#anyways please crush me with your thighs as a mercy kill

[bigcatbulges]

Source - Highpups

(Artist's Patreon)

[cower-before-power]

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon.  “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles.  “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey​ @chaotic-nick​ @manjiroarchiviste​

[thithesandofferings]

Shopping with Raian

Raian x Reader 

TW 18+ MDI

Jealousy sex, dirty talk, Raian...being Raian, terrible food puns- please read at your discretion. semi-public sex- heavy petting.

Normally a shopping trip would be one of the highlights of your weeks but this time has been one of the most draining trips you've ever taken. Raian had been wanting you to help him with his new diet for sometime now so all that was left was to get the proper foods.

"I really dont understand why i HAVE to be here when you get the shit!...you know what to get right?"

"The reason you're here is because everytime i restock your fridge with health foods you dont EAT them. They go bad or ohma comes over and eats em for you-"

"...how'd you-"

"YES I KNOW"

"Ohma that fucking niko style bitch...can't wait to crush him this match"

"Not with your current diet you won't"

"And whats wrong with my-" You stopped suddenly and faced him, admittedly on your tip toes but not the point right now.

"Dont you DARE call the slop you eat on a daily...healthy" you glared at him. "Its nothing but junk, sugars and protein. I understand you're literally part demon but you need to take better care of your health sooner or later"

"Y-yeah thats all i need...come on dont-the demon in me got this kitty" he backed back from your threatening gaze. You let out an exasperated sigh and continued on with the shopping, leaving Raian with a confused look on his face.

You were moving to the next aisle when suddenly a hand tapped your shoulder. "...yes Raian- oh..hello"

"Um hello, sorry for bothering you but i was just wondering if you can point me in the direction of the olives" the strange man asked.

"Oh i believe thats two aisles down" you pointed.

"Ah ok. Thank you."

"You're welcome" you said turning on your heels to continue down your aisle

"..i mean ive been lost for a hot minute" he continued

"Oh" you faked a laughed and then attempted to walk away again.

"Its for this new recipe i saw online...yeah its main ingredient is olive so...you can't have it without the olives. The main star am i right?" He laughed "Y..yeah...yeah you're right. Anyways good luck with your dish"

"Oh i should probably let you go huh. Sorry for talking up olive your time" he laughed again 'Oh lord please save me' you cried internally. And just as he was about to open his mouth another time he stopped just as suddenly. His whole face went pale and mouth gaped open. Come to think of it the aisle also got darker...

"Oi!" a loud voice boomed from the back of you 'RAIAN..THANK GOODNESS. Well he's not an angel but still'

You turned around only to be met with eyes darker than the night sky, he was practically steaming...oh shit he's pissed...

"Now...i know shes too nice to say it to you but me? I dont give a fuck! So how about you and your lame ass, corny ass puns get to your olives olive boy. Cause im feeling very eggcited to beat your fucking ass right now!"

He gripped the trolley in the front of you, maybe a little to tightly, bending the metal as if it was silicone.

"YE-S SiR..SORRY SIR!!" And with that he ran off

"Wooow that guy almost pissed himself. Im surprised you actually held back, the last guy you almost punched him across the road" you laughed.

"I honestly tried to leave but goodness he just wouldnt-" Your words were suddenly cut off by Raian lips covering yours. He dragged you closer as his tongue dominated your mouth. His grip tightened as he bit down on your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into the kiss.

"-shut up" he snarled His hand slowly slid downwards cupping one of your ass cheeks completely and squeezing almost to the point of pain. With Raian everything was almost pain inducing but oh was that pain sweeter than anything else.

The way his hands moved along your body as if it was made for him and however he saw it fit to be used. Used. Thats what your purpose was in moments like these. When he kisses you breathless, when he pushes out those lewd reactions out of your body, the way he can easily have you twisting and turning...eagerly awaiting any further ministrations from his hands...or mouth...or tongue...or-.

You felt your back firmly pressed against the shelves now and as his knee parted your thighs and rubbed up against your now wet panties. His thighs...those muscular thighs... thighs that destroyed faces, broke teeth, drew blood and took the wind out of people. Yet here you are just wanting to straddle the deadly appendage and just ride it until you climaxed....which felt pretty soon alREADY!!

A wonton moan escaped your mouth once he broke the kiss. Before you knew it, you were literally dry(well not so dry) humping his thigh, your wet heat begging for friction or movement.

"Always so eager for me huh...so eager for what i wanna do to you...to this body.." he growled in your ear.

You were at the mercy of this man...this demon. Right where he wants you... "Who do you belong to?...answer me now! Tell me who this fucking wet pussy belongs to"

"...mmmm..i..it...b-you" He slides a hand in the front of him and rubs along the dampened spot between your legs.

"Mmmmmm and who made you so wet kitty? Your pants is basically soaked... have you no shame? Hm?....humping my thigh like a bitch in heat...i should fucking take you now... right in this aisle. Somebody could walk in on our little scene any moment now...you're lucky i dont want no one else seeing this fucked out expression on your face right now."

And just as suddenly he removed himself, almost causing you to fall over. Your legs was jelly, your pants was literally soaked and who the fuck knows if people didnt walk pass your little scenario just now.

"Ahhhhh just kill me now...what if someone sawwww....i...i should just melt into the ground.. please..."

"Come on lets go, as soon as were done here i'll help you with that little....problem"

"A PROBLEM YOU CAUSED" He simply shrugged

"Not my fault that slim dick was trying to talk to something of mines....you know i dont take sharing very well" he smirked.

-Krissy

[corruptedconfessions]

Yandere!Barbarian!Bakugo x reader

Barbarian!Bakugo Restraints - “Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

 I changed the prompt to be gender neutral along with the rest of the fic!

If anyone wants to send in more Barbarian Bakugo prompts or requests I would love that. Or ask for a pt 2 smut sequel where he fucks you for the first time k thankksss

Also just to cover all the bases, I don’t mention the readers size, but Barbarian Bakugo is b I g. Like fat gum big but with muscles. Tall thicc man, could probably lift a house (jk...unless?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had all started with a flower.

Well, it wasn’t quite that simple. But the flower stuck out to you. You had been out in the woods, searching for an herb that you needed. As the village healer you tried to keep a high stock of the basics you needed at all times, and the spring this year had brought a round of illness through the village, so your fever suppressing herbs were running low. Which was how you ran across…him.

He had nearly scared you to death, slumped against a tree, a large gash crossing his entire chest, bleeding out sluggishly onto the forest flooring. You were shocked and frightened by his size, he was well over six feet, built like a warrior, all hard edges and muscle. Still, your kind heart gave you no choice other than to stop to help.

“Are you…okay?”

You hesitantly reached out for him, flinching back when his head suddenly snapped up, crimson eyes meeting yours as his face curled into an ugly snarl.

“Do I fucking look okay?”

He moved, almost as if he was going to lunge at you, only to wince collapsing back against the tree when that opened the wounds that had just started to clot shut. Even more red splattered to the ground, matching his eyes as he gave pained ragged gasps.

“You shouldn’t move, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He glared at you even more, giving you a look that just screamed ‘no shit’, you supposed it was a little pointless to say that now, but still.

“Here…let me help.”

You ignored the angered snarls that were aimed at you as you moved closer. He couldn’t do much other than glare at you, and both of you knew it, emboldened by this you stepped closer, eyes scanning over his injuries.

“...I can help you with this.”

His gaze sharpened on you, drifting briefly down to your basket that held the herbs and flowers you had been collecting before focusing back on you.

“The fuck do you mean? I don’t need your shitty help you-”

He cried out collapsing in pain when you pushed against the wound on his chest, raising an eyebrow at him as you did so.

“You were saying?”

He growled gritting his teeth as he glared you down. Oh if looks could kill~

“Tch. Whatever. Do whatever you want, peasant.”

You scowled slightly at him but brushed off the insult, chalking it up to the man probably being scared and in a lot of pain, even if he did put on this tough guy act.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

You spent the entire day tending to the man, running out into the forest and grabbing plants and herbs to help heal him. You carefully made salve for his wounds, tore your own clothes for clothes to wipe him down and wrap him up in. You cleaned his wounds, dressed them, and bandaged them tight. You even gave him plants to chew on to help with the pain, something he took eagerly even if he did bite your thumb.

He was near unconscious by the time you were done, eyes hazy and glazed over. Still he was no longer wincing in pain and as you wiped at his chest it came away clean, showing that the bleeding had stopped. The wounds were still nasty but at least they were properly cleaned and dressed now.

“I’m all finished.”

You sat back, taking in his form, now bathed in the soft beams of the sunset. He almost looked cute like this, rested against the tree, hair glowing and face soft. It reminded you of…

You paused turning slightly to pull a flower out of your basket of herbs-A bright red lily to be exact. You smiled gently at him as you tucked it into his hair, just above his ear.

He snarled at you, snapping his teeth menacingly and causing you to flinch back, but the flower stayed. You couldn’t help but continue smiling gently down at him as you stepped back, meeting his gaze as he glowered at you, a soft pink dusting his cheeks.

Your hands still shook slightly in fright but you couldn’t help but compare his fit to that of a cornered cat. Small, helpless, and yet you always ended up being scratched.

If only you knew how sharp his claws really were then and there. If only you had turned around and left him to bleed out instead of helping him, giving him a fighting chance of surviving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

Fire rained down around you, bits of flaming rooftops rained down around you as you ran through the streets of your once peaceful village.

Barbarians. They had swooped in in the dead of night, their war cries piercing the peaceful silence of your village. There was no warning, no mercy, just fire and death.

You dodged the bodies of the people you had grown up with, the people you had loved. You wanted to cry, wanted to mourn, but you needed to keep running, to survive even if they couldn’t. You had gotten lucky, you had managed to hide, undetected as the warriors stormed through your part of the village, and now you needed to run before they came back.

But your luck had already run out.

You had run blindly through the streets, smoke burning your eyes and blurring your vision. You were so focused on the tree line, your only chance of escape that you didn’t even notice the hulking figure standing in the middle of the road, backed turned to you until you quite literally barreled right into him. You grunted as you fell back onto your butt, staring up at the blonde with wide shocked eyes as he turned around. Anger and irritation was on his face until he saw you, a disgusting twisted grin making its place on his blood covered face as he stared down at your trembling form, you stared right back, eyes wide.

It was that man. The man from the woods all those weeks ago. What was he doing here? Was he…was he part of this invasion? Your blood ran cold as he grinned, a cruel sharp grin. His cape blew behind him in the wind, and your eyes couldn’t help but immediately lock onto the decoration hanging from his sword holder.

It was your flower. The flower you had given him. Dried and preserved, pressed between wax and tied to his sword’s sheath. His grin widened when he noticed what you were looking at, his chest puffing out as he stepped closer to you.

“It’s about fucking time. Hows my little bitch doing? You sure made it hard for us to find you~”

You yelped as he leaned down, roughly grabbing your arm as he hauled you off the ground, pulling you against his chest as the arm that wasn’t nearly crushing your wrist wrapped around your waist. You nearly threw up as you were pressed against him, the blood on his chest smearing across your cheek. He smelled like blood, fire, death. The stench strong enough your stomach rolled.

“L-let go of me-!”

Once you were snapped out of your stupor you immediately started hitting feebly at his chest, trying to pull your poor abused wrist from his grasp as you squirmed. Nothing worked, it was like the man was built out of stone, you were unable to move even an inch in his grip and hitting at his chest felt like punching stone. All it did was make him laugh cruelly down at you as he leaned down slightly, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Feisty~ I like that.”

He smacked your ass, grinning and laughing that cruel cackle again when you yelped, jerking in his grip. You squirmed on his shoulder but all that got you was a pinch to your ass and a rough order to hold still as he walked off with you. It was like you weighed nothing to him, he held you up with one arm, you could see from where your head hung upsidedown the muscles in his back rippling as he shifted you.

You were forced to stay limp over his shoulder as he carried you all the way across the village, any squirming or attempts to fight led to pinches to your ass and thighs, hard enough you were sure to be littered with sensitive bruises come morning.

Just as you were starting to get dizzy from the blood rushing to your head you were suddenly pulled off of his shoulder, thrown onto a horse, your captor immediately joining you. A muscled arm wrapped around you, pulling you back to his chest as he yelled out another war cry. You could feel the eyes of other barbarians on you as they joined his cry of victory. You couldn’t help but shake as your ears rang from the noise as it finally hit you as he snapped the stirrups of the horse, propelling the both of you forward. He wasn’t going to kill you, he was going to keep you. Or at the very least take you back to his camp to tear apart before discarding. You couldn’t let that happen! You started squirming again in his hold, tears starting to stream down your face as you shoved at his bloodied chest, hysterical and frightened. The arm that was wrapped around you quickly moved, his hand snapping up to grip your chin tight enough you swore you could hear your teeth cracking under the pressure. Red eyes, bloody red eyes stared down at you as he smirked cruelly, dragging his tongue over his canines as he stared down into your eyes.

“Be a good mate and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

You whimpered weakly, trying your best to shake your head in his grip. He held you there for a moment, making you stare into his blood thirsty eyes, something in your gut told you he was hoping you’d fight back, keep disobeying so he would have an excuse to hurt you. You didn’t give him one.

It seemed to please him anyway as he let go of your chin with an amused chuckle, the tight hold pressing you against him immediately returning as he kept riding off into the woods, his pack of blood covered barbarians following after him.

If only you hadn’t given him that flower.

[diaco1968]

Payback is as cold as steel

Mini nsfw stories where you take your revenge on the boys (Bakugou, Izuku, Todoroki and Shinsou), for this

WARNING! nsfw, smut, a bunch of kinks like biting, orgasm denial, overstimulation.

Everyone is aged up and are adults.

Bakugou Katsuki

How did he manage to land in this mess? Agreeing to wear this stupid quirk nullifying collar to be on fair grounds with you for physical training, like a total idiot. You had fooled him.

His arms ached from being stretched over the chair and tied up behind his back by nothing other than his own belt. His neck and shoulders were wet and stinging, littered by your little bitemarks, red and purple.

Panting and sweaty as a string of muffled swears and threats left his lips, from his 5th denied orgasm when your hips stopped moving over the bulge in his undone jeans once again.

"Looks like the biting and barking roles are reversed, Katsu. Are you ready to say it now?"

He glared up at you as you looked down on him affectionately with your smug smile, running your fingers through his hair, almost soothingly. As if he'd believe your false sweet demeanor. Mean little demon, you.

Your fingers undid the muzzle behind his head and let it fall off his mouth and chin, around his neck and onto his chest, him taking in a deep unfiltered gulp of fresh air.

"Well?"

He bucked his hips up into yours but you didn't budge at all, moaning playfully and rolling your hips onto his teasingly, knowing his latest orgasm was too far gone already for him to be able to chase it like that. That only added fuel to his fiery rage, even if there was a chance he was going to open his mouth to beg, it was gone now.

"I'm gonna get my hands on you eventually, (y/n), and when I do, I'll make sure that by the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk straight for a month."

The somehow none yelling calm way in which he said it actually shook you to your already dripping core. But it was too late to back down now anyway.

"Wrong answer." You rolled your eyes and put the muzzle back over his mouth, strapping it tightly behind his head. He hissed and growled as you leaned in scraping your teeth over his neck, hips beginning to move, grinding over him roughly, before suddenly sinking your teeth into his shoulder, hearing the sound of his sharp inhale from between the little gaps of the muzzle.

Shoto Todoroki

At that moment, he should've known. The look of utter betrayal was what was written all over his mostly expressionless face as he watched the plot unfold in front of his eyes, the moment your fingers wrapped around his tie delicately, undoing it, very slowly pulling it off of him, letting it slide around his neck softly.

Then you didn't discard it like you usually would. Pure mischief flashing behind shiny (e/c) eyes as you straddled his kness tightly smirking down at him, while he was absolutely helpless in his position on the bed, half sitting, back leaning on the headboard, his hands cuffed up aboved his head keeping him up right.

How many times has it been already? You edging him on till he was more than ready to cum, but couldn't and then you stopping to let him cool off a bit. He hadn't bothered to keep count, hoping his negotiation with you would work each and every time, but as he glared at you panting and sweating and gritting his teeth it was obvious you had other plans.

"What is it Shoto? You want something?"

