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aliteralsemicolon · 3 days

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Technically, I didn't stay up.

Just you and Spencer being fluffy when he comes home from work and falling asleep in each other's arms.

Spencer Reid X GN! Reader.

DISCLAIMER This story is completely SFW, minors do not interact regardless! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. TRIGGER WARNINGS: None. Word count: 1K. See notes at end for authors note, any spoilers & update schedules.

I was listening to Margaret when I initially started writing this:

Spencer’s abnormal work hours were something you were entirely used to. You never knew when he was going to be called away and although he would text you when a case wrapped up, it was never a guarantee that he was going to make it home. Actually more often than not, he was usually hauled right back in for another case. What could you do? Serial killers didn’t really care about his convenience. Regardless, you always insisted on being present to greet him at the door, even if it meant testing your sleep schedule.

from: Spence ❤️

20:42 | The jet took off not too long ago. We should land in roughly five hours. Please don’t force yourself to wait up.

20:42 | I love you!

You were quick to respond to everything except the not waiting up part. Your plan hadn’t actually gone that smoothly, you’d fallen asleep on the couch not long after making yourself comfortable there. You didn’t hear him unlock the door. He took extra care to be as quiet as possible when abandoning his shoes and satchel at the entrance. He even put a lot of thought into making his steps as light as possible when he began to make his way to the bedroom, only to spot you curled up on the couch.

He smiled to himself at the sight in front of him. The only lighting was a small lamp in the corner of the room, but to him, you were the brightest presence in the room. Your expression was neutral and your breaths shallow as you lay dead to the world. You looked so peaceful, he considered it to be almost criminal if he were to disturb you. He couldn’t just leave you there though. It wasn’t good for your body to be curled into a cramped position.

Spencer made his way over to you, crouching down next to your face. He couldn’t help but admire whatever features were visible. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Honey?” he whispered when he pulled away. His voice was so soft. He didn’t want to disturb you, but he wanted you to be comfortable in your own bed. “Hmm?” Your brain registered his voice, but it took your body a second to register his presence.

Spencer still had a hand in your hair, lightly stroking it. Your eyes fluttered open momentarily before they shut again. “You’re back!” You mumbled groggily, reaching out to brush your fingers against his hand. “I am!” He whispered gleefully. Your other hand made its way to his face so you could stoke his jaw. You could feel a little bit of stubble coming in. Spencer’s ears perked up at the little giggle that came out of you when you dropped from the couch into his lap and wrapped yourself around him.

“I’m sorry to wake you. I did tell you not to stay up.” His long arms swallow you into his embrace as he speaks.

“Technically, I didn’t stay up.” You counter letting your hand make its way into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Sleeping on a surface that isn’t firm enough can contribute to back pain and because the surface of a couch tends to be softer than a mattress, it might not offer enough support for your back. Also, falling asleep while sitting up on a couch could result in your head pushing forward, which puts stress on the neck. Sleep posture is an important predictor of stiffness, back pain, and neck pain, according to several studies.”

“Thank you Doctor. I remember why I missed you so much.” You pull back as you speak. “Who else is going to be as concerned about my sleep posture as you?”

“I missed you too.” He scoffs in amusement and smiles into the kiss you lean in for.

You nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck when you feel a yawn coming. “Let’s go to bed, okay?” He whispers, sensing your sleeping demeanour.

“Only if I can take you with me.” You whisper into his skin. He huffs a small laugh as he pushes you off him so he can stand and offers his arms down to you. You grab them and he pulls you up. Neither of you let go of each other's hand as you walk into the bedroom. “I’m just going to brush my teeth first, then I’ll be right with you.” Spencer announces. Still ever the germaphobe.

“I’m gonna join you, that nap made my mouth all dry.” You follow behind him. Spencer grabs both of your toothbrushes and holds them out, as you grab the toothpaste and squeeze an equal amount on each brush. You then take yours out of his hand and the two of you begin brushing. You’re both trying to make up for his time away by leaning into each other, stealing glances in the mirror and smiling if you get caught.

When you both finish up in the bathroom, you make your way back to the bedroom together. It's like both of you are incapable of being away from each other right now, even for a second. Spencer decides against changing into more comfortable clothes, wanting nothing more than to hold you. He joins you under the comforter, immediately pulling you as close to him as possible.

Neither of you have enough energy in you for conversation right now, you’re still sleepy from your previous nap and Spencer is entirely drained from the case. Still, you acknowledge each other through light touches and kisses. Spencer’s hand now makes its way to your hair while you draw little patterns against his chest.

‘I missed u’

‘I <3 u’

‘♡’

‘:)’

He doesn’t recognise the little messages, but he appreciates the feeling all the same. You begin drifting off into sleep, revelling in the warmth emitting from him. Spencer smiles when he hears light snores coming from you. He truly considers himself the luckiest man alive. You don’t hear it but before he drifts off himself, he makes his feelings known to the universe in a light whisper.

“I love you so much you know. I’m gonna marry you someday.”

Spoilers: Fluff, Domestic! Spencer, entirely fluffy & domestic. Literally a comfort blurb for the people who take hot showers for too long and just need a hug. AN - Hey so sorry for any errors, I drafted this in like 20 minutes to make up for the fact that my originally planned story for today would not be complete in time. Enjoy this short blurb. I was in a salty mood and made an entirely angst blurb too, but decided fluff was what society needed today. Also sorry for the shitty fucking title, my brain is shutting down. Also side note - I’m a WHORE for domestic! Spencer. I just loveeeeee when everyday tasks become so cute and fluffy and romantic. PLEASE recommend domestic Spencer stories!!! Update Schedule: Original plan drops Monday or Tuesday (Sunday or Monday night EST time). (I'm a liar, actually)

Feel free to drop helpful constructive criticism, I’m always looking to improve. Remember to stay real and respectful :)

Thank you for reading!

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zegrasdrysdale · 2 days

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Heyyy could I ask for an Ethan Edward’s fic where him and the reader have been together for about a year and a half or something and she unexpectedly goes into labour at the frozen four game, neither her nor Ethan had any idea that she was even pregnant.

[ a tiny surprise ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : Ethan’s girlfriend has to leave the Frozen Four game versus Boston College because she’s having intense cramps, but the biggest surprise of all time waits for her and Ethan when she gets to the hospital

warning(s) : labor and cramps, pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of period

author’s note : i thought this would be a good request to tackle since it’s mother’s day. so anon and everyone, enjoy !! <3

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From the moment she woke up that morning, she’s been cramping. It wasn’t any worse than her normal period cramps so she took some medicine and went on with her day. There was some pain in her lower back though. She wasn’t worried that it was something else. Sometimes there is some back pain when she’s dealing with period cramps.

They eventually got to a tolerable level where she wasn’t curled up in bed anymore so she got ready for the Frozen Four game that Ethan and Michigan are playing in that night. She throws on the jersey that Ethan left for her, drawers a ‘73’ on her cheek right under her eye, then heads down to the lobby where she’s meeting the other girlfriends so they can head to the game together.

For a moment in the elevator, it feels like her uterus is stabbing her right in the gut. She winces and doubles over in pain with a hand flat on the wall. She lays a hand on her stomach and breathes out until the cramp passes. Sometimes they get painful like this.

Hopefully one of the girls has some medicine she can take in a little bit.

Once she gets to the lobby, the girls pile into the bus that they rented as a group since the boys had to go to the arena early. She sits with her arms crossed over her belly because the cramps are stronger than normal.

Rutger’s girlfriend, Kayleigh, sits next to her as the bus pulls out of the hotel parking lot. “Hey, are you okay?” she questions as she lightly rests a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t look very good.”

“I don’t feel very good,” she admits with a light laugh. “I think my uterus is trying to kill me or something. I’ll be okay for the game.”

Kayleigh laughs. “Oh, I get it,” she replies. “I have Advil in my backpack if you need it. I can grab you a drink so you can take the meds too.”

“Thanks, Kay,” she says with a small smile. “Mind if I take some now? I’m really hurting.”

She nods and grabs the bottle of Advil out of her bag. As soon as the pills are in her hand, Kayleigh grabs her small water bottle and lets her take a sip to take the meds.

The ride to the Xcel Energy Center seems like an eternity because of how much pain she’s in. She’ll just have to push through the pain until after the game because she just wants to support her boyfriend in one of the most important games of his life. The Frozen Four games are always important games. She wants to be there for him.

When the bus arrives to the arena, the girls walk inside together. There is a half hour until puck drop so the boys are probably warming up on the ice. Or they’re about to start warming up.

She sits in a seat until the boys start warming up. Even after the medicine she took, it feels like the cramps are getting worse and closer together. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Ethan would’ve understood if she told him that she wasn’t feeling good. She would’ve watched on the television in the hotel room.

As soon as the boys come out for warmups, she stands up and cheers with the other girls. Ethan skates by and she bangs on the glass, trying to keep a smile on her face despite her insides trying to kill her. Ethan looks at her with a smile on his own face as he warms up.

Then it feels like someone kicks her in the gut. She cries out in pain and wraps an arm around her stomach. Kay is right at her side. “Sit down for a second,” she orders. “I don’t think standing helps cramps. The Advil should kick in soon.”

“They’re never this bad,” she says. Her voice is so shaky. “I’ve taken so much medicine. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

There’s banging on the glass in front of her. She looks up and sees Ethan. “What’s wrong?” he shouts. His voice is able to carry over the glass because fans are still making their way to the ice from the concourse.

Kayleigh taps her stomach in response to Ethan. “Bad,” Kay yells back.

“I’m fine,” she reiterates. “Meds just need to kick in.”

“Are you sure?” Kay asks. “I don’t think he’ll be mad if you need to go to the hotel, or the emergency room since I think every urgent care in the area is closed now.”

She looks up at Kayleigh and Ethan. “The emergency room?” she questions. “They’re just really intense period cramps.”

Ethan points up the steps. “Go to the ER, baby,” he calls. “It’s okay. I know you’ll be watching.” With a frown, she shakes her head. “Please. You’re never in this much pain. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

Kay helps her stand up even though she doesn’t want to go. “I have her, E,” she calls. “Can you tell Rut?” Ethan nods.

He holds up half a hand heart. She holds the other half up before she and Kayleigh slowly make their way up the steps.

As soon as they’re on the concourse, another more painful cramp hits her. Her entire body shakes with pain and she groans. “Kay, hold on,” she begs. “I can’t-”

Something starts dripping down her leg, wetting her leggings. Confused, she looks down and sees a puddle at her feet. It’s clear fluid. She looks back up at Kayleigh.

“What is that?” Kayleigh asks.

“I don’t- ah!” she cries out in pain again. Her legs almost give out and Kayleigh has to hold her weight.

“Okay, I’m calling an ambulance,” Kayleigh explains as she sits her friend against the wall. “You’re in too much pain to walk and clearly something is very wrong.”

She nods as Kayleigh dials 9-1-1 and tells them what’s going on. Her entire body shakes and she has to curl up in a ball to elevate some of her pain. Some of the medical staff has come over to her to try and help. She’s in too much pain to speak.

When paramedics do arrive, Kayleigh manages to let her go to the hospital with them. She also has to do some begging, and she mentions that their boyfriends are on the ice at the moment and there is no one else to go with her.

She’s given some morphine on the ambulance, but it doesn’t do much. The ride is shorter than the ride to the arena from the hotel.

When she gets to the emergency room, they do an exam. When they poke at her stomach, they decide to do an ultrasound because of how ridged her torso is.

The doctor comes back with the machine and puts some of that cool gel on her belly. She grips Kayleigh’s hand as another cramp hits. She bites her lip and winces in pain.

“Miss, did you know you are pregnant?” the doctor asks after a moment.

Her eyes widen. “Pregnant?” she questions. “There’s no way. I still have a period and I never gained any weight. I have no belly.”

The doctor turns the screen in her and Kayleigh’s direction. On the screen is a full term baby. “That’s your baby,” the doctor explains. “And this baby is coming in the next hour or so. Your water has broken, which is what happened at the hockey game.”

“My baby,” she echoes. She blinks and begins to panic. “I have a baby? Oh my God. Ethan has no idea and he’s on the ice.”

Kayleigh asks, “Do you want me to call someone to get him so he’s here?” She nods. Kay disappears a second later to make a phone call.

As the doctor wipes away the gel, she says, “I’m going to get you admitted to the maternity ward and into a labor suite.”

“How is this possible?” she questions as the doctor pulls the jersey back down. “I mean, I had no idea. No signs.”

“It’s rare but it might be because you have two uteruses,” the doctor explains. “One continues to have a period and the other holds the baby. I don’t know why you didn’t show but it happens sometimes. Most women have a belly, some don’t show much or at all.” She puts away the wand and stands up. “I’ll be right back.”

She nods and rests her hands on her belly. Somehow, there is a baby in there. She had no idea that she was even pregnant. Neither did Ethan.

He’s going to be in for the biggest surprise of his life in a few minutes.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

She has never screamed more in her life than she has in the last hour. Her contractions, not cramps, are intense and close together. This baby is coming, and Ethan isn’t here yet.

Kayleigh got a hold of someone, who got a hold of Naurato, who told Ethan what was going on. He said he was leaving as soon as he could, but he’s still not here.

“Where is he?” she cries out as she feels a contraction. “I need Ethan. Now!”

“He’s on his way,” Kayleigh tells her. “He left during one of the TV timeouts. He should be almost here.”

Her OB is checking to see how many centimeters she’s dialated. “Okay, you’re ten centimeters,” she explains. “I can wait a few more minutes but this baby is coming.”

