#i like the gloves and chest pieces and the shoulders with the medium chest give a nice look

[vriibot]

he looks pretty good in the pyre watch style

#i do NOT like the shoes that red trim is ew #i like the gloves and chest pieces and the shoulders with the medium chest give a nice look #fennorian #eso #in game cosplay #i tried gold to match the chest piece circle but i think grey looked better #i DO NOT have the chest piece so hes stuck in the station #i wish outfit slots were NOT $15 PER character wtf #so i could give him a silly slot #im just saying the gloves the sleeves? its got a fenn kinda look to it

[sweatandwoe]

Butter

When you volunteered for the state fair, you didn't realize what you were getting into...

Butter Sculptor!Viktor x Fem!Reader!

Tags: Viktor being a bit of a creep, Lots of butter, misuse of butter, butter kink(?kinda), Suggestive but not NSFW, shitpost but also not Wordcount: 1k plus

-

When you volunteered for the state fair, you had thought it would've been outside. Helping set up stands, lines, painting some old equipment, or setting up some of the faux buildings.

Not to be sitting in a cold room, with windows peering in at you from behind. Luckily no one was viewing this section yet, not for a few days.

It was for a good cause, you reminded yourself. Bringing joy to your community and helping an overall feeling of togetherness.

You just wish the room wasn't so cold, and that you had worn a proper bra.

Or really just more layers. The room was cold and you were glad your back was facing the windows and not your front. Still you kept your arms crossed over your chest, just in case.

You observe the sculptures around the room. One is of a horse, another of a sailboat, and the third was of some amphibian creature curling in on itself. All were beautifully crafted... in butter.

You weren't sure why that medium was used for this sort of artwork, but hey you weren't about to judge it.

Finally, after waiting for so long, a man enters the room. Tall, with a cane to lean on as he walks, wearing a thick hoodie, some gloves and a pair of snow pants. Beautiful golden eyes and a timid smile are what greet you first, before he speaks. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, one of my associates was having an issue with one of the giant axolotls. Rio needs my touch to calm down sometimes."

Giant axolotls? You blink, but offer a smile in return, not dropping your arms. "That's alright! Gives me a break out of the heat." You lie, because well, he's a bit cute. And maybe cute enough he would be worth freezing your tits off.

"Still, I apologize, Miss." His golden eyes roam over your face, and the smile crinkles his eyes more. "I'm Viktor, I will be sculpting your beautiful face today."

You blink at the compliment, but it's not entirely bad you suppose. "Thank you, Viktor." You offer your own name. "Have you done any human sculptures before?"

"No, just objects and Rio one time." Golden eyes glance under long eyelashes. "But with such a gorgeous model, I'm sure to capture every detail."

You aren't sure what to say to that at all, except an awkward:"Thank you?"

He smiles, and it's like that comment was gone from your memory. The red glasses were on over your eyes, as you watch him remove his gloves and draw up a large mound of butter. The cane rests against the table he's sculpting on.

Viktor starts to work. Cutting away large chunks, until the shape is closer to your own head. Eyeing you for a few moments before he cuts off a piece.

Which shouldn't be weird, but he was eyeing you for a lengthy amount of time. At one point even for almost two minutes.

And then he asked you to lower your arms. "I'd rather not."

"Please?" His shoulders slump, lips lips pursing slightly. "It will just help the sculpture appear more natural."

"It's just-"

"Yes?"

You take your lower lip between your teeth, bite it for a moment while he watches enraptured. Letting go, you sigh. "It's rather... cold in this room."

Viktor tilts his head. "Yes?"

Okay, so he didn't understand. With a sigh, you lower your arms, revealing how your nipples also knew it was cold. "Just very cold in here."

Viktor seems even colder than you now, with how he suddenly freezes up. His lips part, but not to speak, he starts to breathe a little through his mouth. Golden eyes bulging slightly out of his skull, but when you move to cover your chest once again, he begins to shake his head rapidly.

"No, please don't." He swallows so thickly, that across the room you can see his throat bob. "You look so natural. Are they-" He cuts himself off, and turning red, looks back to the butter sculpture.

The red glasses were beginning to slide down your nose. Viktor breathing so heavily on the butter, it began to melt. In fact he was beginning to smooth out below your face with his fingers, and it looked like he was fondling it.

Fondling mounds of butter. Strikingly similar in size to your own mounds.

Okay yeah, red glasses were off, folded in your purse and you were now even more aware with how he was just staring at you. Hands dripping with butter, cupping your butter priests and rubbing them slowly. Dipping his thumbs over where your nipples would be, circling them.

Dear Janna, he was not doing that right? But no, he was. So heavily that the butter was melting enough that your 'head' feel off of your 'neck'. It didn't scatter across the floor, but one side had fallen in a splat against it.

He was still holding onto your butter breasts. "Viktor?"

Golden eyes blink, and he draws his hands away. They are slick with oil, and covered in little piece of the pale spread. "Yes?"

You stand up, hugging yourself. "I think I need a break now. A bit too cold."

"I could-"

"Viktor, please." You meant it to come out condescending, and maybe it was, but Viktor's pupils blow wide. And then you can see what you hope is a stick of butter in his pants. Dear Janna, let it be butter. "Viktor you've got-"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His face is turning red, when he glances down to himself. "It'll go down soon, I think."

You could believe it wasn't butter, with how it was even visible through snow pants. And that had a few own nasty thoughts running through your brain."I think I'm going to speak with Mr. Vander now." And you take a few steps to the door, only for Viktor to grab you with a slick hand, almost letting your wrist slip out.

"I'm so sorry!" He says loudly, looking honestly more apologetic now. "I-I don't deal with people. This is my first time doing another person's sculpture. Vander's idea."

He looks near tears, and so you can maybe take a little pity on him. "I won't tell, Vander. But you can't pop a boner just because you're doing their sculpture."

"I'm so sorry about that." The man is so embarrassed, red face and looking decently shameful. "I really didn't mean to. You're just very pretty, and I wasn't expecting your..." he trails off, gesturing to your breasts and looking away this time.

You sigh, moving to rub your temples, but after he continues to look so miserable for a moment, you offer half a smile. "I guess both of our bodies were just having natural reactions."

"I'm really, so sorry about this. And about how I was acting with the sculpture. I don't know where my head was at."

You hum, you hadn't brought that up, but you were glad he recognized his behaviour. And well, he was really cute, you decided as the rose colored glasses slide back on. "Maybe I'll come back tomorrow and we can try then?"

He looks uncertain, before he offers a weak smile. "Can I buy you some cotten candy at least, tomorrow? Before you come in?"

"Cotten candy is a very good bribe." You confess, smiling. "Just no more inappropriate behaviours."

"No more." He vows, looking far happier. "And please yell at me if I do."

"I will." You eye the mound on the floor. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

"No. Please, I don't want to make you uncomfortable." And soon with enough gestures, you were out the door. Walking down the steps after a minute of trying to decide if you would come back to see butter boy tomorrow, you turn to glance at him through the display window.

Only to see Viktor with his pants around his ankles, one buttery hand pressed to the door where you had left and the other flicking his wrist rapidly.

He turns slightly, and you could see he wasn't any butter boy with that manhood.

Yeah, you were definitely going to come back tomorrow and let him butter your biscuits.

-

Author's note: I wanna say I'm sorry, but I'm really not. Please feel free to yell at me in asks/replies, but it might fuel me to do it again

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane #arcane x reader

[metropoliseaten]

Image Description: Two images each comprised of six photographs of the same tall, light-skinned person. Each photo corresponds to a month edited onto the photograph.

January is a mirror selfie of me, smiling at the camera. I have a very fluffy bleach-blond undercut with chin-length ear tails and am wearing a black coat and shirt.

February is a full-body photograph. I have a closely shaved head and a neutral expression, posed on one knee, arm leaning against my other knee. I am wearing a black off-the-shoulder sweater and a red plaid skirt above sparkly black tights and shiny platform boots, in addition to a spiked choker and black and red lipstick.

March is a photograph of me from the hips up, wearing a gray and black flannel open over a lacy red bra, and black jeans with a white belt. The flannel has white lace on the hems.

April is a photograph taken of me from above, lying on a bench on my back as a black-and-white goat stands on my chest and sniffs my face. My hair is very short and dyed red, and I am wearing a black hoodie with metal spikes at the cuffs and edge of the hood.

May is a selfie taken in a theater with tall brick walls. It shows me from the chest up, giving a peace sign to the camera with a neutral expression. I am wearing a black face mask with a silver chain, black button-down shirt, and a black blazer with an elaborate metal cross upside-down at the lapel.

June is another selfie. My hair is longer, and a more vibrant red, matching the red sleeves of my raglan shirt, with a diving hawk embroidered on it. I now have a double eyebrow piercing on the right side of my face. I am wearing silver dangly earrings.

July is a photograph of me from the knees up. I now have a short red bihawk haircut. I am wearing a black sailor-style top over a blue fishnet shirt, black cargo pants, and a black belt. I am wearing a necklace with a medium-sized charm.

August is a selfie taken at an angle, showing me from the chest up, looking down at the viewer. I am wearing a white button-down under a black sweater with holes in it. There is a button with the ICP logo on my lapel. I am wearing a black mask, spiderweb earrings, and angular red-tinted glasses with a silver chain. There is a sugar skull temporary tattoo on my neck.

September is a mirror selfie. I am wearing a choppy black wig with a green streak, black t-shirt with a scrabble graphic, purple tie tied around my neck, and a black and white flannel. Additionally, I am wearing black pants with a checkerboard belt, green fishnet gloves, and a spiked wristband.

October is another selfie. I am wearing a white bob wig, cut at an extreme angle, black mask, and the same red raglan shirt as in June. I am also wearing a black choker with multiple silver o-rings at the front and a necklace in the shape of barbed wire.

November is a mirror selfie. My hair is longer and more scraggly. I am wearing black sunglasses shaped like dripping hearts, a black jacket, and a green and black striped shirt, in addition to black cargo pants. I have a rosary made of black beads. The connector piece is a soda tab.

December is a selfie taken in a full-length mirror. I am wearing a black suit and black button-down shirt, in addition to shiny black platform boots. My face mask, tie, and belt are all bright orange, and my hair is swept over my head to the side. End Image Description.

2021 selfie year in review lol! Mutuals can reblog <3

#teethcore

[writteninkat]

i - your grandma must have been strong

word count: 2,007

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

index

You zipped your last luggage closed, huffing tiredly as you stood up. You looked around you- your empty room, your plain, pink walls that were once decorated with many posters and pictures, your floor that was once covered by a big fluffy white rug and some clothes and stuffed toys.

You sigh, smiling. You were surely going to miss this place. Your back tingles as you turn around to see your mother leaning on the door frame, looking at you with sad eyes.

"Do you have to go?" Her voice is soft and calming- it always has been. She's the only person who could ever calm you down especially when your father left the two of you to work at the Heroes Association in Japan.

"I want to be able to protect people. Children, women, the elderly... I wanna be someone people can depend on. Someone you can depend on." You place a hand on her arm which she covers with her own, he warm palm along with her soft smile about to send you to tears.

She nods, walking inside your room to help with your baggage. "The movers just finished loading up your other stuff. All we need is your excess baggage." She pushes the luggage towards the door, you mirroring her actions.

She cups both of your cheeks, looking you at you with adoring, glassy eyes. It's your first time being separated from your mother in you sixteen years of existence. The two have always been attached to the hip, you traveled everywhere together, even as the two of you had constant arguments you could never stay mad at each other for too long.

She was the only one you had.

"Stay safe in Japan, okay? If your father gave you a hard time, call me. I'll pick you up no matter what time it is, no matter where you are. I love you." She kisses your forehead and you finally let your tears fall as you wrap your hands around her thing wrists.

"I love you so much mom." You sob, hanging your head as your mother wrapped her arms around you. You hear a voice of a woman through the speakers, telling you your flight was taking off in a few minutes.

You quickly give your mother a kiss on the cheek before letting one of your guards assist you with your bags. You waved good bye to your mom and soon after, your trusted body guard.

You were on your way to Japan, to a new life, a new school, new friends and hopefully to reach your new goal: to prove yourself worthy of becoming a hero without your father's help.

You walk towards the giant gates of UA, taking a deep breath before finally taking a step inside the campus. Your heart thumped on your chest nervously as your palms began to prespire. You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to do anything with the teens around you as your only goal was to pass the entrance exam. You walked inside the building you were lead to, taking a seat at the very back in fear of attracting any unwanted attention.

"What's up UA candidates?! Thanks for tuning into me your school DJ! Just as your application said, today you will be conducting your exams in seven different locations! Your location has been assigned to you in the paper you were given." The loud blond man with long hair swept way to the back of his head announced, making you click your tongue. Not to be a mood buster, but isn't he being a little too loud?

You take the piece of paper he was talking about, eyes lower to read the letter that's written on it. Test Location: Battle Center C.

"Excuse me sir but I have a question." Your eyes fall to a purple-headed boy with glasses whose hand is raised. The blond teacher acknowledges him and he begins talking about how there are four villains in the paper you were given and not only three.

He then begins running his mouth about how a minor mistake such as this would be an embarrassment for a school such as UA. You scoff, muttering something about having a stick up his ass.

After the teacher ended his speech, you along with the other students began piling out of the room and to your designated battle centers. As you enter your specified location, you take out the black leather gloves from your pocket, wearing them. You clenched and unclenched your hands to make sure that it fit you well.

"Hey grandma." An unfamiliar voice catches your attention, unfortunately for you the rude nickname was directed towards you.

"Grandma?" You raise a brow, unsure what he meant by it.

"You white hair reminds me of my grandma's." He snickers, pointing at the white streaks of hair you have beside either sides of your face as a few other students chuckling behind him. He looks plain, very, very boring. "Why don't you give up on this exam, grandma? Your knees may start hurting."

The signal went off and the robots began moving behind you. As you kept a straight face, your hands begin glowing a blinding white light as a black with blue and silver accent claymore appears in your hands. You run to your left, applying your speed quirk as you ran towards the gigantic robots, swinging your sword vertically.

The slash creates the same blinding white light, the robots, the buildings and concrete ground that the light touches all disintegrating into nothing. You speed into the other robots, stealing the targets of other students as you accumulated your points. Once you finish and only a few robots are left, you return to your spot to where the plain-looking boy along with his little friends were still standing at, jaws hanging eyes blown wide.

"You grandma must have been very strong."

"I got in." You say into your phone and you hear your mother squeal in delight from the other end of the line. A smile breaks into your face and you feel your phone vibrate, signaling a new notification. As you pull your phone away to see what it is, your eyes widen in surprise as you read your notification banner.

'Mom' sent you $100.

"Mom what the heck is the money for?" You chuckle. "I'm not there with you but I want you to celebrate getting into UA. So go use the money and spoil yourself."

"Mom you don't have to-"

"Okay, mom mode off. I demand you go and award yourself eith the money I sent you." Your mom's tone switches from soft and caring to cold and demanding, making you chuckle. "That doesn't suit you at all." You laugh, you can practically /hear/ your mom pout at the other line.

"Okay, okay. I'll do as you say. Thank you, mom. I love you."

"I love you more my baby."

The call ends and you change out of your usual sweats and oversized tee. You put on a black spaghetti strap and high-wasted mom jeans. You hoop in a black belt and fold the ankles of your pants to show your white sock inside your checkered vans. You finish the look with medium-sized hoop earrings and a oversized red zip-up jacket which you leave unzipped with one shoulder hanging off.

You step out of your apartment, pocketing your keys and taking a deep breath in. Japan is just so beautiful, the scenery, the buildings, even the weather was perfect. You strut down your apartment building, scrolling through your phone as you searched for cafes nearby. It was a five minute walk of calm and relaxing vibes. You step into the cafe, eyes darting around the adorable cottage-core aesthetic it had going.

"Hey my name is Mio. What can I get for you this lovely afternoon?" The cashier beams brightly, your day becoming better and better with every move you make. "I'll have a strawberry shortcake as well as a strawberr frappe with extra foam, strawberry syrup and strawberries." You beam back at her and she takes your order with a bright smile, tapoing away on the computer's screen.

"Does your life depend on strawberries or something?" A rough and deep voice asks behind you, causing you to turn around. Once you do, your eyes widen at the sight of a young blond with vermilion eyes. He looked around your age.

"I like strawberries. Is it that big of a sin?" You ask, soft smile across your face as you cross your arms together. The guy had such piercing eyes, those red orbs looked like they could trap you in them forever.

"Not what I'm saying, but if you're that much of a strawberry fan, I recommend their strawberry pop tarts." His eyes drop to the display fridge beside you and your eyes follow his, landing on the adorable little tarts with red jam on top of them.

Just as you were about to order them, the cashier speaks up. "Your total is 1,500 yen." She smiles brightly, making you pout. You didn't want to cause more trouble for her seeing as your bill has already been printed by the machine.

You scan their QR code, paying virtually as she hands you your buzzer. "We'll give you a signal whrn your order is ready. You can find a seat and wait there thank you!"

You turn around at the blond who's looking at you expectantly, "I guess I'll have to try your recommendation some other time." You smile at him, walking off to the table catering two chairs. It was seated at the far back of the cafe, away from the many customers the cafe had.

You began scrolling through your social media, liking the posts of your past classmates and chuckling at some memes you saw.

A plate full of the same tarts with red jam is placed on your white table and you didn't have to look to see who it was. "Is this you way of flirting with me, rubies?" You ask, looking up at him with a teasing, smug smile. His face contorts into annoyance, "Hah? Flirting with you?" He scoffs, "Not a chance. And who're you calling rubies?"

"Your eyes remind me of rubies. They're pretty."

The blond's face relaxes and you push the seat across from you, silently telling him to sit down. He does as 'told', huffing as he watches you pick of a tart and bring it over to your lips. You bite on it, eyes widening as the flavor explodes in your mouth. It tastes sweet but not the sickeningly sweet kind, it's soft soft in the inside and lightly crunchy on the outside.

"You look like you just ate food made by gods." He chuckles, "You look dumb."

"But it really does taste so good!" You've never felt this much excitement since you found out you got into UA. And that speaks a lot given that you've only ever felt this kind of feeling with your mom.

"I should have bought the entire stock if I knew you liked it that much." Your heart skipped at his words. What is this feeling? You felt nervous all of a sudden, you can barely contain your smile and somehow, you didn't want to go home yet. This is a very new feeling for you. It's kind of... scary.

"I'm L/n."

Idiot. Stop it.

"L/n Y/n." You extend your hand towards him which he looks at for a few moments before taking. You shake both of your hands with a soft smile, your thoughts going haywire at how soft his palms feel.

"Bakugou. Katsuki Bakugou."

You pull your hand away, finishing the last piece of strawberry pop tart on your plate before your buzzer turns on. You pick it up, standing up. "Thanks for the tarts. See you around, rubies."

"Call me that one more time and I'll blow your face up."

You snicker, smirking. "Whatever you say, rubies."

#bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #mha bakugou #bakugou bios #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou x fem!reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bakugou fluff

[autumnslance]

Seems we get a brief breather between parts 1 and 2 of 5.5, so Aeryn's snagging her man so they can take care of one another post infiltration and combat. Just two adventurers cleaning up together. The rating actually remains in "older T" levels. You'll see why.

Below the cut on Tumblr for those who prefer this medium: ----

After the hearty dinner their colleagues set out, the senior Scions dispersed. Y’shtola, Urianger, and G’raha vanished to the library to discuss the Hydaelyn theories. Tataru offered to show Estinien his new room with the twins opting to tag along, for better or worse. Aeryn snagged Thancred’s coat before he could leave the dining area. He raised a brow and glanced about as she tugged gently, encouraging him to follow her. No one seemed to pay them much mind, so he did not fight being drawn along.

“Have a plan?” Thancred asked as they headed down the hall leading to the various senior Scions’ rooms.

Aeryn shrugged. “Nothing specific. Mostly I’ve missed you and we seem to have a moment.”

He drew her into an embrace, backwards against his chest. They both still smelled of levin-burnt sand and grimy sweat, tinged with the coppery tang of blood. But her viola hairpiece was also mingled in, familiar and comforting, and he let out a deep sigh he felt he’d been holding for weeks. “I’ve missed you as well.” He leaned closer to her ear to murmur, “I’ve perhaps been thinking of the various ways I intend to show just how much I’ve missed you once we’ve cleaned up.”

She giggled and he could see her expected blush as she leaned into the embrace before stepping away. “Sounds as if you think to get dirty again .”

He grinned. “It’s certainly been a thought, if you’re amenable.” Thancred paused as they came to her door. “I need to stow my gear and check on a certain rodent, lest we be interrupted by squeaky indignation later.”

“Come in when you’ve cleaned up and seen to your other girlfriend,” she teased, giving him a wink before turning away.

“On second thought,” he said, overwhelmed by the idea of Aeryn vanishing behind the door. “I’ll risk nutkin wrath and come in now.”

“You know you’re asking for it,” Aeryn said, keeping her door open for him.

Thancred shrugged, propping his gunblade on the stand by the entrance as he stepped inside. “We played and I lavished all sorts of affection on the little tyrant when Urianger and I were here naught but two days ago, it’ll be fine.” Maybe. His pet had been rather clingy since Thancred had awoken to his body after his time on the First.

