#so I'm gonna go out on s limb and say that it IS impossible for the average person.

[this-is-a-url]

Look at their legs and try to tell me they make any sense

[tojivu]

nightmares ⋆ nanami kento

an. my finals start in june i'm gonna explode yall

cw. sfw. gn!reader. kento has nightmares and he needs you

playing. oh my god by fog lake.

nanami's been getting more sleep ever since he left jujutsu tech and that shitty nine to five he used to slave at every damn day — along with the fact that he's able to spend more time with you. he likes to say that it helps him sleep, having you within arms reach (something that was extremely rare in the past, considering he had no time to rest).

kento thinks you resemble closely to a human sized pillow, and he often treats you as such. his arms are wrapped around your frame, one of his legs laying on top of yours — his chest rises and falls slowly, small snores leaving his lips — and you're thankful, very thankful; nanami was never able to sleep this soundly when you two lived in tokyo.

you try your best to push his heavy weighted figure away: you groan and complain that he's too big to be sharing this bed with you and that he should be sleeping on the floor instead. yet, you welcome him with open arms every night — pressing kisses to his forehead and running your fingers through his blonde hair.

you'd rather clingy and sleepy nanami who uses you as a personal bolster pillow in the night than sleepless nanami who locks himself away in his office, or exhausted nanami who drags his feet through the entrance of your home with bloodied limbs. it broke your heart more times than you could really count, seeing kento that way.

nanami kento saw his life flash before his eyes in shibuya, and all he could really pray for was to make it out alive so he could see you one last time — even if it were just for a few minutes. he clung desperately onto the last bit of energy and will he had in hopes of making it out alive; even if he was mutilated to a point beyond recognition, he needed to be with you. that was the only way he could let himself go — he would crawl back to your home if it meant he could kiss you one last time.

he never told you how long he'd be gone, or if he'd even come back at all: so you waited anxiously, refreshing news pages and watching the television every night for some sort of good. any sort of indication kento was okay.

he doesn't return home. you only see him when you rush down to the hospital they take him to — barely conscious, holding on to hope he didn't know he still had. nanami regains his full consciousness in the weeks following, the first thing he says being that he's done.

yes, nanami didn't want to risk it. never again.

it's 2 in the morning and you're unable to sleep, nanami's groans and sudden flinches are keeping you up.

"ken?"

the expression on his face is horrific — you feel the guilt wash over you like a wave, high and then crashing; so your fingers find his arms and you try your very best to shake the man awake.

your husband wakes up with a whimper; tired eyes almost brimming with tears at the fact that he is awake and you are real. his mouth is sealed, unable to utter a word, but the way his lips tremble tells you everything he cannot say.

"are you—"

soon, calloused fingers are gripping the flesh of your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. a nightmare, you can already tell: his hands feel clammy and his breathing is laboured.

"ken," you whisper. "'s okay. i'm here."

he sucks air through his teeth, trying to catch his breath. his body shudders at your touch as you graze over his skin — tracing circles on his bare back, your lips on his forehead. kento feels like he's about to cry, but he's not sure from what: at the fact that he had the worst dream of his life, or the fact that he's not dead and you're still here.

"'m s-sorry," he mutters. his voice is strained, still that deep and low tone that you're familiar with — but your heart still breaks as he apologises. "i'm sorry for waking you."

"don't be sorry," you comb your fingers through his hair using your free hand. "you know i don't mind it."

he sniffles and you yearn to hold him even tighter, but you think he would suffer broken ribs if you went through with that; so you settle for his head on your chest and your arms wrapped around his back.

"love you," nanami mumbles, voice getting softer and his grip looser — he feels his heart calm and his mind empty when you touch and hold him just like this. "i love you so much."

nanami wanted to be your protector. he hoped he would be for the remainder of his life — he likes to think he's doing a decent job at it now — but sometimes, it feels as though you are his; you fit awfully well to the title.

he supposes that's why he sleeps longer with you in the same bed as him; it's a peaceful thing knowing you're next to him if he has another bad dream, or if he feels cold and needs your warmth — or if he just wants to lay with you.

"i love you more, ken," you lulled, the tips of your fingernails scratching the skin of his trapezius; he recognises the heart shapes you trace on him. "get some rest."

"okay," he hums, his nose poking at your collarbones — his lips slowly leaving trails of kisses along them. "goodnight, darling."

your lips curl into a smile almost instinctively and you think it's embarassing, but it's much too dark for kento to see you blush at the name he calls you. you're thankful.

"goodnight, baby."

he's thankful that it's close to pitch dark, as well — kento thinks you can't see the smile he has on his face — but what he doesn't realise that you can feel him on your skin; feel the way his cheeks puff and his lips form the small smile you are so familiar with.

090124 — happy new years Tartaglieo fandom my gcse's are upcoming.

[worstghost]

No rush but I can wait see reader suffer from ghost teasing. I feel he type to literally walk to quietly and like say boo them and scream murder.

Or better training session this happen and reader holy shit your strong put me down you bully.

https://twitter.com/issamanga5/status/1589775707877801985?t=9BWyflaqwOySIFfVqpb_Pw&s=19

I have returned and I love ghost I love ghost I'm going insane rn. I went kinda crazy with this one and it's not really what the ask wanted but uhh yeah. I'm not gonna deny inspiration when it comes

You're new-to them at least, not new to this dynamic. Your entire career in the military has been spent around men. Men who avoid your gaze, men who pretend like you don't exist, or even worse, are obsessed with you. Men who follow you around and dote on you and act like you're made of glass. You've dealt with your fair share of big, intimidating men who pretend to be small, to be kind and like they're looking out for you.

Hell, even Soap shrinks down when he talks to you. Gets to your eye level as if it's not fucking insulting to be treated like that. You deserved to be here just as much as them, maybe even more so with how hard you've had to work.

That's why Ghost is such a breath of fresh air. He doesn't dote, he doesn't take it easy on you. He expects you to keep up with them, and you do.