Another contraction and she screams. She grips Kay’s hand so hard she’s afraid she might’ve broken her hand. She feels bad but she needed something to hold.

“I need to wait for my boyfriend,” she pants as soon as the contraction passes. “Please.”

Her OB nods and leaves the room. She looks up at Kay. “Let me go see where he is,” Kayleigh tells her. “Give me literally ten seconds and I’ll be right back, okay?” She nods and breathes.

Kayleigh walks out of the room and she looks out the window. Looking outside helps her stay calm sometimes, even when she’s in sudden, active labor with a baby she didn’t know she was carrying.

Another contraction hits and she takes deep breaths. The door opens a second later and she’s ready to beg the doctor to wait for Ethan when she sees her boyfriend running in the room. He’s still in full gear, minus his helmet and skates. “Oh my God, baby,” he gasps when he sees her on the bed. “How is this-”

“I have no idea,” she replies as Ethan presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “All I know is that in a few minutes, we are going to have a baby. I’m scared.”

Ethan grabs her hand and kisses it. “I’m right here,” he assures her. “I’m right beside you through this, okay? I love you and I love our little baby even though neither of us knew.”

Her OB comes back in as she nods. “Are you dad?” her doctor asks. Ethan nods in reply. “Great. We need to push on the next contraction, okay?”

She grabs Ethan’s hand and sits up a bit. As soon as the next contraction hits, she pushes as hard as she can. She screams in a lot of pain since it feels like her body is tearing in two. Ethan has a hand on her back and helps her out. Kayleigh stands on her other side as she pushes.

When she takes a break from pushing, she looks at Ethan. “How are you guys doing?” she questions. “Are you winning?”

He shakes his head. “No, but it’s fine,” he tells her. “I’d rather be here with you. The guys told me to be here with you when Naurato told me what was going on.”

“Full hockey gear,” she teases him.

“I needed to be here for the birth of our baby,” he replies with a smile.

She smiles right back, but it’s short lived as another contraction hits. She pushes more. Her OB tells her to push a little longer.

Then the sound of a baby crying fills the room. She feels almost immediate relief between her legs a second later. She slumps back against the pillows as the doctor stands up with a baby in her arms.

“Congratulations, mom and dad,” she says with a smile. “You have a beautiful baby boy.”

She smiles at the crying baby as he’s handed to her. “Hi, baby boy,” she laughs. “You were quite the surprise.”

Ethan is given the chance to cut the umbilical cord and is right beside her. He puts a little blue hat on the baby’s head as he stops trying. She gives the baby her finger and he seems content.

The OB cleans her up a bit then takes the baby to clean him up. Her eyes never leave her son. “E, we don’t have a name for him,” she realizes out loud.

“We don’t have to think of one at this moment,” Ethan tells her. “I mean, up until an hour ago, we didn’t even know about him. I think we can take a day or two before we name him.”

She nods as her son is handed back to her. The OB leaves the room. Kayleigh snaps a picture of the three of them and says, “Sending this to Rut so he can show the guys. I think they’ll want to know that a future hockey star was just born.”

Ethan laughs and Kayleigh leaves the room to give them a moment alone with their baby boy. She caresses her son’s cheek and tears up.

“I already love him,” she admits. “This is our son, Ethan. We have a baby.”

He kisses the side of her head. “You’re gonna be the best mom,” he tells her. She looks up at him. Ethan wipes away the tears that have rolled down her cheeks. “We’re going to be the best parents. The team is going to spoil him so much.”

“So are we,” she laughs as she looks down at baby boy Edwards. “We have nine months of lost time to make up for since he decided to be a little surprise.”

Ethan laughs and gives his son one of his fingers. “We do.”

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MASTERLIST

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taglist : @dasiysthings @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34 @bunbunbl0gs @marie7366 @naughty-box

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #hockey fluff #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl fluff #umich hockey fic #umich fic #ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards fluff #zegrasdrysdale request

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jellybeanium124 · 3 days

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Helpful lists of questions for goyim when it comes to engaging with the Israel-Hamas war 🙂

QUESTIONS TO ASK YOURSELF WHEN A POST ABOUT THE ISRAEL-HAMAS WAR CROSSES YOUR DASH AND YOU WANT TO REBLOG IT:

Does this post link to a source?

If the post does link to a source, is it a credible one?

If the post does not link to a source, is there one screenshotted in the post that you can find? If so, please search out that source and read the entire thing in context. And make sure the source is credible. Ideally, if you decide to reblog it, add a link to the source.

Is the post just screenshots of tweets? If so, you probably should not reblog this. Posts that are just screenshots of tweets are a massive red flag. Do not believe something because it's a twitter screenshot. Frankly this rule is for everyone about everything all the time.

What is the tone of the post? Does it make you angry? If yes, this is a red flag. Exercise caution reblogging.

Does the post frame Israel as a uniquely evil country in need of destruction? Does the post treat Israel with different standards than those that are applied to every other country that has done horrible, horrible things, such as Russia, the UK, or United States? This is a red flag. If the government of Israel falls without some sort of transition plan, there will be Jewish genocide. Anyone advocating for a one-state solution either way is advocating for one group to get genocided. A two-state solution is the only possible peaceful end to this conflict (technically my opinion but I feel comfy stating it as fact).

Does the post treat Hamas as anything other than a terrorist organization? Do not reblog.

Is the post promoting Jewish Voice for Peace/JVP? Do not reblog. That organization is not Jewish and is antisemitic.

What is the focus of the content of the post? Is the post discussing reasonable paths to a ceasefire/peace? Is the post criticizing Israel's actions without using antisemitic stereotypes? Netanyahu is a disgusting fascist who I hate, but even though he is a terrible person you are not allowed to portray him as an antisemitic caricature. Similar to how you don't get to misgender shitty trans people, you don't get to be antisemitic towards shitty Jewish people (even if he's really, really shitty).

How does the post use the word "zionist?" Does the word have any coherent meaning in the post besides "person (often Jew) that I hate?" Does it treat zionists as a group of people who are disgusting and deserve to be murdered and/or raped? Does the use of the word "zionist" completely dehumanize the person/people the label is applied to into nothing more than evil that the Earth must be rid of? This is antisemitic. Do not reblog.

QUESTIONS TO ASK YOURSELF WHEN YOU'RE AT A PRO-PALESTINE PROTEST:

Are people chanting antisemitic slogans such as "globalize the intifada" and/or "from the river to the sea" (these are both antisemitic you cannot remove the antisemitic meaning from them, they are both advocating for the murder of Jewish people, sorry, stop using them.)?

Are people comparing themselves to Palestinians in Gaza? (this is not a joke, I saw a video of a Columbia student who compared Columbia sending out fliers to leave or be suspended to the IDF dropping flyers in Gaza saying "the army is coming in 24 hours.") If so, they care more about fetishizing Palestinian pain and making themselves feel like noble victims than the Israel-Palestine conflict.

Are people harassing Jews? This includes: preventing them from getting to class, yelling things at them like "go back to Poland," and/or physically assaulting them.

Are people defacing Jewish property/monuments? Are people defacing synagogues? Businesses with known Jewish owners? Statues and/or memorials of/for Jews?

What is the purpose of this protest? Would you feel comfortable sharing opinions that differ from the majority? Would you feel comfortable engaging in a conversation about this issue with fellow protesters? Are any of you actually educated on the complicated and lengthy history of the Israel-Palestine conflict? Is the protest about a peaceful solution, or is it just making you angrier and/or more upset? Does the protest/your fellow protestors care more about freeing Palestine so that Palestinians and Israelis can live in peace, or about hating Israel and treating it like a uniquely evil country?

If people are chanting antisemitic slogans, harassing Jews, and/or defacing Jewish things, then this is an antisemitic protest. Do you want to be associated with these people and this protest? If your answer is yes, you are an antisemite-sympathizer, which is basically an antisemite.

MORAL OF THE STORY: antisemitism is all over this issue and it's easy to get more antisemitic and spread antisemitism because bad actors use this issue to indoctrinate people who start off just genuinely caring about the issue but are not educated at all about it or what antisemitism actually looks like. BE CAREFUL. All Jews want, all we've ever wanted, is to be left alone to do our thing. Random Jews are not at fault for the horrific actions taken by the Israeli government since the terrorist attack on October 7th. We support the existence of Israel, but we do not support all of the current government's actions. We are just trying to live. We want there to be a ceasefire now. If you actually read this whole thing, thank you. It means a lot to be listened to.

For those of you that made it to the end, I'll offer one last reminder and one last gentle suggestion.

My last reminder is: "it is not your job to finish the work by neither are you free to ignore it" is a Jewish passage I really like. I think in times like these, it is important to focus on the first half. It is not your job to finish the work. The fate of Palestine does not rest on your shoulders. It's ok. Take time to decompress and log off.

My last suggestion is: one of the biggest Jewish values is "tikkun olam," which means "repairing the world." I think all action when it comes to this conflict (and life in general) should be done with tikkun olam in mind. It doesn't hurt to ask yourself "is this action repairing the world, or further tearing it apart?" no matter what you're doing. Thank you for reading.

#jumblr

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idunnowhattowriteheretbh · 1 day

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Soooooooooo I finished the weapons :D

I don't have much ideas for what to write in here so imma just drop the designs and continue suffering in school skkskskksk

First we gooooot

Bear Axe 2

@beartitled (apologies for the puns I couldn't help myself)

Then we have the comically large hammer

Le Bonker 1000

@insomniphic I'm kinda curious to see how would you lift ot ngl

And then we have the last weapon for Captain! :D

Captain's Staff

@braisedhoney

The staff was the most fun to draw tbh

Also I was this 🤏 close to fully shading the axe and the staff lmao

Anyway time for me to skedadle back into my cave before COL finds me /silly

- CR2868

#hmmmm what do i write in tags- eh imma just drop something and maybe add some later #hhhhhhh brain empty >:[[#fun fact: the staff was the most pain in the ass to make cuz i couldn't figure out how it would look and then when i figured it out it was #very fun to colour so imma probably draw few other weapons with this kind of hardlight blade #also very pretty #hmmm i dont have much time and i dont want to risk that tumblr is gonna post this twice-#tags speedrun time #i need sleep #my art #amari art #digital art #artists on tumblr #weapon #hive #now that i think about it ill try to doodle some hive sona shenanigans cuz why not #though i didnt draw anything for my Narrator lmao #also i was thinking about drawing attack variations for the weapons so i might doodle it later if brain won't go empty lol #hhhhhhh time for me to suffer again-#i hope yall like the weapons

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stinmybubs · 21 hours

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“Do It For Us.” Pt.1 1k likes special !

Summary: A simple girl, quirkless and will never amount to anything! Well that’s what’s she’s been told. Bullied along side Izuku Midorya, her best friend, and long term crush. Getting into UA and having a quirk? And she’s left behind…what’s left for her?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: bullying, domestic abuse, and violence!! NOT PROOFREAD !!

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader! x B.Katsuki?

Quirkless. A label that’s been slapped onto you for as long as you can remember, something you couldn’t control. But you still got punish all your life, you were bullied, scorned, and outcasted by others and your own family. But.

You had Izuku Midoriya, another quirkless person. You weren’t suffering alone!

That’s what you thought at least.

For the longest time you’ve stayed by Izuku’s side, defending him from bullies, taking the hit for him. But he always had this big ambition to be a hero, you of course encouraged him.

“One day! Even though I don’t have a quirk…I’ll be just like him. I’ll make people feel safe!” The small boy exclaimed, the biggest smile painted across his face, and you admired that. You admired every part of this boy.

“Yeah! You’ll be the greatest hero! Show them all Izu, show them we can help…do it for us!” You wanted to share this moment, you wanted to be happy with him about this dream. All you could do was hope, but deep down you felt dread, knowing his dream could never be fulfilled.

“Y/n! Y/n l/n! Get your ass downstairs IMMEDIATELY.” Hearing the screams of your father, your heart dropping at the sudden call.

You heart raced with every step, trying your best to keep your composure before even reaching the bottom of the steps.

“Ye-“ before you could even utter a word you felt a sharp pain against your cheek. The hit was so strong you collapsed to the floor, the feeling of tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“What is this!?” Your father slammed a bunch of papers onto you. It was your test scores. C- and D+ written on all of them.

“I…I…I’m sorry father I-“ your words cut off with another slap to your face.

“First no quirk! Then you keep bringing these home? How useless are you? I expected you to at least to be smart since you’re quirkless.” Your father insulted you, and all you could do was sit there and stare at the floor trying to contain all your tears and rage.

It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t control whether you had a quirk. It was your parents fault, something in their genetics made you this way! Is what you wanted to think.

“Go back to your room. Fucking shit…” your father turned to walk away, your mother making dinner in the kitchen not having a care in the world for your well being.

You frantically pick up the papers scattered on the floor, tears streaming down your face as you run back up the stairs to hide in your room.

All you could do was throw your papers on the floor and rush to your small closet. You’ve always hid in your closet, not even your bed or your room felt safe when things like this happened. The small cramped space made you feel safe.

Curling up in a ball, 15 year old you cried. Cried for hours until you fell asleep in that closet.

The next morning you quickly got ready before anyone could wake. Sneaking yourself food for breakfast and lunch.

As you make your way down to you and Izuku’s meeting spot you couldn’t help but think. Of how your mother wasn’t always like this, she used to defend you, she used to help you.

She used to love you.

But after all the bearings, after all the insulting she finally stopped. So broken down to the point where she couldn’t even look at you anymore. You couldn’t help but hate her for it, you needed her.

