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vampyrsm · 1 year

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An Ode to Lost Love.

✞ — Synopsis: What was that quote about another's silence? “Be leery of silence. It doesn't mean you won the argument. Often, people are just busy reloading their guns.” Right. You should’ve seen this coming, really, it was a little stupid of you to believe he just forgot all about you.

✞ — Warnings: MDNI. Dark content, implied stockholm syndrome, mentions of murder, the reader receives death threats, yandere behaviour, violence, blood, injuries, asphyxiation, the reader is knocked unconscious, concussion, heavy manipulation, preying on the reader, dumbification, objectification, gaslighting, non-con, dubcon (but hardly, it's a very grey area), disassociation, minimal/no prep vaginal sex, burning/marking in detail, reader vomits once due to injuries, creampie, breeding kink, baby trapping, Dabi flipflops a lot between emotions.

✞ — Word Count: 7k

✞ — Notes: This is a Dabi x female!Reader. This is my first real dark content fic. If this is not your cup of tea, please do not interact. Please take care with the warnings, it's very much a dead dove: do not eat. Posted over on AO3 too for ease of reading. I definitely do not condone anything that has been written here, I'm also not romanticising noncon or any of the warnings. Thank you for taking the time to read it, remember to take care and enjoy :)

Living in the aftermath of someone's destruction was just as you would expect; chaotic, and lonesome. You had signed up for this all those years ago but you hadn’t expected it to turn out quite like this. You were never going to get used to the stares when someone recognised you in the store, or the smashed windows of the local youth who wanted to shame someone who was tricked with the promise of something more.

Though you didn’t feel ashamed for what you had done, nor did you regret it – for the most part, anyway. Sure you had regretted keeping silent when you saw a man lose his life because of a simple mistake, you should’ve left when you realised that you were being lied to. That the man you had fallen in love with was not a misunderstood young man but rather a cruel and deceiving criminal.

The man in question? Touya Todoroki – also most commonly known as Dabi.

You hated this part of town, it was… less than decent. Run down and filled with low-life criminals who were on the run or simply just wanted to live a somewhat normal life. The walls of the buildings you pass by are decaying, unrepaired from when heroes did decide to pay a visit to the neglected parts of the cities and towns they were supposed to serve and protect.

What a fucking lie.

It’s not that you hated hero society, per se, but you also knew how disgusting some of the heroes still were. After everything Touya went through after he poured his heart out to you and the rest of the world – nothing fucking changed. Of course, it had pissed you off when they exhausted him to the point of near death before carting him off to Tartarus, they were sweeping him under the rug to be forgotten about. You attempted to reach out to the other members of the liberation but none of them wanted anything to do with you, you weren’t a villain. You were just attached to one.

The stairs up to your rundown apartment were practically crumbling with each step, you made sure to avoid the 8th step that was shattered entirely. When you first moved here, you thought it would only be for a short amount of time, just somewhere to lay low to avoid the probing questions of the heroes who wondered if you were compliant in any of Touya’s crimes. But the two-year timeframe you gave yourself quickly turned to three, then five, and now here you were eight years later. The apartment building looked the same as when you first moved in, the mysterious stain on the carpet leading to your apartment had never been removed and you’re pretty sure the world will end before it’s ever cleaned.

Your door opened with a creak, the old hinges were hanging on for dear life and you never worked up the nerve to ask the guy who let you live here to try and fix it. Of course, you would do it yourself, if it were not for the fear of breaking it entirely and having no door at all in such a shady neighbourhood. With a click of the door behind you, your entire body relaxes with a drop of your shoulders and you drop the keys in the chipped bowl by the front door.

Once free of your shoes, you trudge further into the apartment. Inside it was much nicer than outside, you had made sure to work hard to make yourself comfortable here. At first, you hesitated on decorating, the constant voice in the back of your head telling you that Dabi—Touya wouldn’t like it. But it became easier over time, as the claws he had sunk in your flesh had loosened with each passing day without him leering over you. Of course, he still lingered deep in your bones, scars like the ones he left on you would never truly go away.

You hadn’t realised you were quite so ‘damaged’ until after he was gone. When you were suddenly allowed to break the surface of the water Dabi had been holding you down beneath to see you squirm, it was jarring, to say the least. You struggled day to day wondering what to do with yourself, you had no one to direct your every move or to care for you the way he had. The first couple of years were the worst, a constant void in place of where your heart should be. You longed to have Dabi back, to card your fingers through soft snow-like hair, you missed his insufferable warmth. It had suffocated you at first until it became a comfort, something you needed to get through the day.

The letters you sent back and forth with him had helped some, the smell of smoke and ash when you’d open a new letter from him would get you through the darkest of nights. He had always had a way with his words, not many would think that of Touya, he hadn’t finished school and he most definitely didn’t have the support through his teenage years but he had taught himself how to read and write. And he was very good at it, very fucking good.

With each letter, you could practically hear his voice, the syrupy low tone that would muddle your brain and numb your nerves. Those letters had started to grow more erratic, it morphed from the loving Touya you had been privileged to know in the safety of his bedroom into Dabi, a cruel villain who wanted you to suffer just as he had. He didn’t take it easy when you told him you were starting to question the legitimacy of your relationship with the scarred man. He grew unkind with his words, the I love you turning into I wish you were fucking dead at the end of each letter.

He felt betrayed, you figured, everyone he had known had abandoned him and you were just the same as the rest of them. His final letter went into gruesome detail as to what he would do to you once he got out, how his hands may be made to burn but he would relish in watching the light leave your eye when he choked you to death. You didn’t need to read further to know he would’ve gone into detail about what he’d then do with your dead body. That was the last letter you had read, but they continued to come every fortnight like clockwork until they didn’t. You figured he might’ve gotten bored, or perhaps someone had taken him out on the inside. There wasn’t a shortage of people who would want Dabi dead.

The bag in your hand was heavy as you dropped it onto the counter of the tiny kitchen, the relief in your wrist was instantaneous and you could finally relax fully. Your eyes close for a brief moment, relishing in the quiet of the apartment with the distant sound of sirens from down on the street. It was good to be home, each trip was harder than the last with the fear of being recognised by heroes, or worse. With the safety of your home wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, you reopened your eyes to begin the trivial task of putting away the groceries. But as you step further into the kitchen, it’s as if your entire body is dunked into ice water.

There’s a letter. An open letter was pinned to the old wooden cupboard with one of the knives from the rack. You don’t need to get closer to know which letter it is, the paper is well-worn and the big hearts he had drawn at the bottom are enough of an indicator. It’s the one he sent you on your birthday. It was riddled with love confessions, how he missed you more than anything in the world and when he’d get out he promised your hand in marriage. A life you wanted but knew you’d never get with a man like Dabi.

You take a step back, hip bumping into the corner of the counter to startle you into action. You whip around, ready to run out of the apartment but instead, your path is cut off almost instantly. There’s a broad chest in front of you, wide shoulders and a head of snowy white hair that you would recognise in a crowd of a thousand people. When you meet his eyes, he’s sneering down at you with a heat in his eyes that you saw moments before he would burn someone alive.

“Hello, doll. Miss me?” His voice hasn’t changed in the eight years apart, it’s still got a timbre to it that you can feel deep in the pit of your stomach. He looks bigger, somehow, the muscles of his neck and shoulders look firmer. He had always loomed over you but now he seemed even taller, swallowing the room whole with just his aura alone. Dabi must be able to see the way you’re eyeing him up, not quite in the way you had in the past but rather in a way that makes him excited; you were thinking of running.

You’re horribly predictable, he realises as you dash to the other side of the kitchen to dart around the tiny kitchen island that really didn’t give you any sort of head start. You can hear him click his tongue, then huffing a sigh before there’s the loud squeak of his boots and the thump of his bounding footsteps as he chases after you. The apartment is small, you don’t have a whole lot of room to make your escape so you have to rush past him when he starts to corner you into the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

A big mistake, you realise. He’s always been quick, and lithe on his feet and it reminded you of when a snake would strike. Fast and precise. His hands grab at your ribcage, easily swiping you off your feet before you’re slammed against the closest wall with a bang of your head on the wall. The world swirls when you try to look at him, the blue of his eyes glowing with mirth at the fact you even tried to outrun him. You’ve never been able to do it before, so what made you think you could do it this time?

“Silly fucking bitch,” He snarls in your face, the heat coming from his hands alone makes you squirm uncomfortably, you can feel the sting of welts starting to form on your skin in the shape of his hands. “You thought you could hide from me, didn’t you? You really fucking thought I’d forget about you?” Your silence isn’t what he wanted, apparently, as he pulls you from the wall just to slam you against it once again before throwing you to the floor. The movement has your stomach churning, bile rising in your throat when your head impacts on the floor again.

“I’d never forget about you, never.” His weight is heavy as he settles atop you, his thighs effectively pinning you beneath him before his hands descend onto your throat. His eyes are wide, manic, his lips parted in a twisted grin that makes him look more like the Devil himself. “Remember what I said to you? Hm? You remember the letters I sent?” You choke against his hands when he pushes harder, your fingers instinctively trying to come up and loosen his hold on you. “FUCKING ANSWER ME!” The spit of his words hits you in the face, but your entire head feels numb and fuzzy, your lips hurt – everything does.

“Y–” He leans in closer, sneering in your face and it does nothing to relieve the pressure on your throat. You’re going to die, he’s actually going to do it. “Yes!” you croak, hardly an audible word but Dabi hears it loud and clear. He holds eye contact as if he’s waiting for something, you’re not quite sure. Maybe he’s waiting for you to die, he had wanted to see the life drain from your eyes—

His hands come away from your throat, a too-hot hand latching on the underside of your jaw and his blunt nails dig into your cheeks. You suck in a harsh breath, choking on the sudden reintroduction of oxygen but you don’t get much longer to relish the fact you’re still alive. Dabi looms over you, the outline of his body blocks out the dingy yellow light overhead, giving him a grim outline that you have to squint at when you look up at him properly.

“Yeah? Then why’d you ignore me? Why’d you make me think you were fucking dead, or that you were busy getting fucked by some other guy like the whore that you are.” There’s a warning in his eye that prompts you to reply.

“I–I was scared!” you clear your throat uncomfortably, the confession coming from your mouth unwillingly but it was the hard truth. You were terrified of him and the things he had said to you, solely because you knew he would go through with it. If Dabi was anything, then he was a man of his word. His fingers curl harder into your jaw, forcing your mouth to open with the pressure. The look in his eye terrifies you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking with the way his eyes bounce back and forth between your own. He’s searching, you belatedly realise, searching to see if you’re telling the truth.

“Good,” he finally says, “You should be fucking scared.” He pulls your head from the floor just to smash it back against the floor in a blink of an eye. Everything falls into inky darkness.

There’s a distant sound of water running, but it sounds like it’s miles away. Your mind starts to slowly swirl back to life, the pain at the back of your head blossoming into something fierce that has a pained groan coming from your lips.

When you open your eyes, you’re no longer looking up at the ceiling of your hallway but rather at the ceiling fan in your bedroom, you’re not sure if it’s actually on or if your vision is still swimming. Nothing is quite adding up, how did you end up here? You were on the floor, and a ghost of something heavy atop of you had your mind jogging to try and catch up. But you weren’t always on the floor, something had put you there — no, someone had put you there. Dabi.

He’s not here, as far as you can tell, there’s no immediate warmth that comes with him when he steps into a room but there’s a distant smell of ash. He was still lurking. The shooting pain in the back of your head has your body jolting, muscles seizing up before they relax once the pain subsides just enough to let you breathe.

You were no idiot, you had hit your head a number of times, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were teetering on the edge between life and death. Though that doesn’t deter you when your mind finally catches up with you, you have to get out of here. If he’s not here right now, then you have a chance to leave. This might be the last chance you have.

With a great effort that has your face screwing up, eyes clenched shut, you roll yourself onto your side until your face is stuffed into the soft cotton of your bed sheets that you huff against. Your entire body felt like it was being weighed down, your muscles screamed when you slowly got your arms beneath you to push yourself up enough to stare down at the bed. Instantly your eyes lock onto the patch of still-wet blood, the stain was massive and the sight of it had your stomach threatening to empty itself. Or maybe that was the concussion.

Your feet slip on the floor when you try to find your footing, your knees colliding with the floor with a muted thud that you hope Dabi doesn’t hear. The feeling of your jeans against the skin of your knees is relieving, you knew Dabi preferred for you to be … conscious, but you wouldn’t put it past him to want something regardless of whether you were awake or not. Slowly, you get up onto unsteady feet as if you had never walked a day in your life before. Your vision swims again when you stand up straight, it feels as if your head is ten times the size it is as it lolls back in threat of toppling you over again.

But just as you’re about to fall, there are hands catching you beneath your armpits and letting your head land against a shoulder – a bare one, but your mind doesn’t quite connect the dots just yet. “You really are pathetic, aren’t you? You can’t do anything without me, no wonder you panicked when I wasn’t here anymore…” Dabi drawls into your ear, but his voice sounds like it’s submerged in water. He breathes in a heavy exasperated sigh, his body jostling yours. “C’mon doll, let’s get you cleaned up. You made such a mess.”

There’s no room to argue, not that you would be able to form one with how your tongue tingles and your throat burns. Dabi is anything but graceful with the way he drags you towards the bathroom, uncaring for your feet that slip or bang against the corner of the shoddy old wooden door as you pass by.

There’s a bang of a door and you’re submerged in sticky warmth, the steam from the bathtub filling the room to the point where you can’t quite see more than a few inches in front of your face. With a shove and a push, you find your hands pressed into the slippy tile of your bathroom sink, your mind still too foggy to control your extremities and you find yourself pressed against the cool glass mirror.

You can feel Dabi’s eyes on you as he watches you struggle to get your bearings, your forehead pressed to the glass is soothing against the deafening thunderstorm in your head. His fingers are long when they wrap themselves carefully around your throat this time, pressing into the bruises you weren’t aware had already formed from his previous attack. Your head slumps back against his shoulders and you can just make out the glowing blue of his eyes as he stares right back at you, it always felt like he had the ability to stare into your soul.

“Look at you…” He coos, voice a soft contrast to the harsh voice from earlier. His spare hand cards through your hair, brushing past the gash on the back of your head that has you wincing. “My poor baby, you did this all to yourself.” Had you? You supposed he did have a point, you did ignore his letters, and you did try to run when he always told you to never do it. If you weren’t so stupid you might’ve avoided this, you shouldn’t have turned your back on him.

His burning fingers slide up from your throat until he grabs at your jaw once again, angling your head to stare at yourself directly in the mirror. Even through the thickness of the steam you can see you look on the verge of half-dead, there’s no life to your eyes, no usual glow to your skin. It’s horrifying to see yourself looking like a different person entirely. You were no longer you, but rather you were reduced back to the role of being Dabi’s plaything. Dabi hums deep in his throat as if he can hear the sluggish thoughts rolling around in your mind, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

“Look what you did to my baby, my doll. She’s all broken and for what? Because you forgot your place?” He clicks his tongue, chin withdrawing from your shoulder until he’s drawn back up to his full height and you can just make out the look on his face. His nostrils flared, lips drawing into a grim line and eyes half-lidded. “Maybe I should do you a favour, remind you of your place.” Dabi spins you on the spot, steadying your whirling head with both of his hands before he takes a careful step back and you can’t help but wonder if he plans on reminding you of your place by finally putting you out of your misery.

“Strip.”

What?

“Don’t make me do it for you, you won’t like it.” It’s a very clear warning, blaring sirens and red flags. You have to blink hard, will your mind to work with your trembling hands that attempt to grab at the bottom of your shirt. It feels like an eternity goes by until you’re dropping the shirt onto the floor with a wet plop, your eyebrows furrow at the sound but when you attempt to look down your vision swims again – “Useless.” Dabi grumbles before his warmth is pressed to your front, the smell of forest fire smoke choking you.

His fingers are quick and precise when they undo the buttons of your jeans before they’re shoved down your thighs, pooling at your ankles and Dabi is at least courteous enough to let you hold his forearms when you climb out of them until you’re left in just your underwear.

As if appraising a piece of art in a museum, Dabi lets his eyes slowly trail over flesh that he had seen an endless amount of times in the past. His head tilts slowly, regarding the swell of your breasts in the cup of your bra and the softness of your stomach, the way your hips pudge a little from the tight elastic of your plain underwear.

Still engulfing your personal space with his heat, he lets a hand slide up along your side, pressing dangerously into your ribs to hear the sharp inhale of when his fingers brush into bruised skin and muscle. Cerulean eyes level with your own when he inches around to the back of your bra, his fingers seemingly hardly move before the straps slip down your shoulders and the cups slacken on your chest. He plucks it from your body, letting it drop to the floor before his fingers trail back around to your front.

He keeps his head tilted, gaze redirected down to your chest and he can’t help but wet his tongue in anticipation. You had always been his most prized possession, the most beautiful, a masterpiece that was all for him. Those same too-hot fingers trail along the underside of your breasts, feeling the weight of them before groping one much too hard in one large palm. His fingers curl cruelly, squeezing as if it were a stress ball and all you could do was take it, your face crumpling in pain much to his delight.

“I trusted you, y’know.” He all but mumbles, gaze not lifting from the way your tit spills between his fingers when he gives another squeeze. “I thought it would always be me and you, against the world or whatever the fuck they say.” His thumb and index finger mercilessly pinch your nipple, tugging on it harshly to pull a pitiful cry from your mouth.

The sound has his eyes flicking up to yours, watching the way your lashes clump with unshed tears and how you’re not even attempting to stop the saliva dribbling from your lips. You really were so pathetic. Dabi chews on his scarred bottom lip for a moment, tossing over a thought in his mind but instead he opts to move his fingers to your neglected nipple, pulling and tugging until you’re a snivelling mess.

