#and even though you never meet them again it's still a fond memory and you wonder where they are now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

liveontelevision · 2 months

Text

Who Wants Pancakes?

@alcoris-shiz requested some Radioapple stuff and i hope this is okay 😬 I haven't written for any ships yet, so this is my first shot at that 🎉

18+ Smut-ish, Mentions of Blood

♡♡♡

Lucifer didn't think the proximity would become a problem, I mean, he purposely made his office as far from that damned radio demon as possible and it still wasn't enough of a buffer to keep him off his ass. Still, other than having an occasional argument or just hearing some insulting mutters in passing, it wasn't all bad. The hotel was finally picking up and getting some residents, and he did make a promise to lend a hand where possible.

Something Charlie suggested early on was weekly hotel staff breakfasts. It was a fond memory, though a distant one, to have a hot plate of pancakes with her parents, so she was quick to suggest Lucifer start making them one day of the week for everyone to enjoy. Unfortunately, that does include Alastor. He agreed with delight, willing to do anything for his dearest daughter even with the slightest hesitance.

After a few weeks, it actually became something Lucifer looked forward to. Sure, he had to deal with the more extreme personalities of some of the staff, but it's been quite a while since he cooked and he was glad to get the chance to enjoy it with Charlie, again. Alastor had actually never joined this routine, which he had to admit, sent a stir of emotions to Lucifer's head.

Was he too pompous to even accept pancakes? What could that damned fool be doing that was so important, he couldn't sit down for a mere hour? Should he consider trying different recipes? He knows Alastor is a cannibal, but there had to be some exceptions.. But why should he care?

He often embarrassed himself by entertaining the idea of trying to satisfy him in any way.

"Who's ready for pancakes?" Lucifer pushes the kitchen door open with his back, his arms stacked with plates upon plates of freshly made pancakes as he sang out the phrase with a smile. An audible hum emerged from each of the staff members seated at the table, the scent filling the room. He skillfully slid the plates free of his arms and lined them up on the table before snapping his fingers and allowing each plate to portal in front of the hungry demons. He actually spent these past few weeks learning about who likes what; Angel loved having whipped cream decorating his plate, Husk was a fan of honey baked into his, and Niffty's always looked like an icecream sundae with the amount of toppings she'd want. A classic syrup drizzled plate appeared at the head of the table, a seat fit for a king. So, when Lucifer wiped his hands clean of any baking reminents that might have been stuck on, he was struck with disbelief to a devilish smile meeting him, seated at the head of the table. At his seat.

"Well! What a pleasant surprise! I'm so glad to see you could finally join us!" Lucifer's chipper demeanor wavered as he spoke through his clenched teeth. Alastor slowly slid Lucifer's plate across the table to be in front of the seat next to his, a chair that was always left open, in the hopes that a certain demon would join. Well, here he is.

"Good morning! I've found myself with a bit of free time this morning, so I thought i'd kindly grace you all with my presence. I'm sure you've all been missing me this past few weeks, I do apologize for any worry i may have caused." Alastor smiles brightly, completely ignoring the fuming angel who sat down hard in the only available chair. Charlie was quick to reassure Alastor, simply stating that she's glad to see him and how she's just happy to see him join breakfast. But Lucifer was clearly not entertained by that answer, since it's simply just not true. Lucifer let's out a crood fake laugh before picking up his knife with a white knuckled fist.

"What, am I to simply watch everyone enjoy their breakfast? Am I to pick through the trash for my food? How crude!" Alastor puts on a woe-is-me fit, raising his arm to fain over his head in a fainting motion. Charlie loudly cleared her throat to gain her father's attention, then nudged her eyes in Alastor's direction before holding her hands together in a pleading motion. How can he say no to those puppy dog eyes? He can't, unfortunately. With a dramatic dropping of his utensils, Lucifer huffed his way into the kitchen, tying his already dirtied apron back around his waist.

Mumbling some angry profanities about a certain deer demon, he listened to the muffled conversations and laughs that went on right beyond the door. As he began to mix the batter, he heard the door swing open.

"I appreciate your work, Your Highness, but I am especially particular about my food. I'm sure you wouldn't mind me watching your methods, hmm?" Without any answer, the radio demon took a seat at the island across the counter, crossing his slender legs and propping his head up with his hands. Lucifer let out a quiet, "Oh Brother -" before quickening his pace with the whisk. "Now now! Don't let that frightful scrowl ruin my pancakes. I keep hearing of their excellence and I expect just that." He tuned in, his smile only becoming increasingly petty.

This went on the entire time. Lucifer made his pancakes with a scowl, his eye twitching at every little note or critique that came out in Alastor's staticky tone. Afterward, he was finally able to join his daughter for breakfast. Even if his plate had gotten cold, and everyone was essentially done with their own food, he made it a point smile and acted as if he didn't waste his morning on this red-headed prick. Lucifer began to clean up the table, with some help, but he surely didn't mind when Charlie had to take everyone to the lobby for an exercise that was supposed to start sooner than earlier. The worst part? The plate made fresh for Alastor sat perfectly untouched.

"Oh, come on! That fucking piece of ... " Lucifer grumbled, essentially cleaning up everything but that plate, simply too angered to look at it. He brought the dishes to the kitchen, plopping them into the sink. He set his ring to the side as he washed the dishes, humming a tune to calm his previous rage. Menial tasks always did help with that. A static song overwhelmed Lucifer's humming, snapping him out of his little trance and making him whip his head around, to see an all too close radio demon, holding his untouched pancakes in front of him. Lucifer groaned and rolled his eyes before returning to the dishes.

"Oh wow. So! Are you here to help me clean or make fun of how I do the dishes? Either way, I don't need it. Do me a favor and fuck off." Losing his cool for a moment, his final statement come out as a gravelly growl. Alastor let out a despicable cackle, placing the plate down next to the sink, having to lean over Lucifer to do so. Lucifer scoffed when he felt his back lightly brush the other's Torso, attempting to keep a blush from running across his face.

"Why no, good sir! I don't intend to help one bit, not to worry. I simply enjoy seeing a powerful king, such as yourself, acting as a meeger housewife." His voice was far too close to Lucifer's ear, a chill running up his spine as he felt his hot breath against the side of his cheek. In his best attempts to keep his cool, he stood rigged for a moment before continuing to scrub a plate that was already spotless.

"Don't forget your place, good sir - " he spoke in a mocking tone," - I could kill you with a snap of my fingers." He spat out, his face still not visible to the demon towering over him.

"Oh, I don't doubt it! Well, I won't interrupt you again, I am here to simply enjoy the view, as I said before." As he stepped away to sit back into a bar stool, a hushed static ran over Lucifer's body. His eye twitched as he continued to clean his dishes, hoping that ignorance would make him lose interest and find something better to do. It didn't

Alastor's eyes boar into his back the entire time. After a hasty clean-up, Lucifer was quick to set aside his apron and dust off his vest and sleeves to get the hell out of the room. The white noise of static was becoming unbearable. After letting out a sigh of relief, Lucifer blindly went to pick up his wedding band, his hand reaching out and meeting nothing but empty counter space. He began to panic, looking around frantically, patting down his pockets, even reaching into the sink.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck - " In the nervous state, he took no time to look back to Alastor, if he did, he'd be greeted with his smile growing impossibly wider.

"Missing something, your highness?" Alastor said with an innocent tone, batting his eyelashes at the king. Lucifer whipped his head around and slammed his fists on the counter in front of him, cracking the marble.

"What the fuck did you do?" His devil features were quick to sprout, starting with his tail that stuck straight up like a cat in distress, the tip just barely flicking. Alastor could feel the heat of the small flame that sparked at Lucifer's crown, sitting right between his lengthy horns that tore through his flesh. His eyes squinted with a terrifying red glow, completely enraged at Alastor's unphased expression.

"Oh, dear! Could you possibly be looking for this?" Alastor wiggled his hand in front of Lucifer's face, flaunting his own wedding band sitting pretty on his red claws. Lucifer wasted no time to reach out and grab it, but of course, Alastor easily got away by standing from his seat.

They danced around the kitchen for a moment, Alastor cackling at every near miss, which only pissed the king off more. His power was used poorly, making him run out of stamina much quicker than he would prefer, but still long enough to tire out the radio demon just as much. They stood a few feet away from eachother, panting heavily. Letting out a final growl, Lucifer flooded the room with his large wings and lunged out in one final attempt. Alastor, not exactly planning out his next move, popped the ring into his mouth in one smooth motion. Lucifer stumbled and stopped mid lunge, the sheer confusion hitting him more than anything.

"What in the unholy hell - What did you do?! Why??" The situation became comical for a moment, his rage dying down as he tried to wrap his head around the bold move.

"You want your ring back, Sweatheart? Come and get it." He spoke awkwardly, attempting to get his words out before opening his mouth and showing off the wedding band that sat right on the center of his tongue.

Lucifer immediately flushed red, his wings curling around his body before tucking behind his back again. This wasn't what Alastor originally had in plan, but seeing his reaction was just as well. He placed his hands on his hips and bent forward to meet Lucifer's eyes and present him with a much better view of his opened mouth.

They stood there for a moment silently. Alastor shut his eyes and hummed for a moment, closing his mouth and slipping the ring on the tip of tongue before sticking it out to present to Lucifer. It took him far too long to make the decision, but Lucifer took a painful grip onto his shoulders and smashed his open mouth against Alastor's presented tongue. He was far too startled too grasp the situation in time, allowing Lucifer to skilfully wrap his forked tongue around Alastor's prying the ring off and into his own mouth. He pulled away, their tongues still connected with a line of saliva for a moment.

Lucifer placed his hand below his mouth and gently spat out his ring, sliding it carefully on his finger still covered in their mixed spit. He never broke eye contact with the dazed deer demon. Lucifer smirked, crossing his arms across his puffed out chest with pride, as if he won something. He let out a satisfied hum before his eyes followed Alastor's body moving towards him. Standing nearly toe to toe, Lucifer had to crain his neck to see Alastor's glowing eyes.

"Do it, again." His voice was low and gravely, a loud static screeching for a moment causing Lucifer to hiss and cover his ears. Taking the oppurtunity, Alastor took a strong hold onto Lucifer's jaw, pulling him upwards until he was struggling to keep his feet on the ground. He held onto his wrist, an angry glint in his eye, yet silent.

"Did you not hear me, Your Highness? Do. It. Again." He couldn't prevent his face from heating up at the demand, slightly gasping for breath. Mustering his strength, he rolled his eyes and sent a wicked grin to Alastor, his face still held in his hands.

"Sure~"

Lucifer took in a fistful of the demon's red hair and yanked it towards his face, making their lips crash together in a heated attempt to take control of the situation. Alastor lost his grip, allowing Lucifer to firmly plant his feet back on the ground. He kept a tight grip on his hair, keeping the towering demon at his level by bending him over uncomfortably at the hip. He continued to wrestle his forked tongue around Alastor's mouth, no matter how hard he tried to keep up with the king, he couldnt help but melt into the moment. And he feel absolute shame because of it.

After what seemed like meer seconds, Lucifer pulled his hair back, causing his neck to uncomfortably crane backwards. He fell to his knees, the only way to break the discomfort of his current stature. He panted heavily, his arms dropped to his side in a beautiful display of obedience. Lucifer's irises glew a shade of blood red at the sight in front of him. He leaned down just slightly to meet his eyes, finally having the upperhand, "I'll do it again, Sure. But - you have to admit that I won." He grinned almost innocently, making Alastor's limp expression immediately turn into a snarl.

"Go on, then. Admit defeat. You lost."

He'd never admit it, but Alastor found himself in an absolutely helpless situation. He was overpowered.

"Sire, you can't possibly be serious, I would hardly call this a game, don't -" before he could attempt to charm his way out of it, Lucifer readjusted the grasp on his hair to lift his head up by his ears. He yelped.

"Ahha! That's a fun noise! Go ahead and do it again, Darling. I'll give you what you want~" Lucifer kept a tight hold on the other demons ears, feeling them twitch in his fist. He leaned down slightly just hovering over his lips, before yanking his ears forward to connect them with his. The sudden motion made another quiet yelp come from Alastor's lips, but it was muffled between their heavy breaths combined.

He reached upwards, grabbing Lucifer's vest and pulling him down until his knees hit the floor painfully. The sudden jolt caused Lucifer's teeth to graze the inside of his cheek, a small amount of blood mixing in between their lips. Alastor tasted it almost immediately, grabbing Lucifer's sides and pulling him into his torso, sloppily trying to lap up any of the angelic blood that spilled from his mouth.

Lucifer pulled away, pushing on Alastor's chest to keep a distance. As they caught their breath, Alastor licked his lips clean of the golden blood that he managed to obtain. He let out a low growl, before picking up Lucifer by his waist and tossing him hastily onto the counter. Pulling him right to the edge, their bodies completely pressed together, he locked their lips again. Lucifer lost his powerful composure for a moment, gripping Alastor's back and letting out a pathetic whimper into the kiss.

Alastor responded by biting Lucifer's lip, allowing more of his sweet blood to spill into his mouth. He slipped his hands between the two of them, slicing the threads of each button that held his vest and shirt together with ease. Pulling his shirt to the side before he could even realize his top was undone, Alastor pulled away from his lips and let out a heavy breath at the nape of his neck before anchoring his pointed teeth at the softest part of his skin.

Lucifer let out a careful moan, quick to cover his mouth lazily to hold back any other noises. His hand was quickly ripped away from his lips, Alastor guiding it back to the top of his head. He quickly took a grasp of his hair again, desperate for anything to anchor himself to reality.

After leaving a lovely trail of bloody bruises and bites across his entire chest, tainting the procelain white skin, he stepped back to look at his work. Lucifer was a panting mess, hair stuck to his forehead and eyes dazed. His shirts had fallen off his shoulders and he was still attempting to catch his breath. Alastor recovered much quicker, wiping the trail of glowing blood that flowed down Lucifer's chin with his thumb and licking it clean himself.

"Well, I suppose I'll admit to defeat and leave you to your duties, your highness." He swipes some invisible dust from his coat before holding his hands behind his back and heading towards the door.

"Ah, and might I say, you make quite the meal!" He said chipperly, leaving a stunned Lucifer still seated on the countertop as the radio static that once flooded his senses slowly ceased.

♡♡♡

Also just saying, I took some inspo from a radioapple drawing I saw on IG and i cannot for the life of me find it again so I'll include it if anyone finds it :,)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer morningstar #alastor smut #hazbin alastor #alastor and lucifer #lucifer and alastor #lucifer x alastor #help me i'm dying #radioapple #hazbin fanfic #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction

165 notes · View notes

cinnamonest · 1 year

Text

Yandere Profile - Alhaitham

Finally got this one done!

---

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Alhaitham is the type of obsessed that has a slow descent. It's not an "at first sight" sort of thing, like some obsessives might experience.

When Alhaitham first meets people, he doesn't think much of them, he's not the type to make assumptions or rush to conclusions, be it positive or negative, unless the person makes a particularly bad impression within the first conversation (this can be accomplished by being generally rude or condescending, but of course, that's not too common of a neutral encounter). While this means he's not particularly judgemental from the get-go, it's not necessarily a positive thing either -- he knows far too well that many people can appear very pleasant at first, as one often does with strangers, but this is, of course, a social courtesy. Not that it's one he really plays along with, seeing as he has no problem being upfront and blunt with people, but he knows that most people abide by a sort of social convention of expected politeness and cheerfulness to strangers.

Thus, when you first meet him, he doesn't have much of an opinion of you either way. It's a quick exchange, you come to drop something off at his office on an occasion he happens to be there. You smile, speak in a pleasant tone, thank him and leave. The same as pretty much everyone. The incident is forgettable.

He'll still recognize your face, though, seeing you at a distance. Not that he's the kind of person to strike up conversation for the sake of it, but he'll sort of see you out of the corner of his eye in a public area or crowd. A subconscious recognition he barely takes into account, doesn't think about, it's just there in the back of his mind.

Once that happens again, and again, he might give it a passing thought, that that's the same person he's seen a few times over now. You get to have another, longer interaction -- basically the same thing again, dropping something off, but this time you ask a question or make a comment or something, thus prolonging the conversation if but only for a few seconds. The memory of that exchange sticks with him.

Eventually, he finds himself looking forward to it. Not that that's a big deal, you're a pleasant person after all, and even if he's not fond of socialization, he can't help but enjoy your nice attitude towards him. He's self-aware enough to know that that obviously indicates he's developing an attachment of sorts, but that in and of itself isn't a bad thing. Contrary to how some might view him, it's not as if he doesn't have people he considers acquaintances, people he's fond of.

Likewise, sometimes a few days in a row will pass where he hasn't seen you around, and he'll find his thoughts wandering to you. What you're doing, what you're up to. Of course, you only come see him when you have something to drop off, and oftentimes it's when he's not even there, he'll just find a folder or paper from you laid on the desk. But sometimes, for once, he finds himself staying in his office a bit longer than usual. As if by some chance, if he stays just a few minutes more than usual, that will ever so slightly increase the chance he might be present at a time you decide to stop by. And once or twice, it actually does work, so he discovers.

It's never for a prolonged period of time or anything. Just brief interactions, quick exchanges. He imagines you have plenty of those with plenty of people throughout your day. Something about that realization, as it comes to him one day, almost feels a bit upsetting. To realize that the interactions aren't anything special, that he's just one of countless people you probably talk to each day, seeing as your role seems to revolve around being a messenger and errand-runner of sorts.

Those thoughts become more and more common. Day by day. Gradually increasing. He's not sure at what point he recognized the odd feeling you give him, but he's certainly been aware of it for some time now. At first, the emotion strikes him as something frustrating. An annoyance. An inconvenience. Having something that keeps occupying his thoughts begins slowing the various processes involved in both personal and professional tasks, it takes a toll on his efficiency.

He's aware of the emotional and sentiment itself -- it's a very natural occurrence, after all. Like any animal, humans are biologically programmed with mating instincts, and even if it works against one's best interest, those instincts will persist, create urges, nonetheless.

But you've been nice to him, he can't bring himself to direct that frustration at you. In fact, whenever he sees you and speaks to you, that irritation goes away, but is quickly replaced by a more awkward feeling, a different sort of frustration. Frankly, it feels shameful, although those reactions are certainly what those sentiments tend to be known for causing. That just makes it feel more frustrating, though. The knowledge that this feeling is likely part of his own innate brain function, yet it's out of his control.