Thoughts of the nutkin scattered as soon as the door locked, allowing them to fall against each other, Aeryn’s hands gripping his lapels, his hands in her hair and on the small of her back, pulling them into a long kiss and gods he had been needing that. They had had no time to themselves, not even a brief stolen moment, since his return from Garlemald. The closest they had come was leaning on each other for a brief nap on the airship returning from Paglth’an to Ul’dah.

But now here she was; solid, warm, soft in all the right places, and as tense as she normally was after such adventures—and when worried for a friend. They broke the kiss, both sighing with content as their foreheads rested against each other.

“You’re tense,” she murmured, pushing his coat off.

“Was about to say the same of you.” He let her remove it to hang by the doorframe. It needed a good wash and repairs after fighting through Paglth’an, not to mention a few weeks scouting in Garlemald; there hadn’t been time for proper maintenance the brief times he had returned to the Stones over the last few days. He dropped his gloves behind her so he could slide his palms over her form until he found the buttons and fastens for her own coat, hanging it next to his once he had it off her.

Aeryn started unhooking his belts and harnesses. He thought of protesting, but the weight of his gear was suddenly noticeable as his ammunition, daggers, the holster he kept healing potions and unguents, and various other pouches of practical supplies, were hung on hooks or placed on the nearby desk.

Thancred fought the urge to lean on the wall to turn to her, doing the same with her sword belt, supply pouches, the tie she wore with that coat. He was about to unbutton her shirt, but she was unhooking his armor, and he helped remove his chest piece, feeling lighter—and weary and aching, now that it wasn’t holding him up.

“You’ve a lot of bruising,” Aeryn said, already working on removing his undershirt as she frowned, noting every wince and flinch he made as her fingers traced over him. 

“Well, I was holding off magitek and dragons.” He tried to make it sound light, but he thought he sounded more snippy due to his tiredness. He forced his tone to sound gentler. “It’s after effects, really; Urianger saw to the worst of it already.”

Aeryn muttered the familiar incantation, the electric taste of wintry pine and icy mountain lakes accompanying her spell. The aching faded further, his remaining minor injuries progressing to a nearly healed stage. It was an improvement, and he told her so before kissing her again. His hands took advantage of the distraction to remove her blouse, watching her wince and flinch now as Thancred checked over her shoulders and arms, across her back and midsection, frowning at her cuts and bruises in turn. He tried reminding himself that some had been unavoidable, even with him standing between her and their enemies.

“Would that I could return the favor.” He bit down on the old frustration as she cast for herself under his gaze.

“It’s all ri—ight!” Aeryn yelped as he picked her up and turned to deposit her on her nearby desk, then knelt.

“Allow me to help with this instead,” Thancred said, finding the hidden fasteners on her tall boots before pulling them off. She sighed and flexed her toes, socks sweat-stained, perhaps blood stained too, given some of the discoloration. He pulled off her socks and began massaging her left foot, grinning as she released a small relieved moan and slumped a bit. All the flipping around she did couldn’t have been easy on her long, perfect legs, he often thought, working his way from her toes to her calf before moving on to her right foot.

“You’ll have to let me do the same for you. I know those greaves are heavy.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, knowing it was pointless to argue. Honestly, he was looking forward to it. He left a kiss just below her knee before he stood with a wince.

Aeryn slid off the desk, a hand on his chest, herding him to sit next to make good on that promise. Thancred sighed and allowed it, feeling better with his boots and socks off and grumbling relief as she massaged his limbs, checking his feet as he had hers.

“I could fall asleep like this,” he murmured. She finished her work and kissed the tip of his nose.

“Not before you get a bath,” Aeryn admonished. “Or shower, if you prefer; the reservoir’s heated and ready to go either way.”

“First things first.” Thancred stretched as he stood. He gestured at the vanity in her wash area. “Sit and pass me your hairbrush.”

Over the next several minutes he carefully, section by section, brushed out her fine locks, removing bands and pins and undoing the braids. Why she put it in such a complicated style was beyond him—though he had to admit it stayed more or less in place, and she seemed able to style it swiftly. Aeryn meanwhile enjoyed the attention, only hissing and flinching the few times he hit an unavoidable snag. Smoothed out, her hair fell past her shoulder blades. He drew his fingers through the black strands for the sheer pleasure of it.

“Want to wash it too?” She half-joked.

“Would be my pleasure. We have to finish getting you undressed first, though.”

“As if you’ve ever had problems with that,” Aeryn teased—even as he undid her brassiere.

“No idea what you mean,” Thancred said, leaving a kiss on the round of her shoulder while his fingers danced down her sides and then front to undo her pants.

Once they were both divested of their remaining clothing, he took her hand like a gentleman and helped her step into the tub. She fiddled with the levers on the shower head, making sure the water wasn’t too hot when it poured forth, rinsing away the grime and grit. They took turns washing each others’ hair and scrubbing backs and limbs. After the magical healing, there were still bruises on them both, but they looked days old instead of—gods, was it truly the same day? The sun had risen over the plains after all night fighting, then returning to Ul’dah, and finally home where it was evening again.

It had been a long handful of days.

Aeryn “mrf’d” as he rubbed her shoulders and back, the soap washed off but much of her tension remaining. He didn’t realize he was just as bad until she did the same for him, scrubbing his neck, shoulders, and back, continuing to massage as the warm water rained down. He forced himself to relax, or tried to at least. The temptation to fill the tub and lounge together was strong, but Thancred feared in their weary states they might fall asleep. Not that that would be a problem for Aeryn, given the Kojin blessing. He really ought to look into that for himself; it could be extremely useful.

They shut off the shower just as the crystal reservoir was running out and the water started to chill. Aeryn was quicker, snagging the biggest of the towels—which she wrapped around him, rubbing vigorously. “Gotcha.”

“My only complaint is you are the one dripping everywhere,” Thancred said, grabbing another towel. “All that hair first, then the rest of you.” He wrapped up her hair as she tucked his towel around his waist like a makeshift skirt, forcing him to find a third towel to wrap her in. It also put him in the perfect position to scoop her up, eliciting another surprised sound and giggle.

“I can walk, you know,” Aeryn said, nuzzling his neck. “And I know you’re tired.”

“Not too tired to spoil you what little you allow.” He carried her across the room and around the partition to her bed. He set her among the many pillows and blankets she kept there, pulling away the towels and dropping them to the side to be worried about later as he settled in beside her.

“Shouldn’t we be under the covers?” She feigned innocence as his hands roamed over her body. “And turn off the lights?”

“This would be part of the ‘get dirty again’ plan from earlier.”

“Ah, right; thought you’d forgotten.”

“As if I could.” Thancred denied further rejoinders with another kiss, this one hungrier than the others. Aeryn responded with an equal fervor, pressing closer to him with a shiver as his fingers found sensitive spots along her spine and sides.

He was enjoying her quiet little noises and how she writhed, and he nearly had her to where she would make those sweet, whimpery begging sounds as he prolonged their mutual pleasure, when Aeryn stilled, blinking past him. “...Thancred…”

He heard the scrabbling and had barely enough time to brace himself before four tiny sharp-clawed feet landed on his upper back accompanied by angry chittering, and he wondered how such a small creature could knock the wind out of him like that.

Aeryn was no help, the traitor, laughing while the nutkin continued its scolding. “I warned you!” she got out between giggles.

“How in the seven hells did it even get in here, I know I locked that door,” Thancred growled, wrangling the beast off his back, though it refused to be held, scrambling over his arms, chest, and shoulders, until Aeryn cooed and clicked for it.

“You’re the infiltration expert, I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually,” she said as the nutkin bounced over to her, still chittering indignantly but accepting a cuddle and pets.

“Argh,” was Thancred’s only response, dropping on the mattress, arms splayed. A moment later there was another sharp weight on his chest and more chattering, this less angry and more inquisitive and needy. He scritched the nutkin, begrudgingly pleased with how it chirred and nuzzled him. “One would think you neglected entirely, to be so demanding,” he admonished. He went unheeded beyond a fluffy tail bomfed against his ribs a few times in response to his voice.

Aeryn giggled again and settled alongside him, adding her own tribute pets. “You weren’t kidding earlier when you called this critter a tyrant.”

“Perhaps if fed it’ll allow us to return to our own business,” he grumbled.

“There’s a tin container in the cabinet on my desk for such occasions, since we spent plenty of time together while you were gone. You could get the lights while you’re at it.”

Thancred sighed theatrically, eliciting another round of giggles from Aeryn. He sat up with one hand cupped under the nutkin, who chattered and scrabbled up his arm to his shoulder as he crossed the room, its nails prickling Thancred’s bare skin.

There was, in fact, a tin and food and water dishes in the right-hand cabinet in the desk, the nutkin bounding in gleeful expectation upon the oak surface. “You know what you’re after, little fiend,” Thancred said, adding a few treats to hopefully keep his pet occupied and too full to bounce around much more. He brushed his hand over the soft grey fur while the nutkin dug in, chirring with content as it ate. “Lesson learned; see to you first always. Now no more interruptions, hear me?”

The nutkin paid no further attention, focused on its dinner and the snacks for storing in one of its many stashes around the Rising Stones. There was probably at least one here in Aeryn’s chamber.

Thancred left his fuzzy companion on the desk as he turned out the lights, grabbing extra water glasses while he was up, the room familiar enough that once his vision adjusted it was no trouble to cross the darkened space.

Aeryn had slid under the sheets in the meantime and was starting to doze off by the time he set the water on the nightstand and laid beside her. “Sleepy?” He tried very hard not to be too disappointed; it had been a long, hard few days, and honestly sleeping in her bed and being used as her pillow was itself a heavenly feeling he had missed over the past few weeks, and all else could wait until they were better rested in the morning…

The placement of her hand scattered those thoughts. “A bit, after everything,” she said. “But I’m certain you can wake me up again. We had a plan, remember?”

“Indeed,” he said, pulling her close once more. With any luck the nutkin was finally satisfied, as it hadn’t been the only one missing Thancred.

#Final FAntasy XIV #Lyn Writing #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Nutkin #Shippy Nonsense #Aeryn Striker

[eagehaunting]

Mystery March 2021 day 16 and 17: Haunt and Headcannon

Arthur isnt the only medium in Tempo 👀

If it wasn’t for the fact that her knees were aching from falling down a sand dune, Cayenne would have snagged the girl in front of her by her nose and pummeled her. Only she could hardly get a step in without burrs stabbing into her feet. Every part of her skin prickled painfully, the heat of the desert sand baked her body, and her pony tail was now tangled and in knots.

The perpetrator, a see-through girl with a snarky evil grin, who had the advantage of floating, dangles Cayennes new bow in front of her. Her gang of disfigured and equally see through spirits snicker behind her.

“That can’t be all you got now, right?” Angelica taunts, bobbling the sparkly bow and letting its bell ring like a laugh. “Didn’t you say that you would drag me to hell? Why don’t you do so!”

Cayennes eyes stung, biting her lip.

“W-whatever, just give it back.”

“Or what?”

Her heart pounds in her chest, and Angelica’s form wavers for hardly a second before Cayenne wipes her eye.

“Or ill make you regret it.”

The gang of child ghosts laugh. Rolling in midair, hugging themselves, slapping each others shoulders and knees from how hilarious it was.

Cayenne wasn’t laughing. Her teeth grit. She takes two painful steps and tries to swing, trying to snag her bow from Angelicas hand, or punch the ghost. Whichever worked- Cayenne didn’t care.

Why would she respect the dead if they were just a bunch of jerks?

Angelica whisked the bow higher, snapping back and glaring. A hail of heavy sand whips up and smacks into Cayenne’s side. Filling her hair, nose, and ears with a loud scratches and growls. Grateful she didn’t fall, Cayenne lunges and grips the ghosts front.

”I said give it! It’s mine! My friend gave it to me and I won’t let a bunch of fuckers take it!”

Something is coming behind her. Cayenne’s hair stands on end as she feels something sharp and staticky coming. There’s a voice that Cayenne can hardly hear over the sound of her and Angelicas screaming. A shrill argument.

Whoever it was, they could wait-

A hard hand clamps down on her shoulder, and in the next moment Cayenne’s swung back and hardly onto her burr covered shoes. Stark yellows and oranges burn bright against the musty brown sand. Finally, the raspy voice was clear.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Arthur says, voices low and stern, and his grip never faltering. Stiff in horror, Angelica floats back. Hands up and shaky and trying to wave away the horrible feeling of an adults disappointment. The gang behind her diminishes, dashing off into the sand dunes, and Angelica quickly follows. A wail rising above the winds.

Before Cayenne caught her breath, she was swung up again, this time pulled onto Arthur’s hip as he begins to jog. Either uncaring of the burrs in her soles or unable to tell.

“W-wait!” Cayenne desperately tries to wiggle out of his grasp so that way she can run after the thieves, but his grip is almost as tight as Lewis’s. “They still have my -“

”Zip it.”

Cayenne’s lip quivers and vision wavers, filled with the all too strong urge to kick him in the ribs. But Arthur is speeding up, jogging, running to the edge of town, and the next thing Cayenne knew, they were looping around the shiny orange van and the passenger door was being open.

Arthur let’s her flop on the seat.

“Ow!” Cayenne hisses, her legs aching from the quick jostling, and she massages them roughly despite the burrs in her fingers.

Unsympathetic, Arthur stands in front of her. “Cayenne, tell me what happened.”

She looks at him with a frown pulling at her upper lip, wanting to beat her fists against the seats. “They started it.”

Arthur’s looking down at her as he pinches the bridge of his nose, eyebrows screwed together tightly. “What do you mean.”

“They started it,” Cayenne repeats herself, unable to help banning her heels against the side of the bench. Pointing to the Deseret, Cayenne continues. “I was at the park, minding my business, when a bunch of those f- uh.” She stumbles, knowing exactly what to say but not knowing how Arthur would feel about it.

“Ghosts.” He supplies flatly, and Cayenne nods.

“Right. Ghosts. They came over and started sh-crap! So I beat them up, and they stole my bow.” Her bow... the one Vivi bought for her from work... which Angelica probably still had. That thought makes her stomach and eyes boil, but no amount of grinding her teeth stopped the hot tears from finally slipping down her cheek.

Which finally got her an ounce of compassion. Arthur huffs tightly and leans past her, grabbing a tissue from the glove box and lightly blotting her cheeks. His anger was less but tense like a simmering boil, Cayenne couldn’t tell why.

“They took your bow, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I really liked that one too...!” her words come out in garbled sobs, and Cayenne’s breath hitches pathetically as her feet and legs bled from the scraps and plants jabbing into them.

Arthur’s quiet for a few more minutes, fists tight and uncaring to how horrible her chest and lungs have been burning.

Arthur’s voice is considerably softer when he kneels on the vans foot bar in-front of her, making it sink down and alerting Cayenne to try and look at him. “What hurts, cai?”

Arthur had pulled out the first aid kit and sat next to her with a small plastic bag to act as a trash can. He pulled off her socks and shoes and left them on the van floor, and with tweezers he held her foot steady and plucked off the sharp burrs. Then he cleaned off her legs with rubbing alcohol that had them both wincing from cuts on their skin. Then, with a spare brush and an extra hair tie, he redid her pony tail.

Then, he took off a necklace that Cayenne had only seen once or twice. It was called a dog tag, and apparently Arthur was given it so spirits wouldn’t be able to bother him so easily.

Cayenne fiddles with the dog tag now, legs crossed and sitting alone in the front seat of the van. The windows were cracked and Arthur turned on the radio for her to have a distraction while he was gone, but she found it nicer to trace her scabbed fingers along the engravings.

Was it a gift? Or was she just supposed to borrow it while he went through the desert to give those spirits a piece of their mind... whatever it was, Cayenne was grateful. Both for the coolness of the shiny metal and the cracked window, her cheeks were warm after staring at the name for so long.

Hopefully Arthur won’t think bad about her... Cayenne frowns, sinking in the middle seat. Waiting.

Not for long however. The driver seat door opens and startles Cayenne out of her focus, and Arthur shuffles back in.

“Feeling better?”

Cayenne nods, shuffling to her side of the van and buckling herself as Arthur settles in and starts the van.

“Good. I’m glad. Ready for it to get better?”

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t Arthur pulling out a sparkly bow, lined with ribbons and lace and a shiny blue bell right in the center. Cayenne gasps and reaches for it. “You got it!”

“I did,” Arthur smiles softly, flipping on the AC and turning it on high, “it was on the ground when I went to look for it. I think the spirits must have gotten scared and didn’t want to risk running into one of us again.”

Cayenne’s cheeks are still warm despite the AC blasting cool air across her face. Never the less she cradles the bow close to her chest. Opening her mouth, her tongue lays limp and useless. “Th-thank you.”

“No problem. Now, do you want to get a slushie before I take you back home?”

#mystery skulls animated #mystery march 2021 #msa #arthur kingsmen #cayenne pepper #medium Cayenne #there’s another hc sprinkled in here #a few more actually! #can you figure out what they are 👀 #hint hint focus on Cayenne #eage fanfic

[dreamiehrs]

be careful what you wish for... it may already be true ➛ l.jn

lee jeno x reader ∗ fluff, witch!jeno, witch!y/n, gender neutral reader, fantasy!au ∗ length: 2,070 words

“jeno, don’t you think it’s ridiculous that you’re going to try to get y/n’s attention by a mere love potion? do you really think that’s gonna work on them?” renjun follows jeno closely in his basement, which was where jeno would make concoctions ranging from personality potions to death potions. he was quite the powerful potion maker, one of the most popular in the magic academy he attended.

renjun does his best not to trip over any equipment in jeno’s basement as jeno stands in front of a large wooden table, which was littered with tons of flasks, beakers, test tubes, pipettes, etc. if you could name it, it was probably on the table. jeno scoffs as he crouches down, finding his potion book in one of the drawers and pulling it out. “what’s the worst that could happen? why wouldn’t it work on them?”

“...the worst that could happen is that it doesn’t work and they could end up hating you forever! don’t you ever put this type of stuff into consideration?” renjun warns, watching as jeno studies each page of his brown leather book before flipping to the next page. his eyebrows furrow until he finds the page he was looking for, and walks around the table to his pantry, that was full of herbs and liquids to make his desired potion.

jeno chuckles, almost arrogantly, as he picks out a bottle full of rose leaves. “my potions never fail, junnie, you know this. I’m one of the best potion makers in this entire academy, so this potion definitely won’t backfire on me. if it does, I can just reverse it with one of my spells... however, I’m not really confident in spell-casting yet, so that may do more worse than good.” he hums to himself, picking out a few more things before turning back to face renjun.

“you’re too cocky for your own good, jeno. one day your potion is gonna fail on you, and you’re gonna have to face the consequences sooner or later. I’m not gonna stick along when that happens, so you’ll be all on your own when you have to deal with something like that.” renjun proclaims, now leaning against a wall with his dark brown owl familiar perched on his shoulder. renjun had named him owlvin because, well, it’s renjun we’re talking about here.

jeno slips on some gloves and gets to work on the potion, turning his oven on and filling up a medium pot full of water to make his potion with. “glad to know what type of friend you are, junnie.” he adds his ingredients one by one and starts to chant something quietly to himself as his concoction starts to lightly simmer.

renjun rolls his eyes, and owlvin snuggles up to his neck. this potion definitely wasn’t going to work, he thought to himself.

...

a few days later, after jeno had perfected his love potion to use on you, he seals it up in a light pink water bottle, so he wouldn’t mix it up with his regular water bottle. he was determined that this would work on you, and if it didn’t, he would resort to other ways to get you to fall in love with him.

you were a witch yourself, and although you would love nothing more than to get to know jeno, the famous potion maker at the academy, your friends had their suspicions about him.

“he acts so nice, but what if that’s all an act?” jisung mumbles beside you as the two of you were walking down the hallway, using his levitate spell to make the bag of popcorn levitate in front of himself. he pops a few pieces into his mouth, accidentally dropping some down onto the floor in the process.

“I beg to differ, sungie. I don’t think y/n would be interested in a guy who only fakes his kindness just to get rewards out of it, right, y/n?” chenle speaks up from your left, making sure to pick up any fallen popcorn pieces that jisung had accidentally knocked over.

you nod at his words, and jisung proceeds to catapult a popcorn piece at chenle’s head. chenle practically screams an “ow!” with his dramatic self, and luckily, the other students around you three didn’t even react, because they’re so used to chenle screaming for no reason now.

as the three of you enter the canteen, you come face-to-face with (speak of the devil) lee jeno. you do your best not to let your cheeks heat up as he looks at you expectantly. jisung stares him down from your right until chenle drags him off in another direction, giving you and jeno some privacy.

“y/n,” he breathes out, having to compose himself briefly before continuing. “I was wondering if you could do something for me?”

you raise an eyebrow before a chuckle leaves your mouth. “as long as it doesn’t have to do with cursing someone, then yes, I can probably do something for you, jen.”

his eyes widened. “of course not! I would never ask you to do something that dangerous... I wouldn’t want to put you in danger. anyways,” he pauses, pulling out a pink water bottle from his bag. “I was wondering if you could test out my luck potion for me?”

you take the bottle from his hands, inspecting the liquid inside of it. usually, luck potions were a gold-ish color, that would sparkle in the sunlight. however, this one was a rosy pink, which highly resembles a love potion. you were skeptical, to say the least, but knowing jeno, he wouldn’t pull off a stunt like this on you.

you nod, opening the cap of the bottle. “of course! I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow, alright?” he looks at you hopefully as you take a swig of the drink, almost cringing at how sweet it was. you send him a smile, and he seems relieved as you do so.

