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#even considering different heights and weights and such
myfairkatiecat · 2 months
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So I was thinking about the whole elves-being-naturally-prettier-than-humans thing because that was always sort of weird to me when I FINALLY think I figured it out.
Humans used to know about the elves, and there are some things they still remember—hence myths about Atlantis and such. Reality is, humans and elves resembled each other in a lot of ways, but elves put themselves on a pedestal as better than every other species (that’s, like, canon, and better be addressed more fully at some point?) and that’s probably a part of the reasons humans “betrayed” the elves—they got sick of hearing that elves were better.
But it was just sort of implanted in their minds, though they weren’t fans of the idea, and elves didn’t go to great lengths to erase that idea from their minds. So humans remember myths and some things about elves, and Atlantis being the underwater city………and beauty standards.
It’s not that elves are naturally prettier than humans. It’s that human beauty standards are shaped around the natural looks of elves.
Thanks for coming to my ted talk
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gobbogoo · 27 days
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I LOVE Dungeon Meshi's Realistic Fantasy Races
Ok, I had to stop for a moment to gush about the fantasy races of Dunmeshi, and all the consideration that's been put into them, because they actually follow a degree of natural/evolutionary logic not found in most fantasy stories!
Half-Foots (halflings/hobbits):
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So we all know these fellows have excellent hearing and smell, but have you considered WHY? It's an adaptation to counteract their size. Humans (called tallmen in this setting) rely so much on eyesight because we're really tall compared to most animals, giving us a fantastic vantage of our environment. Half-Foots don't have this advantage, and therefore rely on their other senses. It's also much more important for them to be able to detect unseen threats and move quickly, because their size makes them ill-equipped for direct conflict.
Dwarves:
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So Dwarves are depicted as MUCH stronger than tallmen despite their size, right? This is because strength is determined not by size, but by mass, and dwarven bodies are very dense! Yet this comes with the downside of their bodies burning more energy and overheating much faster, which is why dwarves are also shown to be heat-resistant, and why they tend to wear lighter clothing that exposes more skin! Their night-vision is also better than humans' due to their semi-underground lifestyle, while their hearing remains about the same since sound naturally carries in caves. Their hairiness is also likely a direct adaptation to counteract magic, as it's been shown to form a natural buffer when left unwashed.
Gnomes:
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Gnomes are supposed to be evolutionary cousins to dwarves, and it shows! They share a similar height, but are less muscular and have peculiarly-shaped ears, almost mirroring the difference between human and elven ears. Their affinity with nature and spirits also makes sense, because physically they're in an awkward spot compared to the other short races, lacking both the hefty strength of dwarves and the light nimbleness of half-foots. Being less equipped both for fight and flight, it makes sense they'd instead adapt the instinctive ability to read their environments and mitigate its threats through cohabitation.
Elves:
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Like gnomes, elves are in a physically awkward place, however it's even more extreme. Their relatively light and weak bodies make them ill-equipped for direct conflict, and while likely able to move faster than tallmen due to weight, they lack the half-foot's danger-detection senses. This makes them seemingly helpless, however interestingly it actually explains why they're so advanced compared to other races! They were basically forced to coordinate problem-solve, and control their environments out of necessity, which is reflected in their more controlling and direct relationship with magic and nature compared to gnomes.
This actually mirrors the real-world difference between humans and neanderthals. Anthropologists believe neanderthals weren't actually dumber than humans, but that their superior strength and durability meant they weren't forced to problem-solve or control their environments like humans, meaning they seemed less advanced.
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shegetsburned · 22 days
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Uhm hi 👋🏻 could you please write something about Gojo, Nanami, Geto and Toji's reactions to their significant other's life being threatened? Like heartbreaking stuff that ends up well? 👉🏻👈🏻
LOSING YOU w. jujutsu kaisen men ˚ 𐙚 ⋆.
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.angst/fluff.
• — ft. satoru gojo, kento nanami, suguru geto, toji fushiguro. took me ages to get to but i’m a sucker for angst, so i just had to do it. thanks for the request, luv! • — content. their reaction to your life being threatened. • — tw. mentions of death, violence, murder.
satoru gojo
₊˚⊹ ᰔ as soon as your name came out of yaga’s mouth, satoru wasted no time and vanished. he searched every place he knew, every corner and alley, in a matter of seconds. there was no coherent thought in his mind while he teleported. the only thing he could clearly see was you. that you were in danger and that you needed to be saved. that he couldn’t let you die and that he previously had so clearly promised that he’d never let anything happen to either you or him.
a liar, he thought he was. how could he have let this happen? what was the point of being the strongest sorcerer if he couldn’t even protect you. he really did believe nothing could happen to you if he was by your side. he’d murder anyone who’d ever try to harm you without even looking back. this time wouldn’t be any different.
he felt his heartbeat reach his ears when he finally felt you near an ally, back pressed against the wall. a hand on your chest, crimson blood dripping down your shirt. jerky breaths escaping your trembling lips. this curse had taken his sweet time with you. it wanted to feed and you were a tasty dinner. there were marks of struggle on your shredded clothes and bruised wrists.
nothing came out of satoru’s mouth when his eyes landed on you. he just couldn’t believe he had let this happen to you. his expression was stoic. when he slowly approached you the curse immediately felt it. the strongest sorcerer doesn’t let most curses escape from his grasp. but this one.. this one would inevitably suffer the most.
it wasn’t long before the curse felt his body being pushed against the wall in front of you. a yelp was heard when his skull hit the wall head-on. you could hear the bones crack and send shivers through your entire being. that’s when you realized your boyfriend had finally arrived. but when you lifted your head trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes he had already turned all his attention towards the threat.
you had never seen him like this. he was lifeless. his eyebrows were lowered and pulled closer together. you could’ve sworn his eyes bulged. he was enraged. he didn’t even bother to raise his arm towards the curse, he just advanced and slowly- very slowly crushed every little bone in the monster’s body.
you were out of breath but couldn’t shift your gaze from the horrible spectacle in front of you. the wall caved under the pressure as gojo used his infinity to create a space between him and the curse which only crushed it more. it was cruel. cruel but deserving considering the circumstances.
the curse’s body was retracting upon itself with no way out. a loud and piercing cry followed the sound of the wall being crushed under the weight of the infinity. the only thing you found the strength to mumble under your breath was your boyfriend’s name.
after a few seconds, black smoke emanated from the crushed bricked wall with no curses in sight. no remains, nothing. your heavy breath filled the air as satoru finally sighted. you could barely see his eyes when he turned to you, crouching down at your height.
his violence had surprised you, but you were so relieved. tears ran down your cheeks when you tried to speak. you tried to reach for satoru when he crouched but he was quicker and wrapped one arm around your back and another supporting the back of your head. he held you close and it made you feel at home. his scent and touch reassured you when you buried your head in his neck.
still silent, he held you tightly close to his chest. his hand threaded your hair, a slight pressure applied so he could make sure you were okay. you could feel all his anger slowly fade when you returned the gesture with one hand against his chest. your tears slowly fading as you felt the warmth of satoru around your body.
“satoru..”
he shushed you. always pulling you closer and closer to him. he wasn’t going to leave this time. he’d never let you endure something like this ever again.
“i’m right here. you’re safe. lend me your pain, baby. i’ll carry you the rest of the way.” he whispered into your ear, caressing your back so that you’d warm up to his touch. you could feel he was slowly coming back to being the satoru you knew.
you were safe in his arms but guilt still ran deep inside of him. he promised to take you to shoko as soon as possible, resting by your side until you were completely healthy. he also promised himself to assign you with an escort when he couldn’t be here to protect you.
satoru’s only concern was you and he’d never let anything get in the way of your well-being ever again. if he had to show every curse on this earth that he’d destroy them if they ever tried to get near you, he’d have no hesitation in doing so. you were safe. you knew it, now.
kento nanami
₊˚⊹ ᰔ you were the most important person for nanami. his one and only. his love, his soul, his heart. he would’ve resigned in an instant if you hadn’t begged him to keep his job as a sorcerer. but knowing his personal feelings about loss, you knew it’d break him if something came to happen to you. that is precisely why you always acted cautiously, never putting yourself in harm's way and living your life as safely as you could. unfortunately, this time, your efforts had been in vain.
when he saw you, helplessly struggling at the mercy of a first-grade curse wrapped around your throat, all he could think about was how much he regretted not having taken a safer job and bought you that house you both talked about so much on a beach in malaysia.
he knew he needed to act quickly or the curse would finish you off as easily as it had taken you hostage.
you wiggled your feet when it lifted you off the ground, hands desperately scratching and holding onto his grasp so he’d let go of his claws around your throat. you could feel kento’s eyes on you but couldn’t even dare to look at him or do anything else than push against the claws so they wouldn’t crush your neck further.
therefore, you couldn’t see him remove his tie, wrapping it tightly around his knuckles. he knew he couldn’t use a weapon, scared that the curse would use you as a shield. his fists were more precise and his sword wasn’t enough to unleash the rage he had built up inside.
he slowly made his way to the curse but, with every step, its hold crushed you more. you were so scared, almost out of breath with tears rolling down your cheeks. these cheeks kento had kissed so many times to take away your pain. you were hoping he’d do it once more.
once he realized that the threatening stance he was in only alarmed the curse, kento stood down, lowering his curse energy’s flow to an almost invisible state. he made himself look harmless in the face of the monster which slowly but surely helped you to breathe better.
you knew your husband. you had heard it several times from yuji and Ino and you also personally knew that he always handled things the right way. this is was kept you from breaking down and letting go of your almost meaningless fight against the curse’s strength. you had never doubted him and you wouldn’t now. he built his strength with yours. that’s what kento had told you the day he had asked for your hand.
his eyes were locked with your struggling gaze. despite him trying to contain himself, his veins stood out from how tightly he clenched his fists. he would’ve massacred the curse right here and now if it hadn’t cowardly taken you hostage. nanami might have seemed harmless in the moment but his anger was apparent.
without thinking much about it, he threw his sword aside, lifting his hands above to show complete surrender to the curse.
“let her go.”
the furious and deep voice of your husband made you whine, finally hearing a sign from him. unfortunately you could feel that the curse was still hesitating. the clinging of the sword on the ground had startled it which only showed kento how weak it really was. it also showed that it did not want to fight but preferred to flee.
this strange demeanor encouraged kento to step closer, hands still in the air, and that’s when he saw his opening. the curse was looking left and right to find an escape which diminished his attention and loosened his grip around your throat. it lasted just a few seconds but it was enough for you to breathe out his name.
“kento..”
that’s when he drew his fist and used all of his force and cursed energy to deliver a devastating blow right into the curse spirit’s face. it was sent flying several meters away after dropping you so kento could easily catch you and keep you from hitting the ground, arms wrapped around your body.
it only took one hit. one punch to obliterate half of the curse’s body in pieces. the shock had been so violent that your savior’s knuckles bled on your shirt through his yellow tie.
“mine.”
you could feel his heavy breath against your neck when he got on one knee, holding you against him, a hand carefully placed on your cheek. his thumb caressing your skin and whipping the single tear you shed.
“my love..”
kento’s expression had returned to the one you knew. the calm but stoic gaze he wore returned your breath to a normal pace. his arms pulled you always closer to him and he felt his sense come back when your fingers brushed the hand he had placed on your shoulder. you couldn’t talk or you’d burst into tears so you smiled in admiration.
he placed his warm lips upon your forehead and you could feel how scared he had been, maybe even more scared than you. his eyes were stuck on your finger, the one that wore his ring.
losing haibara had crushed his soul to tiny little pieces and you had been the one to delicately put them all back together with your innocent kindness and understanding. he’d be damned if he was to let something happen to the one who saved his heart.
this was the first and last time your life had been threatened, thanks to the careful supervision of kento but also his promise to quit his job and buy that house. he hadn’t realized how much he already had with you and would curse anybody who tried to take his happiness away from him ever again.
suguru geto
₊˚⊹ ᰔ you trusted him. you trusted that, if you were in pain, suguru would find ways to eradicate that pain. you trusted that if you showed any sign of distress, he’d be by your side helping you in any way he could. most importantly, you trusted that he’d protect you no matter the cost and no matter the consequences, because he was devoted to you. if there was something he’d burn the whole world for, it’d be you.
these men, these humans, these pathetic monkeys that had attacked you on your way home never knew what would come for them. you were beaten and almost lifeless when the men started searching for any kind of money or jewelry you had on your person. of course, you had resisted. that’s the only thing you could do, because you were so scared that if you had willingly complied to their demand they would’ve asked for more.
being helpless was scary. you thought it wouldn’t be so scary with suguru by your side, but right now you had never been more terrified. you also knew that your boyfriend would never forgive the men that harmed you, so the only thing you could do was wait. because you did not doubt him. you never doubted him. you knew he’d come for you.
when the men had finished checking your bags and any belongings you had on your person, one approached you, lifting your chin with a vulgar smile. you couldn’t even look at him in the eyes but hit bullseye when you spat directly in his face making him drop you in anger. he cursed under his breath before tightly grabbing you by the collar. a hand in the air so it’d land on your face.
with a weak and desperate groan you turned your face away but was surprised when the slap never landed.
when you reopened your eyes to look at your aggressor, he had his own hands wrapped his throat. it’s like he was struggling to breath, a firm pressure was crushing his neck as he tried to break free from this invisible hold.
when you realized what might be happening you tried to take a peak at the other men who were all struggling with the same problem. scratching and screaming at the invisible menace that were preventing them from breathing.
under the distressed shoutings, a cocky laugh attracted your gaze. when you turned to look at the source, your face lit up at the sight of suguru. but he didn’t look as relieved as you were. his laugh was dark, almost cynical. it was psychotic and displeased.
you had seen him despise simple-minded humans before but killing them was a different story. he wasn’t only taking their lives, he was torturing them. their necks were getting slowly squashed by the curses he had sent on them.
seeing you struggle to breath, helpless at the hand of those who had harmed an innocent girl like you. his girl. it had awaken another kind of hatred in him. a hatred that had been buried deep for so long.
suguru took one good look at you, searching for your eyes but you were incapable of keeping them open. you were just glad your boyfriend had arrived. you knew you were safe when you rested your eyes, a small smile of satisfaction drawn on your lips.
when he concentrated his gaze back on the man that had touched you, he crouched in front of him, getting to his level before taking over the curse and wrapping his hand around the stranger’s neck. tormenting him and taking the air away from him. suguru tightened his grip, his smile fading when he brought the man closer and closer towards death.
“so you think you can just harm her and get away with it?”
the man was hissing swears as small cries of help escaped his bloody lips. his face was swollen and breaking down under suguru’s hold and his watering eyes looked like they would pop out of their socket sooner or later. that’s how tight he held the man.
“pathetic.”
he fed on their cries. helplessly calling out for help, the men only fueled his rage with their insufferable sounds. the sorcerer remembered every time he had felt an ounce of empathy for these beings in the past and regretted every actions he had done to protect them when he saw your wounded state. what they had done was inexcusable and no amount of pain would be enough to atone for it.
after a while, resigned, your offender chocked out a weak apology. but as he did, all the bones in his body instantly broke under another a new kind of pressure coming from yet another curse suguru had unleashed upon him. so now he laid there, between your boyfriend’s compressed clutch. dead.
after a few seconds he dropped the body on the ground like garbage waste and walked to you, passing by the other men that were struggling to breath. he pushed the first one aside with his foot, throwing one on the ground, creating a path for him to walk to you.
“move. i’ve come to take what’s mine.”
on suguru’s command, two snaps followed when the curses broke the other men’s necks before they fell on the floor. three lifeless corpses were now scattered in front of both of you, and as soon as he made sure those stupide monkeys had payed for what they had done, he joined you.
when he leaned towards you, his hand grazed yours, wrapping it with his own in a warm grip. his eyes searched for yours, lifting your chin with his thumb before running it along your jaw, making comforting circles on your cheek.