But, whatever, it's not anything that's going to cause a problem, it's just something he'll keep to himself and never act upon, and eventually, life will naturally take its course and you'll likely change positions or move somewhere else, and he won't really see much of you again. Until then, he'll just quietly live with it, and keep his thoughts about the matter to a minimum.

...Or at least, he tries. It proves difficult to do so. What makes it worse is the inherent gradually more and more irritating conflict between what his conscious mind wants to do and get done, versus the way his subconscious seems to constantly cause his thoughts to drift, and soon he snaps out of the thoughts and realizes he's been sitting there staring at a report he was supposed to be reviewing for the past twenty minutes. The feeling that one's own mind and body won't cooperate with one's active will is infuriating, more so than he has ever dealt with before.

Talking to you becomes a sort of craving, and he finds that the sort of natural high that it gives him in turn diminishes the negative feeling for a while. Thus, against his better judgement, he finds himself seeking you out.

All in all, he's has a methodical, generally calculated way he approaches most matters. The first few conversations you had were candid, yes but beyond that it becomes carefully premeditated. You never know that the interactions are intentional, it's always presented as coincidentally running into you. Thankfully for him, you never seem to suspect otherwise. He gets a good idea of your schedule, your habits.

But he can't do it constantly, or you'll know it's intentional. Yet, the urge to see you is still overwhelming, consuming all his thoughts, making him jittery and restless. The only solution, then, is to just... watch you. He begins to develop a habit of keeping an eye on you from a distance, often while working on other things too. When he's by himself, he can't concentrate very well, but when he has an eye on you, when you're within his range of sight so he can look up every now and then, it's an incredibly relieving feeling, and he can actually focus and be productive.

Of course, it does bother him, he's perfectly aware of how abnormally intense he's getting. That, too, makes it all that much more frustrating. To know it's all in his head, yet he can't mentally will the feeling away... what an incredibly inconvenient function of the mind. He tried the deprivation method once already, thinking that if he forced himself to not see you for a while, it would help, and the desire to see you would decrease... but it doesn't. He also even searched around for academic material related to the subject to see if he could find anything in the psychology archives, but most of what was available was all either advice from the perspective of the victim of stalking (and yes, seeing the word "victim" used as a descriptor was deeply unnerving, he had to take a few minutes to get over the realization that it isn't incorrect, he just hadn't thought of it that way...), or legal and procedural guidelines on the subject (possibly even more unnerving).

It worries him, starts to make him concerned for the sake of his productivity and self-control. Hopes he won't do something to make a fool of himself in front of you... or even worse, if you were to catch him following you.

He just can't stop. And worst of all, he knows that sooner or later, if the pattern thus far is anything to go by, it will just get worse. And yet, he feels stuck, there's nothing he can really do to fix it, and that leaves him with a horrible, worried feeling of helplessness...

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

He starts off fairly normal in terms of his desires and urges. In the earliest stages, he would never dream of doing such a thing. He's certainly not an unnecessarily straight-edge person who always follows social conventions and standards of ethical behavior, no, but he's a generally well-natured individual who by no means would intentionally do something wildly illegal and harmful for nothing but selfish gain.

For some, these ideas sort of have to slowly work their way into infecting the mind. The individual will initially reject the idea they deem absurd or unthinkable, blow it off as an intrusive thought that means nothing, only for it to slowly cement itself in their innermost thoughts, until suddenly the idea no longer seems so outlandish as it once did.

Alhaitham falls into this category. It takes a while before such thoughts take root in his mind. The process is slow, gradual. It will be one little intrusive thought that seems to venture just beyond the standards of normalcy, something like discontentment with uncertainty to your current whereabouts or well-being causing begrudging remark to himself to pop up in his head -- if only he could keep you in one place, all the time.

If only, then he wouldn't have to worry... but that is, of course, unrealistic, and ridiculous. You can't simply do that to a person. He doesn't think much of the thought itself, though; after all, intrusive thoughts are by nature often bizarre and unrealistic. Sort of like the phenomenon of how, when people stand at a spot overlooking a great height, they may suddenly have an odd compulsive thought that they could leap off the edge. But, of course, the average person would not actually do that. Very odd and certainly highly unlikely to be acted upon, of course, but despite how bizarre such thoughts are, it's recorded to be a very common psychological phenomenon, meaning that intrusive thoughts aren't abnormal, only acting upon them would be abnormal. Such thoughts are just some odd hardwiring in the brain. This is no different.

Those thoughts, however, seem to begin to gradually become more and more frequent. Not only that, but they become somewhat... perhaps darker is the appropriate descriptor. More intense in terms of the severity of the content of the thoughts.

He catches himself thinking about the matter almost casually. He'll be working on something at random, one of those idle tasks that requires no real thought and therefore allows the mind to drift. It's bad enough by itself, but in particular, the spontaneous fantasies get a bit darker if he's been busy and gone a few days without any sort of relief, which starts to occur and align with those times he finds himself fantasizing every now and then. The unreleased energy builds up and leads to a frustration, which results in his mind going almost immediately to much more graphic, explicit types of thoughts, the imagery in his head.

But he still catches himself in the process. He stops. Blinks a few times, rapidly shakes his head for a second, as if to expel the thought. For a few seconds, he's in a state of pause, as if surprised by the very thought he's caught himself in. Yes, the initial intrusive thoughts he could dismiss, but as time goes on, the severity and frequency starts to feel worrisome, strikes him as concerning, leaves an unpleasant sensation like a knot in one's stomach. But even though it does bother him a bit, he still doesn't really know exactly what to do about it, which leaves him sort of stuck.

What's he supposed to do? Thankfully, he knows the law well enough to know not to go to a therapist or something of the sort -- revealing any sort of thoughts that could make you a threat to yourself or others can get you involuntarily committed. He's actually rather grateful he's aware of that fact, or else he might have unknowingly walked right into that. It's doubtful that a professional would interpret 'yeah I have vivid fantasies of imprisoning someone I've never spoken to for more than a minute at a time' as anything other than unwell. So that's out of the question.

The only other obvious idea would be to distract himself, and he does try. Makes an attempt to immerse himself in other interests and responsibilities, takes up a new pastime even. It doesn't work. Even while working on other things, he finds himself spacing out, and sure enough, within no time his mind is back to those same thoughts.

Over the course of time, it begins to slowly wear down his resistance. The thoughts start to feel "normal."

One of the problems is that he tries to reason with himself, think it through very logically to dissuade himself, and even intentionally seeks out material in hopes of discouraging himself. Problem is, it has the opposite of the intended effect. It starts to sound rational, doable. Even the ethical aspect of it ceases to bother him nearly as much as it once did. Every point he was using to hold himself back and refrain starts to fall apart, the longer he thinks about it, the more he looks into it.

'I don't have the means to get away with it.'

Well, no. Now that he thinks about it, part of the general curriculum all young students take involved some chemistry, and he could very easily make sedatives and tranquilizers. It wouldn't be hard.

'I couldn't carry the body from one place to another without being seen.'

In fact, he scoped out the route to prove that to himself... only to find that your dorm is a singular one, at the very edge of the campus, where almost no one goes late at night.

'I wouldn't have the opportunity.'

And yet, following you around for a bit proves there are plenty of windows of time where you're alone, especially in your own dorm at night.

'I'd be found out eventually.'

But after doing some research on the matter, he comes to learn that the vast majority of kidnapping victims are never found, the opposite of what he was hoping to see. If it were the case, if there was a huge chance of him being found out, he could refrain on those grounds alone, but knowing how possible it is, how easy it would be, imagining it in his head and how cleanly he could pull it off... it's too much. It pushes him over the edge.

Impulses are such an odd thing, the way they can cloud the mind, lead one to act almost subconsciously, against their better judgement, the adrenaline of it too strong to break free of the sort of trance it puts one into. Still, it's not as if he doesn't plan ahead at all. The whole thing is sort of a haze, not just the acting-out stage of it. He hasn't exactly mastered the fine art of kidnapping, but there's some obvious measures that should be taken beforehand. He finds himself wandering over to this or that specific store, this resource storage unit, slowly collecting necessary things, taking necessary precautionary measures, refreshing his knowledge on how sedatives are made and work. All without actively acknowledging it at the time, lets his mind become preoccupied with unrelated thoughts while going about it, but nonetheless knowing why.

Still, it's more of a distant thought, one that slowly becomes more and more "real" as the day approaches. He doesn't actually remember circling one day in particular on his calendar. That too must have been something he did subconsciously at some point. Nonetheless, he knows what it indicates, and as that day grows closer, he gets more uneasy. Still, that same adrenaline haze and dissociative state of mind allows him to ignore the still very much present sense of reason -- yes, his reasoning and rationality is still there, and quite active. If anything, the two forces create a great deal of internal conflict. Maybe that rationality could have won out, if he'd just had one little circumstance go differently, or just let himself think about it a bit longer... but it doesn't. Instead, he finds himself arriving at that day, quietly waiting for the sun to set and the right time to come along, and when it does, his feet seem to move on their own.

You would think this sort of thing would slow down one's perception of time due to alertness, but it's actually quite the opposite. Maybe it's the adrenaline, or maybe just panic, but regardless, it all seems to actually happen very fast. One second he's leaving his house, looking each way to check for potential bystanders and witness risks, and in the blink of an eye he's already made the trek over to where your dwelling is. Waiting and waiting... that's the only part that actually seems to take a while, the painstaking, frustrating waiting period. Not to mention the thought of how pathetic it would seem if anyone were to see, concealing himself in shadows of the buildings, crouching in shrubbery up to his waist, like some kind of stalker... well, now that he thinks about it, he probably does qualify as exactly that... but he tries not to think about that.

When you actually do finally show up though, when your soft footsteps approach closer and closer, unexpectedly, he freezes up. For all that planning and premeditation and self-convincing, now that the moment is actually here, there's a second of hesitation. Maybe it's the look on your face, visible even in the nighttime darkness. So happy and blissful and so innocently naive of danger lurking so close. And he would be taking that away from you, ruining it. That feels suffocating. For just a split second, he almost feels like he can't bring himself to do it.

...Almost.

That second of hesitation passes, mind snapped out of it by the keys jingling in your hands and subsequent realization that the window of opportunity will be lost as soon as you close the door behind you. That's what breaks the stiffness of hesitation, makes his feet move forward on their own again.

Of course, you do thrash around, rather fiercely, presumably putting all your strength into it. You drop the keys, reach your hands up to claw at his own latched over your mouth. Your muffled cries against the fabric pressed to your face are, admittedly, quite gut-wrenching. But it only lasts a few moments. Your full weight then falls back against him, limp and silent. All in what feels like a heartbeat.

The journey back also passes by fast -- although perhaps not quite as much so as the walk to your home, seeing as he's now hyper-alert of every sound, shape and shadow, looking out for any potential witnesses. Of course, he already has an excuse ready to give if seen on the way back, something about you being sick or passed out, but nonetheless, the ideal number of encounters is zero.

And that works just as hoped. No encounters, no issues. It almost feels like the will of the universe is on his side or something, with how easily it goes. And thankfully, the adrenaline is still strong enough that the whole weight of the reality of it all and thus having to come to terms with his actions hasn't quite come crashing down just yet... although he's aware that will happen any minute now. For now, he just has to get you inside.

Except that actually turns out to be far from the biggest hurdle that remains to cross over. There's also one other very significant, pressing issue that can't be overlooked. And yet, in all his careful planning, he somehow, amazingly, did overlook it. Forgot to think about one critical detail in the plan, one that should have, by all means, been so incredibly obvious that it's literally astounding that it somehow did not occur to him until that moment.

He walks through the front door, takes a few steps in, does that sort of ever-so-slight tossing motion to re-secure your position in his arms. Comes to a freezing halt as he passes by a table towards the front of the house.

...

There's several seconds of suspended silence.

He looks at Kaveh. Kaveh looks at him, equally frozen still mid-pen stroke. Looks down at his arms and the contents thereof. Looks back up at him. Blinks a few times. A few more seconds pass.

...This isn't what it looks like. I can explain.

Yes, he knows he's digging himself into a hole, but the look of pure bewilderment on the other's face combined with the situation as a whole leads him to actually lose a bit of composure for once, trying to find an explanation that makes sense. And yes, the fact that he's lying is only going to dig said hole even deeper, and he's pretty sure the lie isn't being bought, but he comes up with something about how you were a drunken passerby stumbling outside of a nearby tavern, practically fell right into his arms, so he's just letting you stay here the night is all. He'll get you wherever you need to be in the morning.

Of course, he's immediately hit with a barrage of questions, but the insistent rambling just gives him an excuse to dismiss them all with claims of explaining in the morning. No, he's not going to sleep out here in the main room, he'll just sleep on the floor of the bedroom is all, he says. Going to such a measure would be unnecessary.

That will, at the very least, give him some time to think of how on earth he's going to actually explain the situation without his tenant going off on him, if not worse... he'll have to tell him the truth eventually. Granted, he does consider a what-if along the lines of if he'd brought you in another way and kept you away, but... no, it would be impossible to hide you from him forever. Best to get it over with now. Rather than entrenching himself in some complex lie, he'll have to just break it to him slowly... after all, he does depend on him for a living space, so he can't afford to have him dragged off to prison or anything, right? Maybe he can exchange silence for a rent reduction...

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Restraint is a simple process, and he already has that planned out ahead of time, at least for a temporary solution. Primarily, it's just locking you in a room. Gets a deadbolt installed on the outside of the room prior to bringing you home, and gets a barricade bar installed as well. At first, you'll actually be confined to the bed itself, but he knows that's not good for you both in terms of psychological well-being as well as your muscular health and hygiene, so he'll try to progress to the stage where you can roam the room as quickly as possible... hopefully you'll be cooperative.

He really, really does want your cooperation. He's not really sadistic, nor cruel -- a bit callous at times, sure, but really, although he understands you aren't going to be thrilled when you wake up and have to have it explained to you (not that he does so very well, he basically just leaves it at that you'll be staying here with him and nothing more), he would really prefer that you accept your situation and get used to it as much as possible, that you cooperate and try to make the best of it. Ideally, you could even come to be fully content with your circumstances... but he tries not to let himself hope too much, seeing how unrealistic that thought is. Yes, it would be nice, but for his own sake, he has to enforce it even if you're not cooperative.

Don't expect any help from the other inhabitant, either. You're still not sure what sort of miracle-working Alhaitham pulled to make it so after that first night, but somehow, he managed to convince Kaveh, albeit very reluctantly and almost certainly with bribery involved, to at the very least not ruin things by going to an authority. He's still far from happy with it and very clearly uncomfortable, that much is evident just from his facial expressions and heavy sighs and general avoidance, but he's compliant nonetheless. Turns out, if the homeowner goes to prison, the house will be reclaimed by the Akademiya, and, well... anyway, he seems to just try to ignore it, pretend the situation doesn't exist to the best of his ability... which becomes more and more of a struggle.

Thus, the primary issue making escape difficult is that you're more or less under constant monitoring, seeing as there is rarely a moment where both residents are absent from the home. You don't really get opportunities, seeing as even if you were to find a way to exit the room, you couldn't get out of the house without being seen. Perhaps you could manipulate Kaveh's sympathetic nature, but he almost seems to know you'd try that, and makes it a point to avoid walking by your door whenever Alhaitham isn't present, largely because he knows he wouldn't be able to resist if you pulled some guilt-tripping measure. So you'll have to scratch that plan.

The only real chance you'll get is the very rare occasion that you're left fully alone, should you somehow manage to undo the locks and break the barricade bar by some incredible means. Should you somehow manage to do so, and should he come home to an empty house... he has to struggle to keep calm. It's one of the few times in life he truly, outwardly panics, eyes blown wide and shaky as he makes his way out to look for you.

Should he actually manage to find you before it's too late, or should your escape attempt be foiled in a way that makes it obvious that you did try, well... you feel surprised at first that he doesn't seem too upset. No yelling, no outrage, just... quiet. A very cold, tense sort of quiet, but quiet nonetheless.

Truth is, he can't blame you. Any thoughts of being mad at you seem ridiculous and foolish, he would feel ashamed to get upset over something you both know full well is in the nature of any person in your situation. Of course you want to be free. And here he is, dragging you back, making you miserable. The whole thing really depresses him for some time, he doesn't talk to you for nearly a full day, and even then it's just a word here or there. It takes some time to go back to normal.

But hey, at least you don't really face too much consequence for it, he's too hurt and demoralized by your attempt to even summon the anger required to do anything about it... but he may have to force himself to take disciplinary measures if it becomes a repeated incident.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

He has the same duality seen in a lot of "genius" types where he is both amazingly perceptive, and yet, can every now and then be astoundingly, almost comically dense. However, unlike some others with the same trait, he leans more towards perceptive than dense, just not always. So it is, in fact, possible to trick him, but only sometimes. It's a toss-up, you never know which way he'll go in a given scenario, and unfortunately that unpredictability means it's taking a significant risk each and every time you want to try.

Lying to him is something that does irritate him, but there are other things that would make him far angrier. That is, lying is not the absolute worst thing you can possibly do like some others might treat it, but it's not a good idea. One of the particularly unfortunate aspects of this is that he remembers each incident very well and never forgets an offense, so you'll just dig yourself deeper into a hole over time the more you make a habit of lying.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Privileges are something earned over time, and he'll get progressively more and more lenient as time goes on... thankfully, he's not one of those who would keep you at the same strict restriction level forever, but he's also not the type to be naively lenient. He knows full well that you'll take any chance to get out if that opportunity presents itself.

At first, you're confined to the bed, and then that progresses to being confined to the bedroom as a whole. Of course, he meticulously goes over every single object in said bedroom to ensure there's nothing laying around that you could use to your advantage or to attack him. Over time, he takes the same pattern commonly seen in such abductors, wherein he gradually increases the space to which you're confined -- first it's the bed, then the whole bedroom, then he'll start a sort of trial period in which he tests how you're willing to behave if you're allowed into the other areas of the house, under very close supervision.

