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tobeholyistobeempty · 16 days ago

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hey so since i’m in the season of ovulation here is degrading simon riley feeding my size kink. i’m not ok send regrets. 18+

“beggin little whore f’me. not so smart now that i’ve got your brain leakin outta your cunt.”

——-

yeah. you’ve pushed it. simple as that.

and god, you knew better. you really did. but some might say you’re a sucker for punishment. others might say you’re a masochist.

you think it’s probably a bit of both, when it comes to simon.

maybe it’s because he’s a big mean brute. emotionless. big ol wall of mass and muscle. tough bloke like him don’t feel a thing, yeah? at least in your mind. makes it easy to needle - easy to poke and prod and toss little jabs about his eyes or mask or whatever slivered sign of life he might be displaying that day.

he’s contractually obligated not to kill you, might you add. that brings a level of safety you got comfortable with.

but what you didn’t get comfortable with — what you couldn’t possibly ever get comfortable with, is the size of him in your fucking guts. the growl of him in your ear. the clutch of him around your throat.

even big dead-eyed men like simon have a limit. and by the grace of god, you’d found it. the bottom of this particular mine shaft, if you will—

“y’alright down there?” his voice is slick. fuckin slick with glee. a first for him, you’re sure. “still with me, sweet’eart?”

you can practically feel the smirk barring those teeth to your neck. you try to toss something smart assed back, something to keep it goin, but he’s got your wrists pinned behind your back and his cock stretchin your walls in a way that screams he shouldn’t even be able to fit — yet you’re clenching around him like you’d die without it.

all that comes outta you is a moan.

and he laughs. bastard. fuckin filthy rasp right against your ear. “tha’s what i thought. mm. s’what i fucken wanted.”

your eyes roll. he’s so deep your hips hurt. he presses a palm between your shoulder blades to pin you harder to the floor of his barracks. all that pent up aggressions got you leakin down your thighs. pathetic. humiliating. delicious.

“tha’s it. fucken stunned now, yeah?” he thrusts deeper. free hand smacking your ass til it stings. “always mouthin off. startin shit—fuck—y’knew what this was. you’ve always known what’d it take t’shut you up.”

you hiccup when he hits your gspot. over and over. so goddamn good it hurts. “fuck—fuck you—“

“yeah. y’are.” his hips jerk, hissing against the back of your neck. “feelin every inch of me, aren’t you? go on. fuckin tell me how i feel. wanna hear y’say it.”

you bite your tongue. squeeze your eyes shut. he fucks deeper. harder.

“say it.” another smack to your ass.

“big—“ you gasp, choking on it. “fucking—huge—“

he growls like you’ve fed him. “tha’s right. eight inches buried so deep in your tight little cunt y’forgot how to lie.”

youve never heard him talk like this and all you can do is whimper - the airs gone thin. every inhale is like sandpaper scratching at your throat. every thrust is like being punched open. and when every sound you make comes out as something pathetic you know you’ve lost.

you twist your head to try and adjust for reprieve but he fists your hair to still you. “y’wanna tell me again you can’t take it? huh? wanna tell me m’too big?”

he is. he totally is. but it’s delicious pain. makes your eyes water and your walls flutter. something about you can’t help but egg him on.

“s-shut up—“

he slams forward. breath cuts sharp against your neck. “wrong answer.”

you jolt. cry out. the heat is a wildfire across your skin. “s-si-mon—“

“try again.” he breathes, curling his fingers from your hair to your jaw. “or i’ll just keep pushin till y’feel it in your fuckin spine.”

he makes good on the promise with a bruising thrust. you wail with it. vision blurring blue. “fuck! fuck i wanted this—but you’re so—you’re too—fuck please—“

and it’s that last little word. the syllables that slip past your teeth presenting pleas on a silver platter, that make him moan. fucking moan.

“oh yeah. shit. now we’re gettin somewhere.” he exhales with it, shifting just to drag at your walls and angle deeper. “beggin little whore f’me. not so smart now that i’ve got your brain leakin outta your cunt.”

you long to tell him to shut up, fuck off, goto hell — any other circumstances you might have. but the first fuck with simon riley after months of pushing and prodding ain’t one to be won. you’ll be lucky to walk tomorrow. the monster can only be poked so many times before it wakes with vengeance.

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c-chai · 11 months ago

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Think I'm gonna look into proofreading. If anyone has any tips and advice, it'd be much appreciated

#my rambles #proofreading #proof reader #job help #advice

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claire-krastof · 1 year ago

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pythonmoth · 4 months ago

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cw: violence. torture. waterboarding. hurt/no comfort.