“right. see you tomorrow!” he runs off into the canteen to spill what he did to renjun, while you glance warily at the drink in your hands.

...

“...so? did it work?” renjun questions a few days later in the canteen, stabbing his fork in a piece of watermelon before popping it into his mouth. jeno sat there dejectedly in front of him, his tray still full of food as he picked at it occasionally. “hey, if you don’t eat now, you’re gonna end up regretting it later.”

jeno groans, pushing his hair back in frustration. “I don’t know! the day after I gave her the potion, she told me that it didn’t seem to work, and she gave me back my water bottle, which was half full of the potion.”

“wait... what potion did you tell her you were giving to her?” renjun deadpans, and owlvin coos when he sees jeno still.

jeno gulps. “I... uh... may have told her that it was a luck potion instead of a love potion...” he mumbles, and he can hear renjun sigh from in front of him. when he looks up, he notices that owlvin is facepalming with his left wing at jeno’s confession.

“you know you have to tell them eventually, right? it’s unfair that they don’t know it was actually a love potion... I mean, maybe they already figured that out, since they’re a witch as well.”

renjun was right, as always, and owlvin nodded his head in his agreement with renjun’s words. jeno groaned once again, tangling his fingers in his hair as he realized he’s messed up, and bad. you probably already knew that it was a love potion just from how he saw you examining it, so why didn’t you decline testing his potion? “you’re probably right, junnie. why haven’t they said anything, thou–”

“jeno?” he’s interrupted by your voice, and he flinches before glancing to his left, where you were now seated. renjun silently chuckles to himself as jeno’s draw practically drops, and he has to do his best to cover up his grinning face as he watches the two of you from the sidelines.

“y-yes?” jeno stutters within your presence, and you give him a sweet smile to soothe his nerves.

“can we talk about something, please? in private?” you send a glance in renjun’s direction, and jeno seems to pick up on that immediately. he turns to be met with renjun’s knowing look, and that’s all it takes for jeno to nod his head before glancing back at you.

jeno stands up and grasps your hand, pulling you up with him gently. “of course. let’s go to the courtyard.” he states, and as the two of you walk to the courtyard together, he can feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. even though he seemed composed conversing with you on the outside, he could feel himself practically exploding on the inside.

...

you two find a bench to sit down comfortably onto, and you turn your body towards him. “I wanted to talk to you about that potion that I tested out for you a few days ago. I know you said it was a luck potion when you gave it to me, but when I inspected it further, it resembled more of a love potion.”

he nods, playing with his hands nervously as he meets your gaze. it wasn’t an angry, disappointed glint that flashed through your eyes like he had expected. your gaze was soft as you looked at him, waiting for his next move. he was briefly surprised, and he made up his mind in a matter of seconds. “I’m sorry, y/n. it’s as exactly as you had assumed. it was a love potion that I had given you a few days ago, and for why I did so, it’s because I... I have had a crush on you for the past three years, and no matter how much time I would spend around you, trying to get you to have mutual feelings for me as well, it never seemed to work out. I know it was messed up, to give you a love potion without you knowing, and I hope you’ll forgive me for what I’ve done.”

his head hangs low as he studies the ground underneath him, not noticing how you have a huge smile on your face. “I already knew it was a love potion, jen. also, don’t worry, I forgive you.”

his head whips up to meet your gaze. “y-you knew?” he stammers out, his cheeks flushing a pink when he sees you nod.

“I knew it from the start, just from taking a good look at the liquid’s color. so, I wasn’t surprised that it wouldn’t work on me, mainly because I knew what it was already, but also because of another reason...” you trail off.

“another reason? w-what’s that?”

you scoot closer to him, and his eyes widen at the proximity between you two. “because love potions don’t work on someone when they’re already in love.”

“you’re already in love? with who?” he wonders, seeing how your eyes sparkle as you gaze at him. you hold back a chuckle at his question, and he looks at you, confused.

“oh, jen, you’re almost as oblivious as you’re confident. I thought it was obvious from the start, from the day the two of us had met, but if I have to spell it out for you, then so be it. I’m in love with you, jeno.” you use your hand to gently push away the hair that had fallen close to his eyes, and he locks eyes with you after you say this.

he couldn’t believe his ears, and his eyes for that matter, as you slowly started leaning in closer to him, your eyes flickering down to glance at his lips and then back up at him. when your lips collide with his, fireworks explode in his stomach as he cups one of your cheeks with his hand, eventually relaxing into the kiss.

as he’s having his moment with you, he realizes something. maybe he didn’t have to go through all of that work to get you to fall for him when you already were.

the universe works in certain ways to bring two people together, and luckily, for you and jeno, you didn’t have to do much to be brought together naturally.

#dreamwritersnet #nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct #nct jeno #lee jeno #jeno #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #jeno blurb #jeno drabble #jeno fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct blurb #nct drabble #nct fluff #nct dream blurb #nct dream drabble #nct dream fluff

[horrorslashergirl]

Can you do please please please do a part two on the smut piece you wrote about the "You're next" movie? thank you so much!!

Aww yes! I loved that movie so much and it makes me sad there aren’t fanfics with them. I mean, come on! Look at them. They are so badass.

Animal Masked Killers x Reader- New Deal

Warning: NSFW

You weren't a disgusting and selfish person, but at this very moment, you felt so, knowing that tonight your ex-husband will die. How do you know? Well, you're the one who hired three former army men, specialized in combat and weaponry.

At first, you doubted that it will work, but seeing so many possibilities of getting rid of that scumbag, it made you realize that it was a good option, after all the stalking and humiliation he put you through when you were together and even after the divorce, you had enough.

Sitting on the couch, your eyes moved to the digital clock, seeing that it would be just a few minutes until they will start. You poured yourself a glass of wine to ease the tension, all kinds of thoughts running through your head.

When the police will find the body will they think of you as a suspect? No. You managed to have an alibi and just one hour ago you had two of your friends over for a movie, not to mention you just face-timed your mother a few moments ago.

Still, there was an uncertainness there. Where you that low for hiring hitmen to do the dirty job?

You took a sip of your wine and swallowed down, the time ticking and wondering if his death was quick or slowly. Part of you hoped he suffered, but the more humanity part hoped it was just a shot to the head, nothing more.

All these thoughts made you lost track of time and you heard a knock, the time showing it was well past midnight. Putting the empty glass of wine on the coffee table you got up and opened the door, eyes widening as you saw the three masked men.

"What are you doing here?" you asked in a whisper.

The man with the fox mask tilted his head, his crossbow on his back.

"We are here for half the money. Don't you remember? Half before and half after." he said in a deep voice.

You nodded and let them enter, making sure there was none that could find all of this suspicious. Walking into the living room, you pulled out an envelope from a drawer, handing it to the leader for what you presume.

"I hope it's enough." you said in an emotionless voice, looking down.

The fox man nodded, seemed satisfied with their pay. One of the other two, the one with the tiger mask tilted his head at your not satisfied face.

"First time?" he asked, making you look up at him.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, brows furrowing.

"First time paying someone to kill?" he asked again and you bite on your lower lip, nodding, shame washing over you.

"You shouldn't feel so. He was just dirt." the leader, the one with the fox mask said.

"I know, but I don't feel any higher than he was, maybe I am worse than him." you said, feeling like crying, the alcohol makes you feel like confessing all of your inner turmoils.

You were pulled out of our thinking when a gloved hand touched your shoulder, stroking the tense muscles there. It was the one with the lamb mask. Glassy eyes looking up at him with curiosity.

"We saw a lot in our lives, princess. Don't let garbage let you feel down." the lamb mask told you, patting your shoulder.

They moved away from you, ready to take their leave, that's when you felt something deep inside you like something wasn't done.

"Wait! Um.....Maybe would you like to stay for a drink?" you asked, cursing yourself.

What were you thinking? Inviting paid killers for a glass of wine?

They looked at each other and shrugged, nodding your way. Why not? It's been a long night and they could use it. The three moved into the living room, tiger and lamb mask sitting down on the couch, while the fox mask sat on the armchair. You came back shortly with a glass for everyone and two bottles of wine.

You poured a glass of wine for each of them, then refilled yours. Your eyes looked at their masked faces and wondered if they would take them off.

The first to do so was the fox mask, his face revealed, he had blue eyes, short brown hair, and a medium-length beard. He was quite handsome. The other two followed suit and unmasked themselves. Both of them were good-looking, just like their leader.

Fox mask took his glass of wine and took a big gulp of the red drink, humming to himself.

"So? Any reason you invited us in?" Fox mask asked with a raised eyebrow.

Looking down at your glass you shrugged.

"Do I need one? I am living almost in the middle of nowhere, with no neighbors. Does that make any sense?" you said with an acidic tone.

"You must be lonely." Tiger mask said, sipping on his wine, his eyes looking deeply at you.

Yes, after the divorce you accepted that it was better to be alone. At first, it seemed like an easy deal, but after three months, it was too much, coming home after work with an empty house, none to support you emotionally or give you a huge. It made you feel like crumbling down.

"Shut up, asshole." Fox mask glared at Tiger, who put his hand in surrender, giving you an apologetic look.

"No. He's right. I've been alone for almost a year with none." you assured them, not feeling like been pitied.

You were sitting between Tiger and Lamb, then someone put their arm around your shoulder in a comforting way. It was Lamb.

"Hey. That's a look that doesn't suit you, sweetcheeks." he told you, feeling your cheeks heat up at his pet name for you.

His arm around your shoulder moved to your waist, his gloved fingers stroking your skin through the shirt, making you lean more into his body. You weren't easy prey, but one year without any form of touch or affection can make some crave a lot. Before you realized it, you were nuzzling your face into his chest, taking in his warmness and that faint smell of wood and male cologne.

"Bro, she seems to like you." Tiger joked, smirking at Lamb who reciprocated his friend smirk with one of his own, shrugging.

Lamb looked down at you, his lips moving closer, brushing against your own, half-lidded eyes looking at him with longing, begging him to make the first move and he did so. His lips were chapped from the cold outside, but they still felt good, the taste of wine and cigarettes from him was addicting. A chorus of 'ohhs' resounded from the other two, watching their friend kiss you, not just simple kiss, because it turned into a full make-out session, your tongue running over his, then he pulled away, breathing against your wet lips.

His hazel eyes looked at Tiger, then back at you, his hands on your hips and you just realized that you moved onto his lap. You wanted to apologize, the reality hitting you what you just did, but he stopped you.

"I think my bro here is feeling a little jealous." Lamb chuckled, Tiger, glaring at his smugness, ready to tell his friend to fuck off, but he was even more surprised when you moved from Lamb's lap over his.

You didn't know what you were doing if this was right, but you wanted this, that was for sure because it felt good. Your lips moved to kiss Tiger, tiny hands moving over his broad chest, a groan pulling from him when you nibbled on his bottom lip.

Before he could deepen the kiss more, you pulled away only to kiss down his neck, his hips grounding into yours, making you feel how much he enjoyed your attention.

"God guys, she feels so good." Tiger breathed out, his covered hands squeezing your buttcheeks, making you arch into his touches.

You pulled away from Tiger's neck and looked at the three, biting your lip, feeling a little insecure as their eyes looked intensely at you.

"I-I....I've never..." you wanted to say, blushing darkly.

"Do you want to?" Fox mask finally asked after he was silent for so long.

Wondering if this was right, after all, they were killers, they murdered your ex-husband, but the hell with it.

"Yes." You decided.

Lamb got off the couch and moved behind you, his hands on the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and you let him. You cursed yourself for not wearing a bra, but the men didn't seem to mind, because next Tigers hands groped your breasts, squeezing the flesh.

Lamb helped you get undressed and started to undress himself, but you stopped him.

"I-I want you all dressed.....with your masks on."

You didn't knew where that come from.

"Kinky. I like it." Tiger murmured, the three putting on their masks on.

There was just something about them like that, that made your blood boil with lust. Lamb moved his hand between your legs, two of his fingers rubbing on your heat, wetness soaking into his gloves.

"Jeez....She's already so wet." Lamb groaned, pushing two digits inside, preparing you for what was to come. You moaned, pushing your chest into Tigers, your hands gripping his broad shoulders.

One of Tigers hands moved to accompany Lambs, his thumb rubbing on your clit, your hips grinding on their hands.

"Yes, please!" you moaned out, looking over your shoulder at Lamb, Fox just watching the show, his cock already free as he stroked it.

"Who do you want first?" Lamb asked, curling his fingers inside you.

Your only response was a whimper because you didn't know what to answer. Hearing the sound of a zipper lowering you saw Tiger pull out his hard cock, positioning it at your entrance.

"If none goes first I will. Ready, doll?" Tiger asked, pushing in slowly, lowering you on his length. He was thick and it made your legs shake. It's really been a long time.

"Fuck, she's tight, guys." Tiger groaned, starting to thrust inside you, whines leaving your lips.

Lamb pulled his cock out too, stroking it and rubbing his tip on the skin of your buttcheeks.

"Bro. I cannot wait to be inside her too." Lamb panted out, making the man inside you chuckle.

"Then come in. I don't mind." Tiger told Lamb, making you look at him with a confused expression until you felt the man behind you push his cock inside your pussy, trying to accompany Tiger.

"Oh fuck...." you breathed out, feeling both men thrust inside you.

You never had two cocks inside your pussy at the same time, but the sensation was so delicious, you started to bounce on their lengths. Their hands moved to pinch your nipples, rub your clit and grasp your throat. The sounds their cocks made as they pushed inside you was so humiliating, but also so intoxicating, then just like that they pulled out.

You wanted to ask them what was wrong, but your hair was fisted tightly by Fox. He tugged you inside the kitchen and bend you over the kitchen counter. You looked behind to see the three of them stroke their cocks, the first one was Lamb, pushing inside you and pounding vigorously until you felt your climax hit you hard, next following his own, cumming deep inside you.

He pulled out and you squeaked as Tiger replaced him, not even giving you a break as he filled your pussy, the cum of his partner running down your inner thighs.

"Oh God.." you moaned you, hearing the men chuckle.

"That's right, princess. You're ours now. Better get that through your head." Tiger groaned out, his gloved hand giving your ass a harsh spank, the skin turning red. He pounded you hard, feeling how you tighten around him.

"Gonna cum again?" he asked, his thumb rubbing on your clit firmly, giving you the second orgasm of the night as he filled you up, his hips grinding into yours as he emptied himself. Pulling out, he made space for the last one, Fox.

You turned your head with a red face and tears at the corner of your eyes.

"T-Too much...." you breathed out, feeling your lower regions tingle.

Fox moved between your legs, his hand running down your spine, and stroking your shoulder, his mask brushed against your neck.

"One last round, princess. I'm going to be gentle." he whispered, then slowly slide in, making you whine.

He did as he promised, his thrusts all going slow, taking his time, but your over-sensitivity was too much because you felt the third orgasm approach.

"C-Close..." you breathed out, Fox nodding as his pace quickened, his hips slamming against you, a loud moan escaping you as you came, followed by him.

As he finished he pulled out, a mess between your legs, the three looking at your tiered form. Tiger picked you up, your half-closed eyes just making out the way to your bathroom, then the sound of water running.

Next, you were pulled into the bathtub, the warm water making you sigh in content.

"Thank you." you whispered, seeing them look at you.

"Do you have anything to eat?" Lamb asked.

"Yeah, I have some lasagna, but why?" you asked, running your hands over your shoulders.

"Well, if we're gonna stay here I need to eat something. I'm starving." Lamb told you, walking out and downstairs to the kitchen.

You gave the other two a confused look, not understanding what they meant.

"You're ours now. Better get used to us." Fox told you with his arms crossed.

Tiger pulled his glove off and stroked your cheek.

"You told us you wanted to get rid of the loneliness. Say hi to your new husbands." Tiger told you with an amused voice.

Eyes wide open, you wondered.....What have you gotten yourself into?

#You're Next 2011 #Fox Mask #Tiger Mask #Lamb Mask #Reader Insert #Animal Masked Killers

[oftenderweapons]

Introducing: the Girlfriend — Giggles

Hello bumblebees!

Since the girlfriends will feature as original characters in some of the pieces I’ve planned, in this small serie you will find some general information about the girls, presented with their aesthetics. Here you will find Hobi’s Giggles. NSFW content is featured.

You can find more of her and the other girls here.

And here is my masterlist

Giggles is the cutest little potato. That could be all. However, I'm gonna elaborate.

I think she's a couple years younger than Hoseok, or maybe the same age. She is medium tall (slightly smaller than him, but barely) and quite thin. Her body is lithe and stretchable — she does yoga — but quite curveless, however this is not an issue to Hoseok. He loves her small, girly physique. In terms of nationality, she could be Korean, but her parents might be foreigners: I see her being pretty pale and a natural readhead.

She is a vet; Hoseok met during an emergency with Mickey and after that she was stuck in his mind. Though economically independent, she can’t afford a comfy apartment in the city, that’s why she lives squished in a small three-room apartment; still, she doesn’t mind since cleaning up takes less time and the tiny den seems fitting for her being a tiny human. The only problem with her apartment is that she can't keep any pet, however she wishes she had a cute, fluffy, big cat. She likes thrift-shopping, coloured things and animals. She’s really gentle and has a sparkly, although introverted personality. She’s basically the stereotype of a Hufflepuff.

This girlie is soft, she has the quirkiest sense of fashion and she often wears children clothes since her size is THAT small. Of course Hoseok jokes about it, but secretly he loves it: whenever she gets into his clothes, she looks extra small and he needs to snuggle her like his favourite teddy bear. Yes, she might be in her twenties, no, do not take her Winnie the Pooh onesie away from her. She still watches cartoons (attentively) and enjoys spending her evenings in front of the TV with a Disney or a Studio Ghibli movie.

Nature makes her happy. Hoseok likes making her giggle and smile, therefore he likes doing whatever she likes. He takes her out on picnics, or to pick cherries and strawberries.

She likes animals so whenever she spots a cute pet, Hoseok is more than glad to ask their owner if she can pet them. When she spots a kitty out of her reach she pouts and goes all big, sparkly, sad eyes; of course Hoseok can't stand that and he has often picked her up so she could reach for the kitty and pet it.

She loves cherries and strawberries a whole lot. She might be a vegetarian and her diet is mostly made of fruit and several types of tea and herbal tea. She is addicted to cornflakes and milk.

Publicly, Giggles and Hoseok hold hands a lot, with Hoseok tugging at her hand to pull her into him when he wants her close. Normally you would simply see them trotting like two excited puppies when going on dates, while during official public appearances he would simply catwalk like a model while she ethereally strolls behind him. I see her dressed in lots of chiffon and light, airy fabric, making her look like a fairy floating around him like a spirit of the woods.

Giggles is delicate both emotionally and physically. She hasn’t had meaningful relationships before, only dates and small flings with maybe three or four partners, one of which might have been a friend with benefits, maybe. Her flings were usually calm and quiet, mostly vanilla, and normally they ended because of a lack of chemistry and because those people couldn’t make her feel comfortable enough to let her inner freak out, or simply turned down her propositions to explore and venture into more daring activities. With Hoseok it immediately turns out that they have an excellent connection, his bubbly and sparkly personality meeting her childlike side, but at the same time, his darker, demanding and open-minded persona immediately answering her needs for sexual exploration. Their bodies seem to know each other instinctively from their very first encounter and this kind of “perfect match” based on physicality brings them closer and closer to each other, but also helps them use sex and their bodies to explore each other’s minds. With Hoseok, Giggles gradually discovers several degrees of submission as they both venture into the mechanisms and techniques of BDSM. This shared exploration is the glue of their relationship, but it also creates an intimacy so deep that they manage to completely remove shame from their bond. Hoseok can be ruthless in bed, however Giggles’ girlish nature hides a spine of steel that comes out while undergoing tougher, harsher scenes; still she prefers Hoseok to fondle her verbally and emotionally as he delivers the most vicious treatments. Giggles and Hoseok took a bondage course after both of them discovered a certain interest for this discipline. She is excellent at it: Hoseok trusts her blindly and she is generally more wicked in her use of the lessons; on the other hand, Hoseok uses ropes and knots more often but more gently, paying extra attention to Giggles’ skinny, delicate physique.

In terms of sex positions, Hoseok likes changing a lot. During a round he can go through two or three positions, which sometimes extenuates Giggles. His most recurrent positions are missionary with her legs on his shoulders, doggy, and spoons with her laying on her front; occasionally he might fuck her while standing, hooking one of her legs around his waist, or also making her lay down on her side and lifting her free leg up, pressing it to his chest while he straddles her lower leg and enters her — we all know he can handle the most unbelievable positions and those hips can be pretty cruel with deep strokes and hard and fast thrusts. He is more than willing to make up for his restlessness by pleasing her, especially with his fingers — he can make her squirt easily and likes doing so very often. She is also extremely ticklish: torturing her with ticklers, feathers and fur gloves is a huge turn on for him, however he rewards her plenty with several sessions of oral sex.

