#i feel fuckin stupid tagging this properly
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Returns with ICE AGE ART???
Surprise yall new autism dropped! The Herd polycule are really my beloveds
#ice age 2002#i feel fuckin stupid tagging this properly#ice age movie#manny the mammoth#sid the sloth#diego the smilodon#Ellie the mammoth#Peaches the Mammoth
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Hello! I watched your speedpaints on repeat when I was in middle school (like 6 years ago) and sometimes still go back and watch them for the sake of nostalgia and good music. I just wanted to let you know you’ve touched my life and left a print, thank you 🤍
Thank you. So so much. For sending me this??? The me who made all those youtube videos. Doesn’t exist anymore. Life got harder. In so many new and horrible ways. And that like. Spark to create kinda died. And also I had more important shit to worry about all of a sudden. But. Knowing that it left on impact on someone enough to send me a message. Years after I’ve stopped making them tho. Idk.. that means something.. I appreciate you didn’t forget about me! (/my videos lol. I kno u don’t kno me. My vids and art feel a bit like. An extension of me tho? In a way. But I kno that it’s not a 1:1 thing. My art an videos express thoughts ideas and feelings of mine. But they are not. Me. Just lil slivers of me.. Tiny lil portions from specific moments in time.)
Sometimes it feels like those videos were just a flash in the pan. A brief moment of attention and fame I didn’t grab onto hard enough… and now the moments long gone. but. I didn’t rlly want to grab onto it, I just wanted to make fun videos. And show off my music taste lol. And express. The music videos my brain would create in my head into the real world. And then I got too busy w real life kicking my ass. (Ps. life has now stopped kicking my ass!! It’s gotten better. Just. Not the same as it was before) Maybe I’ll get back into it one day. If I have any new ideas. Once I get stable and know what I’m doing. And get like an iPad or something so I don’t have to wrangle w my laptop lol. But yeah!!! Srry.. I’m rambling a lot.. this message just made me emotional ok! I’m being openly vulnerable in turn hopefully that’s not too weird lol. I’m happy my videos had an impact on your life!! That means. A fucking ton. Like. Words cannot properly express the weird happy feeling that gives me in my heart. Thank you so much!! For real!!! Srry for getting all in depth about my life again this message just!!! Struck an introspective chord w me!!!
#like.. god damn#I guess it’s like… when I think about back then. and now. it’s weird. it’s so so weird#but this rlly! made me really happy to read!!! Srry if my reply is inarticulate or weird I’m bad at words and this is like a complicated#emotion to express without getting way too sappy and introspective and vulnerable#so I gave up on not being sappy and introspective and vulnerable to try and express it!#but I probably still didn’t do it 100% properly lol. hopefully u get the idea tho!#so yeah. thank u lol#I hope u have a good life dude! from: the guy who made those vids u liked…#time and life are so weird.. I hope we all get to have good life’s. u ask person#me. anybody reading my tags. anybody not reading my tags. idk!!! I just hope shit goes well! and we can get thru the bad times!#and have a good time. bein alive. to the best of our abilities…#ok. I’m gonna shut up now. this has gotten sappy and emotional enough ghghg#thank u.. again… Srry for goin off in weird tangents my brain just felt compelled#I have comfort nostalgia vids I like watching too. that just. mean a lot to me. I’m happy. that my videos can give u that feeling!#assks#sorry that’s my tag for. responding to asks. I promise I’m not calling u an ass#idk why I made that my tag ghgh- lil me was fuckin stupid lol#I say that w affection but I def was ghg. ok now for real for real shutting up! thank u again!
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aim to please
pairing: fontaine x black!fem!reader
warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, language, fontaine thee munch, oral (fem receiving), there's a bush (he's a wilderness explorer idc), daddy is used one time, some use of aave (if you think you're correcting my grammar in some of the dialogue you're really not😭🫠)
a/n: just a short lil fontaine smut while i work on my other two fics for him. pls tag me in any fontaine or yo-yo fics y'all write bc i lovee this movie so much
"Shit, fuck. Fuck, Taine!"
You were talking nonsense as Fontaine's tongue worked against you. You were sensitive and tired, but if you even thought he would stop, your hand flew down to his head to push him deeper into you. He had you drunk on the feeling of his mouth, and you never wanted to sober up.
"Yeah, say my fuckin' name," he spoke against you as he ate you. "Who got you feelin' like this, huh?"
Your head fell back as the tip of his tongue swirled your clit and made your stomach coil. You could feel every nerve in your body buzzing and your throat was dry.
"Talk to me, baby. Use that pretty voice."
"You do, Taine," you managed to breathe out.
You were going on your third orgasm of the night dealing with Fontaine. You'd put yourself in this position, expressing that you'd never been properly eaten out.
"I let Kendell try once, but he couldn't get over the fact that I didn't shave, so I just made him stop," you said.
Fontaine had laughed at you, shaking his head. He was always amused by your choices in men, how you always seemed to pick the ones that couldn't get you off the way you needed. He'd always tell you that he'd be happy to do it for you, but you always dismissed it as a joke because Fontaine is Fontaine and you'd get attached if you let him fuck you, which is exactly what was happening to you now.
"Kenell stupid ass ain't shit if he can't handle a fuckin' bush. Shit ain't nothin' but some hair I can just move out the way."
Your mistake came when you doubted him, though, confidently telling him that it's not like he could handle it either and that he was all bark with no bite.
Maybe you'd been secretly hoping that Fontaine would feel a bruise to his ego and a need to prove something to you for insulting him. If so, your wish had come true.
Within minutes, Fontaine had your legs spread wide open as you sat back on your couch. It was as if he was starving, tongue lapping up all your juices like you were the finest wine. He'd been starving for you and he was finally getting a taste.
"I'm gonna cum again, Taine," you whined as you rolled your hips against his face, making him moan against you.
"Quit talkin' bout it and do it then," he replied, letting his eyes flicker up to you.
You wished you could take a picture of him. His eyes looked heavy as he looked up at you. He was dazed, addicted to the way you tasted.
He wasn't sure what the fuck was wrong with Kendell, but he didn't mind. You were all his. He couldn't imagine how he went so long without you, but he knew he couldn't go any longer.
You began to feel lightheaded as your orgasm began to wash over you and your legs trembled. Your fingers found their way into his hair and you pulled his face impossibly closer to you. He didn't mind. If he suffocated, at least he'd die happy.
Fontaine's hands pressed against your thighs, keeping them open for him despite how they seemed to want to involuntarily squeeze his head between them. He'd save that for another time. Right now, he wanted to see every inch of your pretty pussy.
"There you go, baby. Show daddy how good he got you feelin',"
The sound of him sucking against your clit filled the room. It was loud and lewd and it made you shiver. Your mouth fell open as your chest heaved. The third orgasm ripped through you with a fierceness that you'd never felt before, and you couldn't help the whimpers that escaped you.
Pride rushed through him as you came on his face again. Just the thought of you getting off for him had his cock harder than it had ever been, and he couldn't wait to see if you felt jut as good as you tasted.
He wanted to claim you. To own you. He wanted to fuck deep into you and make you scream for him, spank that perfect ass until you were sore. He couldn't count how many times he'd pictured those pretty brown tits of yours in his mouth while you rode him. Fontaine wanted you to be absolutely his, and he was going go make you know that by the time he was done with you.
When your climax finally subsided, you pushed his head from you, too sensitive to bear the feeling of his breath ghosting against your clit any longer, and he grinned up at you with puffy lips and a wet beard. It was impossible to miss that look in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know.
He wasn't letting you go anytime soon.
•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
let me know if you'd like to be added to either a john boyega or teyonah parris taglist bc i'm about to go crazy with their characters
tagging: @wakandas-vibranium
#fontaine#fontaine x reader#they cloned tyrone#fontaine x black reader#fontaine x black!reader#fanfic#john boyega#fanfiction#they cloned tyrone fic#they cloned tyrone fanfiction#x black reader#black readers#black writer#theeblackmedusa🐍🐍
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6. 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞?
Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst, swearing, toaster shenanigans, bakusquad shenanigans
A yellow thread like a soulmate’s cord: So similar, but so different.
Katsuki hates people.
It doesn’t matter if he appreciates a small small small minority of them, he’s fully obligated to bring his thoughts to the grave because Mina and Denki had broken the toaster for the hundredth time, Kirishima’s way too positive for someone going for therapy and Izuku breathes too hard.
“Why do I have to buy the stupid toaster?” He lashes, sweat building dangerously in his hands. “I did nothing!”
“We haven’t hung out properly in a long while, man! Think of it as a…a get-together!” Eijiro told him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.
He’s testing his luck.
Ashido marches ahead of the both of them while playing thumb war with Denki. “And plus-hey!-you went feral when we got the previous previous toaster—Mina, stop it!” Denki chimes in, wrestling with Ashido.
“Who buys a VHS Player toaster? HOW DID YOU EVEN FIND A VHS PLAYER FOR A FUCKING TOASTER.”
“Mhm, uh-huh, yeah, yes, you see?” Ashido responds calmly. “This is why you’re needed.”
Behind them, Eijiro frowns. “I thought that was the 5th toaster, not the—”
“Finish that sentence,” He grits out. “I dare you.”
So yeah, borderline, Katsuki hates people.
He especially hates them when they start asking questions.
“You’ve been a ghost lately, disappearing right after class. What’s going on with you?” Eijiro changes the subject, and looks at him with curious red eyes.
Real, fuckin’ annoying questions.
Katsuki’s brain goes uhhh, and he shrugs off the red-haired’s shoulder to buy time.
“None of your business. If I’m busy, I’m busy. Deal with it.”
His friend gives him an inquisitive look, but Denki’s groan of defeat snaps both of them out of it, and Eijiro backs off. “Whatever you say, man.”
There’s an old street piano that lives right outside the mall. Katsuki’s surprised it’s still there, even after the plaza was stripped bare and renovated, the instrument sat there, creaking and lonely. What a contrast to the shiny, modern building it sat so innocently next to.
Out of nowhere, a splitting headache rips into his skull, and he has to grab the nearest thing (Eijiro) to keep himself from toppling. What the hell?
All he can see is that goddamn piano, multiplying and filling his vision. It flashes, disappears, and then reappears like it’s trying to decide whether it should be there or not. Someone calls his name, but it’s far away. Suddenly, he’s 7 again, showing off to all his admirers how wide his fingers could reach, how beautifully he could play the instrument.
All eyes are on him, and he feels like he’s a third person watching his younger self smile, shift aside to let someone else join him on the seat—
“Bakugou?”
A blink, two blinks, and the image is wiped.
“Bakugou?” Eijiro’s hand is on his shoulder and all eyes are on him. It takes him a second to realise that he’s gripping Eijiro’s arm, and another to unclench his hand. He leans away, and grits out low. “I’m fine.”
“You’re a liar,” Denki refutes, expression worried. “You okay, Bakubro?”
“Headache,” He supplies, gaze cutting back to the piano. It’s still sitting there harmlessly, like it hadn’t given him an existential crisis 5 seconds ago. He filters through his memories, frowning when he grasps at straws. He can’t remember ever playing a duet with someone.
Stalking ahead, he shoots a scowl at the inanimate object and enters the mall. “I wanna be in and out. Let’s go.”
He knows his friends’ expressions. They’re all concerned, because for some reason, Katsuki’s word isn’t good enough for them.
Whatever, it’s not like he hasn’t had lapses like that before.
A store full of green catches Katsuki’s eyes, and suddenly, all he can see is ferns and flowers stuffing the entrance of the little shop greeting the visitors of the mall.
They come back to the dorms with a new, normal toaster, and Katsuki gets a desk cactus.
—
Katsuki’s going deaf. He knows the drill yadda yadda, he’ll be deaf by 35 yadda yadda his quirk is an ass and so is he. However, he prides himself in knowing his eyesight is perfect and better than average. So he really, really hates it when they try to fuck shit up for him by making him see things that aren’t there.
His jacket hanging on the edge of the couch when he was visiting his parents over winter break. (It’s in an old storage unit his parents rented out since he can’t fit it anymore)
A cherry blossom tree siting right outside his old middle school. (It’s in the dead of the winter.)
Random street pianos, showing up at every turn.
And every time he shakes his head and blinks, the objects disappear. He doesn’t even want to get started with his dreams. Scenes from the war have been ending abruptly, cutting off and throwing him into moments of his life he never knew he lived through.
It’s been all he can even think about lately, and his zone-out sessions have earned him a slap to the head by his mother and daily check-ups via text from the shit broccoli nerd and Shitty Hair. He thinks about it, because it’s the same feeling when he hangs out with you. Your presence is so difficult to detect sometimes, he has to steels himself from blasting your face off because he didn’t notice you sitting right in front of him.
He has an internship with Jeanist and 10 articles to write for Hero History. He cannot afford to go crazy now.
—
“Katsuki.”
Katsuki’s eyes open. He spins around and finds a memory, ripped straight out from his life. It’s like watching a scene directly out of a play. His old, junior high classroom, with its rusted cabinets and creaky seats.
His younger self stops, and looks back, obviously annoyed. “What do you want, extra? Who the fuck are you?”
A girl stands there with her face blurred and clipped out, but for some reason, he knows her expression is one of shock and disbelief.
“Katsuki, don’t you remember me?”
Bakugou jolts awake. The sound of someone’s voice he can’t quite hear the words off ring in his mind, and he clenches his shirt as his heart pounds so loud it feels like it’s echoing throughout the entire room. Sweat is everywhere, clinging to his skin like a layer of dust, and a glance at his alarm clock shows 02:31. He lets out a loud groan, glaring at his empty ceiling. He’s definitely not going to sleep anytime soon. With sweat clinging to every part of his body, he swings his legs off and heads to the door. He needs a shower.
And coffee.
—
“Weird dreams? Seeing items not there?” Recovery Girl looks at him thoughtfully. “And you’re positive it’s not a Quirk?”
“That’s what I said,” Katsuki replied through gritted teeth. He’d have known if it was a Quirk. Even some Quirks weren’t touch-based, it was hard to be put under a quirk undetected. This was something else. “If it’s not doing you any physical harm, then my Quirk can’t help you with that. The best prescription I can give you is neuroleptic medications and sedatives for a good night's sleep. Other than that, try to take your mind off training for a while and take the rest of the day off. I suspect that you’re overworked.”
With Recovery Girl’s advice in mind, Katsuki comes out of the infirmary feeling less sane than he originally felt. Overworked? As if. The most eventful thing he experienced this month was him buying a fucking toaster.
With a heavy grunt, he opens the library door and ignores the hall just down the corridor. You’re probably on vacation, or visiting relatives. No point in going there.
If he’s barred from training the rest of today, then he could kill time by learning something new. If he wants to be a top hero, he’s got to be able to communicate. That means in both Japanese and English. If he can read more English books, he’d surely be more fluent in—
He stops short. In front of him, is a yellow thread. It curves and winds and leads him all the way to the back of the library, slung over seats and tables of the nearly isolated room. He’s heard about cringy soulmate manga from Mina, the one where the pinkies of two individuals are connected by a red string. This one, however, is yellow, and looks way thinner, like a spider’s skein.
Yellow.
That was your favourite colour.
Intrigued, he follows it all the way, and when he stops to see what’s at the end of it, he finds an essay shelved in the wrong way buried behind the dusty books that haven’t been borrowed in a long, long time. He almost misses it, but when he does find it, he takes it off the shelf and eyes the title wearily.
Phenomenon: Reset
It’s clearly not a published book, it’s bonded by stapler bullets and it’s written on the old U.A. foolscap that was outdated years ago. It’s more like a log then a book, a diary, even. Katsuki slaps himself mentally. What the fuck is he doing? Playing detective for his delusions? This could be a prank for all he knows, and the yellow skein his eyes playing tricks on him. This was—
‘Not a Quirk, causes people to become nearly invisible to the eye.’
Katsuki blinks rapidly.
Hah?
‘Day 3: I tried to talk to him the other day. It’s like we never met. He asked me if I was a new transfer student. I’ve been in his class for over a year.’
‘Day 4: He forgot our conversation the previous day. The teacher missed my name during attendance and called my parents up today. What’s going on?’
Katsuki skims through the rest of the days, and with each passing page, the handwriting gets more and more illegible.
‘Day 7: I feel like a ghost. My parents still remember me, thank goodness. I don’t know if I could handle it if they didn’t.’
‘Day 16: If this is some sick joke, I hope it ends already. What the hell? It’s like it’s a reset for me every single day. Every time I try to tell someone about it the person straight up forgets me the next day. This isn’t funny anymore.’
‘Day 70: He sees me! I don’t know how this worked but he sees me! I tried probing for more, but I can’t believe it! I’m so glad…it’s been so long since someone looked at me in the eye.”
‘Day 71: He remembers! Honestly, I don’t care that everyone else isn’t noticing me anymore, just having one person is enough.”
‘Day 121: I told him about my situation, and thankfully he believed me. He said he had a feeling about it, something about a watch and the stupid tree in the forest we used to sleep under. He said it kept popping up everywhere and it was driving him crazy.’
‘Day 235: I found an article that’d tried to be covered up. One of the government’s mistakes, back when Quirks were new. It had something to do with a science experiment gone wrong. It might be a lead.’
It goes on and on, from red hairs to dead ends, but through it, Katsuki got a gist of the situation. A science experiment from 70 years ago was conducted to see if a Quirk could be transferred forcibly from one person to another. That Quirk was named Undetected, one of the less destructive Quirks of that time and among the few who agreed to proceed with this experiment.
It might be possible in the modern day, but humans back then were far too uneducated to be dealing with Quirks that were still relatively new. The experiment went wrong, obviously, and it resulted in a glitch of the person’s Quirk and the region the experiment was being carried out in. Victims ended up forgotten with a presence so low that they were basically invisible. Back when this article was still new, there had been questions raised about it, whether these Quirks were more of a curse than a blessing, but with time this phenomenon ‘faded out of existence’.