It's created this awful need in you to please him, to prove to him that you are what he thinks you are. As much as you try to hide it, you search for his eyes, his approval, when you're training.

And he is always there, always watching you. He looks like an apex predator, head leaned back against the wall, arms crossed so that his biceps squeeze against the sleeves of his shirt. His face doesn't move ever, but his eyes look down through thick blonde lashes, following your every movement as you spar, as you stretch out after a particularly hard session with Soap.

Soap makes snide little comments, asking if he was too rough, if he pushed you too far. It's all in good fun but your blood absolutely boils. You bite your tongue and turn away, stretching your arms above your head and counting to ten, feeling the tension in your muscles release.

Soap finally fucks off, slapping Ghost on the shoulder as he leaves.

"Warmed her up for you, Lt."

Ghost exhales, barely noticeable. Irritated.

You're still on the mat, rolling your ankles and pretending like you're not really fucking sore. You can feel him watching and turn away, squatting down to stretch your hamstrings.

Silently, a shadow falls over you and you startle slightly. How is someone so big, so quiet.

"You could have done better." It's short and gruff, a fact.

You lean your head back, squinting up at him. God he's big. Sitting on the floor barely brings you to his knees.

"Just wanted it to be over I guess." You shrug it off and roll your neck side to side, wincing at the tightness in your shoulders.

His chest rises with a deep inhale, shadow growing as he moves even closer. "If he gets under your skin so much, why not show him?"

"I'm afraid I'd do permanent damage."

Ghost huffs out a laugh and your heart swells, your head cheers, 'You made him laugh, good job!'

It's so stupid, you're embarrassed at your own thoughts.

"Take it out on me then."

That stops your little self aware moment and your eyes jump to his. He's still standing over you, already watching your face, waiting for a falter in your expression.

"I can handle a lot more than him. Show me how mad he makes you." It's a challenge, a little teasing.

You swallow hard. You haven't had the chance to spar with Ghost yet. He's much too big, you know you wouldn't recover easily. And your little crush makes it impossible to be that close to him. But what were you going to do, say no? Worst case is he beats your ass and you can use the ensuing embarrassment to get over him.

You nod and stand up, shaking out the anxiety in your limbs.

"Just don't kill me please, I've still got a lot of life to live." You try to lighten the mood, taking your place at the other side of the mat.

He looks like he's thinking about it, the wrinkles around his eyes a little tighter. A smile maybe?

When you start, you circle with him, trying in vain to determine where he's going with his. With the mask you can't see anything and his eyes never move from yours, no intention of giving anything away. You decide that he won't make the first move, so you do, using your size difference to get under his arm and behind him. You've no doubt that he let you do that.

You exchange shoves, he let's you get in a few punches, but it's mostly a dance. He never makes the first move, he waits for you to come to him every time.

You're wearing yourself out now, and he's not showing an ounce of exhaustion. You're ready to give up, tired and even more frustrated than before you started.

One last fuck it move and you wrap yourself around his side, kicking his knee out from under him. He falls, and for a brief moment you're reveling in your success, but it's cut short when he snatches your arm as he goes, rolling on to his back and pulling you with him.

Ghost has you flat against him, back to his chest, one arm wrapped around your middle and the other threatening your throat.

There's no getting out of this is there?

You dig your fingers in to his forearm and feel him tighten, like a boa. Fuck. You inhale and frantically decide to at least try to struggle, pretend like you didn't give up 20 minutes ago.

You wriggle back and forth, kicking your legs, trying to loosen his grip even slightly. He's way too heavy for you to try to turn him over and his arm pushes your chin up even higher, you can feel his breath on your cheek through the mask, it's heavy and quick.

Is he really winded or is he simply pretending to help your ego.

Swallowing as best you can, you pause and lower your legs between his, feeling his heart pound against your back. Maybe now would be the time to tap out but it doesn't cross your mind. You're overwhelmed with the sensation of his arm squeezing your chest, right under the band of your sports bra, the way he slides the other across your throat until just his fingers touch you, hand covering your entire neck.

You're light-headed, your ears are only filled with the sound of two heartbeats, pounding together in a quick rhythm.

Fuck.

Ghosts knees frame your legs, trying so desperately not to fall completely against him, scared that if you do you'll feel something you're not supposed to. Something you really want to.

His arms relax abruptly and you suck in a breath you didn't know you were holding. He releases you, not subtle in the way his fingers run across your skin.

You roll away and gather yourself on your knees next to him, you're on fire, all you can think about is his hands, his breath, his arms squeezing you to him.

This didn't decompress you like he had wanted. It actually did the opposite. You're so worked up now, head swimming, you don't even stand when he does.

Ghost offers you a hand and you take it, hot and calloused. When he stands you up on shaky legs you stumble, just a little, and he catches you against his side.

"You'll continue to train with me for now. Go clean up. " His voice has something unrecognizable in it, a gruffness to his command.

You don't argue and let him go, making your way out and to the shower in your room.

[silvercap]

winter is coming, so, may i ask for -

🌨️ Stuck in cold weather - with Leon (but of course not alone)

(anonymously, because - funny thing - i'm still not sure what i'm doing here, knowing nothing about this universe, but enjoying local whump soo much <3 )

I'm glad you're liking it!!!! So sorry this took me forever to write but here you go <333

🌨️ Stuck in Cold Weather

Leon shudders against the icy winter wind, frigid river water trailing down his back and freezing his hair into icicles against his cheek. He stumbles, blinking to clear the haze in his vision as he struggles to keep himself upright. There's a voice in his ear---Chris, he thinks, those familiar warm tones rumbling worriedly at him---but he can't make out what the words are saying, too focused on the fact that he can't quite coordinate his limbs. His thighs feel like they're being pricked with thousands of needles through the heavy fabric of his frozen jeans, the skin alight with a ghostly cold flame. The hood of his drenched winter jacket does little to block the whipping gale as it rips into his cheeks, the muscles of his face as numb and unwieldy as his hands and feet. They feel a bit like elastic bands that haven't been stretched, the resistance of movement made more difficult by the unrelenting cold that digs its way into Leon's very bones.