Should you present problems, you'll just go right back to room confinement. But if you should behave well, he can get just ever so slightly more lenient, in which you're allowed to semi-freely roam the house -- just under supervision. He won't stay right by your side the way he does during the "trial period," and you can wander to the other side of the room and do your own thing if he's working on something, but he will make sure you're still in his sight at all times. When he's not at home to watch you, you'll still be confined to the room.

Well, unless he can convince Kaveh to watch you... that takes a lot of your complaining, of course, because at first he would never think to do so on his own. It would be far too easy for you to convince such a bleeding heart to let you go or do things you're not allowed to do, and he can't trust him not to get distracted.

But still, after a while, you start to whine and whine about it. He's here, so why do I have to stay in the room? He shuts your argument down the first few times, but the whining becomes annoying enough that he finally says fine, that he'll consider it. Granted, he knows it'll take convincing (and probably further reductions to his pseudo-landlord side income), but hey, maybe it'll earn some favor from you.

He's still very cautious about it though, never leaves you two alone for any extended time, should you try and convince Kaveh to let you go. Or even worse, a thought that admittedly is an embarrassing paranoia, but he can't help but let it cross his mind nonetheless, what if you pulled some stunt to seduce him and then used that to get out while he passed out, or use it to get him vulnerable enough to really injure him or something... ugh, he doesn't like to think about that. Not for Kaveh's wellbeing or anything, that's less important, but getting essentially cucked might be even worse than going to prison for his crimes.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Once you are confined, he can set actual guidelines. However, he's more likely to just... make sure you can't do the things he would prefer you not to by simply making it unavailable. Anything he'd not want you to see or read or mess with will be safely locked away, or kept where you can't reach. This includes anything you could use to harm him or yourself, as well as things like rat poison and sleeping pills... wouldn't want you poisoning his food or anything.

Which does bring up another matter, that if possible, provided you've been at least somewhat compliant, he'll essentially delegate tasks to you to help him out. You're bored, right? You complain about having nothing to do, so, once you're trusted enough, you can, you know, help out a bit, clean up around the place, make food (under supervision initially, and more trusted as time goes on). And in addition to each newly earned freedom, there has to be some responsibilities that come with that.

Eventually, should you make a habit of complaining, the bastard even has the audacity to suggest that if you're so bored, here, do his job for him. Copies of a bunch of of reports and applications for you to review. You're a student, so you can at least have some idea of standards, right? Just highlight parts you think are issues, he'll still read it of course, he can't trust you that much, but your notes will make the process go by faster. That should kill a few hours. Have fun.

Otherwise, he's not the sort of individual to enforce behavioral rules in terms of attitude. Forcing you to be all sweet and smiley would just make you resent him, and it would be fake, not authentic. He's also the sort of person who sees no point in inauthenticity, wouldn't derive any satisfaction from you being pleasant towards him if he knows it's performative or manipulative or done out of fear or pressure. Why anyone would want or enjoy that is beyond him, it doesn't make sense if you ask him.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

He's at an impasse. Alhaitham is not exactly the most socially inclined person in the world, and while he normally doesn't really care too much for abiding by social conventions of appropriateness and politeness, and has very little qualms with coming off as rude to or offending someone he finds distasteful, he still is self-aware enough to be embarrassed by the thought of trying to intimidate or directly confront someone like that. Making a scene, or even just doing something foolish in front of you, is an avenue he does not intend to take, and would in fact prefer to avoid at all costs.

That being said, he can get driven up the wall by individuals he finds irritating or obnoxious, and the concept of a "rival" in that sense is a quick way to become someone on his mental list of such people. This puts him in a disadvantageous position -- he's not someone who will be overtly and immediately confrontational, but rivals do get under his skin quite a bit, so he's basically just left to suffer the frustration and paranoia whilst feeling relatively helpless to do much of anything about it.

Overall, he's very unlikely to kill. He's not particularly impulsive or rash, so he wouldn't do so on a whim, and he's pretty good at regulating his emotions, so even if it's infuriating, he can manage to keep calm enough not to make a mistake he might regret. And as an individual with higher-than-average self-awareness, as well as a reasonably normal and functional sense of conscience, he'd prefer to avoid killing even when given the chance to premeditate, as well.

It's not as if the thought didn't cross his mind, though, especially at some particularly infuriating moments, like when you give the other person seemingly positive responses. Of course, he can easily recognize that violent urges are a natural response to irritants, but it still feels discouraging, as he would usually think himself above such things, he considers himself a respectable person with dignity, the sort of person who doesn't resort to violence unless necessary.

If that persists -- that is, you keep responding to said rivals' affections in ways he would prefer you not to -- he'll most likely take a sort of alternative route that doesn't seem like quite the same blow to his pride. If he were to resort to homicide, that would be incredibly shameful, he'd feel disappointed in and ashamed of his own self for stooping so low over something so selfish... so, by contrast, abusing his authority doesn't seem quite so bad. Even if the thought of it does still make him feel some sense of shame, all he has to do is think of it comparatively, and when you consider it the alternative to killing someone, it seems far less ignoble by said comparison, and thus, comparing it that way makes him feel both less shameful, and more bold.

It's actually rather easy, provided he's still Acting Grand Sage, but even if before or after that period of his life, he can always write a few things here or there, file a report for this or that anonymously, then claim to have witnessed the same thing himself, adding to credibility, feign some evidence if necessary. Turns out it doesn't take all that much to get someone removed. He tries to go light on them and merely fake some offense to get them on probation or something that will have them far away from their former post, but if it does get them get expelled entirely... well, he's not complaining.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He gets irked easily.

It would be incorrect to say that he doesn't show it, but he doesn't show it very loudly, or in a way that draws attention. Oftentimes, you can look at his face and body language and easily tell he's displeased, but he'll stay relatively quiet if it's not significant. With mildly irritating things or people, even though he has no real qualms with getting blunt with people if need be, most of the time it's still easier and less bothersome to just keep quiet and try to ignore the object of irritation.

It's not at all difficult to push him past that line, though. Again, he has no issues with getting very blunt and direct with people if need be, and will not really hesitate to tell someone exactly what he thinks of their behavior, attitude, or actions, nor will he soften his words.

Well, most people. With you, it sort of depends. Oftentimes, you're actually no exception to that -- he might hesitate for a mere moment, but if you persist even once, he'll outright tell you if you're being irritating or bothersome, all in that tactless, blunt way of his. However, truthfully, although he would never admit to it, he does have a soft spot for your feelings and can be very weak to any pitiful displays. So if you look hurt or sad after he says something very direct, blunt and insensitive, or as he's starting to speak a few sentences, he'll stop mid-speech, sigh, turn back to whatever he was doing and mutter something along the lines of just knock it off or just don't do that again. He can't be mean to you, he'd feel terrible. He already struggles with finding ways to express affection, so it won't help if the only sentiment you get from him is negative, it will just push you away.

That all being said, there's a limit to that. If you really, really push him, do your best to cause problems and antagonize him out of spite, he can lose his patience, and the irritation become enough that he does lay into you without any filter or buffer for the sake of your feelings... only to immediately regret it when your eyes get all teary, you either stomp away and slam the door on your way back to the bedroom, or if already in there, you pout and throw yourself down onto the mattress, cocooning yourself in blankets pulled over your head, and don't respond to anything he says.

Great. Now you're upset, and he's screwed up and made things worse... the sensitivity of others is a huge part of why he's not fond of socializing, and yet it's unavoidable when he actually wants someone in his life. He's still actually rather frustrated at you, but the wallowing in self-directed frustration is even worse. He'll just have to just suck it up and try to get you to not be upset anymore. So after giving both of your selves a while to calm down in separate rooms (if you were both in the bedroom, he'll leave to go cool his own head), he'll try to go back into the bedroom and talk things out with you and--

...Hey. Did you -- you locked the door from the inside. Goddammit. Open the door right now, or else...

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

He's fairly apathetic, the type to sigh at the mention of such a concept. People trying to determine whether or not another person is "greater" or "lesser" than themselves based on some arbitrary, undefined concept of "value" seems like the sort of thing that some of the more irritating types of pretentious, pseudo-intellectual academics in the philosophies would obsess over, he knows plenty of individuals of the sort. Besides, it's honestly a rather logically erroneous concept, really.

He can recognize individuals as better or worse in particular areas. It's akin to that whole venture he went on regarding the individual fixated on evolving the human condition -- he can acknowledge where one person's skills lie versus another's, and how productive or useful a person might be. But that's an applied sort of value, and where one individual lacks it, another might have it, and vice versa. An entirely different matter than the idea of an individual having some overall, collective, cumulative worth composing their entire person, based on some undefinable standard. There's no such way to measure or evaluate such a thing, since it cannot be practically applied like a degree of value in one particular area could be, therefore, he would actually conclude that the very notion is fallacious.

Notably, though, when it comes to the whole practical applied worth thing, he's not the type to be blinded by affection. That is, if you're terrible at something, well, he'll know, he won't be self-deluded into perceiving it as good. Granted, since he does like you, he won't be as blunt as he would with someone whose good favor he cares for as much, but might try to very lightly redirect you to something he feels you to be better-suited for.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

As with most things, he's very practical and straightforward, doesn't lie to himself, doesn't engage in naive wishful thinking. He also recognizes that doing what he did in the first place is more or less shooting himself in the foot in terms of getting any affection from you, a major setback. Sometimes he might even feel a bit of regret, think about what he could have done if he hadn't gone and taken you away from your life and brought you here, how he might have slowly won you over on your own free will.

But the urge was just too much to resist. And even when thinking about the "what-ifs", even when considering how things could have gone differently and worked out in his favor, he's then hit with the reminder that even if you were together on your own will, you'd still have the freedom to leave at any time, you'd still have the option to go places on your own, talk to other people on your own. When he thinks about that, then, the thought is gut-wrenching enough that he finds himself glad he didn't take that route. It's just something he couldn't handle. He knows, as with everything before, that that's not normal, that it indicates a defect, an abnormality in his psyche, but at this point, he's more or less accepted that.

Of course he's going to try, but then there's also the issue that he's not particularly effective or adept at successfully expressing affection, and finds it awkward anyhow, so he doesn't come off as very affectionate. His affection comes across in more subtle and unspoken ways, small acts that remind you he does care for you. He's attentive to your needs, will notice if you look cold, hungry, and so on, and fetch the respective necessity to resolve any such discomfort, without you needing to say anything. If he sees something he thinks you might like, notices an opportunity to do something for you that would make you happy or potentially earn favor points from you, he'll swiftly see to doing so.

He's just not going to do things that would be too awkward or out of line for him and his nature, like verbal displays of affection or clingy physical gestures. His hope is that, nonetheless, you will gradually come to recognize and appreciate the efforts he does make, and that your acknowledgement will eventually endear him to you, override any resentment you have, and gradually lead you to feeling affection for him too.

And hey, if nothing else, he's read enough to have learned before that extended isolation has certain effects on a person. That is, accounts from the past and certain studies would suggest that if a person is kept in prolonged confinement with only one or a few other persons, they will, in almost all circumstances, eventually become emotionally attached to them, given the natural human craving for social connections, and the lack of other available options. So, logically, keeping you here should eventually yield the desired results.

But he's also not going to delude himself into thinking there's progress being made if there isn't. If you're obviously rejecting all of his attempts, he's willing to accept that, although it might noticeably frustrate him a bit. Even if he starts to get upset about your ignoring his efforts, though, he's rational enough that he sort of reminds himself that, well, you do sort of have very good reason to be resentful of him, and when he thinks about it that way, he starts to feel guilty again, can't bring himself to be mad at you. He'll just keep up the hope that you'll start to change your sentiment towards him... eventually.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

While it's not entirely unheard of amongst obsessive individuals, it is still not really the norm to have quite the lack of "rose-tinted glasses" as he does. That being said, he's not overtly pessimistic either.

Most tend to fall into one of the two, making negative or positive assumptions and expectations. They'll either be the hopeful type convinced you will love them and not do anything bad towards them (be it deluded confidence or intentionally trying to keep their thoughts positive), or the pessimistic type to always assume the worst of you, constantly paranoid of how you might be actively working against them and trying to preemptively prevent it.

Alhaitham manages to fall into neither of these two. He has a fairly unique ability to look at virtually anything presented to him with objectivity, far more so of it than most.

He's actually quite level-headed, takes into account anything that happens between the two of you and analyzes what it means and how to work with the occurrence with a fairly non-biased point of view, not letting deluded hope nor paranoia nor bitter pessimism get in the way of his conclusions. It does take active effort -- if he weren't trying, he would be someone who falls into the pessimistic sort of mentality -- but he intentionally reminds himself not to let that mindset get the better of him. He's seen it before in others, and it's always rather irritating to watch people make unwise decisions out of said pessimism, so he uses that as a mental reminder and instead forces himself to be more objective.

Consequently, whenever engaging in any situation involving you, you find that he's surprisingly quite rational, and doesn't give into emotion. This is somewhat beneficial, as he's not going to be annoyingly negative nor overly paranoid to the point of making unfounded accusations or anything of the sort that some individuals with less mental fortitude might do. No walking on eggshells, no irrational insistence of your dishonesty.

Also, once again, there's the obvious roommate matter to be addressed.

At first, Kaveh initially suspected the whole incident was some sort of one-night drugging incident. Has fully prepared some antagonistic commentary on how if he's that desperate to get laid, he could at least try learning to have some semblance of charm before resorting to such unethical measures... but then, it sort of clicks, that locksmith that visited a few days back to install that deadbolt, Alhaitham's absent-mindedness as of late. He's already pretty much figured it out before it's even explained to him.

You actually do come to like Kaveh, over time. Even though his hands are sort of tied in terms of actually helping you, you can tell he feels bad about that and sympathizes with you, it really does bother him. He sort of becomes an advocate for you and your rights and needs, that you quite appreciate. Tells Alhaitham that he may be willing to keep quiet, but he cannot tolerate being complicit in the utter cruelty of locking you in a small space all day, of giving you nothing to do -- complete deprivation of stimulus is basically a form of psychological torture. You know, a very serious crime? Granted, it's not as if there's not already a serious crime going on...

It's because of his incessant bothering that you get provided reading materials, allowed to roam other rooms (it's cruelty to force you into such a tiny space), and are allowed to eventually have a window uncovered if you're well-behaved (people literally need sunlight exposure you know).

Not to mention if there's any arguing of any kind going on, both of you will automatically take the other's side, very commonly resulting in the very owner of the home being two-to-one outnumbered on any decisions (of course, he still usually has the final say anyway, but ganging on up him together and seeing him get so irritated is quite enjoyable).

The whole setup of things sort of goes largely unaddressed between the two of them, funnily enough. There's a lot of occasions of Alhaitham exiting the bedroom after you had made a great deal of noise, to come get something out of the kitchen or living room, making awkward eye contact... the two just sort of stare back and forth, Alhaitham's expression one of usual sternness with some obvious embarrassment and Kaveh's one of unamused exasperation, mouth pulled taut and eyes half-lidded as if to say really? Some silence passes, he walks away, neither one says a thing.

Sometimes, though, it makes for perfect material to use against the man, both in teasing, antagonizing, and blackmailing if necessary.

Any complaints about behavior, any criticisms, any subtle threats regarding missed payments or using his own funds. Now, Kaveh always has an immediate weakness to hit him with, and unfortunately it works every time. Especially with the rather harsh (although he knows it's true) choice of wording.

That's rich coming from the guy with the human slave!

Oh, now the kidnapper is preaching to me?

—if anyone were to find out about the LITERAL CAPTIVE—

He figured out pretty quickly that he's very sensitive to and gets easily guilt-tripped by blunt terms like slave and kidnapped and captive... largely because he knows it's true, and thus it gets under his skin. Plus, there's always that subtle threat of him going off and telling someone hanging over his head.

That being said, it's not entirely altruistic on Kaveh's part. All those ways he helps your quality of life, in turn, alleviates his own guilt. At least if he feels like he's helping you, making things better for you, he can somewhat ignore the reminder of his own complicity in the first place.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Somewhat of an odd mix of being not reserved and very reserved, depending on the specifics of the situation and context of conversations.

When it's purely talking about sex as a concept, the socially constructed and biologically primal nature of it, from a sort of academic standpoint, he has no trouble at all. If you asked a question, say why humans evolved to be largely attracted to this or that or how a certain bodily process works, he could easily explain in full without so much as a stutter, and so matter-of-factly blunt and shameless that it might actually make you feel a bit embarrassed with how openly he says certain things. When it's presented in that manner, it's easy to dissociate it from any application to his own self.

When it's personal, however, rather cutely, he can get significantly more embarrassed. Once again, it's contextual, situational. If it's telling you what to do, giving some sort of command or instruction to move like this, get in this position, or so on, he can do so without hesitation, more due to the absence of inhibition that comes with the heat of the moment and reduced blood flow to the brain. When addressing any activity between the two of you, in concept/abstract terms or especially referring to events in the recent past, that's when he'll sort of stiffen up when talking. Mumbles, gets quiet, seems unable to summon words or say anything, tries to exit the conversation.

He won't refuse to speak if the topic arises, but he addresses everything with such formality, even in casual conversation, it's rather amusing. Always uses the words intercourse or coitus just like be would in the academic sense, and never any terms one would normally use in casual conversation. He'll try to change the subject if it goes on for any extended duration of time, and will get annoyed if it becomes evident that you're intentionally trying to get him flustered for amusement, which you'll inevitably do quite a bit, seeing how funny his embarrassment is.

He's not very touchy at the beginning of things, and at first, it actually takes a while before he'll even sleep with you, in either sense of the word. He has a a natural craving for it, as many people do, but he's not really sure how to go about it. It's something he really warms up to over time, namely by sleeping next to you, which naturally increases his comfort levels. He always waits until after you're already asleep to avoid embarrassment before coming to bed, but then, you gravitate towards his warmth in your sleep. Having you touching like that, but not in a waking state where you could express any rejection, is comforting. It also helps condition him to your touch, get used to it enough that he's more at ease with physical touch with your waking self, too.

In terms of drive, it's highly dependent on circumstances and factors, namely stress. He's one of the sort of person who defaults to using orgasm as a means of stress relief, so if he's under a particularly high level of stress (which, of course, he does try to avoid, but sometimes work just piles up despite his efforts to avoid it), his drive will be significantly higher -- and the sex itself noticeably rougher, with more force and harshness in each movement that you can feel. Otherwise, his drive is fairly moderate for someone of his sex and age, roughly once a day or so.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Consciously, yes, he does care. Again, while not a stickler for the rules or anything (and perhaps a bit lazy on some matters), he's not the sort of person who would do something he sees as not only wrong, but one of the worst acts one can commit, and he's a generally ethical person with integrity who tries to do right by everyone when he can.