> i haven't written in a long time. it's good to be back.

× framed traitor f!reader x lt ghost. poly tf141.

Part 1

Traitor.

That's what Price thinks as Simon and Soap drag you from the table, nearly choking on your food as they give you no time to understand what's going on.

Alarms ring in your ears as you force the piece of stale bread down your throat, trying to stand on your feet but they're taller than you, so your feet end up dangling, useless. You take a deep breath, your voice shaking as much as you are.

"What's going on? Is this some kind of sick joke?", you ask, looking at Simon, desperate to find an explanation for this other than the anger and torment in his eyes.

Simon doesn't answer. Nobody does. Soap's grip tightens, but he doesn't say anything, his expression hard.

No.

You can tell they are not joking when you realize they're taking you downstairs. Sweat rolls down your face, fear creeping from the base of your neck to your toes, making you snap. You beg them to tell you what's going on, to explain why you're being dragged down there. You kick and struggle, a sob ripped deep from your chest as you start screaming, begging for a reaction. And then, pain.

Tears fill your eyes when it's Simon who hits your stomach with his fist, effectively shutting you up. You can smell the blood from past tortures mixed with bleach, and, distantly, the scent of forgotten wet rags. There's something salty in the air, and that's when you freeze, the pain in your stomach becoming nothing compared to the fear that grows in your chest.

They know you.

You've been with them for nine years. They know your fears.

"No. No. Please. Simon, Johnny— Please, please, please" you beg, sobbing as you can't do anything but go limp and heavy in their grip, doing the best you can to keep them from tying you to the chair. But it's useless.

Stars and colors dance behind your eyes as a fist connects with the side of your chin. You wonder if it would be better if they made you pass out right now. Maybe if you bite your tongue, it could—

"Gag her" Price tells them.

He's trained you for nine years.

He knows you.

You try to bite down on Johnny's fingers as he stuffs your mouth with an old rag, but it's difficult when your senses are unfocused after such a hard punch. The rag wet and disgusting, the scent and the taste making you sob again, shaking your head, your eyes big as you look at Simon.

Please.

Then a wet rag is pressed to your face. You inhale sharply as cold buckets of salty water are dropped right on your face, the cloth making it impossible for you to breathe. Salty water fills your lungs, making you choke and cough around the gagging rag.

You can hear questions, accusations, but you're paralized with fear, with pain and grief.

Grief.

They've been your friends, your family for so long. It's impossible to tell if you'll live through this. It's impossible for you to think of them as anything but monsters.

You know they usually did this with traitors, with enemies when it was necessary.

And you know they never enjoy it.

You've scolded Simon for smoking so late at night, you've had so many drinks next to him when he can't even speak. Simon often flinches awake from nightmares, startling you and then sharing quiet nights side to side.

You know this.

But then Simon hits your face again, taking the rag out of your mouth, and you can't find the love you have for him. It's expelled from your body with each hard cough, with each drop of blood falling from your nose.

"Did you not hear me?" Price demands, his arms crossed. "I'll ask one more time, then."

Smack.

Your chest is heaving, the fear so paralizing you can't even feel each punch as much as you should.

"What did you tell them?" Price continues, not looking one bit anxious for you to answer. He stands in front of you, his feet dry despite the salt burning your lungs.

"I don't know what you're talking about" you manage, looking up at Price, your eyes wide and bloodshot.

With a hard yank on your hair until your head is thrown back again, you're gagged once more, and the rag is pressed to your face. The salty water keeps on filling your lungs, unable to breathe, unable to cough around the gag.

You can't say anything. You truly don't know shit.

Hours later, when it becomes clear you won't speak, Price kicks you across the chest, hard, and the chair flips back.

You're tied up to the chair, exhausted and wet, your lungs burning with salt.

Memories of you as a child, nearly drown to death by your cousins, fill your mind. It had been a good day, until it wasn't.

Simon had held you when you told him, kissed you, and tucked you in for a good night sleep.

Johnny managed to make you crackle when you told him, patting your head, and saying your cousin had awful skills.

Now, there's nothing. Nothing but pain, and the burning in your lungs.

The door springs open, and the three men leave.

Only then do you close your eyes, passing out.

