explaining the situation when Y/N was startled for a second. There was man laying on the hospital bed with his dirty clothes, his dirty blonde hair and mustache was the first details she had noticed, even though he was unconscious he had a stern look on his face, his jaw and high cheeks were sharp looking, he had this thick jacket that one of his ringed hands were holding tight, as she got closer she heard that he was mumbling something… Y/N  got closer and bend over the bed to hear him clearly,

‘’Don’t,’’ he was saying, ‘’Don’t take the jacket off.’’

Y/N looked at Dr. Smith, ‘’He doesn’t want us to take the jacket off.’’ She said calmly, ‘’I don’t care about the damn jacket, this man needs surgery right now or he is about to lose his foot!’’ he was right, Y/N knew that she would be in the surgery room assisting the doctor so they took him immediately in. Before the surgery Y/N took his jacket off and put it in her locker, she decided to give it to him once he wakes up.

After the surgery she had found out that the man was Elena’s husband’s friend from some motorcycle club. Elena thanked her for taking care of him and she said that four of them should hang out once he gets better, after Elena hugged her thankfully Y/N held her arm before she left, it was dawn and theit shift had ended, ‘’What’s..’’ she began and cleared her throat, ‘’What’s his name? I didn’t look at the papers so I don’t-‘’

Elena laughed with her signature laugh, she was a cheerful woman,

 ‘’His name is Benny, Benny Cross.’’

Before she left work she didn’t forget to get his jacket from the locker, she wanted to wash it at home and bring it to the hospital, she had another shift starting in the afternoon.

In the afternoon, the jacket was clean and dry, and she was marching to the hospital. After wearing her uniform she learned which room they took him and she directly walked there. Her plan was to put the jacket there and leave to her surprise he was awake. When she walked in they locked eyes, he was laying there, dark circles under his deep blue eyes, he looked tired. There was a white cast on his ankle and covering his foot. She brought the jacket and put it on the chair next to his bed, no words were exchanged. She gently smiled after that and turned to leave before she heard him.

‘’Thank you.’’ His raspy voice was low, she stopped at the threshold and turned to him, ‘’You’re welcome.’’ She replied shortly and walked out of the room. She loved helping people and it wasn’t the first time she did something for a patient but she felt strange. There was a heavy feeling on her chest, she had to ignore it and get to work. She had to ignore because the last time she had given in to those feelings she had to leave her home and family behind and start fresh. There was a reason why no one knew anything personal about her and she had to keep it that way.

Days passed, she woke up, went to work, did her best and got home. She was used to this routine but Elena had a problem with it. She kept begging to Y/N, inviting her everywhere. They were in the lounge when Elena cornered her, ‘’You only have morning shift right?’’ she questioned her with her deep eyes, ‘’Yes.’’ Was Y/N’s answer. ‘’Then you’re coming with us this evening.’’ There she was, inviting her again, this time Y/N was silent for a while, usually her immediate response was ‘’Sorry but I have other things to do.’’ But this time she considered her options. She was a young woman and she deserved to be sociable in life, she couldn’t always be scared and look back. Y/N said she would be there and she just needed the address, there was a bar Elena and her husband were regulars of. She laughed when she saw Elena’s eyes got bigger by shock, ‘’Really? You are coming?’’ her mouth was open. Y/N laughed again, ‘’Yes. I would love to hang out with you and your husband, he seems like a nice guy.’’ It was about time she faced her fears. She was safe now, no one could harm her, not anymore. Elena gave her the address of the bar.

During the day she helped Dr. Smith, attended small surgeries, she was usually at the Emergency wing. At 5pm her shift ended so she went home, ate and took a shower.

She found herself in front of her bedroom mirror, she wore a dark red blouse and beige jeans with flat shoes, her hair was loose and she did a light make up. She looked at her finished look, it had been while since she went out and she felt powerful, finally her life was stable and she was saving money, making new friends. She looked very happy. She got her back, even gave herself a wink on the mirror and locked her door. She took the bus to the bar.

There were so many bikes outside of the bar she was startled, Elena had mentioned that her husband belonged to a motorcycle club and they would hang out together, the wives and girlfriends, they would have Sunday picnics as well. The door of the bar was wide open and people were coming and going, mostly men. She approached slowly, like a cat. There were some men wearing the same jacket she washed and cleaned for her patient last week, he must be a member of this club. These men were laughing really hard and drinking, she could see shadows through the windows and she found herself taking a step back, should she go in? It would be rude not to, Elena would be very upset… but she could lie to Elena and make up an excuse.. as she was having a mental breakdown a tall man walked passed her, he was limping a bit. He had dirty blonde hair, he was walking slowly to the bar with one of his hands holding his cigarette. She could only see his back but he looked familiar. When he reached the threshold  he stopped and turned to look at her, and that’s when she realized who was this young man. He was her patient from last week, Benny Cross. His blue eyes found her, they shared a brief moment of acknowledging each other, she swore she saw a faint smile on his face and then he walked in.