You hummed dragging your thumb over his slit, smearing the precum around, his shaft throbbing under your touch, an angry red and ready to explode at any time. Only if the tie wasn't wrapped around the base so tightly as a makeshift cock ring.

In yet another futile attempt to reach you, he jerked his arms forward, the metal of the cuffs clinking and the headboard creaked before hitting back on the wall with a loud bang. "Fucking hell..." he hissed as you laughed and grabbed his cock again and started stroking it "these quirk cancelling cuffs are pretty amazing, huh?" His negotiation patience flew out the window as he resorted to threats "when I get out of these cuffs, I'm going to hold you down and fuck the shit out of you, till you can't form a single coherent thought, (y/n)." He growled out and you only grinned at him, a shiver running down your spine knowing he would hold true to his words, you leaned in whispering right into his ear in a breathy voice "If you get out of them Sho~" you tightened the tie around your wrist and pulled it a little tighter.

He let his head drop back in between his stretched up arms on the headboard, glaring at the ceiling before shutting his eyes tight and moaning when you resumed your onslaught on his poor overstimulated cock, bucking his hips involuntarily into your touch.

Izuku Midoriya

The moment he stepped in through the doors, you had pulled him inside by his collar and shut the door, slamming him back into the wall.

The way his green eyes turned wide with worry before he realised what was going on when you crashed your lips onto his, added to your desire to mess him up even more.

He looked relieved only for a second, before his expression twisted into a knowing one as you slapped his hand away harshly when he reached out to hold your hips. He whimpered at the sting of your teeth on his lower lip as you bit and tugged on it when you pulled back from the kiss, your hand reaching down and cupping his dick through his pants roughly, him letting out a surprised mewl.

"You will be touching what I tell you, when I tell you  to. Got it, hero?"

He looked at you through half lidded eyes, pupils dilated, already breathless and panting for air "But!-" you gripped his jaw with your free hand forcing him to be quiet "you're going to be a good boy for me, Deku, right?"

He watched you and your eyes intently for a few seconds before nodding his head. That was a couple of hours ago. Now he was leaning back full weight on the wall behind him, dishelved and a hot mess, with your lips wrapped around his cock, sucking his soul out, again and again with no break.

His thighs quivering and legs were shaking, barely able to hold himself up, his head dropping back and hitting the wall with a soft thud as he let out a high pitched exhale that turned into a long loud moan, his hands turning into fists on the wall behind him , knuckles turning white as he came again with nothing coming out, dry as they come.

"Shit! P-please (y/n)! I c-can't anymore... please!" He begged once again almost sobbing from the intense pleasure as he looked down at you for mercy, with you enjoying the number 1 hero, Deku, turning into a loud begging moaning mess under your touch.

Shinsou Hitoshi

Your silence was killing him, crushing his hopes with every passing moment and every time your evil grin faded from his watery vision due to the intense pleasure. Before it all got ripped away from him before he could grasp his now much desired release. "Ah! Fuck! Come on!" He whined and groaned as he tried catching his breath, defeatedly looking at the ceiling before his eyes snapped back on your grin and your unusually quiet chuckle.

Why would you not slip and make a sound in his reply!

It had been a simple request he would have never thought to result in this outcome of all things;

"Hitoshi? Can you do me a favour?" You had kindly hugged him from behind and was now playfully tugging on his arms, to make him turn around, he assumed.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Keep your eyes on mine to the end and it will all be over."

You had said just as you pulled both his arms behind his back, tying them tight and pushing him back on the bed.

That was the last thing he heard you say.

No matter how he prodded at your pride, your conscience, your logic. You wouldn't budge to reply to him, as you gave him a sweet smile while placing the little vibrating buds on his cock securely before walking away, swaying your hips as you showed him the controller between your thumb and forefinger.

"That's a coward move you're pulling, kitten. Never took you for a- Gah!"

You turned the vibrator on, straight on it's highest setting, shrughing your shoulders and smiling at him innocently when he glared at you.

That was an hour and quite a few denied orgasms ago. The thought made him huff out loud.

"You will regret-Ngh! I'm sorry!"

He whimpered as the buzzing sound filled his ears again. He had forgotten threatening was no way to go. It was a simple request; He would have to keep his eyes open and keep them on yours the whole time. He had never thought eye contact with you would be such a hard task to complete.

[breanime]

Bre’s Boys Preference: Apocalypse Edition

Billy Russo: Billy makes sure he is rich in whatever currency is being used: oil, water, food, weapons--whatever is lacking in the world, Billy makes sure he has in excess. He sets himself up as a necessity for everyone else, making him a key player in any end of the world scenario. Billy has no mercy or sympathy for others...but he has a soft spot for you. You’re not particularly useful or essential, but he likes having you around. He likes being the one to provide for you and protect you, and if anyone threatens you, Billy makes sure to wipe them out--no hesitation. 

Logan Delos: Logan’s wealth put a target on his back as soon as the apocalypse really got going. He ended up joining a rebel group who had first taken him for ransoming purposes, but they liked his charm and wit. So Logan became their mouth piece and the face of their campaign, helping them grow in power and becoming a central part of their operation. He gets to be a modern day cowboy, and when he meets you, another rebel, he falls for you hard. And just like that, he has something real, something concrete to care about at the end of the world. 

Jax Teller: The Sons were uniquely prepared for the apocalypse, so they pretty much just keep doing what they’ve been doing--it’s easier, actually, since there are no laws to skirt around anymore. Jax ends up being the King of Charming, turning it into a bustling town where they traded with travelers. The Sons ran it, and if anyone broke their rules or disrespected them in anyway, Jax would kill them where they stood. When you come to town, you and Jax hook up immediately, and he’s hooked. You become his rock, and whenever he starts to question himself or feel like he’s turning into Clay or his dad, you’re there to ground him. 

Coco Cruz: Coco was a wanderer for a while. He hit the road, armed with his guns, knives, and bike, until he crossed paths with the Mayans again. Once he joined back up with his crew, he ended up finding Letty. He went on a kind of killing spree because of some of the things she told him, but once that was done, his priorities were pretty much surviving and making sure his homies/daughter survived... But then you stumbled into town, covered in dirt and paranoid as hell... and Coco felt something shift in his chest. He found himself up with you, looking at the sky as the two of you kept watch. It was a slow courtship for both of you, but once you were officially together, you became one of the few people Coco cared about. 

Angel Reyes: Angel and EZ did runs for Miguel, and it was on one of those runs that they found you. They brought you back to town, and they made sure you were safe. Angel felt protective of you from the get-go, making sure no one messed with you and taking time to teach you how to use a gun and defend yourself. Eventually you end up in bed together, and once that happens, Angel is sprung. He doesn’t like when you’re not with him, and you actually start going with him and EZ on their runs, holding onto him as you ride on the back of his motorcycle. 

Miguel Galindo: Miguel was prepared for the apocalypse because he’s rich and was warned beforehand. He had everything he needed, supplies and weapons and everything else, Miguel is set to be the freaking King. He’s sitting pretty, well protected, well supplied, and well armed, when you come into his life. He hires you, paying you in supplies and shelter, but the more he gets to know you, the more he wants you at his side. So he makes you his personal guard alongside with Nestor, and you guard him at night...which ends up with you in his bed, and Miguel fires you that same night. “You’re more than just security,” he says, kissing you, his mouth warm and soft, “you’re mine now, amor.”

Nick Amaro: Nick tries to keep order once the world ends, but everything is so chaotic and wild, he ends up having to get his hands dirty to protect people...which is how he meet you. You were being robbed of the few items you had, and Nick saved you. He invited you to travel with his group: Olivia, Fin, Munch, Rollins, Carisi, and Nick’s young daughter, and you accept. You and Nick become fast friends, and then lovers, and then you become one of the most important people in his life, and if you’re ever in any danger, Nick is quick to get his hands dirty again. 

Johnny Tuturro: I’mma keep it simple: Johnny is a War Boy. He was born and raised in the apocalypse, told that the greatest glory is to die epic in battle, and he believes that wholeheartedly. So when he crosses paths with you, Johnny is shocked at how quickly and easily you change his whole world with your pretty eyes and soft laugh. Suddenly he’s putting down his guns so he can hold you close, and the only time he wants to do violence is when he’s protecting you. Johnny learns, from your love, that he’s more than just a weapon, and the two of you take off on your own journey. He teaches you how to defend yourself, and you teach him how to plant trees and fish. He never leaves your side, and at night, he cuddles up with you and kisses your forehead until you fall asleep. 

Rio: Rio is a freaking Kingpin. He’s somewhere between Billy and Miguel--he has his own empire, but he gets his hands dirty with no qualms about it at all. He has a literal throne, which is what he’s sitting on when he first meets you. Mick had caught you trying to run off with a sack full of supplies, and Rio was instantly impressed. You didn’t cower or apologize, you just glared up at him and told him all the problems with his security system... So he decided to let you pay off your debt by working with him. And that ended up with his head between your thighs late one night... so it was a win-win for him. Rio made you his Queen, gave you a throne right next to his, and whenever decisions needed to be made, he’d turn to you, his dark eyes shining with love and respect. “What do you think, mama?”

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

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! I love doing these AU things!

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[the-tragic-hero-and-you]

So Dark is basically Damien and Celine, right? And Y/N was a close friend of Damien’s when he was his own person, right?? And since Dark is trying to hurt Mark in anyway possible, what if: Dark is about to cause a fatal injury to Y/N, say, with an axe, and just stops, because of Damien. Y/N was a close friend of his, and I would feel like he would remember and either hesitate, or try and stop the attempt all together, and Y/N can just see the inner turmoil happen in front of them

He was more careful this go around, selecting the right moment to steal you away before Mark knew you were gone. The demon waited for mark to drift into a deep sleep, you yourself barely nodding off. He caught you completely off guard, leaving you no time to respond or call for help the moment your view shifted and distorted into a nightmare. . .

He wasn’t going to take any chances this time.

Before you knew it, you were in the woods, the moon barely keeping through the thick clouds and tall trees that reached to the sky.Where you were became the least of your worries as you saw a dark figure approaching you, ax in hand with a blood lust look in his eyes.“Finally, you and I get to have a little alone time. . .” He muttered, the mixture between excitement and rage in his tone as he drew closer.This wasn’t good.You tried to run away from your attacker, your shattered ruminant of an old friend, but he was too quick, already getting a few good cuts into your body. Trying to hide was not an option as the blood trail you left always gave away your position. You couldn’t climb any tree due to the nasty gash in your arm. Lastly you could no longer run as you felt the blade lop into your thigh, causing you to fall among the leaves and dead twigs.Crawling away seemed pointless as you heard him approach, yanking the ax from your leg before kneeling over to roll you onto your back.A twisted smile curled on him lips as he gazed down on you, tilting his head to the side as he trailed his blood coated finger tips along your cheek, almost as though he was doting your helpless state.His touch was so cold, nearly feeling like ice against your skin to a point it nearly burned.“Shh. . . Don’t fidget, little insect.” He spoke in a hush tone, clutching the blade in his hand. It’s not like you could move any way as he pinned you down to the forest floor, feeling completely paralyzed he he gazed into your eyes.Your heart pounded loudly in your chest as you waited for the killing blow, your eyes not straying once from the demon as he raised his weapon of choice over his head unable to beg for mercy or cry for help.

There was a pause, a hush. Almost as if time stood still. But it didn’t. Before your eyes you watch as the demon seemed to hesitate for a moment, his grip around the handle of the ax tightening but not once lowering to deliver the final blow. Eventually he lowered his arm, not entirely but certainly was no longer in the position to strike, his intense gaze seemed to soften as he glanced to the side for a moment, muttering something to himself. The hesitation and second thoughts seemed to infuriate the demon, not towards you but more towards himself as he cursed under his breath. “Stop. Fighting!” He hissed between clutched teeth, his hand that cupped your cheek finally withdrawing from you to grip his head with frustration, the internal struggle becoming too much for himYou tried to take this opportunity to move, just barely worming your way out from beneath him. He instantly took notice, evidently not at all pleased with your attempt to escape as he gripped onto your throat with both hands, dropping the ax in the process. “YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE ME AGAIN!” He yelled out, his grip firm, but it wasn’t enough to crush your air way.You held onto his hands, not in an attempt to stop him, but an effort to get through to the man beyond this shattered form. He was still in there, no matter how broken he had become, no matter how little of himself he was now, Damien was still in there.He didn’t respond to your touch, being too caught up with the back and forth that was going on inside his mind, the desire to get revenge but the morality to spare you was becoming too much. His percents was becoming unstable, phasing in and out with hues of blue and red, shifting from different expressions, yelling, muttering, screaming. He couldn’t even control himself anymore as he let go of your throat, gripping onto his head as though the indecisiveness of your fate was driving him mad.You didn’t attempt to escape this time, instead you did your best to sit up despite your injuries. Carefully you brought your hand forward, waiting for a moment before gently placing your hand against his cheek. It felt warm, barely noticing the tears that were trailing from his eyes.He stopped for a moment, taking in a trembling breath as he felt your touch.Whatever internal struggle was battling inside of him, it subsided for a moment as he placed his hand over yours, appearing so touched started as he nuzzled into your palm.He went quiet for a moment, holding back a sob as he finally turned his gaze towards you once more. Those eyes, those were not the eyes of a demon or broken spirit, it was the eyes of an old friend, friend you lost so long ago.“. . . I’m so sorry, y/n.” He whispered in a cracked voice, a voice that was his own and not under any darkened influence.It was Damien.The old mayor began to break down, unable to hold back the tears. Leaning forward you wrapped your arms around him the best you could as the man crumbled, holding onto you tightly as he burst into tears.

How you wanted to hold him dearly, cradling the dear friend you have lost so long ago. But the loss of blood was already making this impossible for you, your hold was weak and slipping.Damien took notice of this, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck as thought treasuring this last moment.“It’s not fair. . .I just got you back. . .”He held you tightly before pulling away a little, just enough to gaze upon you with his eyes once last time.“Next time, I won’t be able to save you. . . Forgive me.”Despite how cold and drained you felt, there was no mistaking the tender warmth of his lips as he gently kissed you. Such a gentle gesture made you forget the open gashes through out your body or where you even where.But just was sudden as you were taken away, you were back, feeling yourself laying on the carpet of the manor once more.You could barely move as the pain injuries you sustained returned full force, finally being able to call out for help. Of course Mark was there in seconds, not hesitating to hold you as he called for an ambulance while trying not to panic. 

You were in the hospital for a good while, Mark rarely leaving your side the entire time. Not once did he ask who did it. You had a pretty good idea he already knew who was responsible for injuring you in such a way, and clearly the actor wasn’t at all happy about. Explains his paranoia for leaving you alone.

Still, you held onto the hope that maybe, maybe there was a way to have Damien back fully. . .The feeling of his kiss never left your lips.

[bouldershima]

alright listen,, i gotta say sumn and ya’ll are gonna have to accept it i don’t make the rules

thigh men aren’t to be confused with ass men okay, these men specifically will absolutely lose their minds if you got a lil jiggle to your walk

so to the thick and chubby queens, we eating well tonight 😌💅🏽

warning: suggestive content, mentions of impact play (bakugo), uhhhh borderline nsfw but not quite

Top 3: Thigh Lovers

BNHA

Mirio

Bakugo

Kirishima

Honorable Mention (HM): Aizawa

Haikyuu!!