Masterlist | Part 2

buy me a coffee

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b1mbodoll · 1 month ago

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hung virgin jake is too good!!! he watches too much porn and thinks he can just slide into you, surprised and a little mad at your whining, mocking you when you tell him it's too much

pairings: sim jaeyun x f! reader

warnings: noncon + use of the word r*pe + big dick! jake + virgin! jake + blood + creampies + breeding + degradation + impact play + manipulation + fingering

💌: shut up i just moaned /pos /lh ☆ ok hi this is gabi after writing. i didn’t mean to make this so dark, but what is b1mbodoll without noncon.

jakey thinkin he can just slide in with no prep…. i actually feel insane. you’re whimpering and begging him to take it slow n be gentle because he’s so big. so fucking girthy, too. he thinks a little spit on your tight pussy and the steady dribbles of precum trailing along his length are enough to spread you open.

his cock is heavy where it rests over your cunt and genuine fear courses through you because there’s no way he’ll fit like this. “j-jakey, wait,” you pant, hands reaching out to push at his abdomen, eyes wide. “you need to prep me, baby, look at you. you’re too big, ‘s gonna hurt.”

“no, sweetheart, you’re wrong. i’ve seen a buncha videos before, it’ll feel good, jus’ take it, yeah?”

he sounds so earnest; there’s no way he truly thinks porn is real, right? you can’t take him and you’re unsure how else to convince him of that. “i can’t! jakey, you’re not listeni — fuck! oh god, stopstop.”

it feels like you’re being split in two, tiny pussy stretched beyond it’s limits despite your pleas for jake to fucking stop as he forces the blunt head of his fat cock inside; just the tip and it’s already too much, your inner walls spasming and clenching around him, eyes squeezed tightly because it hurts so bad and he hasn’t even filled you up completely yet.

jake stops once his cockhead slips in, afraid to cum before he’s had the chance to properly fuck you, nostrils flaring while he tries to hold off his orgasm, dick pulsing and his balls tight, more and more precum drooling from his slit and wetting your hole, teeth sinking into his lip so hard the soft skin breaks, the taste of blood bringing him back to his senses.

you feel so good wrapped around him n he cant help but continue to sheath himself in your pussy, pressing his hips forward and groaning as his cock bullies its way into you, inch after inch causing you to let out pained cries that make his chest ache but he can’t stop, not until you’re stuffed full of his thick cum.

you’re hitting him now, throwing your fists at his chest in a weak attempt to get him off, full on sobs making the guilt he felt a second ago shift into something meaner.

“you’re fucking weak,” he spits, and gone is your sweet boyfriend. you don’t recognize the man above you. “y’wanna cry so bad, i’ll give you something to cry about, whore.”

jake’s earlier fear of cumming too soon is long forgotten; he catches your hands when you go to strike him again and pins them to the mattress before slamming his hips against yours, remaining inches now fully inside and you can feel him snug against your cervix, prodding at the entrance of your womb.

he doesn’t give you a chance to at least try accomodating to the discomfort, setting a brutal pace immediately, headboard knocking against the wall as his cock ruins you, hurts you, violates you.

you don’t want this anymore, so why is he continuing this torment?

jake believes you were made for him, for his cock. it shouldn’t hurt.. you’re lying. you have to be. it’s supposed to feel good. crocodile tears and yelps wont change his mind. you’re his little plaything. his pocket pussy. he’ll only get better at fucking you with practice, so he’ll use you whenever and however he wants.

you can’t do anything except let him have his way with you, too tired to continue fighting him, but just coherent enough to try convincing him with your words.

your voice is strained, throat raw but you ignore the soreness and attempt to speak through whines. “jake, y’gotta stop. i don’t — oh god — don’t want this. y’know what the means don’t you? this is…”

tears blur your vision.

“this is what, huh? ‘s rape? is that what you were gonna say?” the condescending tone like a knife to your heart. “you’re such a fuckin’ dummy — hah fuck, so tight —” he groans. “this isn’t rape. you like it, i know you do. your pussy’s so tight, so fucking wet, all for me.”

your face crumples at his words; there really is no getting through to him.

jake continues to abuse your poor, sensitive cunt. it’s sickening how every brutal thrust allows for his cock to kiss the opening of your uterus, his balls slapping your ass creating an audible plap, plap, plap that makes you cringe and your hole gushes, drenching the sheets with your combined juices; the realization that you’re wet makes you wonder… was jake right? do you like this? it’s too much for you to process, body beginning to go limp beneath him.

“stay with me,” barks jake, clapping his palm against your cheek, “‘m not — fuck! — done, haven’t even cum yet. can’t pass out on me, i won’t let you.”

as if to prove his point, jake speeds up the pace, driving his length so deep it’s agonizing. “pretty pussy gripped me even tighter when i did this,” he backhands you this time and again, your walls contract, squeezing him so tight it makes him think you don’t wanna let go.