No one could prove it, and the victims were chalked up to accidents or lunatics. Not many were affected anyway, and almost as quickly as the rumour made headlines, it disappeared entirely from the internet.
Katsuki’s blood runs cold.
Is this what was going on with you?
He leafs through the paper and skips to the last day that was catalogued.
‘Day 435: He said that I looked really pale, and told me that he’d found a way to save me. I was really glad, I was really. I only wish that we could have done it before it was too late.’
Katsuki flips the page over to find nothing else written and almost crumples the paper up in frustration.
He needs to see you. Now.
#juxtaposition (Bakugou)#mha#mha fanfiction#my hero academia#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugō#bakugo x you#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katuski x reader#angst#bakugou x reader#bakugou angst
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hi Ange! If you are taking requests for drabbles regarding your Ettore series, could you write maybe write a subby Ettore? Reading that he finally kissed the girl got me thinking about him letting his guard down and allows her to be on top and pleasure him🫠
Sorry to have kept you waiting so long for this!
I don't envision Ettore as being submissive, so I've adapted this to fit the series as best as I can. I hope you enjoy it.
Warnings: Language, violence, choking, smut.
Word count: ~1200
Main series masterlist
Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.
“You spend more time in the fucking Box than you do anywhere else.” Ettore glowers at her.
“Don’t be stupid.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t use it any more than anyone else onboard.”
“Why bother with it...” He says darkly, roughly grabbing her hand and placing it over the rapidly growing bulge in his scrubs. “...when you’ve got this?”
She sighs, pulling away from him. “We’ve spoken about this. Get it through your thick skull; we can’t get caught!”
Monte rounds the corner and she steps away from Ettore. He gives them both a curt nod as he passes.
“Fuckin’ cock block.” Ettore mutters under his breath, though it’s loud enough for her to hear and she is certain Monte must have too.
That bloody idiot was going to get them both found out.
She hurries away from him and spends the next few days doing all she can to avoid him. In her mind, the less they are seen together the better. The last thing she needs is for people to start growing suspicious and asking questions.
It feels almost painful to keep her distance, when she is drawn to him on instinct. The pull of their physical attraction to each other, coupled with their dysfunctional kinship leaves her feeling desperately lonely, and practically aching for his touch. Not that she’d ever admit that to him.
She refuses to meet his piercing gaze and finds any excuse to ensure she is never left alone with him. It’s just for a few days, she tells herself, let Monte forget what he heard and then things can go back to how they were.
The throbbing sensation between her legs is almost too much to bear as she lays in her bunk. This is ridiculous. They had gone longer than this without being together before. However, it’s usually circumstance that separates them, somehow it feels worse when it’s self imposed.
She groans in frustration, climbing from the mattress and stalking down the corridor. She has only one destination in mind; The Box. The quicker she finds relief the quicker she’ll be able to fall asleep, she reasons.
Her breath catches in her throat when it appears that Ettore has had the same idea. She stops in her tracks. He is just a few paces ahead of her, about to go inside, the muscled planes of his back illuminated in the low artificial lighting.
He turns when he sees her and her heart races. She doesn’t miss the tick of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils, or the way his eyes darken as he drinks in the sight of her. She knows that look, knows what he gets like when he stares at her like that.
“No.” She tells him simply, the wobble in her voice betraying the fear she’s attempting to mask.
She turns to flee from him, but he is too quick for her, closing the gap in a few long strides and tackling her to the floor. She presses the palm of her hand against his face, attempting to push him away, but he easily overpowers her. It’s impossible for her to get any purchase on the smooth linoleum floor in order to properly defend herself, and Ettore is much too strong for her anyway.
“Stop it.” She grits out in frustration, as he pins her wrists above her head, irritated at the way her body responds to him, practically arching into him.
He leans in to kiss her and she bites down on his lip, causing him to pull back with a hiss of pain, releasing her wrists as he does so.
Seizing her only opportunity to take back control of the situation, her hand flies out, gripping his throat with such force that he topples over. It’s only once she finds herself on top of him in their scuffle that she feels how painfully hard he is against her.
She stares at his face for a moment, his pupils are blown wide with lust as her fingers continue to squeeze around his neck. She softens, her resolve crumbling, desire for him winning out over the need to put some space between them.
Their hands work hurriedly to rid each other of their trousers and underwear, and she sinks down onto him. She has to bite her lip to stop herself crying out in relief as she stretches to accommodate him. Her hand finds its way back to Ettore’s throat once she begins to rock her hips back and forth, surprised when he doesn’t try to push her off. He stares up at her instead, jaw slightly slack and eyes hooded.
She sets a hurried pace, aware they could be caught at any moment. She clenches around him at the thought, causing Ettore to grunt. He pulls himself up, planting his feet onto the floor and meets her thrust for thrust.
As her fingers slacken around his neck, his hand winds itself into the hair at the back of her head, pulling hard.
She whimpers, the tightening in her lower belly growing more intense as the lewd, wet sounds of him pushing up into her, in sync with her downwards movements, intermingle with his laboured breaths.
His pulse flutters wildly against her fingertips and, with another tug of her tresses, she finally topples over the edge, reapplying pressure to his jugular as she fights to stay silent in the wake of the pleasure that washes over her in white hot waves.
This triggers Ettore’s own release, as his movements become sloppy, finally stilling as he pulsates and spills himself inside of her, eyes screwed shut and lips parted.
They stay like this for a few moments, allowing each other to catch their breaths.
“You didn’t think I’d just let you end things, did you?” He says, once his heart rate has evened out.
“What are you talking about?” She asks, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion, still feeling light headed from her climax.
“You haven’t even bothered to look at me in days.” He tells her, sounding petulant.
“I’m not ending things, stupid.” She chides softly. “Monte heard you call him a cock block. I was putting some temporary distance between us, so people wouldn’t get suspicious.”
For the briefest of flashes she notices something akin to boyish happiness pass across Ettore’s face, it makes him appear soft, vulnerable, but it disappears so quickly she wonders if perhaps she imagined it as his cold, hardened stare returns.
“So you still wanna...keep doing this then?”
She nods. “I just need you to be more careful. Be more discreet.”
She climbs off of him on shaky legs and begins to redress.
“Let you use The Box in peace, you mean?” He asks, pulling his bottoms back on and standing up.
She sighs. This was clearly always going to be a bone of contention for him.
“You know you feel better than that, right?”
He lets out a dry chuckle. “Little prick tease.” He says with a wink, before walking away.
#ettore#high life#ettore x reader#ettore smut#ewan mitchell#ettore fan fiction#ettore fanfic#ettore fanfiction#ettore fan fic
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dallas x early bird!reader? ilysm👹
THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG.
------------------------------------
Just Like Heaven
Characters: Dallas Winston, Early Bird! GN! Reader
Ships: Dallas Winston/Reader
Tags: smoking, light kissing, fluffy stuff :>
Wk: 649
Dallas Winston has never been a morning person, and he never will be. You on the other hand adore mornings. You love the way the light streams in through your window at Buck’s, you love when it illuminates Dallas’ features. You get to see this side of him that no one else sees; peaceful, vulnerable, sleeping Dallas. Who would blame you for watching him? He was beautiful.
This morning the sky is particularly golden, making the strands of his dark hair light up, illuminating it in hues of hazel and gold.
You take a sip of your coffee; black. It’s bitter, but a wonderful way to wake up. The steam is illuminated in the sunlight, rising in a steady stream from the chipped mug you’d manage to scrounge up downstairs. It had become a routine, making yourself coffee in the bar’s kitchen, maybe even breakfast for you and Dallas. Not this morning though, just coffee is fine for you.
You’re interrupted from your thoughts when you feel an arm lazily tossed around your waist, hearing a familiar sleepy grumble from the lazy lump of a man beside you. It sounded like maybe he said “morning” in that very Dallas way of his. His voice was low, rumbling and slurred with sleep. It made you smile.
“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” you glance over your coffee at him, the mug no more than a couple inches from your lips. Even if you weren’t actively sipping it, the smell was nice. And you had to protect it from the potential threat of Dallas spilling it again.
“How’re you even alive right now, it’s so fuckin’ early…” he whined, burying his face in the pillow beside you. So much for admiring his features.
“Wah wah” you mocked, elbowing him playfully. “You ought to try it, you know. Sunrise is beautiful.”
“Don’t need a sunrise.” the words are simple, still edged by grogginess. He leaned up, eyes meeting yours. “Have you.” and he’s grinning that stupid grin of his, pressing a lazy, sleepy kiss to your lips. You’re sure he can taste your coffee, and he doesn’t seem to mind. When he pulls away, he looks a bit more awake than before, his grin verging on cocky now.
“Sap.” you scold, shoving him. Though you can’t smother the smile tugging at your lips. Yes, you think this is your favorite part of your morning. While you enjoy your brief window of alone time, you may enjoy this, watching Dallas slowly wake up and getting that little peek into his vulnerable side, even more.
“You blame me? Look who I getta wake up to.” he nudged you back, moving to sit up properly. He leaned over the little table next to the bed, picking up a box of matches and a carton of cigarettes. You’re not a big smoker, but in all honesty you don’t mind the smell as much as you used to. It always reminds you of Dally now.
He perches a cigarette between his lips, striking a match from the matchbox and lighting it. Afterwards, he carelessly tossed both small boxes back onto the table. No point in offering you one, he knows that.
A comfortable silence settles over you two. You, with your coffee, him, with his cigarette. Maybe not the healthiest breakfast, but you wouldn’t trade it for a five course meal if you had the chance. Something about this… peace, when otherwise chaos followed Dallas everywhere, when the gang would be teasing you, something about this was a welcome reprieve. You watch the sunlight streaming through the smoke wafting off the end of Dallas’ cancer stick, follow that light to his features. His dark eyes, brown hair, all illuminated in a way that makes him seem like some ethereal being sent here just to have this moment with you. Yes, something about this felt just like heaven.
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Feedback is always welcome!!! tysm for the request!!! :D
#Dallas winston#dallas winston imagine#dallas winston x reader#dallas winston x y/n#the outsiders#the outsiders dally#the outsiders imagine#the outsiders fanfiction#early Bird reader#gn reader
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hi! Former anti here. I was first in fandom when I was like 13/14, and that was...years ago. I know first hand how easy it can be to fall into the whole "you can't ship anything remotely problematic or you're a bad person" thing. It honestly is a really sucky, self-righteous mindset. Not only did I get pushed into it by those around me, but I also didn't understand what proshipping and antis were. I thought minor x adult and incest ships were gross, and i didnt get the appeal of them, and that's what people told me being a proshipper was about. And I believed them. Everyone else, even ADULTS kept showing me it was okay to make stupid "if you ship xy then I will come to your house and stab you :)" type posts.
Anyway, I deleted Tumblr for mental health reasons when I was like 14. I still read fanfic, but avoided talking to fans/discourse etc. Came back, years later, new account, different fandoms, now an adult.
I got so fuckin sick of ship wars and antis real quick. Even though I personally don't like or want to consume minor x adult, rpf, or incest, or even some quote unquote non-problematic ships, I feel so much better just...blocking those tags??? It's so much easier than harassing people?? I felt like my fandom experience was SO much more peaceful and relaxing. That's when I started seeing the pro/anti thing again, and I realized it was never about "oh degenerates vs nOrMaL people", it was about one side leaving people be and the other harassing people about anything they personally didn't like.
Anyway, long sleep deprived rant basically boils down to this: used to be an anti, yet now, despite having no "pRoBlEmAtIc" ships, I am a proshipper! Bc I honestly couldn't give less of a fuck what others ship bc I can block tags and mind my own business :)
Side note: proshippers are actually way better at properly tagging their shit than antis. So. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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laineyy. laineyy help me. i keep going into the good omens tags and i see people being so so so SO sure about the fuckin coffee theory. lanieyy they hate Fun. they hate Nuance. they hate Aziraphale being an abuse victim desperate to make a toxic system good for him and his partner. there is no end to the coffee theory posts. I need to douse myself in fics of zira being just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing just to remind myself that he is a Flawed, Deeply Traumatized, very Silly little character who doesn't need magically poisoned coffee to do a stupid thing.
insert stickman gore meme image of me gripping your shoulders w my teeth bared
AHJDFHB I GET U .tbh when i first heard the coffee theory i was omg !! but upon thinking about it more ive grown to be like. Welll that is actually erasing everything properly complex about him. i get why people like it so much though TBH but its frustrating to see how disconnected the theory began to feel from aziraphale's character. like i do believe the coffee had something to do with things (not in the extent the coffee theory seems to suggest) because its good omens, every scene/little thing has some purpose to it even if it feels like it doesnt.
i think most people drift to the coffee theory because they need something to blame or a solid reason why aziraphale did what he did. i dont know if they fully realize there already IS a reason, crowley even says it himself, that heaven (and hell) is toxic for the both of them. I think a lot of them gravitate towards the coffee theory is because his actions at the end of the season are so different to how he acted throughout the entirety of s2. why would he willingly leave crowley when he was heart-eyeing him all season? when he set up an entire dance then pulled crowley into it with him. the whole "our car" (and even "our bookshop") and i GET that, thats what i was thinking when i first learned about the coffee theory, but his actions do fit him... it is something he would do. i mean how he acts all of s1 supports that, and even though its been a few years between s1 and s2, there is no way over that time aziraphale /completely/ got over heaven and its influence over him. and well... it didnt. we see that.
i have the same sort of feelings on this towards the liar theory (somewhat. idk i dont really know that much about it) and the every post saying aziraphale wants crowley as an angel back/loved him as an angel. because for the second bit, that isnt at ALL what he's saying when he's telling crowley he can become an angel again. aziraphale constantly is saying how nice crowley is and we know he thinks crowley is better than heaven. if metatron is offering to give crowley's angel status back then surely that means heaven realized they made a mistake making crowley fall - that surely they realize how good crowley is. and if thats true, if they did realize they made a mistake, then surely aziraphale /can/ fix heaven. surely he can make it good enough for crowley, because crowley is too good for heaven.
#SORRY I WENT ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT RANT AT THE END#i have a lot of thoughts about this show and its theories#go2 spoilers#asks! <3#sunlitmcgee
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MIYA POSTING
IT WOULDN’T LET ME TYPE ENOUGH TO REALLY SAY ANYTHING I WANTED TO IN THE FUCKIN. COMMENTS?? so i am just gonna make a post and tag mr. @yymiya who asked. So. INFO ON MY OCS!! specifically Miya because she is my baby and i’ve been drawing her for a year now
so these two are Miya (left) and river (right). Their pronouns are she/purr and they/he respectively. i made Miya last year in english because i was bored and remembered a conversation i had with a friend (who wears hijab)(i do not) which was basically just how would a catgirl wear a hijab? they would obviously just wrap their ears because it seems like kind of a hassle to cut out ear holes in every scarf you own and most hijabis cover their ears anyway, but if they had a tail would they wrap it? if catgirls were common enough would there be specially made clothes for them so they could cover their tail in a sleeve or something? we decided that its up to the person (like most things) but it’s probably not that common.. Anyway Miya doesn’t even have a tail in the main universe HAHA but it was an important question to answer i felt
i made River much later, in about april of this year? i thought Miya needed a skater boy friend (not boyfriend, as she is a lesbian🫶) so i made them also during class. to be honest i don’t have much of a story for either of them but they were really fun to draw messing around on my papers, i’m sure my teachers were sick of them lmao
if i were to make them into a comic of some sorts, i’d probably make their stories short and funny, while exploring themes of youth and growing up and finding your place in society as a minority/someone seen as ‘weird’. as an autistic queer poc, i didn’t really get much representation growing up, and i think seeing someone who acts and looks like me, who leads a life similarly to me, could have saved me from a lot of self-hatred when I was younger and didn’t know why I was different. a huge reason i still make art to this day is to help people who feel and look like me feel a bit better in their identities, because i know the representation i have seen, even if its few and far between, has touched me in ways i can’t even begin to explain. it means so much more than you’d think.