Time stretches and blurs as he stumbles aimlessly through snowdrifts, a vast expanse of white that flickers and blurs when he tries to make sense of where he is. Does it even matter? Chris says something in his ear and Leon laughs, a bubble of euphoria popping in his chest at the sound of it. God, he loves Chris. Leon turns to look for him and frowns when he can't find him at Leon's shoulder, the heavy winter coat weighing him down when he tries to angle his neck correctly. Speaking of which, it's hot, too, the oppressive fabric trapping the heat so close to Leon's body that he feels like he's drowning in fire. He needs to take it off. Now, before he overheats.

"Chris," he slurs into the air, whatever he'd been about to say disappearing under the relief of cool air when he finally manages to unzip the jacket. He sighs, letting the coat drop. Won't need that anymore, not with how warm he is. The breeze is soothing on his skin, and Leon blinks sleepily, yawning. He's so tired all of a sudden, but something tells him he shouldn't take a break. But why not? His thoughts are washed away by another cold wave of heat, and he stumbles, eyes closing against the dizziness.

"Leon?" Loud voices break through his reverie, and Leon blinks hazily awake to find himself on his back, Chris's face hovering above him. His eyes are wide, and Leon frowns.

"What's wrong?" he tries to ask, but it comes out in a mumble. He can't move his arms. Someone else is talking, a steady stream of jumbling syllables he can't make sense of, and Leon groans. What the hell is happening? Something heavy wraps around him, the world dissolving into a blank expanse of white. He finds himself looking at the underside of Chris's unshaven jaw a moment later, his familiar dark hair tucked under a wool hat and the hood of a fluffy parka. It makes him look like a teddy bear, and Leon laughs.

"You're okay," Chris murmurs, glancing down with glassy eyes, and Leon does his best to smile. "We're gonna get you out of here, okay? Try to stay awake."

"Y'look like a---like a bear," Leon tries, but Chris just looks even more concerned. The words seem to float around Leon's head like cartoon stars, bumping the inside of his skull as they flutter away into nothingness. What was he saying? He can't breathe right, chest too tight and so cold it leaves him without air. He groans, and Chris tucks him impossibly closer, the heat of his body burning like ice against Leon's shoulder. Leon laughs. " 's cute."

He blacks out.

[lily-orchard]

In all your discussions about SU, you never talk about the music. Why?

It was never worth talking about.

I know Cartoon Fandom makes a big deal whenever a musical number exists, but I always found the music in SU to be extremely lacking, and unsurprisingly so, to the point I've always found it strange that the movie was a musical.

One problem the music has, that I personally find unexcusable for any project that claims to be super into music, is the lack of melodies. The vast majority of the soundtrack is club beats, electronica, and the occasional discordant piano theme (mostly for Pearl). About the only real melody the show has is in the main theme, which is also Steven's motif (how 'bout that?)

It's only in actually sung musical numbers where a melody exists entirely because it's impossible to sing without one. Like, think about the tune you think of when you think "Stronger Than You" and then go find the actual instrumentals. They are nothing alike.

And I understand if you like Hip Hop or Electronica, but if that's all your soundtrack is everything starts to be very samey very quickly.

Hell the big song everyone hypes up, Other Friends, supposedly draws influence from Ragtime, but once again it actually sounds like what a DJ imagined it might have sound like. Other Friends should have had a piano.

There's a cover out there of Other Friends done as it should have been done. And of course, the melody created by the singer has to be incorporated as well because the song itself once again doesn't have one. Like, if you say "We're gonna pay homage to Rubberhose animation and the aesthetic of the 1920's" then it would be nice if you... ya know... actually do it.

Hell, Spinel has a boring anime Marluxia scythe when she should have had a big wooden mallet and been entirely in grayscale. Perhaps crackling like old film grain because... I dunno, her gem is cracked or something? Even their "homage" to rubberhose animation only gets as far as stretchy limbs and nothing else.

But now I'm talking about art direction. But it's all connected. Part of why Steven Universe struggles so much is the executive producer has all the confidence combined with lack of skill of John Romero, JK Rowling or Tommy Wiseau.

I just never saw any value in talking about it, because I was just going to say the same thing I said about every other aspect of the show. The entire show always felt like somebody was trying to make the animation they imagined in their head while listening to music, and nothing else.

[xzho-writes]

LATE AS HELL 500 FOLLOWER PRESENT IS HERE!!!