“are you a..” he starts, wracking his brain for the word used in a particularly violent porn clip he saw, split lip reopening when he smiles, “are you a painslut? like bein’ fucked open and slapped around, hm?”

you shake your head in denial, but jake’s having none of it. “yeah you fucking do, slut. say it. tell me you like this or i’ll do so much worse.”

“y-yes!” you all but scream, “yes i like it, jakey. i like it, i do, i do, i do! j-jus’ cum, ‘kay? fill me up, do it!”

god, jake really is stupid. you’re only agreeing and urging him to cum to get this over with but he seems to think you actually want him to cream your insides.

maybe you really do; if the way you wrap your legs around him are any indication.

his orgasm’s building with every drag of his impossibly thick cock, your body surrendering to him, forcibly used for his own pleasure and he presses his mouth to yours, his eyes shutting as your lips meet, your own wide open due to the taste of iron flooding your senses, a mess of spit and jake’s blood smearing onto your skin

he humps at you like a dog; desperate, sloppy, uncoordinated.

and although you hate to admit it, you can feel your own impending climax, not quite there but close. you need more; you need — oh fuck.

jake stills once he’s fucked into your womb, ropes of his thick, sticky cum painting you white and there’s so much, it feels neverending; despite the pain, despite the rough treatment you received and despite the fact that he did all of this without your consent; you cum.

you clamp around him tighter, if that were even possible, and pleasure makes your mind go blank. you try to block him out, unable to believe he did this and the fact that you came, but he makes it impossible.

how are you supposed to ignore jaeyun when two of his thick fingers join his cock inside of you after catching the globs of sperm that have dribbled out of you.

“said i’d fill you up,” he reminds you. “now i gotta make sure it sticks.”

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sukunasbow · 5 months ago

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riding virgin g!p jinx ; mdni

thinking about jinx being a whimpering and whining mess under you as you ride her through her first orgasm. your cunt clenches around her dick, milking her for everything she has left. “baby, sss’ too much.” she looks up at you with tears of overstimulation brimming in her eyes.

“you can take it. for me, yeah?” you smirk down at her, letting out a small moan as her cock twitches inside of you, massaging the gummy walls of your soaking pussy.

“yeah, yeah.” her eyebrows knit together in pleasure as she basks in the new, but amazing, feeling of her cock being hugged by your tight pussy for the first time. jinx has tried other methods of getting herself off, but nothing compares to the feeling of you.

“look how good you’re taking me. i’m so full.” every vein of her length rubs against your walls when you grind your hips, switching between back and forth motions to circular motions. “you feel so good, jinx.” you coo, grabbing her hand slowly bringing it to your lower stomach, “do you feel how deep you’re inside of me?”

her eyes flutter and she bites down on her lip. jinx feels herself getting closer to the edge when she presses her hand down on your stomach, obsessed with the feeling of her stuffing you full.

“you’re doing amazing.” you praise her. with a few more movements, you feel your own orgasm coming on, a knot in your stomach forming every time the tip of her cock hits your sweet spot. “let’s cum together, can you do that for me?” you look down at the blue haired girl, giving her a doe eyed look. jinx eagerly nods and you lean down slightly, kissing her forehead.

the way you lean down seems to perfectly massage her cock and without either of you realizing it, jinx is losing control, letting out a guttural moan. “mm’ah..gonna..” she cums inside of you, filling your pussy up with ropes of her seed. jinx’s juices leak outside of your hole, dripping down your inner thighs and leaving a sticky and glossy sheen on your skin. you sit back up, your lips parting as you stare down at her. jinx feels shame overtaking her at the fact that she came before you could, however, you just felt so good. “mm’ sorry.” she whimpers. her pink eyes are unable to meet yours.

“no need to apologize.” you coo, “you did so well.”

jinx brings her hands to your hips and grips your waist, “let me make you feel good, please..” she breathes out. “i have some ideas, i want to see you come undone.”

how could you decline an offer like that?

#not yet proof read #and here’s ur reminder to stay safe and protected :)#x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #arcane smut #jinx smut #fem reader #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #arcane fanfiction #jinx fanfic #jinx fanfiction #jinx x reader #jinx #jinx arcane #arcane

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sugurusladyknightt · 2 months ago

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➺ suguru x gn!reader

if you set a timer to nap suguru will absolutely sabotage you.

let me set the scene. you're getting comfortable laying on his chest his arms secured around you and your eyes closing with a content hum and then suddenly your like 'oh hold on' and grab your phone to set a timer then promptly explain that you have something to do so you don't wanna oversleep during your nap and end up losing time.