Bokuto

Nishinoya

Aone

Honorable Mention (HM) : Daichi

Mirio

aha so here we go sunshines

even when he was a 3rd year at U.A., mans was strong n buff

and like periodt because he worked hard to achieve his goals and make with what he had

so even as an adult, he is a whole man and a half

which is only a benefit since mirio is 100% a flirt, no critisim will be accepted

and boy does he love making you flustered 😃

at any given wake of day, he can and he will elict a reaction out of you

wait this is about thighs, hold on

okay so his lap is honestly your throne, it is what it is

he really loves how plush they are and he will squeeze them without warning

he just loves a handful of thigh whenever possible

we all know he’s very direct as well, so if he wants something from you, he will ask for it no hesitation

his face is definitely your throne as well

when you cuddle, thighs resting on his waist is a non-negotiable requirement

and if you just have one of those days where you’re feeling a little less than yourself?

this king will reassure you and caress your thighs as he does so

and if your thighs are what’s causing your distress???????? girl

you’ll definitely feel somethings that night, you’ll feel better about yourself, the butterflies, and sumn else

Bakugo

total thigh guy, there is no room for discussion. some may say he’s an ass man, but we all know what the real truth is

like the ass jiggle is great and all

but do you realize just how powerful the thigh jiggle is?? a confident thigh jiggle at that???

listen, anything you do with this man, if you’re doing it confidently you’d literally have him at your command

and i know you know this

regardless, one of the main reasons why he loves him a pair of thiccqque thighs is because he’s totally into impact play oop

yeah, so he loves smacking them and watching them jiggle

quirk enhanced spanks, definetly a thing with him

or better yet, marking them up and leaving reminders of who you belong to

lemme stop myself right there

now he’s not into pda much, but will occasionally have his hand on your thigh when driving or like sitting close

would 100% keep a hand on your hips if he feels threatened (bakugo language translation: jealous)

or. if he’s extra pissed then he would definitely grab a big ol handful of thigh as he brings your leg to his waist as he kisses you, with the other hand on the small of your back

don’t confront him about it though or else

Kirishima

oh where do i begin with this man

will literally be at your mercy if your thighs spill out whenever you sit down

you wearing pants? he’s staring. shorts? he’s definitely staring. skirts??? staring.

now if you hit him with the skirt + thigh high combo, you might just kill him

did i mention that his absolute favorite thing about your thighs are when they spill over, could honestly be with anything

especially with the thigh highs where it spills over the top?? yeah, you know what I’m talking about

h o w e v e r

if you have the audacity to pull up wearing just one of his shirts?? thighs exposed???? yeah, good luck

it doesn’t matter how tall or big you are, you and me both know this man is huge. he will ruin you

in a very loving and manly way of course ❤️

i did it again, let me stop right here

please let him touch your thighs casually too, he needs it to survive

like whenever ya’ll are chilling on the couch or cuddling, even in public if you’re comfortable with it

like he needs to have a hand somwhere on them, he’s very affectionate and this is apart of his love language

i really love this man

n e wayz, so here’s the rundown:

soft n’ plump jiggly thighs = happy kiri

soft n’ plump jiggly thighs with the thigh highs = feral kiri

i said what i said

Aizawa

alright so listen here kitty cats

he’s an honorable mention because i hc that he’s not 100% a thigh man, if that makes any sense

can’t really pick out what he is though, probably likes chest ass and thigh equally idk yet

anyways

like he loves them, but he’s not about to lose his mind like kiri type love, ya feel?

but. the reason why i chose him as an HM is because i 100% believe that this man will tie you up in his scarf AND will purposefully bind your legs in a way that there’s spillage in between

i don’t even know if this is making any sense but i have such a clear picture of this in my head

like rope is great and all, but his scarf has more surface area to it, so like it covers more which makes spillage easier?? i can’t believe i brought math into this

if you take anything away from this at all, let it be that aizawa will love how plush they are

he would totally also sleep with his head on your lap at any given moment, you cannot argue this

would also probably accidently graze his stubble against your bare skin one day

and then would probably continue to do it purposefully depending on your reaction

— - —

Bokuto

let’s get something straight here. you would be out of your damn mind if you thought he wasn’t gonna be on this list. it’s treason, your honor.

honestly, it’d really be you two crushing on each other’s thighs, and i think that’s beautiful

would totally stare and comment on just how much he loves them at every passing moment

would also try to touch them all the time. oh, and he’s totally into the hug where you jump at him and he holds you underneath your thighs

it actually boosts his ego and keeps his spirits high, so go ahead and do that whenever. 100% guaranteed to suppress emo bokuto

akaashi considers you a vital part of the team for it hfjdkdkd

but i know what ya’ll are here for

so sis,,,, sit on his lap, i dare you

just go ahead and sit on him and see what happens

if you think for even a second that he’d let you get back up, you really need to re-evaluate

you move those pretty lil hips against his thigh?? oh man

better yet, you guide his hands to your thighs as you ride move on his?? phew chile, yeah go ahead and cancel your plans for the week

all in all, very blunt and obvious on his love for your thighs and will make it known

Nishinoya

girlies,,, we all hc that this is our latin king, and i agree

and as a latina myself, i think i have every right to say that my latinx radar says he’s 100% a simp for thighs

this man is obsessed. you know what, that’s an understatement

he truly believes he was born into this world just to worship your luscious thighs

also would totally call you thunder thighs, but he means it in the most loving way

he may be on the thinner side (and shorter) than most of the hq bois but trust me on this, he can and will pick you up with ease

would also love to squeeze your thighs for no reason at all. i’m telling you, he really just loves them

would also beg you to suffocate him with your thighs

would say some shit like “breathing is worthless if it means I can’t have my face in between your thighs”

you might as well let him, he makes a good point

he’s definitely a biter. but you didn’t hear it from me

biting what, you may ask? i think we both know

anywho, 11/10 would let simp for my thighs

Aone

i swear nobody be writing for this baby, so i guess it’s my job now

the sweetiest out of all of these horn dogs

he just loves how soft they are, ya know?

this gentle giant adores the spillage too, but in a much sweeter way

like he finds it absolutely adorable, especially because it’s just so different compared to his own tall and sturdy figure

would have the prettiest blush if you told him he could lay on your lap

would also gently caress them if he’s cuddling you instead because he can’t get enough of how soft they are

he also likes the way they jiggle but he doesn’t know it yet

the second ya’ll start getting, ahem, intimate then he’ll find out real quick hfjsksmd

it’s like he’ll lowkey start out as a chest man, but then when he sees the glory that is your thighs, he’ll truly be a changed man

overall, 12/10 would bring home to meet the parents

Daichi

daichi queens,, come get your man because i gotta make a statement

so here’s the deal with the captain

he’s 110% an ass man, no questions asked.

you see, the thing is. yes he loves him some cake, but the plump thighs that come also as a result of said cake does not go unnoticed

he’s definitely an HM because he just loves how full your hips are

will automatically place his hands on your hips whenever you get close or go in for a hug. in public that is

in private, man’s hand doesn’t leave your ass. will literally refuse to rest his hands anywhere else like

you know what else he loves? that lil dance you do in order to get your pants on

i know you do it, it’s inevitable for us thick queens ✊😔

but that’s okay because that means he’ll totally help you. and by help, i mean he’ll help take them off

ya’ll will definitely be late a couple of times if you had to be somewhere

either way, you stay winning if this man steals your heart

[allie-writes]

on ghosts

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen, M/M Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Dedue Molinaro Additional relevant tags: Character Study, Pre-Slash, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, (Minor) Animal Death, Post-Timeskip, Blue Lions Route Word count: 4753 Language: English Read on: AO3 | Fanfiction.net

 Perhaps he might be the most bloodthirsty spirit Faerghus has ever brought forth, really. He roams the chapel to the sound of rattling metal and the smell of death and rot surrounding him. His face is gaunt, pale, and contorted in a pitiful sort of rage. His whispers and mutters well into the night, as though he never sleeps. As if his fellow ghosts won’t let him rest.

 And it’s weird. He might as well be a face-snatcher, too, because Sylvain could swear that he looks a lot like a boy he used to know.

Sylvain thinks about ghosts.

Content warnings: Mental health issues, a rat getting killed, mentions of blood, dead bodies, death imagery. Please read at your own discretion and stay safe!

i.

 With the Pegasus Moon comes a cold icy enough to blanket even Garreg Mach with a thin layer of snow.

 It’s nothing compared to northern Faerghus, where winter draws on endlessly and spring is unkind. Here, the snow falls in tiny flakes that cover the grass like powdered sugar. It glitters in the dying lamplight, silently settling on the ground as the night draws on.

 It’s painfully quiet.

 Any soldier would know to not to trust the quiet after five years of war. Murderers can hide well under the cover of the night. Ambushes may lie in the wait where you can’t see them yet. Better sleep with a knife under your pillow and listen to the silence as though it were your favourite song. Goddess forbid you may find an offbeat.

 War begets sleepless nights and fitful sleep. Tonight seems to be a night of little sleep, if any at all. The courtyard in front of the officers’ academy gathers more and more dusted snow as Sylvain stands and watches it fall. His sleepwear and the thin blanket thrown over his shoulders do a poor job of keeping him properly warm, but he is used to the cold. And he’s survived even worse things, besides.

 Maybe, were he younger, he would have found someone to keep him company for the night by now—to warm his bed, to thoroughly exhaust him, and to chase the sleeplessness away. But he isn’t twenty anymore, and he doubts he’d find any genuine comfort in it with things as they are. He can’t recall if there ever was a time where it was about comfort at all.

 It’s not comfortable, standing in the cold with his sleep pants tucked into his unlaced boots and his bare feet surrounded by coarse lining. Nothing is comfortable. War isn’t comfortable.

 Sylvain is tired.

 He steps out onto the grass. The snow is so thin it doesn’t even crunch under his feet. The sky is a perfect, pitch black—the kind of colour that folktales from back home would use as the backdrop for fantastical stories about spirits that come for you in the night.

 An eternity ago, when things had been easier, Mercedes would occasionally recount some of those tales. She would scare the fainter of heart, like Annette or Ashe, and entertain everyone else with a good story for the night. She hasn’t told any tales ever since everyone reconvened a few months ago, though. It isn’t the time or place to speak of ghosts. They all have their own ghosts now, and the most terrifying of all of them haunts their thoughts and the monastery day in and day out.

 Perhaps he might be the most bloodthirsty spirit Faerghus has ever brought forth, really. He roams the chapel to the sound of rattling metal and the smell of death and rot surrounding him. His face is gaunt, pale, and contorted in a pitiful sort of rage. His whispers and mutters well into the night, as though he never sleeps. As if his fellow ghosts won’t let him rest.

 And it’s weird. He might as well be a face-snatcher, too, because Sylvain could swear that he looks a lot like a boy he used to know.

 But it’s still painfully quiet. And Sylvain is still tired. And no iron clatters, and no mutters are to be heard, and it almost doesn’t smell like the blood of enemy soldiers, either.

 The snow catches in his hair, and his breath fogs up in the air. Everyone has their own ghosts now, and Sylvain has been cultivating an entire army of them since long before the war. They were born somewhere between a village girl’s thighs and the give of his brother’s flesh when he drove his lance between his ribs. It’s almost funny how cathartic the horror of it all sometimes feels.

 Maybe Sylvain is long since gone, too. Maybe he died at the bottom of a well, or froze in the wilderness, or bled to death on the inside. Something within him definitely did die. He’s no less of a ghost than what lurks in the shadows of the cathedral.

 But his haunting grounds are much colder, and quiet as death. Sylvain wipes the molten snow from his lashes and pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders. He probably won’t catch any sleep, but he still steps back from the grass, and into the corridor leading to the great hall, and eventually, back into his room. By then, he’s almost dry.

  ii.

 There is a sense of abject horror to watching his prince crush a rat in his hands. The poor thing’s bones snap and crack, and there’s no mercy to the grip around its limp little body until its guts come spilling out. Its blood drips onto the floor in slow droplets, looking like liquid tar in the moonlight.

 “Nuisance,” booms the vengeful ghost wearing an old friend’s face.

 Sylvain sits in one of the pews towards the back of the cathedral, silently watching. The sun had set only about two hours ago. The altar at the very front is covered in snow, glowing a strange blue colour where the moon shines through the broken roof.

 The ghost slowly skulks towards it. His movements are sluggish and tired like a dying animal’s, and he ever so carefully places the rat’s carcass atop the altar as though it were a sacrifice to the Goddess. He mumbles something, so quietly that Sylvain has no hope of making out a single word.

 It almost looks like he is praying.

 But that can’t be it. Rather than the Goddess, he must be trying to appease his ghosts—his father, his mother, an entire army and Glenn Fraldarius. Dedue. Everyone is familiar with what haunts him by now.

 Sylvain carefully studies the hunched over form at the altar. The moonlight makes the patches of ratty white fur draped around his shoulders shine like the snow surrounding him. Not a hair moves. He is entirely still, and hopefully unlikely to turn around.

 So Sylvain stands up, as slowly and quietly as possible. He hasn’t yet taken off his armour from the day’s routine scouting mission, and the plates of it scrape softly in the cathedral’s silence. It’s barely noise, but it’s apparently loud enough for a wounded, paranoid beast to hear.

 “Who’s there?” he snarls, turning, and his bared teeth and icy, singular eye glint silver. He scours the darkness before him like a predator. Then, he steps forward. His boots clink against the floor with every heavy footfall.

 Sylvain stands rooted to the spot. There is no point in running—if he did, surely, the prince would be onto him in an instant. So he slowly forces his legs to move, one after the other. He steps out into the corridor between the pews, hands raised, palms open.

 “It’s just me,” says Sylvain, not daring to make eye-contact.

 The clinking of armoured boots against the floor’s tiling continues, grows ever closer. Sylvain breathes evenly, staring at his feet, until the steps come to a halt. The overpowering smells of filth, sweat, blood, death and decay surround him and he almost wants to gag.

 “Why are you here?”

 Sylvain feels a smile strain his lips, out of habit.

 “I don’t know, honestly. I just wandered in here. Guess I’m a bit restless.”

 He raises his eyes as if to prove his honesty. Usually, he makes sure not to look directly into the face before him. He doesn’t like having to acknowledge—beyond a doubt, beyond plausible deniability—that this is Dimitri. But at the same time, this wounded animal, this little boy from his childhood, deserves to be looked at, and be it only to set his frail mind at ease.

 “Restless,” echoes Dimitri. “What do you know about restlessness.”

 Sylvain swallows and holds Dimitri’s eye. “Nothing at all, Your Highness,” he says, exaggeratedly blithe. He begins to lower his still raised hands. “I was just about to leave, anyways.”

 In a blink, Dimitri seizes his right wrist. He holds it up with a grip that could crush Sylvain’s gauntlet and bones alike were it just an iota tighter. His rank breath fans across Sylvain’s face. “Do you take me for a fool?” he snarls.

 “Never, Your Highness.”

 Dimitri glowers at him. “Then do you really think I would let you reach for whatever weapon you’re carrying?” He indicates towards Sylvain’s lower body with a tilt of his head. “Should I just sit patiently and wait for you to stab me in the back?”

 “I’m not carrying any weapons,” replies Sylvain. The hand around his wrist tightens threateningly. “I swear I am not. I fight for you every day. I have no reason to hurt you.”

 “Let us pretend you weren’t a filthy liar,” Dimitri jeers. “So what if you have no reason to hurt me? Do you think people need a reason to kill?”

 Sylvain can’t help but remember the rat, squeezed to death in the same iron grip that is currently holding his hand up. His eyes flicker towards the altar. “Maybe not.”

 That seems to satisfy Dimitri. He grins, and the shadows passing over his face bring out the monster quite well. “So you admit as much,” he says. “But let me tell you something. I won’t let you kill me, yet. Not before I get to hold that woman’s head in my own two hands. The dead are helpless. They cannot act upon their thirst for revenge. So I must not join them before then.”

 “Of course, Your Highness,” Sylvain replies. The smell around him is slowly making him nauseous. He still takes a deep breath. “But I need you to understand that I’m not here to kill you. Or harm you in any way for that matter. I don’t have as much as a butter knife on me.”

 “And isn’t that a shame.” The fingers around Sylvain’s wrist tighten just a bit more. Even through the padding below his armour, it hurts.

 “Please let me go, Your Highness.”

 Dimitri stares, but looks right through him. “You couldn’t kill me if you wanted to,” he says. “But know that I could crush you like vermin. That I will crush you like vermin, if you ever scutter back in here and hide in the darkness like this.”

 “And do you really think you would you enjoy killing me like that?” Sylvain asks. He would bet that there’s no way he would—in a moment of clarity, he would realise what he’s done. He would have to live with the knowledge that he had murdered someone close to him, for no good reason. That he’d become what he despises most. That Sylvain’s ghost would come for Dimitri’s head, and Dimitri’s head alone.

 The hand around his wrist goes slack. Then it drops away.

 Dimitri averts his eye, looks towards the grand portal at the back of the cathedral. His shoulders and jaw tense up. “Leave,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Don’t come back.”

 Sylvain nods, and cradles his right hand close to his chest. Wordlessly, he walks past his prince, and doesn’t turn to look back even once. He pulls the portal open only far enough to just slip through, and only once he has an inch of solid wood between himself and Dimitri does he dare release a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 The night is cold, and the snow on the bridge is frozen over where it’s been pushed aside in heaps. Sylvain shivers and breathes shakily. Funny. Almost as if he’d seen a ghost.