“are you alright, my love? can you walk?”
suguru’s tone was calmer than before. his eyes never left yours when he wiped one of your tears. his comforting smile reassured you and you nodded at his question, holding onto his wrist when he helped you up, closing the distance between the two of you.
you could hear his calm heartbeat when you leaned against his chest, hiding between his arms and you wondered how he could be so tranquil after killing these men so easily. little did you know the only thing he felt was rage. he knew he was right to despise these inferior beings that had harmed the only important thing that mattered.
he could’ve burned the world for you.
toji fushiguro
₊˚⊹ ᰔ toji fushiguro was an asshole. a first-class asshole. you guys had slept together left and right and he always left first. you had no expectations regarding the man. no doubt that you were replaceable. he didn’t open up much and never talked about his work which didn’t alarm you much considering toji’s character.
basically, emotionally and personally speaking, you two weren’t close. that’s why, when two strangers raided your apartment, screaming fushiguro’s name in anger, you wondered why you had accepted to sleep with a man with a secret and violent past.
your furniture was on the floor and the men had destroyed most of your electronics so you had no way to call for help. one was guarding the door while the other took care of questioning you. it had something to do with a bet and broken promises. of course, money had to be involved, otherwise, why would they be threatening the girl he had slept with once or twice to know of his whereabouts?
tied to a chair, almost unconscious, he had been covering you with bruises and scratches using anything that he could find but you still gave him the same answer. you had no idea where toji was as he never kept contact with you. he was always the one that came to you. and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to come save you anytime soon.
after a while, when the man realized he might not easily get an answer out of you, he reached in his back, pulling out a pistol from the edge of his pants. at the sight of the gun, your heart shattered. that was it for you, you thought. you couldn’t get out of this mess and you would die convinced toji was out there somewhere, probably getting rich and fucking naive girls like you.
you couldn’t even talk anymore, your head was hanging in front of you, blood dripping from your mouth to your thighs. you didn’t know if you’d last long, your vision was blurry and you felt yourself chasing the dark tunnel that clouded your eyesight.
you could hear faint words of command when your chin was lifted with the cold metallic canon of the pistol. the man had your life between his hands. you knew he’d pull the trigger if he eventually realized you couldn’t give him any information he needed. you knew he would kill you. it was so easy and you were pissing him off.
your eyes never left his nervous figure which only frustrated him more and, out of instinct, he slapped you with the handle of the pistol, almost knocking the air out of you. your jaw was broken and tears were flooding your eyes when the blow forced you to look away.
but as he pulled his arm up, preparing for another strike, he seemed to stop in his movement, startled by something behind him. sounds of struggles and a broken door were heard when he shifted his gaze entirely towards the front of your apartment. his accomplice had disappeared which alerted the man and made him call out to him.
several seconds and unanswered calls later, on his guard, the armed stranger decided to go take a look. as soon as he took a step towards the broken piece of wood that was left, a corpse dropped to his feet.
it was the other man, and he seemed to have been brutally murdered from the back, a hole at his heart’s level revealed the level of violence he had endured which left the man panicked and distressed. sweat was covering his forehead when he tried to peak out the door, fingers trembling against the handle and trigger.
unfortunately for him, a tall and broad shadow quickly covered him, before a shot came off. one single gunshot followed by a loud thud.
you could barely make up the identity of the person who had saved you with your weak sight, but his odour was enough for you to distinguish the man clearly. he always smelled the same.
toji was here. he was standing in the doorway, a tight grip around his gun and a grin covering his scarred lips. “can’t believe they send these weaklings to come after me.”
he carefully stepped between the cadavers, examining the poor state of your apartment and their lifeless bodies before his gaze shifted to you. a quick exchange was enough for you to sigh in relief and let yourself relax to an unconscious state.
despite himself, he did feel an ounce of guilt when he took a good look at you. his mistakes had almost gotten you killed. he couldn’t have imagined how he would’ve felt if he had arrived too late. the blood on your face, the broken jaw and the many scars were revealed by the moonlight passing through the door. the cold air misplaced your hair for toji to see tears strolling down your face.
his grin faded as he stood still in front of you and the mess he had made. his grip had loosened around the gun but he slowly moved the canon towards the second man he had killed. without hesitation, he emptied his clip through the culprit’s head, a look of contempt and disgust plastered on his face.
“tsk.. you just had to go and get yourself noticed, hm?” he said, now focused only on you.
thanks to toji, you were safe now. and you had silently thanked him for coming back for you.
carrying you bridal style as you laid there now unconscious but safe in his arms, he placed his thumb against your jaw, tilting your head to get a proper look at you. even now, you were so beautifully calm and your cheeks wore a pink tint, probably because of the cold, which only accentuated your beauty and innocence.
with a sigh, like it weighed on his conscience, toji murmured. “guess someone’s gonna have to take care of you, from now on.”
but the truth was far from what it appeared to be. saving you that night had just brought the man closer to the conclusion that he cherished you more than he thought he did. you weighed on his conscience like a guilty obsession which he could only nourish by spending more time by your side.
© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.
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angelltheninth · 3 months
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The First Day of Happily Ever After
Pairing: Vox x Fem!Reader x Valentino
Tags: nsfw, smut, flashbacks, anal, blowjob, comfort, new relationship, domestic fluff, teasing, height difference, referenced abuse
Word count: 1k
A/N: Another fic for @massivementalitynut.
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"And this..." Vox kicked the doors open dramatically, "Will be your new room." The TV demon gestured around the red and blue hued bedroom Valentino was carrying you into. "Got your state of the art tech." With his logo on it of course.
Valentino grinned from ear to ear, already eyeing the bed and then your widening eyes. "Not to worry sugar, we won't break it tonight." He nuzzled his face against yours. His arms tightened around your body, pulling you close and looking you over, "Ah, Voxy, let's get Velvette on the call, this sweet little thing needs better clothes if she's gonna be living with us."
You were lowered gently on the bed, the two demons standing over you in a way that made you recall last night. How they slowly took your clothes off, how Valentino was the first one to push you down and straddle your face, teasing your mouth open with his cock before sinking it deep down your throat.
But he said he would give you a break for tonight. You were still sore after all. From last night you could tell that the two VV's had a huge sexual appetite but thankfully they also had each other to satiate it.
"Close your mouth. Otherwise this one might take it as an invitation." Vox elbowed a grinning Valentino who didn't deny the accusation, only shrugged and sat down next to you, his hat thrown to the side and wings unfurling around him like a cape. "Calling Velvette now."
Vox sat by your other side, a screen appearing in front of him, ringing once before Velvette's face appeared. "Ugh, now what are you two clowns up to?"
"Velvette! We got a little beauty here in need of more... VVV fit clothes." The tall moth demon gestured at you and then to Velvette, before his other hand grabbed your chin, "Just look at her pretty face. Don't you think the rest of her deserves to be just as pretty?"
"Hold on... is this the one you told me about? The chick you banged last night?" You cringed at the crude words, but you couldn't say it wasn't true. Even if you denied it you were pretty sure the ache between your legs, the marks on your thighs and back and tits were all fine proof.
"The one and only." Valentino purred as he kissed your cheek.
"Uhm... hello." You waived at the fashionista, feeling even smaller then before.
Velvette leaned in close to her screen, looking at you up and down. "Fine. I have nothing better to do today anyway. Bring her in an hour."
With a snap of his fingers Vox made the floating screen poof away in a wave of static. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, the weight being lifted off your shoulders now that the last of the VVV's accepted you. The three of them were some of the most admired demons in the Pride ring, with good reasons. Impressing them was rather difficult, so you considered this your greatest achievement yet.
You let yourself fall back on the bed, "Thank you." You whispered.
"Hey, we ain't letting you freeload here sugartits. You wanna stay here you gotta work. We'll find something for you." A blue clawed hand pulled your sleeve up, revealing the handcuff marks, "Wow, you weren't kidding last night, you really do bruise easily."
"Which makes you prefect for us." Valentino's hands ran up your legs rubbing them up and down, not to arouse but to soothe you. "Well shit, you don't have to open your legs every time I touch you. Although it saves me a lot of time." He teased as he leaned in close and captured your lips in a kiss, licking over the bruise on it. "You whimper so nicely."
The two of them heard much more then your whimpers last night. You didn't know it was possible to moan so loud. You didn't know how good having both your holes fucked at the same time could feel. It took a while to get you ready, but neither Vox or Valentino cared how long it took as long as they got to come inside you at the end of the night.
"She's taking it so well, eh Val?" Vox grinned at his partner over your shoulder, his claws dug into your thighs, pushing you down on his cock while Valentino pulled you backwards at the same time.
"It's been a while since I've had an ass this tight. You really are a cute, innocent little thing aren't you. We'll make a slut out of you yet. By the end of the night even." He laughed low in his throat, setting a faster pace once he felt you relax around him, "We'll loosen you up."
You shook your head to get rid of these thoughts. You had a meeting with Velvette soon and you couldn't get there horny.
"We still got a bit of time. How about the three of us get into the bath?" Vox suggested, "Not for the kinky stuff, but you should get cleaned up before seeing Velvette. Trust me you do not want her to scrub you down. Parts of my back still have scars from that shit." As the TV demon shivered you couldn't help but giggle at his apparent fear.
Valentino picked you back up, his glasses falling down his face, "We could always clean you with out tongues if you prefer. You seemed to enjoy it last night." He flicked his tongue towards you, not expecting you to grab him and kiss him. "Mmm. So glad we picked someone so eager."
"Yeah, you do know how to pick 'em Val. And so do I." Vox gave him a little slap on the ass as he pulled both of you towards the big bathroom. "You're gonna love it here sweetheart, promise."
Your chest tightened with warmth, you already felt more welcome here then you ever did at home, both in life and in death.
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messrmoonyy · 20 days
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- The Forbidden Fruit
Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader
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Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC
A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.
Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )
AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)
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Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 
Unfortunately you were no different. 
In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 
Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 
But no. 
Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 
He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 
And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 
Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 
In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 
But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 
Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 
And today was no different. 
“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 
He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 
You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 
“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 
“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 
“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”
“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 
But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 
He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 
‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 
He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 
He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 
“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 
You. 
He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 
“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 
He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 
And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 
But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 
“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 
Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 
“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 
“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 
“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “
You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 
“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 
You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 
“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 
“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 
“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 
“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 
“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “
“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 
“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 
“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 
Someone was finally listening. 
“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 
He blamed it on his fatigue. 
“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 
“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 
He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 
“ Really? “ 
“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”
“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 
“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 
“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “
“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 
“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 
The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 
He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 
“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 
Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 
“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 
“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 
Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.
Oh he was such a fool. 
“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 
“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 
His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  
“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.
You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 
“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 
“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 
How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 
“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 
“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 
He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 
He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 
Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 
Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 
“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 
“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 
“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 
He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 
You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 
You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 
But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 
He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 
“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 
He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 
“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 
“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 
“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 
He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 
He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 
He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 
“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 
“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 
Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 
“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “
“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 
You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 
“ well ain’t you a sight “
Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 
He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 
“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 
“ I ain’t like that “ 
“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 
He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 
“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.
“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 
“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 
“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 
His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 
“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 
But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 
“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 
“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 
“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 
“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 
“ no “ 
“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 
“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 
“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 
You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 
And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 
“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 
“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 
He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 
“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 
“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 
But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 
And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 
The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 
You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 
His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 
He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 
“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 
He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 
The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 
Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 
“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 
“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 
He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 
Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 
“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 
He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 
And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.
“ Arthur- “
Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 
He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 
He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 
“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 
Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 
“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 
“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.
He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 
But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 
“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “
“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 
You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 
He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 
“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 
“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 
“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 
He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 
“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 
“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 
“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 
He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 
“ god- oh god “ 
“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.
“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 
He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 
If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 
But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 
He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 
“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 
“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 
“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 
“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 
He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 
“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 
“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 
“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 
“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 
Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 
He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.
He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 
And then he came to his senses. 
“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 
“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 
“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 
“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 
After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 
He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 
“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 
“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 
“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 
He sincerely hoped you would. 
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735 notes · View notes
readychilledwine · 3 months
Text
Size Kink
✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️
A Size Kink is a general term for being aroused by being smaller/larger than your partner. It can be height, muscle mass/weight in general, cock size, ect. This is generally a kink we associate with subs having, but in my humble 5'1" experience, I've met more Doms with this kink than subs (hence my 5'11" baby daddy who thought he'd never have someone short enough to enjoy this kink with.) This kink has several subgroups that fall into it and sex acts that fall into it, but my personal favorite to write is height difference and body frame difference. So tall muscular male, short female (curvy or lean.)
What I love about size kinks is that it's so focused on specific aspects, and ANY body type gets to play with it. Little hands? Little legs? Luscious curves? Member of the Itty bitty titty committee? There is someone out there with a size Kink who is into your body and thinks you are a piece of artwork and sexiest thing on the planet. It's so beautiful because it is a body type kink that does not discriminate, and as a sex positive and body image positive person, I think that's super important and comforting for some people.
💕Peep the Valentines Day list here💕
As always NSFW below the cut
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Azriel x short!reader
Warnings - reader is VERY petite, smut, p in v, slow stretching
A/N - So, I actually have a request for a size Kink with Cassian sitting in my drafts as well from before I decided to do Valentines Day Bingo. Since I picture Cassian as an absolute unit, I used a more Megan thee Stallion vibe for that reader (tall and thick) so I decided to go very short and thinner built for this one to ensure they'd be different. I apologize if that bothers anyone. I will try to get that Cassian request finished asap to post it and make up for this 💙
Ps- with how quickly I am cranking some of these out, and how.... spicy some of them are getting, I don't have my normal outside editing all of the time. Baby daddy proof read this one. Before staring at me and going, "that wasn't fair." So, I apologize for any errors, as always, I will catch them on my fresh reread after it's posted 🫠
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Azriel was slowly losing his mind as he watched you use a chair to be closer to Cassian's height and argue with him face to face.
You were just so… small. So little compared to the two Illyrian males. They towered over you. They dwarfed you. Hell, he and Cass had discussed several times how easy you'd be to manhandle, considering they were both so sure their large hands could almost touch if they were wrapped around your waist.
At 6’8” and 7’ it wasn't hard for him and Cassian to own a room or be the tallest males, but Gods when Azriel stood next to your 5’ frame, when he saw Cassian pick you up like you were no more than a doll. It did something to him. It made him feel like a God, like he was powerful, possibly invincible.
He had been further spurred on by over hearing you and Nesta yesterday. She had asked you about how, if the opportunity presented itself, you would manage to fuck an Illyrian, and you, you with your never back down attitude had told Ness, “Mountains were made to be climbed.” He did not know if you had meant that in regards to him, but his hand found his cock quickly that night.
Azriel walked over to where you and Cassian argued over cereal. The fight wasn't serious, but he just needed to remind you that even with a chair below you, you still fell a few inches short.
“Get down before you fall and hurt yourself, angel.” He put a hand to you, offering to help you down. You glared, but put your hand in his.
Offering to help you was a mistake.
He felt the blood rushing to his cock as your little hand sat in his.
He shared a knowing look with Cassian when you looked away to step down and get back on the floor. The argument resumed instantly, your hand still in his.
It stopped as soon as Nesta walked in. Her mate and you going silent and agreeing to disagree.
Well, at least you thought you had agreed. Until Cassian turned around, Nesta in his arms waiting to fly into Velaris. He looked between you and Azriel before smirking. “You know, y/n, you might have shit taste in cereal, but at least you're the perfect height for some things.”
You didn't get it until you turned to Azriel, plush lips parted to ask what Cassian meant.
The blush that spread your cheeks was sinful.
Another image Azriel would save when he imagined it was your mouth around his cock tonight.
Azriel's room was across the hall from yours, so he knew you were being subjected to the same torture he was.
He was sure all of the Night Court could hear Cassian and Nesta. He rolled over to his back, throwing an arm over his face and sighing.
You were so small, so sneaky, he hadn't noticed you come in and shut the door until you were sitting on his bed.
And fuck being in his custom made oversized bed made you look so little. “Hello angel.”
He made room for you, welcoming you under the blanket you laid facing him, watching him. “Do you all never.. get worn out?” He chuckled. “Because humans do. Males typically finish, then they're like, done, and asleep.”
He looked towards you, laughing and smiling so hard his dimples were showing. “Is that your way of telling me you didn't enjoy rolling in the sheets while you were human?”
That blush spread your face again. “I had plenty of fun before Hybern did this to me. Thank you very much, sir.”
You had done it. Azriel shut his eyes, growling at the nickname as he did. “You cannot call me that when you're laying in my bed, y/n.”
You looked at him, snuggling closer to him. You knew what you were doing to him. You had known for a while. You always tracked his eyes when he'd watch you take your heels off, biting his lip thinking no one was looking. You noticed him hide his arousal behind a mask of indifference when you would climb things around the House of Wind. You had also noticed Azriel and Cassian taking every chance they could to lift you.
You had even know Azriel was so sneakily listening to you and Nesta the other day, and you had meant it. Azriel was a mountain you intended on climbing. “Of course, sir. Wouldn't want you to have to use those big hands to keep me quiet.”
The growl that echoed through the room had your thighs clenching. He was on you in an instant arm between your breasts, so it rested on your neck. The other hand sat on your hip, inching forward. “Do not tease me.” You could feel him pressed against your back, mind immediately lost in how that would fit.
You may have been biting off more than you could chew.
But fuck it.
You had never backed down from a challenge. Why start now?
You wiggled further into him, grazing his cock with each movement. “What if I'm not teasing? What if this is an offer, sir?”
“You're going to regret that, little one,” Azriel's hand immediately was in your shorts, his other hand squeezing your throat. A thick finger ran your soaked core, pulling a moan from you. “Going to have to go slow,” Azriel ground his hips into you, needing that friction on his aching cock. “Don't want to hurt you, angel.”
That one finger entered you without warning. It was already a stretch, but one you welcomed.
You loved how everything about Azriel was so big. His hands, his muscled chest and arms, his wings. Of course he'd be big there too. Anticipation began to replace the fear. You relaxed into him, tilting your head and pulling him into a heated sloppy kiss.
Azriel swallowed your moans and cries as his finger opened you up for him. You were tight, so damn tight. His hand moved from your throat to your breasts, loving how they weren't even a handful for him. You were so petite and slim, he reminded himself. He pulled your tank top off, maneuvering the best he could to get you fully below him. He pushed in a second finger, watching as you squirmed so helplessly below him. “So fucking little,” he moaned. “Mother above you're perfect. Just perfect.”
He leaned back, fingers increasing speed the best they could with your shorts in the way while he toyed with your breasts, pinching your nipples and smacking the tender flesh as he saw fit. “Cum for me so I can sit you on my cock, angel. You can do it, y/n. Show me how tight you'll be squeezing around me.”
You felt like you were floating as you came, whimpering Azriel's name as you watched him rut against the mattress for some friction, hazel eyes damn near lost in lust.
He pulled his fingers out of you, wasting no time ripping his sweatpants off and using those juices to coat himself. Your shorts came next, torn to shreds as he pulled you to the edge of the mattress and rested one leg on both sides of his chest.