Sorry it makes absolutely no sense, it's 2am and ive been awake since 5am-

I'm tired but I'm not gonna sleep hehe-

~~~~

You entered the tavern, the scent of alcohol entered the atmosphere, as you looked at Charles with tired eyes. You scanned the lower floor, and concluded it safe.

You made your way to the bar, as the loud conversations deafened out with every sip of your dandelion wine that you took. Charles looked at you with concern, but before he could say a word, you already started.

"(Boss) is being so unfair. The most sexist person I've ever met--"

Charles tried to speak again. "What happen-"

"This dumbass made me kill multiple hilichurl camps, but didn't provide me anything but a goddamn sword. No armour, no food- just a wooden. Sword. Then he told me I was so WEAK for a (Gender)!"

"My body hurts like hell..." You sunk your head onto the table, one hand supporting your head and the other grasping the drink.

You looked up at the empty glass, and shifted it to Charles. "More please."

You finished glass after glass, until your hands cramped. "More pl-" You got cut off, "We're out."

"Of what?"

"Dandelion wine-- you finished the last 4 bottles." You looked at Charles. "Oh." You sat in silence for a second. "Death after noon then, please." You hiccuped.

The scars were visible throughout your body, and as the crowd started to leave, more complaints about your boss arose. "And then (they)-" *hic* "called my gender 'dumb'!"

Charles looked at you concerningly. "I think I need to go to the restroom, one- *hic* second." You rose up, and stumbled to the (your gender)s bathroom.

Charles scanned the place, most of the crowd had left. But one thing caught his eye--

His boss.

Diluc's eyes were following your drunk figure with every step you took, and when you were finally gone, he turned to a man sitting on the same table as him. "Please excuse me.".

He stood up, making his way to the bar. "How many bottles of dandelion wine and death after noons did they take?" He asked Charles, who every now and then glanced at the restroom door.

"4 Dandelion Wines and... 2 Death After Noons." (Yes ik it is physically impossible to digest so much alcohol, especially strong ones, BUT LET IT BE ITS 1:30AM HERE IM TIRED.)

"2...?-" He stood in a bit of disbelief, before continuing. "How long has this been going on?"

"Every night when you're busy or not working sir they get even worse than this, and ever since they started the job...-" Charles stopped, waiting for a reply, when he didn't get one, he continued. "They've never told you because they thought you'd have even more stress on your shoulders, and didn't want to trouble you with their problems."

Diluc sighed as the restroom door creaked open, and you saw him. You guys locked eyes as you tried to do your most stable walk towards him. "Hel-" *hic* "-lo Diluc, i thought you weren't working today?--"

"Drop the act, I've been here since you entered, (Name.)" He said, (ik it's a bit cold but pls-) "Anything you need to tell me?"

More customers had left the tavern, and the man was still sitting on the table, counting money.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before- I didn't want to trouble you, and I'm sorry for not confronting you or my boss about- *hic* it."

"You're surprisingly quite sober for someone who's had 2 bottles of Death After Noons..-" Diluc said.

The man sitting on the table as he saw you and Dilucs hands intertwined together, and quickly understood. He stood up to get out, but you whispered in Dilucs ear and he was already off.

"Dont 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 come near me, my lover, or my tavern ever again."

Let's just say, he didn't have the limbs to.

~~~~

-🥀

oh 🥀 nonnie……..

thank you so much for spending your time on this for me! although you really didn’t have to it makes me happy that you did. i’d love to have as high an alcohol tolerance as reader did though 😂 i had some soju yesterday cause of a friend’s bday and i was oUTTT ALNXAKJDNDNAN

oh to have a diluc ready to defend you at any slight whisper of trouble 😭 i hope nobody here has had to face this issue irl before, i can only imagine how draining it must be to go through such a thing

thank you again for this 🥀 nonnie! the present was very much appreciated :)

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Number 14 for the bed sharing please?

Thank you, @fastandfeminist!

14. we're snowed in and there is not a lot of space and heat

I'm gonna go with Joel for this one, I think, because he seems to fit the best. Hope you like it!

There is only one bed. Implied coitus.

The wind picked up by while you did your rounds, and the snow was coming down like a thick wall of icy white. Attempting to return seemed impossible, not to mention perilous, so when Joel told you, in a yell to be heard over the storm, that there was a cabin nearby where you could seek shelter, you were all too happy to comply.

"Cabin" was a very generous word for the ramshackle, barely held together, pile of logs with a partly caved in roof. There was, however, some shelter to be had, even if the walls seemed to be made of cracks through which the wind pushed in.

"We inspected this in the fall," Joel grumbles as he brushes the snow off his parka. "It was okay then."

"It's enough for one night," you sniffle as the cold has made your nose run. The back of the cabin is collapsed, but the front room is mostly unharmed. There's a table, a couple of chairs, and a bedframe for one. Joel is moving towards the fallen roof beams and pushes against one. It doesn't budge.

"Well, bad news is that firewood was in the back room. Good news is that I don't think that the rest of the roof is gonna come down on us tonight."

He shoots you a dry grin, but you can see that he's concerned.

"We'll be okay," you shrug. "At least it's safe and dry."

Safe from infected it might be, and somewhat dry, but you realize very quickly that it's definitely not warm. There are no blankets, sheets, or anything, and once your body starts to cool down from the exertions of wading through the snow, you're beginning to shiver despite your parka.

"Try and get some shut-eye," Joel suggests as he sits down on one of the rickety chairs and gestures towards the bare bed. "I'll keep watch."

"I'm too amped up to sleep."

"You won't be for long, trust me."

He's right, and soon you're nodding off in your curled-up seated position against the wall. You're worn out, the fatigue pulling you down and under, but your shivering muscles are still keeping you awake. The cabin is pitch black, and with the wind howling outside of it you can't tell if Joel is awake or not, until you hear his voice.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

The chair legs scrape against the wooden floor and you hear his heavy, booted steps take the couple of steps from the table to the bed. The darkness moves as he sits down next to you, and you hear him unzip his parka.

"Take your jacket off."

"Wha'?" You're already so cold that you're slurring, or maybe it's the exhaustion that makes you unable to form words properly.

"Take it off."

"'s cold!"

"Skin to skin works best. We'll use the jackets as blankets."

You find yourself huddled up in his arms, his chest surprisingly warm, his legs twined with yours, the jackets covering your torsos as best they can. You're not naked, but he's in his flannel and you're in a t-shirt, your wool sweater draped over your shoulders. Slowly, his body heat seeps over into your limbs, and you stop shaking. Still, your body is stiff, and you're wide awake.

You have never been so close to him before.

You have wanted to be this close to him for a very long time.

You can smell his sweat mixed with pine, crisp and fresh, like a forest lake on a fall morning when the dew lies heavy over still waters. He doesn't move, except for a ligh rise and fall of his chest, yet you sense there is as much going on underneath the surface as there is within you. You can barely breathe for fear of breaking whatever spell it is that has you so securely wrapped in his strong arms.

You want to say something, tell him that even though the conditions aren't exactly ideal, you're happy you're here, with him. Or just tell him that he's warm. He feels safe. He makes your heart jolt.

You don't. You try to sleep instead, finding it impossible. You're beginning to feel uncomfortable and want to change positions, but you're unwilling to move. The wind is still howling outside, the air around you is cold, but underneath your jackets, so close to Joel, it's warm.

He was right about skin to skin, but what really warms you up is when he finally kisses you. And what happens after that keeps you warm for the rest of the night.

Finally, you sleep better than you ever have before.