“Hey! Oh…what happened…?” Izuku quickly ran up to you.

You didn’t even notice the boy until his hand placed itself upon your cheek to make you look at him, the sting of the bruise made you flinch.

“Oh…! Uh…bullies ahah..got me last night.” You lied. The last thing you wanted to do was worry Izuku about your home life, he never knew about your family. And he never will.

“Ah..I’m sorry y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t get to walk you home last night.” He pulled you into a tight hug, tears begging to run down the boys face. You hugged him back, finding comfort in his warmth. A perfect morning. You thought.

You two chat, wiping the tears from each others eyes and make your way to your middle school.

You loved every bit of Izuku’s company, it felt safe, it felt like home.

“Yeah! Then Mount lady came in and-“ Izuku rambled on and on about the fight that happened with an amateur villain this morning. “Woah! I love Mount lady! She’s so cool.” You state, imagining what Izuku was describing.

“You know it would be cool if Mount lady could control her size! Like what if she could…” Izuku began to mutter again. Oh how you found this habit so cute. When this happened you sat and listened until he realized what he’s doing and get flustered as always.

The school day was hell, you and Izuku getting picked on by Bakugou Katsuki and his little gang all day.

“I would pass out career forms but we all know…-!” The teacher went on to talk about the hero tracks, with everyone celebrating.

“Oh yeah, Izuku Midorya didn’t you want to attend UA too?”

What…?

You quickly look over at your friend as soon as the class starts to burst into laughter. You didn’t know how to feel, you though he might’ve given up that dream already. But he hasn’t. Hah…I guess you never give up Izu.

After the commotion and class was over you padded over to Izuku hugging him from his shoulders behind him. “Gotcha Izu!” You giggle as the startled boy let out a yelp.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared!” You laugh looking over to see what he was writing. Cute! You thought seeing the notes on other heros quirks.

“How could a quirkless guy like you have a girlfriend?” Oh boy. One of Katsuki’s lackies stated, even though you weren’t his girlfriend you never will deny not being his.

“Don’t ya’ dare even try useless Deku! Once I am the only-“ you tune out Katsuki’s words, anger filling your body, your smiled immediately fading into a frown. Letting go of Izuku as the frightened boy jolted up out of his seat.

“What’s this!? He’s writing about being a hero!?”

Your heart dropped when Katsuki grabbed the notebook, your blood boiling at soon as he exploded the notebook your best friend work so hard on and throwing it out the window like it was trash.

You couldn’t control yourself, all you felt was pent up anger and you could help but run to Bakugou and.

SLAP. The noise echoed throughout the empty classroom. Adrenaline rushing through your body, realizing what you’ve done.

“You bully! You’re the pathetic one for bullying helpless people with your quirks! We never asked for this! We couldn’t control whether we are quirkless or not! Why should we be punished? It’s unfair and-“ you quickly shut your mouth. Realizing everything was pouring out in that moment, and realizing the anger in the the boys red eyes.

You had slapped Katsuki Bakugou. And now all you felt was fear, quickly trying to retreat before Bakugou grabbed your wrist tightly. “Ow-!” You wince in pin at the grip, it felt like he was going to snap your wrist.

“Kachann stop!” Izuku put himself between you and the blonde. “You can hurt me but you should never hurt a girl!” He states a angrily. Bakugou simply huffed, finally letting go of your wrist and stomping out the classroom.

You wince in pain, grabbing your own wrist taking a good look. “It’s already bruising…” you slump in one of the nearby chairs. You really wanted to cry, but you couldn’t. You’re were too tired.

“I’m sorry…” feeling the warmth of Izuku’s hug felt a bit better, but you were just so tired of feeling so helpless, useless, and weak.

You try everything not to go home, sitting there on a park bench for what felt like ages. It’s not like you haven’t done this before, sleeping outside to avoid your parents.

“I’ll sleep in the park…I didn’t eat lunch so I have dinner..” you sigh, taking out the bag of food you packed, staring at the onigiri in your hand.

“Oi’ the hell you doin here.” Your heart sank, hearing the angry voice of Bakugou. “N-none of your business..” you don’t even look up at him. You just start opening up your onigiri.

“It’s gettin’ dark. A girl shoul-“ you cut him off. “What’s it to you huh!?” You yell, taking a bite out of your food just hoping he goes away. Praying he doesn’t keep talking to you.

A long pause of silence. Thinking he’s gone the tears roll down your face, falling onto your skirt as your hands begin to shake.

“Those bruises…aren’t from bullies aren’t they.”

He was still there. Your face flushed out of embarrassment. “What!? They..” you didn’t know why but…everything just flooded out.

“No…they’re from my dad…you’re not the only one who hates quirkless people.” You chuckle lightly, looking up at the blonde boy tears running down your face.

“Come.” He simply states, turning away from you, “What…?” You question, not knowing what he meant.

“You comin or nah?” He looks back at you, noticing the kind of rough state he’s in. Did he get in a fight? You thought, standing up to follow him.

You didn’t know why you were following him. You didn’t know why you didn’t feel so scared anymore.

Bakugou led you to his home, opening the door carefully and quietly. You guessed you didn’t want his parents to find out he was bringing home a girl.

Well Bakugou wasn’t sneaky enough.

“KATSUKI BAKUGOU!” The sound of his yelling mother made you flinch, subconsciously grabbing onto the back of his shirt. It’s smelt of smoke and grime.

“ugh…” you heard the boy groan he clearly wasn’t in the mood for his mom, when is he ever in the mood? You thought.

“YOU WENT AND GIT CAUGHT BY A VIL-“ Seeing the spikey-blonde hair women approach, she suddenly stopped in her tracks seeing you cowering behind her son. Woah…Bakugou looks exactly like her.

“A GIRL!? MASARU ITS FINALLY HAPPENING!”

“Stop yellin’ yer scarin her.” Katsuki stated, looking back at your cowering figure. You jump, realizing that you were holding on to him and quickly stand beside him, a bit flustered.

“Oh! I’m sorry, what’s your name sweetheart!” She leans a bit forward trying to get a look at your face, noticing the bruise on your wrist.

“It’s…Y/n.” You meekly look up at her, terrified to meet someone else’s parent. Hell you barley even met Izuku’s mom!

“Oh my..what happened to…KATSUKI DID YOU DO THIS!?” The pointed to your face, noticing the bruises on both sides of your cheeks. Oh! You forgot you had those, ever since Izuku mentioned them at least.

“No you old hag! And stop yer yellin!” Natsuki hissed, defending himself. Well he did bruise your wrist but he never slapped you. “No! It’s wasn’t him…it was…” you trailed off, clearly the topic wasn’t something you wanted to talk about.

“Oh..! Well my name is Mitsuki Bakugou… you can stay here as long as you want. Come to me if you need anything sweetheart.” She placed a hand on your cheek, it was gentle and warm. It felt nice.

You couldn’t help but lean into her touch, feeling a mothers love is something you craved for the longest time. Tears began rolling down your cheeks, running to Katsuki’s mom hugging her.

Katsuki’s eyes widened at your sudden actions, surprised that you went to hug his mother. Is it that bad? He thought, a sense of guilt and sympathy washing over him, watching you cry in his mothers arms.

After a few tears, and hugs, Mitsuki sent you off to wash up. You were sleeping in Katsuki’s room! That is until they put a bed into their office room. You felt bad for Intruding in their home, sinking into the hot water.

This home was so loving regardless of the yelling, they felt so natural so different. You were jealous of their happy home.

Mitsuki had given you some spare clothes, of course you weren’t sure if you’d fit her underwear at all, she said that you two would go out and buy some together, this was all happening so fast. You felt so guilty.

Turns out a grown women’s shorts cannot fit onto your adolescence body! Her shirt was a little baggy too, your brah also was in the wash! So looks like you were only wearing panties and a shirt to bed. Which was embarrassing.

Katsuki was laying on a futon on the floor, he was kind enough to lend you his bed.

“H-hey…Bakugou…why..why are you doing this?” You question, turning yourself over to face him.

“Dunno…just cuz..” what a vague answer he gave you. You probably knew it was for pity, or maybe your outburst put a bit of sympathy in his heart.

“I’ll be gone by tomorrow…don’t worry you won’t have a quirkless loser in your home.” Katsuki flinched at your words, a sense of guilt still in him for saying those things to you and Izuku.

“Like my ma said. Stay as long as you need. Don go back to yer parents…or yknow.” He turned over to look at you, the both of you making eye contact for a minute.

“Thanks…thank you.” You smile softly at him, letting your eyes close to get a peaceful nights worth of sleep.

AN: This will be a couple of parts! A short story :) I hope you all enjoy some soft Bakugou and Some Izuku! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY POSTS I LOVE ALL OF YOU MWAH here’s more XoXo Stinmybubs!!!

#mha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #mha writing #mha fanfiction #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha angst #izuku angst #bnha izuku #mha izuku #izuku x reader #deku angst #deku x reader #bnha deku #mha deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader

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kaitou-kid-my-beloved · 2 days

Text

The Ghost-type Detective CH1 (Based on the Phantump Conan AU by @livmadart)

(Ao3 link)

Shinichi was so stupid. He was an idiot, a gosh darn fool. And now, because of his disregard for his own safety, he was… he was…

He choked on the pain, closed his eyes against the burn, and wished for all it was worth that it would just end faster. He knew, deep in the recesses of his decaying heart that it would end, and there was only one way that it would.

The small sliver of his brain that wasn’t consumed with agony was swirling with thoughts, hopes and regrets. What was Ran going to think? He’d never wanted to do this to her… He had no idea what had happened to Sherlock- his pokeball had been taken when Shinichi had been hit. All he could do… all he could do was hope they’d be alright…. Alright without him.

He could feel the moment his heart stopped.

He wasn’t breathing, his heart wasn’t beating, and he was still in the most agony he thought possible. After a few excruciating, infinite moments, everything stopped. The pain vanished, his vision faded, the sounds of the park dropped away, and even gravity itself stopped holding onto him.

So… he was dead, then.

Honestly, for a moment all he could feel was relief. The pain was gone, and in those last moments that had been all he’d wanted. He’d never imagined anything could burn like that. The pain of death, he supposed.

In the next moment, he realized something. He was still thinking. He had none of his senses, he hadn’t even a vague idea of his surroundings, but he was still thinking. He still had a mind. He sure, one hundred percent sure that he was dead, so… what was this? He waited a moment more. Nothing changed. He was still alone with his thoughts, trapped in this void.

Moment after moment passed, he had no idea how long it had been. His mind swirled with overlapping thoughts, the only thing he was capable of. Was this it? Was this all there was for him? This nothingness with only himself for company?... Forever?

He discovered something. When you’re made of nothing but thought and emotion, fear is a powerful thing.

He didn’t want to stay like this, the idea sent chills of panic through him that rattled his whole being. No no no no no. He mentally cast about, searching wildly for anything else, anything besides himself.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be trapped like this, he… he really didn’t want to be dead. Gosh, Ran, Sonoko, everyone… he couldn’t stand the idea of never finding out what happened to them. He’d thought that he might be at least able to- to observe or something, not, not…

He felt something.

There, a flash of… of warmth. The first physical feeling he’d had since losing his life. With that one sensation to ground himself, he could determine that he existed in some capacity outside his own mind, and he could tell that the warmth was coming from the left. There was a left! He latched onto it, with all of his fragile being, and pulled with all his mental strength. It got bigger- or, maybe he got closer to it?

It was so warm- almost hot, but that was fine, because it was something. He really did feel like he was getting closer, almost close enough to touch it…

All at once, his five senses returned.

He could feel the cool night breeze brushing against him, he felt heavy again- though, not nearly as heavy as he thought he should. He smelled sugar, and meat from the amusement park, and he could hear the last lingering screams of delight from the remaining guests on the rides. He blinked, finding he had eyelids to move.

Immediately, he wished that he had never opened his eyes at all. The moonlight shone down on the little clearing behind the ferris wheel building, illuminating the corpse cooling on the grass. Shinichi’s corpse. It lay there, contorted in an odd position, eyes wide open and glazed. Blood stained the area crimson red, having spilled liberally from anywhere it could have.

He felt like he was going to be sick. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Ran that he was unfazed by gruesome sights, but this… this was him.

Still, when he’d regained his awareness of the world, he’d hoped that somehow, somehow he’d survived. Maybe someone had found him and resuscitated him or something, or that his heart had restarted as a fluke, but… The third person perspective of his own broken corpse wasn’t reassuring. But, if he hadn’t returned to his old body, then…

He looked down at himself, and felt sick for an entirely new reason. The body he’d found himself in was… well, whatever it was, it wasn’t human.

He didn't quite have legs anymore, or anything really. This new body of his was a simple tendril of gray, with two smaller nubs for arms. When he tried to move his hands, the nubs curled. Such a simple action, yet it made his head spin. It was so incredibly strange, he was supposed to have fingers, legs, toes, anything, but suddenly he didn’t anymore.

Slowly, ever so slowly, ignoring the roiling feeling in his gut (did he have one of those anymore?) He reached up and touched his face. He felt… wood. The bark of a tree, rigid and cold, nothing like the human skin that he remembered. He opened his mouth, taking a deep, shuddering breath in, the bark moving to accommodate the action.

He pulled his nubs closer to his chest; new, unfamiliar instincts guiding his tail to curl around his body. He tried, desperately, to clear his mind. He knew that if he kept thinking, that very soon he’d figure out what was going on, and for once in his existence he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to realize what had happened, he didn’t want to figure out what he was. He’d just… sit here for a bit. Enjoy not being dead, and ignore everything else.