He was as perfect as you imagined. His cock was long and thick. He was running it along your folds, soaking up at the slick he could before smacking the head of it against your clit.
Azriel could help but to stand with his hips flush against yours, admiring how it looked like his cock would be damn near in your stomach. “Gonna go slow,” he mumbled as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Can't risk hurting my little angel.”
He pushed the head in, keeping an eye on you as you moaned out a long fuck before relaxing into his bed. He sat there, only a few inches inside of you, feeling as your walls stretched out to accommodate him.
He pulled out and slowly reentered, pushing a little more inside of you. Your back arched off the bed, a whimper of pleasure ripping through your throat. The burn of it felt so good. You felt yourself drooling already, mind numb, and lost to anything that wasn't Azriel.
He continued his motions over and over until he was flush against your hips, and you were screaming for him. You had cum just from him slowly getting inside of you, and now he could see the bulge he had created, the slight swelling inside of you as your body made room for him.
Azriel put a hand on the bulge, feeling himself inside of you as he began thrusting. You were squeezing him so tight, hand struggling to find him to hold on to something.
He felt himself losing control, pace growing faster and faster as he watched you squirming and moaning below him. His arms went behind your hips and back, lifting you off the bed and manhandling you in the air for a little while. He brought you to his chest, moving you to be against the wall that shared his room and Cassian's.
A silent brag, and message, that he could now accurrately inform Cassian how easy you were to toss around like a doll.
Your hands found purchase on his shoulders as you became a babbling mess. Your silky core was twitching and tightening around him all over again, indicating to him how close you were, how ready you were. “Az,” you panted. “So fucking big.”
“Yeah,” he kissed the top of your head. “Bet it feels so good stretching you out, doesn't it, baby?” You couldn't respond as a certain angle had you becoming pliant in his arms. “Fuck I know it does.” He was practically lifting you on and off of him, watching as you stretched around his cock. “You're close, aren't you, angel?”
You nodded, eyes glazed over and jaw fallen open to the perfect o. “Gonna cum.”
“Then cum. Squeeze my cock. You wanted to climb the mountain, right y/n? Fucking climb.”
You hit that peak on his command again, clinging to him tightly as he continued using you and stretching you out.
It took Azriel a few more moments, but he stilled inside of you, head thrown back in a loud growl as he came inside of you. He pressed you back against the wall, panting slightly as he stared into your eyes. He lifted you easily, allowing his cock to fall out of you and you to whine at the sudden emptiness that took place where he had filled you.
“This can't be a one-time thing,” his voice was almost desperate as he moved to set you on the desk, forehead finding yours. “I need more of you. All of you.”
You couldn't help but to bit your lip, nodding so quickly with a growing smile. “I like how little you make me feel. How safe you make me feel.”
Azriel's eyes almost rolled back completely as they shut. “Gods you are perfect.” He leaned in to kiss you, only to be interrupted by his door slamming open and Cassian and Nesta barging in.
A massive wing snapped between you and them, blocking your body from their view.
Cassian cleared his throat before speaking. “We want to know how exactly that worked. Show us. Please.”
“Show you?!” Your voice cracked as you turned to a smirking Azriel.
Azriel kissed your forehead. “Bend over the desk, angel. Gotta give him a show since he asked so nicely.”
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General tag list:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho
@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth
Valentines Day Taglist:
@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb  
@justasillylittlegoofyguy
Azriel Taglist:
@elle4404
742 notes · View notes
bingoboingobongo · 1 year
Text
in his eyes
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Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley (Call of Duty) x Reader
Type: Fluff
Summary: Gaz swears that there’s something going on between you and Ghost. Soap refuses to believe it until he sees it for himself.
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: explicit language, slight Gaz x Reader, i wrote the first draft w/o my glasses in the dark while listening to airplane sounds so forgive any typos
A/N: nothing is more humbling than hungrily fishing for pickles with chopsticks. also yes i wrote this instead of part three of awuass. anyways, likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated, enjoyyy :)
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“Soap! Wait up, man,” Soap heard from behind him. He stopped walking and turned to see Gaz chasing behind him.
“You need something, mate?” Soap asked, confused. It wasn’t that he and Gaz weren’t close or anything — they were — but he had never seen Gaz so desperate to talk to him. He waited for Gaz to arrive, shooting him a concerned look when he had to stop and catch his breath, which Gaz just waved off. “Where were you coming from that’s got you all out of breath like this?” he asked.
“The training room,” Gaz said, taking another deep breath. “I sprinted here just to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?” Soap was confused, he couldn’t think of a situation that was urgent enough for Gaz to come chasing after him, but not urgent enough for Price or one of the higher-ups to find him.
“You know Stick?” Gaz asked, one of his eyebrows cocked upwards. Soap was even more confused, of course he knew. You were Stick. You had gotten the nickname after you kept asking the guys to look for chapstick while they were on missions. Apparently you had lost the one you packed when you first arrived on base, and since then you had always been on the lookout for it. Soap had been the first one to call you it, although he called you Chapstick at first. Somewhere down the line though, it had been shortened to Stick and no one really questioned it.
“Yeah, what about her?” Soap asked.
“I just saw her and the lieutenant down at the training room, they were sparring together.”
“You mean Ghost?
Gaz nodded, which only left Soap more confused. Perhaps it was a little odd for you to be sparring with the lieutenant, given the general height and size disparity, but it wasn’t completely out of the question, and certainly not important enough to warrant such an extreme reaction from Gaz.
“Is that it? They were training together?”
“Of course not,” Gaz said, as if it were obvious, “I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between them. He was acting so weird around her, I’m telling you.”
Soap’s interest was piqued. “You mean you think they’re hooking up?”
“I don’t know about hooking up but there’s definitely something there, you can tell just looking at them.”
Soap hummed. You and Ghost, huh? On the surface, it wasn’t an absurd conclusion for Gaz to come to, the two of you did hang out together a lot, which held a lot of weight considering the kind of man Ghost was. But thinking about Ghost blushing over some school-boy crush on a girl just seemed insane. He was a 6’4 killing machine with more deaths under his belt than Soap could count; Soap just couldn’t see it.
“You’re reading into things, pal,” he said, punching Gaz lightly on the shoulder, “you really think Ghost’s got a crush on Stick?”
Gaz rolled his eyes, “I’m telling you man, there’s something there, for real. He was like a whole different person today while they were sparring. I swear to God he looked at her like she was the bloody Queen of England.”
“You think Ghost’s in love with the Queen of England?” Soap asked, smirking.
“Oh, fuck off,” Gaz said, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. There’s something there, I’m pretty sure I saw him smile at her for a moment.”
“He took off his mask?” Soap asked, surprised.
“Of course not, you idiot.”
“Then how could you see if he smiled, genius?”
“I saw his mask shift.”
“You saw his mask— Are you messing with me?”
“Oh fuck you, Soap. You know what I mean. It was in his eyes too, like, he looked at her like he was in love.”
Soap snorted, that idea was even more insane than Ghost blushing. “Alright, good one, Gaz. You got me.”
Gaz sighed, “I’m serious mate, I swear. Tonight, at dinner, I’ll show you. Just watch him, see how he looks at her, there’s no way he doesn’t like her.”
Soap rolled his eyes and began to walk away, “Whatever you say, Gaz,” he said nonchalantly. But despite his incredulous behavior, he couldn’t help but wonder if Gaz had a point. He did see Ghost hanging around you a lot, but he had assumed it was just coincidence until now. That being said, coincidences didn’t just happen over and over and over again.
That night, he decided to take Gaz up on his offer. He went to stop by his room before dinner, but before he could say anything Gaz shushed him. 
“Get in, quick. Ghost’s gonna be coming down the hallway any second now,” Gaz explained in a whisper as he tugged Soap into his room.
“You're stalking the lieutenant now, Gaz?” Soap asked.
“Oh piss off,” he said, “he always stops by her room around seven, and then they walk to dinner together. It’s been happening for about a week now.”
“So why’re you only telling me now?”
“Because I figured he was just reminding her of dinner or something. But after today,” he clicked his tongue, “no, there’s definitely something more there.”
Soap watched as Gaz creaked open the door ever so slightly, positioning himself so that he could just barely see out of it. Low and behold, Gaz was right. He heard Ghost walking down the hall before he saw him, but then he was there, just a few feet diagonal from them, knocking at your door.
He watched as you opened it, and said something he couldn’t hear, before closing it again. Ghost stayed outside of your door, leaning his weight against it as he stared down the hallway.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Soap asked. 
Gaz didn't answer, instead choosing to motion wildly at Soap as a signal for him to be quiet.
A few more minutes passed before you opened the door again. You looked surprised to see him there, but your surprise quickly morphed into a smile and the two of you left Soap’s line of sight. Gaz kept watching for a while longer, before shutting the door.
“See that?” Gaz asked.
“Did you hear what they said?” Soap repeated.
“He said something about dinner, and then she said she had to finish something up. I think it was a TV show or something. And then when she opened up the door she asked what he was doing there and that he didn’t need to wait for her.”
“Did he say anything in response?”
Gaz sighed, “I don’t know. I swear I heard him say he was happy to or something along those lines, but his voice is so damn low and his accent doesn’t help.”
Soap nodded slowly, “So he’s been doing this every day for a week now?”
Gaz nodded, “Usually he doesn’t have to wait for her though. They just go straight to dinner.”
Soap paused, staring at the ground for a moment, “Should we follow them? See if we can catch them doing something else?”
Gaz stared at him for a moment, his face thoughtful. “I’ll do you one better, Soap. How about you go up there and pretend to hit on her, eh? And then see how Ghost looks, I swear he’ll probably beat you up.”
“Why do I have to do it?” Soap asked.
“Because I’m not trying to get on Ghost’s bad side.”
“Well, neither am I,” Soap cried.
Gaz sighed, “Fine, I’ll do it. But you owe me for this. And you have to watch Ghost’s face. I’m not about to put my life in danger for nothing.”
Soap nodded, and the two of them made their way out into the hallway. You and Ghost had already exited, but it wasn’t hard to catch up. Gaz motioned for Soap to be quiet, and he watched as Gaz crept up behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump up in surprise.
He watched Ghost turn and glare at Gaz, and he could swear he could feel Ghost’s glower from a mile away. Soap ran to catch up to the three of you, just in time to hear you jokingly berate Gaz for scaring you.
“I swear to god, Kyle, if you didn’t have such a pretty face I would slap you right now,” you said, jokingly raising your fist at him. Soap immediately turned to look at Ghost, who’s eyes looked like they could probably kill. Soap took the chance to run ahead of you three, facing you guys as you walked down the hall together.
“Woah there, Stick,” Soap said, placing his hands out in front of him in fake concern, “we can’t have you threatening Gaz here, can we? I’d have to snitch on you to Price for that.”
“Oh screw you, Soap,” you said, laughing. Soap didn’t miss the way Gaz had managed to wedge himself in between you and Ghost, and he also didn’t miss the murderous glare Ghost was shooting towards Gaz.
“You guys going to dinner?” Soap asked, eyeing Gaz warily as he not-so-subtly put an arm around your shoulder.
“What is this? What are you doing, Gaz?” you snorted, holding up the hand that was wrapped around your shoulder.
Gaz opened his mouth to answer, but Ghost beat him to the chase. “She’s right, sergeant,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Get your hands off her, just because we’re off duty doesn’t mean you can just forget about the rules.”
Gaz clicked his tongue and nodded, slowly snaking his hand off of you. Soap didn’t miss the told-you-so look Gaz shot him as they made eye contact. 
You laughed again, “It’s alright, Ghost, he was just playing around. It's all in good fun, right Gaz?”
“You know it, Stick.”
Ghost’s eyes flickered between you and Gaz. Gaz had been right, Ghost was different when you were involved. Before, reading Ghost had been harder than reading a text in a different language, but now he was an open book. Soap could see every emotion behind Ghost’s eyes, anger, annoyance, betrayal?
“Besides,” you said, looking at Ghost, “you’re still my favorite.”
And there it was. The ‘something’ Gaz wouldn’t stop talking about. Love, with an undertone of adoration and maybe a hint of disbelief. Soap was shocked. There really was something between you and the lieutenant.
“Alright, you lovebirds,” Soap said, curious to see how Ghost would respond. He acted how he thought he would, his eyes snapping off of you and onto Soap, and maybe, just maybe Soap could see the slightest hint of blush on the edge of his exposed skin at being caught. “Are you guys going to dinner or not?”
You turned to look at him, a bright smile on your face as you nodded. “You?”
“Of course,” Soap said, “you guys sitting with us still?”
He watched as you turned to look at Ghost, who also turned to look at you. Somehow, the two of you managed to exchange some sort of silent conversation, because when you looked back you gave him a sheepish smile and said, “We’ll see.”
Soap watched you carefully, “Right then," he said, “come on Gaz, let’s go while the food’s still warm.”
He pulled Gaz out from between the two of you and the pair headed towards the dining hall, moving as fast as possible to try and get far enough away that they could talk about what had just happened.
“God, I guess you were right, Gaz,” Soap said, as they entered the hall.
Gaz clicked his tongue, “I told you so. I guess all it took was me risking my life to convince you.”
Soap chuckled, “You were gutsy back there, you know? God, if you saw the way he was looking at you? You better be glad he wasn’t armed or he probably would’ve shot you right then and there.”
Gaz snorted, “Oh I saw how he was looking at me, scared the shit out of me too. You know, they should give me a medal for that level of bravery.”
“I'll say.”
He followed Gaz as they went to go get a plate of food, before finding a table near the center of the room to sit down at. “You think they’ll come eat with us?” Gaz asked.
“Why wouldn’t they? They always eat with us,” Soap said.
Gaz hummed, “Could you see how stiff he got when I was standing in between them?” 
Soap laughed again, “Of course, I did. And when he yelled at you for putting your arm around her?”
Gaz snorted, picking at the food on his plate, “Oh god, you don’t know how fast my heart was racing when I did that. I was preparing my last will and testament and everything.”
Soap doubled over in laughter, but stopped quickly when Gaz tapped his shoulder repeatedly and hurriedly whispered for him to be quiet. He looked up, his eyes swiveling around before they landed on you and Ghost. He watched as you made eye contact with him; he let out a wave which you returned before moving towards the food. As always, Ghost was right behind you, but Soap could’ve sworn he was following a little more closely than usual.
“Is it just me or is he standing really close to her?” he asked Gaz, lowering his voice so they couldn’t be heard over the dining hall chatter.
Gaz shook his head as he pretended to toy with his food, “No, he’s definitely closer. Look at them, they’re practically touching hips.”
Soap watched out of the corner of his eye as you two finished getting your food. He saw you look over at Ghost and then nod your head in their direction, before you rolled your eyes with a smirk and went to follow Ghost to a small table in the opposite corner of the room.
“Did you see that?” Soap asked Gaz, his eyes flicking between him and you.
“I did, now stop staring before you get us all in trouble,” Gaz said, keeping his eyes focused on his plate. 
“Why do you think they’re sitting alone?” Soap asked.
“Why do you think? Ghost probably thinks I actually fancy Stick and now he’s trying to keep her away so she’ll pick him.”
Soap hummed thoughtfully, “I think you’ve actually got a point there, Gaz.”
“Damn right I do.”
“Do you actually though?” Soap asked.
“Do I what? Have a point?”
“No, do you actually fancy Stick?”
Gaz stopped to think as he took a bite of his food, “I mean,” he said, swallowing. “She’s pretty, don’t get me wrong, and I’d probably try and at least ask her out under different circumstances—”
“But?”
“But if there's something going on between her and L.T. I’m not going to be the idiot that tries to get between them.”
“Really?” Soap asked, “what if there’s nothing actually between them?”
Gaz snorted, “Are you serious mate? After all this? I risked my life just to prove it to you and you’re still doubting me?” He shook his head. “There’s definitely something going on between them, get your head out of your ass. And — and maybe this is a controversial opinion — but I would like to return to my family when this is all done. I don’t have a death wish.”
Soap chuckled, tilting his head in agreement.
“Besides,” he said, gesturing for Soap to look at them again. He did, and through the mess of heads he could see Ghost cut off a piece of his food and feed it to you, a strangely domestic scene that went against everything he thought he knew about the cold lieutenant. “They’re kind of made for each other, eh?”
“Who’s made for each other?” asked Price, sitting down next to them with a groan.
“Sir,” Gaz said, stiffening, “didn’t realize you were listening.”
“It’s my job to listen, Garrick. Now answer the question.”
Gaz sighed, nodding his head towards your direction.
Price let out a sigh. “So you guys finally caught on, eh?”
“You knew about this?” Soap asked, turning to face Price.
“It’s not hard to notice.”
“Are they…” Soap paused, nodding his head suggestively.
“What? Dating?” Price asked.
“Sure.”
“Now that, I don’t know. I don’t think so though.”
“Do you think she likes him?” Gaz asked.
Price clicked his tongue, “Most likely.”
“Do you think he likes her?” Gaz asked.
“Most definitely,” Price said, snorting.
“Do you think he knows she likes him?” Soap asked.
Price chuckled, “MacTavish, I don’t think he even knows that he likes her.”
That comment earned a round of laughs from the three of them. But despite Price changing the topic, Soap couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you and Ghost. It was such a strange scene to see, you and him tucked away in a private table in your own little corner. He watched the way your eyes crinkled with laughter as you spoke; the way Ghost would interrupt you every so often with a piece of neatly cut food on his fork for you to eat it.