Anyway. the fantasy au kinda just came about one day when i was in a mood and felt like making fantasy character designs and stuff. i don’t have much of a storyline for this one either but i have a very vague idea on what it’s gonna be about, and i’m gonna develop the story as it is gonna be a big part of my Inquiry Question for Ap art this year👍👍👍
SO. these are their original fantasy au designs. i was actually pretty happy with miya’s first design, but for overall silhouette and posing issues i had to change her skirt, but i thought it looked stupid so i thought i should just rework her clothes altogether.
i’m gonna keep showing people this sheet because i am ridiculously proud of it. anyway. Even when i first started drawing Miya, way before i even thought of the fantasy Au, I had some specific design choices mind. I always wanted her to have catlike eyes, so i tried to imitate the shape of them while keeping them pretty human looking. the silhouette of her hijab is kinda exaggerated and not very realistic just so i could properly communicate the fact that she is supposed to be a cat.
in her original design, she’s supposed to be much closer to a human, with the only distinguishable traits to set her apart being her ears, her eyes, and maybe her hands. i wanted to put most of the “cat-coding” in things like the hoodie she wears, which has a tail, or the fact she paints paws onto her converse, or gives her self a dan-and-phil-style nose and whiskers (AHAHAKAHDHFKBS NOT A WORD). i also wanted her to be younger, about 15-16 in the modern universe, but that’s a difference I only made relatively recently, which you can see in the two pictures above.
with the fantasy AU, i wanted her to be honestly closer to an anthro than human. I didn’t want her to BE a furry, necessarily (no hate to furries, i am the number one furry enthusiast), but i wanted her to have much more animal-like traits. She’s very inspired by Tabaxies but i didn’t want the fantasy au to be in the 5e universe because i have several problems with racist stereotypes in DND.. anyway, miya is almost completely covered in a light layer of fur, has paw pads on her feet, almost has a muzzle, has a cat shaped nose, ears, a tail, and retractable claws. the only things keeping her from being a furry, at least in my mind, is that she has human hair and isn’t digigrade, and has much more human-like proportions, like the ratio of ear to head, head to body, torso to leg and so on.
i’ve put a lot of work and love into her design! while i can’t say everything has a concrete reason, almost every detail on her is intentional, one way or another. like, how she doesn’t have paw pads on her hands but does on her feet because she’s bipedal, and cats have paw pads to muffle the sound of their footsteps when stalking, for prey or otherwise. she also doesn’t need shoes because of her paw pads, but if it gets a little cold she might wrap something around her feet. shoes are very uncomfortable for her. (can you tell i’ve been dying to tell someone about that in particular i think its so clever)
other little details are, i made her headpiece mostly to bring more gold up by her face. it helps balance out the colors i think. the green in her eyes is inspired by my cat! and i don’t think cats can have brown eyes, but it was mostly bc i didn’t want to just give her green eyes (bc brown ppl with light eyes kinda freak me out cough cougb my sister cougb cough). the circles with smaller dots around them on her sampin songket are suppose to vaugely look like paws. i was gonna actually make them paws but that felt a bit on the nose.
i think thats all i have to say for now… i will talk more abt river when i finish their character page. there’s nothing really wrong with their current design, other than the fact that it’s kinda really boring, so i’m working on adding more character and interest! here’s the sketches i did in my sketchbook, i’m currently working on tracing n coloring them digitally
here they are!! also i said earlier that in the modern au miya is supposed to be younger but i never said how old she’s supposed to be in the fantasy au and i cant find a smooth transition to talk about that so i will say that here. She’s supposed to be like 18-19 in the fantasy au, i just think it would make more sense for what they’re supposed to be doing throughout the story (exploration, fighting, potential mortal danger, i think its a bit much for high schoolers is all). river is slightly younger but still around the same age as miya, so same thing for him too. they look really young in the sketches above bc my art style was doing something funky that day lmao
that is all!! finally!! for now at least. (if u saw me post this way earlier than i meant to No You Didn’t.)
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Do you have music headcanons for silent hill protagonists?
I feel like Harry Mason likes 50’ -70’ songs, specially jazz and blues (maybe he likes Sinatra idk) while James likes Reddit sad man music, there’s no way this dude doesn’t like at least one Radiohead song.
I don’t have more headcanons </3
i'm actually straight up cackling, my hc are the OPPOSITE! (well, sorta.)
i've tagged James to like a lot of oldies with a cutoff of maybe around mid-80s? he can be a liiiiittle bit of a "new music is trash >:(" kind of person. Frank influenced his music tastes a lot, always had the oldies station on in the car, would turn it on at home, and well, all the vinyls at home, too.
For Reasons*, James has a particular fondness for Sherry Baby by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons ( https://youtu.be/Uybtn6ebG0I ) (SORRY, THE NEW TUMBLR POST MECHANIC DOESN'T LET ME PROPERLY FUCKIN ADD LINKS TO TEXT DGLKDGFLKFGLKG), and is just a Four Seasons fan in general; as well as The Ink Spots, Billy Joel, Carole King, Linda Ronstadt, The Carpenters, The Beach Boys, Four Tops, Otis Redding, big band stuff, Marvin Gaye, Aretha Franklin, The Eagles (sorta), Frank Sinatra (to an extent, he liked The Rat Pack stuff better), Nat King Cole, The Beatles (it’s complicated), Bobby Darin, a smattering of other crooners and types of artists, etc etc…….
.. but he’s not much a fan of Barry White LOL. (sorry Mary :\ ) he really doesn’t like baritone or bass voices in general, though. he finds them eerie. (loser’s missing out tbh) tho i think too you're right about jazz! he's just..... kinda picky about what kind, i think. dude's pretty picky :\ i also think blues are a hit or miss with him. now, HARRY..
Harry is also an oldies appreciator, can appreciate the blues quite a bit, and his music tastes can goes way back and all OVER the place! he and James share a few favorite artists, but uh……. our boy Harry here likes to rock the fuck out!! LOL
Harry’s been a HUGE fan of Rancid since he started listening to them probably around 1995?? big fan of jam bands too, including Counting Crows (yeah) and CBDB! other artists he likes are Neil Diamond, Jonathan Coulton, The Grateful Dead, Meat Loaf, Brown Bird, Tom Rosenthal, Selena (it’s complicated……), Cyndi Lauper, Scorpions, Celine Dion (it’s complicated), Stealers Wheel, Seals and Crofts (it’s complicated), Jimi Hendrix, Jim Croce, Electric Light Orchestra, 16 Horsepower, Dio, Motley Crue, Motorhead, Fleetwood Mac, Cher, Sonny & Cher..
.. among others! he likes some Motown (and honestly, James does too!! Motown fucks) and a few Spanish artists, like Gloria Estefan, Celia Cruz, Mercedes Sosa, Antonio Aguilar.. aaaand some others he can’t name. (thanks, Jodi and family!)
quite a few artists are Complicated Relationships for various reasons (such as Jodi..) and others, eh.. Life Experiences.
Harry IS a car-jammer and lip sync-er. catch that fuckin weirdo drumming the steering wheel and air guitaring. catch Heather trying to jimmy the child lock on the door and leap out into traffic
Harry actually really loves karaoke as well! .. watching more than singing. you’d have to get him a liiiiiittle blitzed to encourage him to get up there. there’s a 70/30 chance he’d just want to sing something completely stupid tho, like Re: Your Brains by Jonathan Coulton. ( https://youtu.be/IIlITc1nkk8 ) his singing voice/style is awfully fucking cute of him; i sure will say that….. (because idiot writing brain might not like me giving some fine details away to the general public yet..
.. and if you know, then you know, and SSSHHHHHHH.)
it has to be said, tho: for as extroverted as this man is, and how much everyone - as well as he - jokes that he should’ve been an actor, he the MASSIVE amounts of stage fright can really hold a person back….. and besides. it would’ve disrupted the timeline; he’d’ve just been so good, he’d’ve put Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise; hell, even Georgie Clooney! out of work.. ssssssoooooooo he was just being courteous. that’s all. .. yeah.
JAMES and karaoke, tho….. heahsdfhehrhghdgh IT’S COMPLICATED DON’T FUCKING LOOK AT HIM [drives into a large body of water]
i think he had a wee little fantasy about being in a barbershop quartet :| that’s what growing up on oldies/big bands/crooners will do to a person. it’s unknown if he can sing, or much less understand how to keep a beat. it wasn’t anything big enough to actually want to pursue, per say.. just one of those types of little daydreams :)
i’m actually working on playlists for them!! they’re intended to be their “mixtapes” - what you’d typically find them listening to in the car. i’d actually kind of forgotten about them until this ask……….. ahah oops…. well shit i’ll just have to get back to it huh??
thank you so much for the ask!!!! :)!!! that was such a sweet little morning surprise, bless, hope u have a good one and stay healthy and safe!! xoxo 💖🙏🥚🥚💖🥚💖🥚
*GOOMT
#ches writes#harry mason#james sunderland#WHEE THANK U THAT WAS FUN CHEEEERS oh shit i need to get drawing it's gonna be HOT today and my POOR TABLET--
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housesitting
When they’re finally out of the meeting, engagementpromotionbrandtripadspot, Saha’s agent turns to her.
“It’d be really good for you to show at that after-party,” she says. “Lots of tag opportunities.”
Saha likes her agent, for the most part. More than the last one at least. She is a modicum more in-touch about everything. Still runs her about like a work horse. Worse, she’s a bit daft when it comes to figuring Saha’s priorities out.
And…honestly? Saha hates her annoying fucking L.A. accent.
She sucks her dislike down, though. Swallows it, sighs big and long. Fits a properly apologetic smile on her face, but doesn’t look up from her phone screen.
“Ooh, I’m so sorry, Rach, but I can’t. Got a thing.”
Her agent’s eyebrows bunch. “What thing?” She pulls her own phone from a neatly-pressed jacket pocket, and swipes at it. “I don’t have any thing on your calendar for that day.”
Saha pauses mid-text, waves her phone. “Yeah, ‘cuz I’ve got it.”
“Well, can’t it be rescheduled? This party is big, Saha, and —”
“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ delicately.
Her agent, for better or for worse, does not know when to give up: “Okay, well… we can delay an appearance. Which borough is it in? I’ll see if I can arrange a ride we can get you there late and still—”
“G’on, but it’ll be money wasted,” Saha says. Now she does look up from the screen. One thick, expertly shaped eyebrow arched, she offers: “It’s a family event back in Liverpool.”
Seeing the fruitless end, her agent sighs. “And I suppose it’s important.”
Saha grins at her. Tucks the phone back in her nondescript tote bag — she won’t be caught dead in anything brand without a feature or stipend — and shakes her head.
“Naw. Not at all. Just housesitting.”
*
Fuck, it’s worse than the pictures, Benji had laughed the first time they’d pulled up to the ruined house. She’d helped with the downpay, and looking at it had made her feel a bit like she’d tossed money into a hole.
But every time she ends up on the property, the house grows on her. Been a sad, broke, ugly little thing before he’d gotten his hands on it. Obviously beautiful at one point, but not in some time.
And now, she thinks: Fuck, I like this place.
She’s admiring the bed of flowers and new bushes, the regrowth bits of spotty grass, the freshly-patched hole in the west end of the roof.
Honestly she’d buy one just like this for herself. Then again, she’d never hear the end of it: copying me, huh? Finally admitting I’ve got better taste?
Nose wrinkling, she thinks of the rainbow assortment of threadbare, fraying flannels stuffed in his closet. You really fuckin’ don’t, Benj.
But…it’s a nice house. even though it still looks shit at certain angles, it’s becoming beautiful again.
Slowly.
Hard to blame him, but at the same time it’s not. Would have been a finished job months ago if he’d only just gave in and let her arrange contractors. But he’d insisted on doing it all himself.
Gives me something to do. Like time spent idle scared him. Want to have something to look forward to. Like the empty, unclear future scared him.
He’d said those things to her once over takeaway out on the rickety porch. And the delicate, vulnerable admission accompanied by his sad eyes, the implications of what he might get up to without the house…well. That had been well enough to shut her up about teasing him on it.
Saha rolls her eyes and snaps the car into park.
Stupid melancholic little dickhead.
The old front door cracks open ominously, dust and wood splinters raining down into her hair. With a grumble and a yank to free her key from the lock, she brushes it clean. Checks herself in hall mirror — just about the only wall hanging in the place, at the moment, and one she’d put up herself on a previous visit.
It’s sad in here.
It’s not done!
Okay. Means it needs to look like a Scooby-Doo set, does it?
Saha’s smiling at the memory of his offended, resounding laugh when she turns the corner past the stairs. The house is basically one big rectangle, and the center back is where it’s really lovely. Its main hallway opens into an airy space. Big windows. Kitchen on one side, living room to her left.
There’s a table and chair set that hadn’t been there last time she’d come round, a pair of boots kicked haphazardly along its legs. Jacket askew over one chair, messy pile of old mail in the center. She scowls. Fucker hadn’t even gone through the mail she’d collected last time. Lazy.
But still, all those little details? Benji Benji Benji. Makes her grin go wider.
Saha turns towards the other room, where the setting sun filters beautiful red-orange glimmers through the big windowed doors. It crawls across an old couch, the half-stained coffee table he says he’ll finish eventually, and —
And.
Her fingers tighten on the strap of her bag, fear licking up her spine. Immediate and icy, as if someone’s just dropped a bucket of winter lake water over her head.
There is a man lying on his back in the center of the living room.
And it is not fucking Benji.
There is a man. Who is not Benji. A man who is not Benji in Benji’s empty fucking house that might as well be abandoned. A man in the living room that has holes in the floor, for fuck’s sake.
For a split second, the fear dissipates. She thinks he’s dead, maybe. Just a dead body.
And then it rounds a circle and returns, slamming into her chest: just a dead body. There is a dead man who is not her brother on the floor of her brother’s secluded country home.
And Saha thinks:
Fuck. How am I gonna explain this one to the pigs?
Because she’s meant to report this, right? Meant to report a fucking dead man in the middle of her brother’s floor? Lying on the ground, dead? People report those things, naturally. Dead people?
Her heart starts to race, and that’s when the man sneezes. His legs kick up with the force of it.
He goes, “oh shit, dusty”. Laughs and settles back down into the starfish splay. Napping, maybe, in the sunlight? A stranger napping in her brother’s house oh fuck a stranger —
The scream lodged in her throat bursts out. It is proper fucking loud: ear-piercing in a way that hurts even her own, makes them ring as it ends.
And she’s in the kitchen, then. Not sure how she’s gotten there. She’s just…in the kitchen. Her bag isn’t over her arm anymore, phone flung out of her hand. She scrabbles at drawers — empty, empty, one fork, open another, a single takeaway chopstick, two cloth napkins fucking Benji can’t keep shit straight to save his life.
Or hers, for that matter, fuck’s sake. And if she dies to some stranger because her messy pisser of a brother can’t organize to save his life, she is going to be —
The thought makes a wild cackle bubble out of her. The scream’s still there, weak in her throat. So the laugh sounds more like a wail.
No way to be miffed if she’s dead. So she won’t be dead.
When she finally sorts out a knife from a drawer, the man has stood. Fuck, she’d been slow. He’s tucked into the corner by the fireplace. He’s big. Huge fucker, and if he wanted to he could cross then room in three strides.
She grips the knife tighter, holds it in front of her like she’s…fuck, holds it like a daft fucking idiot, like she’s pointing a wand.
Abracadabra! Poof! Saha Palanivel found dead at 35! Ta-daaa!
“What the fuck are you doing in here?”
She’d like to say the words come out on a snarl, but they don’t. Her voice is a whispery, scared thing. Weak.
He holds his hands up. Shoulders rounded, eyes wide and a sheepish grimace that shows his teeth.
“Jesus Christ, you scared me.” He puts his hand to his chest. “Man, I almost pissed myself.” He frowns, eyes distancing a bit like he’s forgotten something. “I leave the front door unlocked?”
It is a mad fucking question from a man who has, considering all evidence, broken in. Saha shakes the knife, and he lifts the hand back up. Palms out — palm out. One is tucked behind his back.
“Why are you American?” She shrieks, eyes narrowed, and then scrunches her face. “Fucking hell, I mean — get out! Oh, shit, get out!”
“Listen — ”
“No you listen, dickhead!” She feels a bit insane. Her voice is shot, shaky with fear and adrenaline. She jabs the knife forward, but there’s no point. He’s still stood across the room. “There is nothing to steal in here, alright? So just. Get out, and I won’t even call ‘em round. Okay? If you leave, I promise I won’t.”
The man pushes his hand out a little more, tilts it beseechingly. “Please don’t call the cops. That would suck so bad for me.”
Her fearful expression twists in anger. “Oh, it would suck for you, huh? Maybe shoulda thought of that before you broke in!” She thrusts the knife again, knows it doesn’t look nearly as confident or threatening as she’d like. “I will stab you, mate.”
She won’t. The thought of brandishing it has her a little ill, and she is pointedly not thinking about actually having to use it. Fuck’s sake, she can’t even watch horror movies. Fake blood makes her nauseous.
Gets a real funny mental image of trying to rush this guy and slipping in her own sick, though.
“Wow,” he tilts his head, eyes sweeping over her. Shuffles in place that she would consider shy if it weren’t from a B&E stranger. “That is…like, uncanny. Very Benji when you say it like that.”
“B-Benji?” The point of the knife drops a bit.a “You know Benji?”
He nods. Offers up a careful smile, eyebrows tilted meek. Like maybe he’s just earned a victory.
But Saha has the blade up again, her face set with suspicious determination. He could have easily nosed around, found paperwork or seen pictures or something.
“Like fuckin’ hell you do. Prove it.” She pats for her phone, tossed behind her on the counter, finds it, shakes it just as threateningly. “Prove it or I’ll call.”
“I dunno how I can convince you…?” He trails off and pauses, whole face twitching with amusement. Then he laughs, more to himself than present in the moment. “I mean, like. We could do the birthmark thing?”
Proper fucking weird. Those three words had been underlined, as if they really needed emphasis.
Saha distantly remembers reading that letter. You’d like him.
“Wait.” She drops the phone with a clatter. Points at him accusatorially, her expression scrunched in shock rather than fear. “Are you shagging my brother?”
The man is pale, even in the orange setting sunlight that tosses over both of them into the living room. She sees how absolutely red he goes at the question.
For the first time since she’d pointed Benji’s kitchen knife at him, he looks away. Directs his stare up at the ceiling. Swallows as if he’s nervous. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Then his eyes find her again, flick back down, looking wholly embarrassed. “Uh. Not…technically?”
“What the fuck does that mean.”
“Listen, I’m assuming you’re like…his sister? I don’t really wanna talk about—” his flustered shuffle returns. “Man, come on.”
Saha starts to slip around the counter, arm moving to keep him at the tip of the blade. He still hasn’t budged, other than the nervous side-to-side. Now that the adrenaline has ebbed a bit, she’s piecing together a very specific scenario in her head. And it’s not looking all that good, the way her anxiously churning imagination paints it.
“Why did you break in?” She pats along the wall, backing up and putting more space between them.
“I didn’t!” He says, and starts to move. Pauses with a glance up at her, then points down at his pocket. Saha only stares, so he fishes out something. Holds it up.
A little golden key glints, sparkling in the sunlight. Looks exactly like her own. But the house had only come with two, which means…
Saha laughs. It’s not quite as mad, but still a bit nervy. “Sorry? He’s gone and given you a key?”
And that’s the most convincing thing he could have done, isn’t it? Proven to her that he isn’t some fucking stranger, an intruder or a squatter or a stalker. She believes him even if something within screams, he could have had that made where’s Benji where’s Benji is he okay?