 He looks down at his wrist—properly examines it in the moonlight. There are four finger-shaped indents in his gauntlet, spanning three individual plates. The dents in the metal almost feel like Dimitri’s grip is still there.

 It’s smeared with blood and rat-guts.

  iii.

 The world seems to run on quid pro quo these days. Perhaps it is a byproduct of war. If you keep on taking and taking from one party, you can eventually begin to give back to another in equal parts.

 Ferdinand von Aegir and his trusty steed cheerfully bleed out on a stiflingly warm spring afternoon. In turn, Dedue comes back from the dead.

 And he must have brought back some part of Dimitri from the underworld along with him, because in a moment of clarity, with shaking hands clasped around his most trusted vassal’s forearms, the tremor in the prince’s voice sounds almost human. One ghost has returned—a living, breathing thing, instead of a bloodthirsty facsimile that lurks in the darkness of Dimitri’s mind.

 By the time they regroup at Garreg Mach, the spell is broken.

 Nothing truly changes, except that the spectre haunting the monastery grounds now has a shadow following it around. At least the nights are milder now, so Dedue’s stalwart vigils are not bitten by frost nor covered in snow.

 Sylvain sits with him, one night, in the third row of pews from the front. A few candles around them remain lit. Sylvain’s gauntlet has long since been fixed and Dimitri pays neither of them any mind, either way.

 “It’s good to know that you’re watching over him,” Sylvain says, lowly. “None of us really managed to.”

 Dedue gives him a curious sideways glance, but doesn’t ask him to elaborate. He just straightens in his seat and sighs. “I would never mind looking out for His Highness,” he says, “especially when I am, arguably, to blame for his current state.”

 “Are you, though?”

 “The dead have always had a firm grip on his conscience. And I left him to think that I had died. That yet another life had been laid down for him. It was the cruellest thing I could have done.”

 Sylvain purses his lips, stalls by glancing around the empty cathedral. “Maybe you’re right,” he says. Dedue nods grimly. It’s funny. He’s younger than Sylvain, and so severe. “But I still think you did the right thing. Goddess knows what all of us would be doing by now, were His Highness gone for good.”

 Dimitri mutters something to himself, almost loud enough to be intelligible from where they’re sitting, and starts to pick at a heap of debris. Dedue watches him like a hawk, and maybe one day, his efforts will be rewarded. Sylvain wonders how that would even work.

 Silence stretches on between them, only filled with vague muttering and the scraping of stones and plate mail. “Well,” says Sylvain eventually, “and then, there’s still that sliver of a hope that he’ll actually come around. Take the throne, become the king we need. Keep Faerghus from falling apart.”

 Dedue’s lips press into a firm line. He slowly tears his gaze away from Dimitri and meets Sylvain’s eye. “Is that really what you think?”

 “I want to, at least. Don’t you?”

 He pauses. “Of course. There is not a doubt in my mind,” Dedue settles on. “Though I do not think there is a magical cure for what ails His Highness.”

 It almost makes Sylvain laugh. “No,” he says instead, “there really isn’t.” And it’s understandable, and relatable—all of them are messes in their own right. War does that to a person. Sylvain has no trouble admitting that he might be the biggest mess of them all, has been for a long time. But unlike him, Dimitri used to be kind. He had no time to properly get used to all the vitriol being pumped into his system, had no time to build up a resistance to the poison, and was promptly killed from the inside out for it.

 Dedue shifts in his seat, looks back towards their prince. He has stopped his aimless digging by now, instead staring off into space.

 “At the very least, he is alive,” says Dedue, very quietly. It sounds as though he were only now beginning to reconcile his guilt with his own conscience. Sylvain almost laughs. Dedue, too, is kind.

 “Alive might be overstating it,” he says.

  iv.

 And then Rodrigue Fraldarius dies so Dimitri can actually come alive again.

 It’s almost unsurprising, that the toll for their prince’s soul has to be paid in blood. The sun slowly sets on them, dyeing the sky a similar shade of red, and by nightfall, Duke Fraldarius has gone well and truly cold.

 It rains throughout the night, as though the heavens themselves were weeping for their loss. They leave their march back to Garreg Mach for the morning, and lay out Rodrigue in the most dignified manner possible, given their circumstances. Mercedes softly offers a prayer, Felix runs, Dimitri runs farther, and the Professor gives chase.

 The rest of them remain at camp, and sometime during the night, as the rain eases off to a drizzle, Sylvain and Dedue set out to dispose of the body of a murderous girl left unaccounted for. Gilbert surmised she might have been a Bergliez—the younger sister to a general who had preceded her in death.

 It ultimately doesn’t matter. The rain rolls off her cold, pale skin the same as any other corpse. She is limp and heavy between them as they heft her towards a ravine. And hard as carrying her might be, she falls easily.

 This close to Gronder, the Bergliez girl finds her resting place on familiar soil at least. It still strikes Sylvain as somewhat cruel. Somewhat terrifying.

 “Taking her back to the monastery,” Dedue begins, quiet and even, rumbling like subtle thunder, “would not have made anyone happier. I do not imagine the Empire would have claimed her.”

 Sylvain’s mouth is bone dry amidst the rain. “We didn’t have to leave her dead in a ditch to be eaten by wolves, though,” he says, lightly, like it’s a joke.

 Dedue’s voice is firm when he replies, “After making an attempt on His Highness’ life, this is a greater mercy than she is deserving of.” The raindrops plink on his armour. “I have no pity for her.”

 There’s something terrifying about Dedue, too.

 Sylvain purses his lips. “Do you think...” he begins, and trails off. It’s hard to see much in the darkness, but Dedue seems to be listening intently, back straight. Do you think vengefulness finally came to bite Dimitri in the ass? he desperately wants to ask. Do you think the Empire would be tossing him down there instead, had things gone just a bit differently? Where would that leave us?

 But these are not questions to ask Dedue, of all people. Maybe he will bring them up with Felix, when it stops being the insensitive thing to do.

 The rain falls on, and Sylvain doesn’t finish his question. Instead, he stares down the dark ravine as if he was waiting for something. He half expects the Bergliez girl to come crawling back up. Perhaps all the spite stored in her small body is enough to miraculously revive her. Make her into one of Dimitri’s heartless, murderous ghosts. If she grabbed at Sylvain’s ankles, could she pull him back down with her? Would he even think to fight her?

 “We should head back to camp, Sylvain,” says Dedue, eventually. The rain is getting heavier again, and he’s right. He’s right, and yet.

 And yet.

  v.

 There’s something genuinely human about Dimitri again, after that.

Sylvain feels like his insides have been freshly scraped out, but their prince finally dares to stand before his people again—one-eyed, filthy, and with tears streaming down his face. And he’s hopeful. Goddess, he’s hopeful, because the people looking up to him remind him how hope looks.

 And to them, hope looks an awful lot like Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

 It is hope that has him struggle to rekindle his humanity, bit by bit. He spends days tracking down the people close to him around the monastery, always keeping his head bowed and voice low as he apologises and, eventually, tentatively speaks to them as one would with old friends. It’s as amusing as it is sad to watch.

 Eventually, he seeks out Sylvain in one of the many courtyards. Someone has chopped off some of his hair since Sylvain last saw him, and he doesn’t reek anymore, either. It seems like a miracle, after all these months.

 “Sylvain, may I have a moment of your time?” he asks, shoulders curled inward, in a clear attempt to make himself look small.

 Sylvain almost laughs. “Of course, Your Highness.”

 Dimitri smiles—a small, wobbly little thing. “Thank you,” he says. His tone is close to the regal cadence from their childhood. It feels almost nostalgic.

 “Well, how can I help you?”

 The prince sighs. He is pale—not in the way a ghost is. Not in the way a corpse is. Goddess knows Sylvain has seen his fill of jaundiced, bruised bodies lately. By comparison, Dimitri only looks exhausted, and isn’t that a good look on him for a change?

 “Sylvain, I must apologise to you,” he says. “As must I to everyone else, of course. You understand my meaning.”

 “I do, but... I’m the last one who needs your apologies, Your Highness,” Sylvain replies. It comes out a little dry, almost enough to make him want to cough. Dimitri frowns, looks agonised at hearing Sylvain dismiss him so.

 He straightens up, squares his shoulders. Emphatically, he says, “I disagree.” Whether his bearing is animalistic or kingly in nature, Sylvain can’t tell. “Words cannot make up for everything I’ve done, or for what I’ve put all of you through. Believe me, I am more than aware of this. But even if this is mere lip service, I want to think of it as a starting point.”

 And then, curiously, Dimitri reaches for Sylvain’s bare wrist. He slowly curls his fingers around it with a measured, deliberate gentleness. “Whether you need it or not, I still think you deserve an apology. If only as much as everyone else.”

 “I got the gauntlet fixed,” Sylvain replies.

 “So you did.”

 Sylvain sighs. He wants to run a hand through his hair, but finds one of them inconveniently held down. “Listen, Your Highness, let’s just focus on winning the war, first thing. Everything else can come later.”

 “But—“

 “Did you apologise to Felix, yet?”

 Dimitri starts, then looks away, studying the caps of his boots and the grass. He dips his head in a nod. “I’ve lost count how often, quite frankly. And I still feel like it will never be enough.”

 “Maybe it won’t,” Sylvain agrees. Dimitri’s gaze snaps back to him, the hand around his wrist clenching. His eye is wide, with something wretched and hungry boiling beneath the surface. A gluttony for punishment. “But you know how he is—actions mean more to him than words do.  So show him that you mean it.”

 Dimitri suddenly drops—slaps away—his wrist as if it had burned him. “And then what, Sylvain?” he asks. “Is that what you’re asking of me as well? How would I even go about that? How does one show repentance?”

 “That’s not—listen,” Sylvain says, holding back a groan. “No one is asking you to spend the rest of your days between self-flagellation and martyrdom. Just... win this war. Show everyone who sided with you that they didn’t fight for nothing. That’s all you have to do, really.”

 “And the throne?”

 There’s not a doubt in Sylvain’s mind that Dimitri will ascend it. Out of a sense of duty, or because people push him into it, he doesn’t know, but—he will. “You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it,” is what he says, though.

 Dimitri seems to relish in the ambiguity. His eye slips shut. “Very well, then,” he replies. Hums. Sylvain thinks that’s the end of that, but his price proves him wrong. “Rodrigue would have liked to see me coronated, certainly.”

 “I’m sure he would have. And maybe Felix would agree, though he’d never admit it.”

 Dimitri laughs, soft and rumbling. The ghost of Duke Fraldarius seems to hang about him much more lightly than the rest.

 When Dimitri’s blinks his eye open and he looks at Sylvain, it’s with a level of fondness that almost catches him off guard. “I think we went quite of track, Sylvain,” he says. “I came here to apologise to you, and yet...”

 “It doesn’t matter, Your Highness. Really.” And because Dimitri looks almost sceptical, he adds, “I mean it. You might not realise it, but I think I’m more willing to forgive you after this than I would have been after nothing but an apology.”

 “Very well, then,” concedes Dimitri. He straightens up, rolls back his shoulders. He stands about as tall as Sylvain these days, but wears the height much more imposingly. Kingly. “I suppose I will have to lead our troops to victory, then. Just to be assured your forgiveness.”

 That sounds suspiciously like a joke, albeit a bad one. Sylvain still laughs at it. “I wouldn’t forgive you if you didn’t, that much is true.”

 Dimitri smiles. “Thank you, in any case,” he says. Then, looking around, pretending—endearingly badly—to be busy, all of a sudden, he adds, “I unfortunately have a lot to catch up on, so if you’ll excuse me.”

 Sylvain waves a hand, dismissive. “Off you go,” he says.

 And the prince bows to him, just by a few angles, before he turns on his heel.

  vi.

 Pegasus Moon in Fhirdiad is freezing, but it feels like spring compared to Gautier.

 Rime covers even sunny days until nightfall, and nights are almost endless in Fódlan’s North, even though the city’s lights make a valiant effort to stain the pitch blackness of the sky a bruised orange. A few lamps and torches around the castle remain lit until morning, still. By their humble light, guardsmen and knights brave the cold without as much as a complaint.

 Sylvain is not nearly as brave—a mere political visitor, who only stays at the capital to play nice with court and king when negotiations with Sreng slow, who only visits when his father wants him out of his hair.

 He walks about the courtyards in the dark, where snow is piled as high as his calves. But he’s wearing his sturdy travel boots, laced up almost all the way to his knees, and the crunching of the snow below his feet feels like home.

 That’s how the ever busy king of the united Fódlan finds him—standing knee-deep in the snow, bundled up in furs over his relatively humble travel gear. Sylvain doesn’t expect him, but then, in a way, he does. Dimitri is awfully used to haunting ancient halls.

 “I see you couldn’t be bothered to announce your arrival personally.”

 Sylvain grins. He turns to face his king. “I had a lot of excess energy after being on the road for so long, Your Majesty.”

 If they hadn’t know each other for the better part of their lives, perhaps Dimitri would reply with something other than a shake of his head and a vague huff of laughter. But as it is, he only steps into the snow—briefly, disdainfully looking at his feet as though he were surprised it is wet—and then proceeds to step into the holes of Sylvain’s tracks.

 A twin set of torches tries to illuminate the entire courtyard, but their soft yellow glow is not nearly enough to drive off the darkness of the night. Dimitri comes to stand before Sylvain, looking disgruntled in soaked shoes and dishevelled regalia.

 Perhaps the faint light hides some of his tiredness, but he looks good. Healthy. Alive. Sylvain smiles at him, tilting his head. “Are you without Dedue tonight?”

 Dimitri nods. “I promised him I would look for you, then turn in for the night,” he says. “I wish he would stop his constant fretting, one of these days.”

 “To be fair, I’m sure lots of people are out for your life,” Sylvain replies.

 Dimitri laughs, like it’s a joke, and well. Enough of that.

 Sylvain roughly yanks his king into a crushing hug, because he can do that, what with them having known each other for the better part of their lives. Dimitri goes stiff against him, as he always does, before returning the embrace even more ferociously.

 “I’d like to announce that I have arrived healthy and whole, Your Majesty,” he says into the fur trim of Dimitri’s collar, and Dimitri laughs again.

[chonisbestmistake]

Obvious and oblivious

Rosé x Female!Reader

Rated: M

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing

Word count: 2,231

Summary: “Jesus Christ, why does it smell like sex in here?”

You couldn’t exactly recall when the show ended, as soon as you took a step on stage it was all a blur. You knew you gave all of yourself to the audience that night, singing your heart out there and dancing under the colorful spotlights with your best friends, your family. You felt your ears ringing when stage platform took you downstairs and you sent a last wave of your hand and a beaming smile to the big arena full of screaming fans. As soon as you were out of their sight you felt Rosé colliding into your arms, happy tears streaming down her angelic face for the 10th time this evening. You cooed and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek, feeling Lisa hug you from behind, Jennie and Jisoo joining the circle shortly.

“You were great guys, you killed it, i`m so proud of you all.” You whispered, out of breath.

“Oh, Y/N –honey, you were the one who gave your 120% tonight, I think I heard some fan screaming he`d kill for you. No wonder, you were dancing like it was truly your laaaaaast.’’ Jennie huffed, her voice raspy from all the singing. She smirked at Rosé still clinging to you, referring to her wild behavior at Coachella last year. You didn’t even have to glance at the blond girl in your arms to know she was blushing furiously, eyes never leaving the floor.

“What can I say? I like to let myself go on stage. Besides, it’s a great opportunity to compete with Lisa for the dance queen crown.” You laughed when her elbow collided with your ribs. ”Ouch, Lisa, that actually hurt.” She gave you a toothy smile and embraced Jisoo, poking her cheeks while the brunette tried to bite off her friend’s fingers.

“Okay, we have half an hour to ourselves for now, I’m gonna go take a shower, we can meet up and eat something in 15 minutes. Celebrate and everything. How`s that sound?” Jennie was half way out the door already, taking her earrings and bracelets off.

“Shower! Me too!” Lisa followed her shortly, Jisoo already by her side, putting her messy hair in a bun and kindly telling managers to fuck off for the rest of the break.