but you're so tired, he knows a short nap won't be enough rest though, he says nothing. you get comfortable on his chest again, your cheeks smooshed against his skin and doze off shortly after thanks to the soothing hand at your back and head and the warmth of his skin. when you're asleep this man will fully just grab your phone and cancel the timer, that way, you get all the rest your body needs undisturbed and wake up when your ready.

if it's assignments or notes or anything really that he can do for you, then he will do it for you. taking neat concise notes for you, or finishing up your research paper. no this is not a violation of academic integrity because you are his baby. you are his person and he is yours so to anyone else you may as well be the same person, and anyway he isn't plagiarizing or cheating. suguru does a really good job actually.

when you wake up later, dry eyes slowly blinking away the sleep and readjusting to the light. the skin of your cheek turned pink from how long it's been resting against him softly greeting him in a small raspy voice. when you wake up enough to realize the timer hadn't gone off and reach over to your phone to check the time, the sleep leaves you so fast. you're frenzied, panicked, confused. as if you've been splashed with cold water. suddenly awake and upset about all the time you had wasted what about the timer? how are you supposed to finish everything now?? only for you to find everything done and neatly organized for you to look over, anything with a tight deadline? already sent in.

oh. well.. now that you have nothing that urgently needs your attention (besides him) you can lay back down on his chest and continue where you left off 🙂‍↕️

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porkcutletbowl44 · 8 months ago

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WAIT WAIT LISTEN (nsfw btw)

What if ghost is disguised as a loser?

You would think he's a complete beginner like the rest of the team does. He doesn't ever talk to anyone, he avoids people like the plague and literally tells random people to fuck off no matter who they are he's just trying to mind his business with his two fingers of bourbon.

No one has ever seen him leave with a woman on his arm.

Jokingly—in all seriousness— you did ask him out to hook up, fully thinking you were his first, you were gonna give him the ride of his life even if he was a two pump chump and called quits his first orgasm by a real vagina.

And nobody would know, he's secretive enough on the clock and nobody has a clue what he does away from military work, so this would be your dirty secret; your little dream coming to life.

Only to your shock, he fucks you like he's trying to leave a imprint of your body into the mattress. Girthy cock dragging perfectly against all the right places, spearing through you over and over having your tongue brain dead.

Before you can even ask who the fuck are you and what have you done with ghost— he pulls out mid fuck to bury his face in your ass with massive globs on spit on his tongue, shaking your cheeks in his face like some kind of fucking porn star as he eats both from the back like an animal.

You're at a loss, and immensely (disappointed? Bewildered?) pleased that you just scored a night with a man of your dreams and he's apparently secretly good with your body for some reason... (And no, he does not let you leave. At all. You ain't leaving his flat and that's final.) ((Also congrats no one else will let him be as nasty as he is so he's definitely not letting go you're getting married next week you gotta match his freak))

#WHAT IF HE LIVE STREAMS IT TO THE TEAM AS PROOF AND—#*gunshots*#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #cod modern warfare #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon riley x you

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salemmoncler · 3 months ago

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katsuki bakugou LOVESSSS watching you cook, man.

—————————————————————————————————-

you’re in the kitchen lookin’ sexy as fuck. white tank top on with no bra, little black booty shorts, extra small knotless braids in a claw clip, messy edges, and the pink hello kitty apron he bought you for your birthday. he’s in heaven.

you’re cutting up tomatoes for your homemade tacos, and you’re just slowly swaying to the beat of diamond boy by sza playing lowly on the alexa, and he’s just staring.

you can feel him burning holes into the back of your skull, and maybe your ass. “stop staring at me, creep.” you tease, smiling at him from over your shoulder.

“i can’t look at my girl now? i’m just admiring the view, baby.” he says, getting up to stand behind you. long, muscular arms wrapping around your waist.

“mhm, sure,” you mumble lowly, still cutting.

“tacos smell good, just like you,” he murmurs, planting small kisses on your neck and shoulder.

you can feel your face get warm.

“katsuki, stop! you’re distracting me! sit down!” you say, pushing him off playfully.

“aw m’sorry baby, i just couldn’t help myself. you just look sooo pretty, mama,” he smirks, eyes trailing all over you.

“i know katsuki. thank you katsuki, you’ve said it 100 times already,” you smile, shaking your head. you take the small portion of cut tomatoes over to the tacos and sprinkle them on, as well with the shredded cheese and lettuce.

“food’s ready, love,” you say, bringing the tray with the tacos on it over to the island katsuki sitting at.

he looks at the food, then you, then the food again, then you again and gets up from the stool.

“boy, are you okay?” you say, looking at him with your eyebrow raised.

he puts his hands on your waist, pulls you closer, and gives you exactly 3 long kisses on the lips, moving down to your neck.

you sigh heavily.