She noticed that she had been standing there for almost 7 minutes, people started to notice so she looked back at the road and then looked at the bar, a sudden feeling of courage washed over her entire body and her feet took her to the open door.

Thank you for reading. :)

[greytongue]

Hi! I requested that fic about gum earlier and honestly? It was absolutely gorgeous! If you were still writing fiction, maybe you might be interested in my idea?

Some kind of fluff about how Leon shows his care in minor details (which obviously are not such for him). For example, the reader always walks on the inside of the sidewalk when they are together, or the side of Leon's bed is closer to the door. And when he makes you tea or coffee, of course he always takes a small sip to make sure that it won't be too hot for the reader. Maybe you have ideas for something similar?

thank you very much for the ask!!!! hope you enjoy <3

content themes: leon's love language is a mix of quality time and acts of service

an absolute gentleman, albeit awkward. he tries to show his love and care as casually and subtle as possible. he doesn’t like a whole lot of attention when he does things, a simple “thank you.” will do

ensures your safety. his line of work has him paranoid. makes sure you’re on the inside of the sidewalk away from the road. if you’re bending over to reach for something under a table or cabinet, he places a hand over the edge so you don’t hit your head when you’re straightening up. If you’re walking through a crowd or tight space, he likes to have a gentle hand on your shoulder blade to guide you

opens the door for you. when you say thank you, leon scratches his head and looks away, muttering a “sure thing.” under his breath

likes to offer a hand whenever you need help. whether it be finding that missing ingredient you absolutely need for a recipe that you know is somewhere in the house or just plain old car maintenance, he’s your guy

he’s not a very talkative guy, but a great listener. is always there to hear you out on your rants. he likes to ask you about your day or “how’s that __ thing going?” just to get you talking

remembers small things about you. your favorite color, favorite food, what you like and what you don’t in general. it can even be a small “i remember you saying that.” during a conversation

thoroughly prepared for any aches or pains you might have. before he knew you, the only things he carried on him were his phone, wallet, and keys. now, travel sized containers of pain meds and random bandaids are always shoved in his pant pockets. if he sees any signs of discomfort (such as a headache), he casually hands you some tylenol and water without saying anything. he doesn’t want you to feel bad in any capacity

enjoys sharing things. food, a sip of his coffee, chapstick, etc.

would absolutely gift you small weapons for you to protect yourself with. pocketknives, switchblades, tasers, stuff like that. he’ll teach you a thing or two in knife safety

[icedemi]

CHUUYA NAKAHARA NSFW ALPHABET ?!

cw : not proofread, dark content, mention of "slut" "whore" "cum dump" + escort girls. sex toys. chuuya gets pegged ! first time writing smut.. MDNI !! NSFW content below the cut! 🩷

A = aftercare (what they're like after the act)

would offer you a cigarette, draw you a warm bath (with candles and wine ofc!!) and cuddle with you!!

constantly asking for reassurance that he wasn't too rough on you!!

B = body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

loves loves LOVES your boobs!! he'll lick, suck, bite and drool all over them !!

when you two are at home, he'll come up behind you and grope your tits. slowly teasing your sensitive nipples through your shirt and bra.

he likes his hands, they're long 'n veiny reaching unthinkable spots deep inside you

C= cum (anything that has to do with it)

wouldn't cum inside, especially if it's your first time.. so he'd usually ask where you'd want it.

his cum is sweet, a bit watery and very sticky. his loads are average, not too much and not too little!

D= dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

he really wants to fuck you infront of his subordinates, or even dazai for that matter.

he wants to show you off, praising you for being such an obedient slut <33

E= experience (do they know what they're doing)

he's had a few hookups, mostly from prostitutes / escort girls so he knows what he's doing.

F= favorite position

hard to say... i personally think he'd be a doggy style kinda guy.. maybe spooning?? depends on his mood.

G= goofy (how serious are they)

semi-serious when it comes to sex, he occasionally breaks character and let's out a little giggle <33

H= hair (grooming habits)

pretty well groomed, a bit of a happy trail but it's barely noticeable.

wouldn't ask you to shave, it's your body after all. he loves you no matter what.

I= intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/ dirty)

he can be really sweet during sex, praising you and kissing you all over!!

but if someone pissed him off at work he's gonna bend you over and take his anger out on you!! his precious slut!!

J= jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he finds it embarrassing sometimes, but when he's stressed and you aren't available he looks at the picture of you on his desk :3 (or phone)

K= kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

degradation, breeding, anal? choking etc.. (basically all things bdsm)

also likes some casual vanilla sex whenever he's feeling romantic <33

L= location (where they like to get it on)

his office, alleyways, the bedroom, kitchen counter. as long as you're happy he doesn't really care <33

M= motivation (things that makes them tick/ turn ons)

seeing your perky tits bounce up and down is enough to get his dick twitching and leaking with pre-cum within seconds..

oh and if some cleavage is showing? you better call in sick tomorrow 'cause you won't be walking for awhile!

N= no (turnoffs or absolutely won't do)

wouldn't force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with, he's constantly asking if you're okay and if you're feeling good !!

he wouldn't ever hurt you unless you really wanted it..

O= oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

prefers receiving but wouldn't mind having you sit on his face once in awhile <33

100% would pull your hair and push you further down his long veiny cock!! (afterwards he'd pull out and slap his cock all over your make-up smudged, teary-eyed face)

P=Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

covered in stamina !!

Q= quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

wouldn't mind quickies, especially if he has a meeting or mission soon!!

R= risk (do they like to try new things)

he's willing to try anything as long as you two have a safe word and are both comfortable!!

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

could go for about 2-3 rounds before he's shooting blanks, you'll know when he's getting tired when he starts whimpering and whining.

T=Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

if you beg him enough, he'd let you peg him with one of your cute pink dildos he bought you. and if you're nice enough he'd let you plug his ass with the matching butt plug!!! (im 100% writing a fic about this)

he'd use vibrators and fucking machines on you!! he'd leave you tied up with a vibrator pressed against your clit when you've been bratty <33

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

loves teasing, hates being teased.

he'll rub painfully slow circles over your clothed cunt until tears spill from your eyes

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

prefers to keep it at a lower level, but wouldn't mind having you screaming and gushing on his cock!

100% would whisper degrading words into your ear!!

things like : "my slut" "dirty whore" "cum dump" etc.

W=Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

couldn't think of anything here, sorry loves !!

X=X-ray (what's down below in dem pants)

5inches soft, 5.6inches hard. very veiny and thick with a beautiful rosey pink tip!! (very sensitive)

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

doesn't get horny all too much, usually you two have sex once, maybe three times a week!!

Z=Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

after he knows you're okay and have everything you need, he sleeps like a baby. using your soft tits as a pillow <33

please don't steal/translate my content >:( it's mean and ill cry.. reblogs r appreciated and ill kiss you!! /p

[teecupangel]

What about a kitsune Desmond, a white fox appears shortly after Altaïr's birth white as snow with one black leg and golden eyes it follows Altaïr for his entire life seemingly never aging and smarter than any animal should be. Years after Altaïr's death Des feels a pull and shows up at the birth of Ezio and gains a second tail, the same trend continues with the Frye twins, the Kenways and the other two post Altaïr protagonists whose names escape me right now which if my math is correct leaves him able to get his ninth tail as he steals his infant self from the farm

I'd imagine he'd get more powers from each tail he grows maybe foxfire with his second (fire that burns as bright as the sun) and gaining a human form around 4 or 5

I’m going to be honest with you, nonny, I know a bit about kitsunes, specifically fox spirits, because one of my favorite characters during my childhood is Daji (specifically Dakki from the og Houshin Engi anime) and I never stopped loving her in all her malicious tyrannical glory.

While fox spirits/kitsunes can be benevolent or malicious, a lot of fox spirits are shown to be trickster.

… and seducers.

Like, being able to shapeshift into beautiful women and men who ‘bewitches’ or seduces humans are signs of how old a fox spirit is XD

But I kinda like the idea that Desmond remains as a fox the entire time, never changing in size or weight.

His tails can easily be ‘disguised’ into one tail by making sure they all move as one so it just looks like he has one big bushy tail (which is strange but not ‘mythical’ strange).

Now, we want Desmond to have 9 tails so the list of people would be:

his initial tail

Altaïr’s

Ezio’s

Edward’s

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s

Arno’s

Evie’s

Jacob’s

The ninth tail would be his own infant self.