“Guessing, it`s just the two of us now” You said, glancing around and making sure no one’s looking your way. “Wanna take a shower, babe?” You whispered close to her ear, knowing well it’d make a right affect on her.

“I’d love too, you know it, but not with the girls in one room, and the shower place is too small for all of us anyways.” She giggled when you cupped her flushed cheek, eyes falling to her lips, action not unnoticed by her. “Not here.”

You sighed, not pleased at all because you knew you couldn’t show too much affection for your band mate to anyone, but her. Not even to the girls. So you picked her small hand and pulled Rosé into the empty dressing room, immediately pinning her to door and attacking her neck. Still high after your performance, you felt adrenalin rushing through your veins, resulting in your arms shaking a little. She was annoying you all evening, smirking at you while slowly swaying her hips to the rhythm and she knew she was making you hot by the second you stepped on stage. She could give a great performance there, in front of all the fans, but behind closed doors it was you who gave the real show, who was the star of the real `event`. Making sure to not leave the hickeys, you bit her pulse point, licking the pain away. You knew you had 15 minutes before the girls’ return but it was enough time for you to satisfy you tired girlfriend into oblivion after the hard day. Without further ado, you picked her up by the thighs, grinning when she gulped, surprised, and made your way to the white couch standing at the corner of the room. Turned out, she wasn’t as tired as it seemed at first. By the time she was on top of you, with your hands under her skirt, she was already out of breath, whimpering and all flushed cheeks. Shower and food long forgotten, this was your favorite moments of the day when you could enjoy the heavenly sight of a mess that was Rosé right now. Eyes half closed, lips parted, little whimpers escaping her mouth without a care. You reached for her jaw, tongue sliding to her earlobe, sucking, and then down to the soft spot above her collarbone. Her hips jerked upwards immediately, but your grip on her waist was much stronger, the idea of pulling her impossibly close never leaving your mind. Adding another finger, stretching her deeper, you caught her lips once again to muffle her cries that sounded more like mewls now. You looked into her hooded eyes only to see that she was so, so lost in bliss, never stopping for a second her steady movement above you. Her strawberry blond hair was a beautiful mess, cascading down her back and you couldn’t resist pulling, earning a long loud moan that nearly sat you on edge. You both knew she had to be quiet, so your palm cupped her jaw, fingers pressing slightly against her parted lips. You weren’t prepared for the pain when her teeth locked around your index finger, but you didn`t pull away, knowing she needed this right now, something to bite on, trying hardly to muffle the sounds escaping her mouth. Minutes have passed and you could see how desperate she was, chasing her orgasm like there was no tomorrow. So you decided to have mercy and flipped her on the couch, immediately going down, your mouth meeting her where she craved you the most, helping you fingers to soothe her ache. As soon as you went for another lick, her thighs nearly crushed your earpieces that were still stuck in your ears after the concert. She was gone now, her grip so tight, you couldn’t even hear her yelling your name and you prayed nobody would, honestly.

“Rosé, are you there? Is everything okay?” The grip on your head eased and you heard several knocks on the door. “Damn it, Jennie.” You breathed out, stealing a glance at the door and then looking at the girl beneath you. Rosé looked like she was about to pass out, breathing heavily, eyes closed, heart beating so loud you could literally hear it through your probably crushed earpieces. One glance past her navel and you knew you had to clean up not only her, but yourself and the couch too, quickly, before Jennie comes in and kills you two. You lapped at her thighs and Rosé let a sharp whine, which didn’t go unnoticed by the sudden visitor.

“Rosé? Can I come in?” You sweared under your breath again, standing up and straightening you skirt. “Give us a minute, we’re changing!” You smiled at your girlfriends flushed face, wiped your wet cheeks and helped her stand up on her unsteady, shaking feet and straighten her own dress.

“God, what haven’t I seen there already?” A very grumpy Jennie finally opened the door and stepped inside the room, eyes narrowed.” It`s been 25 minutes, what have you been doing for so long? We`re waiting for you” Sure, time definitely flew by when you and Rosé were alone like that, but seriously, 25 minutes?

“Sorry, Jen, we just lost track of time, I guess.” You tried to come up with an excuse, but you`re mind went blank as you stared at your girlfriend standing silently by your side, still looking stuck in a headspace and messing with her bottom lip.

“Wait, you said you were changing, why are you in the same clothes still?” God, Jennie, just let it go so we can all go eat, you thought. “Rosé, why do you look like you ran a fucking marathon? What happened?” It wasn`t the first time you saw your girlfriend go mute after a mind-blowing experience and, honestly, she looked so cute with her messy hair and still hooded eyes that seemed like they lost their focus completely. While you were deciding on your answer, Jisoo entered the room, followed shortly by Lisa.

“Jesus Christ, why does it smell like sex in here??” You winced at the loud voice and stared at Jisoo with wide eyes. You saw Jennie`s chin almost hit the ground and heard Rosé `s sharp inhale. Lisa didn’t even flinch which was odd.

“We…ugh.”You couldn’t connect the thoughts in your head, and every decent answer seemed to fly out of the window. You tried to focus, stealing a glance at Rosé, who was blushing furiously, looking down at her hands that were clenching your shoulders desperately just minutes ago at an attempt to steady herself on your lap. Jeez.

And then something hit you. Hard. “Wait, how do you even know what it smells like?” Jisoo was taken aback by your question and you sure as hell noticed the strange look she gave Jennie, before firing back. “Doesn`t everyone know though? Lisa?”

“Um… nope. But Jennie might?” She tried to hide her smirk behind a cough, but you knew better. Jisoo went red under Lisa`s intense look. “Wha– how did you even?…Great slip up, Chu.” Jennie looked flushed and angry at the same time, giving dagger eyes to Jisoo. “Why me? I didn’t say anything to anyone, let alone Lisa! Maybe someone was just being too damn loud when they weren`t supposed to and she heard!”

To be honest, you were glad they forgot about you two for a second, it gave you time to clear up your thoughts, but the complete confusion on your girlfriend`s angelic face made you laugh out loud. As the two concerned faces of your unnies turned to you, you regretted your slip up probably more than Jisoo regretted hers. But then you remembered what this was all about.

“So, you slept together, huh.” It wasn`t even a question from your side. Jennie turned bright pink, covering her face and let out a desperate huff while Jisoo, on the other hand, made a grimace, but didn`t look flushed at all. Dead silence in the room was interrupted by Rosé `s loud gasp. “What? When did that happen? Why didn`t you tell us anything?”

“The same reason you didn’t tell us you were screwing Y/N.”

As soon as those words left Jisoo`s mouth you saw a panicked expression on Rosé`s face and unintentionally stepped forward, shielding her from everyone else. The move didn’t go unnoticed and the atmosphere changed a little. Thanks to Lisa, who broke the tension, you could suddenly breathe again. “So, if we finally figured this all out, can we like, go and eat? We have only 5 minutes left.”

“Now how did you know? You don`t sound surprised at all.” You asked, eyeing her relaxed state and calm expression. Like she knew all of this for too long and was just tired already.

“That`s because I`m not. You guys weren’t really subtle. Neither of you.” She smiled, knowing she was right. “It`s funny how you`re so obvious but so oblivious at the same time, trying to hide from each other. I kinda grew tired of waiting for you to tell me so I just let it go.” Her smile turned into a sad one and you felt guilt blossom in your chest.

“I`m sorry, we should have told you sooner.” Rosé breathed out, standing beside you. “To all of you.”

“Yeah, we just weren`t sure you would approve or whatever. Were kind of scared even. If we only knew about you two…”  You took Rosie`s hand in your own and pulled her closer, eyeing your unnies standing with a sad look on their faces.

“No, we`re sorry too. We should have said something, be an example. So you wouldn’t feel bad about telling us.” Jisoo said, side hugging her lover. “Yeah, and you`re our best friends, our family. We should have… I`m sorry.” Jennie gave Lisa a guilty look, pouting slightly. The younger girl let out a laugh. “It`s okay, unnies, I still love you all.”

“Aww, come here nugget, I love you more!” You snickered and gave her a bear hug, the others following you shortly, cuddling close.

“So like, can we eat now?” Lisa asked, her tummy growling loudly and making everyone laugh once again.

“Food!” Rosé cried out, already half way out the door.

“I dunno, I already ate.” You mocked her and she stopped so suddenly, Lisa collided with her back.

“Woah, Y/N! How was it?” Jennie smirked at your flushed girlfriend, following everyone outside.

“Oh, i`ll tell you everything about it!” You said in a serious tone, making sure Rosé heard you loud and clear.

“No, you won`t!!!” She crushed into your arms, closing your mouth with both of her tiny hands. Even the roots of her hair sparkled red from embarrassment right now. You tickled her sides slightly and she let go, laughing hysterically and pulling away. But you were quick to catch her waist again, spin her and give a sweet kiss to her pouty lips, hearing a three sweet `awww`s behind your back. You really did have a great supporting family, you thought.

[mvssmallow]

ULTRAVIOLENCE: MERCY

UV OST: #1 Crush

“It was unnecessary.” Yongguk disapproves from behind the dark wooden desk. “Waste your own bullets in your own goddam time.”

Hanbin just sits there, body tense and high on adrenaline/guilt/whatever, silently screaming for Jiwon to keep his mouth shut and just take the berating their leader is dishing out to them. 

But he knows better. He knows his partner.

“He deserved it.” Jiwon spits out venomously, “He had kids packing Ice down by the docks. I put a couple of shots in his head. So what?”

Yongguk raises an eyebrow but never raises his voice, the deep calm timbre of his voice more menacing than any kind of shrill volume. 

“That deserves wasting time to execute him does it?”

Jiwon snorts. “Wasn’t an execution. It was mercy.”

Yongguk chuckles for some reason but it’s not because anything is really funny. It just gives Hanbin a headache now, sitting here debriefing about a job that should’ve been discrete, simple, neat but turned out to be loud, messy, complicated and personal. 

“Mercy?” Yongguk echoes quietly, as if to test that word out. “That what you’re calling your methods these days?”

“I should’ve let him bleed out. The headshots were a mercy.” The way Jiwon says all this, matter-of-factly, conversationally, with all the remorse of a cold-blooded killer, should set alarms going off in anybody’s head but well, it’d be hypocritical for Hanbin to judge him on his intent.

He’ll judge him on the execution. And his lies. 

****

Today’s job was the conclusion of a week-long mission to take out one of the drug manufacturers still operating (unauthorised) on their turf. Hanbin had done some groundwork by getting to know the guy running the operations, who only went by the name PK. Apart from the essential information he’d manage to extract during a particularly drunk night out (he faked it, he never gets drunk on the job), he doesn’t tell Jiwon anything else. 

And it would’ve been an easy job if they hadn’t spotted all the homeless kids being abused and then used as free-labour to pack all the boxes for shipping. They thought it’d be easy to convince the kids that they were the lesser evil but turns out, there must’ve been a strong case of stockholm-syndrome because a 12yo pulled out a handgun with shaky hands.  

They’d both seen it and the shot went somewhere into the ceiling because that kid looked like he’d never shot a gun in his entire life.

Then all hell broke loose. Kids scatter everywhere, confused shouting from guys they hadn’t seen come or go during the recon-stake outs, gunfire raining from every direction. So much for stealth. So much for discreet.

June and his team get the kids out, Hanbin set the charges and goes to find the head of operations and it’s right at that time he realises that Jiwon, who was meant to be covering him, was already way ahead in the distance, standing over an angry bleeding mess on the ground. 

Hanbin should’ve stopped him. Stopped him from killing like this, in this needlessly psychopathic and dissociated way, but he didn’t. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was.....he doesn’t even know. All the does know is that Jiwon has a particularly vicious brand of justice he reserves for those who abuse kids and those who take what’s his. 

He always knew this would end up messy.

“You deal with kids now huh?”

“Fuck you.” 

There’s a muted crunch that Hanbin recognises as Jiwon’s boot stomping on a rib cage. It’s always followed by a breathless groan. 

“Oh I will.” 

They all know to expect a lot of things about each other by now, like how Jiwon prefers fists and knives to guns, but since the Accident, things have been violently unpredictable and that even though the crew talk about it hushed tones, it terrifies the shit out of Hanbin. 

He doesn’t expect to see Jiwon pulling the gun out of his thigh holster. The silencer muffles two quick shots into each kneecap. 

Too bad there’s no silencer for the screams. They should’ve gagged this idiot before he calls out to the calvary.

It doesn’t stop there. There’s another quiet shot into a shoulder that’s followed by an even louder scream. 

When Hanbin finally comes to stand next to him and brushes against his shoulder, Jiwon barely moves his eyes and his gun from the bloodied pulp on the ground. PK looks up and even with the black mask covering the bottom half of his face, recognises him straight away and for a split second, Hanbin thinks how it’s a bit of a shame that such a smart guy like PK ended up in this line of work.

“Hey, pretty-boy, you owe me...a date.” There’s a wet wheezy cough and even through all the blood, Hanbin can see the twisted leering smirk. 

“What’s he talkin’ about?” Jiwon asks in a cold voice. 

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. We’re done here. Leave him, I’ve got the chargers lit.”

But Jiwon doesn’t leave it. Neither does PK. 

In some other world, in some other situation, Hanbin might’ve rolled his eyes at this obvious pissing-contest between the two of them for his honour but right now, he just feels the nausea in his gut. Not because of the violence or the blood, he’s used to those things by now, but the way Jiwon gets so caught up in revenge that nothing is going to snap him out of it. 

“Ohhhhh,” PK starts, reading something on Jiwon’s face and then seemingly enjoying all this despite his predicament. “You think you’re the only one....who knows what his mouth.... feels like? You’re not-ARGH, motherfucker!”

PK slumps on the left as a shot pierces through his collarbone. There’s a groan but they also hear the quiet laughter of a madman who knows his time is up but will make everything hurt on the way down. There’s really no honour amongst thieves. 

“I want...you to know that... I got to him too. Remember that next time you fuck him-”

The headshot is so fast Hanbin almost didn’t see it coming. It’s followed by two more.

Just in case. 

Then another. 

June’s clipped tones cuts through his earpiece, telling them the kids are all out and all the charges are in place. It’s only his training that gets Hanbin jolted from this haze. 

“B. Let’s go. We’re done here.” He orders. He’s still running Alpha on this job, they still follow his plan but Jiwon’s never really been just another subordinate. He’s never been just a team member. He’s always been some other dangerous category. 

Jiwon is stuck in his bloodlust: his eyes dead and black, his mind tunnel-visioned with a singular focus, his body nothing but an obedient and deadly machine. Hanbin places a firm hand on his shoulder and feels it reacting sharply, like it stings. 

“Let’s go. That’s an order.”

Jiwon doesn’t move. 

June is still shouting in his earpiece so he presses the comms to send back a message.

“Got it, get Gamma squad out. We’re coming.”

Hanbin knows June’s still in the middle of saying something but he quickly cuts off the comms and goes to disable Jiwon’s as well. The action does nothing to move the bigger man, who is still has his finger on the gun as he stares at PK’s dead body.

Jesus. It’s going to be one of those nights. 

Hanbin sighs inwardly, coming to stand between Jiwon and the dead body. He pulls off their face masks and reaches up to holds Jiwon’s face in his hands, forcing his vision from the ground. 

“Hey? Baby?” 

Baby.

It usually works. 

It’s a trigger word if anything and Hanbin knows he shouldn’t use it like this, shouldn’t abuse his own power like this, but desperate times call for desperate measures and this is a fucking desperate time. 

“Baby....look at me.”

Silent seconds tick by but eventually Jiwon slowly looks up and his eyes tract across Hanbin’s face, reading something, searching for something, before the vision clears, he leaves his bloodlust behind and pushes the hands away from his face. 

The kiss isn’t really a kiss. Jiwon grabs Hanbin’s neck roughly and smashes their mouths together so violently that there’s a dull ache of teeth hitting teeth. Just as Hanbin gets sucked into Jiwon’s heat, he’s released and pushed away. 

“Let’s go.” 

They blow the charges on the warehouse. An anonymous tip gets the kids sent to the local police station to be dealt with and re-homed hopefully. Hanbin knows most of them will end up back on the streets within the year. It’s the circle of fucking life around here. 

Jiwon says nothing the entire ride back to HQ. He says nothing when they surrender their weapons to the armory. Says nothing when Soo questions the empty magazine in the guns. Says nothing when Donghyuk asks if they need any injuries checked out. Says nothing when he goes to shower off the blood and shove his dirty tact-gear into the incinerator. Says nothing when they’re in debrief. 