Hoseok in bed can be very demanding, both physically and spiritually, therefore she often prefers to be allowed some space during aftercare. He understands and follows her will, quietly leaving for a few minutes to let her calm herself, check the results of their session and clean up. It usually doesn’t take long before she calls for him or actively looks for him, asking him to massage her sore body, or to apply lotion over her skin. Normally, if they engage in a scene before going to sleep, he makes sure she takes mild herbal sleeping pills and water to relax before sleep, to avoid her gritting her teeth in her sleep and having small twitches because of the physical effort, or waking up with painful cramps — after all she is a delicate creature. She prefers having him by her side after making love: he likes showering with her, washing her hair and drying it afterward. Generally he likes cuddles after domming, since he feels vulnerable and he needs to know that he didn’t go too far. He also needs to be reassured with love affirmations, especially since during punishments and certain kinds of (so to say) torture — like sensation play, edging and overstimulation — Giggles might say hurtful things or might have unpleasant reactions such as biting, scratching, trying to escape or in some extreme cases, crying.

During the day or when chilling on the sofa, Giggles likes cuddles. Hoseok often squishes her cheeks and kisses her nose. His most frequent form of cuddles is playing with her hair or nuzzling into it while spooning her. Her hair always smells like flowers. Hoseok lives that. He gives her loads of small kisses, especially on her cheeks, sometimes biting into them since they’re the roundest part of her face. She might have cute, hamster cheeks. Hoseok’s favourite cuddles are her hands in his hair, combing it or massaging his scalp while he rests his head on her stomach or lap. They give each other a lot of kisses — more like playful smooches.

They don’t have a favourite sleeping position, Hoseok is too impatient and shifts a lot in his sleep so he falls asleep as he feels like doing. Normally they sleep simply next to each other: Giggles likes falling asleep while he spoons her and normally she falls asleep first, while Hoseok moves away once she is soundly asleep.

Overall, Giggles is a cute and delicate creature, a gentle soul who is fond of animals and nature; still, she has a kinkier side that matches Hoseok’s experimental one: their bubbly personalities, instinctual communication and sexual needs match perfectly, creating a strong and well-balanced couple.

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #bts headcanons #giggles aesthetic #introducing giggles #introducing the girlfriends #giggles #the girlfriends #hoseok headcanons #jung hoseok #hoseok smut

[bunnyramen]

It started with Hagakure, the first somewhat bravely approaching Kirishima and giving him a pair of her hero gloves to wear for whatever reason.

“Wow, thanks Hagakure! I can use these for when i have to work with Hatsume!” He put them on and wiggles his fingers around in them, turning his hand over to gaze at them.

“It’s no problem, Kirishima!” Hagakure blushed a bit, not thinking her plan would work.

The reason she gave him those because she wanted to see him in her hero merch. She had recently gotten a bunch a pairs back since there were always left overs from random cons and such.

It wasn’t odd to see a couple of classmates carrying large boxes back into their room, most likely full of their own merch.

She was surprised she was the first to do it, Kirishima would be the perfect person to showcase that she was the next top hero.

Or at least top 5.

“Well, see you later!” She walked away quickly, Kirishima looking a bit confused cause he figured they would talk a bit more but shrugged it off.

“Bye!” Kirishima waved with the gloves still on, Hagakure barely catching it when she looked back, a grin gracing her invisible face.

——

“Excuse me, Kirishima?” Ochako tapped the taller on the shoulder as they were in the lunch line.

“Hey Ochako! Didn’t see you there! What’s up?” He smiled, his dimples taking over his cheeks that made her heart scream a bit.

“I got some hero merch in the mail and decided to give you these earrings since I know you’re adding to your collection.” Kirishima scooted up in line to make sure he didn’t hold up the long line, Ochako scooting up behind him.

She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a pair of medium sized golden hoops. There were little charms that represented the 8 planets that clacked when you shook them.

Kirishima gasped, “These are so boss!! Thanks so much, ‘chako!” He slipped the first pair earrings that were in his ear off and put in the new ones, absolutely beaming with delight.

“Plus they glow in the dark!”

Kirishima scooted up causing Ochako to scoot up again, then captured her in a hug. Her arms wrapped around his waist and squeezed tight, unexpectedly taking in the scent of cherries and fresh grass.

“These are like the best earrings I have by far!” He smiled again, tilting his head from side to side, making the charms click against each other.

Ochako blinked a few times before putting on a bright smile of her own, the prospect of her merch earrings being the best made her feel warmness in her heart.

——

“Happy great friends day!” Kaminari produced a present suddenly, startling Kirishima who was playing his Ds.

Kirishima has been in the common room on the couch, others were either sitting at the table or on the floor.

“There’s a great friends day?” Kirishima paused his game and sat up on the couch, putting it down on a cushion and turning towards Kaminari.

“Of course it’s not a day that I made up!” He plopped the wrapped gift in Kirishima’s lap, thankful that it was soft.

“I wish I would’ve known! If we’re exchanging gifts, I’d have gotten you one, too.” Kirishima started tearing the packaging and putting the pieces on the cushion to pick up later.

“That’s alright, dude. You don’t need to get me a thing!” Kaminari watched intently as the boy and unfolded the sweatshirt, the clothing being covered in lightning bolts and his hero name in cursive neon yellow letters across the front.

“This is so gnarly! I’m touched!” He hugged the sweater close to his chest, making Kaminari blush.

“Ah, it was nothing really! You just seem to prefer hoodies to shirts anyways.” Kaminari really wanted to be cocky but he couldn’t help but to be humble to Kirishima.

The redhead started to put it over his head but when it came to pulling it down over his stomach, it only got half way down.

“How is it too small? Cant you fit a medium?” Kaminari seemed confused, he could’ve sworn that this was his size.

“No but it’s fine! ‘Sides crop top sweaters are in according to Aoyama’s blog.” Kirishima sucked his arms back into the hoodie and also through the arms of his shirt.

It took a bit of time but after a minute, Kirishima pulled off his shirt, showing off a midsection marked with abs, scars, and plenty of stretch marks.

Kaminari almost covered his eyes but didn’t since he would miss the sight in front of him.

“Well, I’m gonna go to my room and draw or something, thank you for the gift!” Kirishima said a bit hurried as he made his way to the elevator.

“Denks..” Jirou called his attention, said boy turning towards the purple headed girl sitting at the community table with a raised eyebrow.

“That was probably one of the smartest things you’ve ever done..” Jirou mumbled as she clinked the ends of her headphone jacks together, her face red as a ripe strawberry.

Kaminari smiled cockily, “Yeah, I know.” With the amount of shirts Kirishima wore on a daily basis, that hoodie was going to be on display for a good, long while.

——-

“Shit!” Kirishima has his mask in his hands, though it was split in two now.

“What happened, dude?” Kaminari asked as he slipped on one of his boots and laced it up.

“My mask broke in half.” He tossed the two pieces in the trash and started taking off his shirt.

“You dont have a replacement, Kirishima-kun?” Iida slipped on his shin guards and turned towards Kirishima, a calculating arch in his arrowhead brow.

“I don’t! I should probably build new one, Iida-Senpai.” Kirishima pulled out a piece of paper, showing him the blue prints for a new design for a mask on it.

Iida flushed a bit, which was very uncharacteristic for the normally in control president.

(Momo made a joke that it was respectful to call your class reps senpai since they were technically the upperclassmen of the class. Kirishima, not wanting to be impolite, took it seriously)

“This is such a carefully calculated design, I’m extremely impressed.” Iida looked it over and handed it back to the redhead, a rare smile on his face as he pushed up his glasses.

“Thanks! I was thinking about adding goggles to it since I have nothing protecting my eye.” Kirishima took of his pants and slipped on his hero pants and his new metal belt.

“Well, I suppose since you don’t have your mask, you can use these for the time being.” Iida fished a visor-like pair of glasses from his locker, handing them to Kirishima who had finished buckling his shoes.

“Seriously? Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to break them-“

“I assure you Kirishima-kun, it’s quite alright. There an old prototype for my hero costume that didn’t quite fit with the design of my suit. You may keep them.” He handed them to Kirishima as he put both his palms out to take it.

“Thanks so much, Iida-senpai! I really appreciate this!” Kirishima put them on and made a small marveled sound.

“You’re very welcome. Now I must finish getting ready for hero training, I’ll see you out there.” Iida bowed a bit, as did Kirishima with a big smile on his face.

“I’ll see you out there, class rep!” He waved happily as the heavy footfalls of his boots got quieter as he left.

As soon as the boy was gone, Iida had a light smile, almost a smirk on his face.

He normally wasn’t competitive but in this case, he had this one in the bag.

——

Bonus:

“Woah, where’d you get those?” Kaminari pointed at his glasses.

“Iida! He let me have them since I need eye protection!”

“If I would’ve known that, I would’ve given you my old spare!” Kaminari harrumphed.

——-

“Kirishima?” Midoriya knocked politely on the redhead’s door, keeping the item he was holding flush to his side.

I’m no time, Kirishima’s door opened revealing the taller boy, his hair up in a ponytail that swished when he moved his head.

In the front of his hair was a couple dark shadow shaped clips and the boy seems to be wearing a dark cloak.

“Yo Midoriya! What’s up?” He smiled wide, his dimples on display.

“Oh, I heard-uhm that you needed something cool to wear to the sleep over tonight and brought you this.” He grabbed the item from

his hip and unfolded it to show Kirishima.

It was a onesie version of Midoriya’s hero outfit and had a pair of long green ears on the hood.

Kirishima only stared at it, making Midoriya a bit nervous that maybe it wasn’t cool or manly in this case.

“I know I may not be the coolest looking hero..” Midoriya started, looking down a bit in embarrassment.

“Well that’s bullshit!” Kirishima cursed, Midoriya looks back up to see a determined look to his face, eyes shining like rubies with emotion.

“I would be honored to wear this cool ass onesie!” Kirishima put up a finger to signal he needed a moment and closed the door.

In no time, he popped back up in the door way, looking way too adorable in the Deku sleepwear.

It was a bit tight looking but it was never in Deku’s DNA to complain about trivial things.

“What do you think? Am I not the coolest number one hero around?” He put the hood up , displaying the large ears that stood straight up on his head.

“Number one?” Midoriya’s face turned a light pink at implication

“Fuck yeah, dude! And when you’re on that podium and people are cheering you on like-“ He put his hands up to his mouth and cheered quietly “oh my god, we love you so much Deku! You’re so awesome and smart!” He put a hand on Midoriya’s shoulder, “Just know I’ll be in that crowd, and I’ll drag Bakugou’s ass in that crowd too. Ok?” His bright, toothy smile made Midoriya’s heart beat just a little too fast to be normal.

“Ok.” Midoriya smiled back, braces and all.

——-

“Hey Kirishima! You want some of my merch-“ Mineta asked but was cut off when Kirishima suddenly turned around.

“Ew, Fuck No.” Kirishima said as he walked towards his friend group and away from the short grape.

Mina cackled her ass off as Bakugou nodded in approval.

——-

Aoyama gives Kirishima pair of sunglasses designed to look like their hero one because they wouldn’t want Kirishima to be blinded by their sparkle.

Kirishima smiles brightly and Aoyama takes the sunglasses back and puts them on themself, saying that they need it more than he does.

—

Bakugou throws a shirt that looks like a skull shirt but it’s made from the word fuck you, Kirishima wears it proudly.

In reality, it’s his own shirt that he wanted Kirishima to have without the redhead getting suspicious.

—-

Jirou gives him a Deep Dope brand speaker and they end up dancing around crazily to some music playing from his phone.

—-

Todoroki got him a simple half red and half white heeadband, something that Kirishima wears constantly.

——

Sero gave him a charm bracelet with a tape dispenser on it that Kirishima also never takes off.

——-

Someone asks what Kirishima does with all the merch the class keeps giving him.

He has special cork board on his wall and a special box for it all.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

@deepseawave this is a small story dedicated to you! I hope you like it!!

#mina ashido #boku no hero academia #bnha #eijirou kirishima #bnha kirishima #mha kirishima #todoroki shouto #sero hanta #yuga aoyama #katsuki bakugou #kiribaku #kirisero #kiribowl #kirichako #depending on how you see it #if you see it as more #thats cool #midoria izuku #kirideku #kirikami #ashido mina #denki kaminari #kyoka jirou #uraraka ochacho #grape is in it for shits and giggles #kiriida #iidakiri #iida senpai heh #yaoyorozu momo #tooru hagakure

[leafyfoots]

Rustic Evening Sky - Beorning

A disaster zone of an outfit when it comes to matching the correct shades of blue, but the cloak was too pretty to not at least give it a whirl. It is such a finicky item to use though. I didn’t even take nice screenshots for IG, but I’ll document it here for posterity.

I've had the Cloak of the Banisher for a while now, and I really like the design. However, I have the drop version which cannot be dyed, so my goal was to match the blue as best as possible with similar tones of earthy bronze. Unfortunately for me, the best way to describe this default blue is "dirty evendim blue", which means that I needed to find items that have a very strong grey-tone for the dyeable sections. As it turns out, that was basically impossible. Every item I found would dye either a few shades to bright in evendim blue or a few shades too dark in ered luin blue. On top of that, ered luin blue has a purple undertone and steel blue has a greenish undertone -- neither of which match the cloak's default blue. I think the closest I got was evendim blue on the Gala-worthy Shoulders, which also have a brown trim that is ever so slightly more cool-toned than the bronze trim of the cloak.

For the legs, I wanted something with a little more volume. The silhouette from the Moria leggings were a good option. The medium version comes with a brown fur design, which matched the edge of the Woodland Ranger's Hood as well as sort of matched the other browns in the outfit. Of course, I'm not going to stop complaining about this -- lo and behold, the blues do not match! This leg piece has a bit of a warm tint on the dyeable sections and is especially pronounced in the ered luin blue and steel blue version. Unfortunately, the tint wasn't that dark either, so evendim blue was too bright. I settled for ered luin blue, but it's a couple shades too purplish compared to the cloak. To bring some of the gold and more texture to the feet, I went with the trusty Boots of Lady's Power and gave up. With some after effects or post-processing on an image, the variations in the blue shades are probably not that noticeable.

In the end, the combination of the Moria leggings and autumn chestpiece felt very "armor-ish" and unbalanced color-wise, so I switched in the Leaf-turner tunic in evendim blue with the Entwining Blossoms circlet for a festival variant. This version emphasizes the contrasting bronze detailing against evening blue sky color, and is more appropriate for gallivanting around Midsummer Minas Tirith! The cloak and tunic are a match made in heaven when it comes to the bronze accents, but again, I had some trouble with getting a similar enough blue shade.

Head: Woodland Ranger's Hood - ered luin blue Shoulder: Gala-worthy Mantle - evendim blue Chest: Tunic of the Autumn Traveller - walnut brown Glove: Gauntlets of the Wall-warden - umber Leg: Leggings of the Great Bow - ered luin blue Boot: Boots of the Lady's Power - default Back: Cloak of the Banisher - default

Head: Circlet of Entwining Blossoms - default Shoulder: Gala-worthy Mantle - evendim blue Chest: Tunic of the Leaf-turner - evendim blue Glove: Gauntlets of the Wall-warden - umber Boot: Boots of the Lady's Power - default Back: Cloak of the Banisher - default

#lotro #female beorning #beorning #female human #human #champion #ered luin blue #evendim blue #walnut brown #gold #cosmetic outfit #midsummer festival #Lotro à la Mode #Leafyfoots Wardrobe

[archadianskies]

19 + 18 + 17, Simarkus!

(soulmates + tattoo artist + skin hunger)

→ on Ao3

It isn’t the flashiest, slickest tattoo parlour but for Simon and Daniel ‘Jericho’ is the place where they can truly be free. It’s a place that’s all theirs, a place they carved out with hard work, with blood, sweat, and tears- so so many tears. 

At first it had been just the two of them, as it had always been ever since they were sixteen and kicked out by their parents, and then Josh joined them, and then North, and since that day they have been known as the Jericho Four. They each have a speciality: Daniel specialises in painterly techniques, of colourul swathes that washed over the skin; Josh specialises in minimalism, of crisp, strong black lines; North specialises in text, of a thousand fonts at the ready to speak their mind. 

As for Simon, well, Simon has never been good at any of that stuff. He’s much better at caring for others, at nurturing and soothing and so that’s why Jericho has a cafe inside of it. He cooks, he bakes, he brews for both the customers being tattooed and for any family or friends hanging around for support. Sometimes they don’t come in for a tattoo at all, and Simon finds himself serving students and workers on their lunch break. 

It isn’t ever going to make them rich, but it’s enough to get by comfortably and really, that’s all Simon could ever want. 

 “Got a pretty complex booking tomorrow.” Danny whistles low as he scrolls through the email on his laptop. Simon looks up from his book, interest piqued, and scoots closer to him on the couch. 

“Oh?” His twin tilts the laptop slightly, showing a beautiful geometric explosion at the heart of a glowing blue triangle, as if it were in the midst of shattering outward. 

“He’s asking for white ink for some of the lines, so it’ll glow under black light. This is a seriously massive piece.” Danny nods, impressed. “Multiple sessions, with extra surcharge for the white ink. He’s already sent the down-payment, so he’s definitely committed.”

“That’s a crazy amount of work.” Simon reaches over to click on the image so he can zoom in. “It’ll be stunning when it’s done. Where does he want it? On his back?”

“No, over his chest. The fragments will spill over onto his shoulder too.” Danny clicks onto the next image, of the design overlaid on a male silhouette. “I blocked off the entire afternoon for this.”

“Then you better rest up.” Simon taps his temple. “Big day tomorrow.”

 It’s a slow going day but Simon loves those best. It’s even raining outside, which only adds to the soft cosy mood inside Jericho. With no other clients booked except for Danny’s new one, Simon finds himself sitting at a table with the other three sharing a freshly baked pear tea cake. The tattooists have their sketchbooks out, and Simon loses himself to the sound of the rain and the scrape of their pencils. There’s some semblance of inner peace to be found, he thinks, just in these sounds. 

The door opens, and the muffled pattering of the rain turns into a roar momentarily as someone rushes in. Simon stands automatically, switching back into his hospitality role. 

“Good afternoon, welcome to Jericho.” He greets the hooded man neatly securing his folded umbrella.

“Hi, I’m a bit early for my appointment but I thought I’d come in out of the rain since I was around anyway.” 

“Mark S., booking with artist Daniel Lambert.” Simon nods. “Would like a coffee and something to eat while you wait?” The hood falls back and that’s definitely not some stranger named Mark S. “Oh you’re-”

“Markus Manfred.” Josh finishes behind him, standing in surprise. “It’s- wow. You’re really here. I saw your thesis at the Museum of Modern Art. I marched with you last Fall. I thought you were in London researching for your upcoming mural?”

“Just got in last night, actually.” Markus grins, offering his hand for Josh to shake. There he is, Markus Manfred, adopted son of Carl Manfred; artist and activist in equal measure. “A little jetlagged and still adjusting to the timezone, but I’m here in one piece.”

“You did that portrait series on the Eden Club workers.” North adds, offering her hand to shake.

“With my brother Leo, yes.” Markus shakes her hand firmly. “They needed a medium to tell their stories, and we were honoured to oblige.”

“So what’s the story about this tattoo, then?” Danny pulls up another chair to their table, and Markus takes a seat. 

“I want to build on one I already have. I want to make it mine, because the original wasn’t my design.” He shrugs, leaning back comfortably in the chair. “I actually intend to commission tattoos from each of you, to tell my story. I use cloth and brick walls as my canvas, but I want my body to be a canvas for you.”

“I don’t know if you’re being eloquent or cheesy as fuck, but this is the most interesting commission I’ve ever been given so I’ll let it slide.” Danny smirks wryly and Simon smacks his shoulder.

“Behave.” He turns to Markus, and this close he can see those famous heterochromic eyes. “Coffee?”

“Yes please. And a slice of whatever this cake is, if there’s any left.” Markus grins, tapping the closest plate. “Smells divine and I bet it tastes just as heavenly.”

 He’s seen a lot of half naked bodies. It comes with the job- not his in particular, but well, Danny’s and the fact the parlour is tucked just behind the cafe. Simon’s gotten used to seeing people in various states of undress, so used to handing nearly nude people coffees and slices of cake. 

He’s not ready for Markus Manfred to take off his sweater and shirt, revealing a body surely identical to the grandiose marble sculptures that used to grace the ancient world. Not wanting to delay his tattoo appointment, the artist had picked up his cup after finishing his cake, carrying it to Danny’s station at the back and promptly undressing. Simon doesn’t know why he followed, but his feet seemed to carry him after them.

“Fuck.” Danny exhales. “That’s a Kamski.”

Markus looks down at his chest, at the glowing circle at the end of his sternum. His grin is sheepish as he scratches his nape and takes a seat. “Yeah, it is.”

“No way, an original Kamski? Not a Camden?” North follows into the room, Josh behind her. “From before he left CyberLife?”

“Thirium ink. I thought I’d never see one up close.” Josh breathes, voice tinged with awe. “When he left CyberLife he took the formula with him. Their tattoos use an inferior ink with a lower thirium ratio.”

“Well we definitely don’t have pure thirium ink here, sorry bud.” Danny pats his shoulder and Markus laughs. 

“No, I know. I don’t want another tattoo like this one. I want one I designed.” Markus clarifies. “This is my story.” 

 Josh has a thousand questions, and Markus seems happy to answer them. Selfishly, Simon goes to the front door and turns the sign to say ‘Closed’, locking the door so no one else will disturb them. He makes another round of coffees and carries them to the back. Danny has his noise-cancelling headphones on to tune everyone out so he can work. Josh has dragged his chair closer, and North is sitting on her tattooist bench. Simon hands everyone a new cup and takes a seat at Josh’s vacated bench.