My suggestion for his powers are, depending on how many tails he has, he unlocks:

Immortality and eternal youth (default)

Foxfire (kitsunebi) – the number he can summons grows with the number of tails he has

Dream sharing with his current connection (Ezio, Ratonhnhaké:ton, etc) – he always appears as Desmond Miles in their dreams

Shapeshifts to Desmond Miles

Shapeshifts to any human he is familiar with (having genetic connections with them makes it faster to shift to their form)

Shapeshifts to anything that is not human

Possession (having a genetic connection with Desmond Miles makes it easier to possess that person)

Ability to cast illusions that are almost impossible to distinguish from reality

Omniscience due to a direct connection with the Calculations

(These are all powers that are more or less seen in kitsune stories. If you think there’s too many shapeshifting powers, kitsunes are also known for being able to turn invisible, can fly, bend time and space or make people crazy)

Oh and making Desmond a white kitsune is *chef’s kiss*. In folklore, a white kitsune has reaches the top of its powers and is called celestial/heavenly which is a good foreshadowing on how powerful Desmond could become.

If I may suggest, whenever Desmond uses his foxfire, his tails is engulfed in white flames like this (but white and gold and without the ‘seal’:

[giggly-squiggily]

Babysitter's Guide To Watching Eri (My Hero Academia)

Heyo! This is a gift for the ever amazing @thatbigbisexual29 A while back we were talking about Bakugou and Eri and how cute they'd be as a duo, and thus; this fic has been born! This is pretty self indulgent and likely OOC but who cares- it's Bakugou and Eri! I hope y'all like it! :D

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @duckymcdoorknob @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @backy-san @nutzgunray-lvt @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mochigiggle @chibisstuff

Summary: In an unexpected turn of events, Bakugou is tasked with babysitting Eri for the day.

When it came to looking after Eri, a few faces immediately came to mind.

First of course was Mirio. The kind hearted hero adored the girl and would bend over backwards to entertain her whenever Aizawa and Mic had hero work to attend to. It didn’t matter what was going on- he was ready to rush over and play whenever needed.

The next was Midoriya. If Mirio was busy or they simply desired another playmate, they’d grab the freckled boy from his studies and invite him over. He’d run through the door with a proud “I am here!” that left Eri squealing in glee and Mirio chucking at how into his role he got for the little girl.

There were others; Nejiri who was always down to play dress up and princess tea party with Eri; Shinsou who helped her with her drawings and watched movies with her; and the U-A girls like Uraraka and Tsuyu who always took her to fun places like the space zone or the aquarium, pointing out cool things and treating her to snacks.

Alas- none of those options were available today for Eri. Mirio and Nejire had work, Midoriya and the girls were finishing their internships, and Shinsou was in extra classes for the hero course. Things were rather…tense as the realization hit them.

“What are we gonna do? We can’t bring her with us during our patrol!” Mic was pacing around the room back and forth in thought, just barely avoiding pulling out his hair. “And all the pro’s are busy- oh man why of all the days!”

“We’ll figure it out. We just need to find someone on short notice.” Aizawa slumped forward in his seat, trying to think. Who was available with no plans today? “Yaoyorozu maybe?”

“Yeah! No…wait- Midnight needed her.” Mic deflated. “Oh! What about Tokoyami?”

“Hawks.” They said at the same time, shaking their heads. “Nearly all the students are being taken up for missions right now- it’s not fair to expect them to bail for our sake. What do we do…” Mic doubled over the desk, holding his head.

Just then- an answer walked through the door.

“Hey- Mr. Aizawa, Best Jeanist texted. He said he wouldn’t be able to take me with him today- some emergency came up.” Bakugou knocked before poking his head through the door, looking a bit disgruntled. “Should I see if Endeavor needs more hands?”

Aizawa and Mic looked at eachother.