It’s not part of his job anyway. Hanbin runs Alpha team and it’s his responsibility to give the reports. Yongguk’s always been a good leader to them and trusts them enough to run their team as they see fit but he does have his limits and has never stood for unnecessary and wasteful personal vendettas. This is a business and businesses should never be personal.

And that’s when Jiwon says something. 

****

“Gamma said you stalled. Why?” 

They’re sitting in Yongguk’s office, facing him from behind the large dark desk. The cup of tea sends soft wisps of steam into the air and for a few tense seconds, it’s the only thing that moves in the room. 

Hanbin takes a breath to speak but Yongguk holds up his hand to silence him. 

“No. I want to hear it from you.” 

It’s directed at Jiwon, who shifts in his chair, before shrugging.

“You wanted the operation shut down. We did it. That PK asshole is dead. How is this a problem?”

Yongguk hard stare bores into Jiwon’s face and maybe there’s a brief second of defiance before Jiwon backs down. 

“You didn’t answer my question. You stalled, why? Gamma were out, the charges were set, you planning on staying inside the building to get blown up? Was that the plan too?”

Jiwon looks away but Hanbin can tell from the way his knuckles grip the arm rest that he’s livid on the inside. That body nothing more than something to contain his rage. 

Please don’t have an episode here. Not tonight. 

“I wanted him dead. I took my time. He deserved it.”

Yongguk sits back in his chair and takes a sip of the tea. “You make it personal?”

“No.”

“I can tell when you’re lying you know.” Yongguk smiles, a rare thing in itself. “You think you can act without me knowing? You think I’m not already two steps in front of you? You forget who took you in? Taught you?”

Jiwon hangs his head now. Out of shame or tiredness or just trying to calm his thoughts down. Or maybe all the above.

“I know how you think. I know how you act.” Yongguk continues, resting the tea cup on the desk gently. “I’m taking you off Alpha for a month.”

“WHAT?!”

Jiwon whips his head back up to protest, words dying when Yongguk shakes his head that he doesn’t want to hear it. 

“That’s final. Hanbin will still run Alpha, we’re sending June over to run point.”

“What about me?” Jiwon asks, sounding for once, like a how normal 23 year old should. “What am I doing?”

“You’re back on wheels.”

“What?!”

Yongguk gets up then, a signal that this meeting is over. Hanbin rises from his chair, bones aching from the entire week, and watches as Jiwon stays seated, glaring at Yongguk.

Come on, don’t have an episode now. Please.

“Jiwon.” Hanbin says, voice both an order and a plea. 

The hand on Jiwon’s shoulder is warm and firm. It reminds him of something, grounds him back to something, something good and safe. But this entire week was turning out to be a nightmare so what is the point of something good and safe anyway?

Jiwon shakes the hand off his shoulder, curses under his breath and stalks out of room without looking any of them. Hanbin watches him leave. The guilt setting in like a slow stain. 

“You sure you want this? A whole month?” 

Hanbin looks across at Yongguk and nods. “I can’t have him out there right now. He’s gonna get me, him and the entire team killed.”

“Hate to think what he’d do if he knew you asked for this.” 

“Blame it on you as usual.” Hanbin says with a smirk. “You act like you disagree.”

Yongguk chuckles and punches Hanbin lightly on the arm. “Go. Sleep. New assignment in 2 days.”

****

Jiwon gives him the silent treatment, just grabs a pillow from the bed and walks back out into the living room to sleep on the couch. Hanbin wants to roll his eyes from the melodramatics because it’s not like all of them haven’t been benched for other reasons too, but he knows this is something else.

Jiwon’s not injured. Nothing is broken except for his mind. 

“Hey? It’s cold out here, come back to bed?”

“No.”

On most days, Hanbin would just leave this alone and let Jiwon work out whatever chaos he has running through his head but that was before the Accident. These days, he hates how responsible he feels for everything going in Jiwon’s life. Hates how it feels like neither of them have control of it.

“Come on. I can’t sleep properly without you there.”

There’s a scoff that he can hear, even through the pillow. “You don’t have a problem fucking other people to get what you want so why don’t you just find someone else to sleep with you?”

Jesus. This again.

“I didn’t fuck him.”

“He said you did.”

“I wanted information. I didn’t fuck him. I barely kissed him. He was talking shit.” Hanbin says with a weary sigh. “We talked about this. You know this is what I need to do sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

There’s a hand that rests on Jiwon’s leg but he shrinks away from it, curling into himself under the blanket.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

Hanbin growls in frustration despite himself. A week’s worth of sleep deprivation wears down his patience and softness. He tries but he’s running on empty. 

“What do you want me to say?” He asks Jiwon’s turned back. “You act like you don’t do the same thing if it helps the job. I’ve seen you do it. How is that different?”

Jiwon turns over with irritated rage etched all over his face. “I don’t want them to touch you like that! Just shoot them! Why do you have to let them touch you like that?”

Hanbin isn’t even surprised by the outburst. He’s heard 100 times already. The Accident made Jiwon’s possessiveness worse, even when there’s never been any reason for it. 

“It doesn’t mean anything. I can wash them off.” Hanbin says softly now, sinking down onto the floor and resting his head on the couch next to Jiwon’s. 

“You remember any of it?”

“No.”

“You enjoy any of it?”

“No.”

“I hate it. It’s fucked up.”

“I know, baby.” Hanbin reaches out to run his fingers through Jiwon’s faded brown hair and counts it as a victory when his eyes close with a sigh. “Come back to bed with me?”

It’s easier after that. Some nights are like this. Hanbin hates how messed up they are, like prisoners of Jiwon’s erratic mind, but he can’t hate the reassuring warm weight of Jiwon’s body on top of his as they fuck slowly in the middle of the night. 

He can’t hate how Jiwon looks right into his eyes as he thrusts hard and deep, can’t hate how full he feels, can’t hate how Jiwon bites his neck like he’s claiming him forever. 

Can’t hate being claimed. Because that’s what he is. 

[ten-thousand-paper-wasps]

It wasn't the sex, not exactly. Sex for Nells was entirely casual, it hardly meant anything, harmless fun. It was easy.

Morrin wasn't easy, in any sense of the word. She was caustic, irritable and derisive and she made sure he knew exactly how much he displeased her.

He loved her, the way one might love a particularly ruinous cat, or an especially difficult grandmother. She was his darling, furious counterpart.

She carried him home in her arms. He trusted her with his back in a fight, with his life. There were no secrets he would hide from her.

But evidently, the feeling wasn't mutual.

"Make it good for me, pet," she commanded, like a god to its acolytes.

And Nells, in her thrall, fell to worship.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

On the third day, he came awake to the sound of muffled sobbing. Zakurr loomed over him, eyes screwed shut, kneeling in a desperate prayer. Falk sat at his side, their hand on Nells' heart and eyes glowing with power.

The crying had to be Morrin, then.

He reached for their hands. He was okay. He was home.

He was also exceptionally tender, which was absolutely not improved by being crushed by an anxious orc and his massive, beautiful biceps. Oh, how he's missed Zakurr.

When Falk ends the spell and their eyes return to normal, Nells sits up. "Where's Morrin?"

"She went to bed," Falk tells him. "Been a long couple of days, needed some time to herself. You know how she gets."

"Was up all night again, too," Zakurr added. "She's been in a right state since she brought you back."

Falk shoots a glare at Zakurr. "She just needs space," they said. "Nothing wrong with a girl taking time to sort her feelings. Was both of you covered in blood when you got in, of course she's been worried."

"But so have we, dearest," Zakurr rumbles. Worried for both of you, we were. I thought...Nells, I thought I was going to lose you. You wouldn't wake up."

"I'm okay, really," he reassures them. "What about--"

"She told us what happened. It's far from my place to say, mind, but I suspect she's feeling a bit conflicted."

Falk glares at Zakurr again, and Nells resolves to talk to Morrin immediately.

His stomach gurgles. Immediately after breakfast.

"I made soup," says his beautiful, magnificent orc. Nells thinks, for the thirtieth time in a week, that he's in love.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Once they're on the road again, Nells asks her. "Morrin, can we talk?"

"I don't especially want to talk with you, Nells, pleased though I am that you're alive."

"See, I weren't really asking, dearest, I do very much need to speak with you." Owlsby chose that moment to skitter up his body to perch on his shoulder, clicking his mandibles together.

"Seems to be a theme for you," she spits, "asking without asking."

He's taken aback by the accusation behind the words. He'd asked her, absolutely. Made damn sure of it, he had. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, don't beg, my pretty pet, not when your mouth can be better put to use. You can call it a duty, if you like."

Falk, just ahead, whipped around. "Morrin, that was uncalled for."

"Perhaps we can all discuss this more constructively?" Zakurr suggested. "If we’re to be together for as long as we will, I'd like no resentment among us."

"Morrin?" he tries again, "Did I dishonor you?" He almost fears the answer.

"It was a duty," she eventually says. "When you have a duty, there is no want or fear, only that it must be done."

"Morrin," he whispers, horrified, "have I sinned against you?"

"It was a duty," she repeats. "I would have done it regardless. It matters not if one wants it, one simply does it."

"I'm not asking about your thrice-damned duty, you stubborn, half-spent candlestick, I'm asking--"

"You did me no dishonor, Nells, but by the flames, I wasn't ready! I needed tenderness! You fucked me, you sputtering ball of wax, you fucked me and I loved it! I loved every minute, even though it meant nothing! It meant nothing, Nells, and that is your dishonor, not that you did it in the first place!"

Morrin had tears in her eyes again, but so did he. Merciful fires of birthing, ash on the hearth, smoke on the wind. He was stupid. He was so, so stupid.

They spend the rest of the afternoon in uneasy silence.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

After dinner, which is a stew made with the rabbits Falk caught earlier in the day, Nells feels ready to try again. He did wrong by her, and he must apologize.

"Morrin? May I speak with you?"

It's another long pause before she answers. "Aye."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I pushed you, I'm sorry that I didn't consider your feelings. I'm sorry for hurting you the way I did."

She takes a ragged breath, refusing to look at him. Falk's eyes are on them, watchful and wary.

"I'm not upset that you fucked me," she said. "I'm upset with myself. It was just something I had to do, you know? A duty. I can put my feelings away for duty. It doesn't count, not if it's duty. I could do it again, if I had to."

"Look, if we fuck, we fuck. If we don't, we don't. I don't want that from you, not if you don't want it. I don't want it if it's duty."

"Nells, the plan was--"

"Ash on the hearth, damn the plan! I can't do that to you again! Next time, you overinflated gust of wind, we just fight our way out."

Morrin snorted, and he thought he saw the ghost of a smile. "A castle that big? Maybe if you brought your newest husband with you. I'm not sure I have the strength to do it, myself."

"Come now," he laughs, "Zakurr couldn't pull off that level of deception, you've seen how huge he is."

"If he were much bigger, he'd break you in half," she says, a genuine grin on her face.

They were going to be okay. Coals on the sands, they were going to be okay.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

They don't touch anymore after that.

They love eachother the way they always have, but the easiness is gone, a brittle anxiety in its place. If they lean together, they jump apart. They stop hugging. Cuddling. Even sparring together has become too much touch to tolerate.

Zakurr was worried. Falk was agitated. Morrin was skittish. Nells was just lonely and a little lost, yearning for the touch of his vicious paladin. All the molten magma of creation, what he'd give to only hold her hand again!

After three weeks of forced distance, he broke. "Morrin, I can't do this any longer."

She only looked at him, quiet as she's always been, lately.

"This has to stop," Nells insists. "I hurt you, I did harm to your person. You are within your rights to be cross with me. But this, Morrin, this silence, this distance between us, it cannot go on! Carve your price from my back if you will, only be at my side again. Be my shield, my sensibility."

"Are you truly so lost, Nells?" Her voice is rough with disuse.

"Morrin, please, let us end this--"

"Spar with me."

"You want to spar?" he asks, hopeful.

"Dearest," says Zakurr, "are you quite sure this is wise?"

"It's what he needs," she grinds out. She draws her monstrous greataxe and steps toward him, and Nells mirrors her pose with a staff.

"Then you can do it elsewhere, away from my cooking," Zakurr commands. "I'll not have you knocking over dinner in a fit, either of you."

Falk says nothing, absorbed in his stew.

.

Her first strike is fast and brutal, and it's all he can do to keep out of her reach. Her beast of an axe is heavy, sharp, and unforgiving. If this is what she carries every day, it is little wonder she's so strong.

He snaps out of his thoughts as the branch he's perched on snaps in two, crushed by the metal of her weapon. He jumps up, up, out of her reach and she rages on the ground below him.

Morrin is too upset to spar safely. She's out to carve her price from his back, as he'd well offered. Sputtering candlesticks.

He comes in low, moving just slowly enough to get her close, then speeds back up to make her chase him. If she lands a blow like this, he may not survive the night.

He doesn't want to think about the idea that she's planning for it.

His staff strikes her behind the knees, on the shoulder, on the wrist, and she cries out but she does not drop her weapon. She swings again and catches his thigh with the flat of the blade.

Nells grunts in pain and drops. She didn't cut him, but that was going to leave a hell of a bruise later. He leaps back up as she swings the axe again, wincing.

The fight goes on, and on, and on. Nells and Morrin roll, twist, dance around eachother, remembering the shape of their bodies against one another.

After nearly two hours of constant, vicious combat, they stop, too tired to continue. They sit and rest, back to back, and Nells tries to burn the feeling into his memory, the weight of skin on skin.

"I'm sorry," she says, surprising him. "I went too hard." If you were any slower, I might have killed you, she doesn't say, but he hears it anyway.

"I probably had it coming," he tells her, rather than admit his panic. "Are we okay?"

She takes his hand. "I think we're okay," she says, and then she looks at him with such focus, like he's the most captivating thing she's ever seen. "Nells, back in the castle, you--"

"Upon my honor, darling Morrin, I shall never besmirch you in such a way again--"

"When you kissed me, there was, I don't know, it was a feeling, and maybe I'm being sentimental, but--"

"Morrin, I swear it, you're safe with me, let me hold you." And he pulls her to him in a soft, but solid embrace, burying his face in her mane of hair.

When he finally pulls back, she's still looking at him with those beautiful brown eyes. "Nells, it is terribly improper of me to ask this of you, but I need you to kiss me again."

Candlesticks, he really wasn't expecting that. "Er, what?"

"I've been feeling a lot of things, and I need to figure them out. This is the easiest way to do it. Kiss me, please."

"Morrin, are you feeling alright? Do you have a fever? I can fetch Zakurr, just a moment--"

"Please," she whispered. "If only once, but you must, I beg of you."

This was officially the most confusing day of his life. "Alright, dearest," he said, and he kissed her.

It was long and slow and gentle, the most tender he knew how to give. He ran a hand up her back, feeling the way their mouths fit together. Her eyes were closed. He held her more closely to him, the hand on her back pressing in, and then,

She grips his shirt in a fist and opens her mouth to him, tongues pressing together, fighting, dancing. She's taking control, forcefully, and he's letting her.

When they finally break apart, she's blushing like mad. "Did you figure things out?" he asks.

"I did," she sputters. "I figured out that you're a damnably good kisser, but I'm not in love with you, and as enjoyable as it was, I don't think I want to fuck you again." She pauses a moment. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah," Nells chuckles. "We're okay.

[jojosthetic-boogaloo]

@staruplatinum says: hey so I’m sending this as a submission because I don’t want to send multiple asks. I hope this isn’t to too long. Thanks in advance and I hope your account gets 11111100000000x more followers because you deserve it. Such a cool and unique idea! 💓

anyways,, I’m a bisexual Italian girl, but I prefer men. Im 20. I’m a Taurus (super stubborn and reserved) and I’m quite shy. I am a survivor of abuse, because of that, the last few years of my life have involved me being extremely shy and quiet. I can relate a lot to Jotaro because honestly - I rarely talk. Especially with new people. I have really bad anxiety lol and I try not to get too involved with drama. In my free time I workout/weightlift. I enjoy helping others, and I love children. My close friends consider me the mom of the group because I take care of everyone, and I always put people before myself. I’m short (5’2), and I have a toned physique that I maintain every day at the gym. (I take working out and eating healthy super serious xD) my hair is naturally black but I currently have it dyed silver. I love to cook + clean 🧼

There’s not much else to say ;___; I just want one of these sexy men from the jojo universe to protect me and hold me ~ ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

Honey hi! Dia here! Much much much love from this (currently melting from Spain’s heatwave) gal! You’re so sweet dear!! And I can only wish to get recognized out there ;W; But, I must accomplish being known with consistency and effort! So I’ll do my best for you guys!