“Do you think we’ll ever reach that stage though? Artificial intelligence that can think for itself?” Josh asks curiously and Markus hums in thought.

“I think so. It’s the issue with making them look human, though. The moment we make androids is the moment we divide the world.”

“What do you mean?” North frowns. “Wouldn’t that, I dunno, be a good thing? People get attached to roombas. What more when there’s robots that look like us?”

“That’s what I mean though.” Markus clarifies. “Half of us would anthropomorphise them, and the other half would reject them completely, unable to bridge the fact they are different from us. Humans find it hard enough to treat each other with compassion, what more when there’s an android that looks just like them but is a machine?”

“Then I suppose an android revolution would happen.” North shrugs with a laugh. “If we ever treated them like shit, then we’d deserve the revolution coming for us.”

“I don’t believe it would come to that, I believe we are an intelligent, compassionate race.” Josh argues. “We would achieve integration and acceptance through dialogue.”

“And you- Simon, isn’t it?” Markus turns his head slightly to catch his gaze. “Where do you weigh in, in this theoretical android revolution?”

He wrings his hands, frowning. “I wouldn’t really ever want to take part in it.” A confession of cowardice, but an honest one at least. “I’d just want those I love to be safe. I’d- I’d go somewhere and wait it out, I guess. But if they needed help, I’d help them. I’m not sure how I’d help with caffeine and baked goods, but...I suppose if they needed a place to stay, a place to hide I could give them that much.”

“He’s a softie.” North pretends to ‘whisper’, shooting Simon a grin. “But he’s got grit, and will get the job done.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Markus smiles at him, and Simon, honest to god, hand over heart, swears the world slowed for just a moment so he could enjoy it. “Kindness in the face of a cold, cruel, apathetic world is an act of bravery, of defiance.”     

 They talk and they talk and Simon loses track of time until Danny takes off his headphones.

“Ok Christ I need a pee break.” He bins his gloves and makes shooing motions at Markus. “Go on, you too, before I start the next part.” He leads him away and North crosses over to sit next to Simon, elbowing him.

“I’m a flaming homo but that boy is…” She clicks her tongue as she makes an ‘ok’ sign with her fingers. “Gorgeous.” 

“Who cares about that, he’s so-” Josh struggles to verbalise his thoughts, making a frustrated gesture with his hands. “He’s so beautifully compassionate and driven. He spoke at the protest I marched at, but only briefly. Hearing his thoughts, hearing his opinions here in private is just...something else.”

“Simon has stars in his eyes.” North teases, poking his cheek. He bats her hand away.

“I do not. I’m staring a healthy amount. Surely no one should look that beautiful and still be human, right?” He asks, exasperated. “He has freckles. Everywhere. He has the body of a marble statue. He speaks like a Roman orator. Or some Greek philosopher. He has one blue eye and one green eye for god’s sake, who let him loose on the world?”

“The more important question is,” North jabs his side, causing him to yelp “is he single?”

“Oh, yeah, because he’s going to be so interested in a coffee boy at a tattoo parlour.” Simon rolls his eyes. “I have so much to offer.”

“You do, Simon.” Josh frowns. “I do take offense to that. You’re a wonderful person, you gave North and I a chance when no one else would. You found us at our worst and helped us become who we are today.”

“Pretty boy would be lucky to have you.” North pecks his cheek. “I mean it.”

 They end up ordering Mexican because it’s already six o’clock the next time anybody checks and Markus seems content to stay a little longer. Somehow in the span of an afternoon he feels like he’s always belonged right here in their little quartet. Even if he’s sitting there half naked with cling film wrapped taut around his freshly inked chest and shoulders. 

“Ok Danny,” North fixes him with a serious look, “important question: where do you stand in the android revolution?”

“In the-” Danny makes a face. “Is this the shit you guys were talking about while I was working?”

“Well not the whole time.” Markus laughs. “Though I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

“I dunno. Would we be able to afford one?” Danny scoops salsa onto a chip and pops it into his mouth. “I’d treat them well, I guess. Make ‘em feel part of the family. If you treat them badly, they could snap and then you’d deserve what’s coming to you.”

“We’re years- decades away from that kind of tech.” Simon shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter right now.”

“It does.” Markus objects. “They might not be real now, or maybe not ever, but how we treat anything not human is a reflection of ourselves. They’re mirrors held up to test our humanity.”

“This is way too deep for Mexican on a Wednesday.” Danny declares through a mouthful of food. “Just putting it out there.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” He laughs, expression apologetic. “I swear I’m not like this all the time.”

“Pineapple on pizza?” North demands, pointing an accusing finger. “Wrong answer sends you out the door.”

“Can I abstain from answering until I finish my dinner?”

“I’ll allow it.” A pause as she narrows her eyes threateningly. “But only just.”

 Markus Manfred takes a taxi home at about 8pm and Simon doesn’t quite know if any of it’s real, if any of it actually happened. It has to have happened, because there’s another session booked to occur in exactly three weeks. He loads the dishwasher as Danny takes out the trash, waving to Josh and North as they take their leave. Three weeks and Markus will return. How will he fill his time until then?

He doesn’t need to wait three weeks, in fact, because Markus comes back the very next day.

“Hey.” A greeting paired with a thousand kilowatt smile, easy and charming. 

“Good morning Markus.” Simon blinks in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Is something wrong? Did you need Danny to have a look at the tattoo? Is it bleeding too much?”

“Actually,” he grins and oh it’s far too early for Simon to process such a sight “I was hoping for a cup of coffee and some breakfast?”

“Oh.” He nods numbly. “Y-yes of course. What can I get for you?” 

“Strong black with honey, and something bread-y.” Markus takes a seat at one of the tables. “I thought I’d get some work done here. It’s wonderfully private.” A nice way of saying it’s not a bustling Starbucks, Simon thinks wryly, but he’ll take it. He serves him a large mug of coffee and a thick slice of banana bread and tries not to stare too much at Markus’ elegant hands as he takes out a sketchbook and thumbs through it idly. 

“What gave you the idea of this tattoo?” Simon asks curiously as he spots early sketches of the tattoo design. He takes a seat opposite him, nursing his own large mug of coffee.

“I wanted to shatter through the wall of self-doubt, of anxiety that held me back.” Markus smiles softly, eyes roaming the page. “Growing up in Carl Manfred’s shadow wasn’t easy but a lot of it was all in my head. Dad has never been anything but encouraging to us, as Leo and I both branched out on our own artistic journeys. What held me back was my own fear to leave the safety of his name and stand on my own.”

“Shattering the red wall.” Simon nods slowly. “I guess we all have that moment, don’t we? A moment where we have to decide whether to stay behind it where we’re safe but also changeless, or fight and shatter it, to find our own way.”

“Did you have one, Simon?” He seeks his eyes with such an earnest expression. “A moment where you had to choose to shatter the red wall?”

“We didn’t have much choice.” A heavy sigh. “It was shattered for us, by our parents. We got kicked out at sixteen, and there was no red wall left to hide behind safely. We only had each other, and the only way was forward.”

Markus reaches over and squeezes Simon’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” He says with such sincerity Simon believes it. 

“It’s alright. Jericho is where we can be truly free.” He smiles tiredly. “This place is everything to us, and Josh and North are like family. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“Why call it Jericho?” Markus picks up a pencil, turns to a blank page and starts sketching.

“It was the name of an old freighter.” It’s been almost fifteen years, Simon thinks, but the memory is still sore. “We hid there for a while, when we didn’t have anywhere to go. It was falling apart but it was dry and safe. It was home.” And now home is here, home is just upstairs and it’s dry and safe but also warm and full of love. Simon props his chin on his palm. “Feels both like a lifetime ago and just yesterday, to be honest.”

“Grief and trauma are not linear experiences.” Markus shakes his head, eyes candid. “What you experienced at sixteen will always be valid. Our growth is measured in how we cope with that pain, with all we’ve learned over the years.”

It stuns him to hear it, and he feels his mouth open and close as he tries and fails to reply with something coherent. Markus scratches his nape sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’m doing it again aren’t I? Sounding like some cheesy self-help inspirational poster.” 

“I’ve just never been told that before.” Simon admits, smile wobbly. “I guess I’m just so used to taking everything in stride and carrying on. I bury everything deeply, in the hopes I never really have to process it.”

“Then it just rots, Simon.” Markus reaches out again, placing his hand over his and giving a reassuring squeeze. “There’s no chance for growth if the roots are rotten.”

He looks down at their hands, and it’s as though his heart wants to soak up the contact, wants to drink it in as though he’s parched. It’s not as though he lacks affectionate touch, they’ve always been an affectionate quartet of friends, but it’s more like he can never get enough. Markus very gently rubs the back of his hand with his thumb in slow, light strokes. Heat pools in his cheeks.

“I’m alright now. I’m much much better here.” Simon smiles, and though it’s a little shaky it’s real and heartfelt. “I’m happy and I’m safe, and we’re financially secure, so what more can I ask for?”

“I’m glad.” He says, and Simon knows he means it.

 Though he knows it’s selfish, Simon finds himself hoping Markus will drop by for breakfast often. He finds himself inexplicably drawn to him, and his heart leaps into his throat every time the handsome artist opens the door and strides to the counter with confident, purposeful steps. He always has a kind word for all of them, always has a brilliant dashing smile and Simon’s been very careful with heart over the years, but he’d be kidding himself if he said he wasn’t head over heels for Markus. 

“How’s the mural coming along?” He asks as he sets down a steaming mug of coffee.

“Pretty good. Most of the underlayer is down, but it’s forecast to rain for nearly the whole week so I’ve got to postpone it a bit.” Markus sighs wearily. “That’s alright. I’ve got another piece I’m working on in the studio, so I don’t really mind. How’s things here?”

“We had another customer with an original Kamski.” Simon tells him, and Markus raises his brows in surprise. “I know right? What are the chances of having two of you come within the span of a fortnight? She’s a ballerina. I’m pretty sure North’s in love with her.” 

“That would be Ms. Chloe Hersh.” Markus smiles. “I’ve met her only once at an art gala but she’s very lovely. She is the original Kamski. The recipient of the very first thirium tattoo.” 

“That’s amazing. How lucky we are to have the two of you stumble upon our tiny little parlour.” Simon muses as Markus laughs softly. 

“Simon we didn’t find this place out of luck, we sought it out.” He says knowingly, as if it’s always been a fact Simon overlooked. “There’s talent here, and warmth and kindness and really good coffee and the most amazing tea cakes ever.” He finishes with a wink, and Simon knows he’s absolutely done for.

*~* 

When Markus arrives for his second session, there’s barely any preamble before he’s hanging up his coat and stripping off until he’s shirtless. The linework has healed, meaning Danny can progress with the colour. Simon sets down his coffee and a berry muffin on the little table by chair, and tries his very best not to stare. 

“We dropped by Greektown to see the mural yesterday.” Josh says from across the room. “It’s coming along beautifully.”

“Thanks.” Markus smiles. “Weather finally cleared so I’ve been trying to cram in as much as I can before it turns bad again.”

“You’re doing the backdrops for the ballet next, right?” North hops up onto her bench. “Chloe told me.”

“Yeah, it’s my next project and my brother is doing the promo shoot for it.” He settles into position, taking a gulp of coffee before Danny guides him to stay still so he can begin. “It’ll be fun, it’s a modern Anna Karenina.”

“Small world huh? Or maybe you Kamski originals are all like, telepathic because of the fancy ink.” North teases, and Markus chuckles.

“Oh no you’ve figured it all out. That’s the real reason Elijah Kamksi invented a new ink- to make a group of improved humans.”

“I’d believe it.” North snorts back a laugh. “His house looks like a supervillain lair.”

They fall into easy conversation, and Simon leaves occasionally to serve a customer at the front or bring more drinks and food. North eventually moves off to start working on a client, and Josh finishes his final session on another. 

It’s as the afternoon is winding down that Simon starts to see the small telltale signs of pain on Markus’ face. Over the sternum is one of the most painful areas of the body given the thinner layers of fat, muscle and skin and as Danny moves to start layering the colour, sweat begins to bead on Markus’ forehead as his brows pinch together. 

Automatically Simon reaches for his hand, returning the reassuring squeeze he’d given him the week before. Markus tilts his head slightly and gives him a grateful look, grip tightening the longer Danny works over the sensitive area. 

“Hey, you’re doing great.” Simon murmurs, mimicking his earlier actions as he rubs his thumb over the back of his hand soothingly. “And it’s looking beautiful too. It’s all worth it, I promise.”

Markus nods numbly, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth as Danny progresses further down his sternum. Simon doesn’t leave his side, and it’s only when Danny sits back and removes his headphones does he realise he hasn’t let go of his hand either.

 They order burgers and fries from a diner not too far away, Markus joining them for dinner after the parlour is closed. With each visit it feels less and less like he’s a stranger and more as if he’s family. 

Discussions and conversations flow, and he’s interesting and verbose even if tonight he’s a little more tired than usual: a marathon tattoo session definitely does that to a person, and Danny is much the same. When he’s wiping down the table, he sees Danny pull Markus aside just before Markus leaves. He says something, his expression serious, and Markus nods solemnly before leaving to catch his taxi.

“Did you tell him about the aloe vera?” Simon asks as his twin brother returns to his side to help him clean up.

“Uh yeah. Definitely needs a higher level of care this time around and I told him to send me photos if his skin acts up so I can tell him what it’ll need.” Danny shrugs, not bothering to hide his yawn. “Next session will be the last unless he wants further detailing.”

“I think it’s your best work yet.” Simon compliments, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I mean it.”

“Thanks Si.” Danny smiles tiredly, bumping his forehead to his. “C’mon. Dying to go upstairs and sprawl on the couch with a beer.”

 *~*

He hopes like last time Markus will appear for breakfast, but it’s not to be. He tries not to get his hopes up, tries not to look too eager every time the door opens. Markus doesn’t stop by for over two weeks, in fact, and Simon tries not to feel despondent as the days go by without his presence. 

The mural for Bellini Paints at Greektown is announced as complete on social media, and they go to see it during lunch on a sunny Tuesday. It’s a beautiful piece, taking up an entire wall at the entrance to the arcade where Bellini is housed. Sweeps of colour streak across the brickwork in graceful arcs, coming together to form a pair of hands holding a palette and paintbrush; a work of art about a work of art in progress. Simon thinks it’s stunning, and the sheer scale of it is enough to leave him awestruck. He takes a photo and sets it as his background, so he can admire the colours whenever he wants.

When Markus arrives for his final session, he brings a large canvas with him. It’s covered with a sheet, and tied carefully with twine to secure it.

“Hey, Simon.” His smile has an apology in it. “Sorry I haven’t dropped by recently. It’s been pretty crazy trying to finish the mural and I had this other project on the side.”

“We went to see the Bellini mural yesterday, it’s stunning.” Simon finds himself smiling wistfully. “The colours are just so vibrant, it suits the store perfectly.”

“Thanks, I’m pretty proud of it.” He holds out the canvas. “This is for you.”

“...For...me?” Simon gawks at him, unmoving. Markus Manfred is handing him a canvas. Markus Manfred. The artist leans in.

“That means you have to take it from my hands, Simon.” He ‘whispers’ and Simon scrambles to take the canvas, laying it down ever so carefully on one of the tables so he can unwrap it. It’s a painting of Jericho, of his family; there’s Danny, there’s Josh, there’s North and yes, even him. It’s a beautiful flurry of colours and exaggerated brushstrokes, and they’re crowded around a table eating tea cake and drinking coffee, with sketchbooks laid around.

“When I first came here, it was like coming home.” Markus lays his hand over Simon’s and it’s only belatedly that he realises he’s shaking. “I felt welcomed, and I felt at peace. I felt like I’ve always been here. That’s the magic of this place, Simon. That’s your magic.” 

“Markus I- this is too generous, I couldn’t possibly-!”

“You can. I painted this for you.” Markus moves to hold his other hand too, coaxing him to face him. “Because you are the heart of this place. You may not have had a choice to break through your red wall, but you persevered. You are so much stronger than you think, Simon.”

The tears come even though he gave them no permission to, and Markus gently draws him into a comforting embrace. Over the years he’s only ever had Danny, and more recently Josh and North. There was never any time to dwell on the hurt, there was and is only the path forward; if he stopped for even a moment to think back on what he survived it would swallow him up. To have Markus affirm his strength, to have him acknowledge the pain and his progression is far too much for him to process. 

“Did you make my brother cry?!” Danny demands, appearing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “What the fuck did you say to him?!”

“Danny, look.” Simon wipes his eyes clumsily, pulling back a little in Markus’ arms so he can point at the painting on the table. “Markus painted this for us.”

“...You what?” Danny’s brows nearly disappear into his hairline as he spots the canvas. “Is this- are you for real?”

“I mean, well, yeah. It’s real and I made it.” Markus grins sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to make your brother cry though.” 

“...Holyshit. Uh. Wow. Thanks?” 

“It’s 3pm, shall we get started on my session?” Markus seeks his eyes. “Is that alright, Simon?”

“Oh! Yes, of course! Sorry I’ll um- I’ll cover this up and take it upstairs so it’ll be safe.” 

He has to hide upstairs for a good fifteen minutes just to make sense of what just happened. He’s holding an original Manfred in his hands, and gifted to him no less. It’s not just a pretty painting, it’s a work of art of his family, making it absolutely precious and priceless. He resists the urge to hug the canvas to his chest, instead laying it on the coffee table before returning downstairs to the parlour. 

Danny’s already started, headphones on and brows creased in concentration by the time Simon brings in a tray of coffees and some black tea and honey cupcakes. Markus offers him a slightly pained smile, and Simon immediately sits beside him and holds his hand.

“Would you” Markus flicks his eyes over to make sure Danny isn’t paying attention “like to go to dinner with me on Friday?”

“...I’m sorry?” 

“Oh, does Friday not work for you? Wait, the parlour’s open longer on Friday nights, sorry.” Markus nods in understanding. “How about Saturday?”

“No I- I’m- the- Friday is- I mean, you’re...asking me to dinner?” Simon stammers, feeling his cheeks flush as Markus strokes his thumb over the back of his hand.

“I’m certainly not asking Daniel.” He cocks a brow, grin mischievous as Simon feels his cheeks grow hotter. 

“Um Friday is fine. I’d love to.” He frowns. “I can’t believe you’re asking me out to dinner while my brother holds a very sharp object against your skin.”

“He already knows. He threatened to stab me if I ever broke your heart.” Markus admits, and Simon realises that’s what Danny must’ve said to him last time right before he left. “Which is fair, really. If I ever broke your heart I’d deserve that. But I’ll do my best to look after it very well, I promise.” 

“Then I’ll see you on Friday.” Simon finds himself unable to stop smiling. Markus brings their clasped hands to his lips, kissing Simon’s knuckles.

“I’m really looking forward to- ow!” Markus yelps as Danny applies just a little more force than necessary.

“Don’t flirt with my brother until I’m done.” Danny orders, voice a little too loud to compensate for the music blaring in his headphones. He fixes Markus with a stern glare, and Markus nods obediently. “Good. Now stay still.”

*~* 

The finished piece is spectacular, truly Danny’s best work. The lines are crisp, the colours are vibrant, and it’s really as if the shards are exploding outwards from the ghostly outlined blue triangle. It’s taken just over a month to heal properly, with luckily only minimal scabbing. 

Simon admires the work, watching it come alive with each inhale and exhale, with each rise of fall of Markus’ broad, toned chest; a boy breaking out of his father’s shadow to forge his own path as a man of his own making. He traces the triangle carefully with his finger, touch featherlight. Markus hums, a small sound in the back of his throat as his lips curve upward in a lazy smile. 

“Tickles.” He mumbles, capturing Simon’s hand and bringing it to his lips so he can press kisses to his fingers. Opening his mismatched eyes, he blinks at Simon sleepily before rolling over and pulling him flush against his body. They’re delightfully, sinfully bare beneath the covers, legs tangled, and it’s somehow still almost downright scandalous to Simon every time it happens. “Hey gorgeous.” 

“Good morning, my love.” Simon greets in return shyly, and Markus smiles at those words, pressing their mouths together one, twice, thrice insistently. It’s a hungry, desperate beast, this thing called love; selfish and needy and somehow never sated but that seems to suit them just fine. They’ll drink each other in and drown wholly, completely, in the wonderful chaos; two halves of one whole. 

This is the freedom they found, this is the freedom they earned, and the red wall lies in shards at their feet.     

*~*~*

(Markus’ tattoo is similar to this, something like the moment when androids deviate in the game)

#simarkus #dbh markus #dbh simon #detroit: become human #me: oh i'll keep it short and sweet! #also me: 5;5k sounds about right #caleb crow #adventures in text posts #annie writes: dbh

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Mano eu amo vc kkklkklk só entro aqui pelo meu amado Royai , Todomomo e por Vc , amo headcannons do Chisaki com enfermeiras 😏 queria ele com uma no tartarus , e ele dando chilique pq só quer ser atendido por ela kkkkk ( se não for abusar ) bjs

"Man I love you kkklkklk I only come here for my beloved Royai, Todomomo and for you, I love Chisaki's headcannons with nurses 😏 I wanted him with one at the tartarus, and he giving a tantrum because he just wants to be attended to by her kkkkk (if not to abuse) kisses"

"MISS (L/N)!" a young male nurse had just barged into the room you were currently on, and the poor thing seemed both devasted and like he was attacked by something.