[0idril0]

Ohhh how about 'water torture' for the BTHB card? I love your writing and I'm so excited to see what you do with this. -S

Sorry it took me so long! But here it is! Overdose and Pinned to the wall have also been requested, but i forgot to update my photo D: This one is also a little on the shorter side, work has been super busy lately so i haven’t had time to write. Catch the series here, part 16 is up.

My lovely beta readers @whumpywhumper & @captivity-whump

Requestee: @straight-to-the-pain

@whumpitywhumpwhump @genesissane @voidwhump @imagination1reality0 @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doityourselfbombs @whumptywhumpdump

“Good boy.”

Nico shuddered at the praise, trying to reject it. His back burned. Every inhale forcing the ripped and swollen skin to stretch, a wet wheeze articulating his struggle. He couldn’t keep his head up, toes no longer fighting for purchase on the slick floor.

Fingers carded through his hair gently. Playing with the strands above the blindfold before tracing his hairline. “You tried so hard, didn't you? But you just couldn’t help it. It’s human nature, the fight for survival above all else.”

The light touch moved down his throat to his chest, making his quivering muscles jump, fear of new pain making him shake more. His hitched breaths burned in his throat, the taste of his blood more nauseating than ever.

“Don’t you see how dangerous you could be to them now?”

He couldn’t stop the hitching sobs as he nodded. “I-I’m... I’m s-sorry....”

The Boss hushed him, cupping his cheeks as he wiped at the blood dribbling down his lips. “I know. I know you are pet. You want to be good, right?”

“I- I wan... wan’ be ‘ood...” Shame coursed through him as his head bobbed in the Boss’s palms. Why’d he do it? He could’ve taken more. He didn’t have to tell them about Kristy. “‘Lease.... want to go home...”

“Oh don’t worry Pet, you’re going to go home.” The mans voice was soft, almost kind as it fed Nico a little bit of hope. “But we have to make you good first, don’t we? And to do that you need to be punished.”

Horror surged through him and he felt his heart stutter. He’d promised the pain would stop. “N-n-n-no... you..”

The Boss shushed him again, pushing a slender finger against his quivering lips. “Shh. I know Pet, but this isn’t to bring you pain. It’s to make you better, to make you good. Because Pet, you were very loud.”

“No..no...please....” His toes slid on the blood spattered concrete, sending spikes of pain through his mangled back.

The slender hand was replaced, a greasy palm clamping around his swollen lips, squeezing his cheeks. “What’d he say Love? You’re being too loud.”

The chains stopped supporting him, the Irishman’s other arm wrapping around his waist, crushing his mangled back against the stocky body before his knees hit the ground. He let out a muffled shriek into the man's hand, world fading in a flash of white hot pain—

Feet and shins sliding across concrete. Agony in his arms as he’s dragged—

—Roaring water, his face pressed against moist concrete. Pain in his hair and back as he’s pulled to his knees—

A harsh slap pulled him out of the half consciousness, a ragged groan joining the sound of water in his ringing ears.

A chuckle, and he keened as the grip on his hair shifted, pulling strands as another hand shoved between his raw shoulders. Shards of ice struck his bruised face, liquid invading his mouth to cut off his scream. The liquid burned his eyes and sinuses, what little air he’d had rushing from his mouth in a flurry of bubbles.

Thrashing, the water surged over him, submerging the bleeding welts on shoulders and back. He pushed against the bottom of the water container, too weak to find enough purchase to fight.

The hand in his hair brought him back up, pulling a chunk out from the roots as he choked and sputtered, the taste of salt thick in his mouth. “Salt water Love, gotta clean those cuts out good, don’t we? Make the lesson stick.”

The Irishman pushed him back under and he couldn’t help the instinctive gasp at the sudden change in temperature, making him inhale more water as his feverish skin was immersed in the freezing water again. His back burned as the salt water ate into the cuts, forcing the muscles to jump from the chemical stimulation.

The hand pulled him up by the throat, squeezing the cartilage as he was lifted off his knees. He clawed at the grip, the pressure from it making it impossible to cough. The salty water desiccating his lungs before he was shoved down again, knees slamming into concrete.

Nico retched as he was hauled out of the water, snot and blood stained water pouring from his face, mouth stretched trying to drag in air, lungs burning. “Gnnoo—gnooo mmm—“

The meaty hand wrenched his head backwards, lips brushing against his ear headless of his thrashing. “What was that Love? Hadn’t had enough yet?”

Water engulfed him, pulling strength away again and again, muscles twitching as they burned under the combined onslaught of the whip wounds and salt water. He couldn’t think past his next breath, lungs incapable of fully expanding through the punishment.

He stopped fighting as he was forced down, too focused on trying to inhale through his burning throat. Ice chunks surged into his lungs, cutting the soft tissues.

The thud of his heart echoed around him as he went slack, body too heavy to move, feeling fading into numbness—

—Heavy weight settled in his chest, water burning his eyes and nostrils as something heavy pushed into his chest-again?Gagging, Nico struggled to bring air through his abraded airway. A wheezing whistle preceded a slurry of bile and blood tinged water before he was shoved onto his side, a heavy hand concussing his flank as he coughed.

He mewled, convulsing as he heaved with sickness and pain.

“Hush now Pet, I’d hate to have to punish you again.”

Nico flinched as the voice registered in his waterlogged ears, pulling away from the slender hand that had come up to stroke his shoulders as they shook.

“Shhh. The punishments over now, you’re good. We made you good. You’ve started to learn so well Pet, just remember your rules and we won’t have to punish you.” The Boss’s slender hands traced the whip marks on his back, sending jolts of static through him as the magic stopped the steady trickle of blood.

Nico surrendered his limbs to the concrete beneath him, shivering violently. He never wanted to move again. He wanted to lay on the ice cold concrete and never wake up.

“Come on now Love, back to your room.” The Irishman jerked him up by his arms, throwing him over a thick shoulder. Nico gasped as his injuries were jostled, his broken ribs crunching against the man's shoulder sickly.

He didn’t make a sound.