“Endeavor has plenty of hands.” Aizawa spoke, finalizing their decision. “However, we do need a favor…”

~~~

A babysitter job. Him- babysitting!

Good grief.

“Okay- here’s everything she’ll need. Eri’s fairly independent, so really the only thing you need to do is entertain her while we’re gone.” Mic had handed him a whole list- A LIST! Of things Eri liked. Everything from her favorite toys to her favorite drinks and snacks- all the movies she loved and games she usually played, etc. etc.

“We should be back a little after lunchtime so if you could take care of that; we have pre-made meals in the fridge, you just need to heat them up. Oh- and careful with the microwave; we don’t know what happened but it’s acting weird. Try not to hit any odd numbers, kay?”

“Odd numbers-wait; how long did you say?” Bakugou stammered as Mic bounced out the door, putting on his hero face. “Is this an all day thing?”

“Is that a problem?” Aizawa raised a brow. “Do you have anything planned today?”

“Well…no, I just…I’m not-” Bakugou waved his arms, feeling a bit helpless. “I’m not exactly great with kids.”

Aizawa softened, reaching out and patting Bakugou’s shoulder. “From what I’ve heard, you did fine with the kids during your remedial classes.”

“That’s only because they were a bunch of snot nosed brats. Plus I had help” Bakugou grumbled.

“That was a bunch of kids. This is Eri- the farthest thing from a brat.” Aizawa squeezed his arm before pulling back, adjusting his scarf. “She’s a good girl and doesn’t need much. Try not to scare her. You know how you can be.”

“I’m not-” Bakugou growled, then snapped his mouth shut when he realized he was proving Aizawa’s point. “Fine. I’ll be…gentle.”

“Thank you again, Bakugou. We truly appreciate it.” Aizawa nodded before heading out, officially leaving Eri in the teen’s care.

“...Heh. Okay, squirt- where do we even-” Bakugou turned to face her but found…nothing. She was nowhere to be seen. “Eri? Hey, where are you?”

Poking his head down the hall, he found her hiding behind a door frame, peeking at him. “You good, kid?”

Eri seemed…scared. Bakugou winced at himself; he hadn’t even talked to her today yet and he already scared her. Sighing, he squatted down to her level, offering a hand. “Look- I know I seem scary, but I promise I’m not gonna yell at you. Whatever you want to do today, we can do, alright?”

The girl seemed to relax some, her expression still nervous. Slowly, she crept towards him, little hands folded on her chest as she looked at her feet. “Sorry…”

“Huh? Why are you apologizing?” She winced at his tone. He internally punched himself. “Er-sorry. Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You have to watch me. I ruined your day.” She sounded close to tears. Bakugou felt his chest hurt. Did she hear him calling after Mic?

“No, no kid- you didn’t ruin anything. My day hasn’t even started yet.” With some hesitation, he reached out and patted her head, making her look up. “If you heard me talking to your papa, it wasn’t anything bad about you, I swear. I just don’t know how to…” he waved a hand between them, shrugging in such a manner that he got a smile. “But we can figure this out. We can play whatever you want- including…” He looked at the list, wincing. “Fairy Princess Ball.”

Eri giggled, her nerves easing away as she bounced up to him. “I love that game! But I always play it with Neji. I want to play something else.”

“Sure kid, let’s see.” Bakugou looked at the list once more, but Eri put her hands over it, pushing it down with a headshake.

“No list! I want to play something new.” She looked up at him, eyes dancing. “Something you came up with…erm…”

“Bakugou.” He gave her his name, watching her light up. “But I guess Katsuki is fine if  you want.”

“Ba…Baku..” She stammered on the words, then she looked at him. “Kacchy.”

“Close enough.”

~~~

“Ahoy my crew! We’re approaching deadly waters!” Eri cried from her pillow fort on the couch, holding a circular cushion in her small hands like a steering wheel. “They say a mean old sea monster lives here- we must be careful!”

“Oi who you calling old-er I mean…Grrrrrrr!” Eri giggled at the growling heard beneath a nearby blue blanket, slowly getting closer and closer to her “ship”. Behind her, her crew of squishmellows sat aligned, all dressed in pirate outfits and ready to assist.

“Do you hear that? It’s getting closer!” Eri looked around, pushing up her pirate hat as she searched for the monster. “Let’s turn to-”

“ROAR!” Bakugou shot from the blanket, a dragon hat on his head as he raised his arms high. Eri squealed, falling back in her pillows with a giggly shriek. “I’m a sea monster! And I’m gonna eat your boat!”

“Noo! Quick- Yuki! Save us!” Eri chucked her nearest Squishmellow at him, watching it bounce off his chest harmlessly. Bakugou flailed backwards anyway, pretending to be hit. “Go, go!”

“Gah! No! Not the dreaded squish!” He cried out as she assaulted him with squishmellow after squishmellow, finally jumping on him when she ran out. “Ah! No! It’s the Pirate Princess Eri!”

“That’s right! And I’m gonna take you out, Mr. Sea Monster! Take THIS!” She shot her hands out, scribbling them all over his belly with reckless abandon.

“AH! Ahehahahahhaa! Whahahahit- wahahhhahait I didiihihihihn’t agrehehehehehehehee to thihihihihiihs!” Bakugou spasmed with a yelp, not at all prepared for such acts! Semi buried beneath squishmellows, the blonde laughed and squirmed, fighting the urge to curse in front of Eri. “Ehahhhahahhaha, you brahhahahahhat! This ihihhihihihisn’t fahahahhahair!”

“He he he! Looks like you’re no match for the great Eri-EHH!” The little girl squealed when Bakugou suddenly lunged, gathering her up and gently tickling her back. “Ahehahahahahahahaha! Kahahhaahahahchy!”