"Woah there kiddo calm down!" You exclaimed while getting up, holding the poor young worker's shoulder as he breathed in and out desperately, somehow finding comfort in you again. "What's wrong? Did you went to All for One's cell and he sayed bullshit and then you fell down the stairs?" You giggled while the poor young man growled.

Being a worker on the the most famous villains prison always did indeed messes up with your mind... Tartarus had the most dangerous and cruelest villains ever that Japan had, and clearly sometimes ghey did messed up with tbe workers minds... or at least try it to.

"N-no... please just go talk with the guard outside. I can't deal with this anymore. I don't get ONE STEP closer to that man's cell!" He exclaimed while abruptly getting a cup of coffee on the machine.

You blinked at that and hesitantly walked out of the rest room to be met with one guard and your superior.

"Good morning gentlemans. What's gotten into him?" The guard huffed a puff of irritated air as he pointed with his chin at one direction while your superior sighed in desperation.

"The same thing that happened with the other four nurses that covered your shift on that man's cell (Y/n)... no one can enter that place besides you, is a fact by now." You tilted your head in confusion before the guard manifested.

"That bastard Chisaki, miss (y/n). Even without his arms the son of a bitch can still kick anyone's ass who dares to take one step inside his cell.... except you apparently. "

You really had to hold back your laughter at that one.

Overhaul, Chisaki Kai. He was the new prisoner that had just got in Tartarus one year by now... you were the first; your coworkers sayed 'poor soul'; one to get inside and talk face to face with the villain as you explained to him.

His eyes were so empty and yet so full of terror... only nodding and shooking his head numbly, not even dating to meet your eyes... but even despite that he was still a very arrogant and stubborn man, not letting you touch him by any means for the first few visits you made.

You were patient though... making small conversations, slowly getting why he was here exactly... hearing him talk instead of hearing humors or reading his profile.

After some weeks he allowed you to touch him with gloves; you threatened to his wounds and let him vent... you knew he needed that more than anything by that moment, and you were more than glad to hear that beautiful voice...

After you hearf what exactly took his arms away you were shocked, disgusted and sad... surprising the man in so many levels.

After months of talkating, threating and knowing each other, he was slightly infatuated by you, and the moment you explained to him you were quirkless was just the cherry on top for Chisaki to threat you completely different than his forst meeting with you.

He wouldn't at least complain THAT MUCH when you feeded him at least... both arms losted made the simplest activities seem like it was impossible.

Although there was this one time you couldn't come and sended one friend of yours instead while you took care of a newbie on the prison..

Poor woman came back traumatized and asked to leave her job the next day.

Then another time when you were sick, knewing about Chisaki's mysophobia you asked gently another coworker to go in there instead of you.

The man came back with a beaten up face and in the end the nurse needed to be treated...

This happened at least four times by now... and always ended on the same thing.

"(Y/N), not even us can enter his cell. He knocked out at least five or six guards of ours..." the man exhale desperate.

"And had the nerve of demanding your presence and leaving me with a damn scar on the left side of my face." Yhe guard showed it to you the medium scar adoring his jaw.

"Jesus Christ..." you whispered with widen eyes as you sended him to see the nurse inside, he had a minor healing quirk to that would help a bit... at least.

"Please (y/n) go into his cell, he hadn't eaten anything the whole day and didn't changed his bandages... and with the fight he had with our guards and nurse he surely afquired more bruises." You nodded before picking your stuff and walking towards Overhaul's cell.

You placed your card and passed through the door which quickly closed, safety measures in there were serious, as you looked around the cell and smiled at seing the back of the man sitting on his bed.

"You need to stop doing that you know?" Your voice caught his attention as he turned his front to you with a monotonously look while you gave him a sweet but yet nervous smile, pointing at outside.

"Poor thing looked like he had just come out of a war! What did you even do?" You picked a washcloth and rubbed the hints of blood from the walls, which you couldn't help but wince.

"They sended a incompetent useless brat that surely wouldn't be fit for a decent job." He said numbly before sighing when you sitted on a chair next to his bed.

"Then I do a 'decent job' then?" You giggled while he only stared back at you "I will have you know that one of the womans that came in here were one of our best nurses... until she left her work after covering me that timr." You eyed him with a cocky smile and a eyebrow lifted up.

"Didn't sound like she was. And don't get full of yourself now, you just happen to be only one I can atture." He growled, easing up a bit at hearing your giggling a apology.

Such a sweet thing on this dark, depressed and dangerous place... how surprised yet blessed was he?

Did he really deserved any of your kindness? Any of your sweet as honey words?

You brought up on your bag before breaking apart the chopsticks. He arched kne eyebrow at it before noticing that the usual disgusting food or soup; gosh he hated soup more than germs; that he was served at tartarus weren't in the room.

Placing the pieces together he sighed in annoyance and embarrassment before laying his head on the wall.

"You will be fired for that idiot. Giving a prisoner proper food instead of that disgusting and nauseous things..." you look up at him, already a takoyaki on the chopsticks.

"Don't worry." You chirped "First I told them this was my lunch, then after I lost the hunger. Simple as that!" You sayed cutely while he deadpanned.

"What a poor and dumb strategy."

"Hey! Is a good one!"

"No of course it isn't." He showed with his chin at the camera "Those sick can see us and hear us by now."

"Only see. And like my genius plan will work, we've got nothing to worry about it!"

"You will be fired." He said monotonously but still feeling a painful bitter grow on his chest.

You being fired meaned that you weren't coming back. Others will try to replace you... dumb and idiotics... no one could replace such a divine creature.

"Actually I don't think I would be fired... especially when I am the only one that enters in here that Isn't... you know, knocked out or simply left here terrified of everthing."

He hummed in annoyance before frowning at seing you standing a bit of the food you had for him to eat.

He had to control really hard to not to blush.. he never ever had these problems, so why with you was so... warm and left him without air?

He reluctantly parted his lips, averting his eyes before you placed gently the food inside his mouth.

He sighed in bliss at not feeling the lifeless taste he was used to by now or the disgusting misoshiro soup they offered. The flavors on his mouth giving him a moment.

"Is it good?" He nodded monotonously still munching slowly, averting his gaze away from your at seing you had smiled sweetly at him. "That's a good thing Chisaki-kun!"

He swallowed before feeling shivers of displeasure at hearing that name, he wasn't Overhaul anymore and had demanded you to not call him that either... but his first name? Were you even going to accept it?

"Chisaki? Don't want the rest?" Your voice broked him out of his thoughts as he looked at you extending another small amount of food to him again.

He growled again before accepting and opening his mouth again.

This was humiliating...

After he finished you were relieved at least, since your superior had told you that Chisaki havent eaten anything since your last visit...

"Kai." He suddenly said before you offered him a cup of water.

"Huh?"

"Call me this. Do not call me 'Chisaki-kun', it sound ridiculous, so call me 'Kai' instead."

He looked at you from the conor of his eye and got surprised at seing the hint of pink on your cheeks.

"Ok then.. Kai." You smiled warmly at him and for the first time that you ever met this man, he half smiled.

You wanted to scream at the sign, despite being a villain, you couldn't deny that Chisaki was attractive, but seing him smile? It was just another level.

"U-uh.. Oh! I remembered!" You messed around on your bag before taking out a black surgeon mask, his eyes widening a bit at the sign. "I brought this for you. Sorry for taking too long, im such a cloud head!" You rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment as his eyes still were pierced to the mask.

"Why...?" He asked sorely and weakly, making your soine go cold.

"Well, I know how you aren't the most comfortable in here, and also your mysophobia... so I went to look for masks, but I knew you also prefered black so it took me a while to find it... the majority of them are always white or even blue..."

He looked up at you, eyes full of disbelief yet shock.

"C-Can I put it for you?" It ook a bit of time for him to answer back before he slowly but suspiciously nodded.

Instead of feeling jis skin errup in irritation, he felt waves of electricity and warmth surround all of his body when he felt the tinies and quickiest brush of your fingers on both sides of his face.

He arched one of his eyebrows at you when he heard your whine when you got back. Silently demanding a explanation for that sound.

"Is just that... now I can't see your smile neither your whole beautiful face anymore..." you immediately smacked a hand over your mouth in panic.

Did you really just said that OUT LOUD?!

His low disbelieved yet relieved chuckle made you ease uo a bit before tensing at seing how tjose golden eyes were luff red, but knowing him, he wouldn't let any tear fall, evem if he needed.

"I think you're mistaken things here... you're the... you still have bkth of your arms and also are the... beautiful one... not the lther way around... I'm hideous... not from outside, but inside... can't you see..?" he swallowed the sob before he saw your own eyes tearing up.

"Why are you crying for now?" He asked quite angrily before returning to his cold composture again.

"I guess... its because I think you're the last lerson that deserved to go through this..."

"You're a idiot." He dropped his head hund low "I know you readed and know what I've done, so stop pretending-"

"You just wanted to repay your father... righ Kai?"

He felt his body freeze at your commentary, he slowly looked up at you and cri ged at the sign of you, ghe most beautiful and pure person he ever saw, crying because of him.

"I know how you feel... I'm so sorry. The yakusa shouldn't had ended in that way..."

Before he knew it a sob escaped from his mouth and he immediately cursed out loud. He felt your arms envelope around him, not feeling irritated but instead... relieved.

"I can check on him if you want..." you offered as his silent tears fell from his eyes.

"I did that to him...he just wouldn't accept it and I did that with him... I-" he interrupted himself at feeling your hand to pat his head gently.

"I know... I know." He let himself relax at your body, it was way comfortable than that project of bed of his...

"You better had showered and not to tell this-"

"Showered at least two times today and why would I tell this to someone?" You asked while resting your head on his neck as he did the same with your head.

"... I have no idea. You're definitely the most weird perso I ever met... and I have met plenty."

"Is that a good or a bad thing at least?"

"...good. A... good thing. A weird... angel.." you widened your eyes and vlushed furiously at hearing of what he called you.

You looked up and saw how his eyes were peaceful closed... poor man didn't get good sleep...

A guard passed through and you made a signal to him, clearly telling him to go away and that you were spending your whole shift on here.

You were falling for this criminal... it was wrong? Deadass wrong... but you couldn't control it.

Both of you had putted each other on a spell and didn't even knew it...

#overhaul x reader #overhaul scenario #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #chisaki kai imagine scenario #bnha imagine #bnha characters #bnha villains #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #my writing #zuffer writings

[secretsantasides]

Gift #12: Happy Holidays!

Gift for @xpouii

Each of the sides had their personal favorite part of Christmas. Patton loved baking, Roman loved the Christmas movies, Logan had a secret love for the geometric beauty in cutting out paper snowflakes, Virgil loved having an excuse to escape the madness and indulge in The Nightmare Before Christmas, Deceit loved how acceptable it was to keep his room as hot as he wanted it, and Remus absolutely loved the way blood beaded up on snow. Sure, not everyone understood each others ways of enjoying the holiday season, but there was one thing that they could all enjoy together.

"Secret Santa time!" Patton announced as he ran into the room, Logan's old cogitating cap in his hands. Deceit's bowler hat would've been better, but one side already got scolded for stealing his things and it was a side that, to be frank, Deceit actually kind of liked. So, Patton played it safe with the blue cap, six folded pieces of paper resting inside.

The other three of his best friends, all sitting around the table for breakfast, took turns pulling out a name. Logan and Virgil seemed fairly satisfied with their choices, but-

Roman slammed his hands on the table and stood up. “I need another name.”

Patton smiled apologetically. “No can do, kiddo.. It’s against the rules of Secret Santa.”

“But you don’t understand,” Roman cried out overdramatically, draping himself over the table. “Please, Patton, I have no idea what I’m going to do and if I’m stuck like this, I might just die.”

“Aww..” Patton smiled sympathetically. Sure, it may have been bending the rules a bit, but what fun was Secret Santa if giving the gift made Roman so miserable? “Well... Okay, just this once.”

Roman seemed to snap right back into his normal self, practically leaping over the table as he tossed the name he’d chosen back in and picked another, his smile quickly falling. “You know what, my first choice wasn’t so bad.” He reached to switch back, but was stopped by Patton snatching the hat away. 

“Now, Roman, I’ve already broken the rules of Secret Santa once for you. I think you’re going to do great.” 

Roman groaned and slowly dragged himself back across the table. 

“Are you done or shall I enjoy my breakfast with my plate in my lap?” Logan asked, holding his plate out of Roman’s path of destruction. 

The princely side simply dragged himself back up into a sitting position. “Alright, I’m done. You have no taste for theatrics.” 

“No, I don’t, I thought we established that,” Logan responded. “I especially don’t appreciate having to wonder whether or not my meal is safe on the dining table.” 

Patton chuckled and left, going to the doors that he preferred to stay away from. He took a deep breath and knocked on the first one, counting the scales that decorated the door as he waited. 

The second that the door opened, he was hit with a burst of warm air and greeted with a less than friendly expression, Deceit looking at him with a cocked eyebrow as if to ask what he wanted. 

But, as much as he disagreed with his methods, Deceit was one of Thomas’s sides. So, Patton got rid of his rude thoughts and smiled, thrusting the cap forward. “You have to pick a name for Secret Santa.”

“Secret Santa?” Deceit muttered to himself as he drew a name. 

“Yep! You pick a side randomly and get them a gift and we’ll exchange them on Christmas!” 

“Thank you, Patton, I’ve never heard of such an event,” Deceit muttered, clearly sarcastic. He opened the slip and immediately shut it again, putting it back in the hat and pulling out one of the two that remained. 

Patton chuckled awkwardly as Deceit read his new name. “Deceit, that’s not really-”

“This will work fine. Thank you,” Deceit interrupted, shutting the door and retreating into the warmth of his room. 

Patton just sighed and smiled to himself. At least Deceit was participating. And that only left Remus... 

Patton was still a little freaked out by him and the things he said, but he was still a side and how could Patton justify leaving him out? Just because he had a some icky ideas? No, sir! Patton went right over and knocked on the door, almost regretting it as Remus opened the door. 

“Yes?”

Patton blushed brightly and looked away. Remus must’ve just woken up.. 

“Oh, we all have the same body, no need to be so shy, daddy dearest,” Remus hummed as he leaned against the doorframe. “What’s the hat for?”

“Uh..” 

Remus tutted and shut the door before opening it a second later, now at least in a shirt and shorts. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you..” Patton sighed. He held out the hat. “It’s Secret Santa.”

“Ooh, fun!” Remus grinned widely as he drew a name, laughing to himself. “Oh, no, he would not appreciate a present from me!” He put it back and drew the only other one left. 

At that point, Patton stopped arguing. It was the spirit that counted. Besides, if they were more comfortable with a certain side, then that would only lead to a better night for everyone, right? 

“Alright, this will be fun! Thanks, Patton!” Remus shut his door and Patton smiled to himself. He walked back towards the main area and picked out the last name, giving the hat to Logan as he passed him. 

When he opened it, Remus’s reaction made a lot more sense. And, if Patton was right, so did Deceit’s. He could wish that everyone would get along all he wanted, but ultimately, things were never that easy. Imaginary forces or not. 

When Christmas day finally came around, it seemed way too soon and yet, not soon enough! All six sides gathered around the Christmas tree, their gifts in hand and ready to exchange. 

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Patton asked, his smile shining almost brighter than the tree. 

Virgil reluctantly raised a hand, holding a medium sized box in the other. “I just want to get this out of the way. Here, Princey..” He shoved the box into Roman’s arms before scooting back into his corner. 

Roman smiled and carefully set the gift he’d be giving before tearing open Virgil’s gift. “Oh, how cute!” He reached in and pulled out a well-decorated paper crown. With a satisfied hum, he placed it on top of his head, careful to keep it balanced as he picked his gift back up. “Thank you, Virgil!” 

Virgil fought a smile and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.. It’s just stupid how you call yourself a prince and never even wear a crown or whatever.” Virgil was never a huge gift giver - Halloween was much bigger than Christmas ever was when he was with the others - so he wasn’t sure how to really conjure up anything. Just like with Patton’s card, he clearly preferred giving handmade gifts. They showed some sort of effort, no matter how stupid they might have turned out. And nobody was really expected to wear anything handmade, so he wouldn’t be surprised when Roman didn’t like it. Besides, the coloring kind of helped him calm down when he needed it. 

But, contrary to Virgil’s gloomy thoughts, Roman absolutely adored the crown! He hummed happily as he placed it delicately on his head. Obviously, he was a proper prince before, but the crown was a nice reminder for everyone else. 

Patton smiled and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Oh, I can’t wait any longer! Virgil, this is for you!” He handed him his own box, smiling as he took it. 

In all honesty, Virgil nearly dropped it. He was far from weak, but the way Patton was bouncing with it, Virgil wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy. He sat down on the stairs and opened the box, letting himself show the smallest smile as he saw the weighted blanket inside. “Thanks, Patton..” 

“Of course, kiddo! But that’s not even the best part. Take it out of the box!” Patton cheered, clapping his hands as Virgil did just that, revealing a Jack Skellington design on it. 

Virgil’s smile unconsciously widened. “Patton, this is-” He heard the excitement in his own voice and cut himself off, clearing his throat to mask it. “Yeah, this is pretty cool. Thank you.” 

Patton merely hummed happily in response, sending a silent thankful glance Logan’s way. He’d known since he drew his name that he wanted to get Virgil something that would help him ground himself more easily, it was just figuring out what exactly that meant that was the problem. Logan technically suggested the blanket, but Patton did think of the design on it. 

Virgil wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, letting himself enjoy its weight as the next person took their turn. 

Deceit sighed. “Well, if we’re going in reverse order, I suppose that means I’m up. I mean, I clearly know everything about you, Patton, but that doesn’t mean I really know what to get for you, so here. I tried, or whatever.” He practically shoved his gift against Patton’s chest, quick to go back to his spot against the wall and pretend not to care. Of course, it was hard not to completely care. Everyone, even a completely evil person such as himself needed some form of human contact and, as much as he loved Remus, Remus wasn’t always the best company. And he did try his best, but it was hard to know anything about anyone when they kept such a heavy guard up the second he came around. 

Patton wasn’t really sure what to expect as he opened the box. It was cold and pretty light. Still, Deceit got that present just for him and it would be rude not to at least open it. So, he did, pulling the top off and smiling at what he saw. “Aw, Deceit, they’re lovely. I love roses, no matter what time of year it is. But why are they in a box?..”

Deceit shrugged and looked down at his gloved nails. “Try pulling one out.” 

Patton did just that and found that it definitely was not a regular flower. Was that foil wrapped around it?.. He unwrapped it and gasped, fighting every urge to run and jump into Deceit in a huge bear hug. “Chocolate! Oh my goodness, chocolate roses!” He took a huge bite out of the one in his hand and moaned in pure delight at the taste. “Thank you so much!” 

Deceit nodded. “Whatever.. They’re a variety, by the way. It’s not like I knew what you’d prefer. There’s some dark chocolate, some white chocolate, some with fruits..” Not that it’d be out of character or anything, but Deceit would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little relieved at Patton’s positive reaction. 

Logan cleared his throat. “Well, I do believe that it’s my turn. Deceit?” He handed him his gift, unwrapped to save paper. “After our last encounter, I figured that you would enjoy this show. It’s a legal drama.”

“‘How To Get Away With Murder’,” Deceit hummed. “I have heard of the show, but I always assumed it would be something more suited for Remus’s tastes.” He looked through the DVD cases, pleasantly surprised to find that Logan had gotten him each season, plus... A blank case? Deceit opened it and fought back a smile as he saw a copy of Legally Blonde staring up at him. It was always a guilty pleasure of his, seeing someone like Elle Woods beat the social standards that stood in her way, as well as the corrupt court system that almost cost her her first trial and another woman her freedom. “Thank you, Logan, I appreciate this.”

“Of course,” Logan nodded, knowing that Deceit had seen the extra gift that he’d snuck in there. Logan wasn’t sure about how strictly Deceit wanted to keep his morally grey persona, so he wasn’t sure how handing him a movie in a bright blue and pink case would go over. Especially since Logan had his own share of guilty pleasures, such as the unicorn onesie that he’d be wrapped in the second that he was allowed to go back into his room. 

Remus let out a joyous laugh as the two finished their little interaction. “Well, that was cute, but be prepared to be blown away!” He threw his box at Logan, who just barely caught it, but not without the present stumbling through his arms. 

“Remus, you should be well aware that none of us are particularly good at catching. I would appreciate it if you would refrain from doing that ag-” Logan stopped himself as he opened the box and saw what was inside. “Remus, is this-”

“You know it! What kind of nerd are you without one of these babies decorating your room?” 

“Well, you shouldn’t have thrown it at me like that if it was something this fragile,” Logan chastised as he pulled out the potted plant. Specifically, the Venus Fly Trap, complete with a bit of mistletoe tied around its stem. 

“Oop! Mistletoe! You know what that means!” 

Logan rolled his eyes. “I do not feel comfortable kissing any of the other sides. Therefore, I won’t.” 

Remus tutted. “Oh, you’re absolutely no fun.” 