[heroesarelife]

Could I request for a scenario/imagine of Aizawa finding out his s/o's b-day is a few days after his? Like Hizashi was asking what he was gonna do his s/o b-day. Aizawa asked why did he asked all of a sudden. Hizashi deadpan that their b-day is on the 13 November. Just 5 days after his. What would Aizawa do after knowing their b-day? Sorry if this is too self-indulgent. My b-day is at 13 November so I'm really excited and I love how close both our birthdays are since he's one of my favourites

YEEEEET HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATE! (I will cal you uuuuh 13-non? I am so not creative with anon names i’m so sorry)

I am so sorry this gotten so long omg. My preference for aizawa is showing.

Word count: 1834

Warning: Too much fluff, risk for diabetes ahead.

To describe what he was currently feeling as tired would have been an understatement.Exhaustion filled his bones and joints with surgical precision; heavy ironsattached to his ankles and wrists, weighting his every step and tampering hismovements. Any and all sensations numbed, turning them into nothing but faintexperiences, too distant to feel real. He had work to do. A lot of it. A hellof too much of it for all he was worth.

“E…ser!”

He had approximately two whole stacks of papers to grade andexactly null disposition to do so. However, such was the life of an adult. 30years old as of yesterday, no celebration allowed. With a heavy sigh, Shoutatook the first paper of the bundle, exhaling his entire soul upon seeingKaminari’s anarchist handwriting. This one promised to be a train wreck. Hecould feel the beginnings of a migraine creeping in on him; not that his friendseemed to care about making it worse.

“Oy, Eraser!”

Grunting in what could pass off as a sound ofacknowledgement, he attempted to ignore Mic’s strident voice. He couldn’t catcha break.

“Eraser, say. You have time to karaoke this weekend?”Midnight’s velvet voice reached his ear, with its ever present mischievousundertone. Aizawa failed to answer, running his eyes again through the paper.He must have made a mistake. Having a negative grade was impossible to achieve,even for one with such an outstanding capacity for failing exams as Kaminari.

“I’m saying he probably has plans for [Name]’s birthday.” Micwhined, sighing much more audibly than strictly necessary. Right there, he hadmarked one of the questions incorrectly. Not that this would help the boy’s caseovermuch. Maybe if he offered lessons… Wait just a second.

“Birthday?” Shouta finally raised his head in something of asurprise, only to squint angrily at the cigarette between Mic’s fingers. “Takeyour shitty smoking outside.”

“[Name]’s birthday is this weekend. You know, your s/o.” Notabashed in the slightest, the other hero placed the cigarette behind his own ear,seemingly happy enough with himself. “Aren’t you going to celebrate with them?”he smiled up at Shouta, somewhat wickedly, obviously having noticed that he hadforgotten. Damn it. It had completely slipped his mind. What, between thegeneral consistency of his fatigated state and his personal disregard of hisown birthday, he had failed to notice that theirs was nothing less than 5 daysaway. No, correction: 4 days away. Well, shit.

That explained why they had made a point of telling him,with all airs of importance, that they had no plans for that weekend. Despitehim not having asked them. Things suddenly clicked in his brain and he pressedhis fingers to his eyes, feeling like a dumbass. Of course they were expectingsomething. And he had forgotten.

“Hey, no worries, Eraser!” Mic’s overly excited voicestormed his eardrums, much too close for comfort, as he felt his friend’s armrest amicably on his shoulders. “You still have 4 days to think of something.”

“Shut up.”

—-

The light is what wakes them up. Eyelids fluttering gentlyopen, they look around in confusion, still slightly lost on the dense mist ofsleep. The telltale way in which the sunlight filtered through the room, withalmost devastating clarity, gave away exactly how much they had overslept. Itshould be almost noon at that point. All heavy limbs and fuzzy mind, theystretch languidly, revelling on the soft feel of the sheets tangled aroundtheir body. Trying to pretend the absence of Shouta didn’t bring sadness totheir heart.

Because it did, more than what they cared to admit. Thespace besides them was empty and cold, which by itself felt like a ratherlonely birthday gift. Shouta probably left for work, on a Saturday of all days.At this point, they were convinced that he had forgotten. They could all buthear their own heart breaking just by remembering last night. How they hadwaited awake, because they enjoyed to just wait for the clock to turn midnightso they could just welcome their special day. And how Shouta had arrived frompatrol shortly after, only to promptly collapse in bed, absolutely oblivious asfor what reason his s/o would be excited at such a late hour. Not even a modest‘happy birthday’ before falling into a deep slumber. Nothing.

Already drained of all the possible excitement they mighthave felt for the day to come, they get up slowly, staggering into the livingroom in a daze. At the exact same time as Shouta came in through the front door.He scoffed in half amusement, apparently finding something funny in their dishevelledappearance. “Sleeping much? Sit you down, sleepyhead. I will press some coffeefor you.” He jested through his customary sarcastic demeanour.

Huffing irritably, they sat down on the couch, tellingthemselves that it was absolutely notbecause he told them to, but rather because they still felt just too dizzy fromexcess of sleep. Yes, that was it. As it was, they almost jumped out of theirskin when something suddenly fell unceremoniously onto their lap. A small box.

They looked up at the culprit, namely Shouta, who was nowplacing a hot mug of coffee on the side table, looking as unfazed as always.Feeling their hearts swell with renewed and bright hope, they opened the smallgift. Inside there was the new album of one of their favourite bands, accompaniedby a sweet note signed with the flashy handwriting unmistakably belonging toPresent Mic. The disappointment was so strong that they could swear they heardthey heart die a little bit, almost like a wounded animal attacked by surpriseby a hunter in the woods. Fatal injury. It wasn’t Shouta’s. He had trulyforgotten.

“It’s from Hizashi” their boyfriend explained, rather unnecessarily.Acquiescing silently, they bit down their lower lip, fighting back the sillytears that threatened to spill. It’s not that they weren’t glad with Hizashi’s thoughtfulgift – it’s true that they had been blabbing about that musician nonstop forthe last few months – but it hurt them so to know their own boyfriend would soblatantly overlook their birthday. And he must know at this point, surely. But the cold disregard and lack of acknowledgementfelt a bit much at this point. They sniffed, lightly but still more audiblythan they had intended, and they heard Shouta clicking his tongue, as a clearshow of his own discomfort.