Because Benji…yeah. He’s got that streak in him. The tragically quixotic drive to give a key to his fucking fixer upper country home to some man he’s known for —
“How long have you known him?”
The man considers this for longer than she expected, eyes rolled up to the ceiling again. “Um. Months?”
“Huh!” Saha scoffs, and with the breath ebbs out the rest of her anxiety. “Months. And he was so vague…?” She’s speaking mostly to herself now, eyes off him. “That cheeky little fucking —”
She has always been a hand talker. And now, the glint of the kitchen knife swipes through the air in front of her face. She recoils, forgotten her fist had been wrapped tight around it.
“Shit!” It clatters to the ground between them. She recoils, dancing back to avoid its edge. “Oh, shit, mate, I am so sorry. Look at you, Saha, pointing a fuckin’ knife at the —” she glances up at him, eyes tight and apologetic. “Fuck’s sake, you’re a vet too, I mean. Gotta be, right? And I’m pointing a knife at you.”
She’s glancing down at the floor, head in her hands. Otherwise, she would see the slight movement as the man tucks a gun underneath the sofa cushion.
“No hard feelings.” He starts to approach her, but it’s wary. Slow, with a careful lope and friendliness that sort of reminds her of a neighbor’s dog. “You gotta be Saha, right?”
Hearing her name makes her smile. The idea that Benji’s talked about her, out there. Spoken of her to other soldiers, maybe found some sort of comfort in sharing things of her, of them, makes her want to cry all of a sudden. And the idea that he’s speaking about her, being so uncharacteristically open, with a man who…who he’s given a key to his house?
She wants to know everything immediately. Wants to know how he’s doing, if he’s cut his hair, if he’s still smoking too much and hasn’t taken her chiding to heart. Wants to know where he is, if he’s listening to music, what he’s listening to, if he’s holding a gun, if he’s crying, if he feels like he needs a hug and feels like he can’t ask for it—
“How’s he been?” Saha asks. Her voice feels very tight, the promise of tears jumping up from the ache in her throat to settle in her eyes. “He doing alright?”
Something goes across his face then that she can’t place. Looks…sad. Worried, maybe. She wonders if he’s not seen Benji in a bit, either. Would be like him, wouldn’t it, to fuck off in his own solitude.
“Yeah,” the man says, shrugging his shoulders and laughing. “I mean, it’s Benji. He’s great.”
And usually, Saha Palanivel is god at picking out a liar.
*
She won’t know he’s lying for a long time. But what she does know, after nearly two hours of conversation, can fill the void of that lie easily. He’s very forthcoming and Saha finds it difficult not to offer things up in return. Her brother’s…whatever he is, is a charming man. A bit funny, just as Benji had said, and not all that funny, but it’s bad enough that it works. And he seems lonely, so it feels good to lead him away from that space. Give him a couple embarrassing childhood stories that she, of course, swears him to secrecy over.
She gets some very sweet tale that makes her ooh and aah, because Benji’s a fucking softy and it just…it all lines up, doesn’t it? She can imagine him getting a fat crush on somebody after working together just once, and it’s even more believable he’d seek out a connection across multiple leaves.
“What does it say, that I’ve no idea the military works like that? Or that militaries work together, like that?”
“Probably good things,” Xavier from Boston says, grinning at her. He’s got a wide, all-teeth sort of grin. Reminds her of Benji’s, when it gets nice and true and wild, and the ache in her chest returns. More and more often, she gets that ache.
The distance is always a press at the back of her skull — like reaching out with her thoughts strains over the length of it, the fuzzy lack of him. Feels so close and so far. But when she finds him at that point far away, when her mind curls around the details, it hurts. It aches.
It’s silly and cliche, but Saha misses him like someone has taken a piece of her. Like she’s been forced to watch that nebulous piece, maybe an organ or a valve on her heart or a lump of her brain, be carried away.
No idea where it is. What it’s doing. If, maybe, since it’s been removed from her so long, it’s drying up.
Can you just come over sometimes, water the plants? He’d dropped the key into her hand without any other preamble, and she could only stare at it. Water the plants. Meant so much more, of course, coming from him. So careful with pieces of his own, and here he was dropping one into her hand. Giving her a bit back.
Water the plants. Be in my home, where I am sometimes, too. Where you can tell I’m living, that I’m alive.
So Saha asks Xavier a lot of questions. He knows Benji better, right now. Knows the man he is, instead of the one that flits and out of Saha’s life, taking and swapping and returning pieces of her. Of him, of them.
And every time she gets an answer, hears a new story, it’s like watering the plants. Watering the pieces. Making sure they don’t dry up.
She tries not to make assumptions. She really does. But that look on his face, when he talks about her brother? It really seems as if Xavier has got some Benji-pieces of his own.
That shared ache, the shared joy, makes conversation flow. So, even if he weren’t charming or silly or freely sharing stories, Saha thinks that would be enough. They’ve got Benji in common.
And yeah, she’s fucking neurotic. Probably shares too much. Would do it even if she weren’t running off a jet lagged two-hour nap on the plane and exhausted from a day of travel. She’s talking about Benji to someone who knows him, understands at least in some way the big feelings she’s got about it all. Who gets it. Him.
So. She cries. Does a real good one right at Benji’s kitchen table, doesn’t she, in Benji’s old shit house. Cries to some stranger who had been laying on the ruined floor. Because she misses him so fucking much, all the time. Because she loves him, so fucking much and all the time. Because:
“Sometimes I hate him. Not, hate him, but hate him about it, y’know?” She plucks at the sleeve of her sweater, wet from wiping her cheeks.
“No,” Xavier admits, cheek red where it wrinkles propped in his hand. “But I get what you’re saying.”
*
The sun has set once she gets ready to leave. Wants to go see her parents, and promises Xavier not to tell them anything. Because, he says, he’s got a plan in mind and needs to do it right. Which is so fucking sweet Saha feels that same aggressive pull to hug him as she does whenever Benji pops something incredibly sappy out of his stupid little mouth.
Xavier is leaving too, but not yet. Has some stuff to wrap up. Promises to water the plants.
They’re standing on the front stoop, Saha’s bag over her shoulder and Xavier framed in the doorway. Said their goodbyes already, but standing there. Not assessing one another, but staring regardless. Like each can’t believe the other exists, that they’ve had the night they had. That Benji brought them together in such a melodramatic fucking way. Typical.
“Hey,” Saha says. He pauses at the door, kicks a foot out as he turns back around. It’s such a little thing.
Goofy, she thinks. Weird. Almost boyish. Bet it makes Benji laugh, when he does that.
And it’s so strikingly clear to her in that moment, with that particular thought, his silly habitual movement, that she laughs out loud.
Of fucking course he’d gotten Benji’s attention. Gotten under his skin, popped that bubble he liked (needed) to think was thicker than it really was.
Of course he had.
“This is so proper strange, because like. I dunno. You could still be lying to me, I guess. But I don’t think so. And feel free to say no,” she holds her hands up, “if you’re not that kinda person. Y’know. Touchy one. Just…listen, I’m eldest, right? I’m real happy to know Benj is. Happy, I mean.”
Fuckin’ shut up, Saha, you’re rambling, she hears him say. Grins wider.
“Because you talk about him, and it seems like he’s happy. I think maybe you have a little bit to do with that.”
Xavier looks immediately away, scratching his jaw. Not red from the stubble, but the color coming back.
Saha steps back up from the yard onto the cracking porch that barely holds the door up.
“And honestly? You kinda look like you need one.” She holds her arms out. “M’not gonna shake your hand, after all that.”
She is expecting at least a bit of hesitation. Maybe a scowl and a fuck off, a flinch.
Except what he does is get that little brother pull to his face. She’d clocked him as one, a little brother, about four sentences into their kitchen-table conversation.
And that expression? It’s totally, utterly unique. Brow furrowed like it’s an insult, lip pulled slightly up, and then a crumble of it all into relief. It’s the look Benji always gives her — gave, she supposes — if he skid his knee, broke something and needed it covered up, had a shit day and wanted her to listen.
Xavier gets that look. It seems like he tries to hold himself back a bit, and Saha does too from a flinch of her own. Because, as pleasant as he’s been, the speed with which he stumbles forward is a bit intimidating for somebody of his size.
It feels really natural, though. She knows immediately he’s got a sister. Because he bends all funny, long torso hunched in, and his head drops full on her shoulder.
“Fuck’s sake,” Saha huffs, reaching both hands up to pat along his back. “Was right, then, was I?” She tries not to feel too proud of it. “Sometimes you just know.”
“You are a fucking goddess.” Xavier mumbles, voice sounding wet, and squeezes her tight.
Saha can only laugh, because she’s not got the air to do much else.
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I posted 982 times in 2022
That's 789 more posts than 2021!
392 posts created (40%)
590 posts reblogged (60%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@arachn0philia
@hazbinbargainbin
@hellizens-a
@poisoncandyhearts
@smiledotdeer-a
I tagged 975 of my posts in 2022
Only 1% of my posts had no tags
#i feel the heat; i see the light (angel dust) - 314 posts
#the radio demon (alastor) - 162 posts
#pun mun - 138 posts
#the audience (answered ask) - 124 posts
#lets try something new! (ask memes) - 121 posts
#wait - there's a script? (ooc) - 112 posts
#shady spectators (anonymous) - 89 posts
#not for the kiddins (nsfw) - 84 posts
#prince of hell; father of one (stolas) - 82 posts
#oh the dashboard melted but we've still got the radio (dashboard) - 78 posts
Longest Tag: 129 characters
#(hi hello i haven't been able to write for a few days. i'm keeping the event up for a little longer to deal with my stupid brain)
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Silk and pennies
Closed starter for @poisoncandyhearts
"We gave you plenty of fuckin' chances, Valentino. Really would have thought this slut was worth more to ya then a few bucks..."
With the sound of a struggle and a short scream, a video ends before picking up into a fresh loop of threats, demands, and consequences for ignoring their previous attempts in a torturous choir of screams and cries. It's hard to say how many times it's played now, how many times Val's actually payed attention to it, but it's the last lead in a week long scramble to find his most profitable lover whore.
Well, until.
A text comes from his eyes and ears through all things tech, simple yet all too foreboding.
[Txt: Vox] Found him. You're not gonna be happy, though. Come meet us. [Address attached]
12 notes - Posted April 13, 2022
#4
How Many People Are Simping For You?
“Are we...surprised? It’s a wise thing, not placing your affection in my hands. They’re far too bloodied to be gentle anymore.”
13 notes - Posted January 13, 2022
#3
One more day. One more night, really.
It’s all come to a terrible, awful, nasty sort of head.
No warning nor context, Angel merely sends out a mass text to any and all contacts he can remember through the haze of his heat - the fact that he can properly type them in a miracle.
[txt] “Don’t care who comes. Someone’s gotta fuck me through this stupid fucking heat or I’m gonna croak. Please.”
24 notes - Posted April 3, 2022
#2
Trust no one, not even-
One more hour...just one. more. hour.
It wasn’t an exaggeration, the day seemingly crawling on just to prolong the prince’s work. Exorcists have come from all over just to attack his humble home, to slay the many cowering souls inside. It’s been a nightmare trying to keep the barrier in tact.
His head hurts terribly. A fresh throb running through his nerves with each strike of a heavenly body against the shimmering veil.
It’s almost over though...enough so that he considers dropping said veil, allowing the souls inside to fend for themselves for the last minutes of the ‘holiday’. To hole up with his daughter in the safe space of their rooms - it’s far less area to protect, afterall. It’s not like they’re unarmed...despite his pleading that weapons be kept away from the place of peace.
He’s not stupid enough to have tried to take them.
A brief break is taken from the crowd so Stolas can return to his room - several older radios set in a line all lit up. He kneads his feathers as he takes a seat on the bed, listening in. Calastor...Mr.Dan...Dubois...god, even Angel Dust is among them! There’s so many voices of pain that only add to the ache in Stolas’s skull, but he needs to listen. Ensure they’re alive so he might help them once the Angels take their leave.
Click.
Stolas’s head whips behind him at the sound, startled that someone has followed him. He takes a breath to scold them, remind them that anything beyond the kitchen is off limits...but the breath stays in his throat as he turns to face his visitor, red eyes rounding with realization.
“...What are you-”
See the full post
27 notes - Posted December 31, 2021
My #1 post of 2022
Meme tag | Available muses
Semi-selective RP/Ask blog for multiple characters from Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss
Multi Fandom and OC Friendly
7+ years rp experience
Mun and muse 20+
NSFW themes present, preferably 18+ only.
Canon + Fanon divergent
Run by Avian
There is no expiration on any meme, just make it clear which meme it is so I can find it again! Also, if you are a personal main, please have SOME indication of a roleplay blog. Otherwise you might end up blocked by accident.
//PERSONALS DO NOT REBLOG//
61 notes - Posted January 10, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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— miscommunication | m.
pairing: matsukawa/f!reader
wordcount: 4.860
genre: smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort
cw: camboy!mastukawa, established relationship.
tags: masturbation (m.), dirty talk, cam sex, daddy kink, pet names, praise kink, soft!mattsun, fingering, cock riding, big dicked mattsun, multiple orgasms, creampie, use of the word cunny.
note: repost from my other blog!
+ summary: your highschool sweetheart makes a lot of money as a camboy. however, when you start watching his streams, things he says instills insecurity within you.
The second you met Issei Matsukawa, you knew that you were going to fall completely, irrevocably in love with him. There was just something about him; he was sweet, kind, attentive, and strong – among other things.
Since you knew him in high school, word swirled around that when he was older he would be a dream man. They were right.
You have no idea how your little puppy dog crush managed to catch his attention, but you were happy about whatever you did.
When he graduated, he learned he could make money off of his body. He was tall, over 6 feet tall, and fit with a dominant personality and sweet voice that made you want to do anything he asked.
It started off with him simply selling nudes and short videos of him simply stroking his cock. You were both baffled by how much people paid for a 15 second clip of him jerking off – not even finishing.
He had sat you down one night and asked how you felt about everything. You would never tell him he couldn’t do something. Especially because it was his body. Besides, it’s not like it really bothered you.
It didn’t take him long to evolve, creating a camming account that quickly blew up due to his good looks and dominant charisma. The spare bedroom, which had previously been a simple study room, had been turned into a studio for him to film in.
He made good money, becoming one of the top creators on the platform. Things were going very well for a long time, you never really watched his streams either in real life or on the phone. His occupation wasn’t really something you ever thought too much about – he kept everything mostly to himself, never really talked to you about it or anything of the sort.
But one day, you got curious. As any normal girlfriend would.
You sat in your shared bed, the lights dimmed with your phone in your hands. As you tuned in to his stream, you were greeted with a familiar sight. The studio was exactly the same as always and your boyfriend was more than familiar – but it still felt so surreal. Like you were an outside looking in, despite the fact that he was just down the hall from you.
You had spent a little while procrastinating, debating on whether you really should watch it or not. Issei had never told you that you couldn’t watch. But he never really encouraged you to either. Truthfully, his career behind that door was sort of a mystery to you.
Due to your back and forth dilemma with yourself, the stream was already well in progress by the time you started watching.
His body was a familiar sight – but it was different seeing it from an outside perspective. Right now, you weren’t his girlfriend. You were a viewer.
His fingers, adorned in metal rings, were wrapped around his thick cock. It made your mouth go dry at the sight. His cock was so pretty, long and thick with a blushing red head that glistened under the ring lights from the dripping precum.
Your gaze fell to the comments, seeing people complimenting him – as could be expected. After all, these were people who were paying for the privilege of watching him stroke his cock.
‘Your cock is so big!’
‘I’d cry trying to take it but I’d still thank you.’
‘His hands look like my favorite necklace.’
A strange feeling settled in your chest as you read all these people’s thoughts on your boyfriend. They gushed about how perfect he was, how amazing his cock was, how much they’d die to be stuffed full by him.
He grinned and laughed, giving flirtatious comments in response to them.
“Yeah? You think you could take my cock?” he chuckles, breath shuddering as he squeezed his length, “I don’t think you could handle it.”
“Ah, I bet you’d be such a good little girl for me,” he whispers, eyes lidded, “You’d cry and take my cock like you’re supposed to, huh?”
As he says these dirty things, the tips continue to rise. The words are familiar as they fall from his lips because they’re things you’re used to hearing.
You’re not sure how to feel knowing he’s talking to these nobodies the same way he talks to you so you click out of the app before the feeling becomes too much. You place your phone down and sigh, feeling your heart ache in jealousy as you replay the recycled words you’d heard him say night after night to you.
You know it’s stupid to feel jealous; it’s his job. He talks that way so he can make money. But it still instills you with an unfamiliar feeling of insecurity. It almost felt like everything he said and did to you wasn’t as special as you thought it was – because he just turned around to say the exact same things to faceless nobodies who paid him.
Issei is the only man you’d ever dated. He was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, and he was the one to take your virginity. You’d never even held hands with anyone else.
But you know he had fucked around a lot before the two of you got together, when you were just a shy, pining little girl for him. Of course he had, there was no way a man like him wouldn’t have girls all over him, feral for the opportunity to sit down on his cock and make him fall in love with her. After all, he’d made a job out of it.
It was never something that made you insecure. Issei never did anything that made you question his feelings or loyalty to you. So jealousy and possessiveness wasn’t a feeling you were familiar with. And you weren’t quite fond of it, you were learning.
You wanted to storm into the studio and sit on his cock, make all of his viewers see that his cock was all yours and they only had the privilege of watching him — put them in their place.
You sat with the negative feelings for the entire night. He finished his stream and took a shower, helped you cook dinner, and you sat on the couch with him as you watched a couple movies together.
He didn’t notice anything different in your demeanor. You weren’t mad at him so you had no reason to be passive aggressive.
But when you crawled into bed that night and laid beside him, tucked against his body, you thought back to all those women who were probably touching themselves to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect cock and pretty words.