“It would seem that our definitions of fun are very different, then,” Logan responded. “But I do appreciate the gift.” Of course, Logan was going to have to figure out some way to feed it, considering that there were absolutely no bugs in his spotless room, but it would still make a very nice thing to observe whenever he was stuck on a theory or whenever he simply had nothing else to do. 

It was an absolute no-brainer that it was the perfect gift for Logan, too! Remus knew that his brand of weird wasn’t for everyone, but when it was mixed with science - one of Logan’s many nerdy obsessions - there were only so many things that came to mind as a gift! But human organs seemed more like a Valentine’s day gift to give, so that chopped down the list like a pig in a slaughterhouse! 

Remus spun on his feet to face his brother, shimmying in his direction. “If my math is right, I think you owe me the final gift.” 

Roman bit the inside of his cheek. Remus was more than difficult to pick out a gift for, even as his brother - especially as his brother. But it wasn’t impossible. “Oh, alright, here.” Roman handed his gift to Remus in its thick layer of wrapping paper, just like Remus liked. 

Remus giggled and ripped through the paper like a predator through the guts of its unfortunate prey, squealing at what waited inside for him. “Aw, Ro, it’s adorable!” He held up the stuffed octo-lion - a creature that the two had made up consisting of an octopus with a mane and a tail - before hugging it tightly. “I’m going to name him Remrom, after the two of us!” Remus would be lying if he said he didn’t miss his brother, but that was Deceit’s job. Sure, the two had a tendency to butt heads, but they were brothers! What else did everyone expect? 

“Actually,” Roman began, almost sheepishly, “I thought of a name myself.. Creatnativity.”

“Aww, because we’re creativity and he’s a Christmas present, how sweet!” Remus hummed, hugging his friend once more before noticing something. “Did you put bones in him? There’s something all hard in here.” 

Roman smiled. “Actually... There’s a zipper on his back. It’s stupid, but I put a bunch of our old stories in there.. You know, from when we were.. One.” Roman was the good one, of course he was the one who was allowed to keep their works. Besides, it gave him a lot to think about on how not to become too dark. 

Remus practically exploded with joy, tackling Roman to the ground in a bone-crushing hug. “This is the best present ever! I love you, Princey!” 

Roman let out a small laugh and hugged back. “I love you too, Duke.. Merry Christmas..” 

Patton smiled and figured that it’d be best to let the brothers spend some brother time together. “Maybe we should take a break before spending some family time.” He glanced over at Virgil. “Why don’t we go watch some Nightmare Before Christmas?” 

Of course, Virgil would never turn down such an offer, but this time especially, he knew why Patton was trying to get them away. “Yeah.. Sounds good.” The two disappeared up the stairs, Virgil letting them both walked wrapped in his new blanket. 

Deceit nudged Logan and held up the blank case. “Why don’t we go watch this in my room? You can even bring that unicorn onesie you love so much and I’ll wear my own snake onesie.” 

Logan nodded. “That sounds ideal.” The pair left to do just that, leaving the creativity twins on their own. 

“We have got to hang out more, Ro..”

“I know. Let’s go watch a Disney movie.” 

“Lion King!” 

Roman chuckled and sat up, scooting out from beneath Remus. “Alright, Lion King.” 

Patton and Virgil, Logan and Deceit, Roman and Remus. Christmas was time to be spent with family and be surrounded by loved ones, sure. But sometimes, a little quiet time made everything just that much more perfect.

#drlamp #fanfic #secretsantasides #patton sanders #ts patton #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #deceit sanders #ts deceit #roman sanders #ts roman #remus sanders #ts remus #sanders sides

[meganshinsou-tm]

Crimson|Ink. (m)

↳ chapter two: bath salts

❧ genre:  tattoo-shop/hitmen au | tattoo artist/hitman kirishima

❧ fic warning: major character(s) death; happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: none

❧ chapter song: Bath Salts by Highly Suspect

♬crimson|ink playlist | ♧ character profiles | artist credit

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

"Pardon?"

The heavily tattooed red-head quirk a brow and made a face, "Look, unless you want this tattoo going somewhere else then I suggest you remove the shirt and bra so we can get this done and over with."

Kiri walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a small black hand towel and tossed it to you. He pointed to a white folding screen with black panels before sitting down on his stool and going back over all his equipment and opening the fresh packages. You gulped and trekked backwards before fully turning and going to place yourself behind it. 

There was a chair that you could sit your clothes on and you stared at it for what had to be a solid minute. Your heart was beating fucking fast and you didn't know why. You were more than confident in your body, that's why the placement and having to strip for it was of no issue. And there was no way that red-headed jackass on the other side of the screen was the reason, yeah he was attractive but his attitude so far was less than that.

"Waiting on you princess," an impatient voiced called out to you.

You glared at the barrier separating the two of you and stuck out your tongue. Taking one last deep breath you began to remove your shirt and placed it on the chair with your coat and scarf, next you removed your bra and hung it over the back. 

The whole time you were undressing, red eyes would steal glances at the silhouette behind the screen. Following the movements of the shadow cast on the screen, hands peeling off piece by piece of clothing, hair flowing and falling down. Kiri growled to himself, forcing his gaze to avert somewhere else.

Behind the screen you placed the towel around your chest, holding it close when you stepped out from behind the screen and walked towards the tattoo chair. Upon hearing your footsteps Kiri instructed you to walk around to him. He stood once you got closer, making you hold back a gasp with wide eyes. 

The man towered over you like a massive building - he was like a solid brick house!

Besides his alarming and totally not hot as fuck size, being closer to him you could make out the various tattoos that covered his tanned skin. There seemed to be an ongoing theme of traditional Japanese dragons, clouds, flowers and oni masks. The tattoos flowed from his arms and under his shirt to his pecs. You looked up to see his crimson red eyes staring at you, causing your body to stiffen as if his stare had some hold over you.

His face was really ... beautiful, his dark brows contrasted with the red hair on his scalp and you figured he dyed it. There was a small cut on his right eye, among more scars littering his inked skin. 

Kiri tilted his head and sucked on his teeth impatiently, making you look to see that the teeth were razor sharp. Your eyes squinted and without thinking you leaned forward and poked at his lips. The man didn't swat you away, in fact he seemed just as taken back with you. It's like you were a child, examining something new with wondrous eyes. You were so caught up in his teeth that you didn't notice his own eyes scanning your body. 

You had these marks across your face that most people would call moles but they weren't raised, almost like freckles. There was another random one on your collarbone, one right where your cleavage started. Quickly averting his eyes from your breasts he noticed an extremely faint but legit scar on your right hip. He looked back to your face, having to admit you were attractive, actually incredibly beautiful - and so fucking small. 

If love at first sight was even a real thing, he was sure that you'd be the one he'd fall for.

There was something about your skin being perfectly devoid of any ink unlike his. It was a clean canvas and he was about to make his mark on it and it would be with you forever. Something inside of Kiri was prideful about this for some reason, but he quickly shoved that pride away. He didn't have time to be drooling over some random girl that happened to walk in. Maybe if he lived a different life he'd change his attitude drastically within the next hour but that wasn't his case. The more you disliked him, the better.

"Which side," he finally spoke, muffled around your fingers still prodding at his teeth.

You blinked as his nonchalant voice questioned you and quickly pulled your fingers from his mouth. 

"Oh I'm sorry, I kind of don't have a sense of personal space." 

Kiri only shrugged and re-wet his teeth.

You didn't actually put any thought into which side you wanted the piece on, so you just chose at random. "My right I guess."

Kiri nodded and instructed you lift your arm up, "I'm going to roll this enough to where I can place the stencil and tape it down so it doesn't slip. You okay with me touching you?"

You nodded and bit down on your lip, doing as the red-head instructed. Before doing anything he put on some black latex gloves and hunched over to roll and fold the edge of the towel that covered your rib cage. Even if his skin wasn't coming into contact with yours, his feather-like touches still managed to send surges of something old and forgotten through your body. 

You decided to look away and focus more on the music that was quietly playing as Kiri grabbed some tape and finished with your towel. He sat down on his stool and grabbed the stencil, moving it around on your skin until he found the perfect spot for it. He leaned over and grabbed a container from his tray and a paper towel. You flinched and gasped when you felt something cold being brushed onto you skin.

"Shit," you breathed out while shivering.

"Sorry, guess I could've warned ya," Kiri replied with a smirk and quiet chuckle.

You rolled your eyes and he placed the stencil on your skin. It felt cool until his warm hand rubbed over it, flattening out any ripples and edges. Kiri slowly pulled off the stencil and rolled back on his stool to take a look, he told you to go look for yourself to make sure the placement was fine. Doing so you turned in the mirror and examined the small piece. 

"I want to be stronger than oceans," curved around the small wave and you smiled. It looked good enough to you, he was the artist after all so you trusted him, at least when it came to tattooing. Nodding, you walked back over and Kiri motioned for you to lay out on the chair before him.

"Should I face you or no?"

"No, turn your back to me so I'm not all up on your tits."

You huffed out a laugh with a shrug and turned to sit on the chair. Holding the un-taped side of the towel close you gathered all your hair and pulled it over to the left side of your neck, fully giving Kiri your bare back. Not being able to help himself from looking, his eyes wondered up and down your spine and curves, until he scanned the blades of your shoulders and squinted when he saw a medium sized scar running across the back of your left one.

"I thought you didn't have any scars?" He asked as you laid down on your side.

"I never said I didn't have any, just that I could heal the majority of them. If they're minor ones, it's nothing."

Kiri grunted in response and dipped his fingertip in a lump of petroleum jelly that was on a napkin, smearing a thin amount of it onto your stencil as he made the tattoo machine come to life.

"What happened," he and put the needle to your skin.

Your body slightly flinched from the new sensation, immediately you felt the needle hitting a bone and clutched the head of the chair that your arm hung over.

"Uh – you tell me and I'll tell you. What happened to your eye?"

Kiri chuckled and wiped off some excess ink and went back to tattooing. 

"When I was a child and my quirk activated for the first time, I was rubbing my eye and cut myself."

You couldn't help but quietly chuckle, you were expecting something more like a bar fight. 

"What's your quirk?"

"It's 'hardening'. I can basically make my skin like a rock and become indestructible to a point."

You hummed and thought about it more, imagining a human shield pretty much. With a quirk like that he would've been a great hero, so why was he just a tattoo artist?

Another thought immediately popped into your mind and you asked a question without thinking. "So you can harden your entire body, like ... everything?"

"If you're asking if it applies to my dick as well, then yes."

"Gotcha!"

Shaking his head Kiri asked you to explain the scar on your back. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking of a way to somewhat explain what happened to you without giving too much away or leading him to ask any further questions. Either way though you couldn't find a possible way around it other than to cut him off if he delved too deep.

"I was stabbed," you replied nonchalantly.

The buzzing of the gun stopped momentarily before sounding back off again. Kiri swallowed thickly and thought hard about whether he should ask anything further. Not in a million years would he picture someone like you being stabbed and for what?

"Was it random or –"

"I honestly don't remember, I don't remember why it happened in the first place. I just woke up and had a knife in my back."

Kiri nodded and cleared his throat, "Did they give you the one on your hip too?

"Yeah, that was my warning."

Kiri willed away a shudder as your conversation seemed to be taking a turn for the darker. Before he could think of anything else to ask, the door to his room slammed open, causing you to flinch and the red-head to harden his hand. On accident he used a little too much force and ended up cutting your skin, the sound that followed and fell from your lips had Kiri's head spinning. It sounded like a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"Oh shit, was I interrupting something?" 

A brash and teasing voice questioned when you sat up and turned to look at your new wound bleeding down your skin.

"Goddammit Bakugou, don't you know how to fucking knock?"

Immediately Kiri had a napkin pressed to your skin as he tried to help the bleeding. Your hand grabbed his wrist, making his red eyes look up to see you smiling. 

"It's alright Kiri, I've got this."

You removed his hand from your skin, the entire time he was reeling from the way his name sounded falling from your lips, so soft and delicate. And the look you gave him, he couldn’t explain it but it was something he had never expected.

"Nice job shitty hair, now she gets it for free!"

You turned back around to look at the face this obnoxious voice was coming from. A set of ruby red eyes looked back at you along with gleaming white teeth that were set in a wicked smile. The male had spiky ash blond hair with a grown out undercut. His jacket hung from his finger over his shoulder and his v-neck plunged showing a cluster of roses and grenades. Both of his arms were bare except for two thick black bands around his forearm. A hint of metal shimmered from between his teeth and you figured it was a tongue piercing. His facial features were sharp and strong and he was extremely attractive. 

Hell almost every man in this shop was a panty dropper.

"It's fine really, just give me a second," you spoke finally.

Your hand kept the left side of your towel close while the other flattened against the cut on your skin. Light flashed beneath your palm and once you pulled it away it was if nothing happened. 

The blonde male whistled and you gave Kiri a smile. He didn't smile back however, just instructed you lay back down so he could finish. Your smile turned flat as you did so, facing forward to the other male who was dragging a chair forward before you, turning it backward and planting himself in it. His strong and lean looking legs straddled the chair and his arms crossed and rested on the back of it.

"So you're a healer huh? You know you'd come in handy around here, for more reasons than one, am I right Red?"

"Dude shut up. What are you even doing here, it's your off day."

"And? Do any of us fuckers ever truly leave this place? Plus, I was hungry and came into town for food. Anything else you need to know honey?"

A quick smile crossed you face, the blonde noticed and chuckled. 

"So, what's your name princess?"

"(Y/N)."

"That's cute. I'm Bakugou, one of the other artists. So, when you gonna come back and let me stick you?"

"Wow, you guys really have no filter around here huh?" You replied, cheeks blushing.

Shrugging, Bakugou rubbed the side of his neck, "I was talking about piercing you, but if you're down for something else then I'm your man! I haven't seen you around here before so you must be new, especially with that pretty skin."

Quirking a brow you didn't know whether to feel flattered or creeped out. These guys kept talking about your 'pretty skin' like it was a rare treasure that they wanted to have. They probably wouldn't think such things if they saw further down to your other un-healable scars that were hidden from the world.

"You got a job princess?"

Kiri stopped tattooing and gave Bakugou a questionable look that matched your own. It was odd how quick the topic changed with this guy.

"You are new here right? So you must not have a job yet," Bakugou explained himself more.

"You're not wrong, but why do you want to know?"

"Come work for us. We could use a cute girl around the shop, plus with your quirk, you can make things easier for us when the real pussies come in and think they can handle anything."

Before you could even answer Kiri was answering for you with a stern objection.

"You can't just go handing out jobs that don't exist because you think someone is hot Bakugou."

"Of course I can, because one, the job does exist, and two, she'd be perfect for it. What's your problem, you're the one who even brought up the idea to Sero and Shouto. We have a grade A candidate right here! She's stunning, friendly, and her quirk is a fucking godsend! Plus, she's probably looking for a job, right princess?"

Shyly you nodded but other than that you showed no interest. Clearly, Kiri didn't want you working there so why would you even want to. Before Bakugou could press the issue any further his phone went off and he groaned. Looking at it he rose from his seat and flashed you a wicked smile.

"Think about it," he suggested before walking out the room.

Once he left a thick tension filled the silent room. Thankfully you were facing away from Kiri and didn't have to worry about looking at whatever agitated expression he was probably making. For ten more minutes the room was silent except for the sound of the tattoo machine. When the needle brushed over one particular spot that was close to the inside of your ribs you hissed and flinched slightly. An amused snort came from behind you and had your blood temperature slowly rising.

"Did I do something to you?"

Kiri continued his work as he replied, "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you've haven't exactly been as friendly as everyone else I've met and just now with that whole job thing."

"Look there is no job, he's fucking pulling your leg. Even if there was one he doesn't have the final say so in it. We don't need you around here, sorry but that's just it."

You frowned at the harshness from his words and in his tone, unsure of why they hurt so much. It felt like someone was slapping you in the face. You couldn't quite understand what it was that this man had against you. It didn't matter though; his sour attitude just solidified your choice in never coming back here again.

"I only have a few more strokes to go over then we'll be done. So let's just get through the rest of this and we can go our separate ways, okay?"

"Whatever."

A few minutes later Kiri sighed and the buzzing noise you had grown so used to suddenly went dead. After cleaning and drying your tattoo you immediately sat up and removed yourself from the chair to stand up.

"Go ahead and take a look in the mirror and make – hey!"

Before Kiri could finish his sentence you had tore the towel from your chest and tossed it over your shoulder onto the chair and walked behind the folding screen not even caring to cover your chest anymore. Once behind the screen you healed your tattoo quickly so you wouldn't have to go through a lecture about caring for and cleaning it. You couldn’t wait to get dressed immediately and 'go your separate ways'.

"Don't you want to make sure it looks okay?" Kiri called out from behind the screen.

Grabbing your coat, scarf and bag you walked back out from behind the screen and to the door of the room before stopping. 

"I'm sure it's fine, do I pay up front?"

The red-head knitted his brows and gave you a chuckle, "Are you serious? I just branded your fucking skin and you're not even going to look at it?"

"Do I fucking pay up front or not Kiri," you finally yelled back, your voice cracking as you called out his name and your eyes pleading him to answer you.

It took Kiri off-guard and all he could do was nod. You thanked him and walked out the door, firmly closing it behind you. A knot formed in the pit of Kiri's stomach and he stared at the door. He felt like shit and that look you gave him it was already burned into his brain. 

Gritting his teeth and clinching his fists Kiri kicked at the tray next to him, making the tattoo machine, ink and needles fly everywhere.

Back up-front Denki had made his way through the door as you were paying for your tattoo. He smiled and jogged over to you, his smile instantly disappearing when he saw the sad look on your face. 

"Hey shorty, what's wrong?"

"Oh - uh it's nothing. I'm just tired and I need to get home," you brushed off his concern and signed the receipt Sero handed you.

Bakugou walked behind the counter from the hallway and you froze. He must've been in one of the other rooms the whole time and probably heard you yelling at his friend. Quickly he walked to the counter and before you with brows furrowed.

"The fuck did he do to you?"

"Nothing, really. Look guys I gotta get out of here, thank you for everything though, I really appreciate it, maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah when you come to work for us right," Bakugou questioned and you frowned. 

Your hand wrapped your scarf around your neck and you shook your head.

"I appreciate the offer Bakugou, really, but I'm not going to willingly work somewhere that I'm clearly not wanted. I wish you the best of luck in finding someone though."

Before Denki, Bakugou or Sero could even stop you, your body was jogging out of the door and into the flurry of snow. The three men watched as you entered your vehicle and wiped your eyes before starting it and driving off. They were all furious, even if they just met you they were really hoping you'd take their job offer because they felt some sort of connection with you. 

But no one was as pissed off as Denki. Electricity was starting to surge around his body and he hopped over the counter and took off down the hall.

"Fuck," Sero breathed out as he quickly closed the cash register.

Bakugou grabbed him by the collar before he could take off after his friend, making him question what he was holding him back for.

"I just want to hear what stupid shit he's gonna yell out first," Bakugou replied.

The two waited patiently, hearing Denki's footsteps speeding down the hallway. A blast rang out signaling that he had kicked down the door. Kiri could be heard yelling a 'what the fuck Kaminari'. Bakugou held up three fingers and slowly counted down until he got to one and pointed down the hall.

"What the fuck did you do to lil’mama!"

#crimson ink #kirishima eijirou x reader #tattoo shop au #hitmen au #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakusquad #reader x everyone #slow burn #enemies to lovers #kiri is a dick in this fic

[cagestark]

Can i request something i dont see enough of, which is AlphaPeter/OmegaTony ? :D Lots of fluffy happy stuff, i love angst too a slong as theres a happy ending - { holographic-starker }

this was a tough one to write, but I enjoyed myself and feel like I learned a lot about myself as a writer, even. Thanks for the request, let me know if you’re displeased

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: ABO, consent issues because Tony is in heat. Alpha!Peter, Omega!Tony. Peter is 18+ though. Explicit. 

-

The thing is, the kid is too polite.

Peter is freshly eighteen when he moves into the tower and begins interning for Tony, spending every last moment Avenging and patrolling and attending online classes. Being thirty years older than the kid, a part of him assumes that he should take on the role of a cantankerous old man complaining about the boorish youth. His knees have certainly taken it upon themselves to method act, protesting hours spent cross-legged on the floor. His hair has obviously been visiting wardrobe and makeup without his notice, because there are more gray hairs there than he remembers there being last year, last season, last month.

All this to say that Tony is getting older, and it is no secret that the younger generations are fucking irritating. Disrespectful, he’d say, channeling Howard or Jarvis through that internal Ouija board that keeps coming back no matter how many times he throws it out. And alright, it’s part of their rite of passage. Find him a generation who doesn’t annoy their elders and he’d eat Cap’s shield.

The one exception: Peter.

The kid has sweetness in his DNA. Authenticity clings to his red blood cells which explains why every bone in his body is genuine and kind. The respect he shows the Avengers is nearly comical—would be, if it didn’t drive Tony up the walls for other reasons. He is firm and gentle, thoughtful and conscientious. There are no valid complaints to be had about him.

The kid, if anything, is too polite.

Which means that he can’t possibly be doing this on purpose.

Peter presenting as an alpha shocked Tony to the core, and he wasn’t alone. “I’ve had him pegged as an omega since he was in diapers, Tony,” May had whispered to him while they watched Peter having his blood drawn by Bruce inside the Hulk-proof enclosure beneath the ground at Stark Tower. Judging by how Peter’s face flushes red, he can hear through the glass.