“i don’t know… if i wanna eat these tacos…or you,” he says in between kisses.

“katsuki!” you yelp, pulling his head up.

“you’re so silly. i didn’t make these for no reason kat,” you pout.

he smiles softly, “mm, m’sorry baby, let’s eat,” he says leaning down to give you a peck on the lips.

“i can eat you after tho, right?” he GENUINELY asks.

you look at him for a second before doing a sighy-giggle.

“sure, katsuki. make sure you brush your teeth tho.”

“fuck yes!” he yells, making you jump. he grabs 2 plates from the cabinet and the tray of tacos and goes to the dining room.

that man is such a freak for your pretty ass, it’s insane.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #x black reader #black reader #bakugou x black reader #katsuki x black!reader #mha #mha x black reader #i love this man.#damn this is freaky #i just miss my man that’s all 💔#love you alll remember to drink water 🩶#sorry for any typos i’m anti proof read

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katsukimybf · 8 months ago

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bc all i think abt is college!katsuki

Katsuki Bakugou is the epitome of the type of friend where you don’t actually know if you are friends.

It started off slow and gradual; a head nod when you sat next to him in class for the first time. You didn’t think much of it at first—just Bakugou being Bakugou, cold and distant as can be. But then came the day the professor prompted the class to discuss the reading with the person next to you. Oh boy.

Distant caves would be jealous of him as he offered impressive silence. He sat there with his arms crossed, glaring at the textbook like it had personally offended him. You tried your best to speak about the text, feeling the weight of his weightless replies, and occasionally he’d grunt or nod, but the conversation resembled your middle school talent show performance. Awkward, yes, but not surprising for a college class.

Still, you found yourself sitting next to him every couple of days, the unspoken rules of college and assigned seating habits pulling you back into his orbit. You tried to be kind, offering small talk here and there, but Bakugou always brushed you off with a grunt or a glare. He was prickly, always on edge, and you figured that was just how he was.

You were like this too on most days. After having your fair share of college-creep experiences you laid off the whole talking to people bit. But there was this exception you made for Bakugou. Not an exception but a curiosity of some sorts. Hell, you also were never good at math but you were on edge to solve the missing variable that is Katsuki Bakugou. Seriously, what's his deal?

Maybe it was the way he didn’t care of how he seemed, it could be the mystery or maybe it was just the fact he looked like he was carved by Lysippos sitting by you at 9 a.m. lecture. Those thoughts were in the back of your mind… you even wonder if Bakugo is good at math? maybe then he could help.

But then there were these odd moments, moments where his usual gruffness gave way to something else. Like the day you mentioned how thirsty you were, sitting there in that old, sweltering classroom with no air conditioning. Bakugou rolled his eyes, muttered something about “are you always unprepared?” (he lent you a pen once before) but then wordlessly reached into his bag and handed you a water bottle.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to match his nonchalant demeanor. Trying to let it go.

But the gesture stuck with you. He didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t say anything more. He just went back to his notebook like nothing happened. Typical. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of slight butterflies in your stomach, even if you tried to brush them off as nothing.

Things continued in much the same way. Bakugou, still gruff and abrasive, but every now and then, something would slip through the cracks. A quiet moment of consideration, a begrudging act of kindness. He never let you get too close, but there was always that flicker of kindness. Of Bakugou. The real him, you think.

It was a rainy afternoon when you found yourself stranded at a bus stop with him. The two of you had just finished class, and the rain came out of nowhere, pouring down in quick splatters. You both stood under the narrow shelter that barely helped. Bakugou was glaring up like he was challenging the sky to a duel while his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

He didn’t acknowledge you at first. And you didn’t think he would.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standing out here,” he grumbled suddenly, his voice low and annoyed.

Before you could reply, he was already shrugging off his jacket and, without looking at you, shoved it in front of you. He urged you to take it but you blinked in surprise, not knowing how to react.

But then, you felt the weight of the jacket warm and heavy on your skin. The scent of him—something sharp and clean—lingered in the fabric.

“Bakugou, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up. I don’t need your thanks,” he muttered, not meeting your gaze. He chose to stare at the rain instead.

“Thank you.”

He rolled his eyes but from that moment, something shifted. The dynamic between you two wasn’t any less tense, and he still barked at you when you got on his nerves, but the hostility had softened, just a little. There was still sharpness in his words, but now mixed in with these brief, unexpected moments of kindness? (for Bakugou, normal for everyone else)

The day before your big exam, you sat next to him in class, anxiety buzzing in your stomach. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” you asked, peeking over at him.