Despite himself, his mind kept moving.

He’d… he’d died on the edge of the forest that ran through this part of the park. Sure, his corpse was lying on carefully mown grass, but he had a feeling it was close enough. When he’d been younger, his mom had told him scary stories of kids who wandered into the trees and never returned… as humans, anyway. At the time, he’d been fascinated. The presence of a certain, rare pokemon in the forest being an indicator of missing kids? It was something he might use, as a detective.

Now…

The pokemon in question were called a ‘Phantump’, they were little ghost-grass types that often arose from kids dying in forests, and their souls possessing tree stumps. Of course, many of them were natural born pokemon, but the stories had clouded their reputation as long as they’d existed.

This is what I get for dying in the woods behind Tropical Land, Shinichi thought bitterly, winding his tail even closer around himself. The proximity to the trees was enough. Sixteen was young enough. The newly cut stump just at the edge of the grass, the same one Shinichi was currently perched on, was more than enough.

He screwed his eyes shut, shoving his nubs into the holes in his bark to hold them that way. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t happening. Any moment now his alarm would go off telling him it was time to get ready for Tropical Land, or he’d wake up in the hospital with that nasty head trauma, something, anything.

He didn’t believe any of that, of course, but it was a sweet little lie, and he needed a little sweetness after tasting his bitter new reality.

“Woah, I’ve never seen that happen before,” Shinichi froze, the little whisper carrying down to him from the trees above. A witness?

“No duh,” Another voice hissed. Shinichi carefully pulled his nubs away from his eyes, opening them and loosening his tail.

“Do you think he's okay?” Yet a third voice whispered. All three of them were coming from the tree above, what…

“Think about that real hard,” The second voice sighed. It almost sounded like a man, a man with a high, whistling tone. So, nothing like a regular man, but still.

“Should we do something?” The first voice chittered, her tone laced with anxiety. “I feel like there’s something we’re supposed to do in this situation,” The way she spoke, it almost sounded like-

Oh. They were pokemon. Their strange, whistling chirping voices weren’t human. They were pokemon.

Carefully, and with quite a bit more hesitance than he might use normally, Shinichi looked up, craning his neck to see into the trees above. Sitting there, staring down at him in obvious concern, were three pokemon. A pidgey, a hoothoot, and a sentret.

“...Do you think he can hear us?” The third voice, the one belonging to the sentret, whispered.

“I’m gonna go with yes,” The hoothoot, owner of the second voice, sighed.

“Hello!” The pidgey called down to him. “Are you alright?”

Shinichi blinked up at them. What his ears were hearing and what his eyes were seeing didn’t quite agree. Pokemon should not be able to speak in a language he could understand. He was sure there were logical explanations for this, but he buried them. Cover it all in sweet little lies.

“Again, no, he is obviously not alright, what is wrong with you?” The hoothoot said, rolling his massive eyes. The pidgey ignored him, rolling her own eyes before hopping off the branch and gliding down to Shinichi’s stump. He startled as she landed in front of him, his tail twitching.

“Hmmm,” she hummed, looking him over. He blinked at her, his skin crawling with the sudden acute attention. “You do seem physically alright… how are you feeling?”

He didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound. He had a sickly creeping feeling that if he did, quite a few of those sweet lies would dissolve. He didn’t want that, not yet.

“Oh no, can he not speak?” The sentret fretted.

“Well, that’s not unthinkable,” The hoothoot tilted his head in interest. “Most pokemon can speak very little at birth, after all,” Shinichi winced, electing to ignore him from now on. “Then again I know little about ghost types, perhaps we should contact a pokemon who does?” Yes, a very good thing Shinichi had decided to ignore him.

“Oh yeah! That’s what you’re supposed to do! Get another ghost!” The pidgey suddenly chirped, hopping at the edge of the stump. “I’ll go do that, ‘kay? Wait here!” She took off in the next second, the wind from her wings shaking his leaves.

…He was going to ignore that, too.

“There she goes,” The sentret sighed, wiggling a little before jumping down into the grass. She waddled up to him, moving much less suddenly than that pidgey had. “My name is Stripes, the old hoothoot up there is Mike, and the pidgey is just Pidgey,” She nodded to him, putting a paw on her chest. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” He didn’t say anything, shoving the rise of… something into the back of his mind with the rest of his thoughts.

“It’s certainly interesting to meet you,” Mike hummed, still staring down at him with interest. Shinichi wasn’t sure he much liked that look.

“I found her!” The chirping voice of Pidgey drifted through the trees, and she reappeared a moment later, landing on Stripes’s head.

“Who?” Mike asked, tilting his head the other direction.

“Me,” A new voice said. This one was oddly, almost human, with a slippery gravel sort tone to it that Shinichi could have sworn he’d heard before. He strained his eyes for the source of the voice, staring hard into the shadows Pidgey had emerged from. For a moment, he couldn’t see anything, then a shape seemed to coalesce out of the darkness. Large and rounded with pointed spikes, and huge, toothy grin. A tremor ran through his whole body at the sight. A wild gengar.

“Oh! Haruna!” Stripes said, turning to face the newcomer. She sounded pleasantly surprised.

“Who else?” Pidgey huffed proudly. “I can’t think of any other ghost types in these woods.”

“Well,” Mike commented. “Not anymore.”

“So this is him, then?” the gengar, Haruna, hummed, taking in the whole scene before her luminous red eyes landed squarely on Shinichi’s new form. He did his best not to shake, but even in the best of circumstances being the center of a wild gengar’s attention was a bad thing. “Oh don’t worry little thing, I’m not going to hurt you,” She purred, stepping right up to his stump.

She towered over him like this, her teeth glinting in the moonlight and her large, searching eyes boring right into his. Still, he didn’t say anything, didn’t make a single noise even as she reached for him. She wrapped her cold claws around him, pulling him into the air, away from the stump. His tail drifted in the wind as she held his small body aloft, looking him over in much the same way Pidgey had.

“He hasn’t spoken yet?” She murmured, glancing at the other pokemon.

“Hasn’t made a single sound,” Mike shook his head.

“Oh, I understand that,” She hummed, refocusing back on him. “That’s alright, you don’t need to speak yet, you don’t have to speak at all if you don’t want to,” She pulled him close, holding him tight against her cold fur. He couldn’t help it, he was shaking now. “It’s all new, isn’t it? I’ve been where you are, I know how hard everything is at the start.”

He looked up at her, her scarlet eyes gleaming with nothing but genuine empathy and care. Was she really…?

“It’s alright,” She grinned. “I can help you!”

#detective conan #dcmk #dcmk x pokemon #rosie writes #phantump conan au #thank you so much Liv for the AU #I will never stop gushing about it <3

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alltheirdamn · 7 hours

Text

Crush | Jackson Joel x f!reader

Song inspo: Crush by Ethel Cain

Summary: After sharing a late-night smoke with a stranger, you let him take you home to his place... Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: pure filth, porn with not a whole lot of plot, cigarettes/smoking, alcohol, flirting, light banter, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroat, rimming, anal play, spanking, rough unprotected piv sex, filthy talk, pet names (sweetheart, good girl), language, creampie, joel is a filthy bitch per usual A/N: If Joel isn't the most Ethel Cain coded man ever written I dont know what else to tell you.

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

“Got any t’spare?”

The deep, timbre voice jolted you from your peace and quiet. Footsteps crunched on the snow toward you, a tall older man dissolving from the shadows. The gray streaks in his hair shimmered under the twinkling lights that hung over the bar's roof, and you tracked his long, languid steps as they neared your shivering body. As he got closer, you could finally make out the unkempt beard growing on his jaw and neck. It was short and manageable but still messy as if he had no care about his appearance. What struck you silent, though, were his darkened brown eyes. The creases around them softened him in places, but there was a pain that lingered behind his irises that paralyzed you.

Biting your half-smoked cigarette between your teeth, you reached between your jeans and silken underwear to retrieve the hidden carton. Cigarettes were hard to come by in Jackson, and you knew how to keep your share of them a secret. But something about this man made the idea of lying seem dangerous, so you complied.

“Here,” you muttered, inhaling another drag.

He took the cigarette carefully, his thick fingers barely brushing over yours. Despite the snowfall above you, his hands were warm against your skin. You shuddered as you pulled away to dig your lighter from your back pocket.

You held the flickering flame to the butt of his cigarette, igniting the tobacco until a plume of smoke billowed into the air.

“I ain’t seen you ‘round Jackson ‘fore,” he said, his Southern accent thick and distorted from an inhale of smoke.

You dipped your head, fitting your fingers around the cigarette as you pulled it from your lips.

“Just got here this weekend,” you huffed.

“Who y’come here with?” He asked.

“Do you tend to go nosing around someone’s business before introducing yourself?” You smirked.

“Shit,” he muttered, extending a free hand. “Joel.”

You gave him your name as you wrapped your hand around his. Joel’s fingers squeezed your hand softly before he abandoned your grip and returned to his cigarette.

“I came by myself,” you finally answered.

He nodded slowly, and you both silently inhaled another pull, the smell of smoke swirling around you. You had gotten used to the tinged smell that followed a drag, the bittersweet ambiance that tended to linger on your clothes and hair. You let your eyes wander over Joel as he squinted up into the sky, the pout of his lips wrapped around the cigarette filter.

“S’not an easy trip gettin’ here,” he commented. “You’re a lucky lil’ thing.”

His eyes fell to yours as he said the final two words and something about the drop in his voice made you squirm. The tug of his lips told you he knew it, too. You hollowed your cheeks as you sucked in a lung full of smoke, the cherry burning bright as it lit up Joel’s shadowed face.

“Lucky, huh?” You quipped. “I don’t think it’s luck.”

“Whadaya think it is then?” He asked, tilting his head.

You pinched the cig between your fingers, studying the thin filter as it dwindled closer to the butt. You were already craving another; the stress of traveling had really gotten to you, but you knew you’d need to ration your contraband if you planned on staying in Jackson for a while. You’d already sacrificed one to Joel, which was stupid, but you enjoyed the company of someone who needed it as badly as you did.

“I think I fought tooth and nail to get here. I learned to survive out there alone, and I did it all without luck.”

“Y’saw some scary shit out there,” he nodded, reading between the lines. “I know it ain’t easy. Did the same thing myself ‘few months ago.”

“You’re here alone, too?” You wondered.

“Came here alone, but I got family here,” he shrugged. “My brother, Tommy, he’s the one runnin’ the town.”

Your eyes widened, taking in the area around you. All the houses, the people walking by, the little bar nestled behind you… it was all because of his brother.

“Well, when you see him next, you better tell him thank you for me. I’m really grateful to have somewhere to stay.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he grinned.

A comfortable silence settled over you, and you both alternated between puffs of smoke. Joel glanced at you ever so often, his dark eyes staring intently at your mouth each time. After a while, your cigarette burned less, and you tossed it beneath your feet to extinguish it, the heat of it melting a hole into the snow.

“Y’know what tastes good with a cigarette?” Joel asked.

“What?”

He dropped the butt of his cigarette to the ground, following your lead and squashing it into the snow.

“Whiskey,” he said matter of fact. “Got some up at my place if y’wanna come over.”

“I won’t say no to that,” you smiled. “You owe me for the cig anyway.”

Joel’s home was nestled far into the woods at the end of town, its cozy space welcoming and warm. The steps up to the front door were covered in snow, and the front porch was adorned with a wooden rocking chair and table. He opened the door and ushered you inside, the bite of the night chill finally relenting once the door shut.

“Lemme take this,” Joel offered, his hands guiding your winter jacket off and hanging it on a hook by the door.

You were left standing in just a thermal and jeans, your body shivering as the cocoon of warmth disappeared. He shrugged off his heavy jacket, placing it beside yours. His green flannel stretched against the muscles of his body, and you ogled at him. You would have never guessed that he looked like this under the cover of his jacket.

“It ain’t polite to stare,” he joked.

You blinked at him, heat crawling up your neck and coloring your face red.

“Well, you’re not hard on the eyes,” you tossed back, giving him a playful grin.

Now he was blushing, the soft pink tint blooming under the scruff on his cheeks. With a subtle tilt of his head, Joel guided you to his kitchen, and you watched as he searched for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. It was hard not to fixate on his thick fingers as they dwarfed his mug, nor was it easy to avoid watching the muscles in his neck flex as he swallowed a long sip of the liquor.

“So, do you make a habit of inviting strangers to your home?” You asked, sipping the whiskey slowly.

“Only the pretty ones with tobacco,” he smirked.

The burn of the liquor down your throat coursed down your chest, warmth spreading into your limbs. Joel’s heavy stare was enough to make warmth bloom in other areas, too, the friction in your jeans becoming a problem that needed fixing. You had spent months all alone on the road trying to make it here, never once giving in to your desperate needs. You barely had the energy to fantasize about a man touching you, and now you were feet away from an opportunity to fulfill your needs.

“Ah, so you’re only interested in what I have to offer.”

You were gunning for a reaction, hoping he’d take the bait. Joel was a stranger; maybe that sentiment was part of the attraction. No strings, no emotions…just someone to fuck and blow off some steam with.

Joel finished the rest of his drink before stalking toward you, his fingers dancing up your arm. You squirmed at his touch, stepping into his space and letting your chest brush against his. His fingers squeezed your chin, tipping your head back so that you met your eyes.

“Y’got other things to offer?” He smirked.

“Depends on what you want.”

You grinned at him playfully, grinding your hips against the erection tenting in his pants. Joel exhaled a strangled groan, his fingers tightening around your jaw before traveling down your throat. You gave him a defiant look, arching your neck to allow his large hand to cover the entirety of your neck.