He could practically see the adoration oozing out of Ghost every time you rolled your eyes and took a bite; the way you practically stared at him with hearts in your eyes whenever he would ever so slightly lift his mask to take a bite of food. And for a moment, just for a moment, he swore he saw the corner of Ghost’s mouth twitch into a smile at something you said before he lowered his mask again. But even with his mouth covered, Soap realized Gaz had been right once more. Soap could see the smile in Ghost’s eyes. Soap could see everything in Ghost’s eyes, every single drop of love and reverence and adoration he had for you.
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bisexualiteaa · 5 days
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fem reader x ghoul where he’s talking about how small she is?
Fun Size
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Cooper Howard x Smaller Fem Reader (SMUT!!)
CW: NSFW MDNI!! Size kink, p in v, unprotected sex, p0rn w/o plot, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, cursing, body worship, establish relationship.
AN: Hey anon! I couldn’t figure out any other way to write this than as a smut so I hope that’s alright! I hope I could do your ask justice and that you and all my other lovely readers will enjoy!
Synopsis: Cooper loved that you were smaller than him, whether it was height, stature, weight it didn’t matter, he loved it about you. He wanted to make sure you knew just how much he loves his fun size. ❤️
This one is slightly shorter than my other works but I hope it is just as enjoyable! I’m actually a smaller framed person so writing this comes from a slightly personal place, I hope it can still be enjoyable to those of all body types. Our cowboy doesn’t discriminate and neither do I, know that you are all loved! ❤️
When he called you his lil’ lady, he called you it for a lot of different reasons. One; he was southern at heart, so a few terms of endearment were standard practice for him. Two; was because you were little compared to him, and he absolutely adored that. When he stood near you, he nearly towered over you, and his stature was quite broad compared to you. He could lift more than you, drink more than you, but what you lacked in size, you more than made up for in attitude. He had never seen someone have so much fight and so much poison in their sweet voice. He knew it’s what you had to do, in a dog eat dog world like this, you really had no other options. As much as you may have held a dislike for your smaller stature, he always wanted to assure you that he enjoyed it, and it was in these more intimate moments like this one that he really enjoyed that size difference.
His larger hand came over yours as he took you from behind, his fingers intertwined with yours as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck. He placed kisses against the sensitive spots along your skin, enjoying the moans leaving your lips as his hips slapped against your ass. “Cooper…” you moaned sweetly, your head raising a little as your mouth fell open, his cock brushing your g-spot with each drag outwards and nudged the apex of your cervix with each thrust inwards. “Love this cute lil’ waist of yours” he said, his free hand traveling along your frame, grabbing at anything he could get his hands on. “These hands, look damn good holdin’ a gun in ‘em” he added, worshipping your body as it trembled beneath him, your whimpers and moans sounding like music to his ruined ears. “Everythin’ about you is perfect, darlin’” he finished, and you’d never felt so loved. You never really put much thought into your size before, knowing you were small put you at a slight disadvantage out in the wastelands because most people would take one look and consider you weak, but Cooper knew that was far from the truth. You were one hell of a woman, with firepower and attitude to put someone even taller than him to shame. You were stronger than most ever gave you credit for, and that was almost like a secret power for you. “In another life, I’d have put a baby in this lil’ tummy of yours. Watch you walk around all swollen where you gotta waddle” he said, groaning at the thought of having a child with you, he so dearly missed his baby girl from his past marriage but that was a thought for another time. He felt your walls squeeze around him at the thought, making him chuckle. “Ya like that thought, dontchya, sugar? Felt that pretty pussy tighten around me, you like the thought of me breedin’ you, sweetheart?” He asked with a perverted grin, making you whimper as your face and body fell hot. You’d be a liar if you said the dream hadn’t crossed your mind before but it was one you knew was impossible to think about, especially with how the world was now. You felt his fingers run down to rub tight circles against your clit, making your back arch and your head roll back against his shoulder. “That’s it, arch that back. Cum for me sweetheart, I gotchya” he coaxed, and it wasn’t long before you fell over the edge, the cry of his name leaving your lips like a prayer.
You gasped for air as you panted beneath him, your smaller frame trembling beneath him once more as the feeling rushed over you in pleasurable waves. You whined, feeling him quickly pull out and finish over your back, needing to conserve your resources of RadAway for just a little bit longer before using it again. As you collapsed on the bed, waiting for him to return with a damp rag to clean you, you had a great idea on how to really play with his liking of the size difference. You smirked to yourself as you watched him dispose of the rag after cleaning you up then himself, sneaking his shirt from off the floor and putting it over your tiny frame. His shirt pooled over you like a night dress, all baggy around the middle, sleeves coming over your hands as they almost seemed to disappear beneath the pool of fabric. The bottom of the shirt came to rest just around your mid-thighs, it was perfect. He looked up, giving a mix between a chuckle and a groan at the sight, feeling his dick twitch in his briefs as you stood before him in nothing more than his beaten up, bloodstained shirt. “Careful sugar, don’t start somethin’ you ain’t able to finish” he warned, seeing the mischievous glint in your eyes and grin stretched to your lips. “Not sure I catch your meanin’ there, honey” you replied teasingly as he scooped you up with ease, soon plopping you back down on the bed with him as he all but pounced on you, making you yelp playfully before giggling as he buried his face into your neck. “Ya look damn good in my clothes” he said, making you smile. “It’s a sight you can have every day if ya’d like t’ keep me ‘round” you responded, knowing exactly what his answer would be to that. “Think I’d ever get rid a you? You’re all mine, fun size” he said, making you giggle at the bad pun-based nickname he called you. “Wouldn’t want it any other way” you replied, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his bald head before falling peacefully asleep.
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yukuoo · 1 month
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I WAS ABSOLUTELY ENAMOURED BY THE PIECE YOU DID FOR SEONGJI?? OMG IT WAS SO GOOD and its criminal how thats the only fic of him i could find, if i may can i request a really fluffy piece where reader is a huge tease and Seongji just tries to desperately hide how shy he is? (if possible, can reader wear glasses and be around his height? it'd be funny seeing him steal them just to irritate reader lol just to get smacked)
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This is actually so funny cause I have glasses myself and to imagine Seongji acting slightly like a goofball makes it better. Also I have zero clue what the word count it but this is somewhat long.
Seongji Yuk x gn!reader
Warnings— flirting, tooth rotting fluff
𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆
Seongji would have thought that he would've been alone his whole life. After escaping the Shamans grasp, he full heartedly accepted the quiet and loneliness that whatever gods above have given him for the rest of his life.
Though of course, just like in the fairytales, someone always disrupted the gods deeds.
"I swear you have some of the most prettiest hands I have ever seen. I'm being serious." Seongji would have had never thought that someone— anyone actually, would compliment his condition. Having been cursed with an extra finger in each hand and foot, he was considered an anomaly to human society.
Yet everytime you were near him, you thought so different. You complimented and praised him for surviving up until now and how his hands made him unique.
Though it always came with a side effect..
"..."
"You look like a cat when you shy away it's adorable! Who knew a big guy like you could be so timid?"
You always teased him unfortunately.
He probably should have had been used to it by now, Seongji has known you for... Actually who knows how long. But it's definitely been long enough. Long enough to get used to your teasings and small pranks.
Was that going to happen though?
Probably not.
"I'm trying to cook. Shut up." He refused to make eye contact with you. Only focusing on what he had on his cooking pot while trying not to mess up.
"You can cook just fine, can't you?" Was all he heard from you, he didn't think much of it until you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. His body tensed up completely, almost dropping the cooking utensil onto the food. Curse him for dropping his guard for practically zero around you.
"Keep cooking." Your hot breath brushed against his ear, along with your glasses lightly moving his hair. His hand began to shake, Seongji knew how to survive— but absolutely did not know how to survive this nor was he prepared ever in his life.
The his ears began to turn into a light red tint, his heart thumping at an abnormal rate. Was this normal? Surely it was.
"Your hands are pretty. But your gorgeous, you know that right?" You gently rubbed your cheek against his like a cat, your words slurred slightly— hinting that you were either getting sleepy or just extremely comfortable with him.
Seongji wanted to shrug you off, wanting to tell you how stupid and corny you sounded but he didn't have the heart to tell you. He sighed and lifted one of his hands, trying oh so hard to sustain the blush on his face to only fail miserably, he gently pushed your face away from his which took you by surprise.
"Go away, you have better things to do." He muttered, still refusing as much as to even glance your way and focusing on his cooking just as you had told him to a few minutes ago.
You dramatically groaned, leaning your weight onto his figure which didn't even make him budge despite being the same height. "Noo..."
"Stop being a baby and go."
"Nooooooo"
He called your name sternly, making you let go of him and huff out small incoherent grumbles. "Man... You're just a hater.." Of course, you didn't actually mean them and he knew it.
Hearing you retreat, he had let go of the breath he had been holding for who knows how long.
You stared at the group of kids not too far away, a small smile on your lips. It had been so peaceful recently— except for Vin Jin being there and erupt chaos to disrupt the peace because that kid was filled with energy.
Yet even with his chaotic energy, you called it peaceful. They were all carefree and didn't have to worry about the shaman or the other citizens of the town here up in the mountain with you and Seongji. Like all of you were a big and happy family.
It felt warm.
You didn't notice it cause you were too busy staring at the group, that someone had begun to creep up behind you. In a blink of an eye, everything was blurry for you. Your lips parted slightly while blinking more before putting a hand up to adjust your glasses.
They weren't there any more.
"Wow, you're pretty blind." Spoke a voice next to you. You turned your head and saw Seongji trying to look around with them before looking at you with that same stoic expression.
He didn't even react to stealing your glasses, he still had the same expression as always without an inch of his facial features twitching even the slightest.
"Hey." His voice snapped you out of your daze, only to make you deadpan. How and why was he still good looking? Even with the glasses that might as well be a bonus.
"What?"
After what seemed for a little too long, the man slowly raised up his hand.
"How many fingers am I holding?"
"..."
"Woah.."
"Hey... Aren't those.."
"Why the fuck are they running."
The group of teenagers began to huddle slightly as they witnessed a scene of you chasing Seongji to God knows where while he's wearing your glasses.
Mary couldn't help but to laugh a bit, Vin Jin and the boys were just hyping up Seongji but knew you would still catch up to him.
In the end, you managed to grab a hold on the jacket around Seongjis waist to which the boys had to pay Mary for losing the bet.
You took your glasses back and smacked the back of Seongjis head. Then pinched his cheeks with an irk mark on your forehead.
"You think you're sooooo funny don'cha?" You continued to pull his cheeks more, an irritated smile on your lips while your eye twitched.
Seongji didn't react much, he winced slightly at first but it didn't really hurt.
Oh well, at least he was able to look at you now.
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littledead-ridinghood · 10 months
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sorry if this is a weird question to drop on you you were just the first person I thought of who might know but do you know if it's canon/canonically-based evidence that jason is physically stronger than other bats because I always see people say jason is the one with "brute strength" and I can't remember if that's based on anything besides people saying that as a nicer way to call him a brute(maybe it was on lobdells stuff? but I wiped most of those out of my memory)
You thought of me first? <333333 I'm blushing. And it's not weird at all! Even if it was, I love answering weird shit.
Anyway:
So part of Jason being considered "the muscle" of the bats comes from the fact that Jason's currently the biggest of the robins. (Adult!Damian is usually drawn as the tallest of the kids when all is said n' done (that's vague for "age")).
Well, how big then?
I always go with this chart which was released while UtRH was being released:
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(I Love this! I wish DC still did little info things like this within their comics. Or maybe they do and I'm just blind. But Look! Canonical Information!)
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So canonically speaking, at least when running around pre-crisis, Jason is 6 feet tall and 180 pounds. (Also note criminal mastermind and put a pin in it)
But you've probably heard 200 & 220 thrown around a lot. Those numbers are specifically pulled from two different DC character encyclopedia books which I don't trust at all because there notoriously filled with false information and are dubbed as not canon all the time.
Personally, I use the 6', 180-195 pound range which estimates for fluctuating weight, the passage of time, muscle mass, and minimum bulk & cutting (which I assume is part of most superheroes' training to stay in fighting form, but please recognize that vigilantes are more athlete than bodybuilder) because it's from a canon source (Canon is "king" and all that). No shame to people who use the other numbers or even headcanon something completely different, but again, vigilantes are predominantly running all over cities day after day, not stagnant weight lifters. Cardio vs weights body compositions are quite different even if both are healthy. (And it's not all "swimmer's body illusion" either (they have that body because they swim? No, they swim because they have that body.)
How much muscle mass a person can maximally obtain is up to your genetics. But that max only comes with constant maintainment. It's not feasible for Jason to be doing all that cardio and also have that much muscle mass and fat. Cardio burns "fat" (calories), weights build muscle. We constantly see the former and former-adjacent workouts more than the latter with him. Jason is running across rooftops, flipping off them before falling into a shoulder roll onto the next roof over chasing after bad guys every night. The number of calories he'd have to eat and time put into lifting weights (too many reps a week lead to damage, not growth) to maintain his max (max being what a lot of weights category athletes try to achieve which Jason just hasn't been shown to be (except in his jailbird phase where he could literally only lift weights, read, and avoid being killed to pass the time)) isn't possible.
Using comic art to "prove" how much he weighs doesn't work either. Firstly, because everyone wears weight differently. Two people can be the same height, weight, and sex and look completely different. This is due to different body types, composition, genetics, diet, (what kind of) exercise, and many other factors. Assuming someone thinner is automatically "super light" doesn't factor in different body compositions (fat, muscle, bone percentages). (yes, I know it's stupid to apply science to comics. There's my digression. let me live). Secondly, Jason (just like everything else about him) isn't drawn consistently at all. Sometimes he's pretty damn massive, but we also have Twink and Twunk Jason (DC can't even decide on hair color? Do you think they're gonna decide on his body?).
So, comic book art isn't super reliable as evidence unless we want to theorize if, how, and why he seems to fluctuate between weights all the time (<- Which I have a whole headcanon about if anyone's curious), especially in comparison to the others because, seriously, it's totally a Jason thing. Most characters are pretty consistent in body type. Anyway, someone could argue "See! he is 210!" but it's also not for a long enough period to stick around :/ Again, hard to consistently maintain that much weight as a 6-foot-tall, cardio-based athlete.
Also note: DC is horrible when it comes to weight-to-height lineups. A woman hero can be ~5'7'' and then we're told she's 110 lbs which Fact 1. is considered underweight for this kind of height-to-sex ratio, Fact 2. probably isn't factoring in the fact that muscle is heavier than fat, she just "looks thin", and 3. Usually, totally, absolutely is just blatant sexism.
Really, the numbers don't seriously mean anything of actual substance because their comics, are unreliable, and also usually just...scientifically wrong. But Jason's perception on page, as well as the information we've been told, is one reason he's considered "brute strength first and foremost."
Furthermore, Jason has been shown repeatedly to be on par with Bruce (even when Jason, most of the time, plays defense in their physical fights) but many people chalk this up to him and Bruce having similar physiques making it "easier". Again, counter-productive argument because Bruce and Jason have been drawn very similarly before in stories as well as completely different from each other in others. Also, this purposefully, blatantly ignores Jason's actual skills. No one chalks Dick Grayson or Cassandra Cain beating Bruce up to their body types. Moreover, when Bruce and Jason are drawn similarly in body, no one refers to Bruce as "Brute Strength" either. Bruce gets to be tactical, strategic, clever. (Also Also: In Pre-Crisis, Bruce, Dick, and Jason are deliberately drawn to look similar (height, mass, looks, etc.) to get that Brothers in Blood effect. Still, No one chalks the formers up to all strength. Just Jason)
And that brings us to your question, Anon: Is there canonical evidence for Jason being stronger than the other Bats?
Remember how I told you to put a pin in that "Occupation: Criminal Mastermind" note? Well, first off, Jason creating jobs for his community. Go off, king. Second off, and more importantly so, "Mastermind": a person who supplies the directing or creative intelligence for a project (Merriam-Webster).
When Jason was first re-introduced, what made Jason dangerous was that he was highly skilled and smart. He was playing with both Black Mask and Batman like a cat batting a toy mouse. He orchestrated an entire "slow-growing" takeover of Gotham's underworld (he was actually very quick about it). Jason controlled the situation and planned so well that he had the villains and heroes who were both after him fighting each other so he could slip away and do what he actually needed to do.
Throughout Jason's history, he's always had tools with him when he fights. To the point that Bruce says to Jaybin "You won't always have this" cutting his utility belt, insinuating he relies too much on it, which Jason returns the favor to on his return and fights B hand to hand <3 Love a cocky callback. Furthering this, he knows many, many different fighting styles and techniques both from life experience and from extensive training. Jason's a quick learner by nature and is incredibly adaptive. Guns; knives; swords; pens; sets bombs to specifically implode, not explode; makeshift gadgets; a baseball bat just laying around; a tire jack that one time; brains. I could go on. Jason doesn't just hit things. He uses what he has as a means to an end. He's canonically known as one of the best strategists in-universe and is incredibly creative with his surroundings. Jason isn't just great at extensive, long-term planning either. Bruce himself has remarked on the fact that Jason thinks incredibly quickly on his feet, he's really good at improvisation. Concisely, he has plans A-G and if all those fail, he can pull something out of nothing. Contrast this with Bruce who needs to have a plan for everything. Even if it doesn't look like he's following a plan, Bruce is. Opposed to Jason who can go with the flow and figure it out along the way.