“Yeah,” he grunted, eyes not leaving his textbook.

You turned back to your seat, mentally patting yourself on the back for initiating (yet another) pointless conversation. But then, after a pause, Bakugou spoke again.

“Wanna review the material after class?”

You blinked, a little caught off guard, but quickly nodded. “Sure.”

And so after class, he led the way to the library, not even waiting for you to catch up. He moved with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the room for a quiet, secluded spot. When he finally sat down and pulled out his notes, you were surprised to see how meticulously organized everything was—color-coded, labeled, every detail in its place. So he probably is good at math? You were definitely getting somewhere.

He started drilling you with questions, breaking down complicated concepts with a precision you hadn’t expected. His intensity was relentless, but it pushed you to focus, to work harder, and slowly, your understanding of the material started to click into place.

Hours passed in a blur, and the sun began to set outside the windows. The two of you were still going over definitions when Bakugou glanced over at you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile on your lips. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Good,” he muttered, turning back to his notes, but something about the way he said it felt less harsh than usual.

But all this time of him testing you made you want to test him. Probably because you suspected how sexy he’d look getting every question right…

You smirked, feeling a little bold. “Aw, not you caring if I understand the material.”

He shot you a glare and his face twitched like he was holding back a grin. “I don’t,” he snapped, though his tone lacked the usual bite.

“You just looked so damn scared earlier, it was pathetic.”

You faked a small gasp at that. He wanted to laugh.

“Aww, are you worried about me being sad?” you teased, leaning in a little closer. “It’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his face turning slightly red.

That’s not a no, you think. You laughed, the sound light in the quiet library, and for the first time, you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, barely there, but real.

Quaint and underneath all his surroundings lied Bakugou Katsuki. Almost as if he were labeled X in some math problem.

So yeah… he’s cold and mean and gruff, but… you know he has your back with exams… and when you’re cold, and when you say you're thirsty, and when you need something nice to look at. Definitely, Katsuki Bakugou is your friend…

That happens to have a massive crush on you.

(… and unashamedly, so do you.)

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theobservatory · 4 months ago

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｡⁠☆Loser Boyfriend｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠

☆Cw: one use of "her", Mina calls you girl once, embarrassment, fluff, humor, rookie!prohero!deku

"Izuku, dude, no offense, but how did you land that?"

Izuku turns to Denki, looking just as lost as he does. There's a little flush on his cheeks and a wide eyed expression on his face. The boy looks like a confused baby dear, which truly only adds to Denki's confusion.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Teach me your ways." Denki says, comically whipping out a notepad from his pants pocket. "Did you grovel? Cry? Feed her a love potion but disguise it as juice so that she would drink it, but have no clue what it was?"

"N-No of course not!... And I'm pretty sure that would be illegal anyway..."

Denki shrugs, "Hey I don't know your life. You could be into some weird shit on the down low, you seem the type!"

Izuku responds with an eye roll. If anyone 'seems the type' it's Mineta and Denki himself. They turn back towards you instead of continuing the conversation. You're still in the same position you were in before; fully leaned over the back of the couch, legs closed with one slightly hanging in the air, while the rest of you is inside Mina's personal space giggling at something she's showing you on her phone.

You're in some cute little outfit that Izuku helped you pick out, a rare case, since Izuku still wears almost exclusively punny t-shirts and sweats. The only reason he helped is because it's your first time meeting his friends and former classmates, you just wanted to make sure the outfit wasn't too little or too much. This is not to say he was much help.

Izuku feels almost entranced by you, and you're not even looking at him. You haven't glanced his way since Mina took your attention, actually. Izuku could start pouting if he wasn't too busy ogling your backside. He's so busy he misses the picture Denki snaps at the enraptured look on his face.

"C'mon man, let's go raid the snacks before Kaachan forces us to leave the kitchen."

Denki's arm around Izuku's shoulder shakes him out of his stupor and he nods in agreement, not really having heard what he said at all. He allows Denki to lead him to the kitchen with only minimal glancing behind his back, just to get a little more time to soak in your image.

But he doesn't expect your eyes to catch. He has no time to prepare for the heat in his pink cheeks to spread to his ears, no time to prepare for your smile to make his heart thump in his chest. It makes him lightly stumble in his steps and turn to face forward again, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

"Oh, Izu! Can you come back for just a sec?"

Izuku breaks out of Denki's hold with not a single lick of hesitation, embarrassment be damned. His world shortens and zooms in when you talk, the feeling of embarrassment, as well as Denki's voice, becomes muffled in the face of it. None of that matters if you're the one who needs him.