“Think I wanna see ya’ on your knees, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Wanna see those pretty eyes full of tears when y’try to take my cock down this pretty lil’ throat.”

You moaned helplessly, squeezing your thighs together to try and relieve the pressure building inside your core. Joel used his hand around your neck to guide you to your knees, your eyes still obediently staring up at him.

“God damn, you’re even more beautiful like that,” Joel exhaled.

He worked at his belt, letting go of your throat so that he could use both hands to free his cock. And the moment your eyes caught sight of his thick cock, you understood why he needed both hands. You wet your lips involuntarily, the aspect of trying to fit the girth of him in your mouth igniting a newfound excitement inside you.

“Stick out your tongue,” he ordered.

You quickly obliged, your jaw dropping open. You could hardly contain the grin tugging at the corners of your open mouth, arousal buzzing through your veins. Joel shoved his pants halfway down his thighs and bent over to meet you at eye level. With a brief grin of mischief, he spit into your open mouth, humming in satisfaction as he eyed the saliva coating your tongue.

“Mhmm,” he smiled. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel pumped his cock a few times before sliding it over your tongue, the stretch of your mouth around it forcing your jaw sore. You hollowed your cheeks around him, the salty taste of his precum dripping down your throat as you took him deeper. You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock as it glided further into your mouth, your eyes twinkling as you watched Joel’s head tip back in ecstasy.

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart.”

You reached a hand up to caress his balls, stroking them in tandem with each bob of your head. Joel nearly buckled over at your soft touch, his hips snapping forward until your nose collided with the wiry hair surrounding his cock. You sputtered violently around him, saliva dripping down your chin while tears sprung from your eyes.

“There we go,” he grunted. “Lookin’ so pretty chokin’ on my cock. Y’like that?”

He shoved down your throat again, suffocating you with his musky scent and salty taste. You nodded vigorously, your mouth still full of him. Snaking a hand down your pants, you tried to squeeze your fingers between the fabric of your underwear, desperately seeking relief from the ache throbbing harder inside your core.

Joel tutted at you, ripping his cock from your mouth. You wailed in protest, a string of saliva still webbing from the tip to your mouth. A strong hand gripped your hair, and you stared up at him with swollen lips and lust-blown eyes.

“Y’gonna offer me a taste of that sweet lil’ pussy now?” Joel asked, quirking a grin.

“Take what you want,” you panted, grinning at him.

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. He hauled you up and walked you toward the empty dining table, slamming your chest down into it hard enough to make you gasp for air. With your nails digging into the wood, Joel worked at ripping your jeans and underwear down your legs, the half-empty carton of cigarettes falling to the ground.

“That’s a cute hidin’ spot,” Joel chuckled.

“I like to keep them safe from strangers.”

“Ain’t done a good job of that tonight.”

Joel’s hand came down with a resounding thwack against your ass, a cry erupting from your lips. The sting of his palm on your skin radiated down your legs, the slick pooling further down your thighs. Jesus Christ, if he didn’t fuck you soon, you might go crazy.

“God, damn, sweetheart,” Joel exhaled, swiping a finger over your entrance. You jerked at his touch, chasing the pleasure coursing through your body. “Just drippin’ for me, ain’t she? Y’need my cock stretchin’ this tight pussy out?”

“Fuck,” you groaned. “Please, Joel.”

“Got you beggin’ for it already,” Joel laughed. “I think I like you.”

You ached for his cock, but you felt him shift behind you and gasped as his tongue licked a thick stripe up your center. You squirmed as his beard tickled your shivering skin, and your cunt fluttered around his tongue, each flick against your aching clit sending a ripple of tremors down your limbs. The bridge of his nose brushed through the crease between your entrance and tight ring of muscles, and you instinctively flinched away.

“Y’ever had someone fuck you here?” Joel muttered.

You wagged your head in protest, and he hummed in approval before his tongue traced around the tight ring. The sensation was so foreign to you, but his mouth on you felt too good to oppose. Back and forth, his tongue lapped up your juices and returned upwards, a consistent rhythm that had you gasping for more.

“Might have to stretch out this virgin hole if y’let me,” Joel mumbled, his fingers prodding up your inner thighs.

“Maybe,” you exhaled shakily.

Joel took your lack of words as an invitation to start annihilating you with his mouth, his lips suctioning over your clit, his tongue pulsating over your sensitive bud. It didn’t take much longer until your orgasm was cresting to the surface, a wail escaping your mouth as your body seized.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Joel groaned. “Think this sweet lil’ pussy’s ready for me now?”

You were too blissed out to formulate words correctly, so you only responded with a desperate whine and a slight shimmy of your ass. Joel straightened behind you, lining up with your leaking entrance. The thick head of his cock brushed against your wet folds, pushing in slowly, and you held back a whimper as your body adjusted to the stretch of him bottoming out inside you.

“Shit,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Just suckin’ me right in, ain’t you?”

“Feels so fucking good, Joel,” you moaned.

He drew back his hips, his cock nearly slipping out of you before he drove right back in. The table beneath you creaked, and your core fluttered around the girth of his cock, splitting you open. Joel’s hands groped at the plush skin of your ass, spreading you open for his pleasure. Any other man and you’d be embarrassed by how exposed you were, but for some reason… Joel was driving you insane.

“Takin’ my cock so well, sweetheart,” Joel praised.

You keened at his words, each thrust of his cock blinding your vision. Calloused fingers dug into your hips, and the smoky fragrance of his skin evaded your senses as he dipped over your spine, drawing his mouth close to your ear.

“Wish y’could see the way your pussy wraps around my cock,” Joel teased. “Gonna wreck you ‘til you’re a fucked out mess, sweetheart.”

“Use me,” you panted.

The pent-up desperation from months spent alone was clawing out of your throat; the harder he fucked you, the more you craved it. Joel’s hand wound around your hair, tightening it around his fist until he could pull your neck back. That’s when he really started ramping up the speed. His body slammed against yours, thrust after thrust, turning you into a blubbering mess of jumbled words.

“Desperate.” Thrust. “Lil.” Thrust. “Thing.” Thrust.

“Wanna—wanna cum for you, Joel,” you gasped.

Pain radiated up your neck the tighter he gripped your hair, but you couldn’t give a damn as the orgasm surged through your core. Joel kicked your legs out wider, the angle of his cock spearing into you the deeper he pushed.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Joel urged. “Lemme feel this pussy squeeze my cock.”

Hypnotized by his words, your body reacted on cue, a white-hot explosion detonating inside your core. You screamed out his name, your cunt turning into a vice around his cock. Joel choked on his breath, his movements choppy and off-beat as he pounded through your climax. The wet sound of your cunt around his cock was loud enough to echo through the empty house, and Joel exhaled in satisfaction as he reached down to pull one of your legs onto the edge of the table.

The new position sparked another fury of warmth inside your veins, his rough hand squeezing the underside of your kneecap as he broke you open wider.

“Gonna fill this tight lil’ hole with my cum,” Joel rasped. “Y’want that, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you pleaded.

Wedging your leg higher onto the table, Joel snapped his hips in repetition, carnal groans falling off his lips each time he sunk deeper. You tossed a glance over your shoulder, seeing his face scrunched up in concentration; his eyes were so fixated on his cock slipping in and out of your drenched hole that he didn’t realize you were watching. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and you could feel the sudden surge of tension paralyzing his body. Joel ground out your name as he emptied himself into you, white-hot ropes of release painting your insides.

“Jesus,” you exhaled, watching his features soften as his eyes fluttered shut.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, connecting with yours. A grin teased one corner of his mouth, beads of sweat coating the thick mustache covering his upper lip. Gingerly lowering your leg to the floor, Joel bent over your body, brushing a hand under your chin to guide your lips to his. He coaxed your mouth open, the sweet taste of whiskey and cigarettes still dancing on his tongue. You nipped at his plush bottom lip, drawing it between your teeth until he groaned.

“Want another smoke?” You asked, pushing your nose against his.

“Just gotta do somethin’ first,” he whispered.

Joel slipped out of you, the immediate trickle of liquid gushing down your thighs at his absence. He crouched behind you, pressing gentle kisses into the supple flesh of your thighs as he traveled higher. Two thick fingers plunged inside your gaping entrance, the stretch not nearly as shocking as it was with his cock. You chewed your lip to hold back another wanton moan, his fingers curling against the spongy spot inside your core.

“I need you to relax for me, okay, sweetheart?” Joel insisted. “Y’trust me?”

“I barely even know you,” you laughed. But you obliged, regardless, nodding your head eagerly.

Joel’s fingers worked their way out of you, trailing higher up the seam of your entrance until they prodded at your virgin hole. You buck your hips at his feather-like touch, the pads of his fingers pushing against the tight muscle gently.

“Relax,” he crooned.

You inhale sharply, letting your body sag onto the table. The initial stretch of his finger was uncomfortable, your body tensing as Joel worked you open. You whimpered quietly, shifting your body slightly as he slid another finger in alongside the first, your body sucking him in knuckle-deep.

“Attagirl,” Joel murmured. “Got both your holes stretched and filled now. Feels good, don’t it?”

You gave him a pathetic nod, your body on the cusp of overstimulation. Joel gently pulled his fingers from you, and you looked back to see him draw them between his lips, sucking them clean. Those dark brown eyes flicked up to meet your watchful gaze, a dangerous smile splitting across his face.

Oh, hell.

You and Joel spent the rest of the night on his porch, watching the snow blanket the ground between dancing puffs of smoke. There was minimal chatter after he cleaned you up, your clothes pieced back together, and the cigarette carton stashed away in its usual spot under your jeans. Ever so often, you’d eye Joel between drags, watching his jaw flex as he hollowed his cheeks. Under the pale light of the moon and flickering bulb over his porch, you made out the streaks of grey in his hair, familiarizing yourself with each curl that stuck to his sweat-dampened skin.

“You’re starin’ again,” he stated, his eyes locked on the snow swirling in the air.

You blushed, ashing the butt of the cig over the porch rails. The heat of his gaze on you was impossible to ignore, so you cooled yourself and turned to him with a shy grin.

“Guess there’s just something about you,” you muttered.

Joel’s brown eyes twinkled, and he smiled right back.

“You just sayin’ that ‘cause y’got my cum leakin’ out of you, sweetheart?” He teased.

“Christ,” you exhaled, rolling your eyes. “That’s definitely not why.”

“Y’gonna tell me then?” He pressed his shoulder into yours.

You returned the playful shove, letting your arm brush against his. Flicking the end of your cigarette into the yard, you straightened your body.

“You owe me a pack of Reds,” you laughed. “Then, maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Just tell me when y’wanna come and get ‘em,” Joel smirked.

He drew you in for a soft kiss before urging you to head home, both of you reluctant to leave the porch. As you walked through the gate in his fence, you glanced back one last time to capture his attention with a small wave of your hand. Hidden in the shadows, you saw Joel’s hand lift to his mouth, blowing you a kiss that drifted past the lingering haze of smoke and falling snow.

#jackson joel #jackson joel x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfic #post outbreak joel #smut smut smut

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aaizawashouta · 1 day

Text

one of those nights again

pairing: midoriya izuku x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: when the past haunts you, your future helps you forget

warnings: angst, brief mention of torture, reader has a quirk, smoking, smut ( minors, dni) oral (f receiving), p in v, cream pie

a/n: i did not edit this, so forgive me. might follow up on this with a part 2. who knows

When something is being pulled from you, taken against your will, it hurts. It’s unnatural and unnecessary. Your screams echo off the concrete walls, reminding you that there’s no one coming to save you. Not this time. No one has for the last eight months. You only know this because they taunt you by keeping count. But you try, and you keep on trying. Black tar rolls from the corner of your eyes, black inky veins run up your arms. The signs of an overused quirk. You’re on the verge of passing out. Your body shakes where it’s held down on a metal exam table, fitting for a morgue. This is where you’ll die, and nobody will know.

Just one more time, you try, you plead. You’re not sure if it’s a delusion, a false hope, but you hear it; something. It’s big, and it’s loud, and it’s bullying its way into the building. You never did figure out if it was relief or exhaustion that pulled you under when you saw his face.

His name is on the tip of your tongue. It echoes through you, a phantom pain that will always bring tears to your eyes. Sitting up in a cold sweat, strands of hair stick to your face. It hurts to breathe, like you’re inhaling water. It’s late, you didn’t have to look at the clock to know that. This happens so often your body just knows. Sleep would not be coming back anytime soon. Sighing, you sit up and shove your feet in your slippers. Feeling clammy and slightly nauseous, you hated that this was your new normal. That’s the life of a pro-hero, or at least that’s what they told you anyway. You took what was handed to you – you fought to protect, to survive.

Moving sluggishly even though your mind was wide awake, you slid open the glass door and stepped out into the brisk night air. Faint sounds from the busy streets below made their way to you. One of the reasons you loved the city. There is no silence. It’s never quite quiet enough for you to feel alone. There’s always someone out there. Taking a deep breath, you relax at the familiar cold nip in your lungs. This has always been your favorite time of year. When winter slowly turns into spring. It’s something small that has always brought you peace.

Fingers find the pack of cigarettes left on the patio table, most likely Sero’s. Eyes up to the beautiful night sky, cigarette in one hand and lighter in the other. The sky was dark and decorated with faint, twinkling lights. You're doing your best to ground yourself. With a quick flick of your thumb, the cigarette tips glows orange in the night, dangling loosely from your fingertips. Bringing it up to your lips you inhale and finally feel yourself start to relax. Dropping your head back you watch the smoke slither out between thinly parted lips.