“Who’s Kacchy? I’m the dreadful sea monster, remember? Forget eating your ship, I’m gonna eat YOU!” He roared playfully as he carried on tickling her, making Eri squeal and kick in glee. “I’m gonna roll you in flour, bake you and then eat you up bones and all!”

“Ahehahhhahahhaa! Nohohohoohohohoo!” Eri rolled out of his arms, running for her boat. “Stahhahay awhawhhahahay!” She squealed through her giggles as she grabbed her squishmellow, smacking him with it. “Tahhake that!”

“Oh, it is ON!” He grabbed the smallest squish he could find, lightly swatting back at her as she laughed herself silly. For someone so small, she sure could pack a hit!

RIIIIIP!

“Oh no!” Eri cried, freezing Bakugou in his spot. The squishmellow she was using to attack had suddenly ripped open- a huge gaping hole in the side. Stuffing rolled down the couch, littering the floor. “Yuki…”

Yuki…oh shit. That was one of her favorite toys from the list.

“Oh man, kid…” Bakugou paled upon looking at the mess. Eri’s eyes filled with tears.

Bakugou looked at her, then at the toy. Then he sighed, pulling off the dragon hat.

“No tears, Doctor Eri. We have a patient to fix.” He announced, making her look up. “Hang on- I have something that can fix Yuki.

~~~

“I didn’t know you could sew!” Eri sat wide eyed as she watched Bakugou carefully stitch back up her toy, his handiwork slow but consistent. “Where’d you learn that?”

“A hero has tons of tricks.” Bakugou grinned at her, pushing the fallen stuffing back in as he went along. “My parents are in the fashion business. My dad makes clothes while my mom models them. I helped them out a few summers- mainly just taking care of rips and tears in the clothes.”

“Wow…” Eri leaned into her hands, taking it all in. “Papa…he got me Yuki as a present when I first started living here.”

Ah. That made sense why the plush was so faded. It also explained Eri’s reaction. “Did he now?”

“Mm-hm! He came home with it one day- told me it was a present for my birthday!” Eri smiled at the memory, cheeks flushing with fondness for her adoptive parents. “It wasn’t really my birthday, but it was the first real gift from Daddy and Papa- I love it very much.”

Bakugou didn’t have much to say about that, finishing off the last stitch before puffing Yuki up some. “There we go. Good as new- er; minus the big scar.”

Eri practically tackled him, hugging his arm with a teary grin. “Thank you, Kacchy. And I don’t mind the scar. All the people I love have them.”

That’s when he realized she was looking at him too, at the faded scars along his bicep.

“Heh, I guess they do.” He laughed through a thick voice.

~~~

“Alright- let’s see…which one kid?” Bakugou presented both meals to Eri, watching her look each one over. It was around the afternoon when he got a text from Aizawa; turns out they weren’t gonna be back until late that evening; meaning it was up to Bakugou to prepare her meal.

“Hmm…this one!” She pointed, pleased with her decision. Bakugou nodded, putting the other away before popping the pre-made meal into the microwave. “Daddy makes the best food!”

“He does.” Bakugou agreed, knowing just how good Aizawa was as a cook. “He once made-”

The microwave beeped and shook. Bakugou paled upon realizing his mistake.

Don’t press any of the odd buttons!

“ERI MOVE!” Bakugou ran at her, gathering her up and leaping just as the microwave exploded. Glass and semi cooked food flew across the kitchen, the smell of smoke strong as the inside of the microwave sizzled. A small flame remained within.

Bakugou blinked, then he looked over Eri. Besides looking utterly shocked, she didn’t have any wounds or burns. Nodding, he quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher, putting out the remains of the microwave. Once done, he grabbed a wooden spoon and batted out the plug. “There. Eri, are you okay?”

The girl seemed stunned, wide eyed and shaky. Bakugou kneeled before her, voice gentle. “Eri?”

“Erm…yeah. I’m okay.” She nodded, shaking out of her shock as she met his eye. “What about you?”