“‘M sorry!” You sob, the volume of your voice makes your head throb and the tears falling in fat streaks make your head feel heavier. “I’m sorry, Touya! Please, I–I didn’t know what to do without you.” The use of his name makes his eyebrow twitch, jaw clicking in place when he glares at you. It’s a low blow, to use his name like that and he knows you know that. He had always forbidden you from using that name unless you were given permission.

“Last warning, doll. I’m being nice here. You don’t get to use that name when you betrayed me.” His words have your mouth closing, bottom lip wobbling in an effort to keep yourself from openly crying in front of your tormentor. He would only ridicule you for it, tease you and see how far he could go before you broke apart from his words alone. Dabi doesn’t wait to pull down your panties next, the material dragging and scratching at your skin until they’re pooled at your feet along with everything else. “Turn around.”

And you do. You wordlessly turn, letting your hands brace on the sink once again before you meet your own gaze in the mirror. You somehow looked worse, the snot and saliva made you look quite like the snivelling petulant child that Dabi spoke to you like. There’s a clink of a belt before it hits the floor, the dropping of your heart into your stomach threatens to tip you over the edge.

A boot kicks your ankles apart, uncaring for the way you flinch at just how hard he kicks you. You’re perched over the sink, your stomach twitching every time it touches the cold porcelain. Dabi had only ever forced himself onto you a handful of times in the past, at the start of your “relationship”, he always soothed your tears and hushed your refusal with false promises hidden in between his sickly sweet words.

Over time the lines blurred between him forcing himself onto you and you willingly opening your legs for him when he asked for it. It pleased him to see you listening to him, and he became ‘softer’ if that was a possible word to describe a villain like him. Time spent with Dabi got easier when he was softer, it actually felt believable when he whispered into your ear at night how much he loved you, how much he appreciated you and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. It was hard to distinguish his lies and the truth when he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars.

A searing hot hand pressed to your bare ass has your mind jolting, bile rising momentarily in your throat until you lean into the coolness of the sink once again. Those same fingers that feel as if they had come from the depths of hell brush their way down over your sensitive skin until they find their way between your thighs. And much to your embarrassment, you’re wet. Biology was a cruel mean thing, your body was still hardwired to react to the man of your nightmares lest you want to face the consequences. Your bottom lip wobbles, thankful for the fact Dabi is preoccupied with his new discovery.

His laugh is loud and boisterous, almost manic with the way his eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re fucking wet. I knew it,” he breathes in hard, pushing his hips flush with your own and you can feel the twitch of his leaky cock between your cheeks. “I knew you missed me, I knew you still loved me. This pussy never lied to me, unlike someone.” His words sting, a jab directly into your heart.

He sounds hurt, upset that you’d actually try to lie and hide away from him. It has fresh tears pricking your eyes, how could you hurt someone like him? Someone who loved you so devotedly.

Long deft fingers prod and poke between your thighs, pulling your lips apart crudely to watch the strings of arousal snap and cling to your thighs. He’s still chuckling deep in his chest, elated with the newfound knowledge that you still want him in such a carnal way. He circles your clit in clumsy patterns, enough to have your thighs tensing up and hips arching into the pleasure you’re unwillingly receiving. But the thing about Dabi is—

He’s not a patient man.

The tip of his cock pierces your unprepared hole, the pain shoots from deep in your pelvis and ricochets up your spine until it tingles at the base of your skull. Your hands help brace yourself over the sink, your head drops down and you’re vaguely aware of the way your throat aches with a scream. His fingers find a home in hidden bruises, the sting of his metal staples heating against your skin is familiar. Dabi had always been big, thick and unforgiving with the piercings that he adorned. Each of the barbells digs into your velvety walls, his hips so flush with yours you’re not sure where you end and he begins anymore.

“Fuck, missed this too much. Thought I’d never get to feel your cunt wrapped around me again.” His words are vulgar, but they spark something to life in your brain. Something you hadn’t quite considered until now. Just how was he here? Last you heard Dabi was never getting out, he killed too many people and committed far too many crimes to just be let loose on the world again.

Though you never got to air the question, his hips drawback until they’re smacking back against your ass. The pace from there on out is brutal, the tip of his cock bullies itself into your clenching cunt until it hits against your cervix. Each tap feels like you’re being punched in the gut, your lips parted in a soundless scream.

The pain was too much, the ache in your head was getting steadily worse and the back-and-forth thrashing of your body was making you woozy. “D–Dabi…” You try to speak, the words slurred with the saliva that dribbles from your parted mouth and drips into the sink.

“What?” He snarls, grunting with the effort of how hard he’s fucking you.

“Hurts.” You reply with a gasp, his fingers instantly latching around your throat until you’re pulled up to face what you assume must be the Devil leering over your shoulder with the most disgruntled expression on his face.

You can smell the burning of flesh before the pain registers, the sizzling hardly audible over the sound of his hips slapping against your abused rear. “Yeah? Maybe it’ll teach you a fucking lesson. Next time you think about trying to leave me, you’ll remember how much it hurt.”

His fingers squeeze tighter around your throat until you can’t breathe, the horrid stench of marred flesh the only thing flooding your system when you desperately try to suck in air. Then you’re falling forward, your forehead plummeting with force against the mirror and you think you hear it smashing over the deafening ring in your ears. It feels like your head is being held under a pillow, like someone has pressed two large hands over your ears and held you there. Your throat burns, for a lack of a better word. The flesh bubbles and hisses with a reminder of Dabi’s words.

You’re not quite sure how much time has passed until you work up the strength to lift your gaze to the now-smashed mirror. The first thing you notice is the blood trickling down from a gash on your forehead, trailing down along the bridge of your nose until it meets the plumpness of your lips – filling the cracks with a metallic taste. Then you see it, the burn, it’s gnarly.

The flesh is hardly recognisable as flesh, it looks like butchered meat. It’s blistered already, layers of the skin open for the world to see and the sight finally does tip you over the edge. The bile doesn’t burn quite as much as the 3rd-degree handprint on your throat as you spill the contents of your stomach into the sink.

Dabi groans in anger, snarling as he retches you away from the sink and throws you onto all fours on the floor. “Disgusting fucking whore,” There’s something wet pressed to your mouth, a sponge you realise, as it drags roughly against your mouth until he forces it into your mouth. The scouring pad scrapes along your tongue, replacing the taste of vomit with soap. “Always making me clean up your messes.” Then it’s gone as fast as it came, your body being shoved and pushed until your back is against the bathmat and you’re staring up at Dabi who seems to be kneeling already between your thighs.

He wastes no time once again in pressing himself back inside of you, the stretch this time nowhere near as painful but it reignites the old ache of when he first forced himself inside. Your heart aches when you stare up at him, silhouetted by the flickering dim light of the bathroom bulb. It makes the white of his hair glow, angelic your brain supplies, but he was anything but an angel. His hands grab at your thighs, forcing them back until they uncomfortably press into your chest. The angle makes it hard to breathe, the furious pace he sets is agonising.

But your body is betraying you once again, the lewd squelch of your pussy is giving you away. A deep dark and twisted part of you has missed this, missed him. Missed the way he would fuck you like it was his last day on earth, like he had something to prove. It has an involuntary whimper leaving your throat, and of course, Dabi perks up at the sound – whilst he didn’t care much if you were silent the entire time, he always enjoyed the cute noises you’d make for him and only him. His eyes find yours, and you’re sucked into the endless expanse of the blinding blue Hellfire.

Dabi has a new goal in mind now, to fuck you the way he knows you liked to be fucked. His hips roll a little more fluidly, finding the old rhythm from all those years ago that surely would have your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your lips parting to sing him the most beautiful of songs with your moans. You don't disappoint him either, not when his thumb joins the fray and rubs languid circles against your puffy clit. The initial contact and stimulation have your hips jerking, fighting against the hold he has on you but it’s futile; he has you pinned beneath him much like a wolf would with its prey.

“There she is,” he grins when your fluttering eyes meet his, that contempt and confusion you had held onto for so long being replaced with a glassy look in your eye that must be lust. “There’s my fucking girl. Missed you so much baby, missed your cute noises. Y’gonna give me more, right? It’s the right thing to do, after all, you did hurt my feelings.” He still looks angelic angled over you like this, the shadows of his face almost hiding the glinting staples and scars that cover most of his body now. You can’t help but nod at his words, it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?

Dabi groans at your assent, fucking into you somehow harder. The slap of his heavy balls against the rim of your ass is loud, the sticky sound of his hips meeting yours fuels your own impending orgasm.

Of course, Dabi knows it’s coming too, his thumb presses firmer against your clit and moves a little faster to edge you closer and closer whilst he drops his hips just enough to have the tip of his cock hitting that squishy spot that no one but him has been able to reach.

You can’t help but gasp and squeal, your back arching off of the floor until it slams back down when your orgasm hits you like a train. It’s violent, shakes through your bones like an earthquake would through a building. Your toes curl uncomfortably in the air, your thighs twitch in an attempt to close them to bar the man still torturing your clit from causing you any more pleasurable pain.

“Enough,” you try and push his hand away but Dabi never listens, he bats your hand away with a harsh slap that has your skin tingling in pain. “You’re gonna take it, like the good girl I know you are.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes you can,” He grapples your still twitching thighs until they tighten around his waist and then he’s diving down to your face. His breath is hot against your face, the smell of cigarette ash suffocates you.

“I know you can. Now kiss me.” He demands, and the fear of not obeying his command in such a compromising position has you indulging him. Your lips press against his, you work hard to try and keep yourself dispassionate but it’s impossible when he does the thing with the tip of his tongue – drags it along your bottom lip so delicately until he pries you open, lets the smooth expanse of his tongue coax yours out until he can suck on it.

The steadily rising heat of the kiss engulfs you, douses you in an indescribable warmth that you can’t help but lean into the familiarity of it. It’s intoxicating to let go of that fear, to detach yourself from the person you had become in the eight years of solitude and recede back into the one who was simply in love with a man who was willing to burn down the world at her feet. But you’ve never been allowed to live in the illusion you formulate to ignore the harsh reality of things, Dabi would never give you that luxury.

His lips part from yours with a wet smack, saliva coating your lips and he grins again. The staples in his cheeks almost look like they might split as he stares at you, splayed out with a faraway look in your eye when you stare up at him.

“Gonna cum inside this beautiful pussy,” he breathes, eyes coming to life when your eyes slowly start to refocus on him and the words he’s letting spill from his saccharine mouth. “Fill you up nice and good with my cum, get you pregnant so you can never fucking leave me.”

What? Is that what he wanted? You squirm in an attempt to get away from him, but he keeps you uncomfortably pinned in a deep mating press whilst his cock bullies itself deeper – you hadn’t even noticed the way it was twitching so harshly in the depths of your pussy until now. He was too close, he was really going to do it—

“Oh fuck, yeah, squeeze me like that baby. I knew you wanted me to breed you.” You don’t, you don’t want to be trapped with his child. It’s the ultimate thing he would hold over your head until the end of time, you could never escape him if you gave birth to a child that had the same dangerous eyes as his. “Aw, doll, don’t cry. It’s okay, I won’t leave you to raise the brat on its own. I’ll be there, always.” You hadn’t even realised you were crying until he mentioned it.

The groan that rumbles deep in Dabi’s chest and vibrates up through his throat is something you would never, ever, forget. It was a sound that meant only one thing; he was about to cum. You feel the twitch before the first spurt of molten cum paints your insides. That burn of your insides is something you had grown accustomed to after the time spent with Dabi, he had said it was because of his quirk. Everything about him was just hotter.

He holds himself balls deep in your dripping cunt, uncaring at the shuddering sob that shakes your body at the realisation that he’s going to keep his promise of making sure you get pregnant. The thought has your eyes closing, your head far too sore to think about what might just happen if you were to get pregnant with Dabi’s child.

Your body is limp when he effortlessly picks you up eventually, tucking his hands under your armpits before your feet are placed in something cold and wet. Your body starts with a jolt, your skin pricking with gooseflesh before you’re forced to sit down in the bathtub. Just how much time had passed for the bath to grow cold?

A warm chest is pressed to your back, pulling you effortlessly between long defined legs and arms loop around you like a safety belt. Dabi holds you there, his fingers stroking delicately along the skin he had bruised and marred not too long ago. You could almost fall into the allusion of him being a lover, a man who was simply giving you the aftercare you need.

The bath bubbles around you with the raising temperature, his skin is too hot for you to be laid up against like this and you can feel the staples burning their way into your flesh but you can’t find the strength anymore to fight back. He pushes you forward slightly to reach for a washcloth, dipping it into the scorching water and slowly but carefully dragging it along your bloodied skin. He doesn't go near the wound on your throat.

It feels like no time has passed at all since he left you and now, those eight years apart squashed into nothing when he noses his way into your hair and breathes in.

“How did you find me?” You speak eventually, Dabi remains silent for a moment and that only makes you worry more.

“I always knew where you were. You shouldn’t trust everyone you meet.”

And if that wasn’t the truth.

#tw noncon #cw noncon #tw baby trapping #cw dark content #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha x you #dabi smut #touya todoroki smut #touya smut #dabi x you

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Becoming : Jason Todd x fem!reader

A/N : This is going to be a series. It's a cheshire!verse story showing origins and life of Y/N as the vigilante.

Some other parts are: Cheshire cat, That damn gala and Five years later, Tired and Benched. (not necessarily in that order though)

HOW IT ALL STARTED:

„Y/N?”

There she was. Young girl, barely over 12 years old, broken, scared and shaking. Standing over her father’s grave still processing what happened when this strange, darkly dressed man approached her. She knew him. Of course she knew him. She was her father’s boss, named Bruce Wayne. The philanthropist. Even though her father did not talk much about his work and his employer she caught pieces of late night phone talks, raised voiced and occasionally fear in her father’s eyes when he picked up the phone and his gaze rested on her while listening to whoever was on the other side. Oh, and one thing she remembered particularly clear. One fateful night. There was no phone call, no warning, nothing when a bunch of assaulters stormed into her house, kicking down the doors. She clearly remembered the haze, the fear, the terror and the urgency with which her father grabbed some of the latest Wayne Enterprises gadgets he was working on and attacked back yelling at her to get out the house and find Bruce Wayne, since apparently he was the one who could safe him. She was smart and small enough to sneak though the hallway, wriggling out of the hands that were trying to reach her and grab her dad’s phone, frantically searching for the right number.

“Pick up, pick up, please” she tried to charm the reality.

“Wayne Manor.” Soft voice coming from the speaker made her calm down a bit.

“This is Y/n Y/L/N. We are in trouble. There are some men who are attacking us and … and we need Mr. Wayne’s help.” She spoke, her voice shaking.

“Y/N? As in Y/F/N daughter?” Of course Alfred knew who she was. Her father was the one of three people who knew about Batman’s real identity.

“Yes.” She sobbed “Please, help us.”

“Stay strong Y/N. Help is already on the way. Just… go and hide from them. Everything is going to be all right.”

“Y/N! Come on, kiddo, we have to run!” he father grabbed her hand and dragged her out to the car before she could answer. However, before they could reach the car, one of the assaulters shot right through the hood destroying the engine.

“FUCK!” her father yelled desperately.

“There’s nowhere to hide now, Y/F/N. Come on, we can make this easy. Just give us what we want.”

“I told you, it’s not here. And if even if it was then….”

“Then what? Hm? You wouldn’t give it willingly? How about I make you then? I’m sure you can be persuaded?” in a blink of an eye he reached for the little girl and put a big, strong hand on her throat. Poor girl. She was terrified.

“No! Y/N! Please, please let her go!”

“Then give me what I want.”

“It would be wise to listen to the man before you got yourself hurt.” Third voice came into the conversation getting the man’s attention.

“Oh, hello Bat. Took you long enough. Came to enjoy the show?” he smiled villainously and Y/N used his brief moment of distraction to bite his hand to the point it started bleeding and freed herself. “FUCK! You little bitch! I’m gonna kill you!”

And then Hell broke loose. Bullets were flying in different directions, punches were thrown and kicks were made. After mere minutes it was all over.

“Y/N?” Bruce tackled the last opponent down and quickly turned to the girl “Are you all right? Are you…..?” Before he could finish he saw what the girl was silently looking at. Her father’s dead body in the pool of blood “No.”

“What…. What…..” the girl trembled, not a single tear falling from her eyes.

“Y/N.”

“Why? Why did they attack us? Is it because of you?!”

“Yes.” He had to admit it, waiting for the girl to start screaming, crying and throwing a temper tantrum. Fuck, she was 12 and just lost her only parent. He expected she would act like this. This would be pretty normal. HE would know since the same thing happened to him.

“Was it because he was helping you?!”

“Yes.” She sobbed desperately, but surprisingly still held herself together.

“He…. My dad….he always talked the best things about you….. How…. How you are trying to make Gotham a better place. How… how you fight for the good people. …. And…… and if he was helping you …. That means my dad was doing something good too, right?” her teary eyes fixed straight on his and Bruce shuddered. It was like she was looking straight into his soul, reaching for every emotion hidden so deep underneath. He saw himself in this little broken girl, who was also so freaking brave.

“Yes.”

“I am angry.” She said “I am so, so angry.”

“It’s normal.” How does he even speak to a child about her parent death?

“I want to hurt the people who did this.”

“They are already taken care of.”

“Will they suffer?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“Why is it like this?” she kept asking “why does the good people get hurt all the time? It’s so fucking unfair.” Bruce raised an eyebrow. He hated to admit it but it was both scary and admirable how she kept all the rage inside. Because he knew she was raging. He was. This was going to leave a scar and she would either become a sociopath in the future or…. Someone he could teach how to make a difference.

“I….”