Jason even said this in present-era in TFZ:
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And that's the whole point, isn't it? Jason is strong. Incredibly so. He's big and tall and has gorgeous thighs. Not to mention, has a mean right hook. But just because Jason's strong doesn't mean he isn't a bat first and foremost who relies on his brain before anything else. He died 4'6 (on his death certificate, his height varies depending on what source you pull) and famously had to defend himself his entire life ever before being Robin. Being young and small and forced to survive shaped Jason into a quick thinker who could either get away or take enemies 10x his size down. Nowadays, he just has a longer reach.
In Event Levithan when Damian says: "Jason Todd is one of the Great Master fighters of all time" He doesn't say strongest because Damian doesn't mean strongest. Damian means adaptable, smart, capable, and well-rounded in skill.
While I don't doubt that Jason is most definitely one of the strongest Bats due to his size, what makes Jason dangerous is not his body, but the fact that he knows how to use it. It's not "Brute Strength" as many people like to say, it's Strategic Strength. He knows just because he's stronger than someone doesn't mean he'll always win. A la see panels above. Jason knows throwing his body around won't do anything of real, long-term substance. That it's just blindsided and stupid.
I'm sure if I looked I could pull panels where other bats and/or vigilantes refer to Jason as the muscle, brute (strength), all brawn (no brain), other such implications, etc, but whenever people do, it's always to undermine Jason's skill. Because it's not actually about his strength. Jason, with his taller, more built form, makes walking quiet seem easy. And it looks easy because he's good. Jason himself knows his skill set, it's everyone else that undermines him time and time and time again. (Again, Event Levithan, Bruce doesn't agree with Damian's statement even though Jason just outsmarted the six or so people who all just tried to take him down (for something Jason didn't even do, mind you))
But, again from Damian, Jason's not known as "the muscle," he's "the emotional one" also usually used to...degrade Ja--We can't have anything nice apparently is what I'm saying. But yes, when people refer to Jason as "Brute Strength" it's usually them trying to find a nicer way of saying Brute or "thinks with his fists" or "Jason hits first, asks questions later." It's in the same vein as when people say "Jason likes books" as short-hand for "see, he's smart at something" rather than acknowledging that Jason achieved a degree's worth of knowledge in comp-sci by age 13.
Anyway Smart and Strong Jason, my beloved. I wish DC & others loved you as much as Rosenburg and the teams of artists he's been working with do.
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tonkatsubowl · 7 months
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blind.
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dan heng x fem!reader
part two.
➽ inspired by satoru gojo! what if the reader had a special ability with her eyes and often wore a blindfold?
➽ reader is a flirt!
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you were one of elios' favorite workers. just like kafka, you had a drastic amount of bounty on your head—dead or alive, but when it came to hunting you down... nobody really knew your description. nobody knew your appearance. they didn't even know if you wore a blindfold. were you a man? a woman? what was your gender identity? what was your height, weight, the color of your eyes? your hair?
yeah, you were anonymous. that was one of your nicknames when it came to the others.
compared to everyone else, those who hunted down the stellaron hunters knew what they looked like. everyone knew the name "kafka", which sent shivers down their spine every time they had mentioned this notorious villain in their worlds... but yours was quite similar to 'anonymous'.
kafka often joked and teased with you that your name was mysterious, and silver wolf had already began to make a jrpg video game with some inspiration from your name. blade didn't care for your name—but he was always pondering and suspicious about the blindfold that covered your eyes. they had seen your eyes a few times, but never once did you ever use them in battle.
your name... was anonymous... anonymous. anonymous. you were truly anonymous, and nobody but your allies knew what you truly looked like.
you worked in the shadows, taking the lives of many to succeed in your mission. but now was different — for whatever reason, elios decided to have you infiltrate the astral express.
it sounded almost impossible considering the security measures that were implanted in the system, along with herta's intellectual mindset when it came to technology... but now, you had silver wolf's help, who practically could hack into the universe and mess with its files of reality... digitally.
there were some files in dan heng's archive that you needed to retrieve... some of it was classified information, which was oddly peculiar. of course, elios wanted it. so, he trusted you—one of the finest stellaron hunters—to retrieve it. kafka was originally supposed to take this mission, but elios had her do something else. something that was also top-priority.
silver wolf did a few things, and you were on your own for the rest. as you entered the express, you were silent. your footsteps were inaudible, as though you were walking on air. you were fully aware of your surroundings despite the blindfold. your world was covered in darkness, but you could still see in a way.
you knew where the couches were at. where himeko left her coffee mug. you knew where the hallways were at—your senses were just this good.
upon entering the corridor that connected to several rooms, you stop in front of dan heng's room. placing a hand against the door, you could feel the vibrations of the softest of movements from the other side. dan heng was asleep on the floor... you could feel march rolling around on her bed asleep, assuming the room next to dan heng's belonged to her.
then came the next step... entering the room, which you did swiftly, silently and remaining undetected.
you enter the room, embraced by the sight of his large window which displayed the starry night sky of the galaxy. the speakers that softly played soft lofi music, and the books that were resting together on the large bookshelves in the room... and there, in the corner of your eye... well, not really your eye, but you sensed dan heng was asleep.
you discreetly move towards his computer, moving your hand towards the keyboard...
... what was the password? now you'd have to ask silver wolf to hack into his computer. that was when—
"don't move."
you felt the tip of dan heng's signature weapon pierce through the air, aiming at the back of your neck. you froze, unsure how dan heng had noticed you when you came in here undetected... what was going on? but you had a sly smirk on your face, feeling, sensing dan heng was behind you, observing you.
despite the blindfold, you could "see" everything.
"oh, my." you cooed, lifting both of your hands. "you caught me. i'm impressed."
you turn your head to the side, and dan heng was met with suspicion. could you see with that blindfold on? who are you? and how did you get in his room? or even... how did you get into the astral express without setting off the security system?
"state your name. your business. who are you?"
you hear him firmly grasping the spear, his grip tightening.
"oh my..." you whisper softly. "you're asking too many questions, dan heng."
he blinked—how did you know his name?
"i wish i can really tell you, but... i get a little too shy on the first date."
immediately, you turn and knock the spear out of dan heng's hand. you were incredibly faster than him, even catching him off guard as you threw him against the floor, pinning him against the ground. he breathed, his eyes gazing up against the fabric that covered your oculars. slowly, you pull down the blindfold, revealing your beautiful e/c eyes.
"there's a reason why i wear this." you say in a soft, seductive whisper, running your finger down from dan heng's lips and towards his chest. "my eyes... are fused with a stellaron. i wear a blindfold so it doesn't make my eyes dry and irritable, you know?"
dan heng was unable to do anything. truthfully, he was enchanted by your beauty, but he was also still in the process of trying to get out of this life or death situation.
but... really, he was stuck underneath you as you pinned him down.
"i can see what's inside of you. read your soul, see things that many people can't normally see... but for the first time, you see me. hell, you even detected me. so i think i'll reward you. what do you think?"
"gh—" dan heng grunted, before trying to make his escape... unfortunately you had stopped him, forcing him down with the immense strength you had. he couldn't win against you.
"shh, pretty boy. behave for me for a second." your eyes scan him, before you leaned down... boldly pressing your lips against dan heng. oh, he was cute. you had to steal a kiss.
he blinked, frozen in shock as he totally did not expect this. he moved his head around a bit, trying to maneuver away from your lips. but you forced him down even more, allowing your tongue to explore into his mouth. you could feel dan heng growing more incited, feeling as he was slowly giving up against your lips... and the moment you pulled away, a string of saliva was connected between the both of your lips. dan heng was breathing heavily, and was red.
"wh... what are you doing... what.. who are you? what do you want?"
licking your lips, you stand up from the heated mess of an introvert as you walked towards the computer. typing in the password, you placed a usb flash drive into the side of the computer, downloading every bit of information into the device.
"you taste good. are you single? i think you are."
dan heng was completely out of it, his mind spinning as he laid on the ground helpless. he even watched you download all the information from his computer of his database into your usb flash drive, before it was settled into your pocket.
"thanks for the information. my eyes see everything, you know."
as you make your way towards the door, you heard dan heng scramble up to his feet with a clumsy, "w-wait!"
you stop, turned to him and looked at him with your innocent, strange... stellaron eyes.
"what is it, dan-dan?" a new given nickname.
"... what's... what's your name?"
your head tilts to the side innocently as you step closer, knowing your lips carried somewhat of a toxin that could render anyone emotionally distraught or weak... or to even lust after you. however, you were interested in dan heng.
"... i'll tell you if you take me out for a date." you leaned in, giving your new little crush a kiss on his lips before disappearing into the night.
you were gone, but a piece of paper was slowly falling from the air, and it was caught by dan heng... it read,
here's my number! ♡︎ i think youre cute ヾ(¯∇ ̄๑)
xxx-xxx-xxxx
text me whenever. ♬
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i turned it into a series! check the parts above!
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dimepdf · 10 months
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★  𝐈𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒, 𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀
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masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. your small town was known to those who carried money in their pockets, especially attention-grabbing men like Miguel, who needed a place to stay in town for the night. luckily, your hostel-owning cousin is willing to make just the perfect bargain for the traveler.
─── ☆ notes. oh brother here we go again. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍
─── ☆ length. 4k (30 minute read)
─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | medieval au | warrior!Miguel | servant!reader | one night stand | strangers to lovers | brief plot | pwp | love motel | size difference | height difference | size kink | body worship | degradation kink | name calling | eye contact | cream pie | marking | biting | rough sex | hair pulling | strength kink | we ignore typos here | song title Inspo
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THE POPULATED TOWN of Edgewater was a place you called home. It was strange when it came to its fair share of travelers, from coin-hungry merchants to empty welding warriors and the cobbled roads that stretched from land to the seashore.
Edgewater was known for its lively community, always something happening from dusk till dawn, the moon only encouraging those of the night to linger on.
Most would call it anarchy. You would call it a pisspot full of people who didn't know what else to do with their lives, so all they could do was drink. 
Your uncle, who had owned one of the town's most sought-after local love hostels, catered to the sleazy travelers that would stumble their way into the heart of the town with more coin than they knew what to do with, calling the grotty drunken things that would come through looking for an easy way to settle their darkest desire good for business. 
Your uncle, who wasn't actually your uncle but had been the closest thing you unfortunately considered family since the day you could first remember, had always been guided towards the promise of good wealth. He was a grimy older man you had been stuck with since he had first adopted you after your mother's unfortunate passing. She had been one of his workers who had collected more debt than the men she would have ever bedded combined.
Debt that had been carried on down like a tragic legacy, leaving you shackled as the one and only handmaiden forced to clean whatever was leftover from the men you would envy as they had the ability to actually leave. Your forced imprisonment was the main reason why you would snide at every man that would struggle through the front door, drunk fools with not enough coins in their pockets to pay for rent or take care of their families back at home, yet just enough to come to your uncle's love hotel and buy off one of the mistresses to give them a temporary good time.
You thought them to be all the same, balding drunks running away from their lives off with some mistress that falsely tolerated the disappointment that they used to think with between their legs for the coins in their pockets. You couldn't blame them for their jobs. In fact, you preferred to be the one scrubbing the aftermath, then bed with some of the toothless, grimy slobs considered customers your uncle would welcome as if they were his old friends.
You would even consider the fact of having some sort of liking for your job. Being considered a lowly maid came with its rare but useful perks. Other than not being a lady of the night because you were too busy wiping the stained cum from sheets, you were allowed to dawn more comfy drapes, allowed to eat whatever you pleased without your uncle chastising you about your weight since your body wasn't his to display, and lastly, the best part of it all: the eavesdropping.
The town was big with gossip, word to mouth was how normally word would spread throughout businesses and homes faster than the ink would dry from the papers being passed out. Since you were the only real task hand in the love hostile most upkeep jobs besides cleaning were included in your wages. During afternoon runs through the market, you oh so loved to keep an ear out for bickering couples, big-mouthed children, or even merchants that would slip their tongues of secrets. 
Said way was also how you caught word of an interesting wanderer that had stepped foot on the town's soil. With whispers of a dark-skinned, broadening warrior that stood out from the rest, hipping an iron sword and battle scars, you heard word that he was merking somewhere around for a place to rest for the day, along with some supply trading.
Your brow almost raises at the mention of places to stay the night. Edgewater was a place where you could murder someone and then sell the clothes off their back for a nice dime, not necessarily the place you could go trusting just about anyone to stay the night, especially if you were lugging around the type of gear the merchants already had as big as the target on your back as this guy did.
This is why you were surprised later in the night to see two men ram their way through the front door of the building. You were working on sweeping some of the dust from the wooden floorboards near the entrance, almost flinching out of your own skin as the doors slammed open. You quickly collected yourself, holding back from muttering something rude under your breath instead of turning to greet the guest.
An older man, who you had assumed to be the cause of the door hinges being in their last life, stumbled in and almost slumped over if it weren't for the man beside him carrying his drunken dead weight as he rambled on and on to the other man he leaned against about how great this hostile was for the eye candy and how he whiffed on and on about how he could get them both discounted personal rooms just to prove his point. The other man made you halt in greeting, almost choking on your words as you took in his appearance.
You were starting to understand how he had managed to grab the town's attention now that you were able to see him with your own eyes. He was a much taller man compared to the other, you only assumed he'd be taller in his own height if it weren't for his hunched structure, practically lugging a grown man on his left shoulder. He had been a fit fighter for the warrior description, with his broadened shoulder and the peak of muscles from his sleeve being yanked up as the dark curtain of hair that shields most of his face from where you stood. Though his clothes were tatted and worn-looking, on his hip was sheathed a sword.
His presence alone would suffocate you alone if it weren't for the awkward situation of him babysitting some bubbling idiot. It only took seconds for your uncle to come budging in, greeting the two and settling them into separate rooms. He had managed to even squeeze a little more coin out of the newcomer, your uncle offering him a place for the entire night since he heard he had nowhere to stay "out of the kindness of his heart." You almost snorted at his fancy act of knocking up the prices and throwing in packages that didn't exist to the poor mystery tourist.
Since the unnamed stranger's arrival, the powder room has erupted into a fit of frenzy. You hadn't seen this many of the women chatter about being excited and happy since a few years back when a strangler of men came back to town with their hunt earnings and decided to make the poor decision of blowing all their newly earned money in one night.
It was sad to say that the excitement would slowly die out more and more as the night progressed. Even though who you considered the most stunning women to come back with pouty faces and empty pockets cussing the new handsome-faced fellow's name under their breaths, the man had managed to do his rounds of rejecting just about every working lady in the hostile, much to your uncle's dismay, who at first just waved his dismissal off as him being just being another picky man with a type.
Your uncle wanted to charge him for more than just the bed he had offered him, yet no matter how many times he would send a new girl to his doorstep, the man had gotten to the point of annoyance where he wouldn't even bother to have the courtesy of not slamming the door closed in their face before they could utter a word. Unfortunately, due to their demise for failed flirting, you were the very last option at your uncle's attempt at ringing money out of the warrior's pockets. You put up a quiet fight, making every excuse under the sun until your uncle flat out struck you across the face and spat that he would threaten to stop giving you pay and instead add the wages you've collected to the long list of debts you were trying to pay off.
The threat was enough to have you taking your sweet old time, shuffling your feet against the floorboards, making your way down to the stranger's door, your hands tracing over the soft throb of the cut he had lifted, marked in a scratch from the backhand of one of his rings. You hadn't even bothered changing out of the clothes you had been working in all day. Instead of protesting with what was left of your pride in your hands, you held some spare straw pillows that your uncle gave you to use as some sort of excuse to coax you into at least opening the door.
You lightly tapped your knuckle against the wood for a moment before you knocked once more with just a bit more force, "Excuse me, sir." You hadn't even finished your sentence before the door creaked wide open.
By the slight raise of his brow, you guessed that he too wasn't expecting to see that you were the one behind the intrusion. Your words shriveled down your throat at the towering sight of him. Now standing tall in his full glory, his height almost reached up to the top of the door if he hadn't been using the frame to slouch against, very shirtless.
You took a step back out of instinct, taking in his muscled torso, bared with scars and marks you could only imagine the battle he earned them from. In Between the distance that parted you two was another beat of silence, his as he stared down at you, his features now plastered with what you could only assume was boredom as you gaped up at him, your mouth parting like you were some type of fish as your brain struggled to form the words you wanted to come from your throat.
"Uh, sorry, just—would you mind if I….offered company?" Your voice trembled as you couldn't make the request sound more awkward, forcing the strength surging through your veins to hold you upright as his eyes shamelessly traveled down your body as if you were some sort of prey ready to get swallowed up.
"And what company would you ever have to possibly offer me?" An annoyed grimace soon followed as he spoke, making it difficult for you to even process if the question was supposed to be insulting.
"I offer an exchange. You take these pillows and let me hide out in your room—at least until you leave, so my uncle stays off both of our backs." In the offer, you lifted the pillows towards him, watching as he scanned them with the same expression of boredom as if you were offering him vegetable soup.
"I should mention that if you do not accept, my uncle will be more furious with me than you." Clarifying the stakes you were taking, the beast of a man gave your face a once-over, his expression softening to something that you could only guess was a pity as a sigh parted his lips, gesturing you inside with a careless limp wave. He had not bothered moving over, only raising his arm to let you walk under and into the room before closing the door and making his way to the bed.
You could only watch, standing close to the other corner of the room, as he slouched, sitting against the headboard almost too comfortably against the creaking wooden mattress to what you assume he continued his interrupted task of sharpening his sword. 