You frowned and tossed your leg over his waist. He looked up from his phone in surprise, a brow raised before he smiled.
“Can I help you with something, babygirl?” he placed his free hand on your bare thigh, stroking the skin gently.
“I wanna ride you,” you demand softly, making him laugh.
“Since when are you so bold?” he teases, locking his phone before tossing it to the side. You pout and push the band of his sweats down to pull his cock free. He reaches out and grabs your wrist with his eyes narrowed, “I think you know better than that, pretty girl. Is that how you ask Daddy for his cock?”
You shrink a bit under his gaze and lower your head, “N-No Daddy…I’m sorry…”
He smiled, “It’s okay, baby. Why don’t you ask politely, hm?”
You swallow thickly and nod, “C-Can I ride your cock, Daddy?”
He licks his lips and relaxes against the pillows with a sigh, “Go ahead and get me hard then, pretty baby.”
It wasn’t a difficult task, just the fact you were so eager for him was enough to have him getting harder by the second. You eagerly spit on his length, using it so aide in the slick movements of your hand as you jerked him off.
“That’s a good girl, fuck,” he breathes, body trembling as he stroke him with practiced ease, “Lift up, sweet girl.”
You do as you’re told, sitting up on your knees, keeping your hand wrapped around his length. He bats your hand away and you pout, but he pays no mind as he instead decides to strip you. He pulls the thin nightshirt you were wearing, dropping it off the side of the bed before sitting up properly to eagerly wrap his lips around your pert nipple.
You whimper, tangling your fingers in his hair as he circles the bud with his tongue. He pulls away for a second, nipping your breast before breathing out, “Are you wet, babygirl?”
You nod, “Yes, please Daddy…I want your cock.”
He clicks his tongue, “You know better than that. Let me see your pretty cunt, hm?”
Your pout deepens but you do as you’re asked and sit between his thighs, pulling your panties off before handing them to him. He hums, thumbing the material to see how wet it is before tossing them away. He looks expectantly at you and you immediately let your legs fall apart.
“Let Daddy see,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around his cock as you reach between your legs to spread your folds apart.
A couple years ago, you would have never been able to do something so lewd. You always felt so embarrassed when he wanted to look at your pussy but you eventually learned how turned on it made him. You still felt shy but you enjoyed the way his cock throbbed when you let him look.
“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” he whispers, grabbing your arms to tug you back into his lap properly, “Fuck, you are wet.”
Your cunt is pressed against the underside of his cock. It’s hot and throbbing against your clit, an addictive feeling that makes you grind against him. He groans, head falling back as you move along, coating him in your juices.
“Can I have your cock now Daddy, please?” you whine but he shakes his head, making you whine.
He pulls you against his chest and slips his hand between your legs, leaning up to press his lips against yours. His fingers circle your clit before prodding your little hole, slipping two inside easily. It stings but it’s a feeling you’ve learned to accept eagerly.
“Let Daddy stretch you out,” he whispers against your lips. You start grinding against his fingers, fucking yourself on the pretty digits as he curses, “Fuck, ride my fingers, pretty girl. Just like that.”
“Daddy…” you sob, head dropping against his shoulder as he curls his fingers, tapping your sweet spot. The stimulation makes you gush and you sob, clenching around him before you reach down to find your clit, “Y-You’re gonna make me cum…”
“I sure am, sweet girl,” he coos, choosing that moment to mercilessly fuck his fingers into your poor little cunt, abusing that tender little spot inside that has you creaming and dripping down his wrist.
A mantra of ‘daddy’ falls from your lips as you cum hard, trembling and sobbing against him as he fucks you through the high. He slows but doesn’t stop until you’re begging him to.
His hand is soaked in your cum and he can’t resist popping his two fingers in his mouth to taste. You suddenly remember the first time he ever did that, the way you squealed indignantly and hid your face in the pillow out of shame. He’d laughed and spent 20 minutes explaining how much he loved it and how he wanted to eat you out so bad now that he got a little taste of your sweet cum.
Before you could fully come down from your high, you reach beneath you and take his cock in your hand. He opens his mouth to speak, probably to stop you or scold you, but before he can, you’re sinking down onto his length. It burns as usual but the fiery pit of jealousy still burns bright and you want him to think of you too. You know it’s silly because there’s no way he’s thinking of faceless girls who comment on his streams but you still feel like you need to lay claim to him.
He’s your boyfriend.
“Jesus, baby,” he moans, his eyes rolling back in his head as you immediately begin bouncing on his cock, “What has you so riled up?”
“You’re mine, right, Daddy?” you pant.
He grips your waist, aiding in your movements as you fuck him like a toy, “Fuck yeah baby. Daddy is all yours. My cock’s all yours.”
You grin at his admission, feeling satisfied. That was all you needed to hear.
He looks at you, having no idea what this behavior was all about. But he had no complaints in the end.
Despite the negative feeling watching his stream had caused you, you continued to watch them. The outcome is always the same; you wind up ending the night staking your claim and making him remind you that he is yours. And he remained more or less ignorant to your behavior.
The night things take a turn is when you tune in to find him in his usual position, fucking his cock into his fist. He’s panting, more of a growl than anything, and muttering things you’d never quite heard before.
“Fuck, this feels so good,” he grunts, teeth gritted as he watched the comments, “I don’t give a shit about a good girl. I want a bratty little girl I can let some steam off on, put her back in her place.”
He grins as the comments fly by, viewers pleading to be that girl for him. Telling him they’d be perfect for him, the best sub he could ever dream of.
“I don’t think you could handle it,” he threatens with a narrowed gaze, “You’d let me slap you around? Let me treat you like filthy little whore? How pathetic.”
You gasp at the harsh, degrading words. Issei had never spoken like that before, it was strange to hear it. You find yourself being thankful you weren’t on the receiving end of that language because you were sure you’d probably end up crying.
“Yeah,” he chuckles again, “I’m sure you’d be such a pretty little brat for me.”
You sit back, his words fluttering around inside your head.
What did he mean he had steam to blow off? Why would he be unsatisfied? Is it because you were too…easy? You never fought him, he always whispered praise and sweet words to you. He’d never called you a name like that before. Is that what he wanted? To call you a dirty slut instead of his sweet girl?
Insecurity festered within you. In fact, you barely even noticed the fact you’d started pulling away. You didn’t consciously realize you were questioning yourself – doubting his attraction to you.
He was at a loss, baffled by your seemingly sudden rejection of him. It was almost as if you kept shying away from him when he tried to touch you – you had never denied him like that. You avoided his gaze in bed, choosing to cling to the bed sheets instead of burying yourself in his chest like you usually do.
Things progressively began to feel more awkward for him. He wasn’t sure if you felt it too, but he started feeling more apprehensive about touching you because he thought you didn’t want him to.
When he stopped trying anything with you, you started to feel even worse. Every insecurity you felt festered more and more until you felt like you were holding back tears just by looking at him. You were convinced, especially now that he crawled into bed with his back to you instead of peppering your face with kisses and slipping his hand down your panties so he could make you cum before bed, that you were no longer what he wanted.
Another night, you were sat curled up in bed. Issei hadn’t even told you he was going to start streaming – the only clue you had was the solid click of the studio door.
So you sat there, curled up in bed, leaning against the headboard with your phone in your hand as you watched him grin at the camera. He read the comments, slowly palming himself over his sweats – one of your favorite pairs that you’d seen him wear.
“I seem tense?” he mused, reading a comment, “I guess so. My cock’s been hard for days,” he tosses his head back and laughs but you can tell it’s not as genuine as it could be.
Guilt eats at you, knowing that you were the reason he was so tense – he wasn’t coming to you to get off anymore.
“Hmm,” he sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You track the way his tongue slips over his bottom lip and his cock twitches visibly beneath the fabric of his pants, making him grunt, “No, I don’t have anyone to take care of my cock,” his words make you shrink in on yourself, tears pricking at your eyes, “Oh, you wanna take care of it, huh? Come here then.”
Something about his words has you jumping to your feet.
The only time you’d ever stepped foot in his studio beyond to clean it every once in a while. Otherwise, it was completely his space that he took care of. So to stand in front of the door, located at the very end of the hall, was strange. Especially since you could hear his muffled voice from within.
Taking a deep breath, you twist the knob and push the door open. Issei jumps from where he’s on the bed, leans forward and hits a button on the keyboard to mute himself before looking at you in confusion.
“What’re you doin’ in here?” his tone was almost curt and for a moment you second guess yourself. He watches you shift awkwardly on your feet and his gaze immediately softens, “Baby, what is it?”
The pet name makes you look up, tears stinging your eyes at the tender look in his eyes. His gaze flashes to the computer for a second before moving back to you.
“I just…” you pause, tugging awkwardly at your oversized t-shirt before blinking your tears away, “Am I…still what you want?”
He blinks, confused for a second before cocking his head. You can see the wheels turning in his head and you can tell the exact moment he realizes what you mean. Clicking his tongue, he holds his hand out, “Is that why you’ve been actin’ like this? Because you thought I didn’t like you anymore?”
You look in confusion at his outstretched hand and take a step forward, “I-I thought…maybe you felt I was too easy a-and you wanted someone brattier.”
He laughs, a genuine one, and you can see his eyes light up when you finally place your hand in his. In the blink of an eye, he’s tugged you into his lap, making you squeal before he’s silencing you with a kiss.
“I think I would go insane with a brat,” he chuckles, “Besides, I love you exactly how you are, my sweet girl, hm?”
You shift where you sit, feeling his cock is still hard beneath you and you bite your lip, “I really missed you.”
“God, I thought you’d never say that,” he whispers, brushing his lips against yours, “Let me just turn the stream off and I’ll make everything up to you, hm?”
You stop him before he can, however, shaking your head, “I…”
He notices the bashful look in your eyes and groans, “Is that how it is, baby? You want everyone to see who owns my cock?”
You eagerly nod and he hisses as you grind your hips against his cock. He leans around you and taps the button again, unmuting himself.
Neither of you waits even a second longer. He holds your hips up, letting you pull his cock free from the confines of his pants as he yanks your shirt over your head, laughing at the way it messes up your hair.
“Fuck, I love you so much,” he coos, cupping your breasts, “Prettiest fuckin’ tits, huh, baby?”
You whimper, wrapping your fist around his cock, giving him a few squeezes to make him shudder. You can feel his precum drooling from the head, leaking down to meet your fist so you can stroke it into his skin.
“You’re so hard, Daddy,” you breathe, making him groan as he nods his head, “‘M sorry…”
“Don’t worry at all, pretty baby,” he huffs, thumbing at your nipples as he looks down to watch how you stroke him.
“Can I have your cock, Daddy?” you ask, resting your forehead against his shoulder.
He nods, unable to formulate words. It feels like it had been months since he had last properly felt your slick little cunt around his fat cock. His eyes are lidded, biting his lip as he watches you sit up to slip your panties aside. Neither of you think twice about even looking at the chat to read comments.
Right now, this is about the two of you – about showing everyone that Issei does have someone there to take care of his cock every night. Someone who he adores. And anyone with eyes can see how enamored he is with you.
As you position yourself above his cock, he narrows his eyes at you and with a firm grip to your waist, tosses you onto the bed beside him.
“Daddy!” you squeal, bouncing on the mattress, “Why–”
“You know better than that, babygirl,” he huffs, manhandling you with ease into the position he wants, “Silly of you to think I’d let you take me without prep, hm?”
You purse your lips in a pout but don’t offer a rebuttal, making him laugh as he knows he won. He spreads your legs and knees between them, making a show of stripping himself. As you look to the side, you can see that the two of you are in perfect view of the camera.
You had thought you were going to feel self-conscious with so many people watching you but instead, you feel confident.
Once the both of you are completely bare, he shifts down the bed before laying on his stomach between your spread legs. His large hands cup the underside of your thighs and push them upwards, reveling your glistening little cunt to his view.
“Fuck,” he huffs, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart, “I missed this perfect little cunny, you have no idea. So fuckin’ pretty for me.”
“Please, Daddy,” you whine, tangling your fingers in his curls. The gaze he gives you let you know exactly what he wants and you flush as you whisper, “Please eat my cunt.”
“That’s my good girl,” he sighs, leaning forward to run his tongue between your folds – collecting your slick on his tongue with a groan before swallowing, “So fuckin’ sweet.”
Once he gets that first taste, he wastes no time on going in. His tongue prods at your entrance, making you sigh at the little stretch that it gives before he leans up and finds your clit. His tongue is hot and wet against the sensitive bud, making your whole body twitch at the sensation. When his thumb finds your clit, he pulls the hood back and before you can even blink, his tongue is attacking the sensitive little bud beneath.
You squeal and instinctively kick out, squirming at the overwhelming sensation. He laughs, wrapping his lips around your clit and you sob at the feeling.
“D-Daddy, please!” you whine, “I-It’s too much!”
He hums and finally pulls back, returning his tongue to your little hole. His hand abandons its hold around your thigh in favor of finding your entrance. You hold your breath, looking down to watch as he sinks two fingers in – biting his lip as he keeps his own gaze on the way your little cunt swallows them down.
You spasm where you lay, the feeling of him just barely missing your g-spot nearly painful. You know he’s not doing this to make you feel good but you still can’t help but whine.
“What is it, baby?” he whispers, giving your hard little clit a sweet kiss before his eyes flick up to find yours. “You want Daddy to make you cum before you take my cock?”
You desperately nod, “Yes, please Daddy?”
“Fuck, anything for you, my sweet girl,” he doesn’t waste a second in wrapping his lips around your clit, crooking his fingers expertly to find your sweet spot,
The way Issei can drive you to the edge, to orgasm, is almost terrifying. It takes very little for you to feel your body tensing up. The lewd, slick sounds of his fingers stuffing your cunt along with the way you can see his tongue working over the cute little bud of your clit has you flying over.
Your back arches in the most beautiful way that he loves as you cum with a soft whine of ‘daddy’.
When you finally start pushing him away, he comes up panting. Catching any of your stray slick off of his chin before licking the pad of his thumb clean.
“Pl-Please, Daddy,” you whine, reaching out to wrap your hand around his cock, “C-Can you put it in now?”
“Fuck,” he groans, letting you direct his cockhead to your entrance, which was still spasming in the aftershocks of your orgasm, “Yeah, pretty baby, ‘s all yours.”
“All mine?” you giggle, gasping as he begins to press into your tender cunt.
“My cock’s all yours, fuck,” he groans, making sure the viewers can catch what he says.
It makes you flush and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. The change in closeness makes his cock sink even deeper inside you and you moan in his ear as he quickly bottoms out.
Usually, he takes his time and lets you adjust. But this time, both of you are so needy for each other that you can’t resist grinding your hips up to rock yourself against his cock. He hisses, taking the hint quickly and easily.
He pulls his hips back only to swiftly roll them forward again, sheathing his cock back into your spasming little cunt. His eyes are locked on his cock and the way your pussy swallows him over and over again – he can’t sink all the way in but you take most of him and he loves the sight of it.
Your precious little cunt creams so beautifully around him, coating him in translucent, milky white every time he pulls out. You’re moaning and whimpering for him so beautifully that it makes his hips falter every once in a while.
“Daddy!” you squeal, finally releasing your hold around his neck, “Please, make me cum again!”
“Yeah, baby? You need Daddy to make this pretty pussy cum?” he huffs, moaning when you nod and eagerly spread yourself open for him by hooking your arms around your knees and pulling them back.
He rests his hand on your pelvic bone, stretching his thumb down to circle at your twitching, excited little clit as he continues to stuff your cunt nice and full. You claw and cling to the sheets desperately and he can’t help but cup your bouncing breasts with his free hand.
“C’mon, pretty baby, cum for me,” he huffs, licking his lips as you gush around his cock, “Lemme feel this pretty cunny cum.”
You sob for him, back arching as you cling to his arm as he continues to grope and tease your tit. He feels your pussy clench desperately around him as you finally cum.
“That’s a good girl!” he praises, “That’s it, just like that. Keep cummin’ for me, I’m almost there.”
“Please, Daddy, gimme your cum!” you cry, your nails biting into his skin but neither of you notice as he reaches his high as well.
His balls throb and he groans, his body slumping over yours as he gives a few more, lazy thrusts of his hips as he spilled his cum into your vulnerable cunt.
The both of you finally fall still, panting and sharing soft kisses as he smiles and whispers promises of love. The sound of donation chimes on his computer finally draws you out of it and he sits up, pulling out of you.
He bites his lip, his cock twitching at the sight of your cunt drooling a mixture of yours and his cum before he moves to the end of the bed.
He doesn’t even spare a glance at the comments or donation total before turning the stream off. When it’s officially just the two of you, he crawls closer to you and pulls you into his arms with a side, giving the top of your head a kiss.
You know that you’re going to have to talk more about everything, but you both know that can wait at least until morning.
seita © 2020 | all content and its rights belong to me. do not modify or repost.
#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu smut#hq smut#matsukawa x reader#matsukawa smut#issei matsukawa x reader#matsukawa issei x reader#matsukawa issei smut#issei matsukawa smut#afton.writes
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Rapacious - rə-ˈpā-shəs- excessively grasping or covetous, living on prey, ravenous
(A rapacious appetite only for you my doll)
Hello and welcome to my first formal collab with the lovely @lady-bakuhoe Our thirsty dms finally turned into a full blown collab where our writing melds into one. I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
✧Triggers and Warnings ✧
Pro Hero Dynamight, aged up AU, adult themes, such as intense sexual interaction, yandere behavior, mind break (?), branding, and dub con. If any of these topics make you uncomfortable please do not read any further. Thank you.