“My dad always said good people get hurt more often. I never understood it. Until now. I do now. But…. Does it mean I have to be bad?”

“No.”

“So will I get hurt in the future?”

“Most probably.” She might have been the first child to be so …. mature.

“I don’t want to be bad….” She whispered looking down “he wouldn’t want it.”

“No. no, he wouldn’t. “ Bruce said in reverie “Y/N.” he turned towards her once again “I promise you, I’ll take care of you. You don’t…. have to be bad.

***

“Y/N?” Alfred voice made her come back to Earth and she took a deep breath shaking the memories of what happened barely a month ago. She was still waking up at night, reliving all of that. It was almost like a hindsight, her brain only catching up what happened after a while. But, she never cried. Not even a single time. Not when one day Bruce Wayne appeared on the steps on the orphanage she was put into with the intend to take her in and care for her. It was suspicious. Up to the moment when he took her to the manor and explained everything. She just stood there, in his office, nodding her head, without any sign of any emotion on her face. That was the first moment he got a bit alerted. It was pretty scary to see a kid so …. catatonic. Especially a girl. From Bruce’s limited knowledge on the matter, little girls were always the annoying, nosy, noisy ones. But not Y/n. At first, he got in touch with the best psychologist to asses if everything was all right with her and calmed down when all of them assured him it will pass. She was just processing this in her own way, but there wasn’t any risk of her going crazy. They also mentioned her high intelligence and unusually developed skills to get inside people’s head. So, all he had to do was wait.

All the procedures, however could not be accelerated, even for the Bruce Wayne so a month passed since he could truly take a girl in. He had no idea how to work with her, but somewhere deep inside he knew they were similar and would find a way to make it work. Alfred prepared a dinner and a room for her and everyone was waiting for the limo to appear on the manor’s drive.

The only one who could not hide his excitement was Dick. He was sixteen at the time, quite in a bad place with Bruce and the thought of getting a sister, someone to mess around with was exhilarating. Of course, beforehand he had a fight about dragging another kid into the vigilante business, but all his shouting and fighting could not change a once made decision. So, instead he swore to himself, that whatever happened, he would always protect the girl. She was going to be his family after all.

Much to his surprise, he did not see a little, fragile princess coming out of the car. He saw determined, calm and collected fighter and instantly knew they would become friends.

“You must be Y/n” he smiled at her and she lifted a corner of her mouth almost unnoticeably. “I’m Dick, it’s nice to meet you. Are you hungry? Alfred prepared something in the dining room , but we can sneak some out if you want.”

“Is your name really Dick?” she asked tilting her head, big calm eyes watching him carefully almost like she was trying to x-ray him.

“Richard, actually. But no one calls me that.” He laughed and smiled a bit more

“Well, then, nice to meet you too, Dick. Robin.”

“How do you….?

“Bruce told me everything. In fact he told me too much for comfort, but I guess that’s what my life will look like from now on.”

“And you are ok with it?” Dick eyes fixed on her face, assessing the honestly of what she was saying.

“did you get any choice when you came here?”

“No. Not really.”

“Exactly. From what I’ve learned Mr. Wayne….. Bruce…. Is not really the person you can talk things trough with.”

“At this point I don’t know if I should admire your calm or be worried about it.”

“I’m fine. Or at least I will be. There’s no need to stress out about me.”

“I’ll still be watching you though.” Dick smiled

“Good luck with that.” She smirked “now, if your offer of sneaking out stands, I accept it. Is the rooftop available for the kids?” Y/N pointed up towards the little ledge

“You wanna find out? See who’s there first?”

And that was how it all started. Training, learning, night patrols.

The skills of mind playing that were her signature trail were a menace at the manor at times, especially when she was twisting Bruce’s words against him, but during the fights and missions they were heaven-send. With some internal help she learned how to use them to her (and her partners in crime) benefit and after a couple of months Bruce finally let her out on the night streets of Gotham. With Dick’s supervision of course. He also had a name for her, but she swiftly refused it, creating her own.

“Cheshire?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Dick let out a laugh seeing him like this “like …. Like the cat?”

“I didn’t know you were familiar with Disney movies, Bruce.”

“I…. I don’t…..”

“Of course you don’t . But yes, it’s like the Alice in wonderland cat. The tricky one who makes everyone go crazy.”

“Damn if that does not fit her description, Bruce.” Dick grinned and she stuck her tongue at him “I think it has a nice ring to it.”

“I don’t see it working well in this family.”

“Why? If anything, it’s Dick that does not fit. “

“Wait, what?” her brother frowned, a bit confused

“It’s simple. Robin is a bird. Bats are mammals and so are cats. Do the math, Dickie.”

“Um…..”

“Fine. Have it your way.” Bruce muttered, not able to undermine the logic between her argument and started to walk out the cave

“Do I get to choose my own colors, too?”

“Absolutely not.”

She chose dark grey. Steel-like, like the cat’s claws.

For the first time since she came to the manor she showed a bit of excitement.

However she was not happy when she woke up next morning with whiskers impainted on her face.

“GRAYSON!”

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ladyevol · 2 years

Text

Alright, so let us make this timeline:

-Wilbur Soot is born in the United States of America, in Utah

-He goes through a "normal" life until he starts working at a gas station

-He gets bored of working in this gas station and finds himself disliking his like, so he leaves in the middle of a storm

-At somepoint in the middle of the storm, he gets teleported into smash hit game Minecraft, more specifically to the Dream SMP

-He finds another block guy that calls himself Tommyinnit and befriends him.

-The two of them become extremely close. Since the SMP is ruled by americans, the very thing Wilbur was trying to escape, and with his need of self importance, Wilbur offers to start a nation with Tommyinnit, one for the europeans in the server to enjoy, away from the american rule

-Several people from the European side agree to join, including Eret, Jack, Niki, Fundy and Tubbo

-Things are going well, they build walls but Dream isn't happy. He threatens to destroy it all.

-Dream goes to war with the newly founded country, L'manberg.

-Eret betrays them during the conflict, but Dream still agrees to give them indepedence

-Wilbur makes himself president, but noticed the lack of respect from the people of his country, so he decides to have a proper election

-Several members of his country, like Fundy and Quackity decide to run for president

-Wilbur and Tommy invite famous youtuber, Schlatt to endorse them, but instead he decides to run for president himself. Quackity and Schlatt join forces to have a chance against Wilbur

-Schlatt wins the election by 1% and banishes both Tommy and Wilbur from Manberg

-Tommy and Wilbur start a new country with just the two of them and a revolution to take back control.

-Watching Fundy, his son, burn their old flag sends Wilbur's mental health spiralling down. His self hatred which is something we can see back from when he first left the gas station, has reached its pinnacle here. He needs to be important, it is why he left home, it is why he did all that he did and in true Isekai form he decides that, if he can't be the hero of this story, he will be the villain

-Wilbur starts conspiring alongside Dream to destroy all of L'manberg

-Eventually, the revolution happen and Wilbur wins. Schlatt is defeated, but that isn't enough. Wilbur sees L'manberg as corrupted, he sees people fighting once again in the distance. To him, it is all lost. He forgot the original point of why he wanted to make L'manberg, not because of power, but to help Tommy and the rest of the non american part of the SMP, so he blows it all up, all of his hopes and dreams, and asks to be killed by his own father who obliges.

-Wilbur spends several years in Limbo, during that time, L'manberg is rebuilt and destroyed two more times. While in Limbo, Wilbur reflects on everything that has happened and a ghost created by his anguish starts going around L'manberg.

-Eventually, Wilbur is brought back to life by the man who was likely his greatest enemy, Dream, who thinks Wilbur will help him with escaping prison.

-With a new chance at life, Wilbur has reflected in many things, but it is unclear how differently he is from the Wilbur that pressed the button. He thinks everyone hates him and fears him for what he did. He believes he is the biggest threat in the DSMP not knowing what has happened in the meantime.

-He starts a conflict with Quackity- or rather restarts it- regarding the new country Quackity has created. This conflict reaches its pinnacle when Wilbur, who has dragged Ranboo along with him and forced him to fight his own husband, loses the one person that had stayed by his side the whole time. He becomes the one being left behind while someone else gets killed for his actions.

-Losing Ranboo is what gets Wilbur to have a true epiphany. He realizes that his actions have hurt others more so than they have hurt himself, his ego was his downfall from the very start and it cost him people he cared about. Wilbur no longer wants to be someone important, not if it means harming those he cares about the most, and so he starts apologizing for everyone he has wronged.

-Most people accept Wilbur's apology, he does his best to help Tommy and end the hold Dream has on him and even forgives Eret. Not everyone accepts his apology, however, Fundy ends one of his canon lives in front of his father. Maybe that is what prompts Wilbur to leave, or maybe he had decided to leave when Ranboo died.

-Wilbur finishes his apogies, only truly apologizing to Tommy last, right before he leaves due to the fear of Tommy not forgiving him.

-Finally, Wilbur leaves the DreamSMP how he joined and returned to Utah, realizing he wasn't special, he didn't deserve to be anything big and trying to do so only got the people he cared about hurt. He still hasn't forgiven himself, for what, how many things it is unclear.

Conclusion: Wilbursoot's story is probably my favorite Isekai story of all time of a man tired of his mundane life. He is given the chance to be someone big, someone important, but realizes that, the price for that is to hurt the people around him. He can't go through it and gives up his dream of grandiose in order to save his friends. In the end, he chooses to be kind. I like this ending and I think it is really fitting. Wilbur could have stayed, but this story was never his to begin with, and staying would only further his control in the narrative which would get more people to get hurt.

I do have some questions however:

Is there anyone else in the DSMP who was isekai'd there? Since this is a story with all powerful gods, I think it is safe to assume those are originally from there (so Foolish, DreamXD and Techno,) we also see that people did exist in the timeline through Karl's story, would this mean that, the characters that didn't have 'ancestors' are the ones who were isekaid? Was Philza Wilbur's real father? Is he from Utah? Eret is both implied to be from Utah as well and not, what is going on with them?

Anyways, if there is anything I got wrong or missed, do let me know. I would love to talk about this

#mcyt #dream smp #wilbur soot #dream smp spoilers #spoilers

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masiethewriter · 6 days

Text

Honored Eternal Path of Demise CH. 2 - New Game

Her on the other hand Shen Qingqiu immediately recognizes. Though when her face is not twisted in rage and mania, plunging a knife into his chest, she looks quite different. Very cute, he would usually think. If he hadn't experienced her stabbing him. Multiple times. To his death. "Senior! You are here too?" She calls out to him the moment they see him at the top of the stairs. "Ning Yingying, you know who this is?" The boy asks her before Shen Qingqiu can answer. "Of course! That is Shen Qingqiu. One of the seniors that helped us when we first started. Don't you remember A-Lou?" Ning Yingying answers, confirming Shen Qingqius suspicions of who they are.

Previous Chapter ~~//~~ Next Chapter

Shen Yuan opens his eyes and breathes.

For a minute he lies perfectly still. The enjoyment of breathing without food or blood blocking his airways is something to marvel at. Who would have thought breathing is this awesome? He has never really appreciated it like it deserves. Definitely something he won't take for granted anymore.

Enjoying air going in and out his lungs is cool, but eventually he has to get up. Pushing himself into a sit, he feels much more clear headed than before. This time, he is even able to take in the room around him.

It is not the same as where he woke up last. First of all, he is laying in a bed this time. A queen size. Relatively clean. Not particularly luxurious or anything. It matches the rest of the room that is also quite modest. Wallpaper is old fashioned and loose in some spots. A garderope stands tall, wood dark. An old desk full of dust. A dirty mirror in the corner. A door leading out.

Rain splatters against the one window of the room, leaving constant noise. There is nothing to see outside it, as it is too dark.

Slowly getting out of bed, Shen Yuan experiences none of the vertigo from earlier. He feels like he just woke up from a nap, the actual restful kind. Is this how people normally feel after sleeping? Sounded fake, but awesome now that he is experiencing it. Now he can't help but feel jealous of those who always woke up like this.

The floorboards creak beneath his feet as he walks around the room. As he gets in front of the mirror, he has to stop and take a look.

He looks nothing like himself. What Shen Yuan is used to seeing is a scrawny otaku, always choosing comfortable outfits above style. Hair an unruly mess, with round glasses big enough to cover half his face. He's never been particularly handsome or stylish. Not someone that would stand out in a crowd.

The man he sees in the mirror is the absolute opposite of that. He stands tall, muscles lean though with strength behind them. Instead of the warzone his hair can usually be found in, it is parted evenly, soft locks laying elegantly against his head. He is wearing an unknown school uniform that clearly no common folk could afford. His new glasses are slender and give off the vibe of someone scholarly and intelligent.

Seeing this, the last of his doubts slither away. Instead of Shen Yuans own body, it is clear he now finds himself as Shen Qingqiu, popular stallion novel scum villain and less popular shitty video game #1 expendable character.

Allowing himself a minute of denial from his situation, Shen Yuan studies how the game developers have translated Shen Qingqiu into a character for their game.

With their modern setting they of course couldn't keep Cang Qiong Mountain Sect or any other cultivation aspects in their story. But since so many of the characters' relations rely on hierarchy, they had to find another way for everyone to be connected. So the obvious solution was of course to just do the cliche and make them all students of the same rich kid boarding school. Apparently teachers aren't popular characters, so the peak lords of the novel were turned into last year students while the disciples became first year juniors.

Just how much older were the last year students than those who just started? Never specified, so fans wouldn't be able to poke at broken timelines or complain about age differences.

So how do you turn the scholarly peak lord into an unspecified boarding school student? You make him look like a nerd of course!

A pretty handsome nerd, but Shen Yuan's point still stands.

But this is only so far he can allow himself to be distracted before he has to confront his situation. Namely that he now finds himself as the character most known for its merciless and gruesome deaths, who is only able to survive in the one, almost impossible to gain, secret ending.

Shen Yuan is not just screwed. He is absolutely fucked!

What the fuck kind of shit game is this!? Shen Yuan wants his money back, this isn't what he agreed to! If he was going to transmigrate into another world, could it be one where he wasn't going to die over a hundred awful deaths? At least in the original novel Shen Qingqiu only had to die once!

A horrific death it would take years of torture to reach, but after that it would be over!

He is vaguely able to recall what happened after he died, but before he woke up the first time. Some kind of dark void and a mission quest so obscurely worded it might as well be gibberish! Shit about misfortune and stories and lives and nothing that made any sense! Hello, anyone there? Some system that can offer the least bit of guidance in this fucked up world??

No? Nothing? Well, fuck it all then.

Okay, enough with the cursing. That is what got Shen Yuan killed in the first place and he doesn't need a repeat of that.

While a system that could help would have been nice, he got to stay positive. Since he has just been thrown into this with nothing to point the way, that must mean Shen Yuan is free to do what he wants. No rules also mean no restrictions in how he handles his situation.

Also, Shen Yuan is no noob. He has spent every day playing this game since he brought it. He knows it inside and out by now, every secret and hidden shortcut. While he will likely still be limited by certain aspects of the storyline, he is also a walking and talking cheat guide. Nothing should be able to surprise him.

Whatever his quest is, isn't really that important. What matters is that clearly once he reaches the ending of the game the quest will be completed. Which ending or what will happen after, he will find out then. Problem for future Shen Yuan. For now there is nothing he can do but play the game.

So accepting his new role as Shen Qingqiu, he finally leaves the room.

The door opens with a shrill creak, loud enough to make him flinch. He steps into a dark hallway.

It is clear that the old mansionly aesthetic is going to follow him wherever he goes. The flooring is covered by a dark red carpet, the wallpaper made to match. Candlesticks protrude from the walls, giving off an eerie glow. Shen Qingqiu doesn't bother to consider who turned them all on.

Randomly choosing a direction, he takes a quick look at the first door he passes.

Nothing stands out about it. At first it appears to be made of dark wood. But as Shen Qingqiu examines it closer, he realizes it is fake. There is no space between the edges and the wall. Almost like it has been painted on. Taking hold of the door handle, nothing moves as he tries to pull on it.

He will have to be carefull, as they look perfectly real from a distance. Wouldn't be good to try to get through a fake door if he is in a chase. But with this knowledge, he is able to pass by most of the doors in the corridor with no worry. Would be a waste of time to check if every door is fake. Not something he wants to do on his first playthrough.

Continuing through the repeating hallway he is finally rewarded by the sound of voices. Following them to a door that is actually different, decorated with elegant carvings in the wood, he opens it to a grand foyer.

Shen Qingqiu finds himself on the second floor, two huge staircases leading down to an overly decorated entrance. Old paintings with golden frames line the walls, dusty chairs and couches placed around to create gathering spots. The main door is so huge that Shen Qingqiu doubts he would be able to push it open by himself. Thick oak wide enough for 5 people to walk through at once, and at least twice as tall as any of them.

And in the middle of it all stands two figures. A boy and a girl.

Shen Qingqiu will be frank. The boy is the most handsome person he has ever seen in his life. Standing taller than even Shen Qingqiu's upgraded height, his wide shoulders and broad back shows of his natural masculinity. His uniform fits him well, jacket tied around his waist and sleeves rolled up to expose his strong forearms. He is clearly muscular, but not to an exaggerated degree. His dark curly hair is pulled back into a rough ponytail that only adds to the handsome features of his face.

In contrast to his powerful and dependable build, his face is one of kindness and slight innocence. He seems like the kind of friend you can rely on and trust. Someone who will always show support and encouragement.

In summary, he looks like someone who can win a fight if needed. And someone who gives great hugs when asked. Though out of Shen Qingqiu and the girl, it is no question who would be given which.

"Senior! You are here too?" She calls out to him the moment they see him at the top of the stairs.

"Ning Yingying, you know who this is?" The boy asks her before Shen Qingqiu can answer.