They heard the shuffling sound of clothes and the faintingsteps as Shouta walked away. Well, great. The day was going downhill barely 30minutes since waking up. It was a talent of theirs, apparently. Maybe they shouldput it on their CV and get a job as a day-destroyer, as they were clearly inwrong profession.

Absorbed in their thought, they didn’t hear he come back,and were snapped out of their thoughts by the deep sound of his voice. “I alsodon’t have any plans for the weekend.” Even through their upset haze, hesounded a bit awkward.

Surprised, they raised their eyes to meet his, not quiteunderstanding where this was going. He was sitting on the couch’s armrest.Close enough to be touched if they so much desired, while still giving themenough breathing space. He placed his hand behind his neck, scratching the areaas if in embarrassment, somehow managing to further mess his already sloppylocks.

“What I mean is…” he went on, taking a deep breath as iflooking to gather himself. “I took the weekend off. To spend with you.”

It took some seconds for the information to sink in. Theirheart behaving wearily in fear of further disappointment. But this was a verbaladmission. He had freed his days, to spend only with them.

“So we can do whatever you like. I know it’s not ideal andnothing much but—”

“You remembered.” They croaked, stupidly emotional over thesimple conclusion. Shouta’s eyes widened, and pressed his lips together,letting his hand drop to his lap in some sort of defeat.

“I had… In truth, I had forgotten. Hizashi reminded me.” Headmitted, voice dropping ever-so-slightly to what could be described as anabashed tone. “I’m sorry. I—” He was suddenly interrupted by a soft and muffled‘meow’ which came from some location within his person.

Their mouth fell open, in an almost comical surprise. “Isthat a…?”

Had they not known any better, they would have sworn that thechange of tone in his cheeks was that of an embarrassed flush. However, Shoutamost certainly didn’t do blushing, so it was probably a result of roomtemperature. Right? Right. Despite that, their boyfriend reached somewhereinside the coat he was wearing, revealing the most cute, fluffy, and small kittenthey had ever laid their eyes upon.

Unable to suppress an enthusiastic squeak, as well as thebeautiful warm feeling that began to spread through their heart and stomach,they stretched their hands eagerly, receiving the little thing with carefuladoration. The kitten blinked lazily, apparently confused with the change ofenvironment, rolling over on their palm carelessly and proceeding to adorably pawtheir finger. It had a black and silky fur, and was wearing a loose red ribbonaround its neck, almost as if it was placed there in an afterthought.

“That’s why I left earlier. You said you wanted one for sometime now. And Kayama has a friend whose cat just had a litter and, well, Ithought you would like.” He trailed off, noticing they were barely paying himany mind.

“But… You said you were too busy to care for one.” Theysaid, feeling their heart twist painfully at the mere thought of having toreturn the lovely creature. They loved it already. “Or would I take it to myhouse? You can maybe visit it sometimes? Or it stays here and I will visit itsometimes?”

“That won’t be a problem if you move in.” He put in, withappalling simplicity, as if answering that obviously the sum of two plus twoequals four. Not as if he had just invited his long term partner to live together.They felt their heart stop, the air leaving their lungs altogether.

“Do you mean this?” They said quietly, emotion taking overtheir soul in strong waves as the kitten bit at their thumb softly.

He nodded, a rare gentle smile touching hislips. “Yes, I do. If you will have me. No don’t.” He added in mild panic, asthe tears threatened to spill down their eyes. He closed the space between themboth, wrapping his arm around their shoulder, allowing them to bury their faceon the crook of his neck as they tried to regain control. “Happy birthday,[Name].” He said lamely, sounding mildly afraid to cause another emotionalburst. But they knew now: he meant it.

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[scars-ink-and-leather-blog]

✩ (shit i'm tempted to ask for bas and tia.. but you choose)

@fangs-and-lace for Bas and Tia || for this meme I completely forgot about but still am accepting

Send ‘✩’ for the following:

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Tia. All the way. She gets loud. Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither. They are both people that if they say they’re leaving, they are gonna leave.Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Bas, mostly because he knows that it is the best way to let Tia cool of. It is never a leave forever. It is a leave the argument. Who trashes the house? Neither.Do either of them get physical? Hell No. How often do they argue/disagree? Not very. They both had rocky relationships before and so they try to talk things out. Plus, too damn old for this shit. Who is the first to apologize? Both. Usually whoever was in the wrong apologizes or if they both were, it’s a mutual thing.

Sex:

Who is on top? TiaWho is on the bottom? BasWho has the strangest desires? Bas, probablyAny kinks?Like a hard kink? Not particularly. Tia likes having her hair pulled. Bas likes to cross dress.  Who’s dominant in bed?Switches. Usually Tia, though, if i had to pickIs head ever in the equation?Always.If so, who is better at performing it?Tia.Ever had sex in public?I mean, yes and no? They happen to go at it quite a bit in Tia’s office at the restaurant Who moans the most?TiaWho leaves the most marks?TiaWho screams the loudest?TiaWho is the more experienced of the two?…. Tia. Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?Make love. Rough or soft?Depends. Usually it is that good middle ground. How long do they usually last?huh… I would say the average is about 10 to 15 minutes to orgasm if there is only minor foreplay. Is protection used?hah, no. Does it ever get boring?Nope. I mean realistically, they are older, so their libidos aren’t raging. But they certainly keep the spark alive and wellWhere is the strangest place they’d have sex?Likely the kitchen table. Which has a wonderful view of the street and the other beautiful houses in the Garden District. 