For all his general collectedness and respectfulness, though, he's certainly not immune to the ever-alluring power of hormones and his brain's hardwired urge to breed. Ignoring that gets difficult rather quickly.

In the initial days after bringing you home, he spends a great deal of time sort of mentally kicking himself for it -- what was he thinking? Of course you're going to be upset, this eliminates any possibility of you ever feeling positively towards him, it was a terrible idea, it will only end badly... while not outwardly expressed, those thoughts do eat away at him, leaving him depressed enough that it kills some of said urges for some time. Even then, for a while, he actually avoids it, as aforementioned, in part due to his discomfort and awkwardness around touch, and in part due to conscience.

At first, you were somewhat surprised -- you figured someone who would abduct and encaptivate someone most likely had a very obvious intention in mind, so you're somewhat surprised at the fact that he seems to sort of just... let you live there, not requiring anything of you nor doing anything to you. Those first days are awkward enough getting over the initial stages of shock and fear and anger and bargaining, especially as he's not very direct or clear on explaining the situation to you in the first place. He explains it to you as something along the lines of you being too naive and at risk so he felt he had to "protect" you or something, but it's the sort of very weak, half-hearted argument where not only can you tell he himself doesn't actually believe it and it just coming up with that excuse on the spot, but you also know he doesn't really expect you to believe it either, you're both mutually aware it's nonsense to get you to stop asking. If you're the type to be confrontational and bold in the initial reaction stages, though, rather than meek and afraid, and tell him to drop the act, he may very well sigh and say fine, admit that you're here because he wanted you to be and acted on impulse.

Still, when you get to questioning 'what happens now,' what your immediate and long-term future looks like, he essentially avoids the question entirely, and once again doesn't really try to hide that he's doing so. He might even outright say he's not inclined to give you an answer, or that it's a loaded question because you're obviously implying to ask when you'll be allowed to leave, and he has no intention of doing that.

So, for some time, he just sort of keeps you there, in a sort of limbo state where you're just existing in his home and being fed and being given things to do. He can't bring himself to do something that strikes him as so utterly abhorrent.

Then again. He knows a great deal about a wide variety of topics, and recalls information learned years ago: in addition to the fact that forced isolation can create attachment, it's been more or less proven that in primates, forcing physical intimacy can also induce involuntary pair-bonding... but still, it would be unethical.

Perhaps it would have been best if he hadn't recalled that information. Because thereafter, much like the initial intrusive thoughts that led him to take you away in the first place, it begins to creep into his mind, coming back into his head over and over. And also much like that initial time, the thoughts begin to wear away at his psyche.

The most likely scenario to end up happening is that you simply push him too far at the wrong time. You pick a day where he's already stressed, choose to be even more spiteful than usual. You push him just a little too far, you're just a little too mean, and sooner or later, something snaps, and he ends up doing something he regrets. Alternatively, if you're more meek and afraid, he might take the same method with which he brought you here to begin with, drugging you into unconsciousness. You won't hold a grudge or be traumatized and afraid of him if you don't remember anything, right...? Maybe he can convince you that you got drunk and agreed to it yourself, and then you'll change your mind and be okay with it... maybe.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Cockwarming

He can't really remember when exactly he got the idea. Probably when he was painstakingly going through a gruelingly boring set of reports, having to deal with the ever-intrusive I could be having sex right now I could be having sex right now I could be-- thoughts. Alas, if only there were a way to have both at the same time. At some point, those thoughts manifested into another thought -- why can't he? In fact, it seems perfectly doable.

It takes some form of persuasion for you, of course, but at the promise of some form of reward, you agree to come sit on his lap while he does work. You figure he must just want the physical contact, he seems like someone who wouldn't know how to really ask for affection, so this must just be an attempt to get you to show him some -- why are you pulling your cock out.

It was not what you agreed to, but the iron grip around your waist means you aren't going anywhere, and your protests are met with grumbling. Just let it happen. You're being so resistant for no reason. It'll feel good. Just relax. It's not like he's hurting you or anything.

And eventually, with enough of those excuses, you end up sitting there, heavily breathing, speared on his cock upright like food on a stick, all while he reads. Each little movement, each shift of position, rubs against your insides, sends little sparks of pleasure down your spine, almost torturous with how it just barely stimulates you, but not enough to relieve the arousal it creates. You can feel him twitch and shudder, too, each time your insides pulsate or clench. You can, likewise, torture him by intentionally clamping down hard... thus speeding up the inevitable -- because regardless, he's not going to actually get too much work done before he can't take it anymore, anyway.

Marking

The manner of which doesn't particularly matter, anything will do. It's discovered by accident, after unintentionally leaving behind a few bruises and scratches from digging his fingers into your hips a bit too hard. Afterward, he turns his head to look over where you lay, sees the crescent shapes where his fingernails dug in... and then within a short time, the flesh shows bruising too. That probably shouldn't be arousing... but it is, and he finds himself hard again just seeing it.

With time, he learns that it applies to much more than just that. Any sort of markings, visual indicators that have some indication of impact, possession, give him sort of a comforting but egotistical feeling. Often, this comes in the form of being something related to your flesh: scratches, hickeys, occasionally bite marks, and if you get him really sexually frustrated and deprived, or perhaps drunk enough to lose inhibition and be shameless, he might even take to writing on your body. But this can also be in the form of other sorts of visual indicators, namely with cum -- be it on your face, on your back, on your chest, or slowly oozing out of your holes and trailing down your thigh -- and, after going at it long and hard enough, the slight gape and twitching whenever he pulls out.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

If you were to ask the very basic question of whether or not he wants kids at some point, he would nod and say yes, but would hesitate before actually saying anything more, sort of needs a moment to find the right words. His eyebrows do furrow just a bit, as if slightly unnerved by the thought.

Well, if you really think about it, it is the biological hardwiring of most living beings to reproduce. Even if an individual personally didn't want children, most of them still have the innate urges to breed. For him though, it does seem like a nice idea. It's not something he's put a great deal of thought into, rather, it's one of those things that's very "someday" in his head, the sort of thing a young individual imagines they will get around to doing one day in the coming years, but doesn't really intend on anytime very soon.

He's not particularly cautious against it, though. It's not his fault it feels too good in the heat of the moment to remember to pull out... should an "accident" occur, he's not going to be upset or anything, but the issues it presents creates a panic that makes it difficult to be particularly joyful.

After all, how is this going to... work? He could handle educating a child himself, so school isn't necessary, but he can't bring himself to confine the kid to the house all the time. He already feels bad about doing it to you, there's no way he could handle the guilt of not letting his own kid go outside, he'll surely end up taking them out every now and then. But how will he explain suddenly having a kid to people around him? And what about the kid themselves? Sure, it will be naive and won't know any better for a while, but as it grows up, even if he asks them not to, surely one of these days it's going to tell someone about its mother that never leaves the house that no one knows about, and that will spell the end for him.

He doesn't voice any of that out loud, but you can see the worry quite obviously on his face and tone of voice when he talks about it, always stern and quiet. Almost seems to be in denial, trying not to think about it. He still takes very good care of you, seems very concerned for your well-being all throughout. There's a mix of contrasting emotions, because he is happy in a way, but the paranoia and fear is overwhelming. He's not great at expressing emotions like that, though, so he mostly just stays quiet. For now, he'll just have to brainstorm ways to deal with the issues that will arise, and then cross that bridge when he gets to it and hope for the best... not the most ideal course, but more or less the only option.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He's a bit stumped when it comes to how to handle any outbursts or deemed undesired behavior. Alhaitham is used to having some degree of guidelines when it comes to going about certain processes - usually, in almost any field of work or study, there are standard methods for dealing with problems.

When it comes to people, likewise, there are also set ways of handling conflicts and complications... well, that is, for institutions. On an individual scale, though, one-on-one personal interactions... there's not really any specific guidelines. Especially for someone you want to hold you in high regard.

So what happens is that he usually bites his tongue at first when you get bratty or mean, unsure of exactly how to handle it, thinking that maybe you'll be quiet after a moment... but then you keep going, which in turn makes him more irritated, and then he snaps and it just sort of... comes out. Nothing methodical or thought-through, instead, for once, letting his emotion override any reasoning. He's still rather composed as always, not bursting into a fit or anything like that, but a sort of cold anger, once in which you can tell the very moment he's finally had enough. He stops whatever he's doing, possibly slamming something down if he's holding an object, turns to you with narrowed eyes. Dead silent, but the expression on his face says enough. In fact, the fact that he's so initially quiet makes it that much more unnerving, makes you go silent and take a few steps back in and of itself, usually a quick change of tune as you start to apologize when he takes a few steps towards you, grabs you by the arm with force, and equally silent dragging you to a couch or bed or other surface of choice.

What ends up being his go-to choice of "punishment" is more an exertion of that irritation, holding you down, rutting into your body with painful force. It's more the painful details and humiliation factor that make it a punishment, that make it unpleasant -- it's always from behind, either pressing your face into the mattress, painful tugging on your scalp, or a hand choking your throat. It's only then that he actually speaks to you, sometimes through gritted teeth, often emphasizing certain words with particularly harsh thrusts as each one is said.

Yes, even without the roughness and soreness that comes after, the emotional degradation is what hurts the most -- perhaps it's the thought of being put into a state of such intimate vulnerability, or a sense of being violated and used as a punishment for your actions, or just the humiliation that comes with the not-so-subtle reminder of how easy it is for him to overpower you.

Either way, it backfires for him when you suddenly get quiet and cold towards him afterwards, often staying bundled up and shivering... admittedly, that does make him feel bad. In part, he still finds it justified, will sigh and say something to the effect of asking why you act the way you do if you can't handle consequences... but he's still weak to your sniffling and cold shoulder, and will take on a softer voice and more gentle hand to pat your head or rub your back in an attempt to obtain your forgiveness. If you act pitiful enough, he might even swallow his pride and give you a small apology.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Alhaitham is a thigh appreciator. No particular deeper psychological reason or anything, they're just nice to look at, nice to grab onto, make nice pillows to put his head on. Like with most other things of a sensual nature, he can get a bit embarrassed by his affinity for it, may absent-mindedly reach over and brush his hands over your thighs, just to realize what he's doing and jerk his hands back away and pretend it didn't happen... if you say it's alright and allow it, he'll still hesitate and turn away, implore you to pretend it didn't happen, but with enough coaxing from you, he can become comfortable enough to be more open about it, provided you really insist.

#.ah #alhthm getting group bullied in the comfort of his own home by the very residents he brought in on a daily basis

471 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 5 months

Note

A thought for you: imagine Dream being Robyn’s tutor.

Dream was hired when Robyn was 5 to teach him in all the things young nobility should know. He’s never really met the man who employs him, since Hob is often away doing his knightly duties or what have you. He mostly interacts with Eleanor when he has questions or concerns.

Robyn has the BIGGEST crush on Dream. The man is so pretty, even though he’s strict and forces Robyn to do school work instead of playing outside. Robyn constantly talks about Dream in his letters to his dad.

When Robyn is 10, Eleanor passes suddenly and Hob comes home. Robyn is an absolute mess, and Hob isn’t much better. Robyn, though, blames Hob for not being there for them and is always angry. He instead seeks solace in Dream, who is not at all emotionally aware enough to comfort a grieving child.

Dream does what any sensible person who is completely out of his depth would do and consults with Hob about things. They meet regularly to talk about how Robyn is doing. Hob does his best to stay strong for everyone, but he’s falling apart inside. He breaks down in front of Dream during one of their talks and all Dream can do is try their best.

After a few years have passed, things are doing much better. Hob and Robyn still miss Eleanor like crazy, but they’ve both moved on. Robyn has grown into a brilliant young man, and Hob couldn’t be more proud of him. Dream, who has essentially been co-parenting Robyn since he was young, feels much the same way.

Hob is pretty smitten with Dream after so many years, and the feeling is definitely mutual, but they’re both holding themselves back. They both have so many doubts about how the other feels, the societal pressures of their different classes, worries about Robyn, and the memory of Eleanor hanging over them.

Robyn has long since outgrown his childhood crush on his tutor (who is more of a father figure/family friend at this point), but he realizes one day that he isn’t the only Gadling that was completely taken by Dream. Cue Robyn doing his very best to get the two most important men in his life together.

After they’re together and Hob realizes just how involved Robyn was in the process, he gets to tease Robyn mercilessly about his old crush and Robyn gets to retaliate with all the embarrassing stuff Hob would write where he didn’t think anyone would find it. Dream is highly amused watching his two boys bicker.

(I started typing with only the ‘Robyn has a crush on Dream’ part in mind and it ballooned lol)

- 🎮 anon

Love this as a slowburn romance <3

I bet that teenage Robin spends sooo much time trying to distract Dream from teaching lessons by talking about Hob. And Dream is a strict teacher but dammit if he doesn't want to talk about Hob too!! When Robin starts talking about what Hob has been up to, how his favourite horse went lame and he spent the whole night in the stable taking care of it, Dream can't help letting him ramble on. Mainly because Dream is totally busy daydreaming about how wonderful and sweet Hob is.

When they finally, finally get together, Robin is so proud to take credit for some of it. He's kind of annoyed that now he's officially got two parents motherhenning him again, but secretly he loves knowing that Dream and his dad discuss his welfare. He secretly loves that whenever he brings home someone who he has a romantic attachment to, he knows that Hob will tease him and compare his newest crush to Dream.

He also knows that his mum would be so pleased and proud of all of them. Eleanor was very fond of Dream, and Robin bets that she's having a great time laughing at Hob and how absolutely head over heels he is.

Sucks that Dream still makes him do lessons, but... sometimes Hob comes in to their little classroom and distracts his beloved tutor for a while. Maybe it's his way of paying Robin back for his help in the successful romancing of Dream!

#🎮 anon #the sandman #dreamling

95 notes · View notes

wildandsmile · 7 months

Text

＊✿❀ Under the Fireworks ❀✿＊

Summary: You and your best friend had a routine of taking turns to accompany his grandmother, ensuring her safety. However, things began to change, and a significant turning point came one fateful night.

Tw: Death, Trauma (nothing crazy), Sad Memories

Wc: 3.6k

Kinks:Dom Itto, Sub Reader Bitting, Pet Name, Size difference, Chocking, Growling,Fingering, Exhibitionism,Breeding, Cream-pie, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v) and Rough sex

An: Happy Day 4 of Kinktober, sorry if the smut sucks on this one it’s like 1 in the morning my writ schedule sucks I know. I’ll probably re do this week until then.

Enjoy!

You and Itto had grown really tight over time, so much so that he even let you meet his gang and his sweet Grandma. It made you feel like you were part of something truly special. Itto had even opened up about how most folks didn't treat him well, and some even try threaten his dear Grandma, which you found utterly terrible. That's when you stepped in, offering to look after his Grandma while he and his gang set off on their exciting escapades. And he couldn't have been happier about your offer.

And that's how you found yourself right here, perched on Grandma Oni's front porch, patiently awaiting Itto's return. Grandma Oni was well aware of what the two of you were up to, taking turns to safeguard her, ensuring nothing would harm her. Naturally, she felt the need to ensure her beloved children were cared for, even though you reassured her it wasn't necessary. Without fail, she'd emerge with a platter of freshly sliced oranges and a steaming cup of tea. It was undeniably the most heartwarming gesture. After losing your own grandmother and seeing your grandfather fall into a deep despair, which only worsened with the Vision Hunt Decree, these moments felt like a comforting embrace.

Feeling like a child again brought a few tears to your eyes, but you didn't have much time to dwell on it. Grandma Oni stepped outside, this time carrying more than just her tea and oranges. She held a large red book, piquing your curiosity. As you wiped away your tears, you couldn't help but ask her about the book's contents. She looked at you with a warm smile and said, "It's a photo album."

You gazed at her in confusion, wondering why she had a photo album when she had no children or grandchildren. But she took a seat beside you and started flipping through the pages. To your surprise, it was filled with pictures of her and a young baby Itto. You couldn't help but chuckle at the adorable photos of baby Itto, watching him play in the dirt, take his first steps, and even hold a sword for the very first time.

The two of you continued to leap through the book, immersing yourselves in the memories captured in those photographs. You couldn't help but shed tears as you saw not only pictures of a young Grandma Oni but also snapshots of her with her late husband. It was bittersweet, and your mind drifted to fond memories of you and your own grandmother once again . You missed those times when you could visit her after a tough day, rest your head in her lap, and feel her gentle touch as she brushed your hair and cleaned your ears.

Reality jolted you back when a sharp pain gripped your arm. Blinking away your tears, you found Itto standing before you, his face a mix of hurt and anger, concern etched into his features.

Before you could utter a word, Itto began shouting so loudly that you feared your eardrums might burst. "Hannii, what's wrong? Did someone hurt you? Why are you crying? Who did this? I'll gut them like a fish!" His barrage of questions seemed never-ending, and you placed your hand on his forearm, causing him to release his grip. You glanced down, noticing the imprint of Itto's hand on your forearm.

After examining your arm, you looked back at Itto, his face still contorted with the same emotion. Letting out a long sigh, you reached up and gently placed your hand on his cheek, softly rubbing your thumb against his skin. He grasped your hand and sighed deeply, saying, "I'm sorry, Hannii. When I saw you crying, I panicked. I didn't know what to do. I thought someone might have hurt you or Grandma Oni. I just panicked." You nodded slowly, continuing to caress his cheeks. You had only seen Itto like this once before, back when a group of Treasure Hoarders had attacked you and Grandma.

You managed to fend off those Treasure Hoarders because they weren't Vision holders, but you did end up with a few nasty cuts and burns. That day, you swear Itto transformed into a different person. It was like his horns grew larger, his anger intensified, and his elemental energy surged. After a while, you could hardly recognize him. But once he regained his senses, he dashed off into the woods, apologizing for you having to witness that side of him.

Of course, you didn't mind at all. In fact, you found that form rather enticing, though you couldn't admit it. How could you tell your friend of almost four years that you had a crush on him? It's not like he occupied your thoughts every day or made you blush at his playful antics—absolutely not. You'd just bury those feelings deep down because there was no way someone like him could ever be interested in someone like you, right?