"Of course! That is Shen Qingqiu. One of the seniors that helped us when we first started. Don't you remember A-Lou?" Ning Yingying answers, confirming Shen Qingqius suspicions of who they are.

Being face to face with Lou Binghe, the fated protagonist of Proud Immortal Demon Way, Shen Qingqiu just barely manages to not run to him. Every fanboy instinct is screaming at him to tell Lou Binghe that he is his biggest fan. He is just barely able to keep in his excitement and not scream like an obsessed fangirl. Instead he keeps his face passive and blank, not allowing it to show anything.

As the two continue to whisper uninteresting exposition to each other, Shen Qingqiu descends the stairs, unhurried and with a hand gently trailing the railing.

As he reaches the bottom, Ning Yingying runs up to him, none of her expressions hiding her excitement. Lou Bingle follows, much more cautiously.

"Senior Shen, it is so good to see you! Do you have any idea where we are? A-Lou and I woke up with no memory of how we got here. I am so lucky we found each other, I have no idea what I would do if I was all alone by myself-" Ning Yingying ramples, barely pausing to breathe.

Shen Qingqiu lets her continue for a bit before he holds up a hand to quiet her.

"I just got here after waking up myself. I don't know anything either."

Disappointment takes over, the entirety of Ning Yingying's body crumbling as he blows out her hope.

"Does senior Shen have any idea of why we are here?" Lou Binghe then asks. His voice is low, but strong, exactly what Shen Qingqiu had always imagined the protagonist of his most hated novel would sound like. Being this close to his favorite character, he can't keep from internally crying with happiness for how well Lou Binghe is being portrayed. This one, this person, this protagonist is why he kept going through each terrible chapter of the novel and the entire awful game!

Externally Shen Qingqiu barely spares him a glance. Instead of keeping his focus on the teary Ning Yingying, he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Clearly someone brought us here, though for what reason we can only guess. Nevertheless we should focus on finding a way away from here."

Brightening up as if she didn't consider this obvious course of action, Ning Yingying agrees. "Senior Shen is right! If we can just get away from here, surely everything will be fine!"

"We just checked and the doors aren't locked. We were just about to go out," Lou Binghe says, continuing the expected dialogue.

Good thing Shen Qingue went through this section of the game at least a hundred times. So he knows exactly what to say.

"Hmm, okay. You go do that," he starts. "I will look for a phone we can use to call for help."

This makes the other two pause. "Senior Shen is not coming with us?" Ning Yingying asks. Shen Qingqiu pushes his glasses, taking the classic pretentious asshole stance.

"Of course not. We have no idea where this is. What will you do when you find the way out? Keep going in the rain hoping to randomly find someone who will help? And what if we're in the middle of nowhere, not a soul to be found?" With each word, Shen Qingqiu can see he kills off more of Ning Yingying's hope. Still, he has to continue. "It's better to seek out multiple solutions than rely on one uncertain one. I prefer to stay here and not get my uniform unnecessarily ruined."

Or rather, this is the game designer's lazy excuse to immediately split up the party. Characters introduced and setting presented. The job here is done, so away with the scum villain, thank you for your contribution.

Couldn't they think of a better reason to get rid of Shen Qingqiu? Even a loner like him should see it would be better to stick together. Though in actuality this was to his advantage.

"What will senior Shen be doing then?" It is Lou Binghes turn to ask, perfectly following the script. Though this is the part where Shen Qingqiu must divide from the story.

"I will start checking out the rooms here, see if I can find anything to contact the outside world." He explains, pointing towards a door hidden beneath the staircase.

Originally the real Shen Qingqiu chose to explore the upper floor, essentially leaving the story until next time he was needed. But this cheat sheet version knew where to go to find the first place of note. No reason to waste time, when he could go straight for the important items.

Ning Yingying looks at him worried, but he can’t read Luo Binghe. Since Shen Qingqiu hadn't broken character yet, he wasn’t worried about what was happening in their NPC minds. If things went according to plan, he didn't expect to see either of them for a long time after this.

"Will Senior be okay? I don't like the thought of you walking all by yourself," Ning Yingying tries one last time.

"You should worry more about yourself than others. You stick with... your friend... and he should take care of you. This one is perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

With these words Lou Binghe finally accepts his decision. Taking Ning Yingying’s hand he leads her towards the exit.

"Be careful Senior Shen! Please wait for us to come back for you!" Ning Yingying calls as Lou Binghe opens the huge doors like they weigh nothing. As the outside reveals the heavy rain, they only hesitate for a second, before they hurry along. The heavy doors fall closed, the loud bang following them ominous.

With a deep sigh, Shen Quingiu can finally relax and let his mask fall.

From the beginning he knew he had to stay in character. While it was tough to act like an aloof and prickly rich kid, he wasn't risking the consequences of acting otherwise. In a setting like this, with paranoia and insanity being the norm, you didn't act in a way that would catch people's attention. Better to stay off the radar as much as possible.

So with the others gone, he turned around, going straight for the door he pointed out earlier.

The room he entered was surprisingly cozy compared to the rest of the mansion. Rather than blood red carpets and walls with heavy shadows, here was properly lit with furniture that made it clear this was a study of sorts.

Or a safe room, as Shen Qingqiu knew it to be.

Bookshelves lined the walls, one big closet placed on one side. In the center of the room was a big desk and chair, many knick knacks placed around. The only window of the room was huge and faced an outside road that actually had a lamppost to light up the area. Besides the door was a two-person couch that looked soft and inviting.

Like commonly found in many horror games this was the one room that never hid any traps and which the monster would never randomly step into. This would also be the first room Ning Yingying would hide in after getting back to the mansion.

Shen Qingqiu knew exactly what was about to happen to her and Lou Binghe.

Originally she was meant to be the tutorial character of the game. The player would start playing as her, waking up in the mansion with no idea what was going on. Soon after she would stumble upon Lou Binghe and the two would seek a way out. Finding the entrance, they would meet the scum villain, the scene playing out almost exactly as what had just happened. Shen Qingqiu would refuse to go with them, instead heading for the upper floor, not to appear in the story for a while after.

Ning Yingying and Lou Binghe would explore the outside, basically introducing the basic game mechanics. How to interact with others, finding items, running and crouching and so on. This would continue a bit, until they finally found the gate leading away. Though at this point, they wouldn’t be able to leave for two reasons.

1. The gate would be locked with no key in sight and no alternate exit.

2. The desecrated corpse of some nameless classmate would be found, clear signs that their death had been no accident.

This is when the Killer, the first monster of the game, would spawn. Attacking the two of them, they would be forced to split up, Lou Binghe disappearing to who-knows-where and Ning Yingying having to run back to the mansion to hide. With the Killer right on her heels, she would be led inside the safe room, where the hiding mechanic would be taught using the big closet in the room.

What happened after then became more dependent on the player. This was when the game truly began and it was possible to explore freely and begin to solve the story.

To Shen Qingqiu, most of this didn't matter. Already a free soul, with no need for a tutorial, being perfectly capable of bending his knees for sneaking or picking up items with his hands, he didn't feel a need to follow in Ning Yingying’s footsteps. Rather he saw the beginning of the game as the timer for when he could no longer act freely.

Until Ning Yingying and Lou Binghe found the first corpse, the Killer should not be on the loose. So until then, he should not have to worry about surviving, but could instead concentrate on gathering items and solving puzzles. Which is why he went into this room for arguably the most important item the game had.

Going to the desk, he investigated it a bit before he found a secret compartment. Pushing it to the side, a sliding puzzle was revealed, one he easily solved. Putting the last piece in the correct spot a click was heard before one of the drawers suddenly opened. Quickly, he gathered the one item it held.

The spiritbox.

With this Shen Qingqiu could officially begin to play. He already beat the game once, gaining every single ending, no matter how challenging or impossible. He was confident that he could do so again.

Time to start a new save.

#SVSSS #Bingqiu #BingYuan #Scum Villain Self Saving System #Scumvillain #Luo Binghe #Shen Yuan #Shen Qingqiu #mxtx #Scum Villain's Self-Saving System

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tagthescullion · 3 months

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Ancestors

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: Bianca and Nico's sixth sense starts showing, Maria's not amused

AO3 link

Mimmo - Bassi's Recipe

Chapter Three: Salvatore's Grandchildren

The Secondo Capo Regia Marina Agostino Bernardi hated wakes and funerals. Nothing could make him more uncomfortable than sitting down with the family of a recently deceased person weeping for somebody they had seen twice a year at best.

Old spinsters, rich great uncles, cousins many times removed… all of them laid peacefully to rest by a herd of unwillingly involved relatives.

Agostino generally avoided these events like the plague, but unfortunately for him this time there was no way out.

A close friend of his had just lost his mother-in-law. Agostino could have thrown some excuse, apologised profusely, and spent his afternoon fishing with his colleagues. The truth was, however, that the Marchese Salvatore di Angelo had been there for every single one of Agostino’s family’s wakes and refusing would seem terribly unkind on his behalf.

There was another reason Agostino didn’t quite enjoy the prospect, and it was Salvatore’s —frankly bizarre— family.

For a person of Salvatore’s position, rumours were unavoidable. If it wasn’t his short engagement, it had been his wife’s troubles giving him sons, or his suffragist oldest daughter being seen at a protest, or his reluctance to follow the current government as it was expected of him.

But nothing, nothing, Salvatore had ever done, had made his family the spotlight of society’s villainous rumours such as his youngest daughter’s elopement and subsequent birth to not one but two children with the mysterious husband nobody seemed to know.

Whether the girl had actually married her paramour was dubious at best. Some even said the man had already been married abroad. The children used their mother’s surnames under the excuse that Salvatore wouldn’t have his grandson and heir be called an unknown, foreign name.

Whatever the case, Agostino paid no heed to such nonsense. If his friend said his daughter was married, then so be it. If his friend wanted his grandchildren to carry his family name, he saw no problem with that at all.

No. What really bothered the Secondo Capo wasn’t the children’s names or background but the children themselves.

He had seen them on several occasions. At first glance, they were perfectly normal children, brought up in a perfectly normal environment, following perfectly normal rules imposed by their perfectly normal mother and grandparents.

But first impressions seldom told the truth.

Those children were strange.

Throughout the years, Agostino had experienced strange occurrences around those kids: shadows followed them, they spoke to thin air, they would stare at the most mundane creatures with fear. Hell, Agostino was sure he’d heard them muttering in a language that had sounded like outdated Greek.

It made him shudder to think about it.

Despite his misgivings, Agostino had promised his friend he’d attend the wake, and the Bernardi family always kept their word.

It was a cloudy morning in Cessalto, but the grey overcast sky didn’t look like it would bring rain.

A humid summer had made way to a cold spring in the North and by the time he made it to Salvatore’s home, Agostino’s hands were stiff with cold.

Luckily, his friend had spared no expense in heating. The inside of the 17th century home was warm enough to make Agostino regret the extra undershirt he’d decided to wear.

Quite a few people were wandering around already; greeting acquaintances and, most likely, gossiping about whatever poor unfortunate soul had given them anything to criticise.

Agostino spotted Salvatore by the window, speaking softly to his wife, Beatrice. When he saw Agostino watching, he waved feebly.

Getting closer to them, Agostino said: “I’m terribly sorry about your loss.”

He was speaking to both of them, but his attention was on the marchesa, who was, after all, the one whose mother had passed.

She smiled insincerely and thanked him for being there. Agostino couldn’t fault her indifference to his sentiment. At his mother’s funeral, he’d been inconsolable, he wouldn’t have cared if the king himself had spoken to him.

“Mia cara,” said Salvatore, putting a hand on his wife’s arm. “The Sartoris are here.”

Beatrice gave Agostino another weak smile, and left to greet the newcomers.

“It’s a difficult time,” Salvatore explained. “Her brother and her were terribly fond of their mother… and it was rather sudden, too.”

Agostino wasn’t all that sure. He’d heard the woman was ill. But, he supposed, illnesses could hit faster than expected.

“Of course,” he said anyway. “How are your girls handling it?”

Salvatore shrugged. “Hardly girls anymore… Eleonora will arrive this afternoon. Her flight from Berlin was delayed because of the weather. And Maria—”

“Nonno!”

A small person dodged past Agostino, and slammed into Salvatore with the force of a bullet.

“Niccolino!” His friend gave his grandson a tight hug. “There you are!”

Agostino forced his face to remain casual. The little devils had arrived then.

He heard Maria’s voice calling for her son. She appeared to his right, holding the hand of her daughter, who looked to be around 7 or 8.

“Topolino, ti ho detto che no—!” She stopped when she saw Agostino. “Secondo Capo Bernardi, how kind of you to be here.”

Maria di Angelo looked a lot like her father. Her dark hair was spotlessly coiffed, she had the same deep brown eyes, and there was a certain air of authority she shared with Salvatore.

Today she looked upset, though. Red rimmed her eyes and she seemed exhausted.

Agostino nodded at the young woman.

Salvatore must’ve seen something in her expression that Agostino ignored because he held his daughter’s arm softly and told his friend: “Will you excuse us a moment, Agostino?”

Agostino stepped back to give them some privacy. He looked around to find somebody he could entertain himself with.

To his chagrin, in front of him stood the two little children.

Niccolò and Bianca di Angelo were studying him curiously.

“Who are you?” Asked the boy.

“Didn’t you hear, silly? He’s a Secondo Capo.” The girl rolled her eyes.

Agostino could see that meant absolutely nothing to the boy, who kept staring unabashedly at him.

“I’m in the navy,” Agostino explained. “I work on a ship.”

Niccolò grinned. “Like a pirate?”

Agostino frowned. “Not at all! Pirates are lawless.”

“The navy kills pirates, Nico,” Bianca scoffed. Turning to Agostino she added: “He’s always wanted to be a pirate, which is dumb because ships make him dizzy.”

“That’s rather unfortunate.” Agostino said as the boy vehemently denied such accusations.

He was mildly disturbed by the strength of the girl’s gaze. Her eyes were darker than her brother’s, and had an ethereal air to them. But she was only a child, so Agostino held her stare until she looked away.

He wasn’t sure what else to say when their conversation faded into silence, so he repeated: “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

The girl shrugged. “We didn’t know mamma’s nonna very well.”

“But mamma’s so upset!” Niccolò told her sister with wide eyes. “Her nonna must’ve been very nice before she met us.”

“She didn’t want to meet us.” Said Bianca. Agostino noticed a trace of resentment in the girl’s voice. “She only did when our nonna insisted.”

Niccolò threw a glance behind Agostino. The Secondo Capo didn’t want to pry, but he dared a glimpse too.

Salvatore had Maria in a tight hug. Her face was hidden in her father’s shoulder, Agostino didn’t keep his gaze on them long enough to make out whether she was crying or not but her distress was obvious.

“Why don’t you go with your mother?” Agostino suggested. “Tell her you’re sorry and whatnot.”

“She doesn’t like us to see her cry,” said Bianca. “She thinks we’ll think less of her if we do.”

Agostino prayed he could disappear. How on Earth did one speak with children? His own hadn’t been this demanding, had they? Admittedly, he hadn’t been around too much when they were young.

“It sounds silly, really.” Niccolò sighed. “But Bianca’s right.”

“Hmm—” Agostino bit the inside of his cheek. He scanned the room desperately. There, by the door, stood a friend from school. “Oh, look! I see an old acquaintance. If you don’t mind, children…?”

But they had run off. He gave the room a once-over but he couldn’t see where they’d gone.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The wake took its time. Salvatore was an influential man, and many people wanted to look good in front of him, making the place much fuller than Agostino had expected.

Food was served, a priest read a passage the dead woman had apparently been fond of, and everyone took turns to get close to the open casket in the parlour to pay respects.

Agostino was spooked by corpses so he opted for a less personal approach. He sent his prayers from the safety of the sitting room, and apologised to the dead woman for not breathing too close to her departed earthly body.

The crowd dimmed as the morning turned into afternoon, with only family and close friends remaining by the time the clock struck two.

Agostino sat with Salvatore, his wife, and Beatrice’s brother —il Conte Carminati—, chatting about whether Chamberlain would declare war on Germany or not.

“He’s strongly against it,” said Beatrice. “My sister-in-law says the Brits are rather divided on the matter. They don’t want another war—” Agostino remembered the marchesa and the conte’s older brother had died in the Great War, fighting in the British Army for he had married an English woman. “But at the same time, they can’t help but feel Czechoslovakia's situation is unfair.”

“But another war so soon…” Conte Carminati shuddered. “Great nations such as Great Britain or Germany wouldn’t go to war over a country as insignificant as Czechoslovakia.”

“They would if they wanted a war,” Salvatore commented. “Why do you think Germany’s been building an army for? Protection? Only a fool would believe Hitler’s objectives are peaceful.”

Agostino felt the tension Salvatore’s words caused. Adolf Hitler was on good terms with the Duce. If Germany went to war, Italy would follow soon after, no doubt.

Agostino raised his glance just in time to catch Maria and her two children walking to the parlour. Through the glass doors he saw Maria wipe a tear off her face.

The two kids shared a look.

The Secondo Capo returned to the conversation. He told the group about the intranquility in the Regia Marina. Everybody was half-expecting a war by this point, as Salvatore had explained.

As Beatrice’s brother spoke of the Regia Aeronautica and their own restlessness, Agostino saw Maria exit the parlour, minus her two blessings.

He looked through the glass, studying the children talking between themselves, heads together.

Niccolò shook his head, clearly worried. Bianca made an exasperated gesture. Whatever she was saying, it looked as if she was trying to convince her brother of something.

The boy gave what must’ve been a loud sigh, muted by the glass doors, and nodded.

Bianca put her hands on the edge of the casket and leaned onto it. Agostino hoped she didn’t put too much pressure onto one side. He wasn’t sure how strong children were, but if the casket tumbled and the corpse fell out he might scream.