Rambling over! Onto your lovely matchup! Since you did tell me in DMs that you wanted a moodboard, I’m adding one here too, yowza! 

Now now, though at first it was an intense “JUST SLAP JOTARO IN HERE” kind of reaction, I decided to think it over! I gave you a brochup just because of this simple fact! Hope you like it! (If you don’t, you’re always free to tell me to think it over or redo anything you’re not good with! I really won’t get mad I just want you all to enjoy what I write for ya!)

Translation: “Let’s change the world together, my love”

Jean Pierre Polnareff!

You actually met at the gym! He was new to this one, and he so happened to get an instant crush on the hot silver haired girl weightlifting for her life in a most ridiculously gracious way. Why were you the only one there though? He didn’t care much, for now.

He walked up to you, trying to make himself look cool and resting on a weights machine next to you, his arms crossed and a flirty smile on his lips. When you noticed, you rolled your eyes. Not this type of dude again. When you were about to start with your usual “Listen dude…”, he spoke up, and you didn’t expect his speech to be… like that.

“Hey there! Our hair matches! That’s pretty cool right? We could be gym buddies, that way we match in more stuff, right?” He said, an almost childish grin on his face. Was this man for real or was he just that oddly, innocently cute. You rose from your position, leaving the weights to the side and facing him with your arms crossed as well. 

“Where did you come out from?” You asked, unintentionally aloud. And he quickly answered. “France! And if you ask as of right now, the door right there!” You couldn’t help but chuckle, okay, the guy was funny. Oddly cute for the respectable amount of muscle he packed teamed with his height, but no matter, cute.

“Alright… french guy, you can be my gym bud. I warn you, I get here early.” He gave you a thumbs up and a wide smile. “Três bien! Now, let me sit right here and do some bench pressing, buddy.”

You never actually got around to share each other’s name that first day. Nevertheless, you were surprised to see him appear there the next day right about 10 minutes after you did. How did he manage to get there in such close range of time when you never even told him when you exactly clocked in? 

“Bonjour mademoiselle! I didn’t quite catch your name yesterday, what was it?” You stood there, kind of still confused on his punctuality and shook your head. “Well, I’m Y/N, pleased to… meet you? Again?” He gave you a hearty laugh and a nod, extending his hand to shake it with yours. “And I’m Jean Pierre Polnareff, just Polnareff is fine, though, Y/N.” You timidly stretched your hand out, gently feeling his bigger, warm hand envelop yours. That was the start of your relationship; gym buddies.

As time went by, you had exchanged numbers, and texted each other about jogging routines and when you’d go to the gym to meet up. But one day, he asked through a simple text. “Could we go to the movies today?” You pondered. This was the first time Polnareff had offered to meet anywhere that didn’t imply exercise. After some doubting, you replied curtly with a “Sure.” This did not stop Jean Pierre from smiling idiotically in his apartment upon reading it. His plan was going smoothly.

When you met in the evening, you were surprised. And so was he! You looked so different in casual clothes from your more sporty usual ones. With a slight blush to his cheeks due to the pleasant surprise and thinking about how cute you looked, he offered to go kill some time before the movie started and go for a drink in the meantime. 

You sat on a newly opened healthy shakes local. As you drank your juice, Polnareff had been chatting casually about this and that, you were paying attention, really! But your eyes worked in a different wavelength than your ears. While you tried to focus on whatever he was talking about, your eyes wandered from his broad shoulders to his collarbone, to his toned pectorals and then back up to his face. His beautiful icy blue, almost grayish eyes staring back at you as he talked. He was talking… so you dragged your gaze from his eyes to his lips. Was it weird you wanted to touch them? They looked so plump and… they looked nice okay, you wanted to feel them, even if for a moment.

“Y/N, is there something on my mouth?” He seemed to have caught on with your staring and made you snap out of your thoughts. You blinked, leaving your cup down on the table and about to shake your head no. Instead, you kept staring at him, giving a small nod and leaning over the table, timidly raising your hand and muttering a very quiet “Don’t move.” 

You pressed your thumb to his lower lip, making a wiping motion as you slid it along and finally retreated. He couldn’t help but stare back at you with a deeper blush on his face, thinking on how nice that felt and how he, now even more so than before, wanted to kiss you. But he’d refrain, he respected you first and foremost.

When you finished your drinks, and the time for the movie to start had arrived, you awkwardly got up and made your way to the cinema. Once there, you sat and focused on the screen. Even though both of you could barely focus on the screen, the tension from before still on your bodies.

Halfway into the movie, you saw Polnareff had timidly let his hand rest facing up on the armrest that divided yours and his seat. Taking this silent offer, you slid your hand timidly from your thigh to gently place it on top of his, tangling your fingers together and feeling how he squeezed, upon looking up, seeing he had a childish smile on his face with his eyes glued to the screen, refusing to look back at you out of embarrassment yet.

After a few minutes of holding hands, you felt him shift slightly on his seat. When you turned around to face him, you saw he had put his whole arm on the armrest, resting on his elbow and slightly tilted to your side he kept watching, but, as you observed, he was slowly falling asleep. 

Taking this chance, you leaned close and put your temple to his, carefully nudging him to stay awake. He turned his face around to face you with a sheepish smile on his lips, giving you a nod and turning around once more to watch the rest of the movie.

When you got out of the cinema, you’d awkwardly stood next to each other in silence, only broken when Polnareff took charge and started walking slowly, offering you his hand once more with a timid smile. You took it in yours and quickly caught up to him, now both of you walking together in pleasant silence on your way back home.

It was quiet and tranquil outside, not many people were around at this time of the night. After some time, when you started recognizing the path that lead to your house, he spoke, an utterance so quiet and firm sounding that you needed to take a minute to process correctly.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze once more. When he looked back down at you, his preoccupied pout turned into a tight lipped, lopsided smile on his face. You looked embarrassed, and you didn’t really look him in the eye, but the way you had tenderly clung into his arm told him everything he needed to know to feel at ease. 

Without another word spoken, since you were terrible at handling this situation even if you really wanted to speak up, you decided to rest your head on his arm, holding into it in the most sweet way you managed to, hoping the feeling came across to Jean Pierre.

“Lord have mercy, for I’ve fallen deep for this girl.” He thought.

Brochup: Jotaro Kujo & Muhammad Avdol

Jotaro Kujo because…

You’re a physically strong lady, he can get behind that, he thinks you’re really cool for it. The fact that you’re reserved much like him only adds to the mix of things he likes about you; you’re relatable, you’re real, nothing about you is fake to him. And quite honestly, he’ll fight anyone who dares say otherwise, barefisted.

You’re nice to hang with! You are chill and don’t talk much, he thanks you for this internally. What can he do, he’s bad at conversation and so are you, perfect bros.

One of those friendships that relies on being comfortable in each other’s presence without the need of words, Jotaro DIGS that, immensely so.

He secretly likes it when you teach him how to cook new things. Even if he messes up most the time, you always help him clean up and start over again! He finds you the sweetest person and most versatile in expertise he’s ever met. Except his mom, his mom and you are both beings to watch out for.

Muhammad Avdol because…

Avdol just really really likes how you treat others around you! The way you interact is so gentle and caring! He relates to that, he also likes to make those around him happy, and that’s one of the strongest points as to why he’s one of your bestest friends!

You’re good with kids, that’s very important for him. Treating with care and nurturing the youth with either love or knowledge is vital from his perspective. And you do just that! He thinks you’ll make a wonderful parent, if you ever even decide to be one, of course. He won’t ever pressure you about that subject.

He teaches you new workout techniques and loves to hear you speak about you thoughts on the gyms you train in, the people you meet in them or just your life in general while you kick into his open palm.

Teaches you new recipes and helps you improve the ones you know! He’s a great chef, so you’re always delighted when Avdol texts you a “Guess who just learnt how to cook x thing?”. That’s when you know you’re in for a fresh and wonderful cooking lesson.

[imagine-this-overwatch-blog]

Adoptable requests

If any other writing blogs would like to fill some of these, I’m sure the requesters would appreciate it! Thank you!

You can probably write this later something but, I have acne scars and get zits on my butt, boobs and thighs, I’m thiccc fam, and I get so scared of someone seeing it and like ugh. This has came to my head before of like hanzo having the most flawless skin and then you have me with pimples and scars on my butt like I’d be so scared for him to see em

Hi! Could I have Jesse Mccree and a younger so (nothing crazy everyone’s legal) and they both have feelings for each other but both are too scared to act because the s/o feels like he would never be into her and Jesse feels like she would never be into him and feels like he would be taking advantage of him

Hi!!!! May I have okami!Hanzo (the werewolf not just the white haired old man lol) who’s in a rut, with a sweet thicc™️ s/o who’s more than willing to be bread by him?????? Thanks~

May I request a doe!reader w/ human!Hanzo? Possibly human!McCree if you do more than one character in a request! If not, thanks anyway!

For the skin thing, could you write something with Mystery Man McCree where him and his S/O are partners like Tonto and the Lone Ranger? Sorry I’m just a huge western show nerd 😂😂

My friend, may I request some sub!Reinhardt? Both nsfw and sfw. I feel we lack content with a submissive buff german boy <3

What headcanons do you have for oni genji :D one of my headcanons for him is that (after he's "killed") he wonders around the forest he lives in and searches for lost children (the forest often have many since theres a small village nearby) he guides them out of the forest so they don't get taken by the mean witch mercy who will turns them into frogs or ingredients for her spells (she doesn't but the villagers believe she does)

Headcannons for islander roadhog? Like, who is he? Where did he come f r o m

Young!Hanzo, Okami!Hanzo, and/or Scion!Hanzo! Pretty please!

Can I request some headcanons around getting Blackwatch!Moira's attention?

Camgirl (or boy) adopts hybrid of your choice, hybrid of your choice gets introduced on screen (after consenting of course), hybrid of your choice immediately becomes a fan favorite, hybrid of your choice has just stolen your show and donations.

Hey! Can I please request some shower sex with McCree and a fem!S/O? Gotta get dirty while getting clean, am I right?

All these hybrid AU makes me happy ❤❤ but what if we have kitty!Reader hybrid instead?? Which ow boys gonna love it? And which boys likes kitty!reader with brave and naughty, and which gonna likes it with timid and obidient??

Can you please do a nsfw scenario of junkrat sleeping with a virgin reader? Thank you!

Can I request Jesse or Hanzo with a hybrid panther s/o? Sfw or nsfw, it's up to you

Can I have an order of Genji with a fem!kitty!hybrid reader? I need some kitten play in my life honestly. Whatever you wanna do is fine (but bonus points for collaring and leashing)! NSFW is preferred! :')

Maybe some gentle fisting with McCree, with him being extremely vocal, dirty talking his small trans woman s/o

(NSFW) Poly McCree and Reinhardt with a shy and timid trans woman s/o who is nervous about telling them about her kinks (Mainly musk, feet/socks, size difference, daddy kink) as she's never had a loving partner before, let alone 2. The boys are happy to make her feel nice and loved, while also being naughty and kinky themselves

Hello!! I saw up top it said you were open, but I apologize if not just in case. How about some Hanzo with a housewife kink?? Maybe she can cook exceptional well too? Thank you so much for being so open! Have a great day!!

Can you please do a HC of Jesse, Jamie, and Mako getting jealous? Thanks!

Can I request platonic!Hammond and reader? Like she is a resident of Junkertown that lives near the outskirts of Junkertown and found out about Wrecking Ball’s identity? She’s practically giddy about him being a hamster and gives him a place to stay and work on his mech and Hammond is very grateful. I think it would be fun to be best friends with an adorable hamster!!

How would Genji, Hanzo, Mcree, Mercy, 76, and Reaper feel about an s/o that’s younger than them? Like someone in their twenties while they’re in their thirties or older?

JABDOCIDBWBDKDKS I'm a recent follower and I'm screaming some of your hcs are just so GOOD???? Pls hit me with all that Good Shit©. If it's by any chance okay, could I maybe request Hanzo with fem!s/o that is initially headstrong, but secretly has an omega/housewife kink?? (I'm not sure if I'm using the AU right so sorry in advance.) Thank you so much for always being so open and kind!!! ❤❤

Maybe some headcanons for Brigitte and a hybrid Lion!Hybrid S/O? Fem or gender neutral is okay! Idrc if they're sfw or nsfw I just enjoy your hybrid AU. Do as you please with request! 💕

How about McCree with a puppy hybrid fem!so whose going through a particularly rough heat. Perhaps she's getting false pregnancy vibes, collecting his things behind his back and making a nice nest of it to comfort herself during these trying times. :')

If it’s okay may I please have a scenario where Genji’s been gone for a couple days on a mission and when he gets home he walks in on his girlfriend masturbating and whimpering his name and he just watches for a few minutes before pinning her to the bed and eating her out? Thanks in advance and I hope you’re having a great day :)

Could a hybrid s / o rabbit with a kitty! Genji / kitty! Hanzo?

Could you do Brigette with a chubby fem! So? Like, her gf sees cute couples doing piggybacks all the time and is a little sad bc she thinks she’s way to heavy for Brigette to handle?

Junkrat with a hybrid tiger!reader who growls and hisses at people they dont like and are generally moody except with Junkrat? Like, they'll usually avoid most people but when they see Rat their ears perk up and they stick close to him and just enjoy his company.

Can you please do a HC of Jesse, Jamie, and Mako trying to flirt with a crush? Thanks!

reader is on the enemy team, but our heroes have taken a romantic liking to them (and vice versa). during the middle of their ultimate in-battle, reader pulls them in for a kiss ('stunning' them, thus cancelling their ult) in order to save their own team. by the time the kiss is over, the heroes' ultimate timed out, and reader scrambles back to their team for safety. how would Reaper, McCree and Genji react?

Some NSFW for a nice shiba!Genji? Perhaps he's hit a rut and his fem!so wants to be able to help him out a bit.

[shownuslaugh]

Can’t Let Go

Series: Monsta X 8th Member AU

Pairing: M.I/Shownu; M.I/Jooheon

2020

             The party is loud. Almost too loud. As much as Chanmi loves letting loose and having fun with her boys, the atmosphere of the crowded hotel room is practically unbearable. She decides as an oblivious drunk man stumbles into her without apology that she’s far too sober for this. Or, well, she isn’t sober since she’s been drinking like a fish all night, but she’s not her usual happy drunk self. Her mood is dark.

             Just like the girl perched in Jooheon’s lap.

             Chanmi spares another look back at the new couple before elbowing her way outside, grabbing a bottle of soju on the way.

             Luckily for Chanmi the balcony is completely empty. Everyone is crammed inside, spending their time sweating and grinding all over each other to the beat of a new Khalid song. Normally she would be in there with everyone else. Normally she’d be with Youngjae- her go to good time partner despite their break up. Or maybe Gunhee. He knows how to have fun as well. But they aren’t here. Chanmi is utterly alone tonight.

             How pathetic.

             Maybe Jooheon is right about her after all.

             Maybe that’s why he’d rather spend his time with random girls instead of her.

             Maybe they aren’t pathetic like her.

             “Chanmi?” Shownu steps out on the balcony, presenting her with two shot glasses. “I hope you weren’t planning on drinking alone.”

             “I was,” she says without pause. “And I’d like to get back to that plan, please and thanks.”

             “No.” He plucks the bottle of soju out of her hand and pours them both a drink. He slides the shot glass across the railing of the balcony. The action is smooth and playful, just like the smile he give her. “You’ve been miserable all night.”

             “Well spotted.”

             “Don’t get an attitude with me.”

             Chanmi recognizes an order from her leader when she hears one. “Sorry, Hyunwoo.”

             He downs the shot, enjoying the slight burn of the liquor. “Is it Jooheon? Has he been a dick again? I’ve been telling him all tour to just leave you alone and let you live your life how you want.”

             “What do you mean?”

             “I mean he’s been doing nothing but complaining about you talking and dancing with random men. Remember that backup dancer that got fired halfway through the tour? Jooheon had him fired after you danced with him at that one concert.”