The snow comes down heavily, beautifully as it sticks and clings to anything it can. Blanketing the outside world in an unsullied shimmer bringing a smile to your face as you watch the sun dip low over the horizon. The light painting the world in stunning reds and pinks as it filters in through your bay window that faces the street. A small shiver runs through your spine as you wait impatiently for your warm tea, convincing yourself that the chill has nothing to do with your outfit. An oversized Red Riot t-shirt, a pair of black dolphin shorts and black thigh high socks, it was comfortable and you felt cute. Even if it was just for yourself, besides what else would one wear to their solo Netflix binging? Surely not pants.
A rapid knock comes at the door. Harsh, precise as you jump out of your skin, nearly dropping your mug.
Lifting your cell phone to check the time, wondering who could be knocking at this hour, it was far too late for any visitors and it surely wasn't the post. The icy snow ensured that most people would be snuggled into their couches with a warm cup of tea, tucked away from the harsh weather. Much like you were trying to do, maybe if you ignored it the unsuspecting visitor would move on.
But another sharp knock echoes around your living room, urging your feet to move. You pad through your small townhouse, trying to get a glimpse through the window only for the unwanted guest to be standing just out of view. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at the thick oak door, debating on whether to open it or not as another knock sounded from the other side. Curiosity with a hint of fear compels your fingers as you click your door onto the chain latch. Opening it slightly, looking out between the crack in the door to see who it was.
“H-hi.” Your eyes caught sight of the man outside your house, pupils widening in surprise at the sight of him. Messy ash blond spikes on top of his head as his hair faded to a low buzz cut at the sides, “Dynamight?”
The man's scowl morphed into a smirk at your recognition, obviously proud that you knew who he was, his vermilion eyes glistening in the light gleaming from your house as you moved to take the door off the security latch, opening it fully so you could see him properly. His gaze immediately drank you in, glancing at the thigh high socks that hugged your thighs as he made his way up to the hem of your shirt, cherishing the exposed skin of your upper thighs until he noticed the shirt you were wearing. His nostrils flaring slightly at the sight of his best friend's face across your chest. It should be his.
“My car broke down.” He motioned to the car that now sat motionless at the end of your drive, fresh snow already falling and covering its windscreen, “Can I come inside?”
"Oh, um…" You're hesitant, technically you didn't know Dynamight but he was a pro hero. That meant he could be trusted right? Snow sticks to his blonde strands and shoulders. His hands and nose were a little red making it seem as if he had been in the cold a touch too long. Swallowing your fear you take a step back from the door, arm gesturing for him to come in. Silently elated he steps in as if he owns the place. What were the odds he would end up at your doorstep?
"Um, can I offer you some coffee? Coco? Tea?" Your voice sounds small, stupid. Nervousness prickles over your skin as he sinks into your couch.
"Tea is fine." His voice is silky and foreign in your warm home. He watches you with sharp eyes as you reach for a mug. Your short shorts ride up just a bit as your shirt gives him a tease of your back.
Meanwhile you're buzzing from head to toe, THE one and ONLY Dynamight, the man you'd been dreaming of since his debut, the only face and voice that you ever imagined when your hands ventured into your soaked panties, was here. In your home, sitting on your couch and oh Gods...Which blanket did you have out? Was it his that you sprayed with his line of cologne so you would feel less lonely in your apartment?
The kettle howls pulling you violently back to the task at hand. Should you ask him how he'd like his tea? You already know how he likes it, having read it in a magazine once committing it to memory in case you ever met him. But would that come off too strong? You settle on making it perfectly in hopes it would paint you in the light of a "great hostess." You grab onto the cup and turn to face the ill tempered hero head on.
He turns away in time, relaxed on your couch as you offer him his cup. He takes it from your hands, his cool fingers brushing against yours. He takes a sip, peering at you over the rim. His vermillion eyes cause your stomach to flip as you nervously twist the hem of your shirt. His eyes rake over you with a smirk before they land on your worrying hands and that damned Red Riot shirt. Suddenly you're hyper aware of your inappropriate outfit, tugging your shirt over your exposed skin.
His large palm settles on your thigh, starling you.
"The outfit isn't the problem. I just think you look much better in my shirt." He tugs at the hem, "Maybe you should take this one off."
“W-what?” You stammered, your body instinctively shrinking away from his touch.
“There’s just something about the way my face looks stretched against those tits.” He smirked, taking a sip of the warm mug before slipping it into your coffee table.
“What do you mean?” Confusion evident in your tone. What was he talking about? Your Dynamight merchandise? How would he have any idea about how much of a fan you were of him, just how many of his shirts sat in your closet right now.
“Don’t act all coy.” Bakugou continued, turning his body to face yours on the couch, a dark look in his vermillion eyes as his fingers danced higher up your exposed thigh, feeling a warmth begin to seep from his palm as his cool calloused fingertips dig into your skin, “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I assure you, Dynamight.” Bakugou groaned at the way his hero name sounded spilling from your lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Every day you’re out there being a fuckin’ tease.” He growled, biting your lip as you felt his blunt fingernails digging into the plush of your thigh, “Prancing around in these short fuckin’ shorts and my shirts.”
Wait, had he seen you wearing his merch before? Had he seen you in his clothes? How? You were certain he’d never seen the multiple selfies you’d take of yourself to upload onto social media, always too scared to tag your favourite Hero. Instead proclaiming your love for him shamelessly on your socials, gushing about how he was the perfect hero. Still, even if he was lurking on your accounts, he couldn't possibly remember someone as lowly as you.
“You knew I was watching you, didn’t you?” He snarled, his other hand moving up to palm your breast through your shirt, the action catching you by surprise as you gasped, “You wanted me to see you acting like such a slut.”
“N-no, Dynamight. I wasn’t-” You stammer as you think back, trying to remember all of the times you thought you felt a weighted gaze on you. Only to look over your shoulder to find nothing before submerging yourself back into your mundane world.
"Wasn't what? You mean you weren't trying to show the whole neighborhood your ass when you bent over 'pulling weeds'?" His palm becomes uncomfortably hot as his voice dips lower, lips brushing your ear as you drown in his spiced caramel scent.
"Maybe you heard about your new neighbor Pro Hero Red Riot, wanted to show off for him? Or maybe you're just a slut who loves the attention?"
Your blood runs cold, icy despite his burning palm, you swallow thickly as he continues to recite your summer as if reading from a list.
"You know exactly what you're doing don'tchya? So many men have changed their jogging route to include your street, even if it is well out of their way. They slow their pace in front of your house when you're outside. Bent over, head lost in your garden and your skin tight shorts show your plump lips, your thick thighs and that supple, soft ass. Tits almost falling out from your crop tops as you must refuse to wear a bra. But you're such a good girl, reminding everyone who you belong to when you wear those shorts with my name across the ass."
He leans away from you to hold your gaze. A shiver runs up your spine, you had never posted those shorts. The fan made ones that say "Bakugou's" across the ass, fuck how did he-?
He reads the question across your face, a nasty smirk dances on his cruel lips as he takes delight in the fear that blows your pupils wide.
"I've been watching you Princess." You feel your heart beating out of your chest at the realisation, “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”
You didn’t.
“That’s why you put on such a show for me every time, isn’t it?”
You hadn’t noticed your favourite Pro-Hero had been watching you all this time. You were beyond excited when Red Riot had moved into the neighbourhood, wishing you’d catch a glimpse of him each time you left your house. Getting up early some mornings just to see the red head stretching for his morning run, his muscles taut across his thick frame. But not once had Bakugou been anywhere in sight. You were sure you'd remember the ash blonde standing next to your second favorite hero.
“You do it on purpose.” Bakugou growled, his hand moving to your exposed waist, stroking against your naked skin as his fingers dipped underneath your top, “It turns you on doesn’t it? Everyone looking at your slutty little body.”
“No, please. It doesn’t- I’m not.” You tried to move away from him, but he already had your body trapped between the arm of the couch and his large, muscular frame.
“All those eyes on you and you don’t give a fuck.” Bakugou’s large palm grasps your round breast, groaning when he feels your nipple pebbled underneath his touch, “You want everyone to see you.���
Before you have a moment to object, to tell him how wrong he is, his lips are already against yours in a sultry kiss. Your mind hazy as he immediately prods your lips with his tongue, desperate for entrance as he invades your mouth. You couldn’t believe what was happening, The Dynamight was inside your house. Your entire body burning as his heat engulfed you, this was something you’d dreamed about more than you could recollect. The amount of nights you’d touched yourself to the thought of his hands dancing across your body. Trying to imagine how it would feel to be completely ravaged by him, but now that he was here in the flesh you were nervous. The reality of the situation slowly consumes your body as your heart beats with more intensity.
“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” Bakugou rasps huskily as he tugs your shirt up and over your breasts, his vermilion eyes taking in the sight of your exposed chest to his prying eyes, “Even better than I imagined.”
You nervously tried to move your arms to your chest, trying to hide your body from his burning gaze, but his hand was quick to grab your wrist, tugging your arm away with a glare, “Don’t.”
You averted your eyes from his own, biting your bottom lip as he lowered his face to your chest. His tongue tentatively coming out to lap around your darkened areola, closing his lips around your hardened nipple as he began to suck on the tender skin. Your head falling onto the back of the couch as you let out a low whine, one of your hands coming up to brush through his buzzed undercut, stroking against the spiky hair as you arched your back into his touch.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this, sweetheart.” He murmured around your nipple, his warm breath fanning against your skin as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. An airy gasp leaving your parted lips at the sensation as you involuntarily arched your back into his touch, “Every fuckin’ time I saw you-”
Wait? Every time he saw you? How often did he seek out your address? How many times did his crimson eyes burn into your skin without your noticing?
Your eyes dart to the large bay window, holding eye contact with yourself as you stare at your reflection. A pitiful and clear sight as the blonde's hands groped your exposed tits. If the pro hero was brazen enough to peer through your unobstructed window, just how many other eyes fall onto you?
“When I saw you in my signed debut Dynamight shirt, I knew I had to have you.” His lips curving into a grin against your skin as his tongue lapped at your hardened nipple, rolling the other one between his thumb and forefinger, “There’s just something about the sight of you in my clothes.”
At the mention of your rare signed shirt your body goes rigid, numb. If he had seen you in the shirt you mostly kept tucked away for safekeeping, he had seen everything hadn't he?
“Don’t go all shy on me now, Princess.” He released your nipple with a pop, palming your breast with a grin as he pressed his lips against your own, “Weren’t shy when you were putting on a show for everyone, were you?”
Your bottom lip trembled at the suggestion, worrying it between your teeth as you felt Bakugou lean forward to grab your wrist in a large hand, the scent of his quirk filling the air as you felt the heat radiating from his palm. Vermilion eyes glancing down at your half-lidded ones, a glazed expression over your features as you focused on his touch.
“Look at what you fuckin’ do to me, sweetheart.” Bakugou tightened his grip on your wrist, moving your hand towards his crotch. His cock bulging against his pants, desperate to be released as he lay your palm against him. Gasping at the sensation as your palm made contact with the fabric, feeling just how hard he was for you underneath the denim.
All the while his thoughts are consumed by you, your smell, the look of surprise on your face. The feel of your skin against his and the heat of your breath tickling his ear when he pins you to the couch.
All of the things he'd been imagining for the last few months. Your small hand against his large, twitching cock. Even through the fabric your warmth is hypnotizing, drawing him in and captivating him with every inch of you.
Bakugou's problem is that he can be greedy, hungry for more. Wanting nothing but the best and much like his sun sign, once he had his eyes set on something nothing could overcome his stubborn ambition. Not even the small look of fear in your eyes but even he can see that it is fading, melding into desire. He watches your fingers flutter, teasingly trying to figure out just how big and girthy he really was. Your heart races as you stare into his clouded vermillion eyes. Blood running hot as your mouth salivates, imagining the same thing he is.
How does it taste?
You let out a soft whine, fingers prodding at the head earning you a borderline feral growl.
"Quit being a fucking tease and take it out, Princess." He groans, you freeze at his bold request.
"B..but…" He crowds you as your protests die in your throat. His lips brushing against your ear as he breathes in your sweet shampoo.
"But what Princess? Scared I'll fuck you stupid?" He nips at the shell of your ear, chuckling darkly when you shiver, "Or are you scared you'll get addicted to how I taste?"
"T-taste?"
"Aw look at you acting all fuckin shy?" He squeezes your thighs with a deadly grip, fingers creeping between them, "You weren't so shy last week sitting in this spot were you?"
You freeze as you think back to last week, knowing exactly what you were doing, eyes glancing over his broad shoulder to see the snow coming down in sheets through the large bay windows. You thought you were high enough and far enough away from the road, there, there was no way he saw right?
His fingers press against your clothed sex, rubbing rough circles unable to keep the deadly smirk off of his lips.
"Your phone in one hand and your other right here. Or maybe," He moves the dark fabric to the side, sliding his fingers to your clit, "It was here."
You bite back your moans as the rough pad of his fingers circle your clit, just barely grazing over it in an agonizing purposeful fashion.
"What were you watching again? Amateur porn right? POV with the guy's face hidden but he was in a knock off Dynamight suit wasn't he?" He pulls back to watch your face, twisting with pleasure and horror, body arching towards his touch as your head swims. Cunt clenching as he dips closer to your core for slick.
"And what did that slutty mouth say?" His smile is cocky, holding eye contact. Silence sits between the two of you as your eyes flutter. He pulls his hand away from your throbbing clit, squeezing against your pulse point.
"I asked a question, Kitten. Now answer it." His voice is dark.
"Dy-Dynamight." You gasp out, he ruts his hips against your leg.
"Again." His free hand slips back between your folds, fingers setting a rapid pace that already has you teetering on the edge already.
"Dynamight!"
"Again. Say my name again." His fingers work you over as the coil unexpectedly snaps in your stomach.
"Katuskiiii." You gasp and whine, shamefully cumming all over his thick digits. He groans, shoving his fingers into your cunt to feel you grip onto him, he cannot wait to feel that pretty pussy molding to his aching cock.
But he would wait, for now.
"Good girl." He praises, pulling his fingers from your core, licking up them. Savoring your essence as you watch his eyes flutter paying you a high compliment. In quick motions he throws a pillow onto the solid hardwood floor, pulling the hair at the nape of your neck as he pulls you onto the plush cushion. His free hand undoing his belt with deft fingers before he pulls his pants and boxers down. His cock springs free, the head leaking precum as you lick your lips.
"You're gonna keep being a good girl for me right, Princess?" He coos, dragging his cock across your lips, smearing his sweet and salty pre from cheek to cheek.
"Fuck do you know how long I've been dreaming of your lips around my cock?" He groans, pulling your hair back to force eye contact.
"How, how long?" Your question prompts that nasty smile as his crimson eyes gleam with cruelty and lust.
"Months."
And with that he pulls your hair back hard enough that you cry out in pain. Bakugou takes the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth. Bottoming out at the back of your throat causing you to gag, your spit eases the roughness of his slow harsh thrusts as your eyes water.
Nothing could have prepared you for feeling Bakugou inside you for the first time, your wildest fantasies didn’t equate to this. The sheer size of his thick, bulging cock made it difficult for you to take him inside your mouth. The prominent veins that forked along the side dragging against your cheek as he eased you down on his length. Fingers stroking through your hair sweetly, a stark contrast to his previous movements. His husky voice cooing down at you, gentle praises that had you keening, desperate to hear more. The red, swollen tip prodding against the back of your throat as you gagged around him, a mixture of spit and pre dribbling down your chin as you tried to fit more of him inside your mouth hungrily.
“So fuckin’ greedy.” Bakugou grunted, his fingers carding into your messy hair and tugging harshly against the root, pressing you further down his aching cock. Watching the way your cheeks hollowed around him as you tried to adjust to his size. The movement causing fresh tears to clump in your lashes as you tried desperately to breathe through your nose. His coarse blond pubic hairs tickling your skin as he held your head down on his cock.
Struggling for oxygen as your tongue lashed against the underside of his length, the salty sweet taste of his cum mixed with the lack of oxygen making you light headed as you felt yourself falling deeper into him. Teeth grazing his sensitive skin as you tried to relax your throat, innocent eyes gazing up at him. The sight almost had him cumming on the spot, it was something he’d thought about for months, stroking himself raw to the thought of your lips wrapped around him. You felt gentle tremors flowing through your body as he finally allowed you a moment of respite, tugging you off his length roughly as you gasped for air.
“So pretty for me,” His warm palm stroked against your cheek, dipping his thumb between your parted lips as he felt you instinctively close your mouth around it. Your tongue swirling around the calloused pad of his thumb as you heard him groan above you, “Look at you.”
“How many times have you played with that slutty little pussy to the thought of me, hah?” Bakugou mused, his thumb slipping from your mouth as he pulled down your lower lip, watching the way your face followed after his hand to try and pull him back in.
“P-please.” You trembled, already feeling your clit throbbing painfully between your thighs, already feeling unsatiated as crimson eyes glared down at you.
“I bet you’ve never had anything this big inside you,” He wrapped his palm around his cock, smirking when he noticed your eyes hyper focused on him, “Have you?”
You shook your head nervously, even the toys you’d experimented before didn’t equate to his sheer size, “N-no, Dynamight.”
“I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, Princess.” Bakugou’s thoughts already flooding to how your tight little cunt would feel being split around his cock. Moulding it to his size so you’d never be satisfied with anything or anyone else. You were going to be his and his alone, and he’d do anything to ensure that happened, “Wanna feel that tight little pussy wrapped around my cock, yeah?”
His words sending more pleasurable jolts to your core, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation as he helped you to your feet, his large palms keeping against your hips as he dipped his fingers beneath the hem of your shorts. Sliding the material down your thighs with one rough tug, exposing your naked body to his prying eyes. The sight of you completely bare in front of him had his cock twitching almost painfully, you were even more perfect than he had imagined.
“C’mere, Princess.” He cooed gently, a stark contrast to his earlier actions. You keened as you slid onto his lap, feeling his thick cock pressed snugly between your folds as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself. Your fingertips digging into his shirt as you tried feebly to get him to take it off.