What happened was much, much worse.

For a minute Agostino was distracted by the conversation again. There were talks about a meeting in Munich between the European leaders. Or some of them, at the very least. Salvatore was saying, his tone a tad too loud to be casual, that not inviting representatives of all the countries involved was as bad as straight-up declaring war.

Agostino’s eyes froze as he stared into the parlour.

One of the children was sitting in the casket. Not on, in.

Except… except it was too tall to be one of the kids.

“...absolute madness!” Salvatore exclaimed.

“It is…” Agostino whispered.

Salvatore must’ve thought he was being sarcastic. With a frown he said “It’s not a joke, you know? The Great War was supposed to solve all this petty nonsense—”

But he’d seen Agostino’s face: pale, eyes wide and unmoving, staring at…

“Ma che caz—?”

Salvatore had turned towards the parlour.

There, walking hand in hand with Salvatore’s granddaughter was his departed mother-in-law.

The old woman’s eyes were open, glassy, and unfocused. Her skin had a blue tint, dark spots marked her bare arms below the edge of her dress.

Beatrice screamed.

Il Conte Carminati fainted, slipping from the couch and falling to the floor.

The dead woman kept approaching.

Bianca sat the corpse… was it a corpse? Oddio, Agostino thought his heart couldn’t beat any louder.

Bianca sat her great-grandmother on an armchair. “Where’s mamma?”

When none of the adults replied, Niccolò said: “I told you they would be scared.”

“What’s happening?” Asked Beatrice weakly. “What have you done to my mother?!”

“Mamma was so sad,” Bianca replied. “I thought she might be happier if she could speak with her nonna again. Come on, Nico, go fetch mamma, will you?”

Niccolò sighed. “It’s your idea, you go fetch her.”

Agostino didn’t care who found Maria, he just wanted to leave this madhouse, but he was frozen to the spot by fear.

As the girl left, muttering under her breath about how lazy her brother was, Agostino looked around.

Beatrice looked like she might follow her brother’s example and pass out at any moment.

The conte was still out.

Salvatore looked shocked, but to Agostino’s chagrin, he didn’t appear quite as surprised as he should be.

“Why—? How did you do this?” Salvatore asked his grandson.

“It was Bianca!” Niccolò said, pointing at the door his sister had left through. “She can do this with cats and dogs too!”

He was obviously taken with his sister’s unholy powers. He looked very proud.

Salvatore studied his companions. Agostino wondered if this was some sort of tasteless elaborate joke.

Niccolò turned to the corpse. “I’m wearing that tie you gave me for my birthday, did you notice? Mamma said it would be nice even if you don’t like us. I think it’s too tight around my neck…”

“Oh, good God!”

Maria di Angelo had arrived.

Niccolò startled. “Mamma, guarda! Bianca made your grandmother wake up!”

Maria looked horrified, but not at all astonished.

“You don’t have to be sad anymore!” Bianca added, appearing on her mother’s side.

Maria’s eyes went to her father, then to the rest of them. Then returned to her children.

“Put her back!”

Bianca huffed. “No! She just woke up, she doesn’t want to go back into the box!”

“It’s a casket,” Maria corrected Bianca. “And she belongs there, topolina. She’s dead!”

Bianca’s head dropped. “Mi dispiace, mamma. I thought it would make you happy to have her back again.”

Maria sighed. She held Bianca’s face in her hands softly.

“Topolina, I appreciate the gesture,” she said. “I really do. But you mustn’t disturb the nature of death. Mia nonna she… she passed away. That’s sad, but it’s okay. She’s at peace now, but if you—” her eyes went to the dead woman sitting on her father’s armchair. “If you awaken her, she won’t be at peace anymore. She’ll be sad because she doesn’t belong with the living.”

Bianca nodded.

Agostino thought that all sounded rational and well-put, but there was still a bloody corpse amidst them. An actual moving dead body. He controlled his breath so it wouldn’t sound too shallow.

The little boy seemed to think around those lines too, for he said: “So… what do we do now?”

Maria turned towards him, then towards Bianca. “You can… make her go to sleep again, can’t you?”

“I don’t know,” the girl shrugged.

Agostino felt lightheaded.

“Merda,” Salvatore muttered.

His wife made an offended expression. “There’s no need to be inappropriate, Totò!”

He stared at her. “There’s a resuscitated person in our sitting room, mia cara. How exactly am I supposed to react?”

She raised her shoulders dismissively. “Without foul language.”

Agostino leaned back heavily on his couch. He wanted to close his eyes and take a deep breath, but he refused to lose sight of the dead woman.

Salvatore had a point. How were they supposed to react?

Agostino thought hyperventilating was appropriate, but it required him to force oxygen into his lungs, a task proving rather difficult.

“If Jesus could come back, why can’t mamma’s nonna?” Niccolò inquired.

“My mother isn’t God’s child, Nico,” said his grandmother.

“Of course not,” Maria rolled her eyes. “Jesus was a lot less judgemental.”

Agostino felt a chill go down his back.

Maria looked behind him, and for a fraction of a second, Agostino feared there were more reanimated dead relatives in the room, but luckily, she seemed relieved.

“Thank God,” she sighed.

“Not quite.”

Agostino turned sharply towards the new voice.

There was another man with them, but he seemed perfectly alive. Tall, pale, well-dressed in a suit so black it seemed to absorb the light of the room.

Agostino wasn’t easily cowed. He spent most of his time with powerful people. His job demanded he interacted regularly with men who could make him and his whole family disappear if he said the wrong thing, or was heard by the wrong person.

All the same, this man gave him goosebumps.

He wasn’t sure if it was the sudden drop in temperature, or the man’s general poise and appearance, but whoever he was, it was clear he wasn’t somebody to mess around with.

“You know what I meant,” Maria said. “A little help would be appreciated. This is your fault.”

The man appeared perplexed. “My fault?”

Maria didn’t look impressed. She didn’t look afraid, or even worried. Behind her exasperated expression, which still held a trace of the unease she’d felt, there was a note of fondness.

Agostino appraised the man properly.

His dark eyes were intense. An intensity Agostino had noticed on the youngest di Angelo girl mere hours ago.

Was this…? Was this the children’s father?

For a second, curiosity clouded his self-preservation and fear. His wife would be so ridiculously jealous that he had met Maria di Angelo’s former husband —or former lover, whoever he was—.

Salvatore’s stance confirmed his suspicions.

His old friend was rigid. His arms tightly crossed over his chest, and a cold, impassive façade on his face —not an easy feat, with your dead mother-in-law sitting quietly in your sitting room—.

“Somehow,” said Salvatore. “I don’t doubt it is.”

His wife put a hand on his arm. She threw Salvatore a warning look, and turning towards the man, she asked: “Can you fix this? Please?”

The man tilted his head and looked at the children. Niccolò was beaming at the sight of his father, oblivious to the tense atmosphere of the room. Bianca looked sheepish.

“Mi dispiace, papà,” she muttered.

The man sighed. He walked towards the children and knelt by their side, undisturbed by the corpse less than a metre away.

“I know,” the man told her in a soft voice. He brushed her cheek with his hand. “But you mustn’t do this again. There’s an order to life and death, and we must never distort it to our advantage.”

The girl nodded. “I was only trying to…” Her voice faded before she finished her sentence.

“I know,” her father repeated. “I’m not angry.” He took both her hands in his. “Your motives were noble, but sometimes we must accept fate, regardless of how frustrating or upsetting we think it is.”

Bianca nodded again. Her expression was as sombre, and her eyes as fierce as her father’s.

The conte groaned on the floor.

The man got up, looked at the marchesa’s brother and at Agostino, then at the corpse of Salvatore’s mother-in-law, then shook his head.

“I think you’ve seen enough,” he said without malice.

He snapped his fingers, and Agostino’s world went black.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Did you have to do that?” Maria asked her children’s father. “They’ll never believe they were poisoned by a gas leak in the radiator.

Hades leaned against the back of the sofa behind him. “Better than them believing the children are possessed by the devil, I should imagine.”

Maria huffed.

She watched Nico and Bianca, playing with a set of dominoes on her parents’ sitting room carpet.

They were so innocent. They were kind, and well-intended, but they were too young to understand so many things yet.

“Will it get worse?” She wondered. “Their… death thing?”

Hades gave her an honest look. “Yeah, it will. The older they get, though, the easier it’ll be to help them control that power.”

“So no more raising the dead at family gatherings?”

He smiled. “No, I’ll make sure to pay attention the next time you host another relative’s wake or funeral.”

“Thank you,” she said. She crossed her arms. “My grandmother always thought they were somehow unholy, now she’ll haunt them forever.”

“Your grandmother was a piece of work,” Hades argued. “The possibility of her haunting all of you was always on the table, what’s another pebble to a mountain?”

Maria stared at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“Of course I am,” he waved a hand dismissively.

“You didn’t tell me when my grandfather told Nico stories,” Maria reminded him. “Or when that aunt of mine was criticising my baking in the kitchen. I’d like a little heads-up the next time there’s wild spirits in my home.”

Hades shrugged. “What’s the fun in that? Let the children discover what they can do by themselves.”

“What if it’s dangerous?” She insisted. “What if they find a spirit, or ghost, or whatever that wants to hurt them?”

Hades took her hands in his. “Whatever they face that falls under the category of ‘afterlife’ is part of my domain. If they cannot handle it by themselves, I’ll always be there to help them.”

#hades pjo #maria di angelo #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #famiglia di angelo #pjo #riordanverse #pjo hoo toa #pjo fic #mis fics #ancestors #tagthescullion

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sturid · 11 months

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ok y’all know that spider oc I made a while ago? I edited him a bit (a lot) and decided to post it so here it is (I cannot draw so it’s just a description)

Name: Adler Lee

Nationality: Australian

Hero name: Agent Spider

Age:28

How long has he been spider-man? 13 years

Dimension: Earth-8121

Friends: Hobie, Spider Noir, Peter B, Jess (kinda), Gwen, Pav and pretty much the rest of the main cast.

Enjoys: Cooking, writing, photography, boxing, watching movies, reading, video production and sewing

Normal job: Film crew and part time bartender

Fun facts he has SPD (sensory processing disorder) and sometimes is out wearing headphones and sunglasses. He also might suddenly shut down due to it.

He also has dyspraxia but he learned how to do things in a way where he won’t get killed while being spider-man (the spider senses helped him a lot)

Another fun fact he can play the guitar and saxophone

Uranic (only attracted to men/masc presenting non binary people) and ftm trans.

Normal outfit:

Black loose fitting shorts with big pockets. (tight at waist, loose everywhere else. Looks like a trapezoid)

A thin green-brown checkered button down

maybe a white shirt under if he’s feeling sophisticated

all white baseball cap (backwards always)

dirty old converse

a bandaid on his nose and on his cheek (somehow always getting cuts there)

those 3d glasses from the movie theater (he loves them)

headphones around neck

Spider suit:

White to dark purple fade

hood

white lines all over

purple lines on the hood

triangle patters at the legs

sleeveless

blue gloves

tinted eyeholes for SPD

microphones so he can hear better (helping for dyspraxia)

physical description:

poofy light brown hair

brown skin

prosthetic left arm (i’ll get into it later

green eyes

buff

6 foot 4

thick accent (he also swears a lot and uses a bunch of Australian slang)

prosthetic arm

Good traits:

confident

respectful

Charming (ish)

easygoing

realist

stable

funny

witty

bold

flexible

cool older brother energy

neutral qualities

impulsive

stubborn

SWEARING :0

carefree

somewhat secretive

all over the place

messy

sneaky

bad qualities:

brutally honest

overly sarcastic

VERY blunt

harsh (if he doesn’t like you)

Protective

unpredictable

cunning when he wants to be

unruly

careless

habits

always rubbing shirt

cracks knuckles when nervous

rocks himself from side to side or back and forth

cannot sit right at all

somehow has everything that everyone needs like you need pads? dude has some of all sizes as well as tampons. Water? BOOM. Cold water bottles. he’s magical

never remembers whatever people say

yet he somehow remembers people’s habits and schedules

speaking of schedules he never follows one unless he feels like it or it’s his normal job

other things:

(plot hole) he either lost his right arm due to having Phocomelia syndrome which made his arm completely disappear at birth or he lost his arm while getting slammed into a building by a villain idk which yet

He’s on the olympic team for boxing and he got a few gold medals before

His canon event was his sweet Italian next door neighbor who was basically a father figure to him.

His parents were kinda trash if we’re being honest and were the reason he swears so much (learnt habit from them)

His dad was always away and hardly came home and his mother was an alcoholic, and when his dad came home (for once) they would always argue

He would usually run away to said neighbor that died because they were very comforting and cared for him.

Goes into big brother mode whenever someone younger than him gets hurt because he also had a younger brother that

Gives everyone the most random nicknames

Bro is still shocked about being bit cause DUDE LIVES IN THE AUSTRALIAN VERSION OF NEW YORK. THERE ARE SPIDERS EVERYWHERE. he wasn’t prepared

he lives in a small apartment building with 2 cats that he loves very dearly. There are plants and candles everywhere almost looks like a wild jungle.

he gives out keys to his apartment to other spider people if they need a place to stay

somehow a god at cooking

idk what it is but i have a feeling that if he died he would die from trying to protect jayden/cory or another spider person he cares about a lot from the spot

he prepares for everything when it comes to people visiting so he has a bunch of stim toys for people who need them

he knows how to copy people’s personalities surprisingly well like if he doesn’t like u because you’re cocky or something he’ll act the same way to get on your nerves because he’s petty

his universes art style is similar to super smash bros and if he was introduced to the movie it would be similar to “Agent Spider joins the party!”

bro would probably have a crush on someone in the main group like noir or something but adler would most likely die/get extremely injured before a confession

#across the spider verse #oc #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spidersona #into the spider verse #spiderverse

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azulawriting · 2 years

Text

The Fullbring arc, oh boy

Recently, I watched a video essay detailing how the fullbring arc was, in fact, the best arc in Bleach. The reasons given were somewhat compelling before I read the arc. I mean, I don’t think I could’ve enjoyed the Soul Society arc as much as I did if it wasn’t for the Substitute Shinigami arc, which still is, to me, the main reason why I got hooked on this show/manga. I daresay that the first arc of Bleach is even more enjoyable in manga format. There’s a bunch of cut content that makes it all the more addicting to me, even now.

When it comes to my impressions of the Fullbring arc in the anime, I was surprised to know it wasn’t yet another filler arc. I think that, like many others back then, ending Bleach after Aizen’s defeat was a good decision. It was the culmination of the story, and I really wasn’t sure where the story would even go after it. The Fullbring Arc was interesting as a time skip and how Ichigo would deal with being a completely normal human being while all his friends were not, but I would not have “dragged it” for an entire arc, however brief it could be.

My feelings towards this arc have somewhat changed with the manga, but not that much. I think that, in hindsight, it is a necessary arc for TYBW and it introduces a “power-up” for characters like Orihime and Chad, which will become useful for the upcoming arc. I think Ichigo’s introspection about where he would go with no powers is rather powerful, and it gets to shine a little bit more in the manga, but it is not part of my favourite arcs in this manga. Again, I don’t think the magic of the Substitute Shinigami arc will ever be reached again, though I will admit the Fullbring Arc gets very close.

I will give the manga credit where it’s due in that it made the stakes about Ichigo’s character and how poorly he could handle ever coming back to being a nobody, basically. I think it’s something not a lot of shonen manga have tackled something as heavy as “what would happen if MC lost his powers but the threats didn’t stop?”. His dependence on Ginjo and Execution built a good betrayal plotline but, and I do feel bad to say this, I don’t find any of the new characters all that enjoyable. And that’s my main issue with it. The first arc introduced a varied and interesting cast of side characters, but there’s not much of that in this arc. Tsukishima is somewhat interesting as a villain due to his power, but not much else. The same goes for the rest of Execution, who, at least to me, don’t stray too far from being tropes.

It’s a shame, really. I appreciated the flashbacks for Ginjo and Tsukishima in particular, but man do I wish we had more. Then again, that would have perhaps played against the mystery/betrayal plotline that was decently built over the span of the arc.

I don’t think I’ll continue reading the manga from this point on. I hated the Quincy arc for how rushed and outright bad it was. The anime is airing right now and I’m honestly more interested in revisiting the arc by watching the adaptation. From what I’ve heard, Kubo has the reins and will add some anime-original content to improve the arc. So far, I like the anime and I hope a certain captain does not miraculously come back to the battlefield. If he does, for any reason at all, I’ll have to wonder if the rest of the arc will be improved or just rehash the mistakes from the manga. I don’t want it to come to that.

Before I finish this post, I wanted to add one last thing. Since I mentioned Kazui in my first post ever about bleach in this blog, I do plan on making an even longer rant on the Hell chapter and my problems with it, as well as speculate as to where it could go, assuming it ever gets another chapter. I might do this old blog justice again and write something short for the Hell arc, but I doubt I will even get the time for it. We’ll see.

#bleach #manga review #fullbring #hell chapter review coming soon???