This is only a temporary fix. You're hopeful the shaking in your hands stills. The pounding in your chest slows from a full gallop to a steady rhythm. You hated nights like these. You couldn't sleep, thoughts and distant memories danced behind your eyelids every time you tried to rest. It was going on night four, you weren't sure how much longer you could go without cracking. Chuckling, a sour note to the otherwise pleasant sound. How long could you go without cracking? You were sure you already were. It was just a matter of when the whole dam would break. Especially after the dream you had. Right, yeah. Dream. A nightmare. A memory. Your grip tightens on the railing, eyes cast up to the sky. You’d give anything not to spiral.

A two-toned whistle catches your attention. Out of the dark he appears, as if he heard you calling out for him. Leaning over the rail you look down, breath catching in your throat at the sight of him. Midoriya stands in the alleyway, watching you with a knowing grin. Trailing your eyes over him you note that he’s still in his gear, more than likely just got off patrol. He never made it home, his first stop is you, always you. Chapped lips pull into a tired smile. You pull one last drag from the cigarette before letting it drop to the ground below. Midoriya finally moves, stepping forward to stomp out the bud.

“I thought you were quitting?” He questions before jumping up and landing on your patio.

His bright eyes lit by the dim moonlight. Light was something you always noticed. It’s one of the reasons you took to him so quickly. Izuku Midoriya, you noticed, didn't have darkness in him. Not the way you do. Your eyes fall to your hands, fingers flexing—the dark, inky color spreading from your fingertips. Your hands grip into a tight fist.

“When did I say that?”

“Two nights ago.”

Dammit. You forgot about that. You’d been talking, finishing up paperwork before leaving the agency. He’d asked if there was anything you’d change about yourself, what would it be. Rolling your eyes, looking at him as if he had just asked the stupidest question – which he had – you decided to say something simple.

I’d quit smoking. Heard it’s bad for your lungs.

You snort, shaking your head a little. It’d take a lot more than a damn cigarette to take you down.

Midoriya rocks on his heels in front of you, green eyes taking you in before a smirk appears.

“Nice shirt.”

“Thank you.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Does it?” You ask with a raised brow.

“It does,” he chuckles, taking a few steps closer. “But it’d look better on my bedroom floor.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Why? Because that’s where I found it?”

Choosing to ignore the look he gives you, you move to wrap yourself around him. Why smoke when you have pro hero Deku? He’s so much better for your health and gives you the same effect. Your fingers dig into the material of his suit, securing yourself to him. More than capable of taking care of yourself, but no one makes you feel as safe as Izuku Midoriya.

“You really do look comfy. When’d you snag that one?”

Shrugging, peeking up at him when he kisses the top of your head. Midoriya keeps a tight grip on you as he leads you inside. A worn sigh leaving him when he falls into his spot on the couch. It’s been a long day, and has no signs of ending soon if he plans on doing this with you tonight. You see as the hero melts away from him. The pride in his shoulders, the courage in his spine. Even now, you still can pinpoint the little pieces of All Might that he carries.

It hasn’t been that way for you in almost a year now. Darkness was all you knew. From the time you were seven, darkness followed you around hanging off your shoulder. A shadow that only you could see. Others could see it if you wanted them to. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that someone would want your shadow—your darkness, a plague you could barely control. But that was good that you couldn’t control it, couldn’t control yourself. Because it meant that others could.

Lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him watching you too. There’s something on his mind, something he wants to say. Scarred fingertips trail up and down your arm. A soothing gesture, but not one you can tell is for you or for him.

“What is it?”

You could laugh from how relieved and slightly panicked he looks.

“Maybe you can talk to Kacchan–”

“Izuku,”

Falling back into the couch your gaze lands at your feet. It’s no surprise it's come to this. He’s your best friend, of course he knows you're struggling. That you’ve been struggling for a while now. He’s tried to let you figure it out on your own. Callused fingers grab your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his. Midoriya is no longer on the couch beside you, but kneeling on the floor, warm body pressed up against your knees.

“It’s not the same thing. Your experiences are drastically different. But baby, you are crumbling, falling apart at the seams and I cannot sit here and just watch. It’s killing me, fuck, it’s killing you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to remember. If I could close my eyes and sleep without ever going back there…it’d be a miracle. I don’t want to relive it, Izuku, I want to forget.”

He nods slowly, taking you in. He never let go of your face, his grasp slowly getting tighter. Grabbing his wrist, your fingers dig into skin. He’s showing you he’s not afraid, but you are.

“I can help you forget.”

“Izuku,”

His head tilts. “Lets not pretend this isn't bound to happen.” You squeak when he lifts you up and tosses you over his shoulder. “You know I love you. Now let me help you.”

He takes a few steps before you smack him on the ass. “You’re dirty! You are not getting in your bed like this.”

“I can fuck you in the shower.”

You scoff at his remark. It still surprises you, what you pull out of him. The casualness in the way he bites back. The cocksure and smartass attitude he doesn’t really show for anyone else. It makes your pulse race and your toes curl. He doesn’t put you down until the shower is on and steaming up the bathroom. Your grip is tight on his arms when he finally sets you on your feet. The blood rushing from your head makes you slightly lightheaded.

Midoriya’s hands are warm on your cheeks, fingers tracing over your features. His grip tightening when your lips part, tongue sneaking out to taste his skin. His kiss is urgent, needy, searching, and it sends a shock of warmth through your body, straight down your spine to the heat slowly building between your thighs. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he leads you back until you’re flush against the wall next to the shower. You don't even realize your body is shivering until his hands find the bare skin on your rib cage, pulling his shirt up off your body.

He breaks away from the kiss long enough to search your face before he tugs open the shower curtain, and your stomach flutters as he reaches for the zip of his uniform.

"Wait," you say quickly.

His eyes dart up to yours, and he freezes.

"I want to do this part," you admit, watching as your shaking fingers trace over his own until he drops his hands. You feel his eyes on you as you slowly trail his zipper down, and when you look back up at him, his eyes are darker.

You tug his pants down until they fall to his ankles, where he steps out of them, leaving him in his black boxer briefs, which strain against the outline in the front. He moves quickly, and the shocked laugh that slips through your lips echoes through the bathroom as he reaches down and lifts you by the thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist with a smile as he steps into the shower, closing the curtain behind you.

The water is a decadent warmth against your skin, but all you can focus on is how his lips are connected to the spot right under your ear that sends electric shocks through your body. your head rolls back the second his teeth graze your nipple, and your arms tighten around his shoulders as you bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet. You’re hypersensitive to his every movement, and when he wraps his lips around your nipple and flicks his tongue in a slow, teasing rhythm, your hips rock involuntarily, grinding against him as a desperate gasp falls from your lips.

Midoriya takes his time exploring your chest with his mouth, nipping, sucking, and when he knots his hands in your hair, he tugs gently to pull your head back as he trails his lips up your neck to the sensitive spot just below your ear. When he bites down and sucks harder than before, your eyes widen and then flutter closed in pure ecstasy.

His grip tightens on your thighs as he grinds against you, and when he adds pressure to the suction on your neck, the pressure building in your stomach flares white-hot. Every gasp turns into a moan. He bites down onto your neck roughly one final time before dragging his tongue against your feverish skin and pulling back. When his eyes find the spot his lips were just connected to, a flash of satisfaction spikes in the emerald there before they meet yours, considering you with a hazy stare.

He steps back from the wall, placing you back onto your feet, and when Midoriya kneels in front of you, the air in your lungs freezes as his thumbs wrap around your underwear. His gaze flicks back up, and you nod instantly, watching as he pulls them down your legs.

He positions your leg over his shoulder, and you try to steady your breathing as you lean your head against the wall. He's slow and teasing as he bites and licks the skin on your inner thigh, wrapping his arms around your thighs to steady your weakening legs.

A breathy, impatient moan slips through your lips when he licks the inside of your thigh in one long, torturous motion. The shocks it sends directly to the swollen bud between your legs is enough to make you dig your fingers in his curls and bring him where you want him most. He chuckles at your impatience, and the sound makes your stomach tighten as you bite down on the inside of your cheek, wanting nothing more than for him to connect his lips to you.

He tightens his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer and your vision goes black when his tongue drags across you. Your breathing turns shallow as you focus on his tongue against your clit, and when he adds more pressure, your hips grind against him desperately.

You’re on the edge, reveling in the intense flood of pleasure, and when he slips a finger into you and hits the electrifying sweet spot deep inside, every muscle in your body tightens at once before releasing in a mind-numbing rush of sensation. The first tidal wave of sweet bliss racks through your body, and you can't seem to quiet the loud, breathy moans that echo through the bathroom. You’ve never been more thankful for the fact that you live alone. Of course, no one has ever made you this loud before. His rough tongue softens into gentle strokes as the aftershocks pulse through you, and the soft caresses slowly bring you down.

When you look down at him, his lips are glossy, and he grins up at you as his tongue slides across his bottom lip. The sight alone nearly makes your legs give out, and when he stands, he reaches behind you to turn off the water as he reconnects your lips. His mouth doesn't leave yours as he pulls open the curtain and hooks his arms under your legs again, and you’re barely aware of anything other than the fact that his tongue is caressing yours in the most delicious way as he carries you out of the bathroom.

When Midoriya leans over, and your back connects with the soft cotton of his sheets, you suck in a much needed breath. He watches as he hovers, eyes dark and wet curls dripping water down his neck to his shoulders and down his chest. The sight alone is enough to make your hips rock up to him, and he reaches down to cup your cheek in his hand as he connects your lips again.

He kisses you long enough for you to lose your breath before finally pulling away and standing up from the bed. When he opens the drawer on his nightstand, the heat pulsing between your legs flares as you watch him slip his drenched boxers down his legs. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you stare. You’re not sure how it’s going to fit, but you know damn well that you’re going to make it. Leaning back into the comforter when he looks back at you, you grab his face and bring his lips to yours, desperate for the feel of his tongue on yours again. He gives you exactly what you want, and a shiver races down your spine as he leans on his elbow, freeing his hand to explore your body again.

You’re nervous, excited, and impatient, and you can tell by the slow pace of his fingers on your skin that he's taking this slower than he usually would. As if he can tell that your heart is nearly racing out of your chest.

Rough fingers start on your cheek and trail down your neck, tracing your collarbones, before dipping around your breast where the pad of his thumb skims over the smooth skin to your ribs. The feel of his calloused hands makes your hips rock against him, and his erection presses heavily against your stomach as he continues his slow descent. His lips never leave yours, and he brushes his tongue against yours slowly, teasingly as he grabs onto your hip tightly. A throaty groan sounds in the back of his throat, and when his fingers finally delve lower to find the pulsing heat between your legs, you push up into his hand, desperate for relief. His thumb grazes over your clit, brushing torturously slow circles that send a flood of pleasure through your veins as he moves his hips, lining you up perfectly.

He's pushed up against you softly but pauses, like he knows that you might need a minute to catch up, his lips leave yours and trail down your neck to your shoulders, peppering soft kisses as he goes. When he pulls back to look at you, you reach up and brush his curls out of his eyes, and he captures your hand with his own, bringing your fingers to his lips to press a soft kiss onto the tip of each one. When his teeth graze roughly across your palm, a shocked gasp slips from between your lips, and the white-hot heat pulsing between your legs flares.

"Izuku, don’t tease." You’re practically panting, and the sound pulls a smug smile onto his lips, enough to gently dent the dimple in his cheek.

When he brings his lips down to yours again, they're searing and searching and claiming, and the gasp that slips from your lips is lost between you when his hands grip your hips tightly, and he pushes into you. It's the most intoxicating sensation, and your body ignites in a flood of heat when he pulls out and thrusts again, hard enough to elicit a shocked gasp as you try to catch your breath.

When he grabs you harder, you can barely focus on anything other than the overwhelming sensation of him. He's everywhere, all around you, inside of you, gripping your hips, breathing the most intoxicating groans into your ear, brushing soft kisses across your throat, sending a shiver down your spine at the feel of his stubble grazing your neck.

The sounds slipping from your lips aren't even your own anymore as the rhythmic rocking of your bodies pulls you somewhere else entirely. You’ve never felt anything like this before. It's as if every experience you’ve ever had leading up to this point has been erased. Every touch, every clumsy kiss, every single moment shared in dark rooms with anyone else—it's all gone because it doesn't even fall into the same stratosphere as this.

"You feel—fuck, baby girl, you’re fucking amazing."

You thread your fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to press your lips to his. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you taste the spearmint on his breath mixed with the flavor of the last cigarette on your breath from earlier. It coats your tongue until it's all you can think about, and when he groans into the kiss, the now-familiar pressure between your thighs builds dangerously, tightening every muscle in your body until your back is arched and you're clinging to him desperately. Nails leaving little crescent moons in his back.

His tongue brushes yours softly, tenderly, and it's an intoxicating contrast to the rough thrust of his hips. He lifts your leg higher, pulling them away from his waist, and when he hits the spot deep inside of you, your moan catches in your throat as everything outside of the man you’re clinging to falls away and your veins flood with the kind of mind-numbing pleasure that you’ve only known right here with him.

His fingers dig into your thighs as the orgasm rocks through you. His movements become quicker and more desperate, you know he's on the edge, too. He gives one final thrust of his hips, and when his breathy groan echoes between you, you reach up and run your fingers through his still-damp curls, grazing your lips across the feverish skin on his neck.