The room, besides the moonlight that leaked onto the floor from the open curtains. Had the room been poorly lit, a light orange from the oil lamp that sat on the crate-made nightstand illuminated the man's figure and sword dangerously. The light kissed his muscles and tanned auburn features, basking in the handsome aura that he was intertwined with, reminding you of the portraits you would see strung up in royal galleries of oil-painted men ascending from the parted clouds.
Your staring had not gone unnoticed. The man's dark eyes flitted over to you, gazing upon all the scabbed, light scars that riddled up from his torso to his face as if they were tattoos. "Could you at least give me your name before undressing me so unkindly with your perverted eyes?" he offered out another vague-sounding insult, dipping his sword back into its sleeve as he reverted his attention to you. The raising of his thick brow was the demise of any offense you could have possibly reacted with. You spoke your name softly, almost as if you were in the blink of forgetfulness, falling under whatever spell came with him bearing his charming canines.
"And I, Miguel," he returned, easing back his shoulders slightly, bowing his head, and reaching his arms out for you in a small polite greeting, which you could only assume to be considered manners outside of your town. Your steps were skittish, pausing for a moment before your legs processed the placement that you stood away from had to be closed for you to shake his hand. You had practically wisped across the room with the light of your feet as your hand ghosted close to his.
He took the first step in closing the distance, reaching for your hand and pressing the back of your palm against his lips. To say that the gestures had not stirred something inside of you would be a deep lie as you caught your eyes following his mouth. Your hand flinched under his gentle hold, molding against the callus of his fingers before you had even realized it. Your fingers brushed up against the scar that stretched against the end of his brow.
Miguel yanked back in a wince as your breath hitched, his brows knitted together, and a large hand fisted around the bend of your wrist, yet his hard stare never left the same mouth your fingers had just rudely traced over. "Just what is going on in that perverted mind of yours?" His tone held a strong accent that made every word sound condescending yet more gentle than the last time he spoke, his grasp planting you just beside the bed between his legs. 
You wanted to call him out on his insulting accusation. If it had been any other man on the street, you probably would've given him an earful by now, yet there was just something so alluring about Miguel that left the bend of your knees threatening to wobble as he glanced up at you with his dark, intimidating eyes. "I bet you're not even going to apologize. How rude."
Your own lips parted in hopes of a response, yet shut quickly as his hand interpreted you once more, guiding your hand by the hold on your wrist back to his face and letting your palm rest against the curve of his cheek. Your fingers dance against all the small scabs and smudges he had yet to clean from his face, almost as if he were caressing himself with your own hand. You didn't bother pulling away, letting his warmth dance under your palm at his grasp. Your thumb graced under the most prominent scar caught close to the side of his lip, tracing the mark and pausing at just the underside of his mouth.
The very inmate exchange had opened a portal of doors for your hands to explore the curious marks on his body, from dark specks of moles scattered against his brown skin as if they were constellations to the ugly scabs dug on top of his abs from wounds that healed over from his troubled past. Spread against his skin were stories and experiences, all of which you could never imagine from the bubble of your small rural village.
Miguel let your curious fingers wander on their own, the palms of his hands coaxing around your hips and guiding you into his lap. Not once did you break contact with the light gleam in his dark eyes, not even when you realized that you were practically straddling yourself over just one of his spread-tensed, muscly thighs.
There was no point in squirming away. You had no desire to lean back now, no want to back now, backing away from the control of his cosset, instead melting into the warmth that engulfed under his touch until you were supporting yourself up by the brace of your swung arm around his neck to stabilize yourself.
All senses are overcome with sheer curiosity, with your fingers tracing every ridge and mottle, following the rise and fall of his bare chest. There grew a stained festering of want, a need now revealing its restlessness growing tight within you, so much so that your initial fear was soon drowned out by the heat shifting within your core.
Miguel did just about everything, yet so little to entertain your touch, letting your eyes swallow him whole, knowing just what he was doing and pressing just the right amount of pressure into his fingertips that held around your waist. 
His expression had shifted from that bored and somewhat tired look to something more heavy that you could not quite decipher in the low light. You would have been mistaken for thinking that he hadn't had any interest in the fact that you were sitting in his lap if it weren't for the faint throbbing reaction you felt pressing against your thigh.
You were all for self-respect and protecting your dignity, but you just couldn't help but yank that fucking bar down to the dirt and throw yourself at him. If anything, it was more of a freefall you took, leaning in and pressing your lips against your body to cut through the thick tension.
It was your nervousness fading at the sooth of his hands, bringing you in closer by the waist, your back arching to press closer to his chest. His kisses were as rough as you thought they would be, from everywhere his lips grazed, from your mouth to the curve of your collarbones. They left your nerves jolting at the brush of his sharp canines brushing against a sensitive spot close to your jugular.
The whiny small pleads of encouragement were all that could part from your kissed lips, his hands unknotting from the hold on your hips to slowly undoing the buttons to your nightgown, exposing more of your skin for him to assault, his hands cupping your breast through the cotton fabric, groping and suckling at your budded nipples through the fabric of your arching body with a drooling obsession.
With your eyes fluttering shut and head tilted back, drowning in pleasure, already putty under his touch, it was easy for him to lay your limp figure down against the uncomfortable hay-stuffed mattress your uncle would be too cheap to call a bed.
Hiking your thigh over his shoulder with a quick yank, his clean-shaven face smooth against your spread thighs, burying himself between your legs. The ghost of the ghost wanting to admit to it being your first time caught in your throat, cutting through the thick cloud of your worries and insecurities. The moment he brought his mouth close to your mount, his tongue was practically savage against your poor clit. 
The vibration of his grunts as your nails knotted around a handful of the hair that curled around the nape of his neck, shifting your hips against the rhyme of the roll warmth of his tongue. A sigh was launched down your throat the moment his thick dark lashes fluttered open, instantly latching onto your gaze, a shiver running down your spine at the lewd scene of the man between your legs desiring your pussy with his mouth.
In the back of your mind, you found it ironic how you were practically close to screaming out Miguel's name as if it were a praying plea for your life, yet in an earlier time in your life, you would always look on in disgust at the moans that would leak through from rooms your coworkers serviced, swearing to yourself that you would never find yourself behind those same doors, yet there you were climaxing under a handsome stranger's tongue as he lapped your twitching cunt through the hard ripple of your orgasm.
His lips tasted like you. 
That was the first sense that welcomed you back down from whichever cloud you were floating on. Miguel's tongue invaded your mouth, and swallowing whatever breath you tried to pant out, the struggling continued. He pressed your thighs apart enough to slot himself in between them as a tensed string itched in your lower thigh muscles, your legs trembling under his fingers.
The head of his cock was intrusive and rude, to say the least, bumping his girthy length against you, shamelessly shifting his hips, covering himself in the wetness of your legs, kissing back every whimper that came up your throat at his fat tip, threatening to breach between your lower lips without any proper hopes of a graceful welcome.
The stretch of his fat tip parting you open left a cry falling from you as Miguel grunted into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath against your sweat-clad skin. Your back arched up against his broad chest as the lewd size of his cock overtook the rest of the sense you had left within your fogged spirit, his dawning pace merciful with experimentally slow strokes deep enough to make your toes curl against the scratchy duvet bedding to a rough pistoning rhythm against your core.
Your fingers clamping tight into the straw pillow at the all too familiar tensing knot forming in your stomach, begging with each harsh thrust, you let outpaced, panting, punched-out moans, following the lead of Miguel's hips, who barreled through your tight cunt as your second orgasm rudely yanked you back to bliss. Your body trembled from exhaustion under Miguel's unsetting ramming hips. The minutes flew by as your brain struggled to do anything but cry out unfinished sentences leading with his name.
Using your noises of encouragement, Miguel chased after his own pleasures, slowly drifting into a less rhythmic pace. His hips buried themselves as he rutted deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his size, snug enough to twitch his cum into where he lay with one last low, strung-out, stuttering groan.
With each other's hearts hammering, you and Miguel fell fatigued against one another, welcoming the slug of his weight as a comforting weighted blanket, neither bothering to curl away from the other nor making any effort to pull himself out, instead using the strength that you deemed to be infinity for him to reposition you on top.
His arm wrapping around the lower part of your torso and nuzzling his chin against you with a tired breath, more than content with spending the night in his room, knowing that your wobbling legs would betray you the moment you stood on your own, closing your eyes and slumbering against his chest in comfort.
Maybe that was why you shifted away with an aching start, the bruising mark littered across your skin a shade of a hinting purple and red, as well as the mess between your legs painted as a lone reminder of the acts you had committed last night. Miguel had apparently gone after sunrise, leaving the spot in which he lay empty with a stricken feeling in your chest and a defeated spirit after hearing your uncle congratulate you for milking enough money out of the visitor to pay off all of your debt completely.
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whenrainhitsmyskin · 11 months
Text
Five Times Bakugo Katsuki Fell in Love with You
pairing: bakugo katsuki x reader
word count: 7.2k
summary: He doesn’t really know when it first happened, the longing looks in your direction, holding doors open for you, or making sure he attended your shared groups movie nights when he knew you would be there, but he does remember the first day violent butterflies swarmed his gut and attacked him from the inside.
warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, talk about anxiety, hospitalization, emotional vulnerability, so much fluff it’s sickening.
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The First Time
During the first semester of their second year at UA, Mr.Aizawa had begun instructing more hand-to-hand combat training exercises. It started with demonstrations from the pros and some lessons, and then finally the real deal, to put their learning into practice. 
Aizawa had put together partner rotations, first starting out with people around the same weight class or height, but as the lessons went on the partners became mismatched so the class could learn how to fight someone smaller and more nimble than them or taller with a longer arm reach.
Today, Bakugo was paired up with Mineta, the small fry of the class. Although he always was very serious and dedicated to hands-on hero training, he couldn’t help but take it easy for the day considering he was way out of his competition's caliber.
And he guesses this also caused him to be more distracted than usual as well, considering he usually never lost focus, but today must be an exception when he can’t keep his eyes away from you and your training partner Kirishima. He turns in your direction as soon as he hears you raise your voice at the red head.
“What the hell are you doing Kirishima?” You ask with your hands on your hips staring at Kirishima, who is sitting on the mat in front of you.
“What do you mean y/n? I’m not doing anything?” He asks.
“Why are you going so easy on me, huh?” You shout, lifting him by the collar of his gym uniform. It’s like watching a bad car crash and not being able to look away. By this time the whole class and Mr.Aizawa had stopped what they were doing to get an understanding of what was going down.
“I swear I'm not man!” Kirishima explains, he looks mildly scared even though he’s a few inches taller and his biceps are probably double the size of your own, “You just got the jump on me.”
“Bullshit Kirishima, hand-to-hand combat is basically your specialty considering your quirk is better in close range.” You let him go with a small push, Bakugo swears he can see steam coming out from your ears, “I saw you beat Midoriya multiple times the other day, and I didn’t win against him once last week, so stop going easy on me, it’s not doing either of us any good.”
He would laugh if he couldn’t see how fucking serious you were, calling out one of your closest friends on his bullshit in front of everyone, even though he’s the nicest person in the class. He’s impressed, although he would never admit that.
“She’s right, Kirishima.” Mr.Aizawa cuts in, “This training is supposed to help everyone improve, so fight her like you would a real opponent. Now everyone get back to work!”
That’s what gets Bakugo to finally snap out of his daze from you and back to sparring.
The Second Time
The class was sent away to different locations to complete the practical part of their midterm for their second year. The goal of the exercise is to retrieve the dummy “civilian” from the pro hero who is acting as the “villain”. Class 2A has been split up into several teams, which is why Bakugo just can’t seem to wrap his head around how he is stuck with the Dunce Face who never fails to irritate him, the Icy-Hot bastard that is constantly getting on his nerves with everything he does and then there's…you, the only one apart of this shitty team he can kind of tolerate.
The “villain” his shitty group was up against is a holder of an animation quirk, who can bring inanimate objects to life. It’s already been proven to be a real pain in the ass considering every bush, rock and flower has been coming at them from every angle.
It’s around 1am and everyone is cold and exhausted, so the group decided to set up camp for the night. Himself, you and Todoroki were resting while Denki was meant to stay on watch, but he abandoned his post in favor of peeing somewhere deeper into the woods, which is when the villain decided to animate nearly every tree surrounding their camp site.
Bakugo woke up to the sounds of rustling and a violent scream from your mouth. The three of you start fighting back. How did nobody notice the trees were being animated? And where the hell is Dunce Face? 
He’s probably taken down about a fourth of them himself by the time he hears Sparky running back behind him.
“What the hell happened?” Denki screams, as he joins in on the fight.
“You weren’t doing your damn job Sparky, that’s what happened!” He berated him. Just before Bakugo was going to take down the next one, he noticed your quirk getting weaker, and you were taking longer to defeat the enemy than you should.
“Take this last one!” Bakugo commanded, in order to make this way over to you. 
“On it!” Denki said from a distance.
Bakugo quickly jumped in front of you and took down the last tree, Denki and Todoroki finished off their own as well.
“That one was mine, asshole.” You say, sounding winded. 
“Yeah, well it looks like ya needed the help.” He responds, and that’s when he finally gets a better look at your injury. 
The sight is absolutely gruesome, there’s a nasty gash in the middle of your thigh that’s definitely going to need stitches and recovery girls help, the blood is dripping down the span of your whole leg and onto the grass.
“Oh my god…” He says, not able to take his eyes off of it. You end up following his line of sight and look down. Your eyes widen when you finally see it.
“Oh shit.” You say, lowering yourself to the ground. He can see tears start to prick your eyes as Todoroki and Denki make their way over to you.
“Everything okay?” Todoroki asks, squatting down next to you, “That doesn’t look good.”
“Yeah, no shit moron!” Bakugo points out.
“Oh my god I can’t look!” Denki says, putting his hands over his mouth, “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Do it somewhere else.” Todoroki says, seemingly disgusted.
“You guys are the absolute worst!” Bakugo says in an aggravated tone, “This is all on you Sparky!”
“Everyone shut up!” You yell, Bakugo can see you trying to work something out in your head, a moment later you finally voice what you’ve come up with, “Denki get me your water bottle and-fuck, Bakugo, I need you to put pressure above the wound, lots of it and Todoroki rip off both of your sleeves.”
Bakugo thinks you seem pretty calm for someone that could potentially bleed out at any moment, given that a major artery could have been hit. He determines it is probably a mix of shock and the adrenaline from the fight.
He lowers himself to the ground and puts both hands above your upper thigh, using lots of pressure like you said to do.
“Fuck, we need to call off the mission and get you to a doctor y/n.” He says, his voice wavering, as Todoroki hands over the torn off sleeves and the water Denki retrieved, who is now standing a few feet away.
“Absolutely not, we are gonna carry on with the mission and pass this final.” You say sternly, grabbing the mask right off of Bakugos head and ripping it. You push his hands off of you and tie the mask tightly around where his hands once were.
“Don’t be so stubborn, we can’t-“ He begins.
“Well fucking deal with it!” You say as you begin pouring water on one of the sleeves, “I’m not going anywhere until we pass, I’ll be fine. Now I need you to clean this thing.”
He gives you a hard look and then does what you say. He pats the wound and tries to clean it out as much as he can. You hiss out in pain and fist the grass underneath your palms, he hears Denki gagging in the back.
“Okay-okay that’s good.” You say, he pulls the cloth away and watches you tie the dry sleeve around the wound, he supposed you must have learned more in that Health and Safety class than he did. 
“Well, what now?” Todoroki asks, awaiting your response.
“We go get that dummy, get the hell out of here and pass the exam.” You state with conviction, he can’t tell if you're trying to trick yourself into believing it, or if you are fully confident. You reach your hand out to Bakugos own, “Now help me up.” 
Bakugo grabs onto the hand you are holding up and swings your arm around his shoulder, trying to relieve you of some of the weight you would normally be using on that leg. The group starts heading to the location where the dummy is supposedly located. Denki and Todoroki are a few feet in front of the two of you, but he can make out the faint sound of their whispers and catches them glancing back a few times.
“Thanks.” You sigh, you sound tired and worn out and he thinks you look slightly pale, but he knows if he even attempts to call off the mission you would probably try strangling him to death.
“You did good.” He says, thoughts slipping out, “You stayed really calm in a high stress situation. It’s…impressive.” There’s a pause filled by only your silence, he’s worried he caught you off guard with such a direct compliment, considering he’s probably never given you one before.
“Yeah, well if I wasn’t going to help myself, who would?” You ask.
“Me, it obviously wouldn’t be either of those two idiots.” He doesn't think the two of you have ever talked this much without other people being involved. He guesses you’re just trying to keep your mind off of your injury, he reasons talking with you in favor of passing this exam.
“You got some of the worst scores in our medical training class because you claimed it wouldn’t be useful to you.” You chuckle, giving him a look, unfortunately for him, he looks back.
You’ve got a small smile gracing your lips, even though you’re probably in an immense amount of pain. But what he really can’t wrap his head around is the fact that you’re smiling at him. Why does he even care?
“Yeah well maybe I’ll brush up on it.” He says, his ears are burning, and his heart is beating faster than it probably should be, considering the fight ended over twenty minutes ago.
The Third Time:
When Mina asked him before dinner if he wanted to watch a movie tonight with their shared friend group, he wasn’t all that interested. He would much rather get to bed at a decent time, wake up early tomorrow and use their one day off to study for Monday's Hero History exam.