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jewpacabruhs · 2 years

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i was rlly rlly enjoying that it felt like s11-esque SP again which, my personal fav seasons are like s6-s12 n around there so i was having a blast and then that ending just. pulled down its pants and projectile-shit all over me. it wasnt bad ig it was just. gross which i mean i'd expect nothing less but. yeah idk this is my way of saying cartman nipples ruined a whole special for me. that being said tho that was. probs my fav special yet? ending aside gkfkf

cartman went back to his roots a bit and i LOVED it (pointing guns at people, correctly deducing a situation like a little genius but then drawing a wildly inaccurate conclusion about it like a little moron, I MISSED HIMM), he even bullied butters into helping him like the good ol days n the cartmanbutterstoken combo like christian rock hard made me SO happy theyre such a good trio. cartman w the two boys who call him by his first name... speaking of i love how token calls him eric even tho he hates him.

i love token sm actually he was so good in this special. hes been rlly good lately in general actually, the one good thing to come out of the weed plot has been the black family (...ahh...) getting more screentime and development. tokens highkey the stan of craig and those guys which rlly Makes the rival weed farm parallel bc theyre both just. the normal ass kids next door dealing w insane bullshit. i LOVED his compassion for the little. chuck chuck creature it reminded me of the goonies and it was cute. cartman scoffing in the background was funny but it was rlly sweet n did remind me a lot of goonies which. childhood nostalgia always good. also im a child and the thing squirt-shitting made me laugh KGFKFK toilet humor will always get me bc im a 8 yr old boy ig

it was cool to have an overarching villain again i do think SP handles narratives with like. Big Bads well? idk i never see it praised but i personally enjoy those plots and i liked how it was done here. tho this is a bit morbid, the, er, conclusion of pipi's story reminded me of that ummmmm verruckt incident in kansas (if u kno u kno; if u dont and u google, sorry) and it made me wince. im sure it wasnt intentional but my macabre lil mind drew the parallel n i cringed fff. but i enjoyed the rest of that story

and oh my goodness it was nice to see south park shit on celebrities again FKFKF like TRULY getting back to its roots. felt like classic sp mockery i loved it a ton

ummm what else. OH RANDY oh my lord. when he went back to normal i was like. holy hell i missed this. tht was nice to have back. modern randy can be plenty funny but he's overwhelmingly annoying and played out and the meta behind his plot made me wonder if m&t agree w that sentiment? ik they started using randy as a mouthpiece for themselves once they hit. 40 or 45 or whatever idk when it started but them acknowledging the weed shit was played out (when previous recent eps had had more of a "haha we know u hate the weed shit and WE DONT CARE LOL!!!" stance) was kewl. ik randy reverted by the end but im hoping maybe smth might carry over. and it was nice to see the marshes being. normal n supportive n smiling again. i dont rmr the last time i saw sharon smile ;( and the sacrifice stan made of letting randy do what he needed to do... he sounded so sad. he'd only jus got his dad back. man i luv stan hhh poor kiddo

the karen shit actually made me laugh i thought it was funny. i don't hav any deep thoughts on it it jus amused me

ummm anything else. oh the fucken. cartmans boobs fkfkf just the boob physics. the way they bounced i was so distracted by them FKDKFK that was cursed but also real af tbh

ok thats all goodbye til more sp content luvs

#sp spoilers #mine #txt

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gh0stchoir · 1 year

Note

Filo sat in her room, scribbling away in her notebook. It was filled to the brim with theories about others. Those who's title he had highlighted in green were those she had been correct with, red highlighter meant she had been wrong. Over the years and many of these books, the green had started to be more and more dominant. With the villains on the plan now, new theories had come up. And right at the moment, she was sitting on two. One about Tomura Shigaraki and Alll for One, and one about Tao, his mother and All for One. She deeply hoped both theories would be wrong. Which was funny, given conspiracy theorists always wanted to be right. Yet these horrible things should be wrong, and if only to protect the men they were connected to. Because if she was right, then Tomrua would be betrayed and used by the man he saw as Sensei and like a father, while Tao had been lied to his whole life, being robbed a normal childhood. She sighed, putting the book down and creating a small cloud over her hand. That was also a thing.

No one but Oboro Shirakumo could be her father. Not with every evidence of appearance and quirk being so obvious. Yet she was too old to be his daughter. He died when he was seventeen, and she knew her mother had been seventeen as well back then. She had seen pictures of her mother at age fifteen, and at age seventeen, she knew in which her mother looked pregnant. It was so weird. Had everyone lied to her? Were her parents both so irresponsible to not use protcetion at age fifteen? It was the only possibility that seemed plausible. But then that would mean her father had known of her existence, he must have! If only she could ask him if he really hadn't been there, or if she had just forgotten from infantile amnesia. Filo sighed again, picking up her phone, scrolling through apps. Why was this one of her biggest problems? Why couldn't she be a normal teen and have her crush be her main concern?

The night had been a rather joyful one. They played the new game Sero had bought and enjoyed it, and after played other multiplier games. The group was a joy to be around, Tao found out even more. Although anytime he would glance over to Bakugou, the boy seemed irritated. He felt bad. Had he ruined the night? He didn't know, and didn't want to ask. He ended the night with leaving Sero's room, giving goodbyes and thank yous to them. When he finally got to his room, he smiled at the new contacts of the Bakusquad. All excluding who the group was named after.

Tao sat on his floor, pulling out work he still had to study for. Never in his life did he think he was going to be studying for school. Or take it seriously. He'd been getting good grades, surprising to him. He thought about the idea of getting to be a pro hero. He knew it was just a pipe dream. The League and AFO wouldn't allow him to become one. He also probably couldn't handle being a pro hero. He wasn't one, he knew it. His family were with the villains. His friends were with the heroes. He was torn. He didn't want to betray either, although he was technically already betraying his friends. He whined, resting his head on the table. He didn't want to think about the day he would have to tell all of his friends he was a villain, a traitor.

#ace—♡

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

split

— Shouto becomes victim of a quirk accident. In that he become two people who get along as well as fire and ice do. They clash at every moment, and only seem to agree on one thing: their love for you. Or in which Shouto gets split into two by a quirk that spilts chimeras and in order for peace to be found you find yourself in a threesome with two halves that make the one you love most.

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pairing: split!todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, threesome, split!shouto, anal, double penetration, blowjob, rimming, cunnilingus, cursing, degradation, praise

word count: 8,930

a/n: LMAOOOOOO this waas actually fun to write the names I gave them were super easy because I am uncreative. I used an anons rec for shoutos hero name: reisho so that’s what that is. and thank you to my lovely canasian for finding the original drabble I wrote. pls enjoy!

kinktober day 6 main kink: threesome

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“What’s going on?”

It was a series of words that often came out of your mouth because, as a Pro Hero, there were many times where you had no idea what was going on. It usually ranged from asking why Kaminari and Kirishima were giggling and avoiding your gaze when you walked into a room to coming onto an active battle where Bakugou and Midoriya were bloodied and crazed. There was nothing off-limits to those words, as they were, after all, said in complete confusion.

“Where is he?!” you tried again, watching as nineteen different eyes look everywhere but at you.

However, it was without given when you watched your twenty -- wait, was that twenty-one? -- former classmates both stumble into one another as they turn to face you.

“Y/l/n-chan!” Mina squeaked, stepping up from the crowd, trying to cover up the two people in there that you couldn’t quite recognize as your classmates. “How was patrol? I heard that Todoroki-kun left you midway!”

You wished that last comment didn’t make your cheeks burn as intensely as it did.

Today had been one of the rare days that you had gone off on your route with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shouto. Both of you watched the busy streets and whispering between yourself as you avoided the masses, not wanting to get caught up with fan interactions that were rather unneeded. But there had been a large altercation that required Shouto’s expertise. Specifically, the voice at headquarters commanded that you stay on patrol while Shouto would leave. So you had watched as Shouto placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb softly petting your cheek, his smile warm.

“I’ll be back,” he had promised before taking off in a mist of ice and fire.

You continued the rest of your patrol with a rather childish pout on your face, you hadn’t enjoyed being sidelined like this, but you calmly assessed the situation. It probably wasn’t a fight you would be much aid in, and there was never a reason to send more than enough heroes onto a single area. But your route was coming to an end, and Shouto had still yet to reappear. Trying not to overthink it, you frowned while passing a store with TVs out in front.

Staring at the bright, flashing screen, you suddenly felt a sense of panic at the headliner: Chimera Quirk-Wielding Villain Apprehended by Pro Heroes Froppy, Pinky, and Reisho. (slight injuries on the hero team.)

With concern pitting up horribly in your stomach for your friends and boyfriend, you finished your assignment as calmly as you could, before finally getting to rush back to your agency. You had taken to the rooftops to get there as quickly as you could.

Through all that, you found yourself right where you had been in the beginning, staring at Mina, who despite the few scrapes of dirt and soot on your costume, looked normal. Your eyes glanced over at Tsuyu, who, like Mina, was unharmed -- which left Shouto.

“Something strange happened during that battle,” Momo spoke up, her face set with concern, her eyes, although not horrified, was definitely a bit at a loss for an explanation.

“Wha--?”

“The person we fought against could make chimera’s out of people, but the limits of their quirk meant that once they made a chimera, they couldn’t add more to the creation,” Mina explained, her head nodding as she looked from Momo to you. Her fingers were tugging at her pink curls, and you tilted your head.

“Is Shouto still smashed together with someone or something?” you asked, a bit hesitant to see what potentially horrific creation your boyfriend could have turned into. “I’ve seen Shouto show up home after the poop-villain fiasco, I swear I won’t cry if he’s ugly!”

“Well, no, kero,” Tsuyu frowned, her finger pressing to her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Mina-chan and I were a chimera for a bit, and the quirk has a limit when they make a chimera.”

You didn’t like how that was worded.

“Just fucking show her the idiots who threw the match!” Bakugou snapped, his eyebrows furrowed as he shoved the crowd away in the middle, parting them like Moses did the red sea.

Idiots? You thought, your confused expression growing as you looked from Bakugou’s frowning face onto what they had been hiding from you.

And you instantly understood why when you were greeted with two heads. One entirely redheaded, the other entirely white-haired, each with identical faces who looked at you with the same tone to their eyes.

“You see, their quirk can also separate chimera’s, and well… I — we, guess that Todoroki-san is one,” Momo informed you as you stared at opposite replicates of your loving boyfriend. “The villain said they’ve never split a natural-born human chimera before, it had been their first time, so the lasting effects of the quirk are unknown.”

The redheaded Shouto still sported a scar on his face, but he felt completely different. His face was cold, stare distant, and burning with a suppressed, denied fury that you couldn’t recognize on him outside of a battlefield. But even with the cold look encompassing his body and stature like a thick sheet of ice, when he looked at you with his set of two burning turquoise eyes, you knew his feelings for you were still the same.

The white-haired Shouto had no scar, and he looked much closer to the man you knew currently, except maybe a bit more open? His face quipped into a smile, his eyes swimming with mirth, joy, and content with finally seeing you here, all good emotions but emotions you weren’t used to him exposing to the public like this. But even with the warm, loving look burning softly around him, his set of grey eyes shone with feelings you knew were true.

“My boyfriend is split into two?!”

There was something wrong with that sentence, something that carried heat because the moment you said those words, both Shouto’s seemed to freeze next to each other. Icy and fiery glares meeting in an electric firestorm as Deku promptly dragged you out of the room with Momo and Mina. You struggled against Deku’s iron grip, only seeing white-haired Shouto’s jaw drop in the beginnings of a speech while redheaded Shouto glowered at him with all the intensity he could muster.

“Y/l/n-san, we need you to never, ever mention that they’re the same person,” Deku immediately spoke as soon as the door between the hallway and the room where the Shouto’s were closed. “He’s — they’re — not handling that information very well, and are acting rather… immature about who the real ‘Todoroki-kun’ is.”

“They’re not connected by the same mind?!” you spluttered, your own mind feeling like it was split down the middle at the hypothesis that your boyfriend was both of these men, but none of them. “So, it’s like a split personality manifesting completely?”

“We’re a bit sure on how to compare it to something such as dissociative disorder,” Momo spoke calmly, undoubtedly her mind working a mile a millisecond to make sense of the strange predicament you all were in. “He’s been in here for some time now. And from what we’ve managed to question from him, both parts of Todoroki-san remember everything. It seems they differ in just how they felt about it on an emotional basis.”

You blinked once, twice.

“Do you mind giving me an example?”

Goddamn idiot you were.

“Well, I guess the bigger emotional differences were during our high school years,” Midoriya mumbled, his fingers pinching his lower lip in thought. “A good example would be why he challenged me during the sports festival. Redhead Shouto said he did it because he hated Endeavor so much back then he was willing to prove his strength no matter what. White-haired Shouto says it was an overreaction on his own part and that he’s truly sorry.”

You frowned.

“It almost sounds like if Todoroki-san’s quirk had been only one of his parents, and his two halves are insights to the life he would have led if he had only one,” Momo offered a pursed stare. She didn’t seem too sure of her conclusion, but for you, it was enough.

“Honestly, you were the only one I saw both Todoroki-kun’s act the same toward!” Mina exclaimed, her hands grabbing your shoulders as she leaned in close, a sly grin on her face. “It’s like the two of you are destined lovers, no matter how the world is!”

“Mina!” you whined, feeling utterly embarrassed as she snickered loudly, her eye falling into a wink before straightening up.

“Alright, so just a recap: don’t mention which one is the ‘real’ Todoroki,” Mina warned, already moving back into the room.

“What do we call them then?” you whispered, feeling not at all prepared to stare at two, stupid hot versions of your same boyfriend.

“Ah-ha, well,” Midoriya smiled embarrassed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you all walked back in. “Only Kacchan brought up a nickname so far.”

“YOU STUPID FUCKING RED HALF!” Bakugou’s voice roared the moment the door opened, and immediately, you were pulled back into the mess of the situation. “I’LL MURDER YOUR ASS!”

“Someone was clearly not raised on manners,” came the snide remark from Shouto’s white half, and you watched on in horror as your old male classmates worked together to hold off all three rambunctious boys to keep from fighting.

“LET GO OF ME, SHITTY HAIR! I’LL GIVE THEM BOTH NEW SCARS IF THEY KEEP ACTING LIKE THIS!”

But you stared at the apathetic face on Shouto’s red half, his eyes somehow empty, dull, and angry as he glared at Bakugou.

Red half.

Red.

You looked at Shouto’s white half that was grinning at the challenge, icy frosting off his body akin to the explosions on Bakugou’s fists as he egged him on.

White.

That would be easy enough.

You snorted, before walking forward, grabbing your boyfriend(s) hands in yours, and they quickly turned to look at you. Their gazes turning warm and full, their demeanor utterly different as the raging Bakugou faded into the background.

“So, I’m sure you both know what’s going on at the moment,” you spoke clearly, just loudly enough to be heard over the popping explosions on Bakugou’s palms. “I also know you’re both confident in who you are, but the truth is you both have the same name, so we’re going to need a new thing to call the both of you. Is that okay?”

“Ah, I see,” white-haired Shouto nodded, his hand tightening around yours, his thumb running along the backside of your palm. “You will continue to call me Shouto, and we will call him, the Imposter.”

Wait, what?!

“I’m not the imposter,” redheaded Shouto rolled his eyes, taking the hand he held up to his lips, pressing a gentle, warm kiss to your knuckles — it contrasted chillingly with the cold, aloof tone he continues to have with his white half. “I am, after all, the one with the facial scar. It is the most recognizable feature of me. Clearly, you’re the imposter.”

You had to ignore the way your stomach fluttered and how your cheeks exploded in heat as both Shouto’s were suddenly kissing your knuckles. They only went further after leaving warm, chilling kisses on your skin. For they pulled you closer by your waist, a physical challenge between the two to claim you. Even though they both were for you.

It was only made worse by the wide-eyed, cheek splitting grins, and spluttering noises made by your old classmates who relished in this rom-com type embarrassment.

“Oh my god, enough!” you squeaked, trying to shove both overpowering men away from you.

“See, you’re being too much,” white-haired Shouto snapped, ripping you from redhead Shouto’s hold.

“Let. Y/n. Go.” redhead Shouto growled, hand exploding with fire, and you wrestled yourself out of white-haired Shouto’s hold to press your palms flat against each of their chests.

“You both better calm down right now, or else I’ll send you off with our friends until you’re back to normal!” you snap, your cheek radiating with explosive heat. With the threat heavy on their minds, redhead Shouto took away his flame, and white-haired Shouto took a less defensive stance. Relieved with their current treaty, you thrust a finger at both halves, looking between your way too amused classmates and your boyfriend(s). “You will be called Red--” you jabbed redheaded Shouto with your finger-- “and you will be White!” you spoke clearly, tapping white-haired Shouto with your other finger.

“Am I understood?”

Silence.

You glared at your boyfriend(s) who were staring down at you with wide eyes and gaping jaws.

“I said, am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” your boyfriend(s) sputtered.

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Highlight of Day One of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Where is Red going to sleep?” White asked as you settled into the, thankfully, large bed the two -- now three -- of you shared. “On the floor?”

The bed had been a present from Endeavor when Shouto had moved into your apartment with you. It was much bigger than anything you owned, and while you hadn’t been fond of the length and stretch of the bed, you indeed were grateful for it now.

“Y/n likes to be warm when she sleeps,” Red duly noted, glaring at White the entire time it took him to crawl onto the right side of the bed. He settled right by you, arm wrapped around your waist, chin grazing against your temple. “You sleep on the floor.”

“You need comfort to stay beautiful, and since you’re eliminated from being that because of the scar on your face, you can sleep on the floor!” White countered while reciprocating the same position Red was doing.

Red’s eyebrow twitched at that before his glare soured and became icy cold, “I have the bigger co--”

“Both of you shut up now!” you snap, the palms of your hands shoving their faces away from one another. You were feeling more like a mother to a pair of troublesome twin toddlers than the girlfriend of your boyfriend(s). “I don’t want to hear it!” you groan as both their jaws dropped to attempt to speak their mind. “If you can’t shut up and sleep, I’ll sleep on the floor!”

“No!”

“Then shut up, love me more, and let’s go to bed!”

…

“You don’t have the bigger cock--”

“Oh my god!”

“Please don’t go, my love, White is an idiot.”