He sinks onto you, hands unclenching from his hold on you, and you know without a doubt there will be bruises. Holding his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing you, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He finally pulls back after a minute, and the sated warmth in his eyes is possibly the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Grinning down at you, he sweeps a wayward strand of hair away from your face before brushing his thumb across your cheek, giving you a sweet, chaste kiss.

It’s silent as your breathing evens out. You’re not freaking out, which is a good sign. There’s no doubt that it all has to do with Izuku. You wouldn’t have made it very far with anyone else. Hell, he’s the only one you let touch you after you were rescued. No wonder he thinks there’s something wrong with you. It doesn’t matter that he’s right.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

“We can’t do this every time. It’s not healthy.”

Midoriya snorts, pulling you into him as he lays on his back to stare at the ceiling. “No, we can’t, but it is fun.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “I’ll go see Kat on Monday.”

“That’ll make him happy. I’m not the only one who’s been worried about you.”

Being captured and tortured hasn’t messed with the way you do your job. But it's a known fact that you aren’t the same anymore. They held you for almost a year, trying to extract your quirk from you. They wanted to bottle it up and sell it to anyone that would pay for it. You can’t even remember how many times you begged for death to take you.

“I’m not – I’m not. It’s – I’m –”

“Shh. Easy, babe, I know. It’s alright. One step at a time. THis is the biggest one you can take.”

There is no judgment, no pity. Just love, adoration and a warmth that is all Izuku. You’re not sure you’ve done anything good enough in your life to deserve him, but he wants you anyway. You relax, wrapping yourself around him, clinging to his heat. Your eyes flutter as he trails his fingers lazily up and down your arm. He knows he can’t fix you, but he’ll do anything to help.

#midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x you #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x you #izuku midoriya one shot #izuku midoriya smut #mha fan fiction

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frantic-fiction · 7 hours

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The Goodest Boy

This is something I wrote to express my grief. It involves the death of Scratch as it pertains to the coming to terms of the fact my own dog is dying.

The changes start slowly. It's like a tickle from a leaking dam. A cataract. A lousy hip and joint pain. Scratch would play it off, but you could see how it affected him. Then, you notice he takes more naps and is slower fetching his ball. But he was just tired. Astarion hesitantly mentioned that Scratch was getting older, and you harshly told him to drop it.

Scratch was fine.

Scratch told you himself after you downed an animal-speaking potion and took him for a walk. Neither of you acknowledged when his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed into the dirt. You both corrected him and continued walking.

Scratch is fine.

He might be an older dog, but that doesn't mean he's at the end of his life. He's got plenty of time. You and Scratch take things a little slower. You play less fetch and spend more time lying on the grass, going on shorter walks, often with you carrying Scratch back home.

But that's okay because Scratch is fine.

Scratch stops playing flesh, stops going on walks, stops eating. You don't know what to do. You can't lose him, Scratch, who has been with you during your darkest times. Who has loved you unconditionally? What would you do without him?

"Tav," Astarion says softly, his words thick with hesitation as if he is afraid you'll curse him.

He sits softly next to you on the rug. You stare blankly into the fire. Scratch lays his head in your lap, his eyes closed in rest, chest rising and falling in shallow, unsteady breaths. You stroke up and down his soft fur, occasionally scraping your nails behind Scratch's ears.

You hum in response, having no energy to form words.

Scratch isn't okay.

"I am so sorry," Astarion starts, his voice cracking, and he clears his throat. "But Scratch is in pain."

You choke on a sob, the waterfall of tears you were delicately holding back bursting out, sobbing as quietly as you can manage not to disturb Scratch's rest. Astarion rubs your back in soothing circles, whispering comforting words.

"Star," you finally whisper, your voice barely audible above the crackling fire.

"I know, my love," he murmurs, kissing your shoulder and hugging you from behind.

You lean into his embrace. "I'm not ready. I love him too much."

"I'm not sure anyone would be ready regarding this." Astarion strokes his hands down your arm. "But Scratch shouldn't have to be in pain."

"Friend," Scratch speaks up.

Astarion and you look down at the exhausted dog. Scratch raises his head. He yawns, wagging his tail a few times, but that drains him of all his energy. He lets out a groan of pain and settles back down.

"Hey bud," you say softly, rubbing his head and trying to mask the hoarseness of your voice. "Sorry, I woke you."

"Friend, it's about time. I'm dying," Scratch confesses, his words piercing your heart. "I've lived a good life thanks to you. I don't want to spend my last few days in pain."

"Scratch." You cry, the pain too much as you collapse into the dog in your lap. "I don't know what I'll do without you."

"You live," Scratch says, licking your face. "You'll live for the both of us."

"Scratch,"

"I don't want to be in pain, don't let me be in pain."

You bury your face in his fur, your tears soaking into his coat. "Okay, okay," you whisper.

"Thank you," Scratch sighs. "Friend, I would like to spend one more night with you if that's alright."

"Gods Scratch, yes, please." You almost beg, gently cupping his face.

"If it's alright with mister, could I sleep in the bed? The floor isn't as comfortable as it used to be." Scratch asks, looking over at Astarion with pleading eyes.

Astarion laughs, though it sounds more like a sob, as he tries to hide his own tears. "Yes, let's get you settled." Astarion scoops the dog in his arms before carrying Scratch to your room.

You spend the rest of the night holding Scratch. Petting his fur and kissing his nose, whispering how much you love him. You don't think about what comes next. You don't think about life without him. You continue to stoke fur and pretend tomorrow won't come.

Scratch isn't okay.

You're not okay.

I'm taking my dog Toby in to be euthanized this week. He's been with me for 15 years of my 23-year existence. I'm not really sure why I wrote this, since I'm currently sobbing while typing this and I don't think this was a good idea. Maybe it was cathartic or something, I don't know I'm rambling. Anyway I'm sorry.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #reader insert #I don't want my dog to die #I love my dog #why #why did I do this to myself #I'm sorry #should i delete

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takes1 · 16 hours

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bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers p.2

warnings. m!masturbation at the end. midterms mentioned. minors DNI content. misinterpretation of emotions. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush. enemies to lovers. or maybe enemies with benefits, i haven't decided yet. manager!reader. tsukki being so incredibly horny. tsukki not understanding facial expressions. sexual frustration. male masturbation + implied previous. kiyoko being a friend. yachi being a friend. 1.7k words notes. 3 more parts planned! ask to be added to the taglist if you don't want to miss one! links. PART ONE HERE. masterlist for mha. my ao3.

Despite your iced latte being mostly just water by now, you still sucked it down in desperation to get every ounce of caffeine you could. Midterms were just around the corner and one of your most difficult classes involved writing a 10-page scientific paper.

You had the whole semester to do it, so the dread you felt now was the amalgamation of months' worth of opportunity that you could've and should've used to work on it.

Thankfully, you didn't have to churn the majority of this thing out alone.

"What the hell does ameliorate mean." Kiyoko asked, though her soft frustration was starting to sound more like a statement now.

Yachi took every opportunity she could to stop doing her work, including this one. For her, there was less pressure to do perfectly on her finals since she had another two years to get those top marks.

She scanned her laptop screen for a moment, lips perched on the lid of her strawberry refresher: "Ameliorate means... To... make something bad or unsatisfactory better."

Kiyoko muttered something about how it still didn't make sense. Of course it wouldn't- she was taking an organic chemistry course.

The plan as it stood now was to rot in this spot all day until hunger moved you, so you all made an event out of it by putting on something cute, grabbing some coffees and pastries from a cafe nearby, and settling into this local library.

It wasn't planned, but you all simultaneously chose to wear skirts and cute summer tops. The mutual reaction of humor helped ease the pain of having to study all day. Suffering together was preferable to suffering alone.

The chance finally came again to stretch your legs and find another vaguely relevant reference to add to your bibliography.

With a rewarding, careful stretch, you rose out of your chair and took your time walking up and down the aisles to find something to support the fifth theory you'd written about so far.

Midterms were one stressor, but you weren't afforded the privilege of having tunnel vision over it.

Qualifiers were just around the corner, and you had the Tokyo training camp to prepare a load of equipment and personnel logs for.

As you selected a thick novel from a shelf above your head, you let out a small sigh.

The front matter described a concept you could start to look into and fluff up to your liking for the paper. Your mind fell back to the team, and how you wanted to do well on these exams so you'd have less to worry about going to Tokyo.

The side of your face was growing warm, probably from the East-facing window to your left, so you raised the back of a cold hand to cool yourself down.

You were just deciding to take this book back when, in the process of dropping your hand, you caught a blur of blond hair and glasses in the corner of your eye.

Your stomach jolted, heart starting to race, and an uncontrollable surprise took over your features.

Tsukishima was sitting, leaned over a table on his elbows, his head twisted all the way to the side to look at you over his shoulder.

You quickly looked back to the shelf and sucked in a breath. God, that must've looked so lame- you regretted every millisecond of that reaction and prayed he wouldn't ever bring it up.

He hated you. You didn't want anything to do with him. There was no pleasant exchange to get out of saying hello, or even acknowledging each other. It's not like you were friends.

Why was he even here? You started to get worried, but realized that he did ride the same train back with you after practice in the evenings.

Now you were really remembering. He got off one stop before yours and always moved to create the most space possible between you. You usually didn't see him again until he got off. Even then, you didn't care enough to look for him anymore.

You glanced back to him, expecting to now have to speak to him after you'd exchanged a mutual acknowledgment of each other's presence.

He was staring. But... that wasn't exactly the right word for it.

He was distracted. You wondered if he knew who you were, because you'd never seen him stare at you for more than a few seconds.

His brow wasn't pinched like usual. It was relaxed- in fact, everything about him was relaxed. The way his head was held in his hand, the loose grasp on his pencil, the subtle part of his lips. The lazy, yet measured scan of his eyes.

There was a reddish tint at the tips of his ears and highest points of his cheeks. It was astoundingly easy to notice, since he was so fair-skinned.

A strong chill ran up your spine when he finally made eye contact with you. Even then, it took a glance down to the book clasped against your chest, then back up for him to really notice your gaze and stiffen right up.

That new side of him vanished in an instant. It was replaced with a brief, stone-cold glower before he turned back to his own midterm work.

On the stiff walk back to your table, you smoothed your skirt out and pulled on the edge a bit before sitting back down.

It took a minute of silent sitting to even begin to unpack what you felt.

"Do I look stupid?"

Yachi instantly piped up, "Of course not! You're very pretty!"

"You really shouldn't waste your breath asking," Kiyoko glanced up at you.

It was brief but it rested your immediate insecurities.

"Why?" Yachi, once again, wanted nothing more than to just hang out and talk.

Another surge of chills. It was sickening.

You put your head in your hands, elbows on the table. "Mm-mm, it's just-..." You thought to tell them, but held back at the last second, "I dunno."

Another big sigh and you were back to typing to take your mind off of it. You'd have plenty of time to see what this spun into once you were free from this academic prison. It was too confusing right now.

Kiyoko didn't read into it, but Yachi lingered until 1) it was obvious you simply didn't want to disclose and 2) an abnormally tall boy from school walked past your table. She watched him watch you on his way towards the exit.

Her eyes narrowed with keen intuition.

the keen intuition in question:

Kei felt himself practically melt against the closed door of his bedroom. Breathless from a difficult and quick walk home, he fumbled with the tie of his sweatpants and the lock on the door concurrently.

"Finally," He sighed with a desperate laugh, "Fuck..."

His bag hit the floor with a sharp and careless thump. He stepped over it and fell onto his back on his mattress, a long arm stretched toward his side table for some lotion.

It was useless trying to study after that. Library or home, it didn't matter unless he could fuck this one out.

This time he didn't have to stalk your Instagram to spark his imagination; it was already running rampant with filthy ideas of what he'd do to you in that short skirt.

An ignored, aching erection sprang out of his waistband as he pushed it down and out of the way.

Light grey sweatpants had (for the first time in his life) ended up being a shit idea. All he could worry about on the 20 minute walk back was if anyone could see the tip of his cock tucked up just under his shirt.

Every shirt was too short. Every pair of pants was too big in the middle.

His slippery hand was beautiful relief. He was quick to get himself lubricated, and quicker to pump in slow, twisting motions to the image of you reaching, reaching, reaching up to that book on your tippy toes.

All the worry in his tight brow washed away in crashing waves of steady-growing pleasure.

Soon he didn't care about the harrowing journey home, the threat of midterms, nor the growing dread of that training camp.

It was just you.

It felt like fate that he got the only chance anyone might ever have to see the curve of your ass just under the hem of your skirt. You were able to get that book all too quickly.

If everything were different, he would've gotten it for you. You would've thanked him, kissed him on the cheek- he would've pulled you in for a heated, raunchy kiss with a hand palming you closer. He would've savored the view of you spread on the table for him -homework long forgotten- and his massive hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. It was a library, after all.

He seethed and stalled for a moment--, "a-ahh- Mm..."

His cock twitched hard with the need to cum, but he stopped just soon enough.

An oversized hand was holding the base; he looked at his other dry one, then closed his eyes in an eager but fruitless attempt to visualize just how they'd look on your thighs. Fuck, anywhere at this point.

Just one touch, that's all he wanted. He never let himself get close enough to even consider it, but my god, the internal struggle he made to stay away was commendable.

His tight, lightly sweaty stomach flexed with effort as he slowed down again.

You were so quick to switch up when it came to him. He could tell he had a special place in your heart, the way your lips pursed into a small frown and your eyes narrowed when he tested you.

It was out-of-this-world cute from his vantage point. A smile might just kill him.

"Mmm, fu-ck," He croaked, mind circling back to today.