“Nothing broken here. Sorry I blew up dinner.” He laughed some, looking back at the mess. “Er…want pizza?”

~~~ “And that is that.” Bakugou huffed as he and Eri flopped into the couch, fairly exhausted. The kitchen was clean once more, and a box of pizza with only the crust remaining laid on the coffee table. In the background, a movie with talking fish carried on. Eri insisted it was a great movie. If he were being honest, she was right. “What a day. Sorry I kinda messed everything up, kid.”

“What do you mean? I had so much fun today!” She smiled up at him, sleepy. “We played pirates and sea monsters, you fixed Yuki, and we got to eat pizza and watch movies! I’m glad you came today, Kacchy.”

Bakugou grinned, something warm setting in his chest as she scooted closer to him, lying against his side. “I’m sure Mirio or Deku would have been better.”

“Maybe. But you’re great in your own way.” She yawned, huffing some before closing her eyes. “Thanks for being here, Kacchy…I appreciate it…”

“Eri?” He looked down to find her sleeping with a happy smile on her face. Chuckling, he petted back her hair away from her peaceful expression.

“Glad to be there for you kid.”

Thanks for reading!

[plounce]

y'shtola and urianger are suuuuch effective foils for each other, whenever i want to think about one i compare the other and i go Ohhhh and then i become The Comprehender. like for example, in shadowbringers, y'shtola goes to the nights blessed, far from more industrial society - a culture with deep and intricate spiritual beliefs that arose after the flood (an interpretation of light and dark that is a folk belief rather than the establishment's), along with a proximity to distantly ancient ruins for her explore. meanwhile urianger goes to the bookman's shelves, full of books from just before the flood from the established civilizations of the first, seeking to learn more from those more recent establishment scholars. which falls in line with y'shtola being a field agent while urianger stayed in the waking sands basement

y'shtola left behind established sources of knowledge to seek out her own - master matoya, distrustful and disdainful of the state authority that will not tell her the whole truth, goes to live in a far off cave. urianger does not - he tends to bend more easily to others' will (minfilia, the exarch, etc) (enabler! enabler!!). urianger has a character arc where he grows out of that, fully shrugging it off after the exarch's plans fail. in endwalker he's basically always out in the field instead of in sharlayan or at the rising stones - the most similar he is to his early self is electing to stay on the moon, which really reveals more about how he has learned to reach out and connect with others and extend compassion + understanding.

and it is really brought out in ultima thule, where y'shtola stands in defiance to an "authority" on truth and knowledge, declaring that she wants to discover knowledge on her own and for herself, and urianger's sacrifice is all about how supportive he is of his friends. i cry.

yshtola doesn't have (/hasn't yet had...?) a character arc where she has to grow and change - she's extremely secure in herself. i think dawntrail, which seems to be all about forging ahead to new things, has potential for more stuff for her - here's hoping!

tl;dr the secret to understanding them is that they are caster dps vs healer

[eresia-catara]

heyy i was wondering if you heard this new hozier song "hymn to virgil" and what you think about it. it's supposed to be an alternate ending of the comedy where dante doesn't go on in his journey and stays with virgil (here's a better explanation from hozier himself)

It seems every time I log off tumblr I miss something unusual-

thanks for bringing it to my attention because I find it quite....interesting. From what Hozier said I gather he's never picked up the Commedia or at least (as usual, sigh) has not read beyond Inferno, seeing as he believes Virgil stopped in Hell? So the lyrics are technically necessarily screwed BUT. whenever a song fails to meet expectations and we have nothing to lose, the question is: can we bend the lyrics to make them work?

The first verse is acceptable because Dante did hold Virgil in high esteem and he was distraught when Virgil disappeared (totally not thinking of Virgil-Guido overlap as I write btw). So what he says about gold and Virgil's lips turning blue is all fine.

Then we have the pre-chorus: I would burn the world to bring some heat to you. Maybe it's a bit extreme for Dante, but if we make the traditional association faith=divine knowledge=sun=light=heat, then Dante is saying he would do anything to give faith to Virgil and save him from Limbo, to stay in his company. In this perspective, the action of burning the world can be interpreted as burning everything that deceived him in life — the premature times, the geographical place — and made him lose his salvation, and gathering from that action the heat, the faith.

The chorus is a bit tricky. Dante's journey was for himself, he got scared of the situation he was in in the woods and wanted to reach Beatrice. However, what convinced him was also the authority of and reverence for Virgil, and during the journey it was him who encouraged him in the various moments of fear and dejection. So "you are the reason I went through it" can stay. "The only meaning as I knew it": if we make a stretch, Dante was not exactly fully aware of his destiny and its meaning, seeing as it's Beatrice who will give him a full picture, which means during Inferno and Purgatorio Virgil was the only present figure who could attribute meaning to what they were doing, he was the only fixed point to whom he could turn to, Virgil "contained" within himself the meaning, and it's only with time that Dante learns he has to be able to go on without his authority. "And I can only do my best, I do not do this for myself/ I'd walk though hell on living feet for you": this can easily find meaning in all the moments in Inferno Dante wanted to stop, turn back etc and Virgil had to enourage him.