“A lot people had me pegged as an alpha,” Tony responds, maybe a little too coldly. But maybe it hits a little too close to home—children having their designations determined for them at such a young age. How much of Peter’s upbringing had influenced his disposition? Had he been groomed to be an omega even despite his biology? The thought makes Tony sick. He knows how that feels. He knows. “This doesn’t change anything about him. He’s still Peter.”

But it did change things.

Because now they are playing this game together, and either Peter is a better bluffer than Tony ever anticipated, or the kid genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing to the older man.

It starts the first day Peter returns to his work in the lab after his rut. They have been putting in hours together working on a new AI, one Peter has affectionately dubbed Saturday, no matter how many times Tony tells him that the key to a good name is all in the acronym). Since it is Peter’s first effort to make an artificial intelligence, Tony is letting him lead. He is bent over the lab table examining a microchip the size of his thumbnail, miniature soldering iron clutched between in his fingers when the door to the lab opens.

He whirls around on the stool, beaming. Peter is dressed in his old Midtown High sweatshirt, the collar of his dress shirt blooming around his neck. His hair is dark from a shower, wet curls clinging to his forehead. He looks—good. Healthy. Strong. Fertile.

They smell each other for the first time.

It’s not Tony’s right to tell anyone to wear scent blockers, though he ingests his own via pill form twice a day, showers with them, has them mixed into the sterilization stations at lab’s exits so he can clean his hands and neutralize any happy-angsty scents that were brought about during the day’s tinkering. Because it’s a polite thing to do. Alphas and omegas are very sensitive to smells. Polite alphas will wear blockers to avoid overwhelming omegas or antagonizing other alphas in public—and when it comes to omegas, scent blockers are like protection, like the nano-tech suit he goes nowhere without. If no one can smell Tony, they can’t look at him like a piece of meat, lust over him, come on to him when all he’s trying to do is walk down the fucking street.

The kid is not wearing blockers. Before he presented, Peter had the blandly neutral scent of a beta, and he would have been incapable of scenting Tony. Peter smells of something fond. It takes Tony only a moment to place it: the mahogany of the bookshelves in his childhood home, the lemon-basil scent that would cling to Jarvis after days spent in the kitchen.

He sees Peter’s nostrils flair, surely trying to take in a scent that for all intents and purposes, he shouldn’t be able to smell. But by the way his eyes go hooded, throat bobbing, he can. The boy’s mouth opens, literally mouths the word wow. Tony feels remarkably like a rabbit caught in a dog’s gaze.

Tony burns himself. “Fucking—fuck!” He drops the soldering iron and it barely misses the microchip.

“Mr. Stark, are you okay?”

Peter comes over to examine the burn, a dark, flushed pink, the skin already raw and shiny. The smell comes with him, each of the boy’s emotions playing out like a symphony for his nose: concern, comfort, anxiety. And yeah, arousal.

Tony pulls away before their skin can touch, jamming his hands into the gloves that he should have been wearing from the start. “Fine,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.”  

Peter becomes—distracting. At best. Arousing at worst. Days spent in the lab under Tony’s tutelage are filled with emotions for the young, enthusiastic boy: joy when he solves a problem, frustration when he can’t, the soft melancholic scent of rotting wood on days when his smile is muted and his eyes seem far away. Tony is too receptive to him. More than once, he’s found himself opening his mouth, desperate to ask for the love of God, Pete, will you take a shower? Will you wear something, anything, to come between your scent and my nose? But the kid doesn’t deserve that, and Tony isn’t sure he could stand the embarrassed, insecure scent he’d give off after being confronted. The need to comfort might be too strong to overpower.

Tony does his very best to maintain a professional relationship, but Peter seems determined to cross every boundary.

Next comes the scenting. To be fair: maybe he doesn’t know how incredibly personal it is. Tony knows that it’s common in schools to separate kids by designation and teach them only the information absolutely pertinent to them. Maybe growing up small and thin and soft hearted, pegged O’ from birth, they didn’t teach him what it means when an alpha scents someone who they aren’t related to.

Tony himself doesn’t know what it means when Peter does it. Maybe Peter doesn’t even know, maybe it’s just an itch that needs scratched, and he knows that scenting Tony can scratch it. Some things are just that innocent. But on his dark days when Tony is hunched over at the lab table, back and eyes aching from working through the night, all it takes is Peter brushing by. His steps will stutter just beyond Tony’s shoulders. He inhales—now Tony is trained like one of Pavlov’s dogs, and the relief, the arousal, it often comes right then, even on just the inhale—and then Peter’s forehead will loll forward, soft hair and skin nuzzling at the scent gland on Tony’s neck until their scents are mixed. Until Tony’s body is soft and pliant (except for his cock, which is hard and throbbing).

Then Peter moves on like nothing happened.

What the fuck, Tony sometimes mouths, keeping his eyes on the tablet in front of him, terrified to turn and acknowledge what the boy just did.

It might not be so bad if they weren’t so fucking compatible. Yeah, he can admit it. Tony had spent weeks agonizing about that after the kid first brought his scent down into the lab, he’s come to terms, thanks. It’s a biological fact, one he remembers any time he takes in a whiff of mahogany and lemon-basil. God, he didn’t think a smell could be so comforting and arousing all at once. It makes him ache, someplace in his chest where the arc reactor used to sit, and somewhere lower, deep in his pelvis where he should have grown children, if he’d been a decent omega. If he hadn’t spent so long trying to pretend to be an alpha, frying his biology, cooking his ovaries right to medium-well-done, AKA infertility.

What use would Peter have for him? Tony is old, past safe childbearing years even if he wasn’t barren. Alphas want legacies, they want homemakers, they want everything Howard worked so hard to empty Tony of. Far too often he finds himself maudlin and thinking such thoughts before the futility of them strikes him. His attractiveness is a non-issue; he is determined that he and Peter will never come together that way.

As it is, the scent blockers Tony takes, while being ultra-effective, aren’t as effective for a pair—not a pair. No, they’re not a pair. Just two friendly friends, mentor and mentee, platonic hi there Mr. Stark how are you doing goodness, no knots involved. God. He should not be thinking about the kid’s knot—anyway, the blockers aren’t as effective for people who are as compatible as Peter and Tony are. They are his last defense, and he often burns through them before the afternoon hits, body working overtime to make his scent potent again so that he might have a chance to attract the virile alpha across the room. It’s embarrassing, smelling so badly of pining omega that he can smell himself in the enclosed space of the elevator.

Like he is right now.

Although, it isn’t the elevator. It’s the bathroom.

Tony grabs the hand towels off of the rack and stuffs them at the bottom of the door where the crack is, desperate to keep his own smell in and Peter’s smell out. Then he crawls into the bathtub there and draws the curtain shut. As if that’s going to help.

He looks to the ceiling, wondering why a deity he doesn’t even believe in seems to be punishing him like this. Inside his pants, his cock is aching, and he can’t help but to press the heel of his hand against it, exhaling in the brief relief it gives. Lifting his wrist to his nose he breaths deep and can’t stop the groan that passes his lips. He smells like Peter, their scents combining, lemon and sugar to make lemonade, so sweet his mouth waters and his teeth ache.

When Peter arrived in the lab just moments before, he’d brought with him the scent of fury: scorched earth, and something sadder. His eyes were red from tears, lips pressed thin together. Tony watched him, paralyzed, as he tried three different times to enter his access code to the lab before FRIDAY showed mercy and let him in. Then as soon as there was nothing between them, it was like two oppositely charged magnets coming together.

They collided. Tony’s arms wrapped around him and Peter’s nose buried in that spot between his neck and shoulder, inhaling and exhaling fire on Tony’s exposed skin. Peter babbles away, lips brushing his skin, something about an argument with Ned and MJ, both sides feeling neglected and wronged, long overdue issues just now bubbling to the surface, he’d imagine. He can barely focus on what the boy is saying. It feels like there’s an invisible hand on the back of his neck, tilting him into the perfect position for his alpha to scent and find comfort in him. Tony holds him until all the anger and hurt and helplessness have seeped out of him.

What the fuck, Tony mouths to the ceiling. One of these days, he’s going to ask FRIDAY to create a montage of his WTF moments so that he might literally have concrete footage of how weird his life is.

Then one of Peter’s hands drifts up like he is going to cup Tony’s shoulder, but instead he firmly presses his thumb into the gland there and it’s like Thor has sent a bolt of lightning down. Tony’s entire body jerks and melts, every bone in his body relaxing for his alpha except for the one in his pants, and speaking of, Peter whimpers and shifts and there is no mistaking an alpha’s cock. There just isn’t. It’s veritably huge and hard and how many years has it been since he’s had an alpha inside him, since he’s been knotted—

The scents around them change, thick with arousal. It takes him that long to realize that Peter’s heightened emotional sensitivity might have a biological cause.

He is going into a rut.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter slurs, hips shifting. “You smell sooo good.”

It takes herculean effort to separate their bodies. The sheer heat and pheromones that Peter is throwing off are tangible even when he’s resolutely breathing through his mouth. He must be a sight: eyes wild and terrified, cock stiff, sprinting bow-legged to the bathroom so that he could get just a moment—just a moment to calm himself down and use his brain.

It’s going…about as well as can be expected, Tony thinks, desperately fisting his cock in the bathtub. If he could just rub one out, maybe it will bleed some of the fire from his veins. There is a gentle knocking at the door and Peter’s muffled voice, but Tony can barely hear it. He’s so close, building up to an orgasm so quickly that it should be shameful, but at least there is no one here to see. Wrist pressed to his nose, he inhales Peter’s scent like a man coming up from water, desperate for air. His balls are drawn up tight, stomach twisted into knots—and still he doesn’t cum.

“Mr. Stark, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Peter’s voice is raised, worried. Tony realizes that he has been whimpering, surely loud enough for the genetically enhanced boy to hear.

The pain inside him rises up but never crests, just rests there, aching in his gut. Cramping. Curiously, he reaches down past the petite testicles, down—

He’s wet. Soaked. The touch of his finger nearly brings him to ecstasy. This is what he needs, something inside of him, filling that emptiness that is so acute it aches. One finger isn’t enough. His hole is already loose, taking two easily.

The door breaks down. I’m in heat, Tony thinks numbly listening to wood splinter and hinges break. Maybe there was a slow build up that he missed, but it burned away in an instant in the face of this alpha. That is why Peter went into rut. Because of me. He barely has time to shove his cock back into his pants. For a moment, after Peter wrenches back the shower curtain Tony feels like a woman out of the old bodice rippers his mother used to keep in her bedside drawer. The ones with helpless omegas ravished by alphas who were driven mad by their scents, alphas who couldn’t have stopped their urges even if they wanted to.

The look Peter gives him is certainly aroused enough. He is hard in his jeans, a bulge that looks impossibly huge compared to Tony’s own. Peter’s chest rises and falls so rapidly that the older man is worried for his health. Those dark eyes scan Tony from head to toe and then the boy collapses, knees striking the tiled floor, groaning. He crawls to the bathtub and rests his feverish cheeks against the lip of the tub, mouth open and panting.

“Mr. Stark.” The voice is absolutely wrecked.

It is pure restraint as a result of his years of experience that keeps him from rolling onto his hands and knees to present for this boy, this wet-behind-the-ears alpha who has barely started his second rut and probably never popped a knot in his life.

“Mr. Stark I don’t feel so good,” groans Peter.

Even burning up, cramping, shaking, Tony reaches out to pet at Peter’s head. He hopes to offer comfort, but the boy snatches his hand out of the air in a bruising grip. Then he draws it to his mouth and presses in the fingers that were just inside Tony’s sopping hole. The boy’s tongue slips between the fingers, searching every crevice for more slick, groaning even as he licks the palm tasting only heart-love-life lines. “Mr. Stark,” Peter pants, trying again for words. “Can I have you? Please. Let me have you.”

“Yes,” Tony gasps.

They come together clumsily. It takes a moment for them to realize that Tony is trying to crawl out of the tub while Peter is trying to crawl in. They end up outside of it on the tiled floor, Tony spread out underneath the young alpha. Peter sheds his shirt and there should be violins, there should be mood lighting and a spotlight because the kid is fucking built. He almost has as many abs as fingers, so lithe and strong. He reminds Tony of spider silk, thin and so strong.

“Undress,” Peter says lowly, helping Tony to sit up so that he might pull off his shirt. Yeah, Tony isn’t 18 years old with genetically enhanced muscles but he likes to think he does okay. Peter’s eyes roll, palms flat on Tony’s pecs to drag down and down, over the scarring where the arc reactor used to be, scraping at the chest hairs. It melts the omega’s brain, primal parts of him purring. His body is satisfying to his mate, even if he is older and grayer and harder than any omega has a right to be. “God, you’re so—Jesus you’re hot Mr. Stark.”

“Knot me,” Tony groans. His hips are thrusting up into the hard cradle of Peter’s pelvis. His cock is throbbing, leaking, but it is nothing compared to the emptiness inside of him. The room is small and filled with so many potent scents that he can barely keep his eyes open. All of his senses are consumed by Peter, by what he’s doing with Peter. “Come on, kid. It hurts.”

Peter goes feral at the thought. He tears at their clothes, ribbons of jean and cotton, tennis shoes nudged off of feet. When he is naked as the day he was born, the fever in Tony seems to reach its boiling point. The kid is sculpted; it’s indecent. If there was any doubt he was meant to be an alpha, his cock disputes it. Tony, who has had plenty of fulfilling sexual experiences with people of all genders and designations, is still intimidated. Aroused. Anxious. He knows that his biology has prepared him for this. His body is made to take cocks of that size, but what if it doesn’t? What if he displeases this alpha, displeases Peter?

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, thumb pressing into that tender part of his neck that has his legs jolting. “Easy,” Peter says, and Tony’s entire body relaxes. That voice drains all the fear and anxiety out of him, Novocain for the soul. Why was he worrying? His head is pleasantly fuzzy like with the buzz of a few strong drinks. Underneath it all is the ache in his cock, the emptiness inside him, but he does not beg. Does not squirm. Because unbearably tender, Peter assures: “I’ll take care of you.”

The tiles under his palms and knees are cold on his feverish skin when he turns over. He lets his back bow to appease the ache inside him until he is presenting fully, cheek pressed against the floor. The sounds Peter makes behind him are wrecked as he folds himself over the omega beneath him, mouth hotly over the skin at the nape of his neck. It makes all the hairs on his body stand on edge—god the only thing better than mating with alpha is bonding with this alpha, bite, bite, please—

“Can’t,” Peter groans. “Can’t bite you. You don’t mean that.”

Tony bucks the boy off until Peter is sitting back on his haunches, cock obscene between his legs, looking more like a confused pup than an assertive alpha. Tony bares his teeth even in the face of his instincts which recoil just at the idea. “I thought you knew what I needed,” he goads.

Peter’s eyes harden. Maybe this polite young man defers to him on most things, but not this thing. He fists a hand in Tony’s hair and wrenches him up until their naked bodies are plastered together from knee to neck. Teeth brush his neck again and it’s like touching a live wire. If he’d jerked any harder, he might have broken skin. As it is, Peter just holds him there, bite firm and bordering on painful until all the fight goes out of him. The boy guides him back down, body lax like all the bones are gone. One hand drifts up and back to run over where the alpha’s teeth were, desperate to feel the indentations.

“Didn’t break skin,” Peter promises, like Tony doesn’t already know. No broken skin, but close. Close enough to have him pliant and purring, the fever in his skin giving him the briefest respite. Then Peter’s fingers dance downward to where the omega is wet and hot and so empty it hurts. Just the brush of fingertips, the promise of pleasure, has Tony groaning into the tiled floor.

Gently, Peter presses in. Attuned to the alpha’s senses, he hears the younger man’s breath catch, turn high and breathy. A second finger joins the first and yes, that’s better, so much better than the gaping emptiness. By the third finger, Tony feels like he could cum from this alone, even if Peter has done nothing but skim his fingers over that spot inside him that’s so good it aches.

Peter hushes him, a hand planted over that fading mark on the back of Tony’s neck. His other hand grips his cock, notching the head where Tony needs it most. The omega takes the first half before he feels full, sated even, but then there is more. Peter makes the rawest noises, and Tony laments not facing him, not being able to see his expression. He can imagine it: the eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, head back. But then there is more cock inside him than he thought was possible, and it burns everything else from his mind. The only thing that exists is that cock, anchoring him to this reality. He can feel the flared base of the alpha’s cock already puffing, desperate to knot.

Content that his cock isn’t going to split Tony in half—though it certainly feels like it from the other side of things—Peter sets a brutal pace. The finesse his fingers might have lacked is overshadowed by his cock which probably couldn’t miss Tony’s prostate if it tried. All he can do is take it, fingers scrabbling to find purchase on the slick floor, body singing, prepared to burn out at any moment.

“To-ny,” whines Peter, drawing the word out obscenely. The next word is softer, said through teeth: “Omega.”

“Alpha,” Tony gasps. “Harder—more. Come on. Need it, need your knot—”

“Then take it,” Peter cries. “Take it! God, you feel so good, you’re perfect, perfect—”

Tony cums, cock spurting onto the tiled floor. Every muscles clenches, cramping, spasming as his orgasm goes on and on, spurred on by Peter’s cock. Tony can’t even take it enough breath to scream, just gapes, cheek pressed to the cool floor. He can feel Peter’s own end coming, the knot growing, the sounds he makes becoming louder and less inhibited.

When Peter finally cums, he howls, crying out the way a man might if he’d just been stabbed only he’s the one stabbing Tony, stabbing him with his cock, forcing the knot past the rim and Tony doesn’t know if he can take it, there is brief pain cresting and then—it’s like it all goes white. His first orgasm was nothing compared to this. This would be painful, if it weren’t so good, if it weren’t exactly what he needed. It’s so much deeper than when he cums from his cock; in a way that feels so external. But this is inside him, deep in his womb, his entire body and being rejoicing at the alpha inside him loading him with sperm. Every spasm of his body is matched a heartbeat later by the cock inside him.

The come-down is slow. Having lost his strength ages ago, Tony is prostrate on the floor, knees and back aching. Above him is a firm, warm weight. The breaths are too ragged for Peter to be sleeping. Still, there is no speaking. Not until the knot inside him deflates and Peter draws back, cum and slick slipping out from inside of Tony.

When he manages to get up on his hands an knees, reaching out to use the sink to brace himself to stand (trying hard not to slip in all the bodily fluids), he sees that Peter is sitting back on his haunches, face buried in his hands, shaking with tears.

Tony nearly flinches at the sight. His heart pounds—alpha, hurting.

“Peter? Pete? God, what is it? Are you—”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter wails.

“Wh—what the hell are you sorry for?”

Peter can’t even answer, he’s so distraught. Tony isn’t good at this. It’s safe to say that most emotional situations have him withdrawing, and hastily. But this is Peter: the young man he’s had a soft spot for even years before the attraction arrived. So instead he lowers himself back down and sits next to the boy, drawing him in. Peter buries his face in Tony’s neck, scenting and scenting. It isn’t hard to exude comfort and warmth, not when he has the young alpha in his arms. Peter’s tears slow and then stop.

Heart in his throat, Tony asks: “What that—not good for you, kid?”

When Peter pulls away, his face is twisted with confusion. “What are you talking about? That—it was—God, Mr. Stark. I’m going to be thinking about that for the rest of my life, probably.”

The omega inside him purrs. “Thanks for the ego boost.”

Peter sighs, wiping at his face. “That’s just so not how I wanted it to happen. When you’re, when you’re in heat you can’t technically consent. You ran from me and I literally—oh shoot, Mr. Stark, I broke down your door.”

“About that—it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

“I’m not being paid, I’m an intern—"

“You—what? You’re not being paid? That doesn’t sound—”

“Can we, like, talk about my pay later?”

Tony’s mouth clicks shut. He nods.

“I just,” Peter sighs, relaxed with his head in the crook of Tony’s neck. They’re both naked, sweat cooling rapidly, but their bodies pressed together are more than enough to keep them warm. “All that effort I put in trying to attract you, trying to treat you right, like an alpha is supposed to treat an omega—then I went and broke your door.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. “I should have known you’re too smart not to know what you’ve been doing. Scenting me like I’m going out of style.”

“You’ll never go out of style Mr. Stark,” Peter assures. “I thought I was being subtle. It never seemed to work. Then I got worried that maybe you just weren’t interested. But I can smell you.”

“I’m interested,” Tony says into the younger man’s hair. “Trust me. Interested is putting it lightly. Not to mention, I’m a pretty creative guy. I could have probably stopped you if I wasn’t interested.”

“Even if you could, it’s not right for me to, to just—consent is important!”

“You’re goddamn right it is,” Tony says. He draws Peter’s chin up so they can meet eyes, and even bloodshot and wet, Peter’s are still warm and sincere and painfully adorable. “So, while I’m of sane mind and in between waves, let’s just go ahead and say I’m giving you consent. Enthusiastically. Deal?”

It’s Peter’s turn to melt and then purr, a low growling in his chest, looking like the spider who caught the fly, only more charming and with far less legs thank god. He mouths at Tony’s neck, kissing the gland there to make him shiver, and when he speaks Tony can feel the brush of his lips moving against his skin: “Deal.”

#starker #abo #Omega!Tony #Alpha!Peter