“No, I'm not watching another shitty movie.” He says, grabbing his plate of food and sitting down at the common room table, right across from you, a recent development in the class's seating arrangements.
“Oh, come on! They aren’t that bad.” She says, taking a seat next to you, “y/n, movie night, are you down?”
“Yeah of course!” You say, seemingly excited to spend the night with your friends, “As long as Sero doesn’t choose it this time. Are you gonna join us Bakugo?”
He pauses, he can’t remember a time where you directly invited him to something before. He thinks you look sincere, and your question makes it seem like you actually want him to be there. Why does he care if you want him there or not?
“Fine, whatever.” He begrudgingly agrees and continues eating his meal.
“Okay cool.” You say, he notices the smile on your face when you speak.
Meanwhile, Mina's jaw is on the floor when she stares between the two of you, but eventually it turns into a sly smirk.
About an hour after dinner everyone meets in the common room for movie night, he notices that most of the class is there, taking up nearly all the space on the couches, besides the one to the far right where Sero, Mina and Kirishima are sitting. Bakugo sits on the edge closest to the tv, leaving space between him and Mina.
He looks around the room. On the couch across from him is Denki, Jirou, Yaoyorozu, Ojiro and Shoji and on the center couch across the tv is Todoroki, Asui, Uraraka and Deku with an empty space next to him. He notices that you aren’t anywhere in the common room like you were supposed to be.
Almost as soon as Sero starts the movie, he sees you getting out of the elevator with Shinsou, the pair of you are laughing. He sees you’re wearing pajamas, frilly little shorts and a sweatshirt, he thinks it's kind of cute.
The two of you make your way into the common area, still talking and giggling, he doesn’t like it and he is unable to pinpoint why. Shinsou splits off and sits next to Deku and you slot yourself into the seat next to your best friend and him.
“Anything happened yet?” You ask, not really to anyone in particular, but he takes it upon himself to answer.
“No, just started.” He says, watching you grab a blanket from a nearby basket, “You’re late.”
“Yeah, I wanted to get ready for bed so I don’t have to after the movie.” You say. He just grunts in response and brings his attention to the screen. 
Once you get situated in your seat, he realizes just how crammed the small couch is, your legs are brushing against each other and he swears he can feel your breath, causing bumps to arise on his skin.
About halfway through the movie, which consists of sharks coming out of a tornado-seriously, who lets Sero pick the movie every time?-, he feels your body weight shifting on the couch to get comfortable, and your knee ends up hitting the top of his thigh.
“Oops, sorry.” You apologize to him in a whisper, he feels you trying to move away, but are unable to since Mina is right up against you.
“It’s alright.” He says, turning from the tv and looking at you instead, “Don’t mind.” He can see you start to get red in the face.
“Oh…” Is all you manage to let out in response, he gives you a hard look, your face exudes embarrassment, seeing as you are looking everywhere but his direction. He finds it within himself to turn his attention back to the movie, he wishes he could have seen the adorable expression on your face just a little bit longer.
With just a few minutes left of this god-awful movie, he feels your head hit his shoulder, he goes as stiff as a board and his stomach drops at the foreign feeling. He turns his head and see’s you knocked out by tiredness and unfortunately for him, he can also see Mina and Kirishima giggling, he mouths “shut up” to them.
When the movie credits finally start to roll, everyone begins making their way up to their respective rooms. Denki gives him a thumbs up as he walks away, making Bakugo unironically slap his forehead, not knowing what to do about you sleeping on him. 
After the common room is completely cleared out and he looks at the clock and sees how late it is, he finally builds up the courage to wake you up. He pokes you in the forehead to start. All you do is stir a little in your sleep but nestle into him further and get more comfortable. 
“Oh my god.” He says under his breath, “Time to get up.” He shakes his shoulder to move your head and then he tries nudging your own, but still no luck. He realizes you sleep like a fucking rock, and he is probably just going to have to carry you to your bed. He scoops you up in his arms and gets into the elevator. He arrives on the fourth floor where the both of you reside and if he remembers correctly, you are the last room on the girl’s side of the hallway.
He opens the door to your room, and it looks a lot different than what he would have expected. A lamp emits a soft light on the nightstand next to your unmade bed, which has gray sheets and a green blanket, an abundance of live plants sitting on the windowsill, your school books are piled up on your desk and a hanging black punching bag in the corner across from your closet, clothes and other items are hazardously thrown across the span of your floor. He’s surprised at how messy it is, considering how organized your thoughts and ideas are projected.
As soon as he lays you carefully down on your bed you stir awake. Of course, that’s the one thing that will wake you up.
“Bakugo?” You ask and look at your surroundings, “What are you doing in my room?”
“You fell asleep downstairs and nothing I did seemed to wake you, so I carried you.” He says, standing awkwardly at the side of your bed as you sit up and rub your eyes.
“Oh, well thanks.” You say, he takes a look at you, and he thinks you look kind of cute when you're all sleepy, and that's when he sees the long and jagged scar on your leg that was left on you as a result of last semester's final exam. When you finally open your eyes again, you catch him staring it at.
“Yeah, I know, it’s really ugly.” You state, with a pout on your face, you rub your thumb against it, like you're trying to erase the scar.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He says with a confused look on his face when he sees tears form a glassy sheen over your eyes, “Didn’t mean to stare.”
“It’s fine.” You say in a tone colder than he has ever heard you use. He can’t wrap his head around on why you’re so upset about the once damaged skin that is now healing on you. Had he done something else to offend you? Did his staring make you insecure about your skin? He racks his brain, trying to come up with something, anything, that could possibly help make you feel better.
“It’s just skin.” He tells you how it is, he doesn't know why he felt the need and desire to say something, “All scars are just skin.” He finally looks at your face and you look like he just rewrote the stars for you, with just a few short words. You look back down at your leg, seemingly in a different light.
“Yeah, just skin.” You repeat him.
“Right. Goodnight y/n.” He says, before going to exit your room. He closes the door behind him and lets out a deep breath. He touches his pulse, its fucking racing, his skin feels like its buzzing.
The Fourth Time:
The third year at UA for the hero course students consists more of hands-on experience through their work studies, rather than being in the classroom. Because of this it’s rare for the class to be there all together, when everyone is out doing their own things for their respective agencies.
Today, Bakugo, Midoriya and Todoroki were called into Endeavours agency for a meeting on an upcoming mission. The first person Bakugo notices when he walks into the conference room is you, to his surprise, seated next to Miriko, who you do your work study with. After him, Deku and Todoroki walk in and the door closes behind him, you take a glance over your shoulder and your eyes meet his own. You give him a smile and a short wave.
His face feels hot, and his neck is sweating, he pulls at the constricting collar of his school uniform, in an attempt to keep it from sticking to him. How is it that even the smallest of friendly gestures you make towards him has him feeling this pathetic?
He sees Deku pulling out the chair next to you to sit down, but before he can, Todoroki grabs him by the shoulders and moves him to the next seat over, causing Bakugo to sit next to you. He thinks the act is strange, but Icy-Hot is one of the strangest people he has ever met, so it adds up.
When Bakugo sits down next to you, he can see you looking at him from the corner of his eye, he fidgets with his thumbs under the table, he blames it on nerves for the upcoming mission and not the attention you have on him.
The plans for tomorrow's mission are all drawn out and prepared to be executed. The Pro’s take their leave in a hurry due to their busy schedules and Deku and Todoroki booked it out of there suspiciously fast as well. He stands up from his seat and notices that you are also.
“I was surprised when Miriko told me we were meeting at Endeavors Agency today,” You say to him, “I never thought we would be paired up for a mission together.”
“It’s weird they have such an uneven ratio of pros to students, makes me think this is going to be an easy one.” He responds. He reaches the door handle and before he can even think about it, he holds it open for you to go through first. He mentally slaps his forehead, for such an obvious gesture by his standards.
“Yeah, I really hope so.” You say with a smile on your face.
The next day rolls around, and the mission is finally a-go. Bakugo and you have been stationed on the roof of another building to stake out the old manufacturing warehouse where there have been reports of illegal drug and weapon distribution. 
They haven't been given any details on how many villains there are or what kind of quirks they have, so the mission needs to be treated with caution, hence the stake out, that has been going on for nearly two hours to see when the van's leave. That time mainly consisted of small talk between the two of you and building a strategy.
The first sign of movement is the back door opening up, three people with cargo loading up three different vans. He eyes you touching your earpiece.
“Miriko, they are loading up the vans with the contraband, what's the move? Do we stop them from taking off?” You ask for command.
“Negative, let them get far enough away where they can’t receive backup, but not too far where they will reach a heavily populated area.” She responds, her voice is a little staticky, but just clear enough to make out.
The pair of you turn towards one another and give each other a nod. Once the vans depart the two of you are off, jumping from building to building, to keep up with them, Bakugo takes a second to look back and sees the other teams heading into the building.
“I’ll get the one in front and you take the last one, ready!” He pauses, “Now!”
The both of you land on two separate vans, Bakugo kicks the front windshield open and throws the villain out the car door, he grabs onto the wheel, slams on the brakes and puts it in park, causing the vehicle to come to an abrupt halt. He gets out, pins the villain to the ground and restrains him with quirk prohibiting handcuffs. 
He turns around and sees the van you were assigned to has been flipped over onto its side, and you are fighting the villain that was in the middle van, you’re putting up a good fight, but that doesn't discourage him from running over to assist you. The two of you start tag-teaming him, but its nearly fucking impossible to get a good hit because his body keeps disappearing and reappearing right before his eyes.
He hears the sound of metal being split in half behind the two of you, so he takes a look in the direction he hears it coming from. He sees a villain holding some type of hand-held machine pointed directly at you. The villain presses a button and all of a sudden, his feet are taking him in your direction, and he ends up on the other side of an extremely powerful blast of air. 
It has him skidding down the road a few meters, throwing his body against the concrete. His ears are ringing, and his vision is blurry, he feels like he can’t breathe. He can just barely make out the sound of your voice and your blurry figure taking down and detaining the other two villains. And then you're rushing over to him. You fall on the ground, press on your earpiece and scream to whoever may be listening on the other end of it, it sounds like he’s under water. 
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Bakugo.” You put his head on your lap, you brush back his hair with one hand and put the other on the left side of his chest. You start crying, tears fall onto his skin, he feels your hands shaking, “You shouldn’t have done that for me, what-what were you thinking?”
He tries sitting up to get a better look at you, but his chest and ribs ache so bad he’s unable to, he hisses in pain and gives up. Instead, he says your name and covers the hand that’s on his chest with his own.
“It’s like holding a door open for ya, didn’t even have to give it a thought.” He says, and before you can even process his words or give him some words in return, exhaustion finally takes over him and everything fades out.
The next thing he knows, he’s stirring awake to an irritating beeping sound in the most uncomfortable bed he has ever had the displeasure of laying on. The air smells sterile and that’s how he concludes the beeping is probably coming from a heart monitor and he is currently laying in a hospital bed. The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Icy-Hot, who is standing at the foot of his bed and squinting at him.
“Guys he’s awake.” Todoroki alerts the others in the room. Bakugo tries finding his voice, but his throat is too dry and they won’t come out.
“Oh good!” Midoriya says, sitting up from the chair against the wall, “How are you feeling Kacchan?”
He points to the water bottle on the bedside table, Deku hands it to him, he takes a large sip, then two, then three and next thing he knows the whole thing is gone.
“M’fine, how did the rest of the mission play out?” He asks, more concerned for the villain's arrest than his own physical being.
“It went well, we arrested the villains inside of the warehouse and thanks to you and y/n, a good portion of the drugs and weapons never got distributed!” Midoriya chimes, and that's when he sees you over Todoroki’s left shoulder, looking out the window. Your eyes are a little red and your face is puffy, he wonders how long you had been crying for.
“Hey Midoriya, you and I should probably go find the doctor.” Todoroki says.
“Oh okay sure.” Deku responds. They make their exit out of the room and the door closes behind them. Bakugo sits up on the bed and leans against the frame. You still haven’t looked or said anything to him, which is weird because anytime one of your classmates gets injured you always rush to their aid and attempt to comfort them.
“Well, it seems like the mission went accordingly.” His pathetic attempt at making some kind of small talk with a little more substance. All you do is scoff at his words. “The mission is over, we won, what’s wrong with ya?” “Really, what’s wrong with me? The hell is your problem, Bakugo?” You ask, that’s all it takes for you to finally look his way, even though you are kind of half-yelling at him, that's all he really wanted.
“I am just fine y/n, you're the one that’s sulking right now.” He fights back because he thinks it’s what you need right now. The only way most people can get you to reveal your true feelings is by getting you fired up.
“I’m not sulking!” You move to the side of his bed and start talking with your hands like you always do when you’re passionate about something, “You’re the one that nearly got themself killed out in the field today.”
“What, so you're mad I took a hit? So, what, it happens all the time, get over it.” He says with a roll of his eyes.
“No-no, that's not, that's not what I’m talking about Bakugo.” You say, awaiting a response from him. All he does is shrug his shoulders, when you realize you aren't getting a proper response you continue, “You-you took the hit for me, why would you put yourself in danger like that?” He sees your eyes start to water, but no tears fall. They sit there at the brim of your waterline ready to release everything pent up inside. He supposes his heart sort of feels the same way. Ready to unleash every emotion that has been stored up inside for so long, yet there is still something holding it back. Maybe he’s embarrassed or thinks it’s unnecessary, which is probably how you are feeling about releasing your tears at this moment.
“Cause I didn’t want you to get hurt, dumbass. You wouldn’t have been able to brace for the impact, but I was because I knew it was gonna happen, it would have hurt you worse than me.” He says, but what he really means is that it was because he cares more about your comfort and safety than his own. He sees you mulling over his words, processing everyone individually and trying to interpret exactly what he means.
“Fine, I can accept that. I have a question for you though, what did you mean when you said-” You are abruptly cut off to the sound of the door opening. The doctor, Deku and Icy-Hot walk in, much to Bakugos displeasure.
“Glad to see you are up Bakugo!” The doctor says, flipping through his papers attached to the clipboard he’s holding, “Your parents are on their way, but before they get here, I want to run some additional testing. You three should probably head back to UA, Bakugo is likely to return by tomorrow morning if all is well.”
The doctor ushers the three of you to the door, he watches you cross the room and get ready to close the door behind you, but before you do, you give him a small smile, the tears at your waterline are gone.
The Fifth Time:
As a last hurrah before the school year comes to an end, class 3-A decided to go on a camping trip for a three-day getaway. The class started by loading all their supplies off the charter bus and completed their three-mile hike to the camping ground they rented out. Everyone stayed busy until the early afternoon setting up their tents, getting logs for the fire pit, finding the bathhouse and scoping out the nearby lake.
When everyone was just about to get settled in, Mr.Aizawa reminded everyone that UA was only able to grant this excursion because he promised the class would be doing some endurance training while they were there. So, the class was ordered to go on a run on one of the trails. Little did they know it was by far the longest one there and it took them until the sun was about to start setting to complete. 
“Good job everyone, now head to the showers you all reek,” Mr.Aizawa says, covering his nose slightly, “Once you're all done everyone will help with dinner preparations.” 
Once the class is dismissed and everyone takes turns cleaning up, Iida takes it upon himself to assign everyone jobs, so the preparations go smoothly.
“Shoji, Koda and Tokoyami you will be in charge of setting the tables, Sato, Tsu, Kirishima and Bakugo are on grilling duty and y/n, Hagakure, Todoroki and I will be doing food preparation!” Iida announces, Bakugo eyes Todoroki and him talking with one another, “Actually I'll have Todoroki and Bakugo switch places, in the name of efficiency! Everyone else is in charge of setting up the campfire.” Bakugo walks over to his assigned station and sees you and Hagakure unloading the groceries onto the pop-up table, he slots himself in the space to the left of you and takes an extra bag from your hands. He pulls out a few eggplants, zucchini and shishito peppers.
“Well, what do we start with?” He asks, not really to anyone in particular.
“I was thinking that Hagakure could rinse off the vegetables while I scrub them and then you can chop and then you hand them to Iida so he can season them.” You say.
“That sounds like a very efficient plan y/n.” Iida praises you; Bakugo can’t tell if you're blushing at Glasses, or if it's just the sun, he’s hoping it's the latter.
When the four of you begin, Hagakure, you and Iida begin easy conversation, he finds himself unable to partake in most of it because every time you pass him another vegetable your fingertips brush is own. It has his brain short-circuiting and he’s unable to comprehend what exactly is being talked about, which is proven to be problematic when you ask him a question that he doesn’t know the context to.
“Bakugo, are you gonna join?” You ask him, he can tell you’re looking at him, waiting for an answer, but he just keeps his focus on chopping.
“Join what?” He responds.
“We're all gonna hang out by the lake tomorrow!” Hagakure says excitedly, “Were you seriously not listening that whole time?” 
“Yeah whatever, I’ll be there.” He responds.
“Good, I'm glad.” He hears you say almost in a whisper. He pauses his movements and takes a look at you, your face is beat red, and he thinks your hands look a little shaky, but then he realizes his are too and he tightens his grip on the knife. 
Once dinner is done and the sun has fallen, everyone gathers around the campfire to roast marshmallows and hang out. By this point there’s multiple conversations happening and it’s all a little difficult to keep track of, besides the one he sees you and Shinsou having.