Finally, the second verse. The first two lines seem like a reference to the episode of the doors of Dis being closed in front of them, and Dante wouldn't dare go if Virgil himself was shut out so all's fine and dandy. The same goes for the other two lines, Dante does ask Virgil (I can't remember where exactly) if he'll ever be able to get out of Limbo, revealing that he hopes he will someday, so these lines are him contemplating Virgil's sad fate, wishing things were different.

Conclusion: in my mind I can make it work not as Dante wanting to stay but as him wanting to pull Virgil with him, the music is nice (except the chorus, in my humble opinion...), thus

I think it passes the vibe check ✅

[im-not-even-sorry]

hiiii I'm the same anon who sent you that ask about health/ mobility issues a couple of days ago!! I wanted to send you another ask the same day, telling you all about my latest health/mobility issues, but I kind of passed out while typing up that ask because I ate too much 👀😬

anyways, I still wanted to share some of the health things I recently noticed/ developed 😇

I am still on the smaller side for a feedee, I'm currently 107kg (236ish lbs) on 176cm (5'9"). and until last week I always thought that my mobility/ stamina hadn't changed much, because I still walk a lot, so I just. assumed I was still pretty fit. but last week I had to go up about three flights of stairs and omg I was so out of breath!! and my knees hurt??? it was honestly pretty shocking! I had to go to the same place again today and I just took the lift 🙈

I'm also starting to have a pretty hard time bending over, my gut is getting in the way a lot... and whenever I do have to pick something up etc. I am making so much noise now, like groaning from the effort? kind of embarrassing to sound like that as a 27 year old, ngl 👀🥵

my belly is also making it harder and harder to reach my sink to do the dishes, so I started putting my belly on my countertop whenever I do dishes 🙈

and one of the biggest things- it's starting to get hard to get up after eating 🙈 like I'm physically too weak to heave my body up after stuffing myself. it usually takes a couple of attempts and some honest to god effort to just. get up from my couch 🥴🥴

as for what I'm hoping to experience in the future- I love feeling my fat impact my mobility. all the small changes I have to make in my day to day life are so so so hot to me and I'm looking forward to more things getting more difficult!! somewhere down the road I'd also like to get way more out of shape / loose more of my stamina, but currently I need to do too much walking around for that to be practical... I'm scared of the more serious health issues and don't necessarily want to experience them, but loss of mobility is super super hot and I'm looking forward to getting less fit everyday 🥰

(also your answer to my last ask was so hot, thank you 😈🥰)

Oh ah, falling into a food coma is probably the best and hottest excuse I've ever heard 🫣

You may be a "smaller feedee", but dear, you're still clinically obese. How does that sound?

What can i say? I hope the cycle of

gains weight -> stairs, running, getting up, xyz becomes a struggle -> stops doing that -> moves even less -> gains weight

keeps on going 😇

Only 27 years years old, and you're already giving up your mobility for utter gluttony, delightful. It's such a waste of opportunity there's no one there (I assume?) to aid you when you're too stuffed to get up.

I don't mean they should help you up, no. I mean, there's no one there to surround you with even more food and/or encourage you to keep on going when you think you're at your limit. You're not.

You juuuuuust need a helping hand. Am I right?

A helping hand to make sure you keep ballooning at a rate the next time you see stairs you'll be sweaty and out of breath just looking at them. Gut so big it weighs on your poor weak lumbar spine. Body so heavy your knee joints and leg muscles struggle to hold you up...

Is that something you'd like?

[wishingforatypewriter]

For Linzolt please and I hope you’re having a good day

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

Hi!!! Thanks for the ask!

Zolt, definitely, but Lin would have to be tap dancing on his last nerve for him to reach that point. Lin would never allow herself to get that vulnerable during an argument.

My headcanon is actually that they both struggled with nightmares in the aftermath of Amon's revolution. At first, Lin would always leave right after they slept together because she didn't want him to know about her nightmares, but eventually they started spending the night together. When Zolt found out, he started keeping a smooth lava stone on his bedside table. Whenever she woke up crying, he would pull her into his arms and close her hands around the stone, reminding her that she had her bending back. And when Zolt had his nightmares, Lin would brew him the calming tea Katara had given her back in the South Pole and stay up to talk with him until he fell asleep again.

Zolt has the plushest bathrobes, and Lin routinely steals them for her own enjoyment. Eventually, he buys her one of her own—monogrammed, and in her colors, of course.

Although they both feel quite protective over each other, they have learned over time that it's best not to act on it (or even talk about it, really). What I will say, though, is that Lin is deeply uneasy about the idea of triad rivals coming after Zolt, even in his retirement. She does not believe that all of them adhere to the same 'honor among thieves' philosophy that he does, and she's constantly watching his back even if he won't do it himself.

Otp Asks