“So needy,” He smirked, leaning forward to tug his shirt up and over his head. His chiselled abs now on full display as you focused in on each sharp ridge. He was even more perfect in person, and you couldn’t quite believe that the Dynamight was now in front of you.
Bakugou’s large palms moved back to your hips, pressing you down against his cock as you felt the length stroke against your slit, involuntarily grinding down against him as you tried to give your clit some much needed stimulation. The action did not go unnoticed by Bakugou who smirked at your desperation, digging his fingertips into your skin as he began to circle your hips against his cock.
“You’re soaking my cock and I haven’t even put it in yet,” He smirked as he felt your slick coating his length, watching in amusement as you continued to grind yourself against him, trying to give yourself some relief, “Bet you could get yourself off just like this, hah?”
“No,” You whined, “Please,”
“Please, what?” He coaxed, his fingers slipping between your bodies to tease your puffy clit, a harsh laugh leaving his lips when he felt the way your body jerked at his touch.
“Please,” You trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous and self-conscious that you were now very much naked in front of your favourite Pro-Hero.
“You don’t seem to want it enough, Princess.” Bakugou teased, moving you away from his cock as you groaned in displeasure. Your eyes looking down at his shaft that was now coated in a layer of your slick. Fresh pre spilling from the tip as you reached out to grab him between your fingers. Bakugou’s reflexes were quicker as he caught your wrist in his large palm, giving you a warning look as his nostrils flared.
“So fuckin’ greedy.” He moved his hands back to grab your ass, kneading the round mounds as he moved you to hover over his cock, vermilion eyes gazing up at you as he waited for you to speak, “You want my cock?”
“Yeah-” You felt your head nodding before you’d even had a chance to think, desperate to feel him sliding inside your warmth, splitting you open as he buried himself deep inside you.
“Yeah?” He mocked, tilting his head to the side as he pressed a kiss against your pebbled nipple, “Then fuckin’ beg for it.”
“Please, Dynamight.” You rolled your hips again, grinding against nothing as you tried to create some friction between your thighs, “Want your cock.”
A groan spilled from his lips at such blunt words leaving your pouty lips, calloused fingertips digging into your supple flesh as he pressed you down on the head of his cock. The tip stretching you out slightly as you tried to drop your hips down on him, wanting to feel him deep inside you.
“You want Dynamight to fuck this slutty pussy?” He pulled you away from his cock which caused a needy whine to spill from your lips, trying to angle your hips back towards his length.
Bakugou’s palm wrapping around his cock to drag the swollen, reddened tip along your sopping folds. Feeling your slick coat his skin as it mingled with his pre, watching the way your eyes fluttered at the sensation of his cockhead brushing against your clit.
“Yes.” You hissed, already anticipating the pleasurable stretch his girth would create inside you. The thick head already back at your tight entrance as he watched you shamelessly try and drop your hips down onto him.
"Yes what?" His voice is dark with pleasure as he glares up at you, a pitiful mess. He's toying with you, as a cat does a mouse and you feel utterly embarrassed. This was Pro hero Dynamight damn it, you wanted to make a good impression. You wanted to be sexy, not some whiny bitch in heat.
Little did you know how much Bakugou loved it, lived for it as he gently bounced you on just the tip. Driving you wild as you whined, all the while he smirked.
"Please Katsuki-sama." Your nails rake down his forearms, "Please, please fuck me."
"That's my good girl." He slams you down on his cock in one swift motion causing your vision to spot. He relishes the way you flutter around him, adjusting as a shiver runs up your spine.
"Now fuck yourself on my cock, Princess."
"But-" He wraps his hand around your throat, malice and lust dance in his eyes as his free hand travels to your thigh. Palm heating with each pound of your heart until it begins to become too much, too hot.
"Ride me like you did your fingers last week. You were thinking of me then weren't you, pervert?” You gasped at his crude words, the idea that he had been watching you while you dipped your fingers inside your tight cunt had embarrassment ebbing in your core. Your body trembling as the object of your affections degraded you, “Wishing it was me finger fuckin’ that pretty pussy, yeah?”
Unable to stop the shameless moan that left your parted lips, the sound restricted to a strangled gasp as he kept his palm wrapped tightly around your jugular.
“Or were you thinking of Red Riot since you love wearing his merch so much, hah.” Bakugou goaded, you could feel his grip against you tightening as his palms heated up dangerously, “Wishing he’d come in and bend you over like the little slut you are.”
“N-no,” You tried to gasp out, feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen that flowed through your body.
Bakugou loosened his grip around your neck, keeping his palm against your skin as he leaned his head closer to yours, his warm breath fanning your face as vermilion eyes bored into your own, “What was that?”
“J-just you, Dynamight.” You rasped, a rush of air filling your lungs as your chest heaved against him, “Only for you-”
“Yeah?” His lips curled into a cocky grin, immediately tightening his grip around your throat once more, “That’s fuckin’ right, you should be thinking about me when you play with that sloppy pussy.”
He squeezes both your throat and thigh harder. You rock your hips, fucking yourself on his fat cock as you gasp for air, hands desperately holding onto toned arms for support as the coil in your stomach begins to snap.
“Now I want you to fuckin' show me how much of a Dynamight fan you really are." He groans at the way you grip around him, tongue lulling past his smirk for just as second.
If you had to try and describe this feeling it would be something akin to euphoria, a constant throb ebbing through your cunt at the dull stretch his cock caused around your core. His cock moulding you to his shape as he bounced you on his lap, the thick jutting veins along his girth dragging against your inner walls with each pronounced thrust. Desperate cries of pleasure spilling from your lips as he fucked himself into you, hungrily searching to pull more of those sweet sounds from your pretty lips. You felt pearly tears begin to clump in your lashes as he fucked into your tight cunt with vigour, uncaring for giving you a moment of respite as he hungrily used you for his own pleasure.
“Aw, you gonna cry, Princess?” He sneered, vermilion eyes gazing down at your own as he kept his pace, “I know you fuckin’ love it. I can feel you squeezing my cock.”
“Please-” You couldn’t think of the words, your mind foggy with the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain overwhelming you as he continued to fuck you with reckless abandon.
“Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked you stupid, dumbass.” He grunted, the calloused pads of his fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs, crude noising filling the air as you could hear just how wet you were for him, “That sloppy pussy is drooling all over my cock.”
"Who do you belong to?" His husky voice wraps around you like a vice, pulling your heart into your stomach.
"You." You gasp as the heat of his palm on your leg begins to burn, skin warping beneath his touch. Hand glowing golden as if he were a God while his quirk begins to really activate. The smell of spiced caramel, smoke and scalded flesh cling to the couch and invade your senses as a crude whimper leaves your parted lips. The skin that he’d just burned throbbing under his touch, as heat surged through your body. His sharp thrusts helping to morph the pain you felt into a pure, unabashed pleasure as he watched you worry your bottom lip between your teeth.
"Good girl. Now everyone will know exactly who you belong to." Your eyes flicker away from his face before he uses his finger behind your jaw to meet his gaze, "Look at your King when you cum."
The combination of pleasure and pain paired with the thought of being his makes that delicate coil snap. Your body tenses and freezes as you shake atop his lap, biting nails drawing blood on his arms. He smirks, fucking up into you as another mind numbing orgasim washes over your body. Without withdrawing himself he flips the two of you against the couch.
“Fuck, look at you.” Your back presses into the cushions as he towers over you. Gazing down and into your eyes as he slowly thrusts into you, switching hands to place one on your unburnt thigh, “So fuckin’ pretty.”
The telltale sounds of his quirk sound in the room as his hands crackle, heating his other palm, readying himself to repeat the action. To mark your body and claim you as his own, so if anyone dared to look at you they would know exactly who you belonged. Permanent hand prints marking you as his. No one else was allowed to have you, not that you had a choice, at least not anymore.
Bakugou hissed as he felt your cunt continue to flutter around him in the aftershocks of your climax, snapping his hips as his pelvis hits against your puffy clit, head swimming from both pleasure and your primal need to breathe that was being wholly denied.
Bakugou was going to ruin you and you'd let him.
"Who owns this pretty pussy?" Another possessive question that rockets you to the edge, body hoping for another mark, to make you symmetrical.
Whole.
"You." Another raspy breath but it's enough for Bakugou to hear. A silent moan tears from your throat as you try to keep your eyes locked with his. Pain blooming on your thigh with a delicious bite.
“What was that?” He snarled, pressing your thigh up against your chest as his arm slid underneath your knee, resting your calf over his shoulder as he changed the angle of his thrusts, his cock delving deeper between your folds as you felt the swollen tip bruising your cervix with each hard rut of his hips, “Say my name.”
“Dynamight.” You called out, already feeling your body throbbing in the telltale signs of another orgasm, your thighs quivering as you felt Bakugou fuck your body into the couch hard before using his grip on your thigh to drag you back into him.
The crude sound of skin against skin vibrated around the room as his meaty balls slapped against the swell of your ass, Bakugou’s muscular frame dwarfing your own as he used you for his own pleasure. His own little cocksleeve that would succumb to his every request, you would be his and his alone to use as he pleased.
“Again.” A low growl sounded from the back of his throat, a possessive undertone to it as he urged you on, “Say it again.”
“Dynamight.” You managed to whimper through sobs, tears trickling down your temples now and soaking into your messy hair. The sound of his name spilling from your lips made him readjust his thrusts with newfound intensity.
“That’s fuckin’ right. Red Riot would never fuck you this good, hah?” He provoked, a clear sign of dominance over you, “You’re fuckin’ made for my cock.”
A cry slipping from your lips as he gave a particularly hard thrust inside your aching cunt, the tip of his length pounding against your cervix as he worked to claim your body as his own, trying to wipe thoughts of anyone else from your mind so all you could think about in this moment was his fat cock buried deep inside your tight heat.
“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” He grunted, his eyes mapping out your body as he worked himself against you, “Feel so good.”
Your breasts bounced with the intensity of his thrusts as he felt your inner walls quivering around his cock, already feeling another orgasm creeping up on you, the coil inside you impossibly tight as you tried to remember to breathe. Your vision hazy as you felt yourself becoming lightheaded, white dots blanking your vision as you shook beneath him.
“You gonna cum again already? Greedy fuckin’ bitch.” Bakugou’s lips curved into a grin as he felt your fingernails dig into his forearms, leaving crescent shapes in their wake as a dull ache tingled against his skin at the sensation, “My cock’s better than your fuckin’ fingers, yeah?”
“Yes,” You hissed, your toes curling as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure. Your tight heat clenching around Bakugou’s cock as an usual sensation flowed through you, an intense throb in your core as you felt the unwavering urge to pee. Tightening your thighs around Bakugou’s firm body in an attempt to stop it from happening as wracked sobs left your body, your lower lip trembling as the sensation became too much. Too intense, too overwhelming as you allowed it to take over, your body crying out as you came. A clear stream of liquid gushing from between your thighs and soaking Bakugou’s crotch, his pace never once faltering as he fucked you through the sensation.
“Look at you, you messy fuckin’ slut” He howled in pleasure as he watched the liquid seep from your folds, “Look at your sloppy little pussy soakin’ my cock.”
“I’m sorry-” You cried out in embarrassment, feeling your heart pound in your chest as you saw his abdomen glistening with your release, “I didn’t mean-”
“What? You never fuckin’ squirted before?” Bakugou’s lips curled into a sly smile, his chest puffed out in pride, “Let’s see if you can do it again.”
Bakugou slipped a hand between your connected bodies to press four fingers against your clit, rubbing it frantically side to side as he tried to prolong the sensation, watching to see more of the clear liquid escape your heat.
"I can make this pretty little cunt do what I want. Wanna know why?" He leans in with a deadly grin on his lips, "Cause I own it."
You cried out as you felt the sensation flowing through you once more, a dull ache in your lower body as more of the clear liquid gushed from your folds. The sight made Bakugou smirk with glee, his fingers relentless against your sensitive nub.
“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He goaded, feeling your body trying to shy away from him as you withered beneath him, the pleasure becoming overwhelming, “That fuckin’ desperate.”
“P-please,” You whimpered, your entire body felt unbearably hot. Unable to think coherently as Bakugou continued pounding his thick girth into your core, his warm breath fanning your face as he hovered above you.
“P-please,” He mocked, tilting his head as he glanced down at you, “Please, what?”
“‘S too much,” You stammered, your hand reaching down to wrap around his wrist, trying to tug his fingers away from their assault against your clit.
The movement made him growl, baring his teeth as his hand moved from your clit, reaching up to wrap around the curve of your neck instead as he instantly tightened his grip against your jugular. The action caused your eyes to widen in surprise before your soft whines turned into hungry pants as you tried to gasp for air. Bakugou’s consistent thrusts into your sloppy hole made it difficult to think straight, your body fully focused on the sight of him above you while his hand wrapped tightly around your neck.
“Gonna fill that sloppy little pussy with cum, yeah?” You flushed at the suggestion, already feeling your inner walls fluttering around his cock at the thought, squeezing his girth as it created more friction as he dragged his cock along your velvety walls, his grip on your neck tightening as you felt your cunt clench around his cock in response, “You’re gonna look so pretty for me all full of my cum, Princess.”
A guttural groan spilled from his parted lips as you watched his eyes roll back, his thrusts stuttering as he came, bottoming out inside you as white hot spurts of cum splashed against your inner walls. His palms stroking along your exposed skin, sliding against the thin sheen of sweat that coated your body as he came down from his climax, humping a few more sloppy thrusts into your cunt as he cherished the sweet way your walls continued to flutter around him.
You whined as Bakugou slowly eased his hips back, slipping his softening cock out of your quivering folds. His eyes immediately focused on your abused hole as he watched his cum begin to trickle out of you as it dribbled down towards your ass. Unable to resist reaching a finger out to collect the mixture, scooping it up as he slowly pushed it back inside you. Smirking at the way you tried to bat his hand away from your overstimulated folds, this only making him want to tease you more as he moved his finger to press against your inner walls. Swallowing thickly as he felt your body involuntarily clamping down around him in an attempt to pull him back inside you.
“Such a good girl for me, Princess.” He moved his fingers up to stroke against your puffy clit, laughing at the way you arched your hips away from his touch, trying to stop him from teasing your satiated clit, “Took my cock so well.”
You mewl in response, clutching your arms to yourself as you shake from the previous events. You looked so small and scared causing a sharp pain to bolt through Bakugou's chest. God he wanted you in his care even more now.
“You were even more perfect than I imagined.” He pulls you to him, trapping you in his embrace as he presses your face into his chest. Hand smoothing your damp hair as he hums lightly. His eyes catching sight of the Red Riot shirt he’d discarded to the floor, a thought occurred to him, one he cannot keep to himself, as another sadistic smile settled on his lips.
“Kirishima told me not to come over here, said to leave you alone-” He pulls you back so you can look at him, and gods the look you're giving him. Eyes soft and submissive, hazed over in mind numbing pleasure as you float off somewhere far away. Only Bakugou's arms are keeping you bound to Earth. “But I was right wasn’t I, Princess?”
You'll never be able to escape his gravity now.
“He just wanted you for himself.” His fingers feather over your body before he stands, guessing where the first aid could be. You clutch onto his shirt, eyes desperately glued to your new God as the fading sun washes him over in deep hues of red. The way you look at him makes his cock twitch, feeling the intense power he already holds over you.
"You'll let your King go." A growl as his fingers find your throat, you nod with fresh tears catching on long lashes as he steps away. Sobbing from his absence before he returns.
"Don't be a baby, I wasn't that far Princess." His voice all bite while his hands speak the truth. Calloused and scared fingers pressing ointment into the fresh burns tenderly.
“But you’re mine now aren’t you Princess?” He dots over the burns, rubbing the salve in gently, “All mine.”
He leans away from you, cruelty ever plastered on his smirking lips.
“Maybe I should show Red Riot what you look like right now, hah?” He pulls out his phone, going to snap a picture. You're hesitant at first but then move to strike a pose, wide eyes looking into the lens of the camera as Bakugou angles it to get the dark bruises and scars that now marr your perfect skin. "Fuck, I think showing him what a good girl you are in person would be much better."
“W-we shouldn’t-“ You mumble, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought of your sweet neighbour seeing you like this, utterly debauched because of Pro-Hero Dynamight.
“Don’t be shy, pretty girl.” He coos uncharacteristically, almost mocking you as he watches your lower lip tremble, “I’m sure Red Riot would love to see you like this. Probably jerks himself raw to the thought of you.”
He eases you to your feet, sliding your shorts over your thighs as you hiss when they get to the fresh brand. Your mouth waters from pain as you look down at them. His perfect palm prints etched into your skin forever. You bite your bottom lip, wanting more from Bakugou who slips his jacket over your shoulders before putting your snow boots onto your feet. He makes his way to the door.
"Comin' pervert?" He asks before you rush to your feet, “Shall we show Red Riot what a desperate little slut his neighbour is?”
He wraps his arm around your shoulders, engulfing you in his mesmerizing scent and heat. You nod slowly, wanting nothing more than to please your new caretaker.
“Gotta remind that asshole who the fuck you belong to.”
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It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Ch 7 18+ NSFW
18+ ONLY PLEASE
Warnings: nsfw, sexy sex, abo, knotting
Part 6 | part 7 | part 8
Tags: @kyrah-williams williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely @bluemoon-icecream @kaz11283 @jenjen8675309 @dollfacev8 @witchinpractice @mystical-b3ar r @sukeraa @momc95 @book-lover-2006
Bucky was still reeling from finally getting to hear her name. While the omega explored his apartment, he sank down onto his couch, his head buzzing with thoughts of her and him and his past life with HYDRA and how her name felt so, incredibly, impossibly right.
Amoretta.
It didn’t sound familiar to him, and he was pretty certain that he had never known it before. That made him feel a little bit better about everything, a little less guilty for almost completely forgetting about his omega. He hated how much less he remembered about her than she remembered about him, even if it wasn’t his fault that HYDRA scrambled his brain up so much all the time. No matter how many times he told himself that it was okay, that he was already doing his best, he couldn’t help but feel like he was a bad alpha.