You’re leaning closer to him in your seat and then Shinsou says something you find particularly funny, it has your shoulders jolting, eyes watering and a big smile on your face. He hates it. Not because you are smiling, but the fact that it’s because of someone else and not him that he finds an issue with it. He needs it to stop, or he might go crazy, so he walks over to your seat.
“Come get more firewood with me.” Is all he says before he’s walking away, he hears you following behind him almost immediately, “You and Shinsou seem awfully close.”
“Uh yeah I guess so?” You sound estranged, “I mean we are friends.”
 All he does is grunt in response as he begins cutting some firewood. He can feel the jealousy radiating off himself, he hopes you can’t. When he hands you a piece of wood you speak up again.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t care.”
“Well then why did you ask?”
“Why are you reading so far into this, huh?” He fights back, “I don’t care if you two are together, it was just a statement. Now get over it.”
He sees your entire demeanor has changed. Your shoulders have slumped, your face has fallen, and you have turned away from him. You look like he’s just killed your dog. He goes back to cutting firewood and once you have gathered all you can carry, you storm off, back to the fire pit he supposes. When he gets there a few minutes after you, he sees you aren’t there, and neither is Mina.
“Bakugo, what happened?” Todoroki asks him.
“Nothin’ happened; the hell are you talkin’ about.” He says back, with a little bite to his words. 
“She came back without you, so Mina asked where you were, and y/n just walked away. She looked pretty upset.” Todoroki responds. Bakugo’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach, did his words really affect you this much?
“Like I care.” His words betray his heart, “I’m going to bed.”
He unzips the tent and crawls into his sleeping bag. Unfortunately for him it’s a restless night, filled with tossing and turning, and feeling regretful for his heart fleeing so far.
The next afternoon, the entire class spends the day hanging out by the lake. Some of the class is playing beach volleyball, a few people are swimming, some others are tanning on the sand and then there's you, making a point of talking to every guy in the class besides him. 
He pretends not to notice the way you laugh at nearly everything Denki says to you, he ignores the fact that you asked Ojiro to help you get some more towels for the rest of the class, he tries to forget the hug you gave Sero after he scored the winning point in the volleyball match.
However, the one thing he cannot get over is that he knows you are doing all of this because of him, it’s his own fault, he thinks the torture is deserving. But what he doesn’t deserve is that you look so good hurting him. The sun brings out the color in your cheeks, the bikini top and shorts you are wearing compliments your skin and you look happy, being around everyone other than him. 
The rest of the day is spent in agony, and it follows him even when his head hits the pillow. He can't stop thinking, his thoughts are running rampant. So, he sneaks out of the tent, trying not to wake up Kirishima and walks over to the dock. He sits down and takes a deep breath. He looks at where the darkness of the sky and the lake meet. It isn’t hard to see because of the soft glow the moon is casting overhead.
He is left there, sitting with his thoughts, trying to find some sort of solace when he hears the creaking wooden floorboards behind him. He probably woke Kirishima in the process of leaving, and he knows the red head is too good of a friend to not go searching for him.
“Hey.” He hears, but it’s coming from a voice much to feminine to be Kirishimas, he sees you lowering yourself to sit next to him, your feet are dangling above the water, and you lean back on the palms of your hands, “What are you doing out here?” “Nothin’.” He sighs, he doesn’t have the heart to say why. All you do is hum in response and look out at the lake with him. Just for a second there’s a comforting silence between the two of you, but it is soon disrupted when his chest starts feeling tight and violent butterflies swarm his gut. 
His heart rate is picking up and he’s starting to sweat, but he knows the sun isn’t to blame this time. It's you. The only one capable of making him feel like this. It’s intense and anxiety inducing, and he can’t imagine there will ever be a day where this goes away. He needs to get rid of it, so he thinks a swift confession and quick rejection will be the remedy.
“y/n.” He starts with your name, easy and familiar, the sound draws your eyes to his own, “I’m gonna tell you something and-and it’s okay if you don’t say what I want to hear or if you have nothing to say at all.” 
Your eyes go wide, and he gives you a hard look, he lets out a deep breath and finally unravels is heart like he has been wanting to do for so long now
“I don’t know how or when it started, but every time I see you, I want to see you more. I like seeing you smile, but I really like it when it’s because of me. Your determined, smart and so fucking pretty that even a complete idiot could see it.” He lets out a deep breath and his eyes are covered with a glassy sheen, all you do is look at him, “And I know you don’t feel the same, but I needed to say it so you can put an end to this feeling that I have every time I'm around you.”
“Bakugo…” You say his name and the corners of your lips are turning up, “You actually feel that way about me? This isn’t a joke?”
“Why the hell would I joke about this?” He scoffs, turning away from you and back towards the lake.
“I don’t know. Maybe, maybe it's because I feel the same way and always thought it was unrequited.” You say, and that gets him to look at you again, he’s really hoping this isn’t some sick joke, “I think you're really nice. You always hold the door open for me, you took a hit for me on our mission, and you-you once told me something I really needed to hear, and it changed my perspective on so many things. You make me feel valued.”
He thinks of those examples, he remembers all of them so clearly. He never had to think about doing anything for you, it’s automatic, he likes making you happy. So, when he grabs your face with his hands and brings the pair of your lips together, he also hopes this makes you happy. 
Your lips are soft and plush, unmoving. He is testing out the waters between both of your feelings now, trying to mend them together with one simple act. He pulls away. Your face is still being held in his hands, and yours are on his wrists. He looks at your expression and you are fully smiling, all because of him, his heart swells in his chest.
The feeling he now describes as butterflies in his gut never ceases, but he learns to like it because he is with you, and he now knows you feel like that when you are with him as well. 
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visit my: masterlist
a/n: I am so sorry for the delay on getting this fic released, I expected it to be a lot shorter and I got so busy I just couldn’t find the time for it. However, I hope you enjoyed this read ! 
sidenote: I also head cannon this to be an alternate universe to my fic Only Ones Who Know.
taglist:  @mysideeffectsofyou 
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etherati · 9 months
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Belmont crest and colorrrrssss
I have a lot of thoughts and feels about the colors used in various versions of the Belmont crest in the netflix show, and how it fits into traditional heraldry. I have decided to make that everyone else's problem. So.
In Leon's portrait, we see him in a surcoat of white with the Belmont crest rendered in azure blue.
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In traditional heraldry the "white" component of this would be synonymous with the metal silver/argent, as matte white was not a meaningful color choice and all colors had to be combined with a metal (silver or gold) rather than another color. Now, I know that in the Doylesian sense, this color choice was made because of Leon's original character design, which utilized different tradition imagery and had nothing to do with the Belmonts specifically:
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But the text is what it is and the show gave us the first Belmont in an azure and argent version of the Belmon crest. Color meanings vary depending on your source, but azure typically referred to truth, loyalty, and unwavering morality. Morality is, of course, a construct--you can imagine that for the rebellious ex-church-knight Belmont it probably had some input from the bible but moreso was informed by his own oath--to "battle the night". Yeah, this gets made fun of--he's the dumbass who wants to fight an entire time of day--but we know what he means, ok. He's swearing to defend the daylight world against the things in the night that would harm it. He is defining his moral position going forward very specifically--he will uphold humanity and destroy that which would cause it harm. In a fic of mine he described it as representing the daylight sky, which given that he's a vampire in that fic carries even more poignancy, but even in the canon version it works, because that is the moral field he is aligning with.
Meanwhile argent/silver generally refers to purity, sincerity, and faith, which yeah, this is definitely a character who has purity of purpose. This combination of colors suits a vision of the Belmonts that served humanity unerringly, who had faith even when the church itself seemed flawed, who defined their morality by the divide between daylight and night and executed it with sincerity and dedication.
Fast forward to Trevor's time. The family has risen and fallen. At its height it was considered a great noble family--a warrior dynasty, as Alucard put it. Trevor's tunic and his armor both bear the crest in gold; once we're in the hold, we see that it's set against a deep burgundy in the official banners and standards. 
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Why the change? What does it mean? Red is obvious--it's the warrior side of them, the military might, the weight of generations of fighters and all the blood they've spilt. It's the most common color in heraldry because conflict and war were themselves so common, but the Belmonts (to our knowledge) weren't besieging neighboring Lords' territories. They defined themselves by their fight against the creatures of the night, defined themselves to the point that they became The Fight. The warrior is the largest part of their identity. In the same fic I had Trevor say that the red represented family to him, like bloodlines, which is not the traditional meaning--but given that nothing defined his family or his relationship with them as much as The Fight, I still think he was onto something. Additionally, red can carry the meaning of sacrifice and martyrdom, which also fucking fits, unfortunately.
As for the gold, usually this refers to faithfulness, nobility, constancy, and glory. On its own, it's a statement of those qualities--particularly nobility and faithfulness. Combined with warrior's red, the glory piece of it starts to assert itself. A family of martyrs and warriors, noble and glorious--that's how they saw themselves, anyway. The family had gotten so far up its own ass that it cared more about perpetuating those ideals and standards than it necessarily did about the original purpose and duty of its existence! Eventually Trevor re-finds that purpose, when he drops the cloak in Gresit and re-dedicates himself to protecting the people--but it's worth noting that the crest he displays in that moment is gold alone, without a specific colored field. The version of the Belmonts that defined themselves by the amount of blood they'd shed are dead and buried, their flags tattered; the one who survived has taken their steadfastness, their faithfulness and constancy and nobility, and managed to reconnect it to what they always should have been.
Which brings us full circle, back to Leon's portrait--because there's another crest, there.
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Azure and gold. All the steady dedication of a long standing nobility--much less fragile than one man's personal purity of purpose--applied to moral defense of humanity and the daylight world, rather than simply to fighting and glory for its own sake. There's a reason this is the color scheme I plan for Leon to end up in, in my fic-verse, and is the one that I think may have been in between the other two, chronologically. It conveys all the Belmonts are meant to be and do, without reducing them to simply violence. They fight, not for the fight's sake, but to protect the people they've sworn to protect.
Anyway. Yeah. Uh, colors!
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slaymitchabernathy · 1 month
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Terrible & Tall
Coriolanus Snow might be a terrible man capable of terrible things, but at least he’s tall.
And he loves being taller than her.
He didn’t realize what he had was considered a “size kink” until he’d heard one of his friends talking about. It was the perfect way to describe it.
He loves towering over her, knowing that he can always look over her shoulder, grab what she needs from the biggest shelf. He thinks it’s so fucking cute how she has to get up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.
But it’s not just his height that he loves. It’s the fact that he’s just bigger than her. He supposes some of it stems from his need to protect her from the dangers of the world.
Panem is a dangerous place after all.
Knowing he can easily shield her body with his own comforts him and it’s something he’d do without question.
But he loves being able to lay on top of her body, completely deadweight and know that she physically can’t move him. His muscle mass trumps her, his body weight also trumps her. He’s simply stronger.
She likes it too. Likes when he comes up behind her and wraps his big strong arms around her body, easily picking her up. Picking her up is probably his favorite thing to do. Whether it be sexual or playful he always wears a smirk.
If he’s being playful then he’ll spin her around, listen to her giggle as she chides him and whines to be put down. Even though they both know she doesn’t want to be put down. And heaven forbid her feet ever hurt from walking in those heels. Coriolanus has scooped her up one too many times, slinging her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing.
If he’s being sexual then it’s an entirely different story. He loves picking her up when she’s being a little brat. She might think she has the upper hand and for the most part he lets her think that. But when it’s time to teach her a lesson he wastes no time in grabbing her by the waist, ignoring her jabs or kicks.
He’ll throw her onto the bed, his body on top of hers in an instant, holding her down with his sheer body weight. She’ll try to push herself up, get him off her back but they both know she can’t. He’ll bite the shell of her ear while he chuckles, “You know you can’t fight back doll,” he’ll say, wrapping his large hands around her small waist.
That’s another thing he loves. How big his hands are. She loves his hands. Loves holding them, loves playing with them and the rings he wears. But she loves them the most when they’re buried in her cunt. The way they stretch her out makes her let out the sweetest sounds. She can’t get enough.
He likes wrapping his hands around her neck, watching her eyes get that far away look in them, nearly glazing over. He also likes grabbing her waist, in public it’s to keep her close to him, can’t have her wandering off. He’ll do it at galas, letting everyone know she belongs to him.
In the bedroom it’s a bit different. If she’s riding him— a rare occasion — he’ll wrap both hands around her waist to gain back some control, set the pace she’s going at. If she’s lying on her back then he loves to grab her waist while he pounds into that sweet little cunt of hers, squeezing it harder when he gets close. When he fucks her from behind he grabs her waist and pulls her tight cunt back onto his cock over and over again until she’s crying.
His cock is large too. Something he’s quite proud of. He loves watching her take it over and over again, knowing she can’t do anything about it. She has to be his good girl. He loves watching her eyes get teary after so many rounds, her cunt so sore but yet so willing to take it. When he fucks her from behind he can see how tightly her walls wrap around him, barely able to take all of him. She’ll whine and cry about it, how she’ll be so sore in the morning.
He loves it most when he fucks her stupid. She loves it too. Loves when he’s grabbing her waist and pounding into her so fucking hard that she can’t even spell her own name. He loves fucking her while she’s on her back, getting to see her little face so dumb with pleasure. He’ll smirk when he sees her stomach bulging and make her watch it. She gets so flustered whenever she sees it. He’ll tease her, taunt her, all while pulling her back onto his cock over and over again.
“So pretty for me baby. You like being on my cock? Aren’t you my good girl, taking it so well? Look how dumb you already look, all you can think of is me hmm? This is where you belong, stuck on my cock, taking my cum like the good fuckdoll you are. You’re gonna give me one more right? Gonna lie there and take it.”
He loves how perfectly she fits into him. Fits into his lap, his hands, his arms, his hold.
They’re both aware that he isn’t perfect. That his temper gets the best of him and then him being so big isn’t fun for her anymore. It’s hard to fight back against someone twice your size. All she can do is lie there and take it until he’s gotten his frustrations out.
Then he’ll try to be kind. Be gentle. A gentle giant.
Coriolanus Snow is anything but gentle.
| tumblr oneshot/drabble |
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ride-a-dromedary · 7 months
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#also *is* it canon that he’s like 7ft at least?? bc he has to be#average elf height is 6ft I know this bc. yknow. I’ve read the elf parts of the 5e descriptions#and iirc bg3 moooooostly follows that#so everybody saying ‘oh Halsin is 6ft tall’ THATS NOT EVEN TALL FOR AN ELF THAT IS AVERAGE
@whatever-man-whatever I have been summoned!!
The short answer is no; Halsin's height has not been canonically confirmed in game as far as I'm aware (though I would be a little dodgy if it was anyway, and you'll see why in a moment, but mainly due to the fact that because Halsin is still considered a medium creature, as an elf, the game lists his weight as 75KG - look me DIRECTLY in the eye and tell me that man is 165lbs). And, as far as I am aware, there hasn't been any confirmation of his height from Larian either (though I am happy to be corrected if they have).
But you know whose height has been canonically confirmed? Astarion's. And you know that that leads to? The long answer, which is: logical approximation time with yours truly.
Larian tweeted Astarion's height as being 5'9" in 2021:
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Which is slightly contradicted by the fact that, when playing as a Gith character in the full release, you can choose the option to describe Astarion literally to him when he asks:
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Which - while understandably says 'approximately', so it is just a logical guess on Tav's part - obviously contradicts what Larian indicated previously by implying he's 5'11". Likely this was changed in the two years, or just tossed out there as a joke, or genuinely just mixed up (but I much prefer the 'gith count hair as height or are just not very good at height estimation' and @winter2468's theory that Astarion just wears lifts in his shoes).
However, what this does give us is a point of reference, with the possible height range of Astarion (and I suppose by extension the lithe elf body type in player characters) being somewhere between 5'9" and 5'11" (both a little on the taller side of the average for an Elf in 5e descriptions, but very tall for - say - 3e descriptions).
Now, this has to be taken with a grain of salt because all of the smaller male body types are the same height, so a visual doesn't necessarily say TOO much, however:
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(Note that this is the two of them standing side by side in their idle pose, which means they are balancing weight on one of their hips, cocking it to the side. Astarion's idle pose also has him lifting his chin considerably, which makes him look a little taller. These both affect the measurement slightly but bear with me. I have also made an estimation as to where Astarion's skull would actually begin in relation to the bouffant of his hair)
So what this immediately tells me is that Halsin cannot be only 6ft - he stands significantly taller than an individual who is allegedly between 5'9" and 5'11"
A few more for good measure:
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(The left bottom image is Astarion standing straighter with Halsin still bent at the knee - I have also noted that Halsin's left shoulder slopes lower than his right when standing idly)
So it's evident, by visual average, Astarion stands pretty consistently at about Halsin's shoulder. The only times they don't stand at this same relation in height difference is in character sheet screens (and level up screens by extension):
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Which is what I meant by a little dodgy in visual base, so for the sake of this we'll keep outside of menus.
The average height between the shoulder and the top of a head is approximately 1 ft (with of course variations of neck length and head size in between, but let's stick with average for ease)
THEREFORE - if it looks to be that Astarion stands pretty consistently at the height of Halsin's shoulder, give or take an inch or two, Halsin is approximately about a foot taller than he is. And if Halsin is about a foot taller than he is, and Astarion's canonical height sits somewhere in the range of 5'9" - 5'11", that leads to reason that Halsin stands at somewhere in the range of 6'9" - 6'11".
(The other source of this conclusion is that I feel it in my heart that Halsin is pushing 7ft because I reason his height would need to be significantly above average for everyone to make a comment on it)
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