You didn't have much time to dwell on it because Grandma Oni stepped outside and insisted that both of you come in you swear you don’t remember her going back inside but you shake that thought away and head in. But not before she gave Itto a stern talking-to about his shouting, warning him that if he kept it up, he'd scare all the fish away from the Inazuma coast. It only made Itto laugh even harder, and Grandma Oni responded by playfully smacking him with one of her shoes, making him exclaim, "Hey, I wasn't ready for that, you know!"

With that, she walked off to the kitchen, likely to prepare dinner for everyone. You always offered to help, but she insisted on doing it herself, considering it her way of thanking both of you for watching over her all day. Her compliments never failed to brighten your day. However, this left you alone in the dining room with Itto, who, as usual, was playing with his Onikabuto beetles. He insisted they were more than just bugs, and though you didn't quite understand, you supported his passion nonetheless.

You noticed him stealing glances at you from across the table, but whenever you met his gaze, he quickly averted his eyes, making you raise an eyebrow. "I know you were looking at me, Itto. What's going on? It better not be another one of your silly pranks," you remarked, giving him a stern look.

He didn't say anything; instead, he pulled out a poster and handed it to you. The poster announced the Lights Festival tonight in the Chinju Forest, open to all ages. You glanced up at Itto, then back down at the paper, and back up at him. It suddenly dawned on you that he might be asking you on a date, or at least that's what you hoped. But you wanted to be certain, so you decided to clarify his intentions.

In a casual tone, you asked, "Are you asking me out on a date, Itto?" He didn't respond immediately, but you noticed the tips of his ears turn red as he slowly looked up at you and gave a quick nod. Before you could let your excitement take over, Grandma Oni entered with a large tray of food for everyone. As she set the food down, she couldn't help but comment, "About time this meathead asked you out." Her remark made you blush at the thought of actually going on a date with him.

And so, that's how you found yourself in the forest, dressed up nicely in one of Grandma Oni's old kimonos. It was a stunning bright red and orange, just like the colors of the fireworks you were about to see.

But something didn't feel right; Itto was nowhere to be found. He had asked you to wait, claiming he had something to attend to quickly, but it had been almost an hour. You started to worry that he might have stood you up, but then you remembered who you were on a date with. There was no way he'd do that. Maybe he got lost.

With that thought in mind, you began to wander through the forest, searching high and low for any sign of Itto. The more you looked, the emptier it seemed. Just as you were on the verge of giving up hope, you heard faint grunts and what sounded like your name being called in a hushed tone.

＊✿❀ Smut Time ❀✿＊

Following the voices brings you to a massive tree that appears to have been her long before you. But you didn't have time to take in its beauty before you heard your name again, and this time it should sound more like a moan than a groan.

Slowly making your way around the tree, you see nothing at first, but once you get to the other side of the tree, you see Itto, but he wasn't in the same form or state he was before, no now he was two times his normal size, and his teeth were so large that they turned into tusks. It was similar to when you saw him trying to defend you, but this time it appeared much worse, not to mention he was using his large calloused hands to slowly pump his cock.

You had no idea what to do as you stood there with your crush and what you believe to be his true form masterbationing to the concept of you. You wouldn't lie looking at him like this made you feel a little bit hot yourself but you didn't want to get caught by anyone so you turn around to walk away but while you were stepping back you stepped into a branch causing Itto to look up at you his eyes were bloodshot and his breath was so heavy you could see it clear turning to you he sees that it's you and begins walking towards you thought he was going to say something hell you thought he might even eat you.

To your astonishment, he pulls you into a deep kiss and screams into your ear, "I need you please," to which you reply by slowly kissing him back and murmuring, "Ok."With a seductive breath, your fingers entangled sensually in Itto's silky strands of hair. Itto, driven by want, carefully nibbles on your neck, sending waves of pleasure flowing through your sensitive skin.

You try to cover your mouth so that no one else outside can hear your moan, but immediately as your hand cups your mouth, it falls open. "Please don't hold back, that sweet voice," Itto says, his voice tinged with longing, definitely hungry. Itto looked intently into your lovely eyes, which sparkled with an enticing mix of desire and passion. "Look at you all flustered," Itto adds as his breath shortens and he starts kissing your neck like a piece of meat.

His enormous beast-like hands caressed your sensuous contours as his long nails teased and traced a path along the valley on your breast all the way down to your tight cunt. Itto seductively parted his lips and said, "You know, while I'm in this form, I can hear your heart racing right, and right now I can tell it's racing for me pretty badly" after that he let out a loud chuckle in his ture Oni form it made you feel safe like it was still him inside their even though it didn't look like it.

But you don't have long to consider it before Itto pushes his lips into yours. He cuts your lips with his teeth at first, but this only appears to rile him up more as the flavor of saliva and blood mixes into your mouths.

Itto then looks at you, your eyes locked together as your lips continue to fiercely collide with his, yet as he pulls away to allow your lungs the air they require, you can't help but feel a craving for his delicate yet rough touch. He must have felt the same way because his lips crushed into yours again not long after.

This time, the kiss was gentler and softer, as if it sent you to cloud nine. You were so engrossed in it that you didn't notice when he slid his buff head down to your legs and pushed them open, giving him an even greater view of your body."You're excited, aren't you?" Itto adds, growling into the kiss.

Itto begins to remove your kimono without hesitation while instructing you to remain still."Come one Hannii, stay still for me, I don't want to cut you with my claws," Itto said seductively as he carefully lifted the hem of your kimono. He'd finally gotten rid of all the bothersome garments, but now that he was looking at you through the moonlight, he could see how lovely you were. Everything about you was flawless.

"I can't believe you're all mine." Itto replies, his stare filled with list, as he begins to fondle your body, rubbing his enormous calloused hands along your smooth breast, gently playing with your stiff nipples. "You like this, don't you?" Itto asks as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and slowly begins to tease the other with his nail nips. You couldn't possibly respond. The most you could do was nod and mutter something incoherent. But, of course, Itto was so enthusiastic about pulling your words out of your mouth that he was already planning to turn you into a fucked up toy.

And the best part was that anyone could stroll through the forest right now and see the two of you, and what could they do? Nothing, of course, since Itto wouldn't allow anyone ruin his moment. Just suddenly, Itto snakes his hand to your laced underwear and neatly removes them, showing your puffed out clit. As the cool breeze brushes your skin, you begin to shiver.

Itto then plays with your swollen clit with the tip of his painted nail while messaging your moist folds with his other fingers. Finally, when he thought you were sufficiently wet, he shoved two of his fingers deep inside your cunt, wiggling them around before curling them and repeatedly smacking them exactly on your sweet spot. The sensation of his knuckles digging deep into your cunt caused your toes to curl and caused you to fling your bed back against the base of the tree as you began to see stars."

You soon gripped Itto's muscular shoulders and began to give out naughty groans as you arched your back and grunted for him to go deeper and add another finger. Your hips had moved forward into his. Itto could feel you clamping down on his hands, attempting to fuck yourself stupid outside in the open on his fingers, and he loved it, he loved you, and he was going to give you what you wanted. "You want me to fuck you silly, don't you Hani?" Itto says as he growls slowly into your neck. You attempted to ignore him and focus on your ograsm, but Itto wasn't having it.

Now you were writhing and humping the air, trying to create as much friction as possible, but Itto wasn't having any of it. He pinned your hip to the tree with just one of his hands and growled loudly into your ear, "I'll ask again do you me to fuck Hani" You try to turn your head so you don't have to face him; he knew you wanted him, and you knew he wanted him, but you didn't want to be the first to say it.

But just as you were attempting to think, he lands a hard smack to your ass, and the pain snaps you back to reality. Now his hands are around your throat, pinning your entire body to the tree, and you can't even turn your head. He looks at you like a feral animal in heat this time.

He even started licking your neck, but then he bites you rough and hard, causing you to let out a hard moan, and in that moment you felt your legs give out and your body become even hotter, but even in that moment you couldn't think about anything but how your clit was throbbing and how you could see Itto hard cock and how it was leaking per-cum.

He then stares you straight in the eyes and says. "You don't want me to fuck you, Hani" in that moment you snapped, it was as if something else fully took possession of you, but at that point you didn't care since the only thing you could care about was the feeling of being stuff.

So, like a hot babe, you look up at Itto and say, "Yes, Yes, I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me so hard that everyone in the forest can hear me." Itto then responds, "Well, if that's what you want, just don't be made when you can't walk to tomorrow Hani" With that, he aligns his thick cock with your tight entrances and carefully pushes the tip in, which is already making you see stars.

But just as you get used to him, he thrusts himself into you completely, causing a bump in your stomach that he places his hand on and says, "Feel that Hani, that's how deep I'm inside of you." This only made you blush slightly, but you weren't given any more time to think before Itto was slamming himself in and out of you at an animalistic pace. He seemed to be splitting you and two, but in a pleasant way that left you wanting more. You began to whine since you couldn't make a full sentence, so Itto felt it would be a good moment to ask you a stupid question.

"You love riding that cock don't you?" Itto asked, even though he already knew the answer, knowing he might quit if you didn't merely to tease you. "M'mm fu- M'mmm yeAh," you murmured as you rode his pounding cock, eagerly rocking up and down to his intense pace.

"So fuck good, so tight," Itto said sensually as he touched your supple derriere and tantalizingly slid his fingers over your silky thighs, drawing a passionate moan from Itto. The overwhelming pleasure drove Itto to instinctively clench around his beloved, intensifying their delicious bond. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you like being treated like a slut," Itto says, panting heavily.

You brushed his lips sensually against Kagirua's neck, inhaling the enticing aroma that rose from his skin. You launched a wave of pleasure that drowned out Itto's passionate shouts, but the muffled groans still reached your ears as he continued to ride him with furious need. "Mmm," his seductive moans send waves of pleasure through his body, sparking a longing symphony. As he masterfully administered solid yet delicious spanks to their enticingly curved ass, Yout sensually bit on Itto's neck, sending thrills down their spine.

"Yes! Spank me harder, don't stop till my ass is hurting with your handprint on it," you let out a passionate moan, reveling in the heady feeling that Itto delivered with each hit. He'd transformed into a seductive, subservient lover in an instant, eager for the delightful sting that turned his derriere a brilliant shade of loving purple. Itto sensually caressed him, enthralled by the sight of his attractive derrière swinging and gyrating on his pounding member."Holy Shi- yeah right," you murmured, thrusting your tongue out.

"You don't like that, haha I know you I can feel with the way you tighten on my cock" Itto sensually muttered before teasingly caressing your lovely derriere, delivering a succession of delicious spanks that left them both wanting more. You could feel the enticing sensation of his handprints appearing, but he couldn't resist the desire to keep going, constantly caressing his supple and beautiful derriere, all the while enjoying the symphony of his increasingly impassioned moans.

"C-Close!~" Your body ached with want as you placed your lips on Itto's beautiful neck with a passionate moan. He could help but barry inside deep into you as he poured all his cum deep inside you filling you up like there was no future and continuing to push into you so none of it leaked out. After that, you both fall to your knees, back against the tree, and Itto simply pulls you into a long hug before placing your Kimono on top of the two of you so you weren't both nude. You then glance at him and smile, and he does the same, but not as well as the two of you.

As you share one last kiss, the two of you start laughing. Before gently returning to Grandma Omi's, where she scolds you both for ruining her kimono. The three of us then sit outdoors and enjoy the rest of the fireworks.

96 notes · View notes

eris-snow · 11 months

Text

𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, bakugou x ochaco, angst

Your first love felt as warm as the sunshine, and as welcoming as a fireplace.

Bakugou was your first love.

As warm as the sunshine, and as welcoming as a fireplace, that's exactly what first love was like for you.

The wind picks up speed whenever you see him again, as if guiding you to him...or pulling him away.

Awkward silence engulfs the two of you when you see each other again. He has Ochaco now, and he has a familiar large, protective hand snug around her waist, right where it used to be around yours.

You wish Ochaco's meaner. Wish she was cruel, unkind or even taunting just so it'd be easier to hate her. She's the opposite though. Bubbly, beautiful, strong, all encapsulated in her being displayed like she was an angel from heaven.

You can see what Bakugou sees in her.

You remember the feeling of your heart breaking all too well when you see him dipping her into a kiss at their wedding. You wish you hadn't been invited.

You do your best to feign smiles to ensure the couple that you're over him, over them, but it reaches the breaking point when they start with speeches.

You're not over Bakugou, the wound is still so fresh, and it never really set in for you until you see that dazzling ring on his finger, an identical band around Ochako's on the same hand.

Perfect, smiley Ochako.

It feels a little chilly in here, don't you think?

"I don't deserve you, Ochaco," God, her name sounds so fond when it comes out of Bakugou's mouth. A gentle caress contrasts his gruff, raspy voice that makes everyone coo. "No one here knows what shit we've gone through, the war, the damn PRESS THAT WON'T LEAVE US ALONE!" He emphasises this by throwing a withering glare at the cameraman as if daring him to sell the photos to the internet.

Everyone laughs good-naturedly, and you're the only one that feels a sting to the heart at every sentence he utters. "I'm not good with words, but I mean what I fucking say. I love you, Ochaco," There's a pause, not an ounce of doubt and it's ripping you apart as everyone around 'awws!' at his bold declaration.

"I'm not gonna elaborate about how I'll catch every star in the universe for you, or whatever poetic Shakespear equivalent you're expecting. I love you. Those words, those three simple words? They prove my fucking point."

He just had to say it again.

Your heart is shattering with every word while you gather up the shards with gloveless hands. Each fragment cuts deep, and it feels like there's a messy trail of blood trickling behind as you hug the splintered memories close to your chest.

"Izuku," You whisper, catching his eyes with a pained gaze. "I can't do this anymore. Could you tell them that I'm sorry for leaving so early? I-I just...don't want to ruin their best night and-"

Izuku cuts you off with a tight embrace. "Go," The hero says, smiling gently in understanding. "I'll explain it to Kacchan."

You thank him profusely, saying that you'd do anything to make it up to him for the trouble but Izuku just waves you off, telling you to have a safe trip home.

You hastily grab your coat from the rack, finding a bench to take your high heels off and exchange them for comfortable sneakers.

"Leaving so soon?"

Your head snaps up so fast you thought you'd dislocate something, and your eyes meet red.

Bakugou.

Your guard flies up immediately, expression guarded. You're not faking happiness, simply a void of emotion, neutral and defeated.

It fucking hurts.

"Izuku told me," He said, raising an eyebrow. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, yes, maybe." You laugh at yourself. "It's been quite a night."

Bakugou never meant to hurt you, and never, ever to this extent. He sits down. "Congratulations." His eyes meet yours, and they're so fucking blank like it's your only way to stop yourself from crying. "Ochaco's a wonderful person. I couldn't think of anyone better suited for you."

Bakugou studies you carefully and watches out for a lie but never finds one. Oh, God, you mean it. Bakugou sees what you're doing. Your self-esteem has crashed into the negatives because you don't even believe you were even worth it.

Bakugou can't help but cave.

"L/n, you know that it wasn't you, right?" He insists. There's an arm's length between both of you like you're afraid he gets too close. "It was me, fuck, I wasn't ready for a relationship. Not when I wanted to be the number 1 hero-"

"I get that." You interrupt calmly. You don't smile, you don't frown, simply keep that dumb sangfroid mask on your face. You've always been too fucking respectful. "I know everything, that's why I need to go tonight. It's painful knowing."

Bakugou wishes you'd show him something. You used to be an open book, full of life whether it was large, overexaggerated reactions or the energetic person that'd always make time for him, but now you look...tired. Subdued, if you will, as if the life got sucked out of you. You're so tensed that it makes Bakugou's eyes furrow because, gosh you seem so quiet now.

Just a sign...a tear forming, eyes misting, a bottom lip quivering perhaps? Or maybe he'd get a hearty laugh and a smack to his shoulder for him being so concerned.

Any second now.

The blank look stays in your eyes. There's nothing.

"You were great out there." You continue, finally averting your gaze to slip off your shoes. "Ochaco's lucky to have someone like you. Your speech spoke volumes. I think she'd like those bentos you make for her on the daily. I remember seeing them on her desk when I got the same patrol shift as her-"

"L/n, listen, I-"

"Your skills really improved," You power through, tying your laces on the sneakers now. "You should keep doing them, you know?" your laugh sounds more like a wheeze, like there's glass stabbing your lungs. "Bet they tasted heavenly-"

"Y/n, stop-"

"Her face lights up every time she sees you, y'know?" You stand up, eyes staring up at the stars. "She loves it when you surprise her, I remember that one time-"

"Sunshine!" yells Bakugou.

Your eyes flicker back to his, finally pausing your rant. "That's playing dirty, Bakugou, I thought you'd never call me that again." You frown.

You're like a different person now, so rational and collected it throws him off. "I just..." He runs a hand down his face, and you look at him curiously, guard higher than ever. You fully expect him to do say something worse, and he hates it.

He was young and cruel back then, he should have handled the breaking-up process better, not just...tell you so out of the blue as if he simply wanted to tell you his hero schedule for the month.

"I'm sorry," Bakugou apologises, soft and genuine. You look as if he just grew another head. "I never got to...apologise. You didn't-you never deserved to be let down like that, I should have done it better. I should have done..." Bakugou's eyes drop down to his ring, shiny and beautiful, just like his life ahead. "a lot of things better."

You catch him staring, and shake your head. "You shouldn't dwell on things so far back in the past," You chide. "What's done is done. I forgive you."

Stop.

Show him something, anything. Bakugou knows, he knows you're breaking inside, knows you want to slap him, laugh at him...he doesn't know but just anything!

Instead, you make your way to the door. "I'll be going now," You bow towards him, the corners of your mouth upturning into a small smile. "Have a good night."

Bakugou's eyes trail to your face, but you've already turned your back onto him. His eyes fall on your shoes, the same, battered sneakers he'd gotten you close to a decade ago back when you were together.

"Good night," He whispers softly, staring at your back a little longer before closing the door.

Your high heels dangle on your fingers as you use another to wrap your hands around yourself, a bitter laugh escaping you as your tears overflow.

It's really cold out tonight, isn't it?