Highlight of Day Two of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Well, this is certainly an interesting thing to be experiencing,” Rei’s gentle voice filled the room as both Red and White sat at her sides. Neither one of them touching her, but their gazes warm and soft for their mother. Rei touched the cheeks of both her son(s) and sighed softly before returning her attention to you. “Has it been hard? I do hope they’ve been behaving themselves.”

You smiled in hopes it would help to hide the grimace on your features as you laughed.

Just this morning, the two of them nearly burned down the kitchen while trying to outperform one another in making you breakfast in bed. It was of ample notice to realize that just one Todoroki Shouto was not to be trusted in the kitchen, but putting two Todoroki Shouto’s in there had caused them to somehow burn water and melt the stove.

The eggs they managed to pull together were burnt yet undercooked and had eggshells in them.

It wasn’t the worst meal you’ve had fun enough.

“They’re doing just fine,” you lie, your smile warm at the woman you would hope to one day become your mother-in-law. “Just a bit odd to deal with two people when I’m so used to one.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. In fact, they initially saw Shouto was to be twins, but he absorbed the other one in the womb,” Rei admitted, a small laugh on her tongue as she politely covered her mouth, her eyes closed in her mirth. “A bit funny how it seems like this could have been the outcome of that life.”

You feel a cold sweat drip on the back of your neck as Red straightens, his eyes darkening as he makes contact with Rei’s arm, and fear thrums through every fiber of your being.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes, Shouto?” Rei asked, her warm grey eyes taking in Red’s gloomy form.

“White called me ugly.”

Highlight of Day Three of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“My love, I’m not feeling too well,” White groaned on the couch when you first arrived home.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for you, you were still being cleared to work during this time of split Shouto. After a much-needed relatively short time away from home, you had returned after a patrol to a clean apartment living room and Red sitting on the singles armchair, and White sprawled on the couch.

You froze, Shouto hardly ever got sick! His internal temperature was always so in tune to the things around him that no virus, bug, or bacteria ever managed to infect him with sickness. For all five years of knowing him, you had never once seen him sick.

“Oh my god!” you panicked, rushing to remove your coat and shoes as you ran over to the couch to feel his forehead for a temperature.

He was running a bit cold, as he always did on his right side of his body, so you internally freaked about if this was normal or not! Your Shouto always had a specific spot on his forehead that was considered normal, but this was not your normal Shouto.

You were fucked, so wildly fucked.

“Are you okay? What do you need? I can go get you a blanket. I’ll get some soup going! What medicine do you think you need?!”

“There’s…” White trailed off in his exhaustion, his hands rubbing his face in probably his sick delirium. “There’s only one thing that will help…”

“What is it?” you asked, leaning in closer to him so that his flushed lips were centimeters from your ear.

“I need... “ he trailed off, and you leaned in closer, only to be suddenly trapped in his arms and pulled on top of him. “Some one-on-one time with my beautiful girlfriend!”

The scent of burning leather filled the room.

“WHITE PUT IT OUT! PUT OUT THE FIRE!”

“Princess, I’m not feeling good.”

Good fucking grief.

Highlight of Day Four of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot.”

“Cold.”

“Hot!”

“Cold.”

“The store has both!” you sobbed, your boyfriend(s) adopting their possessive hugging on your body while out in public as you had attempted to get them out of the house because you thought that maybe, just maybe, they were feeling stir-crazy.

“But we always share our soba noodles, y/n,” Red looked down at you, tilting your chin so that you could look at him clearly. “I know you love cold soba more.”

“We get it, Ice Princess, daddy hurt your feelings, and now you still hate everything hot! Get over it; y/n always buys hot soba when you’re not around.”

“G-Guys,” you whimper, suddenly feeling drowned out with the clashing of ice and fire personalities around you as the crowd watched on in bemusement. “Please stop.”

They suddenly both turned on you, their eyes narrowed, faces fierce as they both exclaimed at the same time: “Which soba do you like better?!”

You’re too exhausted of them to even scold them like you had used to anymore.

In the end, they tried to settle it via arm wrestling, which resulted in a horrible tie. They had both tried to use their quirks to win, somehow forgetting in the heat of their battle that their quirks not only canceled each other, but their strength was painfully equivalent.

Highlight of Day Five of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

To be frank, you missed kissing Shouto.

With them being the way they were and how horribly chaotic they acted, you knew if you kissed one, it would lead to them both impregnating you and slipping an engagement ring on your pretty ring finger well before you were ready for either one of those things. So instead, you stared at both of their equally perfect lips.

Full, slightly pouty pink lips that were somewhat chapped as they always were due to his quirk elements. Full, soft lips that you had felt pressed to your hands and cheeks for the past five days, and yet you craved it to be pressed against your lips, but that was undoubtedly dangerous.

But you continued to stare at Red’s lips, at White’s lips.

You liked seeing how their teeth exposed themselves when they smiled, or how he had barely formed dimples on his cheeks, the smile lines that had finally formed on his previously smooth face. You liked seeing the way he bit on his lower lip when he held his tongue, or how his tongue seductively swiped his lips when he caught you staring.

Wait—?!

You snapped out of your daze, staring at the suggestive, all too pleased look on White’s face as he leaned in close to you while Red was busy performing his daily workout routine.

“You want to fuck while Not-the-real-Shouto’s busy? He won’t know, I promise.”

You flush.

“No!”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It was day six of split Shouto when you woke up.

Your eyes stinging with exhaustion as you stared up at the ceiling as bodies of ice and fire sandwiched you between them. They snored softly, breathes deep and full in perfect harmony as they slumbered. You hated Shouto. You hated him so much.

This could have been a fantastic experience in your fantasies. Cloning quirks were a thing, and often you would hear about the sexual endeavors many partook in while in the company of someone with such quirk. It seemed like so much fun. Someone existing solely to be fucked, replicated from someone you already trusted.

It seemed perfect.

But here you were. Living the life of many porn fantasies, but the clones — not clones — hated one another. You couldn’t even so much as breathe next to one of them for too long before the other came to rip you away, annoyed, and ready to reclaim you. They were behaving as if you didn’t already belong to them.

Maybe you could have handled the lack of horny, lusting out of your mind sex if they had simply allowed you to kiss them without starting a war. But they claimed they would rather die than see you kiss someone that wasn’t them (singular them).

So, you were struggling.

The internal struggle only grew when they woke up at the same time. Growing when they both exposed their scarred, perfectly muscled, and toned body. It grew when they pressed their sinful body against yours, and you could only look up at them with eyes like a full moon, heat wet in your panties. You wanted something to happen because watching them go at it again for the fifty-third time today suddenly made your mind snap.

Since they wouldn’t seem to quit fighting, you might as well be fucked while they fought amongst themselves. You were a big girl, you could handle two cocks around your body.

At the moment, you were in the communal kitchen living room area. You sat at the table, trying to enjoy your cup of tea while they stood a few strides away from you… arguing.

“Would you both put those mouths to better use than fighting with each other?!” you finally snapped, your hands tugging at the roots of your hair after you placed down your cup of tea. They had been fighting for the past hour as to whether or not Shouto’s first costume idea was created because of Red or because of White.

Neither one of them claimed responsibility on that one funny enough.

They fell silent immediately. Both their eyes wide, brows furrowed, and jaws gaping like a fish as they tried to separate their conversation from what you just said.

“Better use?” Red stated, his blink slow.

A curling, devious smirk spread on White’s face, “Oh, did my love finally cave to being fucked?”

“I didn’t think you would be into cucking,” Red admitted, his own smirk growing on his face while White frowned and glared at him. “What? It’s obvious it would be you tied up, White. You can’t expect y/n to trust either one of us to sit there, so she’d tie us up. My fire would easily destroy the bonds.”

Ah yes, how could you forget that they’d adopted only one half of the one quirk Shouto possessed. Now while you definitely wouldn’t mind cucking both sides of Shouto at some point, that wasn’t what you were craving at the moment.

“Y/n loves ice trailing down her body, I can definitely satisfy her better!”

“Like I said a few days ago, I have the bigger cock, so shut up and watch us.”

They were going to drive you insane.

Standing up from the table, the chair screeching against the floor as you did so, their attention fell on you. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks, your heart fluttering in your chest as turquoise and grey eyes that you could read like nothing gorged into your form.

You settled between them, feeling dwarfed between their taller, muscled forms. Red was in a white t-shirt and sweats, White in a black shirt and dark jeans. You were unsure as to why you felt so shaken when you pressed your fingers between the valley of their pecs, your tongue heavy in your mouth. You blamed it on the six-day dry-feast the idiots put you in, and the mere thought of finally getting your way was exhilarating.

“This is what’s going to happen,” you say with no room for arguing, your gaze meeting theirs through your eyelashes. “We are all going to fuck. There’s three of us, and I’m the one who wants to be satisfied, so this will be a threesome. Fuck me any way you want, I don’t care, but whoever starts fighting first gets cucked.”

Red is staring at you with his piercing turquoise eyes, White’s gaze dropped to your tracing finger on his chest. But the consensus was the same.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A warm, fluttery smile breached your face, and you nodded.

“Good… now, fuck me.”

They begin almost immediately. Two initially contradicting forces of fire and ice abandoning their internal surge for power to appease and please you. There’s no stopping the shiver and the moan trapped in your throat when two identical sets of hands you knew and craved the touch of finally made contact with your body. Red’s hands were on your breasts, groping and massaging your mounds of flesh while his mouth pressed tantalizing kisses along the curve of your neck, along the length of your clavicle.

White had dropped down, his mouth pressing hot, kisses against the flesh of your thighs and your ass. His fingers pushing the sleeping shorts you still wore, his calloused fingers brushing against your clit.

You openly moaned, hands pressing against both White and Red for some form of support.

“You’re already so wet,” White groans his observation, his finger slicking itself against your wet folds.

You shake, your head nodding in full understanding as you began to rotate your hips against his finger. Of course, you were so wet, you thought, goosebumps flashing against your entire body when Red pinched your nipples through your light tank.

“You try living with two of me and be denied every physical need,” you gasped, your voice pitching the moment Red’s teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck the same time White’s finger curled within your walls. “Fuck…”

“It’s so cute when you whisper like that,” Red noted, his hands lifting your breast, tongue smoothing over your irritated skin. “I bet you didn’t mind our quirk accident because you wanted something like this.”

Now that was definitely something you couldn’t disagree about.

But with the way your body was so desperately deprived and how there were two sources of knowledge on you. Knowing the perfect sensations on your sensitive parts of your body, you pushed them away.

Grey and turquoise blazed into your skin, but you huffed, grabbing them by the hands and pulling on them.

“I want the bed,” you affirm, your cheeks feeling warm, your eyes keeping on theirs. “We’re fucking on the bed.”

“Of course, my love,” they responded together. And the heat in your body seemed to multiple when you pushed through into the room.

Guiding them into the bedroom, you didn’t release their hands until they were sitting down onto the bed—Red on your right, white on your left.

Their stares are expectant, already clouded with horny, lustful need when you let go of their hands. Before they could ask what was next, you leaned in, opposite hands pressing to each of their crotches, and they both groaned lightly in their chest. You palmed them through their clothes, your cunt throbbing with the fact that you enjoyed watching their hooded, lusting expressions bore into your figure. Biting down onto your lower lip, you stopped a tethering moan from escaping when both their hands grabbed onto your ass.

They fondled the flesh as you continued to palm them, the cock buried within their clothes growing harder and larger with every quick movement of your hand. They both were so hot and dangerously heavy hidden away in the confines of the pants, and you wanted nothing more than to be choking and stuffed full of them both.

But you don’t get your way just yet.

“On the bed,” Red suddenly commands, and you stop a squeak from embarrassingly ripping from your throat. You stumble on the large bed, and both Red and White shift so that there’s enough room for you to be perched between them. Ass on Whites side, face on Red’s, and you feel your body freeze when everything picks up speed.

White’s lips are on the back of your thigh, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive skin while his fingers take up rubbing your cunt again. Your body trembles under his ministrations, hips shifting, and bucking against him as he once again buries his fingers into your blistering core.

But with the moans singing from your lips, you felt transcended. The way that your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each shift of White’s fingers proving that point, you focused in on Red, who had shoved your breasts over the hem of your shirt. You whimpered loudly when his fingers pinched at both nipples, tugging at the pebbled flesh.

“Such pretty noises,” Red whispered, his nose brushing against yours, and you throbbed with the need to be kissed. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “Please give me more, more, please.”

Red inhaled sharply, his eyes blazing like blue fire before finally, he crashed his lips against yours, unable to hold back anymore, and you cried in glorious acceptance. You kissed Red back with everything you had. Your lips slick with your joining, mixing saliva while he continued to press bruising, heated kisses to your mouth. Your hands at one point had attached themselves onto his biceps, and you found your fingernails to be digging through his skin, but Red didn’t care.

He continued to play with your hanging, sore tits, his tongue entering the barricade of your mouth as he kissed you again, and again, and again.

His name spilling from your mouth until you froze, your back tightening the second something more was happening behind you.

White’s finger, covered in the slick of your essence, was probing through your ass all while he continued to finger fuck your cunt.

“Aw, you do like it when my finger goes into your ass!” White chirped, his finger pressing further past your tight rim, sending your mind into a flurry of thoughts and feelings at the sensation of being stretched out, while you collapsed onto the mattress. Red abandoned you. “Your ass always looks so fucking hot when it takes in my finger. It’s like it's sucking me back in whenever I try to pull out. So. Fucking. Hot.”

You could do nothing but choke out White’s name the second the finger curled in your ass and the fingers buried in your cunt came together to press between the thin wall separating the two cavities, and you keened at the feeling.

“White!” you yelled, your eyebrows furrowed in your pleasure, your hips bucking back against his hands. “More! I need more!”

It was at that moment his fingers abandoned your holes, but before you could cry at the loss, Red was back in front of you, naked as the day he was born. But his cock was hard, pressed against his stomach, standing tall and erect for you to suck.

“Come on, angel,” Red spoke, tilting your chin up so that he may press another sizzling kiss to your mouth. “Play with my cock.”

Still, on your knees, your back arched, mouth entirely occupied with Red’s mouth, your hand blindly grabbed his cock and began to jerk him off. You kissed him harshly, thoroughly, not wanting to let him go without exploring and feeling every little thing you could offer while you run your hand up and down his length.

You fully moaned into his mouth when his fingers lightly brushed against your neck, showing how sensitive you are. He runs his hand all the way down to your hips and latches onto your ass cheek. You mewl against him, wondering just why he was doing that when something hot and wet pressed against your cunt.

Breaking off the kiss immediately, you turned around to see White’s face buried into your ass, but his tongue was meeting your cunt with every languid lick.

“Shit!” you curse, your hips bucking and moving to better find White’s tongue against your core. But before you could find your spot, his tongue abandons your cunt and presses back against your tight, tight rim.

Trembling, your eyes roll to the back of your head, all while Red reclaims your lips.

Your hand encompassing his cock began to pick up in speed as White seemed to interchange between tongue fucking your ass and cunt. Whimpering needs only resonated from your mouth into Red’s as you jacked him off sloppily, messily at heightened speeds while you begged for more.

It didn’t take long before they both pulled away from you, and you in your heat daze, teared up as you watched both Red and White step onto the floor, their twin, identical cocks out, leaking with precum that called your name. You didn't need to be told what to do at this point as you stumbled out of bed, falling to your knees right between them.

With Red’s cock in your left hand, you pulled him into your mouth, your right hand expertly, yet blindly jerking White off. You pushed your head as far down as it could go along Red’s cock, your eyes trying to keep on his the entire time.

Relishing in the fact that his cock went unchanged, your tongue swirled around Red’s cock, your head bobbing along his length, and Red smirked down at you, pressing the tears in your eyes away. Pulling away with a string of saliva connecting his head to your lip, you alternated onto White’s cock, your left hand continuing to jerk off Red.

White groaned at the sudden heat, immersing against his length, his hips snapping into your mouth as you took him all the way in. You had been dating Shouto for a few years now. You were definitely capable of taking him in your mouth in one go without trouble. But it just felt so different with one of your hands stroking off Red, and White’s hands grabbing your head while he thrust into you.

Before you could settle on White’s cock, you switched back to Red, who decided to command your every little instruction.

It quickly became a game between Red and White on who could make you choke and moan the loudest as they fucked your mouth and throat mercilessly. You, thankfully, were entirely enjoying it, your soaked pussy rubbing against your tight panties, and you rutted against the fabric trying to relive the building, fast pressure in your core.

“Fuck,” White snarled when Red had you completely choked against his cock. His cock was shoved as far down your throat as it could manage, and he kept you there. Painful tears falling from your eyes while your throat struggled to remain relaxed despite the burning lack of oxygen. “Keep her there, Red. Don’t let her move.”

Red, who was only entranced by you for quite some time, looked up with amusement at his other half.

“What, you like this?” Red asked a taunt hidden in his voice but was buried under so much more throbbing lust. “You like seeing y/n choking against a cock?”

You whimpered against Red, your throat muscles fluttering and flaring along his length-- what was he planning?

“Who wouldn’t want to see y/n like this,” White breathed, and you shook at the nonverbal agreement that passed between the two of them.

You whined at the unknown, finally being released from Red’s cock, and you spluttered and coughed, drool and saliva drenching your chin while you turned towards White, ready to do the same. But you shrieked, the wind knocking out of you when they both picked you up from the floor and tossing you onto the mattress. You bounced when you landed.

Both Red and White quickly moved to remove your clothes until you were naked as well, their eyes glimmering with their treaty, a million ideas undoubtedly pouring through their mind.

White is on you first. He joins you onto the mattress, his lips pressing and languidly moving against yours, and you moan against him.