             A fuzzy memory of a cute boy and a hot dance tickles the back of Chanmi’s mind. “Why would he do that?”

             “Jealousy.” The alcohol has Shownu’s lips loose. “You should’ve heard him that night. He broke the lamp in our hotel room and almost put a hole in the wall. It took Hoseok and I to hold him back and keep him from killing the poor guy.”

             Chanmi knows what she should be focusing on, but for some reason her mind keeps circling back to the image of Shownu having to hold onto Jooheon, his muscles straining and flexing with the effort. When she shakes her head to get rid of the increasingly dirty thoughts she notices him watching her closely. His eyes are trained on her lips, pupils blown wide in his drunken state.

             “Oppa.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, anything else she was about to say dying on her lips as Shownu leans closer. Her eyes fall shut and she grips his white tee in her fist. His lips are soft, plush, and demanding. He leads the kiss the same way he leads the group, knowing exactly what to do to bring about the best result. Chanmi’s blood pounds in her ears and she wants to chase after the pleasure, especially when his tongue teasingly traces over her bottom lip, but she’s suddenly being pulled away.

             Jooheon is livid.

             “What the fuck?!” He’s gripping the back of Shownu’s shirt, eyes blazing with anger. “What are you doing?”

             “What is he doing?” Chanmi squeezes her way between them so she’s right in Jooheon’s face. “What are you doing? Don’t you have some girl you’re supposed to be playing with right now?”

             The way Jooheon looks at her is indescribable. She can’t quite pin down what’s going on in his head, but whatever he’s thinking as he looks at her isn’t good. Slowly, he releases Shownu, stepping back and bowing.

             “I’m sorry, hyung. I got carried away.”

             Shownu scratches the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Don’t do it again.”

             “Hyung…” Jooheon looks up. “Let me talk to Chanmi alone.”

             “Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,” Chanmi says with her arms folded over her chest.

             Shownu looks back at her. “Do it anyway. Please? For everyone’s sanity?”

             Part of her melts a little bit. Leader or not, she can’t say no to Shownu. “Fine. But I won’t be happy!”

             “No one is telling you to.” With that, Shownu leaves the balcony, shutting and locking the doors behind him.

             Chanmi’s mouth falls open in shock. She’s been tricked! “Hey! You bastard! I hate you!”

             “A locked door is the least of your problems right now,” Jooheon says. “Why did you do it?”

             She gives him an annoyed look over her shoulder, still tugging on the doorknob. “Do what?”

             “Why did you kiss Hyunwoo?”

             “Why do you care?!”

             “Because you’re mine!” He grabs her wrist, spinning her around so they’re pressed chest to chest, nose to nose. “Other men don’t get to touch you.”

             She smiles sarcastically. “Then I would hate for you to find out what I did with Kihyun.”

             There’s that look again. Jooheon’s grip on her wrist tightens and he presses her even further against the door. Chanmi can feel the vibrations of the bass run through her body.

             “What did you do with Kihyun?”

             Chanmi knows she’s on thin ice, but what the hell, she’s drunk and annoyed. “I fucked him, Jooheon. A few times.”

             That’s all it takes for him to be on her. He kisses her like he’s trying to erase Kihyun’s name from her mouth. Like he’s trying to sear Shownu’s kiss away. Like he’s trying to make it to where Youngjae, and Gunhee, and that fucking backup dancer, and any other man never existed. Because goddamnit she’s his. No one else’s. His.

             Her nails dig into his shoulder blades roughly. She wants it to hurt. She wants him to bleed. Everything he’s ever done to her, she wants to return tenfold. Chanmi bites down on his lower lip, enjoying the way he gasps and growls in pain. It’s music to her ears. His hands drop to her ass to give her a hard smack before tugging on the waistband of her leggings so he can slip his hands inside, digging his fingers into the skin of her ass.

             “Fuck,” Jooheon growls under his breath. No panties. She’s not wearing any panties. “Do other men know what a little slut you are? Is that why we chase after you?”

             “Shut up and kiss me again.”

             He smirks, going in for another kiss. Chanmi maneuvers so his thigh is between her legs and grinds down once experimentally. Jooheon likes the way she moves against him. He encourages it. His hands push her back and forth at a slow, agonizing pace. She moans despite herself, trailing her lips to his neck. Things are getting too soft between them. Too sweet. She bites down harshly on his neck and Jooheon cries out in pain. His hands leave her ass to wrap around her throat and pull her off him.

             “Can’t you behave for five seconds?” Jooheon lets one of his hands trail down her body, brushing over her breasts, before slipping between her legs. He can feel her warmth and wetness through her leggings.

             Chanmi gasps, arching her body towards him. “No.”

             “What a shame.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment.

             “Why? Do only good girls get your cock?” She drops her hands to his crotch and give his hard cock a squeeze. “Or is that just an excuse because you know you can’t compare?”

             Instead of verbally responding, Jooheon spins Chanmi around, pressing her chest to the cool glass of the balcony door. He yanks down her leggings before unzipping his own pants, letting the fabric drop to the ground. Chanmi gasps as he sinks himself in her wet heat. The stretch of his cock is painfully delicious and when she shuts her eyes she imagines she can feel him all the way up in her stomach. He pounds into her relentlessly. There’s no grace period. There’s no waiting for her to adjust to his size. Jooheon thrusts into her at a quick, punishing pace, forehead pressing into her neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Chanmi moans when his tongue laps at the sweat dripping off her skin in tiny rivulets. She wants to return the favor, turn around and yank on a handful of his hair while she devours his lips, but he has her pinned so tightly all she can do is cry out for mercy.

             “You’re going to cum on my dick.”

             It’s an order and Chanmi is nothing if not obedient to orders.

             She manages to hold out until she feels his cock throb inside her, filling her with warmth. She milks his orgasm with her own, twitching around him, feeling the deep rumble of Jooheon’s chest against her back as he moans lowly. He pulls out and watches his cum drip down her thighs in fascination. It gives him flashes of ideas. Ideas of filling her up a second time. Ideas of keeping his cum plugged up inside her all night long.

             “Don’t even think about it,” Chanmi tells him.

             Jooheon looks at her face, taking in her smudged lipstick and the mascara streaks under her eyes. She looks freshly fucked. Well fucked. Pride swells in his chest and he pulls her leggings up, knowing the white is obvious against the black material. He wants everyone to see it. He wants everyone to know it’s his. She’s his.

             “Don’t look at another man tonight,” he tells her.

             “Or what? You’ll fuck me again?” Chanmi knows she looks a mess and her sarcasm is falling flat. Honestly, she’s a bit scared. Scared of her own obsessive personality. Now that she’s had a taste of him- her crush since day one- she won’t be able to put him back.

             Little does Chanmi know, Jooheon is thinking the exact same thing.

[skywailer]

Poison-Alice Cooper If you’ve ever seen the video you’ll know EXACTLY why I chose this omg

(so uh, *sweats profusely* here you go)

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Kylo has only just left her chambers; has only just moved her from the dregs of the dreadnought’s prison cells; has just barely arrived in time to order an indefinite stay of execution (at great peril to his sovereignty, if Hux’s disapproving glower is any indication)  - when their connection slaps across his face, and she dares to appear before him with a sickeningly yellow vial pressed to her lips.  The image of it stings.

“Put it down, Rey,” he warns, anger welling wet in his eyes.  He takes a step towards her; she, a step back.  This could go on forever, if he let it- the ship’s corridor long and abandoned.  His subordinates are waiting at their stations, waiting for their Supreme Leader’s command.  The rebellion is on its last leg, hobbling in an enclosed valley of Ibaar, and all he has to do is give an order and it will all come tumbling down- the end of a war.  Except, Rey is waiting as well- threatening a different, just as deadly, end.

“You’re bluffing,” Kylo snaps, and his temper churns viciously, an electric storm in his chest.  Through the bond, Rey’s pure determination strikes true to his heart.  Stunned, his heart clamps tight, there is a burning in his lungs, and his muscles spasm before going terrifyingly numb.

“If you kill them, you kill me.”  

Her words are unnecessary with the intensity of their connection; it is a live-wire constantly electrifying him.  It has never been this raw before, this potent.  And she has never before given him an ultimatum.  She has never bartered her life, poised it so bluntly upon the sacrificial altar.  And for what?  For the likes of them- the thought is venomous spit- they whose hands carve her into a disposable pawn for their meager, wasteful cause; whose hands place in hers a poison.  His blood boils to know whose hand it was that gave her such a vile option, boils to sever it with his own bare hands.

Rey blocks his attempts to see this criminal’s face.  

She protects them, with her life.

Knuckles clenched, nails nearly cutting through leather and flesh, he seethes, “it’s pointless, Rey.  Careless, pointless.  I’ll heal you, and I’ll destroy them for ever making you think this was worth their shitty crusade.”  It is a vicious promise, barely softened by the trembling of his lips.  His hands ache to seize her, shake reason back into her skull, heal her of this damned need for purpose.

She simply shakes her head, and the yellow liquid glints gold in the sparse light.  He knows it’s glint well- the coma-bloom inside promising a swift exit into oblivion.  “I know the second I drink this, we’ll lose connection.  Just like I know you’ll have a very short time-frame to get to me, to heal me.”

And even then, it would take time.  Time she’d buy them to escape. Risking her life, on the off-chance they can escape.  Knowing he can’t call off the attack- or, worse, not trusting him to.  The realization of all this crashes down on him, leaves his face blood red.

“They wouldn’t do the same for you!” he shouts- outraged, horrified.  Desperate.  “They don’t care!”

Not like I do. He can never quite say it the way he means to, but it’s there, rippling tidal currents in the air between them.  Violently sweeping her off her feet.

There is a heartbreaking flutter in her energy, a tremor in spirit that she refuses to express in flesh.  Rey stands, resolute, the final pillar the Resistance stands upon- crushing weight be damned.

“I know.  I wouldn’t expect them to,” she says, a slight fracture in tone exposing old wounds he immediately regrets tearing open.

“Rey,” he breathes, takes a step towards her, arm failing to reach out the right way-

“It’s time to choose, Ben.”  

The words are as solid as her poison is liquid, spilling over into her mouth.

Kylo is running before he can see her body fall to the ground, before he can feel the tether snap.  He is at the door of her chambers, blasting it open with just a look of sheer rage.  He is on his knees, where she lies - motionless, lifeless - on the floor.  Hands clasp her face, effortlessly lifting her upon his thighs as he searches for a pulse of heart and spirit.  He finds both, both quiet and dazed, and clings to them with his mind.  He closes his eyes, tries to focus - focus - beyond the panic, to pull her back, knowing this could go wrong in so many ways.  All the while, cursing her for being the last in a haunting line of loved ones willing to die because of him.

In the midst of his anguish, in his attempts to focus and heal, Kylo realizes something is… wrong.

He opens his eyes, and looks at Rey- studying her: the peaceful rest of her lips and closed eyes (the same as when she sleeps) and the stubborn color in her cheeks.  Carefully, he rests her head upon his arm, peels the leather glove off his free hand, and presses his fingers to the side of her neck.  It is the first time, in a long time, that he has touched her- flesh to flesh.  And when he does, he finds her life beneath his hand, beating vigorously.  

And not because of his efforts.

When she comes to, she is still resting upon his thighs, head still nestled in the crook of his arm, and his fingers still pressed onto her neck.  Her vial of senflax, however, is no longer held in her fist.  Sleepily, her eyes trail down the arm that cradles her, curving around the bend of his elbow until she lands on the (surprisingly intact) little glass in Kylo’s fist, which lies knotted and heavy on her chest.  Or at least, she assumes it’s heavy.  The neurotoxin’s paralysis lingers just enough to keep her oddly numb.  Not numb enough, however, to soothe his anger.  It rolls off him in waves, foaming against her skin.  

Strangely enough, it tickles.

Of course, when, finally, she raises her eyes to his, he does not look very tickled.  Not at all.

He has had time, Rey can tell, to compose his features while she was unconscious.  Yet, still, there is a retreating undertow of hurt and fear when he commands, “don’t do that again.”

She tries to smile, not sure if it’s supposed to be smug or reassuring- either way, it doesn’t work.  She can’t even feel if her muscles are doing what she wants them to do.  

“Don’t worry,” Rey mumbles, relieved she can speak- even if she sounds like a drunken yuzzem.  She feels like she’s going to have an equally terrible hangover.  She closes her eyes, as the headache creeps in.  “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.  Seems like a one-time deal.”

The fingers Kylo had softly caressing her pulse don’t feel so soft anymore.  His thumb, resting at the hollow of her throat, drags up the length of it, catching her breath and hooking it beneath her chin, lifting with nail and calloused skin until her eyes are caught by his.  They are darker than usual, sublime in their passionate depths.  In their fury.

All of which is directed with intense precision at her, where she lies upon him, completely at his mercy.

“Because you tricked me.”

She didn’t think quite this far ahead, acting on impulse when she heard the calls for battle.  She hadn’t even thought it would work.  

“Barely,” she snorts.  Rey thinks she might have also managed to shrug.  Definitely smug this time.  Fully in spite of her vulnerable position.  “You drew your own conclusions about what was inside.”

The Resistance had long decided it was better to feign death than to become it.  Unfortunately, she chances exposing that with her actions.  Though, Kylo seems too focused on her to think about the bigger picture.

“Besides,” she rants anyway, sensation returning to her in small spurts.  Not enough to get up, not enough to run for the exposed exit just behind him, but enough to speak her mind.  “You started this.  You imprisoned me.”

That does the trick.  His eyes narrow, and his hold on her throat tightens just enough to send a thrill down her spine.  Sensation is definitely coming back.  Perhaps, too much so.  It begins to dawn on her that it has been a long time since he’s touched her like this- and it is slightly distant in feeling, like a slight drizzle on her skin.  But in a desert, that is enough to drive her mad for more.

“Barely.  May I remind you it was Hux who captured you, and I who came just in time to save your life.  Twice,” he fumes, breath hot on her cheeks.  His eyes flicker down, and Rey writhes in her mind- afraid her body is betraying her somehow.  When he looks back at her, its her eyes that do the betraying- pupils flaring wide, awakening with need and eagerly drinking him in.  

She can feel and hear his mind, humming; he is arrogantly pleased by what he sees, wholesomely relieved by what he feels: her.

“Besides,” he breathes, and his tone is just as unyielding as before- but the tension comes from somewhere low, profound and hungry.  Much more dangerous.  “This is hardly a prison.”

He says this, arm of steel coiled around her, hand wrapped around her pulse, thumb dictating every inhale and exhale with its strokes up, and down, her throat.  Her breaths come long, and deep, and slightly trembling.  Like his touch.

“I guess we’re even, then.  Let’s just call it a truce.”

“No.” It is more hiss than human.

Kylo’s trembling has stopped in sudden, stone paralysis- as though she has poisoned him.  In a way, she has.  She did, the moment she poured what he thought to be her death down her throat, injecting that same venom into his veins.  Rey can see it spreading in his eyes, feel it through clenched muscle and clawing hands as it incapacitates reason.  

Rey realizes her mistake in all this the same moment she is coerced into thinking it isn’t a mistake- when his lips sink into hers with one final, hissed, “no.”

His kiss is at once venom and antidote.  It is sharp and biting, tongue dripping toxins deep down her throat- the kind of deadly that melts bone and scorches veins.  Yet, it is distressed and yearning, that same tongue licking and dragging the last of the neurotoxin out of her- until she is raw to every part of her body and his.  

His arm has constricted around her, pulling her flush to him- so close that she can’t distinguish his heartbeat from the maddening pulse of energy surrounding them.  She can find hers, though, moaning and vulgar beneath his hand- the hand that is still wrapped around her throat, clawing and stroking.  He croons into her mouth.

Frenzied and feeling, Rey grabs him by that damned cloak and pushes him to the ground.  He falls willingly, pulls her down with him.  There is a tearing of gasps and clothing.  A sealing of sweat and bodies.  There are to be no truces between them, only a give and a take- a vicious cycle of it.  It is not the first of illicit intimacies between them, though they swear (as they had before) that it will be the last.  Because it is toxic, how she wants and presses into every part of him- even as her eyes glance to the gaping exit, her escape, and plans to leave him again.  

It is just as toxic, just as painful, how he will let her and love her all the same.