---

End notes:

I don't really know why, but I started to tear up while I was writing Y/n talking about bentos. I was really feeling this story, so I hope it came out well.

#mha #mha fanfiction #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x you #my hero academia #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #angst #bakugou angst

225 notes · View notes

wingdingery · 21 days

Note

ohhhh i always have requests! quite fond of lil drabble ideas: bruce teaching dick to dance and (years later when they’re together) they recreating some of their first dances, slade being the one to gift dick his first leather jacket that he still regularly wears, An Event Occurs and in the aftermath dick realizes how irreplaceable he is to bruce and just how much bruce both loves him and needs him, bruce and dick’s undercover aliases that keep getting more and more romantic over the years

In Dick’s experience, returning to his apartment after a week away and finding a mysterious box on the coffee table that was definitely not there when he left is, usually, not actually a big deal.

He’s still careful—the little Batman that lives in the back of his head would never give him a moment of peace if he wasn’t—but he’s just very aware of the fact that, nine times out of ten, the not-so-little Batman is the one breaking in and leaving little treats for him to find later, because Bruce is deathly allergic to seeing people’s reactions to his gifts in real-time.

Dick runs through the standard checks, but nothing sounds or smells off, and nothing pings as suspicious on infrared or the particulate detector. He steps closer to inspect the box. It’s rectangular, all white, and generally unremarkable except for the fact that he didn’t put it there.

Carefully, he lifts the lid. He’s expecting some kind of gear—it wouldn’t be the first time a new suit or toys showed up unannounced.

What he finds is a leather moto jacket.

He gently lifts it out of the box and stares at it, bemused. It’s very nice—genuine Italian leather by the feel of it, black with silver hardware and diagonal pockets in the shape of a V, and just his size. There’s no note of any kind, but when he sniffs the leather, he also gets a whiff of maple and gun oil—and that feels like a signature in and of itself.

Dick pulls out his phone, dials in the number from memory, and sinks into the couch as it rings.

“Happy birthday,” Slade says when he picks up, voice low and rumbling.

Dick suppresses a smile. “You’re late.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?”

Dick bites the inside of his cheek and fiddles with the zipper of the jacket. They’ve been getting along all right ever since they’d been forced to team up on the cruise ship from hell, but still, a little plausible deniability goes a long way, between them. “How long ‘til I find out on my own?”

“Now that depends,” Slade says, drawing out the words. “You still talking to Rose?”

Dick blinks. “You were visiting Rose?”

“Something like that.”

“She shut the door in your face,” Dick guesses.

Slade grunts. “We can meet not at her apartment.”

“And she’s moving?”

“And she’s moving.” Slade doesn’t sound particularly annoyed about it, but then again, finding people who don’t want to be found is basically his job. Dick makes a mental note to see if Rose wants a hand making her dad’s life harder.

“So why the jacket?” Dick says, running his hand over the leather. It really is nice. He wonders where Slade got it, and whether it was paid for in money or blood. He probably doesn’t want to know.

“You complained I made you ruin yours,” Slade says. “Reckon we’re square now.”

Dick raises his eyebrows, even though Slade can’t see it. “I don’t remember doing that, but if I did, it had to have been, what… seven years ago? At least?”

“I’ve got a long memory.” It sounds vaguely like a threat, in Slade’s voice, but the jacket itself seems far from one, so Dick lets it pass.

“If you’re trying to make up for that,” Dick says, “then you’re really late.”

“You’d’ve thrown it straight in the trash if I ever tried before.”

“I could still do that.”

“You won’t.”

“Well, now I have to.”

Slade scoffs. “Go ahead. Would be a waste of perfectly good leather, though.”

The desire for knowledge wins out. “Where’d you get it?”

“Made it.”

Dick pauses, uncertain he’d heard correctly. When Slade doesn’t elaborate, though, Dick echoes, uncertainly, “Made it?”

“Wintergreen helped some.”

Dick opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Made it?

“Who exactly did you think made my first few costumes?” Slade says, sounding amused. “Not all of us have your daddy’s resources.”

It’s one thing for Slade to have bought him something; Dick can explain that away as just a whim—an act of opportunity, as it were. But Slade spending the time and energy to make it himself?

That’s premeditation.

“This isn’t a birthday gift.”

“I said happy birthday, didn’t I?”

“This isn’t just a birthday gift,” Dick presses.

Slade doesn’t respond, and Dick lets the silence stretch far past the point of discomfort. Still, neither of them hangs up. Slade may be a stubborn asshole, but Dick has been trained in the art of silence-offs by the most frustratingly stoic of them all.

Dick smooths out the collar of the jacket and straightens out the arms while he waits. Now that he’s looking closer, he can tell the seams aren’t the tidy stitches of a lifelong craftsman, but it’s impressive work, all the same. Work that must have taken a hell of a lot of effort.

Finally, Slade breaks the rhythm of quiet breathing. “Whatever it is,” he says, “it’s yours now. Throw it in the trash if you want. Or don’t. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

It has everything to do with Slade, but the fact that Slade is insisting so hard that it doesn’t is both a little funny and extremely sad. Dick can recognize a fear of rejection when he hears it.

Dick puts a hand on top of the jacket. “It doesn’t really make sense to give me this,” he says, “if you’re never going to see me wear it.”

Slade is silent for a moment, but not as long as before. “I’ve got time,” he says, slowly, like he’s leaving space for Dick to cut him off between one word and the next. “Two weeks from now.”

“Two weeks,” Dick agrees. “I assume you don’t need the address.”

“Think I’ve got it.” Slade’s voice is dry, but lacking its usual knife-sharp edge. “See you soon, kid.”

He hangs up before Dick can respond.

Dick smiles anyway. “See you soon.”

----

Footnote: RIP Dick's expensive jacket (this is $300 in 80s money)

#sladick #prompt fics #had to stop fiddling with this and set it free since it was just meant to be the equivalent of a warmup sketch #my perfectionist instincts will be the end of me

49 notes · View notes

whathorselegs · 4 months

Text

When Kunikida realises he has feelings for Dazai he vehemently denies it. Not denial that he has the feelings themselves, but he simply refuses to indulge in them because it's inconvenient. Dazai's not an unattractive man and he has qualities Kunikida admires when he chooses to show them. So he understood how the feelings developed, but God, is he not what Kunikida was planning for.

Kunikida has a plan that he is determined to stick to. He has an ideal partner in mind, a set schedule for when he's going to meet them, date them, move in together, marry them, ect. Dazai does not fit into any of this.

So he ignores the feelings. Ignores the way his heart flutters whenever the other man is being his usual clingy self. The way he cant quite get angry at him anymore without a certain fondness creeping in. The moments where he realises he's stopped typing because he's been too busy watching Dazai and whatever shenanigans he's getting up to in the office. How distracting his laugh, hands, eyes and smile are.

He takes these feelings, boxes them up and waits for them to go away.

Problem is, they don't.

It only gets worse when Kunikida notices Dazai is flirting with him more and more as the days go on. And that he's getting bolder with his advances. Being pursued by chaos personified was certainly not in his plans. He shuts it down, ignores the flirting, rejecting Dazai in the most painless way he can, because Kunikida is still convinced Dazai isn't serious about any of it.

So Dazai switches from flirting to gifts. Though not they're not your typical idea of romantic tokens. It's bringing him snacks throughout the day, but he's already eaten half of it. It's a fancy "new" pen that he later finds out was swiped from Poe when he was visiting Ranpo. It's paperwork turned in on time, but there's so many mistakes and the writing is so unreadable that Kunikida almost wishes he'd just put the effort in and turned it in late. Its flowers with the roots still connected left on his desk that Dazai very clearly pulled up from garden somewhere.

All in all, Kunikida feels like he's been courted by a feral cat rather than a grown man.

Again he rejects Dazai. It's harder this time, as much as he hates it, the attention's working and Kunikida is slowly allowing himself to believe Dazai is serious about his feelings.

Eventually Dazai resorts to just asking Kunikida on a date. This time when Kunikida rejects him he instantly regrets it because of the earnest and quiet way Dazai just accepts it this time was almost too painful to witness. Kunikida goes home that night feeling awful, convinced he's ruined everything between them. He never expected Dazai to be hurt by any of this.

The next day, he almost didn't turn up to work, he spent a whole 2 minutes at his door debating on whether or not to leave. For the first time in- he didn't even know how long- he turned up to work late. He expected Dazai to not be there, but the whole office was empty.

Atsushi appears in the doorway of the meeting room. "Oh, thank God, he's really lost it this time Kunikida, you need to get in here."

For the next hour the entire Agency is subjected to a disheveled, running on too much caffeine, Dazai presenting them with a lengthy power point presentation of "All the reasons Kunikida should date me". They sat there staring at the walls, the table, the window, anywhere but the slow motion car wreck that was happening in front of them.

Well, everyone except Kunikida. Because, by his standards, this was the most romantic gesture anyone had made him.

If you ask Dazai how he and Kunikida got together, he will lie and lie and lie. Kunikida has the power point saved on a little black cat shaped memory stick and he'll show it you, proudly.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd kunikida #bsd dazai #kunikidazai #is that their ship name? I don't even know #my writing #Putting it under the cut because this one got long #and silly #Worst office romance in human history (affectionate)

51 notes · View notes

camels-pen · 6 months

Text

"Hey, Sanji."

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

Sanji paused to take a drag of his cigarette.

"Well, we sail with two gorgeous-"

"Sanji."

He sighed. "Yes, I have."

Usopp turned away from the night sky to rest his head on Sanji's shoulder, squinting at him.

"I have!"

Usopp squinted a little more before turning back to lay flat on the grass. "Tell me about them."

Sanji blew out a puff of smoke. "Why the hell should I?"

"C'mon just do it." At Sanji's stubborn silence, Usopp turned to him with a pout. "Pleeeeease?"

After a few more moments, Sanji scowled and blew smoke in Usopp's face. Usopp turned away to cough and rub his eyes.

The moment Usopp turned back to face him with complaints, Sanji said, "I haven't known him long, in the grand scheme of things." Usopp's brows rose high and he settled back against the grass. "He didn't seem like much at first. Just another passing face. It didn't take him long to impress me with his skills. I mean, that brain of his is incredible.

"And don't get me started on all his different types of weaponry. I'm still not totally sure how he manages all of that with random shit you can buy from any old merchant." Sanji sighed. "And he's absolutely gorgeous. Just the prettiest man I've ever seen-"

"Even more than Zoro?" Usopp asked quietly.

Sanji's nose wrinkled. "Disregarding the low bar you just set, yes. Prettier than the mossball by a landslide." A fond smile grew on his lips. "And he's brave. So so brave. He's afraid of so many things, but he never lets that stop him from helping his friends when they need him. He's amazing at what he does and he's-"

The words caught in his throat. Just as they always did.

"He's a king," Sanji finished lamely. "Of a really stupid island."

Usopp's mouth quirked up. "When did you have time to meet a king?" he asked, eyes glued to the sky.

Sanji shrugged, unwilling to name the place they just left. To avoid bad memories. To avoid being found out. "I know people in high places," he said, proceeding to bite his tongue the next moment. Different words, too close to more bad memories.

"Huh. Cool." Usopp's words were clipped. Neutral. It was odd hearing it from such an expressive person. " Did you-" his voice wobbled a moment before he cleared his throat. "Did you meet any other royalty?"

And though Sanji wasn't the resident storyteller, nor did he know why Usopp suddenly seemed so upset, he did his best to weave a tale of having to defeat a stupid grass covered dragon to save a beautiful princess locked in a tower.

When Usopp eventually headed back to the men's quarters though, he still couldn't help the nagging in the back of his head that he had forgotten something. Something very important.

"Oh, Usopp!" He paused midstep, but didn't turn back to Sanji. "I never asked, but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

Usopp stayed silent a long moment. Sanji had nearly chewed through his cigarette when he spoke.

"I did with Kaya- she's a girl from Syrup- and I get crushes here and there, y'know?" Usopp waved a bandaged hand and continued forward. "Ask me again some other time though, maybe I'll have a better answer for you."

Sanji watched him go, a heavy set to his heart. He muttered to the empty deck, "You're lying."

Two years later, the two of them found themselves spread out on Sunny's deck once more, admiring the night sky on their way to Dressrosa.

"You knew I was talking about Sogeking?!"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you knew he was me! I thought you just really liked superheroes! Like, a man's romance, y'know. Like how me and Luffy and Chopper get excited whenever Franky pulls out something new."

"You- I-" Sanji made a frustrated noise and took a deep drag. He inhaled long enough that Usopp was starting to get concerned, before finally, he blew out a big puff of smoke. "Okay, go on."

"There's not much else- I just thought Sogeking was a lot cooler than little old me and I never stood a chance against him."

"Usopp. You. Are. Sogeking."

"Yeah, but y'know. Y'know."

Sanji shook his head. "I really don't."

Usopp started to hum his old theme song. It was just as ridiculous as Sanji remembered it.

Just as it came to the end, Sanji whisper-shouted, "Lock-on!"

The two of them fell into hysterics, clutching their stomachs and trying desperately not to release the laughter bottled up in their throats. The kind that would echo across the ship and wake up most, if not all of their crewmates, and certainly their guest.

"You remember that?" Usopp said, wheezing.

"It's the only part I remember perfectly." Sanji said, hand on his mouth. "You used to scream it at the top of your lungs, of course I remember!"

"It was to build confidence!"

"It was because you got too into your performance!"

They giggled quietly, the built up laughter slowly fading away, until they were relaxed once more.

Sanji turned his head to stare at Usopp. Take the time to admire the way he'd changed and grown in their time apart. There were the physical changes of course- Sanji was a big fan of those- but also his boost in confidence. His surety of his place on the crew. With the crew.

And more than the changes, Sanji saw Usopp's carefree laughter, his passionate storytelling, his terrified shrieks, his quiet tinkering, his annoying pranks-

God, Sanji missed him- loved him- so much.

And then a thought came to him.

"Hey Usopp."

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever fallen in love?"

Usopp smiled, squeezing their interlocked fingers.

"Yes," he said, bringing up their hands to kiss the ring on Sanji's finger. "I have."

#one piece #sanuso #nemo the writing ho #i was going to work in something about mr. prince but perhaps another time #maybe another fic where Usopp's teasing him about it n makes a joke that hits too close to the truth #and also Sanji is terrible at lying. or at least to Usopp. so Usopp's immediately like. 'wait mr. prince ISNT a fake identity???' lmao #i should probably clean this up and put it on ao3. the vampire drabble too #at some point

114 notes · View notes

pjoxreader · 1 year

Note

*awkwardly waves* H- Hello! Sorry if it's out of the blue but may I request two one-shots or hcs? The first one is Leo Valdez x daughter (or child if you only do gender-neutral) of Aphrodite!reader where Leo develops a crush on said reader. The second is Leo Valdez x modern!reader x Percy Jackson-- I know this sounds weird and you can change it if you are not comfortable but I'd like to see a love triangle between them ((the reason for the modern!reader (as if from our world etc.) is because I haven't seen any of those 😅))

That's all for now, sorry if it's too long. I hope you have a great day/night!

Daughter of Aphrodite x Leo

((I forgot to only put one request at a time to keep things neat in my rules but that was my fault so I went ahead and did both for you! I hope you enjoy! 😅))

Leo Valdez

-You two started out as just friends, of course Leo would playfully flirt now and again but that’s just who he was. He loved to make people smile and you’d light up a room with yours. Anytime you’d laugh at one of his dumb flirting attempts he’d get the dorkiest grin.

-”Are you Medusa? Because I’d turn to stone so I could spend eternity staring at your beauty.” He had never been more proud of himself as he saw you blush and giggle. Even though both Percy and Annabeth gave each other a grimace as if remembering a bad memory. Leo thought it was a good one though!

-Leo knew you were wayyy out of his league. He tried to ignore his feelings but at this point he couldn’t. Anytime he tried to focus on something his mind would wander back to you. Just simple things like ‘Ah she’d love this new machine!’ or ‘She’d be really mad if she knew I was up this late…’ But those thoughts plagued his every waking moment.

- “I just can’t get her out of my mind!” Leo complains to one of his siblings Jake Manson who gives him a sympathetic pat on the back. “It’d just… Never work out though… I’m… I’m a son of Hephaestus and she’s well… A daughter of Aphrodite. It’s like a nerd trying to get with a popular girl.” Leo complains, waving his hand as he explains this.

-Jake raises a brow with that, opening his mouth but seems to remember something before he speaks. “Ah that’s right… You never got the chance to meet Charles…” he hums softly and digs through his pocket showing Leo a picture of Charles and Silena, Silena was kissing his cheek while Charles was as red as a tomato. “Charles was the counselor before I was, and Silena was a daughter of Aphrodite. It shouldn’t have worked but… They made it work. They were the best couple in the whole camp.” There was sadness in Jake’s voice but he looked at the picture with fondness and melancholy.

-Leo felt a bit guilty but seeing the two people smiling in the picture he couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to do it. Leo had fought monsters, faced the world ending, and he was still too scared to try and ask you out… Maybe he really was helpless…

Leo Valdez x Modern!Reader x Percy Jackson

-They really didn’t get along well, Leo and Percy were like two sides of the same coin. Leo used his brains and mechanical skills to work through problems. He was head of the mechanics team after all! And Percy? Percy was captain of the swim team, strong, toned and downright eye candy. Not to mention he wasn’t afraid to get into a fight.

-You really weren’t sure how you managed to get stuck in this. You thought you were pretty good at sticking to yourself and minding your own business. Well, guess that was wrong. The two would constantly be fighting and arguing around you.

-It started off with small things, just arguments you didn’t bother to stick around for, but then it started to escalate. Percy would go into the mechanic club room soaking wet with his team getting the room soaked. And for revenge? Leo set off a glitter bomb in the pool that took two weeks to clean up. -You couldn’t stand it anymore! You call both boys out to the school roof, arms crossed angrily. “I’ve had just about enough of you both!” you yell angrily. They both look sheepish as they knew they had taken it too far if you were that mad at them.

-”Can’t you guys just like… Kiss or get together or… Something! Stop dragging me into your weird flirting!” you complain. The both pause slowly, turning to each other at the same time in shock. They stare at each other for a bit before they both burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing they ever heard.