"Look at this picture Mina has of you!"

It's the picture All Might took of him before he bulked up. The one where he's dirty and sweating and crying after trying to haul a fridge across a beach. Izuku thinks he might die. Where did she even get that picture?

His face must say a lot, because both you and Mina burst out laughing. You're trying to reassure him, but you're laughing so hard you're struggling to gain a breath to string words together. If the floor swallowed Izuku whole right now, he would be grateful. It was a terrible idea to bring you to meet his classmates, especially a gossip like Mina.

"Oh, baby no, don't look like that!" You gasp, placing a hand on his shoulder. It's not nearly as comforting as you're trying to make it be.

"Izuku you look like a total loser, good thing you gained some muscle there, pipsqueak!" Mina chortles.

"Oh stop it! He doesn't look like a... Loser... I think it's cute!"

"Keep telling yourself that!"

Izuku has never considered the merits of getting hit by a bus before, now is a better time than ever to start.

Your arms wrap around him, and he instinctually hugs you back. You press your still smiling face into his chest, and turn towards Mina, still a little breathless.

"It's okay Izuku, I'll protect you from Mina's mean words." You giggle.

Mina is quick to start booing you, but Izuku doesn't miss the picture of him being sent to an unsaved number in her phone. Oh she's going to get it next time they spare together, and he will make absolutely sure it is soon. She doesn't get to run away from the enemy she has created today.

"Whose side are you even on, girl?" Mina huffs playfully, turning back to her phone and sitting back down on the couch.

The party goes smoothly after that, mostly because Izuku doesn't leave your side for the rest of the night. He refuses to let any of his other classmates show you blackmail. Even when you go to the bathroom he stands right outside the door, waiting for you to come back. At one point during the night Katsuki told him he looks like a stray puppy, and before he could deny it, you responded, "it's cute, part of his charm". He elected to ignore the way it made his chest puff out.

He likes to believe you think of him less as a puppy and more of a guard dog. He will not be confirming or denying this with you.

Before long, the party is over. Despite the little mishap with Mina earlier, he's satisfied. You were both fed well, and you very clearly had a good time with his friends, so he considers the night a success. He knew that you'd been nervous about the whole thing, his reassurances hadn't done much to sway you, but you had a great time. Just like he said you would.

As he's pulling the car out of the driveway, you turn to him, a mischievous smile spread across your face. Izuku hopes you don't notice how heavily he swallows when you look at him, your expression is making him nervous.

"Mina sent me that picture of you."

The car lurches as he slams on the brakes. "She gave you her phone number?! Noo she's gonna show you how much of a loser I am!" He whines, putting his head into the steering wheel.

"Izu, my love, you are a bonafide prohero who's about to hit the top 30 barely two years out of highschool, you are not a loser."

Izuku turns to you with a wobbly smile, forehead still lying on the steering wheel. "U-Uhm no, I totally am. Hero work aside."

You giggle, his heart stutters again.

"Well you're my loser then."

"Yours?" Izuku flushes.

"Mine."

And well, being a loser isn't so bad if it means he gets to be yours. Your boyfriend. Your guard dog. Your puppy. Your loser. Your anything. He can be anything, as long as he's yours.

Love men who are losers and very smitten for their sweethearts, what can I say

｡⁠☆Requests open

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ysaona · 7 months ago

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“One day I’m gonna ride in one of those things.” — powder (s1. ep1.)

#— ˚୨୧⋆｡ eves journal #this picture is from the end of act three.#PROOF JINX IS ALIVE.#lesbian #wlw #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #jinx smut #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #jinx fanart #jinx lol #jinx and isha #powder #powder arcane

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shouyuus · 6 months ago

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18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent - join the taglist

#⛈ monsoon season #this is my essay titled: SEE LOOK I CAN FIX HER HERE IS THE PROOF #♨ steamy #arcane #vi x reader #vi smut #arcane smut #wlw fanfic #arcane vi smut #vi x you #arcane x you #vi arcane fanfic #x reader #lesbian #to say this is self indulgent would be such a heinous understatement lol #but yes i can fix her just gimme a chaNCE I PROMISE I CAN DO IT GIMME #this started out as like a weird love letter to pitfighter!vi and also to zaun bc i do not think they get enough love (in the show)#and also i have a thing for the beauty in brutality and love as an all consuming obsession and both those things r tru in vi so #also like my toxic trait is actually absolutely wanting like fucking the JUMIN HAN equivalent of a lover like #yes be SO obsessed with me that you want to lock me in a cage be SO obsessed with me that i consume ur every waking thought

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