But when she looked up at him with that smile and those eyes, so trusting and happy and comfortable...well, a lot of those negative thoughts flew out the window again.
“So you live here? Like, for real? Like, all the time?” She asked as she inspected his tv.
“Sure do.” He chuckled, sitting on the couch to watch her. “Whaddya think?”
She spun around in a little circle, taking it all. “It’s...perfect.”
Bucky smiled. “I’ll have to find some more blankets for you.”
Amoretta paused, looking at him curiously. “For what? I don’t think I could ever be cold with you around. You’re like a furnace.”
“Well...so you can...you know.” He was feeling stupid again. She wasn’t even thinking of nesting with him around, was she?
“So I can what?” She seemed puzzled.
“You know...make a nest…” he mumbled. “Isn’t that what omegas are s’posed to do? I’ve heard Bruce makes them…”
Realization dawned on her and her jaw dropped a little. “Oh. I haven’t gotten to nest in...um...ever?” She laughed. “HYDRA never let me.”
“...oh.” Bucky cleared his throat.
“But now that I’m thinking about it, that might be nice.” She glanced around the room, already looking for a good spot. “Maybe there? Ooh, no, I don’t want it out in the open, do I? Or maybe I do…”
“Hey, FRIDAY?” Bucky asked.
“Yes, Seargent Barnes?” The robot replied, her voice sounding from somewhere in the ceiling.
Amoretta jumped. “Can she see us right now?”
“I monitor everything in this tower,” Friday said. “Tony has designed me to run all necessary systems.”
“Yeah, yeah. Tell someone we need more bedding. Blankets. Lots of ‘em.”
“I will let Miss Potts know right away, Seargent.”
“Thanks, FRIDAY.” He said, kicking his shoes off to rest his heels on the coffee table.
“Of course, Seargent Barnes.”
“So...you’re a Seargent?” Amoretta asked, making her way over to sit on the arm of the couch.
He stretched his arms back behind his head. “Seargent James Buchanan Barnes. World War II. I was with the 107th.”
“Is that how you know Steve?”
He smiled, his head. “Nah. We were always friends. Grew up in Brooklyn together.”
She sat up a little straighter. “Brooklyn?”
“Born ‘n raised, doll.”
“I wanna go!” She bounced down onto the cushion next to him, both hands pressing into his thigh as she suddenly leaned up towards his face. “Please?”
“Uh, sure.” He was a bit taken aback by her sudden movement, but he wasn’t complaining about how close she was now. “Mind tellin’ me why, though?”
“You mentioned it once.” She rubbed her nose against his neck, sighing happily as she scent of cloves filled her senses.
“...I did?”
“Mhm.” Amoretta snuggled up against his side, fitting next to him perfectly. “I don’t remember everything from back then, but I remember that.”
“What’d I say?” He brought on of his arms down to drape around her shoulders, hugging her closer.
“I think I asked you what kind of life we’d have outside of HYDRA.” She rested her cheek on his chest. “You told me we’d live in Brooklyn, in our own house. And…” she trailed off, blushing slightly.
“And what?” He asked, curious.
“You said we’d have lots of pups.” She chewed her lip, looking away from him in embarrassment. “It was probably just your rut talking, though, you know...i-if you don’t want that now, it makes sense. I mean, you’ve got this whole life now, and…”
She trailed off as she noticed that his chest was rumbling with a loud purr. When she finally brought her eyes back up to his face, she saw that he was watching her, features relaxed into a soft, thoughtful expression.
“Do...you want pups?” She asked, heart leaping hopefully.
“Always used to want a whole little family.” He pulled her up to straddle his lap. “Didn’t think I’d get the chance to, but now…hey, I never sired any for HYDRA, right?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good.” He sounded relieved. “That’d be a fuckin’ nightmare.”
“They made sure my heat suppressants kept me infertile.” Amoretta said. “They didn’t have a program for breeding super soldiers ready yet.”
“Good.” He growled. “No pups of mine are ever gonna grow up in a place like that.”
She reached up, running her fingers through his hair. “You really want them now?”
“Course.” He pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face against her scent gland. “Maybe not, like, now, now, but…with you? I do.”
Amoretta’s eyes widened, a happy little keen leaving her throat. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that…”
Bucky tugged her back so he could face her. “I’m gonna court you properly. Do it right.”
“But you don’t need to—“
“I don’t care.” He interrupted. “I’m an old fashioned guy. I’m gonna court you.”
She grinned, a hand trailing down the side of his neck. “How old fashioned, exactly?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Too old fashioned to have a little fun?” Her hand slipped down to press against his chest.
His purr turned into a growl, his hands moving to hold her hips. “Doll, all you gotta do is ask…”
Amoretta brought her lips to his ear. “Will you fuck me, Bucky Barnes?”
It only took a moment before his lips were on hers. He was gentle, but he was hungry, devouring her in a kiss that left her breathless and would have made her knees weak had she been standing. With his hands slowly sliding down to her ass, Bucky was perfectly content to take his time; he wanted to feel her, inch by inch, until he had memorized every curve and dip of her body.
Her skin was so soft beneath his callouses. He nudged her sweater up a bit, his hands slipping underneath it to grab at her tits. She couldn’t help but let out a whine against his lips when he brushed a thumb over her nipple, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held him.
When he broke away from the kiss, he gave her lower lip a sharp bite. “Bed. Now.”
Amoretta practically launched herself towards his bedroom, scrambling onto the bed without a second thought. Bucky followed at a much slower pace, enjoying the view as she shed her clothing.
“Hey, maybe I wanted to do that,” he teased, crawling over her. His lips found her neck, his fangs scraping her skin.
“I-I wanted to make it easier for you,” she gasped, back arching as he gave her scent gland a gentle bite.
“I wanna take my time with you, sweetheart.” His voice was husky and low, his breath hot against her throat. “I wanna enjoy every second…”
She sighed as he nipped and licked at her, her hands slipping under his shirt. Her fingers ran across his abs, feeling the way they flexed beneath her touch as he ground his hips into hers.
“You’re overdressed,” She said, tugging at his hem. “Let me see you.”
Bucky broke away from her neck and grabbed his shirt, shucking it off and tossing it behind him. “Better?”
“Much,” She hummed, taking in the sight of his naked torso.
“Good.” He took hold of her hips, leaving a trail of kisses behind as he made his way down to her pussy. “God, you smell fucking amazing…”
Amoretta trilled happily. “So do y—oh my god…”
His tongue was already lapping at her. She couldn’t remember anyone ever eating her out before, but Bucky seemed determined to make up for lost time. He acted like he was starving, sucking and nipping at her clit while he sank a finger inside of her.
Her hips bucked against him, his vibranium hand holding her down while his human hand played with her. She was already soaked, slick running down her thighs, and her scent was driving him wild.
“Fuck, I want you…” he growled, adding a second finger. “So wet, so willing…and you smell so delicious….” He inhaled slow and deep, savoring it. “I think I’ve missed this…”
“D-do you actually remember all the t-times you rutted with me?” Her voice hitched with little gasps as he stroked her inner walls.
“Yes and no.” He admitted, leaning his cheek on her thigh and looking up at her. “But I know this scent…”
“What scent—ah!” She bit her lip as he crooked his fingers a few times, warmth mounting in her belly. “K-keep going, I’m—FUCK!”
She shuddered as an orgasm rolled through her, electricity tingling in her limbs.
“The scent of my omega, all drippin’ wet, just for me.” He pulled his fingers away, licking them clean. “I wanna fuck you, doll…”
“Please,” she whimpered, scooting back up toward the pillows as Bucky stood.
Amoretta’s eyes were glued to his hands as they unbuckled his belt, his movements quick and determined. He was tired of waiting around. He wanted her now.
As he shoved his pants down off of his hips, she bit her lip again, rubbing her thighs together. She could remember how good he felt inside her, and as she thought about the way he always used to snap his hips into hers, she felt another trail of slick running down her legs.
At the sight of his cock, she was practically a waterfall.
Before he could get back to her, Amoretta was flipping over onto her hands and knees, presenting herself for him with her ass up in the air. She peeked back over her shoulder at him, watching as froze and then stiffened, a low, impossibly loud growl rumbling in his chest.
“Good girl,” he praised her, his cock already rock hard as he crawled across the bed towards her.
Amoretta gave a little wiggle, trying to convince him to hurry up. When his hands grabbed her hips and jerked her back against him, she squealed in surprise, the sound melting into a moan as he rubbed his cock against her.
“Please,” she whined. “Please, please just fuck me, Alpha, I need it…”
“How bad?” He leaned over her, nipping at her shoulder.
“S-so bad, please, just—“
She interrupted herself with another moan, her hands clutching at the sheets as Bucky finally gave her what she was craving so badly.
He pressed himself into her slowly at first, waiting to feel some resistance. She was so soft and warm that he almost came then and there, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he forced his hips to still. Fuck, how could someone feel so good? Her pussy felt perfect around him, gently squeezing his cock as he pulled back out and then thrusted back in, already balls deep inside her. He could tell why he had liked her so much during his ruts, but he had no idea how he could have managed to fuck her for more than thirty seconds during one.
When he started moving again, Amoretta turned into putty. She was absolutely melting, angling her hips so that he could sink in deeper and deeper, slick running down her thighs.
“You like my cock, baby?” He asked, voice muffled by her neck as he dragged his lips over her skin. He wanted to be as close to her as possible, and he didn’t care if that meant both of them being a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. He just wanted her.
“Y-yes, Alpha,” she gasped, slowly sliding down until her chest was squished against the bed. He felt even better than she remembered, his cock rubbing against every single perfect spot inside of her. He was stretching her out comfortably, her slick providing more than enough lube to ensure that his size could never hurt her.
Fuck, he was perfect. He was made for her. They were made for each other.
Bucky was pressed against her back, shielding her with his entire body. He didn’t want anyone else to see his omega. The sight of her there, beneath him, taking his cock so well was for him and him alone, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.
“Want me to fill you up?” He asked, licking her scent gland.
“Y-yes please,” she moaned, leaning her head back for him.
“Want me to breed you, over ‘n over, ‘til you’re full of pups?” He bit at her jaw.
“Yes!” She cried, whines and trills all flooding from her throat in a symphony of needy sounds.
“Say my name,” he panted, his knot already beginning to swell.
“B-Bucky,” she moaned as she felt it catch on her. Fuck, she had forgotten how good it felt to be stretched and feel it filling her.
He let go of her hips, his hand finding hers. “No, my real name…”
“J-James,” she gasped, intertwining their fingers together. “James…please knot me...”
That was it.
Hearing her gasping and moaning his name sent him over the edge, and before he could stop himself, he was exploding inside of her. He snarled, biting her shoulder again as he held her down, his knot locking him in place as he pressed his hips forward.
Amoretta sighed happily at the feeling, relaxing as Bucky’s weight fell onto her. He was panting hard, trying to catch his breath.
“Fuck,” he sighed, kissing the already-healing bite marks on her shoulder. “Sorry ‘bout the bites.”
Amoretta grinned at him as he helped her turn onto her side. “I like your bites.”
“Oh yeah?” He pulled her up against his chest, settling in to wait for his knot to go down once more. “I’ll remember that.”
“Super soldier, remember? Built to withstand you at your roughest.” She snuggled back.
“Guess I’ve got something to thank HYDRA for, after all.” He chuckled, drawing lazy circles on her hip. “You didn’t cum when I was inside you, did you?”
“No, but that’s fine.” She shrugged. “I did before.”
“That’s not enough,” he growled. “If my knot wasn’t so swollen right now, I’d be fucking you until your legs shake.”
“Is that a promise, Sergeant?” She asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“It is.”
“Well, then…” she held his jaw in her hand, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait for your knot to go down.”
#abo#alpha bucky barnes#bucky barnes x oc#bucky barnes x reader#alpha bucky#it's been a long long time#omegaverse#a/b/o#avengers x reader#avengers x oc
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Reverse batfam headcanons please centred on dickiee
i think about this entirely too often but yes yes of course.
languages were simultaneously the most simple and most complex thing dick had ever encountered in his long nine years of living. everyone in circ d’caleé spoke multiple different languages, and they'd lived in each other's shoes for so long that the travelling troupe developed their own little language, a mixture of everything and anything that could be understood. in addition to that, everywhere they went, dick picked up local dialects and accents with a tip of a hat and flip of his feet.
of course, that made it a bit difficult to properly communicate when he had to live with the waynes. while bruce, tim, and jason could speak a smattering of other languages, english was what they defaulted to first and foremost. damian was fluent in both arabic and nepali first and formost, those just happened to be two languages that dick didn't speak very fluently. cassandra was just now getting the hang of spoken language with a bit of sign language thrown in.
so the first few months of dick's shiny new home in wayne manor, everyone fumbled around words and phrases and vague gestures until they settled into hesitantly speaking french and attempting to convince dick to learn fluent english.
jason didn't like having a younger brother, he didn't. especially since that little brother was dick grayson. after all of the heartbreak and loss and weight of malediction bruce had lived with his entire life, jason could almost proudly say that he was one of the few people in the world to drive bruce out of his head, to get him to smile while taking jason out for ice cream, to sit him down and watch football with him, to make him laugh.
and then here comes this upstart little brat who couldn't keep both feet on the ground for the life of him and thought football was actually soccer and who could make bruce laugh like it was fuckin' easy. who could so easily clamber up bruce's shoulders for a hug and beam as bruce ruffled his hair and sob into bruce's chest in the middle of the night when everyone was supposed to be asleep. jason had spent years coaxing bruce out of his shell, step by painful step, and dick made it happen with two backflips and a cheeky pun.
it made jason's blood boil, the way dick never appreciated what he had, what he could do. the brat had taken to following him around, both in the cave, staring with awe as jason went through training routines, and in the manor, hopping into an armchair and asking jason to read a book aloud for him. it was irritating, just like it was irritating when dick popped jason's latest baking experiment into his mouth and loudly exclaimed how utterly delicious it was, just like it was irritating when dick dragged him to the aerial set bruce had installed in the batcave and asked him to watch his new routine. no matter what the rest of jason's stupid family said, dick was definitely not growing on jason. they could take their smiles and coos over the two "babies of the family" and shove them up their asses.
dick didn't understand why exactly bruce was so overprotective over the smallest things.
he never let dick travel anywhere alone, regardless if it was as far away as france or as close as the one gelato place left in gotham. it was so unfair, because dick heard that bruce let jason run off to ethiopia of all places, and only went after him because cass had told bruce about it the minute jason left.
he never let dick hang out with his friends, no matter how much dick asked to have a sleepover at wally's or go hang out with donna. on the rare occasions he said yes, they were only allowed to come to the manor. it was unreasonable, because bruce let tim run wild with young justice, despite the stories of tim going crazy after everyone in his team had died. tim wasn't crazy, as far as dick could tell, just a little paranoid and high-strung. also everyone on his team was alive, so dick didn't know what roy was talking about. cass didn't really want to go out anywhere, preferring to stick in gotham with her and tim's friend stephanie, but she had free reign over the city!
and dick wasn't allowed to fight any major threats by himself at all. damian had battled deathstroke at his age, and dick was pretty sure damian was still in contact with the league of assassins, but dick couldn't even fight penguin with bruce insisting he be there for backup. he was so overprotective it made dick's blood boil.
being around dick physically hurt tim sometimes. not the crass (yet still somehow funny?) jokes jason made about dick jumping into body-slamming hugs and crash landing into laps so fiercely that even tim could feel it. but it hurt,,,,emotionally, so to speak.
dick was just,,,,,dick was so much like stephanie, it ached. to be more specific, stephanie before. steph before she'd desperately bid for bruce's attention and landed herself at black mask's feet for her troubles. steph before the power tools dug her life away bit by bit until she was just gone. steph before she'd come back with green eyes and rage splitting at the seams of her scarred skin. steph before she realized that black mask had killed her and put tim in a wheelchair for the rest of his life for trying to avenge his best friend, and bruce had done next to nothing.
tim would sit in his clocktower and force a smile onto his face as dick rambled on and on about the most meaningful of meaningless things, as dick shoved new foods he'd never tried before into his face, as dick laughed loud and bright and clear, trying to forget a time when steph would do the same. she smiles now, grabs lunch with him and cass, wakes up on days when there isn't any green in her vision, but she'll never be who she used to. and tim prays that there never comes a day when dick ends up like her.
dick feels,,,,,isolated sometimes, compared to the rest of his new family. or no, maybe isolated isn't the right word. set apart, maybe, or differentiated.
both damian and cass had spent their lives being beat and broken and put back together supposedly stronger than before until they were almost wiped away entirely. steph and jason had both grown up poor and hungry and flinching back from their fathers, bending under gotham's merciless weight. (then steph had died, and come back worse than ever imagined.) tim had grown up lonely, had learned to fend for himself, had turned his name into a half-revered, half-feared whisper even when his legs were taken from him. maybe dick could have related a bit to bruce, but bruce had put himself through so much hardship and so much suffering in an attempt to keep himself from ever being hurt again.
in contrast, dick hadn't gone through nearly as much. he'd been happy before the circus came to gotham, happy and cared for and loved. but that didn't mean he couldn't still help.
he could sit and listen as they raged, because their anger couldn't touch him; he had no part in it. he could coax out smiles from their stone walls and laugh enough for all of them put together. he could take a name that had previously only been associated with death and heartache and turn it into the light and joy of gotham. he could dust the stillness from the curtains and breathe life back into wayne manor. and that, for him, was enough.
tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @comics-observer
#scribbles from the swamp#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#batfam#reverse robins#dc#dick grayson headcanon#bruce wayne#tim drake headcanon#batfam headcanon#dc headcanon#reverse robins headcanon
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