-You’re left standing there utterly confused as they laugh loudly, Leo even rubbing a tear from his eye as Percy slaps his leg from laughing too hard. “We like *you*! We were fighting over *you*! We weren’t flirting with each other!” Leo explains the gears slowly turn in your head as it finally clicks and you feel the heat rising in your face making the boys burst out laughing again. “I thought I was dense!” Percy complains between laughter fits.

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

#pjo #hoo #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #percy jackson #leo valdez x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x reader x Leo valdez #pjo fluff #fluff #pjo x reader fluff

211 notes · View notes

myfictionaldreams · 2 years

Note

Eddiexreader request: Hellfire is short a member so Dustin and the boys beg their old babysitter who taught them DND to come play and because they know Eddie has a crush on her and wants to introduce them. Eddie is a nervous wreck.

DUNGEON MASTER MEETS HIS MISTRESS // Eddie Munson x fem!reader

A/N: thank you so much for sending this request! I hope you enjoy! Also side note, I don’t know how to play DnD so please excuse if I’ve got any of the information wrong

Tags: 18+ readers only, sfw, fluff, idiots in love, awkward flirting, friends to lovers (kinda), eddie being cute and nervous, pet names

Word: 3.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“What do you little squirts want?” you asked, casually leaning against the doorframe to your parent’s home. Before you, stood Dustin, Lucus and Mike, all of whom were staring unnervingly at you with wide hopeful eyes, shifting their weights awkwardly from one foot to another as none of them spoke whatever it was that they desperately wanted to say. Lifting your hand, you waved quickly to Mrs Wheeler who was patiently sitting in her car in the driveway, waiting for the three boys to do whatever they had come here to do.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you tried again, “you’re all a little old for me to babysit you guys so, what is it that you want? I like the matching shirts by the way”, you continued, admiring their shirts that read “Hellfire Club”, not that you had any idea as to what this was.

It was Dustin who finally plucked up the courage to take one small step forward, clearing his throat as he looked you in the eye, “honourary lady, we are here to offer you a prestigious invitation to the most established club in all of Hawkins”.

A laugh bubbled in your throat at how dramatic your invitation was, Dustin always did like to be theatrical. Looking between each of the boys, you thought back to when they were just kids, babysitting them every Friday and now here they were, nearly adults. Glancing down at their shirts again, you responded, “let me guess, is it this Hellfire Club?”, they too glanced down at their shirts, but now it was Lucus to step forward.

“We need you, we all need you, we’re desperate”, he pleaded and even though they had convinced you before they’d even asked anything, you still played along looking uncertain.

Next, Mike stepped forward, looking towards Lucus and Dustin, “guys you’re losing her, enough with the theatrics, here’s the thing,” he turned fully to you now. “Yes we are in a group called the Hellfire Club, we hang out every Thursday to play DnD but we’re short of one player for our campaign and we all thought, who better than the person who taught us the game in the first place!”

The corner of your lips twitched up at the fond memories of the five of you - Will would also be there - playing dungeons and dragons in Mike’s basement and how excited they all were when you all finished the first campaign. You’d spent hours upon hours with them explaining all of the rules, creating characters and stories that allowed the imagination to run free.

Looking between each of them, they tried to do their very best ‘puppy dog eyes’ that they could muster. It was Dustin who spoke one final time, asking, “So what do you say? Will you please join the Hellfire Club?”

A big grin spread across your face as you finally relented, “of course, I will dorks, it’s not like I’ve got much else going on at the moment”. Stepping out of the house, swinging the door closed behind yourself, you followed the three cheering boys down the path and into Mrs Wheeler's car.

Walking through the corridors of Hawkins high school was bizarre, to say the least, especially as you’d graduated two years before, you never thought that you would have returned here but the boys quickly explained this is where the club was being held due to the space that they needed and Mrs Wheeler didn’t want the kids screaming in the basement anymore.

“So, who’s in Hellfire club anyway?” you inquired, looking at the three boys who had been acting rather suspiciously since you’d said yes, sharing secret smiles to one another that they thought you wouldn’t have noticed.

Lucus was the one walking next to you and answered your question, counting on his fingers as he went, “well there’s me, Mike, Dustin and Erica who is already there, and also, Jeff, Gareth and..”. This was when they all looked at one another with the secret smile plastered on their faces again, they were definitely hiding something.

“And… who else is in the Hellfire club?”

“Uhh… Eddie Munson”.

Your feet stopped all movement, your heart pounding in your chest at that name. You hadn’t seen Eddie in nearly two years, having been in the same school year as him until he failed and had to resit the year whilst you graduated, if you knew Eddie was going to be here you might have dressed a little nicer, not that this would necessarily matter, it’s not like you ever spoke to him during your time at school anyway.

“Ok… Eddie, I know Eddie… why did you hesitate to say his name, Lucus?” you questioned, looking suspiciously at the boy who was still smirking at his friends.

For a brief second, you thought maybe they had discovered who your high school crush was but it was Mike who suddenly blurted out, “because he has a crush on you!” Lucus and Dustin both smacked Mike in the arm, shouting that he wasn’t supposed to say and that Eddie was going to kill him. “He’s going to freak out either way, what’s the harm” he reasoned, trying to bat away the hands that were still hitting him.

You were thankful that they were all so distracted with telling off Mike that they hadn’t noticed your widen gaze or the fact your knees wobbled slightly at this revelation. There was no way Eddie freaking Munson had a crush on you, absolutely no chance in hell, the boys had to be pranking you or something. “You boys are fucking with me aren’t you, ha ha very funny”.

“What no? Why would we lie about this, he talks about you all the time.” Now you definitely know they’re lying to you, it had been so long since you had even seen him, there was no way he remembered you, let alone enough to talk about you constantly. Rolling your eyes you walked past them, continuing down the corridor until you reached the drama room, pushing heavily against the double doors and walking in.

You’d become so distracted by the fact that the kids had been messing with you, that you hadn’t had time to fully process the fact that you’d be actually in a room with Eddie, as you stood unblinking, staring at him from where he sat in his throne at the head of the table in the centre of the room. He’d changed in the last few years and it looked for the better, not that this helped your bubbling stomach, his hair had grown out and from what you could see on his arm, he’d also got a few tattoos.

You had to remind yourself to take a few deep breaths as the three boys brushed past you to enter further into the room. Maybe it was the gleam of the lights but you swore Eddie’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second as you entered.

Dustin approached the table first, arms wide as he spoke, “you asked for a sub, here’s the best that Hawkins has to offer”, he then pointed to you, and all eyes shifted in your direction as you finally mustered up the courage to walk towards the table.

“Thanks for letting me join your little club” you politely said to the group, eyes nervously flicking from Eddie to the floor and back to Eddie. It wasn’t often that you found yourself nervous, it was embarrassing for the kids to see you like this, so you took another deep breath, rolled your shoulders back and held your head high, looking at the other members of the club before finally resting on Eddie, determined not to flinch away but instead take in every detail of the man, from his silver rings to the deep brown eyes that had you captive for so many years during high school.

Eddie currently was resting his finger against his lips, looking as if he was bored, not even a smile on his lips as he announced, “Welcome to Hellfire.”

As you moved to take your seat, the boys quickly rushed to the other remaining three, conveniently only leaving the seat available that was next to Eddie. Trying not to roll your eyes or collapse at being so close to Eddie you could smell his cheap aftershave and a hint of weed from him, you sat down in the chair.

It was Erica who spoke next however, “wait that's it? Welcome? You gave me loads of shit when I joined, why doesn’t she get the same?”

Eddie only lazily waved his hand at Erica as if dismissing her, “someone quieten the child”. The other boys laughed as Lucus tried to calm Erica down as she looked ready to rip off Eddie’s head.

Glancing back at the man, you tried to take in more details without looking like you were staring at him, did he always used to be so fidgety? His hands were now in his lap as he played with the rings on his fingers, something you were subconsciously doing in your own lap but that was because you were nervous to be in the same room as him.

“So you’re the dungeon master? Not sure how I feel about that, but I guess we’ll see” you observed, trying to ignore the slight wobble in your voice or the way your throat suddenly became tight at seeing the corner of Eddie’s lips turn up for only a second.

It was Dustin who spoke again as he informed the group, “she used to be our dungeon master, or mistress as she liked to be called, taught us everything we know about DnD”. Pride filled your chest at the smile spread across Dustin’s face at the fond memories.

Eddie shifted closer in his seat, his wavy hair covering part of his face as he questioned, “you taught them? You’re the dungeon mistress that they always talk about? Y’know, I never would have guessed that you would be into this kinda thing, Sparkles”.

That nickname… you hadn’t heard it in years, it was what everyone called you during your last few years at school because during a science experiment, instead of having your model of a volcano erupt like everyone else, you’d used a sparkler for the lava and henceforth, you were known as Sparkles. “I haven’t heard that nickname in years and, I guess it’s nice that they all think so highly of me”. Again, you noticed Eddie’s mouth twitch up into a smile before his face returned to neutral, leaning back in his chair nonchalant. “Well come on then, let’s see how good you are at being the dungeon master than Mr Munson.”

It took all of your guts to try and hold his stare, slightly raising your eyebrow in a slight challenge as your knee accidentally brushed against his under the table to show you were only joking. From the corner of your eye, you could see the other players glance at one another, smiling mischievously.

Unknown to you, they had actually all been planning this all week and it all started with the missing player, Daniel. He had been acting progressively ill throughout the week until Eddie had demanded that he go home so as to not spread the illness to anyone else, thus, giving the boys the perfect excuse to bring you in.

Even though Eddie was a private guy, the only thing that he would discuss outside of Hellfire club, was a certain maiden that had captured his heart. At first, no one thought anything of it, thinking it was a fictional character or someone in one of his bands but the more he spoke about her, the more details he let slip. For instance, she worked in a building surrounded by books, which coincidently, the library was where you worked five days a week and eventually everyone put two and two together and they HAD to set the two of you up.

Everyone around the table except you could tell that Eddie was nervous, he had never stumbled on his words and now here he was, fumbling to finish his sentence but as the campaign continued, he seemed to relax more, getting into his role well and before long, you were relaxing and getting into it too.

The hours passed by in a flash, you hadn’t had this much fun in months, you really missed being able to play these sorts of games. Through all the shouting, gasps and cheers, you kept catching Eddie’s eyes, noticing that he settled on you for more time than he did others but it was probably just your mind overthinking again.

Before long, Mrs Wheeler had arrived to pick up the kids, walking them to the double doors of the theatre, Mike turned and asked if you wanted a lift home too. Turning back towards the table that everyone had been sitting at, you watched Eddie packing up by himself, Jeff and Gareth having already left, “No it’s ok, I’m going to help Eddie tidy up, I’ll get myself home, thanks though and thanks for inviting me squirts, it’s been fun hanging with you all again”.

You waved them all off, and as they turned away, you couldn’t spot the shit-eating grin spread across their faces. Walking back into the room, you quietly started helping Eddie stack the chairs along the wall, neither of you saying anything except glancing at one another when the other wasn’t looking.

Once Eddie had finished stuffing his bag with all of the DnD memorabilia, you moved to pick up the table, planning to place it against the wall with the others but Eddie was soon rushing forward, “oh no no no, I’ve got that, put it down”. Huffing a laugh you did as instructed, “thanks” you mumbled as he effortlessly picked up the table, your eyes once again glancing over his form, specifically how you could see the muscles in his back moving beneath his shirt.

Shaking your head you looked away, “you were a really good dungeon master, by the way, the way you told the story had me captivated”.

Eddie placed the table down, turning towards you sharply, biting his lower lip before responding, “oh uh thanks, yeah it’s just nice to be able to play with people that are older than 12”, you laughed, eyes gleaming as you saw Eddie grin at the sound of your laugh. “So how long has it actually been since I last saw you then, what, two years?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest and it took all of your internal strength not to stare at his arms.

Unbeknown to you, Eddie was lying, it hadn’t actually been two years since he last saw you, in fact, it was only yesterday. Not that he would ever admit it but he passed the library every day on the way home from school and could spot you in the windows, stacking books away on the shelves. He wasn’t trying to be creepy, he just wanted to check in on his maiden you without having to talk.

“Yeah, two years. I would say you’ve changed but I think it’s only the length of your hair” you responded, smiling lightly at him as he picked up his bag, both of you walking to the doors which he promptly held open for you. Your cheeks started to warm as you two walked down the corridor together, his arm was so very close to brushing against yours but neither of you had the courage to move it half an inch towards the other.

“Y’know Sparkles, I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not”.

“It’s definitely a good thing, I always liked you, even if we didn’t speak”, your cheeks were on fire now, what is going on with you, the second you’re alone with him you become a blubbering idiot, get yourself together, you thought as he once again held the doors open for you at the end of the corridor, both of you leaving the building.

“Oh yeah? Why didn’t we ever talk anyway, if I knew you were playing DnD with the others, I would have been pestering you for years now” you once again laughed at his words, wishing that he had in fact been pestering you for years.

“It’s probably because you never turned up to school Eddie”, you were too busy looking at your own shoes to notice the way Eddie’s eyes glazed over when you said his name, shaking his head, his long hair lightly drifting in the wind, he tried to continue.

“You’ve got a good point there, Sweetheart, and yet here I am, still suffering in this hell hole” he pointed to the school behind him, now it was your turn to try and not collapse at the mere use of a name, you could get used to him calling you sweetheart.

You were glad the others had left, you didn’t think you could stomach the thought of them seeing you and Eddie Munson, smiling like idiots, cheeks warm to the touch, hearts pounding in your chests, enough to make you feel slightly sick.

The sound of a car door slamming seemed to snap you both out of whatever trance you seemed to be in, Eddie laughed under his breath as he pulled on his jacket.

“I should be getting back, it’s quite late, I’ll definitely see you around though Eddie” you begin to turn away, preparing to start walking home.

“Wait, you’re walking? Sweetheart, I’m not letting you walk home this late, come on I’ll give you a ride”.

“Oh no it’s ok, I don’t want to put you out of your way” you replied, feeling bad as you knew his trailer was in the opposite direction to your place.

Eddie gave you a deadpan look, “come on dungeon mistress, my mighty stead awaits”, he bowed dramatically, holding out his arm in the direction of his van. You thanked him after laughing lightly, walking past him towards his van, missing the way Eddie released a heavy nervous breath before jogging to catch up, once again holding open the door for you to climb in.

Once he was settled into the driver's seat, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, his metal music playing quietly in the background. It took all of your power to not roll your eyes at the overwhelming smell that was purely of him coming from the van, all you wanted to do was move closer to him.

“So do I”, “How do”, the two of you started speaking at the same time, causing you both to chuckle lightly. “You go first,” he politely said.

Turning to him slightly in your seat, you continued, “I was going to ask, do I get one of your amazing Hellfire shirts now I’ve joined for one session? Or are they exclusive shirts for full-time members?”

He smiled over at you, his brown eyes bright, “well usually they’re only for full-time members but seeing as you’re an honourary member today, I’m sure I can sort one out for you”.

“Thanks, Eddie,” it felt like there were butterflies flying in your stomach as you pulled your sleeves over your hands to hide them from shaking, no-one had ever made you feel like this, a nervous wreck whilst smiling like a love-sick puppy. “Oh, it’s just the one here with the red door” you pointed out, not even realising that he’d turned onto your street.

He pulled the van to a stop, turning to you in his seat, “let me get that” he mumbled and before you could react he was leaning across you, pulling on the door handle and giving it a shove to open. All the whilst your mind was completely blank as his hair brushed against your cheek, “there you go, Sweetheart”.

“Thanks, I’ve uh- I’ve really enjoyed tonight, if you’re ever missing a member again, you know where I am”. Climbing out of the car, you gave him one more smile before closing the door, turning to walk towards your front door. As you were unlocking your front door, you heard the door to Eddies van open and him running around the front of his van.

“Wait- hang on” you turned to him, wondering what was wrong but what you weren’t expecting was to see Eddie freaking Munson, running towards you, his bare chest on show, displaying the few tattoos that he’d accumulated, his leather jacket haphazardly thrown on and his shirt waving in his hand. “Here, have this, I’ve got a spare one at home”.

Your mouth hung open, staring from his shirt to his handsome face, he seemed to suddenly regret his actions as he awkwardly shuffled his weight on his feet, “if you give it a wash it’ll be like new, I just thought that-”.

You rushed forward before he could mumble anymore, taking the shirt from him and holding it to your chest, “thank you! Now I’m finally a part of the Hellfire Club!” you shouted sarcastically, laughing with Eddie as he released a long nervous breath, “I appreciate it”.

He nodded once, giving you one last smile before turning back to his van, walking down the path and what you weren’t aware of was that he could still see you in the reflection of his van, watching as you lifted the shirt to your nose, breathing in Eddie’s beautiful smell and smiling brightly. Eddie had to use all of his willpower not to turn around and go back to you but he kept walking, climbing into his van with ease, rolling down the window to shout, “I’ll see you around Sparkles”, grinning widely before speeding off, his tires screeching as he went.

You all but collapsed against your door, breaths coming in quick pants, smiling to yourself. Today had been a good day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #request #mine*#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things oneshot

840 notes · View notes

bittersweetarts · 2 years

Text

Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 3)

Aemond Targaryen x You – Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

Word count: 4307 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Angst, misogynistic behaviour (quite sexist), dubious consent

Spotify Playlist – AO3 Page

Chapter 3: Dead of Night

Distracting yourself was easier than you expected, and this recognition made you feel sick. Though it was easier, it was not easy. Days have passed since Jayse’s brutal mauling, and the memories of that evening were too painful to remember. So, you tried your best to distract yourself, to numb your emotions.

During daytime, it was easier. You kept yourself busy with your duties, taking care of the Targaryen children, and you constantly offered to take on more. You found yourself taking over the Kitchens in a way, instructing the cooks which meals prepare. You also started accompanying the Queens everywhere, Queen Alicent in particular, by keeping her company during political engagements, as the cup bearer. Previously, this type of work did not interest you, nor were you needed. But now, you volunteered to do every possible task available. Prince Anything to derail your stream of consciousness. Prince Daeron whined about how busy you had become, and the children started clinging on to you more when you said goodbye.