His chest swelled with a shaky inhale- he smirked at the thought of you finding out about his terrible secret, how you would punish him for his unprofessional behavior. You were so pretty when you got mad.

The breath caught in his throat. He wasn't even thinking about the skirt when he finally came all over his stomach. Just that pretty face of yours did it for him.

taglist:

@hotvinimon @cyzvx @aloveablechaos @kozumesphone

thanks for the support!!

reply to be added!

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suzukiblu · 2 days

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Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @this-was-a-terrible-idea behind the cut; mirrorverse!Clark and Kon's daddy issues both get some. Full disclosure, I was trying to wrap up the fic with these sentences so I stopped counting and took a looooong time getting them done, and then I realized I had gone WELL over and there was notably more fic left to write than I'd previously realized, so yeah, haha, never mind that, apparently, I'm just posting what I was supposed to and I'll have to finish it later. I TRIED, I SWEAR. ( chrono || non-chrono )

“You mean it?” Kon asks, trying not to hate himself for it.

“Of course I do,” Superman says, then kisses down his neck again; pets up the line of his hip again. Kon kind of wants to cry some more, but honestly doesn’t think he could if he tried. “You did so well for me. You were everything I could’ve asked for and more.”

Never mind. Kon apparently can cry some more.

“Thank you,” he chokes, lifting a hand to help him hide his face even as he turns it towards the mattress. Superman keeps petting him. Keeps kissing him, little scattered presses of his mouth dropped here and there against Kon’s skin.

And keeps talking, too.

“Oh, you’ve thanked me plenty, Kon-El,” he hums contentedly into the corner of his jaw, tracing the “S” on the shoulder of the jacket that Kon’s somehow managed not to lose, and all Kon wants is to give him everything he wants. He’s not stupid enough to do that, obviously, in the sense of if Superman asked him to kill or betray somebody for him he wouldn’t, but he is stupid enough to be in this bed with layered bruises shaped like the other's hands and mouth. Kon doesn’t bruise often, for obvious reasons. Even when someone can hit him hard enough to affect his Kryptonian biology, there’s still the TTK to get through.

The only thing his TTK’s done since this Superman first touched him is fucking collapse, though.

Superman traces the El crest again. Kon is very, very aware that the actual reason he never lost his jacket through the whole process of getting his brains fucked out and very literally breaking the bed is because Superman wanted him to wear that crest through that whole process.

Wants him wearing it even now.

Kon wants to cry about that too, and maybe does a little. Superman presses a kiss in behind his ear and slides a hand down over his stomach. Or–under it, a little more like.

Kon’s stomach is flat, obviously. The six-pack version of “flat”, but flat.

Superman’s hand is positioned like he’s cradling it, though. Positioned like . . .

"You'll take care of your daddy's baby, won't you, sweetheart?” Superman murmurs, pressing another kiss to the back of Kon’s neck as he splays his big broad hand across his stomach. “Raise them to be good like you? Proud to wear my crest?”

"Y-yes, Daddy,” Kon stutters, digging his fingers into the mattress as something painful stabs him straight through the heart.

"That's my boy,” Superman praises with obvious satisfaction, and tugs his face to turn so he can kiss him again as he slides a hand down to hook his fingers inside his cunt. Kon whimpers into his mouth, and feels Superman smile against his own.

It’s a long time before Superman’s done with him, again. Kon gets fucked, and kissed, and then Superman takes him to the little adjoining bathroom and fucks him again in the shower, and then he . . . then he cleans him up, to the point he even washes his fucking hair for him. Kon feels like a thing, feels like a whore, feels weak and defenseless and like–like–

Superman kisses him again as he presses their bodies back together and coaxes him into both riding his fingers and fucking his fist, into begging for more despite how sore and exhausted he is, and Kon doesn't know how he feels at all.

He comes for it, though.

And he kisses him back, obviously.

Kon almost cries again when Superman dries his hair for him after they’re done.

“Such a treasure,” Superman murmurs admiringly as he sweeps Kon's hair back off his face, sounding exactly like Clark does when he talks to Jon, and Kon does, in fact, cry a little more. Just a couple more tears, but . . .

Superman kisses those tears off his face with a soothing hum, and Kon shudders.

“Daddy,” he rasps hoarsely, his voice still a little too tight, and Superman kisses him again. Kisses him slow and sweet and tender, and holds him like he's something worth holding on to. Something . . . precious.

Kon fucking hates himself.

His TTK field still won't come back up, and he doesn't know if any part of him has even tried to compartmentalize any of this. Not even a little bit.

Superman strokes his fingers down his stomach, lingering and possessive, and Kon shudders again.

#this-was-a-terrible-idea #wip: mirrorverse!clark and kon's daddy issues #dubious consent

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 2 days

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Bigby Wolf x Reader Headcanons (NSFW)

Oh ho ho, pookie >:)

I tried making this gender neutral

NSFW alphabets are gonna come back, idk how tho. I may make em Ao3 exclusive to promote it?

🌙 Just from looking at the disgruntled sheriff, you wouldn't even think of him being anything but a top- But he's very much a switch. As much as he loves dominating you in bed, he also loves relinquishing control and letting you take the reigns. He will never admit it, but he loves being spoiled in bed.

🌙 He started out absolutely sucking with aftercare. It wasn't because he didn't want to do it, it was because he never really had the experience. Bigby's a loyal dog and he's so ready to wait on hand and foot to take care of you when you're both spent.

🌙 Bigby loves to please you. Others, not so much. But you? He would drop everything just to satisfy you sexually if he could. Any way you want it, he'll do it: Orally, fingering, rough, soft, on the table or bent over the kitchen counter. You name it.

🌙 He has a not-so-little secret where he wants to fuck you on his desk. He wants to bat the papers and folders off, push you down and mount you. He knows you would be down for it, the issue is that his office is right down the hall from the Business Office and so many Fables - especially Snow and King Cole - walk past every day.

🌙 Condomns sadly don't really for Bigby. It's not that he doesn't like the use of them, they just don't seem to last; Especially if Bigby turns during sex. Not only that, but Bigby cums a lot, especially if you both haven't done it in a while.

🌙 He feels bad when you're both intimate sometimes and he suddenly wolfs out. It's always a shock to both of your systems, especially yours as you're not needing to accommodate the stretch of a bigger and girthier cock on top of him being a lot rougher than he usually is.

🌙 But fuck if he doesn't love it when you spur him on, knowing that you're also spurring on the beast that lies just beneath his skin. It drives him wild when you tease him to the point of him turning only to feign innocence before sauntering away, swaying your hips and throwing a glance over your shoulder like you're not about to get fucked into the nearest surface.

🌙 When he does fuck you as a werewolf, he loves if when you dig your nails into his beastly shoulders and tug on his soft fur. The pain from pulling just does something to him, sending little electric shocks right down his dick that's currently plowing into you. You can also earn bonus points if you call him a good boy.

🌙 He prefers to cum inside of you, some primal need because so satisfied when he spills his warm seed inside of you whether it's in your mouth or your sex. There are also times when he fights those urges and cums on your face or your ass. His favorite place is on your stomach so he can lick it and then kiss you.

🌙 He has a little thing that he's ashamed of, only because it's tied to something obvious from his past: Bigby loves it when you wear the color red. To anyone else, it would end with Bigby being berated because of what happened with Red Riding Hood (it's not from that though), but you don't do that. Instead, you often surprise him by wearing red underwear under your clothes.

🌙 He's not a very talkative person, the less the best really. But with you? He's talking a hell of a lot more. In the bedroom, he's always saying something; Encouraging you, complimenting you, begging for you.

🌙 He too loves to tease. Often pinning you to the mattress, calloused fingers gliding gently over your sensitivities as he speaks softly, telling you all about what he's going to do to you in his deep and scratchy voice. He loves it when you squirm and plead for him to shut the fuck up and start doing something to you.

🌙 If you have a thing for spanking, he totally stole the Crowd Control paddle from the overcrowded evidence room. He even patched up the splintered wood and re-wrapped the cotton grip. Although he would definitely prefer his hand, he does like the noises you make when you get the paddle to your poor behind.

🌙 Is it any shock to you that his favorite position to fuck you in is doggy style? He always gets an earful when you tease him about it afterwards, scoffing playfully and rolling his eyes before he states that he can find better positions to fuck you in. Mating press is another one of his favorites, especially when he wolfs out.

🌙 Bigby isn't the type of guy to really like to inflict a lot of pain. Spanking and choking are great and all, but he won't really push past those borders into something deeper unless you both really talk things out. He's already a rough and strong person, one wrong move and he can seriously hurt you and he would never forgive himself for it.

🌙 He's an ass man for sure. If you ever walk past him in tighter pants, he can always be caught staring right at the curve of your ass. He doesn't blush and look away and try to deny it, instead, he gets a shit-eating grin and fully accepts he was caught before offering that he can take a break if you want to teach him a lesson.

🌙 He's not a fan of roleplaying. He's pretty awkward socially and he would often fumble words or straight-up forget you both were doing so in the first place. It often gets funny when you would say something sexually weird and Bigby would instantly drop character and say the most Bigby thing imaginable.

🌙 Bigby has the strength to pull you into whatever position he wants you to be in. Even when you've climaxed for the umpteenth time and he's still ramming into your poor hole, he's easily holding you up by your hips, shoulders or waist until he's spent himself inside of you.

🌙 He's not the type to smoke after sex. Instead, he often wraps one of his big muscular arms around your waist and drags you as close as possible against his chest and indulge himself in your scent. He insists that you always smell better when you climax.

🌙 He doesn't drift off right away, often kept up by his racing thoughts and heart. He tries to make some light conversation while you're both snuggled close, but he leaves you to rest if you drift off. It's often hard sometimes to calm down if the beast inside wanted to come out to play but he didn't let it.

#bigby wolf #bigby wolf x reader #bigby x reader #the wolf among us #twau

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paunchsalazar · 2 years

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Hi, I have a question regarding the books you read each month. Do you buy the books, or rent them from a library? If you do buy them, do you always make sure you're going to like the book, or do you just find a book with an interesting summary and hope for the best? I'm asking this because I'm amazed at how you're able to find and read so many books, while I can only read a book or two in a month because it's difficult to find something that piques my interest, and even then I rarely buy the book in fear I'll get tired of it and never read it again.

Hi!

It is definitely a mix!

I try and see if anything I'm looking for will be at my nearest library locations but sometimes it's limited or the newer releases are all checked out. A lot of the time I can find the manga I'm looking for at the library which is nice! Especially because buying a series could mean like 20+ volumes, and I go through them so fast it can be a bit of a bummer if the manga was just okay. (I read Ouran all from the library and then desperately bought the volumes I didn't have because I wanted to read them forever)

As for purchasing - I try to buy from smaller independent publishers if I can! It's more of a recent development, but I like the overall approaches of Tilted Axis, Honford Star, maybe New Directions Publishing enough to think 'I will be able to finish this, it will be worthwhile'. Perhaps some New York Review Books too.. but that doesn't mean they're all winners!! I follow a few translators and like to see what they're reading lol!! I think that's it.. after 1 or 2 examples of thinking 'I trust your taste' I'll pick up anything they mention even if just to look into it.

I like to get all other sorts of novels from a store if possible!! same for indie comics. Attention-span wise I get a bit distracted reading a 600+ page comic unless it's right there in paper form.

It is hard though... very annoying to buy a book and then have it collect dust... I think I try to read previews if they're available!! Maybe for 5-10 pages just to see if I can get into the voice, whatever it may be. Maybe it'll be slow or maybe the plot won't be incredible but will each word be an uphill battle to read? or will it flow easily enough? If at the library I might sit and read a few pages before checking it out to see if I can commit to it. Since they're rarely time sensitive I usually just go with what sounds interesting right now and sometimes read a bundle of related things or return to something I like or a new release from an author I admire, but overall try to shake it up a little...

I have a few friends whose recommendations I trust!! That usually accounts for a lot of the choices. I like to keep up with the Booker Prize nominees and a few other literary prizes - I haven't bought them all, but I like to see what's on the list and read the summaries and previews and decide if I want to buy them.

I think... at least if it's not for an assignment or you're not particularly trying to research for something - reading should be fun!!! whatever that means to you! I have a fun time reading old Greek tragedies or contemporary novels or shonen manga but I think if something feels like pulling teeth to read it's just not worth it! not worth reading or buying lol...

But I also think it's a bit like a muscle... and I definitely had to work up my reading stamina (still working on it... it's gone down this summer lol) I like to read something fun - like Percy Jackson lol, as almost a palate cleanser? to get the ball rolling, and then refreshing, up-tempo novels in the 150-300 page range, read some comics, and then maybe throw in a 700 pager in there. But personally, I need to mix it up or I'll just get sleepy!!

Of all the books in all those forms, some were from the library, some purchased in stores (I live by Skylight Books now - which is awesome!! I've never lived by a bookstore like that so close except for one year in college lol!) and some were ordered online - usually Bookshop or Thriftbooks or the publisher directly (I don't like to buy from Amazon if I can find a book anywhere else).

So it's a bit of testing the water? Word of mouth? Still, there are certainly flops... I'm trying to reduce the ratio though, and I really read them all to the end even if they're not my favorite. (Literally only one book on my shelves remains unfinished and it is The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James) but I try to give them to friends or sell them lol!!

#sorry this is wandering and confusing and not really a clear answer!!! but... i think about it a lot #went to bookstore just this morning and had the whole 'is this worth buying?? what do I get for the month! now or later?' etc etc crisis...#i think i have slowly figured out what I like and keep expanding that net but it's all trial and error...#if something is painful though just drop it...

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