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children?They both already have kids. They go into the relationship with 7 kids they raised, and 9 if Tia includes some of her baby daddy’s kids she watches over. If so, how many children do your muses want/have?Again, like 9 kids. But they do have one together- Gemma.Who is the favorite parent?Bas, honestly. Who is the authoritative parent?Tia, which is why Bas is the favoriteWho is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school?BasWho lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around?BasWho turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children?BothWho goes to parent teacher interviews?Both… But Tia does most of the talking because Bas is intimidating. Who changes the diapers?BothWho gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby?BothWho spends the most time with the children?BothWho packs their lunch boxes?TiaWho gives their children ‘the talk’?TiaWho cleans up after the kids?BothWho worries the most?Tia, she worries about everything and Bas usually has to reel her in. Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?Bas, because Tia would be the type to say ‘fudge’ and ‘shoot’ where he just… is not gonna bother. 

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?BothWho is the little spoon?BasWho gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?TiaWho struggles to keep their hands to themselves?  … TiaHow long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?Quite awhile but Bas likely needs to move because his joints. Who gives the most kisses?TiaWhat is their favorite non-sexual activity?Sitting together and just enjoying the fact they’re alive and happy. Likely sit on their front porch and watch everything go by and talk idly about whatever comes to mindWhere is their favorite place to cuddle?Bed.Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Both. Tia is handsy and loves to fluster Bas. Bas just loves to make it clear that Tia is his gal. How often do they get time to themselves?A lot before Gemma. Then it is a little less but they still enjoy it. 

Sleeping:

Who snores?Bas. Oh god, does he snore.Do they share a bed or sleep separately?Share. They’re old but they are not that old. If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?They are always touching but they aren’t on top of each other. Who talks in their sleep?TiaWhat do they wear to bed?Tia usually wears a nice nightgown that isn’t too heavy because New Orleans humidity. Bas likely has nice pajama sets that he may or may not wear the tops to depending on the weather.Are either of your muses insomniacs?NoCan sleeping pills be found by the bedside?NopeDo they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?Side by side. Who wakes up with bed hair?Bas. Tia’s is always wrapped before she goes to bed.Who wakes up first?TiaWho prepares breakfast in bed for the other?TiaWhat is their favorite sleeping position?They often end up facing each other, hands touching and knees brushing against each otherWho hogs the sheets?TiaDo they set an alarm each night?Nope. Both just have an internal clockCan a television be found in their bedroom?NopeWho has nightmares?Bas is the more likely of the twoWho has ridiculous dreams?Tia. Mostly about new dishes to makeWho sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Bas. Mainly because Tia curls into a little ball. Who makes the bed? BothWhat time is bed time? Usually no later then 10, unless a special occasion just because they both get up relatively early. Any routines/rituals before bed?Bas removes Tia’s make up and helps her wrap her hair before they head off to bed. Just a little moment of affection and care. Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?Bas

Work:

Who is the busiest?TiaWho rakes in the highest income?… I mean Bas probably does and did.Are any of your muses unemployed?Technically, Bas is “retired”Who takes the most sick days?Neither. They could have the plague and still try to workWho is more likely to turn up late to work?NeitherWho sucks up to their boss?They are their own bosses.What are their jobs?Tia owns a restaurant and is the head chef there. Bas is a retired Mafia boss soo…Who stresses the most?Both stress quite a bit when it comes to work. Or did stress in some cases.Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?Tia loves her job. I think Bas saw the good and bad of his. Are your muses financially stable? Yes. Very.

Home:

Who does the washing?BothWho takes out the trash?BasWho does the ironing?Tia just because she is super particular. Who does the cooking?Tia. God she won’t let someone just go into her kitchen. Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?Bas? I am not sure he even knows how to cookWho is messier? Neither. Both likely are so in the routine of keeping things a certain way that the house is never messy. It doesn’t look like no one lives there, but it is always neat. Who leaves the toilet roll empty?Neither. It is a shared pet peeveWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?NeitherWho forgets to flush the toilet?NeitherWho is the prankster around the house?TiaWho loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?BasWho mows the lawn?Bas(’s gardener that he hired when Ayla wasn’t there to do it anymore)Who answers the telephone?TiaWho does the vacuuming?BothWho does the groceries?Both. They go together and Bas is always the one that tries to sneak junk food into the basketWho takes the longest to shower?Tia, mainly because she likes to just stand in the hot water and relax.Who spends the most time in the bathroom?Tia. 

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?Haha no.How many cars do they own?2, though Bas rarely actually drives hisDo they own their home or do they rent?Own.Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?I would say coast? I mean they live within New OrleansDo they live in the city or in the country? CityDo they enjoy their surroundings?YesWhat’s their song?Cheek to Cheek- Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong What do they do when they’re away from each other?Both do fairly well apart. They certainly have enough to do, and usually are away for business. So work.Where did they first meet?… At Tia’s house.How did they first meet?They were having a dinner where Ana was meeting Tia and Isa was meeting Bas.Who spends the most money when out shopping?Technically, it is Bas because he buys it, but it is all things for Tia.Who’s more likely to flash their assets?Bas. Comes with the whole mobster mentalityWho finds it amusing when the other trips over?… Tia. She is usually in heels and it amuses her so much that her beau isn’t and still trips more then her.Any mental issues?I mean, Bas may have a slight form of PTSD and Tia has minor anxiety but it isn’t a huge hurdle for them.Who’s terrified of bugs?Neither.Who kills the spiders around the house?Tia will put them outside Their favorite place?Somewhere private and by the oceanWho pays the bills?BothDo they have any fears for their future?They worry over the impossible number of grandkids they are going to have to buy presents for.Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?BasWho uses up all of the hot water? TiaWho’s the tallest?Bas. Tia is shortWho’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?Bas. Because he wants a hot shower and not one that is mildly warm and mostly freezing.Who wanders around in their underwear?TiaWho sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?TiaWhat do they tease each other about?Tia teases Bas about how scary he looks. Bas usually will tease Tia when she has to get a stool to reach something she put up in the cabinet. Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?I think Tia sometimes cringes when Bas does the full mobster look because, honestly, who needs that much bling.Do they have mutual friends?Yes. Who crushed first? …. Tia shamelessly flirted firstAny alcohol or substance related problems?NopeWho is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?No.Who swears the most?… Tia, but only in the privacy of angry grumbles.