At night, however, distracting yourself was difficult. Reading had become impossible, for you could not read a single paragraph without your mind wandering. You tried writing to your parents and your siblings, but what could you tell them? That you are in treacherous territory, and that you do not know if you will ever see them again? Though you loved each, or at least most of your siblings, you were still the invisible middle child, and they would not care even if you had asked for help. If one person in your family was forced to be sacrificed, you knew that you would not only be the chosen one, but also offered on a silver platter.

You tried other hobbies to pass time, such as embroidering, but instead found yourself tempted to stab the sharp needles into your brain. You considered drawing, poetry writing, even playing the flute you have not touched in years, but all of these options made the notion of self-slaughter appealing.

And so, you learned to sedate yourself.

You were never very fond of alcohol and only consumed it socially. But now, you found yourself drinking honey wine at night, until you felt drowsy. Your daily tasks now also included smuggling in a pitcher of the golden drink into your quarters, before nightfall, as now, you felt terrified of leaving your room after the sun had set. The wine did not make you forget per se, because sometimes, the thoughts still crept in. But the wine did help you sleep, as with it, you found that your dreams were empty, and conveniently, you also woke up too exhausted to think properly.

What helped most of all though, was that the cruel Prince Aemond was nowhere to be seen by you. The last time you saw the Prince was that awful evening, thankfully.

Normally, you do not particularly care about the day-to-day political affairs of the Royal Family and the Kingdom. Actually, care is not the correct term. You do care, but you know that politics is a dangerous place for women, as evident by the downfall of the late Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. A woman with a vocal opinion on current affairs beyond the privacy of her home, if even then, is threatening, and you had learned to care for subjects like history instead. Not as threatening, and just as important, in your opinion.

But having spent so much time serving Queen Alicent recently, you have passively been involved with politics, by consequence of attending countless of her meetings as cup bearer. It was here you learned that the Prince was not avoiding you out of curtesy, but rather out of necessity, at least for the security of the Kingdom.

Folk talk had spread throughout the land, as is unsurprising given that civil unrest can never truly be quashed. Word had spread that the outlawed Poor Fellows, a smallfolk army, has slowly been rebuilding itself, in protest of King Aegon II. The source of this uprise is a man from The Reach, claiming to be the Shepherd Reborn.

During the civil war, the Shepherd was a ‘prophet’ wildly followed by small folk and had preached against the late Princess Rhaenyra’s claim to the Iron Throne, which only served to benefit Aegon’s sovereignty. The Shepherd died during the war, and with him, his small but strong movement.

While this type of smallfolk army does not seem worrying, the new Shepherd has called for the overthrowing of King Aegon II, citing that the Doctrine of Exceptionalism was a political ploy devised by the Targaryens to deceive the pious, further claiming that corruption has plagued the leadership of the Faith for generations now.

The Doctrine of Exceptionalism’s basic tenet allows for the incestuous marriages by House Targaryen to be religiously accepted, with the understanding that Targaryens were different from the men born in the Andalos of old, unlike the rest of us. Word of mouth has spread that the Poor Fellows new stationary location is in the Northern part of the Reach, around the Stoney Sept. Honestly, though admitting it aloud would be treasonous, you did believe this so-called Shepherd Reborn’s claim to be true (he, however, is unlikely to be a prophet, in your opinion).

This threat was heeded to be a serious matter, which is why the one-eyed Prince had been sent to deal with it. Naturally, the Prince’s solution involved his dragon and the burning of men. The issue was that he lacked a precise location to burn, so the Royal Family had decreed that noble houses in the nearby areas aid in the Prince’s search for the rebel stronghold, and this task had proven to not be quick.

Again, you tried to involve yourself in politics as little as possible. However, finding out that Prince Aemond would be preoccupied for at least the foreseeable future was welcoming information, because now, you knew that you could visit the Royal Infirmary without fear of repercussion.

You do not believe that you love Jayse, but you cannot say that for certain, because all of these days not knowing about his condition felt like pure torture. You worried for him greatly, but who could you even speak to? You were grateful that it seemed like somehow, no one had heard about your scandalous incident, despite it being known that the master of the law’s son was gravely injured. Though you had seen Jasper Wylde during many meetings attended by the Queen Alicent, the old man would not even look at you. But what could you say or do? You felt certain that at the very least, he knew that you were involved in his son’s predicament. If he did though, he never showed it, and instead acted as though you had never met.

You were not hurt by this though, because you were at fault. If you had never met Jayse, none of this would have ever happened. Or maybe it would have, just to someone else. Thinking about this made your stomach turn.

Evidently, you have come to possess a nervous disposition, especially since moving to King’s Landing (although you do feel that a certain monarch bears responsibility for this). Therefore your decision to visit Jayse at nightfall was a daunting notion. For one, being alone after dusk scared you now. You also have never been an outwardly rebellious child, so the idea of sneaking into the Infirmary to visit Jayse was scary to you, as you feared of being caught. But you had no one to ask to check on him, and you did not believe the Maesters would be kind if you asked to see him during the day, for who are you to them, but a random unwed lady.

And so, you found yourself across the Keep late at night, hooded in one of your more concealing cloaks. You have grown familiar with the grounds and did not expect to get lost. But you remained vigilant, and tried to avoid people at all costs, which was not very difficult. Any guard that saw you would seemingly ignore you, and the Keep lacked visitors at this time of year, as there were no upcoming events which would demand attendance.

Though the Royal Infirmary was not small, you knew where the critical ward was, and felt certain that Jayse would be tended to there. Conveniently, it also had many wide windows, which would help you find your opportunity to visit, when the attending Maester would eventually leave the room, for at least a moment. And so, you arrived, and hid yourself by one of windows, observing the room.

The room was empty, and it was quite dark, so it was difficult for you to see. But it was obvious that the ward was almost completely empty due to all of the vacant beds. You could also see only one Maester attending, and you thanked the Gods. If there was more than one, your plan would fall apart.

And so, you waited. For how long, you do not know. This was the first in many consecutive evenings that you were sober, which you felt acutely. Time passed very slowly, and you got to spend that time in intimate proximity with your thoughts. You felt incredible remorse and responsibility for what had happened, and you did not know what to do. So, you focused on observing the scene.

The beds were a distance away from the window and it was difficult to identify Jayse. There were a handful of patients, and through observation, you concluded that the bed closest to the entrance was Jayse. The injured person had their faced completely wrap, and while you knew little about medical practice, you assume that treating the face is something necessary for the young Wylde’s predicament.

You had grown weary and tired, and were about to abandon your endeavor, as you did not actually know if the Maester would leave, but they thankfully did. Seeing your opportunity, you practically sprinted to the entrance, in the dark, your hood falling off your head as you did. As you were about to enter, you heard your name called out, in a hostile tone. Your heart felt like it was about to burst as you turned around to face the source. There you saw the master of the laws, and he did not appear thrilled.

“Are you insipid,” He asked, but he did not give you a chance to respond. “Have you not done enough? Do you wish my son death?”

“Of course not!” You quietly cry out. You know that you are responsible, but you were here for Jayse’s sake, not yours.

“Well, that is what you are sentencing him to,” the old man spoke in an indignant tone. Walking up to you, he continued, spitefully. “If it was up to me, you would be sent to indentured servitude in the most repellant brothel in King’s Landing, as that is what a whore like you deserves.” You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back, not willing to give the old man the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“But it is not up to me, and I am being unjustly silenced. Rest assured though, the Gods provide, and you will receive your just deserts eventually,” the man ruthlessly finished, his voice filled with righteousness.

“Will he survive?” You ask softly, looking up at him.

Something momentarily shifted in the council member’s face, and he briefly answered you, before pushing past, and into the ward.

“Yes, but his face will never be the same, and neither will he presumably.” Before entering the ward, he finished, with his back towards you. “You are never to come here again to see him, or any other Wylde ever again. If you, I solemnly swear that it will be you that is permanently changed.”

You were hurt but you knew that this was the least of what you deserved it. Oddly, you felt a sense of relief, knowing that Jayse is not dead, and that you understood your position now with the Wylde family. You also knew that you had to send a letter to your parents, informing them that the courting will definitely not proceed, disappointing them yet again.

You expected to cry, but nothing came out. You truly felt numb, almost like a ghost, and you wondered whether you had transformed into one as you haunted through the hallways back to your chambers.

As you entered into your room, closing the door behind you, you slipped off your cape, setting it down on to the nearest surface. You were practically lost in your thoughts and did even realise that the candles in your room were lit, despite you having put them out before leaving.

It was here where you wished most that you were a ghost, because as you glance up at your room, you discover an unwelcome visitor sat on the bench by the window, arms crossed and legs apart the way that many men do.

The room was deathly silent, and you felt detached, like a spectator watching rather than someone actually living in the moment. Wide eyed, you wrap your arms around yourself, as if that would protect you.

The one-eyed Prince was the one to break this silence first, his voice seething. You flinch as he begins speaking.

“I have had a trying week. Was out in a shit hole for days. Burned many men, cut off some tongues,” he pauses for a moment. His voice projected across the room, to where you were, and that seemed to irritate him.

“Come,” the Prince says as he stands up, opening his arms towards you as he takes a few steps forward. You shake your hair fervently, scared. You do not know his intentions, but feel certain that they are neither good nor safe.

The one-eyed Prince repeats your name, impatiently this time. “Come here.” He takes a few more strides, but stops mid-way, waiting for you. You still shake your head though, and back up against the wall. There was no point in running away, but you were not going to run towards him either. The fact that he even potentially thought you would was ridiculous.

Sighing, it was now Prince Aemond who shook his head, annoyed by your stubbornness.

“And what of your promises? I suppose there is nothing keeping me from visiting our friend then.” His threat was unambiguous, and the words of the council member echoed in your mind.

“Do you wish my son death?”

Shaking, you take slow steps towards the Prince, who opens his arms again as you reach him. As you approach to him, he takes your arms, as if you were a child’s doll, and fixes them around his waist, before proceeding to embrace you firmly. In contrast, your arms hung loosely around him. With his chin resting on your head, he continued speaking, in a lower volume now.

“As I was saying, I have had a trying week, but I dealt with the matter, and finally got to leave that shit hole today. But much to my relief, I also happened to miss tonight’s family supper as well– rather difficult to be joyful when one is hungry as well.”

You feel the weight lift off your head, and a hand tilt you chin up. As you look up at him, and see his sharp violet eye, the pupil completely constricted, you know that it is better not to speak, for his monologue has clearly not ended.

“Imagine my dismay, nay my distress. I decide to surprise you with a visit, and discretely come into your chambers, only to discover it empty, at this hour of the night.” His tone was theatrically wicked, and it scared you. As he briefly pauses, his hand shifts to softly capture your neck, and it sits their menacingly.

“Pray tell, what could possibly keep you so busy at such a late hour?”

As he smiled at you, you could not help but almost admire how sinister it was, a complete antithesis to the very nature of what a smile is. Not waiting for your response, Prince Aemond continues.

“Surely it cannot be my loving mother or gentle sister, for they had retired to bed long ago. Neither could it be my niece or nephews, as I saw with my own eye, the babes asleep in their chambers, on their own, with guards securing them. My brothers are out committing debaucheries, the kind which I doubt you can even imagine.” As he spoke the last sentence, his grip around your throat tightened, and you could feel his nails. Normally, you would be crying, but your emotions had failed you, so instead, you had a blank face, which only served further to infuriate the callous Prince.

“As I sat here, for quite a while mind you, I contemplated where you could be, what a lady of your standing could possibly be doing.” He paused for a moment, loosening his grip. Your mouth had gone dry, and you felt like you were about to choke.

“For a moment, I thought perhaps you had another lover?” The Prince’s eye darkened as he said that.

“No, that is not correct, for you are not that emotionless. No, you are the very opposite. I know you still care for our friend.” The indirect mention of Jayse brought back the light in your eyes, which Aemond saw, and his tone became even more agitated.

“Yes, you still care for that pest. But surely, you would not be foolish enough to visit him.”

As Aemond spoke, his face inched closer to yours, and you could feel his breath on your face. You realised that he knew, and your stomach sank completely. He had been gone for days, and you felt certain that he would not be back for a couple more. How were you so wrong?

You didn’t know what to say, because what could possibly calm him in such a state. You followed your instinct, as you did not know better. Softly closing your eyes, you incline forward so that your lips would meet his, except this time, the Prince leaned back, catching you off guard. His hand was still loosely position at your throat, and moved as you did, so as not to hurt you. Opening your eyes, slightly startled, you could still see the anger still manifest in his expression, though slightly dimmed. So, you swayed forward again, only for the Prince veer from you again.

Prince Aemond melodically hummed in disapproval while lifting your head from your neck, so that you faced him again.

“That will not work again,” the Prince smiled ominously. “Do tell me though, I really am intrigued. What have you been doing out so late?”

“I went for a walk.” You say blankly.

“You went for a walk?” As the Prince responded, his face twisted in contempt. The hand around your waist swift deviated to your buttocks, hoisting you up against him, and you let out a short, sharp cry. Your hands quickly moved to his chest, and you tried to push him away, but he firmly held on to you.

“Do not mock me. I know where your walk led you, I can see it in your face.” His breath was warm as he spoke, his face menacing. “What am I to do with you? Perhaps with each of your indiscretions, I should send you a piece of him? I do love giving gifts.” Your eyes widened at that.

“Please, my Grace.”

“So that is what you want?” Misinterpreting your words, the Prince pulled back, and you felt your heart fasten again.

“No!” You almost yell, grabbing hold of an arm. You did not know what to do, so you started ranting. “I will not see him, I will do as you say, please, you have my word– just do not do that to me. Just tell me what you want!”

With a sad smile, Aemond turned to face you and responded.

“I want you, as I have shown you countless times, and I thought that I already your word.”

Indignantly yet ashamed, you answer back. “You say that you want me, that you care for me, yet your actions do not show it. Tell me, if any lord or man has treated me as you have, would you think that I deserve it?” As you finish, you put a hand onto his chest, near his heart.

“My sweet lady, I am not any lord or man. You know who I am.”

“Then show Jayse mercy. Not for him, for me.” You beg again, taking his free hand, and holding it up to your face, you then proceed to gently place a kiss on his knuckles, and he surveys you attentively, as if trying to commit this moment to memory.

Any fragment of pride that you possessed was gone, and you knew that you had nothing left in your power, except one thing could offer as a woman. Except that once you give it up, you would be without power again, except this time, completely. It was here, you understood that none of this mattered. So, you pulled his hand back onto your throat, and spoke vehemently.

“If you want to kill someone, kill me.”

At that, the one-eyed Prince froze and pulled back from you entirely. At first, he stepped back from you, and then started pacing. You watched him whilst trying to steady your breathing. You prepared for him to end you, and morbidly, you were curious how he would do so. Eventually, Prince Aemond he sat on the edge of your bed, and stared down at the floor. It was silent until he coarsely whispered.

“Stop this.”

His voice brimmed with malaise, and a wave of sympathy washed over you. Sighing, you approached him, voluntarily this time. Going down on your knees, you positioned yourself in front of the Prince and took hold of his hands. His eye was still staring wide at the floor, and you wanted to scream at him to look at you. But you wouldn’t, so you squeezed his hand tightly for a moment, before responding softly.

“All right.”

At that, Aemond looked at you in disbelief. Neither of you felt like you won, and instead, it felt feel like the two of you had reached at an impasse. This was a better outcome than you could have ever expected.

Standing up, Prince Aemond pulled you to your feet as well, and reached into the pocket of his trousers. He then pulled out a small brown package, and placed it gently into your arms. Confused, you cocked your head and ask.

“What is this?”

Exhaling, the Prince responded quietly, almost uncharacteristically. “Something I found whilst scouting one of the small towns on foot. Open it.”

Gently unwrapping the parcel, you see a beautiful blood-coloured gemstone attached to an intricate chain. As you lift the necklace to get a better view of it, you drop it, but the Prince’s quick reflexes manage to catch and save the piece. You expected him to chastise or mock you for dropping the item, but instead, the Prince smirked, amused.

“May I?” He asks, whilst holding the chain up. Looking up at him, you faintly nod, lifting your hair up with your hands. The Prince then walked around and stood closely behind you. Putting his arms over you, he sets the pendant against your chest, gently positioning pressing it down, and then pulled the chain back, clasping it behind your neck. As he did, you could feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, and the sensation made your skin prickle. Pulling your hands from your hair, he brushed your hair down and spun you around. Giving you a glance over, while tracing a finger on your chest, around the chain, he looked at you and commented.

“Beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You smiled shyly, looking down at his rough hands, which you held. Glancing at the discarded wrapping paper that had fallen to the ground, you could not stop yourself from asking.

“Is this why you came to visit me?” As you looked back up, Prince Aemond rigidly nodded. Though the night had been fraught, this had lifted you spirits. Whilst definitely improper, this was the first gift you received from anyone of the opposite sex to whom you were not related to, and you felt a wave of girlish giddiness fleetingly pass.

You knew that you had a reached a positive end to your interaction and the evening, yet you still worried. You do not doubt that that the Prince is cunning and duplicitous, while the gift was indeed kind, and he was in a seemingly good mood, you also knew that you cannot trust him and that he cannot be trusted.

His threats were still fresh in your memory, and you were not willing to risk Jayse’s life by letting the Prince do as he has expressly said he wishes. You were now about to cross a line there was no coming back from, and you knew that everything would change for you after this. But you did so anyway, because really, things were already not the same, so did it really matter? If your luck persists, no one may ever even know.

Stepping backwards towards your bed, you pull on the Prince’s hand. “Stay with me.”

Prince Aemond hesitates, holding his ground. “I do not think that it is a good idea, my Lady, I–”

“Stay with me,” you repeat yourself more adamantly now, interrupting him. “I know this is not as you imagine, and I am not ready to do anything, but stay with me, please.”

Sighing, the Prince gives in, and follows you into bed.

Author’s Note: I am almost completely positive that it is not canon, but I’ve decided that the people of King’s Landing and Westeros eat dinner at about seven pm after sunset, and head to bed soon after. The timings are a little wonky, I know, but I pictured the final scene happening a little after midnight.

As usual, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! This time I managed to restrain myself from immediately posting and spent some time proofreading, so hopefully there are less grammatical errors.

Chapter 4

Tags: @girl-obsessed-with-things

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #hotd #house of the dragon #targaryen #fanfiction #aemondtargaryen!thots #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #comfort #angst

601 notes · View notes