“We’re going to start fucking you now, baby,” White whispers against your mouth, his thumb running up against your still spit slicked chin. With just his finger alone, he moves you so that you’re on your hands and knees before him, waiting like an obedient pet. Your eyes flutter open, just barely opened so that you could meet his stormy grey eyes while his thumb slips over your bottom lip and into your mouth. “I hope you’re ready to be fucked… Red?” he called, his thumb pressing down on your tongue, instinctively flaring your gag reflex.

“Hm?” Red answered back, and you stilled when something hot and heavy smacked against your ass.

Once, twice.

“Fuck her right.”

Silence.

You whimpered against White’s thumb, your eyes watering while you studied his determined, playful face. There's a chuckle from behind you, and you shiver at the fact that you could practically smell the knowing smirk on his face.

“Obviously.”

And then it happens.

Red slams his cock into your awaiting, wet pussy with a pleased groan while you lurched forward onto White at the mighty snap of Red’s hips. Naturally so, you screamed Red's name, your pussy singing in absolute love over the fact that he’s buried entirely within you, undoubtedly claiming you once again.

Before you could sing your praises for Red, White’s shut you up by replacing his thumb with his cock, and you’re forced silent.

When they worked against each other, they were annoying, irritating, and often horrifying, but together? Well, as Red’s cock shoved more profound and deeper into your womb, and White’s cock conquested your throat, you hummed with the pleasure they brought. Together they were powerful, commanding, and unbreakable, and if the sounds of your wet pussy and choking mouth were to prove it, it was more than just a fact.

You struggled to keep up with Red’s slamming hips, the girth of his cock stretching you out in an all too familiar way, and White driving cock that choked you out every time you moved. You felt dizzy with the thumping, tingling pleasure, your hand that held onto White’s hips clutching his skin, while your other one manipulated and circled your clit.

You wanted to cum. You wanted to so badly.

“You sound so hot choking on his cock,” Red laughed, his hand coming down to spank your jiggling ass with a single, powerful thwack. You bristled at the sensation. “Do more, sweetheart, I know you can do more; we’ve experienced you doing more.”

You garbled as White smirked down at you, your eyes just barely open enough to see the knowing look in his eyes.

“Use that little slut mouth of yours better, baby,” White taunted, his hand coming to pat your hollowed cheeks roughly, quickly, in a few stinging slaps.

This is what you liked, you realized as you pulled away from his length, mouth swallowing his balls with heightened eagerness, your hand rubbing his length as you did so. White moaned your name, his head dropping in his pleasure as you did so.

It must have done something for Red, too, because his fingers dug into the skin on your waist, his powerful thrusts becoming quicker, shorter thrusts that moved you against his cock with rattling power and craving lust. You whimpered against White’s balls and cried out in pleasure-filled pain the moment Red spanked you again, and again, and again.

Your cunt was fluttering, squeezing, and beating in time to your heartbeat. The pleasure within you grew from a light warmth to a blazing heat. You cried for more, your knees and thighs shaking for more.

More friction, more fucking, more of Shouto.

“Turn around, you little cockslut,” White grinned, removing you from his balls. “It’s my turn to fuck your pretty little cunt.”

Whining, you did as you were told, your limbs feeling like lead as Red smoothed back the hair falling on to your face.

Before you were ready, not that you minded, their cocks reclaimed your holes.

It was different this time.

They fucked you differently, you realized when White enjoyed pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back into you. His strokes and powerful thrusts send the coil in your stomach to grow tighter and tighter. But Red, fuck, Red had his fingers in your mouth, choking you with them as he slapped your cheek with his cock, his precum mixed with your slick smearing all over your cheek as he did so.

“I want to make sure that you realize that me putting my cock in your mouth is a blessing,” Red coldly smirked, his eyes blazing with a whole other story. But despite it all, you nodded your head quickly. Altogether agreeing with the claim that you needed to earn his cock in your mouth again.

“I kno thath,” you whine against his fingers, saliva shamelessly dribbling past your lips, your mouth closing to suck on his fingers. “I promith I’ll apprethciate your giff.”

He could try all he wanted, but Red was whipped for you too.

His cock immediately replaced his fingers, slamming to the depths of your throat, all while the wet noises of your throat and choking voices joined the squelching of your cunt. Your eyes rolled in your pleasure, your cunt thrumming with energy as Red’s hands encircled your throat, choking you while he fucked straight down your throat.

“You looked so pretty earlier when you couldn’t breathe,” Red snarled, his cock twitching in your throat the same time White’s cock twitched in your cunt. “I’m just -- fuck do that again -- trying to get you there… faster… Your throat really feels like your fucking pussy at times, shit.”

You whimper at that comparison as you forcefully clench your throat and cunt around both of your boyfriend's cock.

But you vibrate when White’s finger traces your rim, his finger not disappearing into your wrinkled muscle, but stimulating it well past teasing. You pull off Red’s cock with a spluttering cough, your eyes burning, but you find White’s gaze immediately.

“What’s going on, sweetness?” White asked, his eyes glimmering with knowledge of what you want already, but the slick fucker just had to ask.

Too bad you weren’t ashamed of shit around him.

“I want you to fuck my ass,” you moan, your hips slamming back against White’s still shifting cock, your hand clenching one of your asscheeks as you split yourself open for White. “Please fuck my ass.”

“Fuck!” they both seemed to growl, and without so much as a break, White switches from your ass and buries his length slowly into your needy, tight ass.

The pitchy, unstoppable moan from your mouth sends both Red and White into whimpering messes as you collapse onto the mattress, your chest heaving with your heightened stimulus. It was starting to hurt, your lack of orgasm, you just needed a bit more done to cum, and you wanted to.

“Where’s my dick?” White finally growls at you as he bottoms out entirely within you. You tremble at the question, body shaking with every stroke of his cock he makes afterward. “Where is it?”

“I-In my ass!” you wail, your ass clenching around him, trying to make him feel this heated pleasure as strongly as you were. “It’s in m-my ass!”

“Do you love my cock in your ass?” White snarls, his hands gripping your waist and slamming you back onto him, your ass squeezing with the sensation. You can’t speak; your mind is overloaded with feeling and emotion. “Why do I even bother? I know you love my cock in your ass.”

Red comes back into the equation, his hands grabbing your jaw and pressing your mouth against his into a searing kiss. You can hardly kiss him back, your mouth pathetically hanging open as he kisses your teeth, mouth, tongue. So, it shouldn’t shock you that in your near blissful blackout, Red hands your limp arms to White, who holds onto them.

His grasp and hold on your arms elevates you slightly off the bed, your back arched, and breasts exposed as he begins to jackhammer into your ass. You want to scream, you want to shudder and cry your sensations to the world, but Red interrupts once more by pressing his swollen, purpling head into your mouth, silencing you with gags and chokes while they both use you.

They both drive into you with ferocity and power, your body nearly limp and twitching with your ever still denied orgasm that refuses to back down, and the way the lack of oxygen makes you spin as Red’s balls clash against your throat in quick, succinct, patterns.

“Sit down, White,” Red snaps at White, and White, who was ever so entranced at how your ass was swallowing his cock, dumbly nods. “Y/n is about to cum, we need to make sure she cums correctly.”

You whine against Red’s cock, unsure if you heard him correctly when White drops your arms. But instead of falling forward as you thought you would, his relaxed arms wrapped around your waist tightly, bringing you down with him.

Your back was pressed against his chiseled chest. And you moaned at the sensation this angle brought in terms of depth and stretch. Your mouth, freed from Red’s cock, opened in a loud, scratchy moan, undoubtedly raspy from the abuse it went through from the vigorous face fucking.

“R-Red!” you cried, your legs shaking when White hooked his arms under your knees and spreading them out, exposing your wet, slick core to Red, who was merely watching. You shifted pathetically, wanting to have both of them on you, not just one. “Red, please!”

But, White’s hips began to thrust upward, resuming his fucking of your asshole, and you howled in pleasure as he breathed heavily, gasping in your right ear. But as your legs trembled, unsure if White would be able to keep your legs in such position, Red pressed on top of you, his weight keeping your legs spread, and his cock quickly slamming within your cunt.

You had one hand buried in White’s hair, the other slipping behind Red’s back when he pressed onto you. The second their cocks rubbed against each other through the oh so thin wall between your ass and your cunt, you screeched. The hand in White’s hair tugging at his roots harshly, and the hand on Red’s back drawing bloody mountains on his skin.

But this didn’t stop them, the slight pain you gave them doing nothing but making them growl in your ear, making your eyes cross in your oblivion while they continued to fuck you.

Sandwiched between them, your breasts crushed by Red’s chest, and your back buried into White’s chest, White let go of one of your legs that immediately latched around Red’s waist. Your eyes crossed, rolling to the back of your head, your mouth agape, but no noise coming out as every massive, hard thrust sent your soul into a new dimension. White’s hand sneaking between Red’s drilling hips and your cunt to pinch and pull at your clit as you shook like a leaf in a windstorm. You came without realizing it, your walls clenching like a vice against Red’s cock, and your ass clenching around White’s in tandem to your orgasm. Both of them moaning against your salty sweat skin, but neither one of them stopped.

Faster and faster, they thrust into you, gaining such speed and power that you felt akin to a ragdoll as they fucked you. They praised you for taking them both at the same time, senseless names, and wordless praise as you took them without a single wince of pain. You were theirs, they claimed, and they were yours.

The sounds of their cock drilling into the wet caverns of your cunt and ass, the sticking shivering sound of their balls smacking your ass and cunt.

It was so much, growing to be more and more, until your orgasm was once again growing as you attempted to shift your weak, still trembling hips up and down their length, wanton gasps shrill on your tongue. Your body begging for more.

“Gonna cum,” they whispered together, his deep, raspy voice filling both of your ears, and you wailed as your own orgasm tipped once again.

“Cum in me, please cum in me!” you begged with everything you had.

And with your pleading heavy in the air, they came with you. You moaned at the feeling of the hot, sticky thick ropes of cum filling up both your holes, the cocks spasming uncontrollably within you as their hips continued to ride out their orgasms. Your chest heaves as their snapping hips become rolling thrusts until finally, they stop.

All three of you still joined, all three of you sweaty and tired.

When you pass out, you can barely hear them saying goodbye.

…

You wake up, your body sore and bruised around midnight.

You groan, stretching out your neck as you realize that there is no body on top of you or beneath you as that was definitely how you all had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Panic filled you when the bed was empty, and you rushed to your feet, cursing when your knees buckled out from under your weight.

Crashing to the floor, you groaned as you lay there.

“What are you doing on the floor?” an all too familiar voice asked you, and you looked up to see if it was Red or White.

You blinked when instead the once two distinctive heads blurred into one, and you stared at your finally normal boyfriend.

“S-Shouto!” you cried, your body weakly pressing off the floor, your arms stretching to you.

Shouto smiled warmly, softly, the perfect in-between of the facial expressions Red and White would give you.

“I’m back, sorry for scaring you like that,” he whispered as he joined you on the floor, letting your arms wrap him into a firm hug, not wanting to let go as you pathetically began to cry.

The two of you lay naked together on the floor, his soft apologies gathering in your ear as you held him tightly, having missed him entirely.

“Do you remember?” you eventually asked long after Shouto managed to bring you back into the bed. You lay curled into his side, your fingers tracing the marks on his body that you had left on both Red and White. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes… and I remember how it all felt too.”

“Ew… perv…”

“Try that again? Ms. ‘I-want-your-cock-in-my-ass’.”

“SHOUTO!”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020

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cultgambles · 3 years

Text

Yeah She Bad Ain’t She

Why would I wanna keep her to myself

Dabi x Reader x Hawks

Wrote this in Hawks’ POV bc try new things. Enjoy! Also got inspired by some audios on gwa lol but what’s new.

Voyeurism, exhibitionism, public, threesome, mutual masturbation, one (1) gay joke, they/them pronouns for reader, afab tho

WC: 1794

Masterlist | Requests? open

The first time you step into the dingy bar of the LOV, you scrunch your nose at the smell. Cough into your fist, and scan the room with careful eyes. You see Tomura Shigaraki nursing a whiskey at the bar, Kurogiri behind it, Spinner chatting up Twice. Dabi is laid back on the couch, his arm slung around someone you don’t recognize.

“Hawks, our newest member!” Shigaraki says to the team. “Give him every hospitality.”

“Hey-yo!” you say, saluting leisurely as a greeting. Shigaraki introduces everyone, as if you don’t already know who everyone is. Except one person, the one cozied up to Dabi. They introduce themselves as [Y/N]. Someone you’ll have to research on later before you report back to the commission, which makes you sigh silently.

“Come sit! You’re in luck because tonight is movie night!” Twice says.

“Just tonight?” you ask, watching the rest of the members find seats around the small TV.

“Every Thursday!”

“What are we watching tonight?”

“Catch Me If You Can! About that American con artist,” [Y/N] says. “Pass me that blanket, would you?”

“Sounds interesting. And sure,” you say, tossing the Christmas themed blanket at them. You watch as they fluff it out on themselves and Dabi. You push over one of those lounge chairs and flop onto it. Shigaraki queues up Netflix and hits the play button.

About thirty minutes in, you hear [Y/N]. “Dabi, stop,” they whisper, smacking him on the arm lightly.

“What, I’m not doing anything at all.”

“Don’t act all innocent.” Out of your peripheral vision, you swear you see Dabi’s hand move under the blanket, [Y/N]’s hand gripping his forearm.

“But don’t I make you feel good, baby?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. The problem is everyone is here.”

“Not like we haven’t done something like this before,” he scoffs. “Look, we even got an audience.”

Your face flushes as you listen to their conversation. You barely hear a low groan from [Y/N]’s lips.

“Can y’all shut the fuck up? I’m trying to see what Frank’s gonna do!” Shigaraki fumes, whipping around. A look at Dabi. “Oh.”

“C’mon, boss, don’t pay attention to us, watch the movie,” [Y/N] says.

“This is free entertainment right here.”

[Y/N]’s hips jolt upwards. “You perv.”

“More moaning my name, less talking,” Dabi growls, ripping the blanket off [Y/N]. [Y/N]’s wearing a yellow sundress, that by now, is hitched up above their hips. Their panties are pushed to the side, showing their glistening sex. Dabi’s middle finger and ring finger disappear inside of them, his palm pressing against the clit roughly as he fingers them.

“I-Is this a normal occurrence?” you stutter, face turning the same color as your wings.

“P-pretty normal, yeah, oh, Dabi, right there!” [Y/N] trails off, grinding up for more friction.

“What can we say, we like to have fun here.”

By now, the other league members have turned around, movie be damned.

“How are y’all so casual about this?!”

“Don’t be like that, you’re having a good time too, bird brain,” Dabi smirks, eyes drifting to your growing erection.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. But he’s not wrong, both of them have got you so enamored. You hear the squelch and squeaks, the quickening of breaths.

“Dabi, I need you, need your cock,” you barely hear them whisper.

“Of course, doll. Lay down,” Dabi smiles softly, planting a kiss on their lips.

You don’t know if you’d rather be him or [Y/N].

[Y/N] slips down, horizontal on the couch. You eye Dabi as he stands straighter, nimble fingers unclasping his belt and pulling his cock out. It shimmers slightly in the TV light. He drags his cock along their folds, gathering wetness. He taps it against them. Without warning, he slams into them, both letting out a guttural sound at the sensation. His pace is slow, he’s gripping [Y/N]’s hips as a smack smack smack rings out as their bodies meet.

Somewhere behind you, you hear a zipper unzipping. You’re tempted to too, but would that be too soon? Must be, since this is basically your first official day here.

But you don’t deny how good [Y/N] looks taking Dabi’s cock. Hair splayed out, breasts moving under that sundress. You want to rip the dress off of them. Tt hold, knead at the flesh, and lick at the pert nipple. Your eyes travel down their body, where [Y/N] takes him in so nicely. How would they taste, you wonder.

And what about Dabi? Just the size of him could choke you out.

Dabi’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. “C’mon, man, if you’re just gonna stare at them, why don’t you play?”

“Nothin’ wrong with lookin,’” you trail off.

You so want to. Badly.

“Hawwwwkkks,” [Y/N] moans. “Let me taste you. Taste me. Whatever.”

“You heard them,” Dabi drawls.

One beat, and suddenly you’re up, fast as lightning. “[Y/N], let me take your dress off.”

“Okay,” [Y/N] lifts their arms as you pull the dress up over their head, revealing the tantalizing and smooth skin. You toss the dress somewhere to the side of you and rip off your gloves. You kneel beside them on the floor, slotting your mouth against theirs in an open mouthed kiss. Your hands sneak up, massaging their breasts and pinching the nipples.

You feel [Y/N]’s hand snake down your chest, and whimper as their hand grips your clothed cock. You pull away to bring it out. The tip is flushed red, a bead of precum forming at the slit. You stroke your hand down once, and move so your hips are flush with [Y/N]’s face.

“Nice dick,” [Y/N] and Dabi mutter at the same time.

“Jinx!” [Y/N] barks a laugh that soon turns into a moan at a particularly hard thrust.

[Y/N]’s tongue slides on the underside of your cock, massaging the vein there. Soon enough, it’s enveloped in their mouth and you fight to suppress a moan.

“Your mouth feels so good, baby.” [Y/N] hums, taking you in deeper. Their nose nuzzles the hair at the base of your dick slightly. They barely have to do any work as Dabi basically pushes them forward with each thrust. Dabi looks up at you with lazy eyes.

“Kiss me,” you plead, leaning in.

“That’s gay,” he says as he captures your lips with his.

You’ve never kissed a man before. He tastes like old cigarettes and mint. Your tongue slides against his teeth, and finally meets his tongue.

He’s got a tongue piercing.

How many piercings does this dude even have?

You jerk away without warning as [Y/N] does a particularly hard suck.

“Wanna feel their pussy?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Just because you’re new I’ll

let you.” Is this a trick?

You so want to.

[Y/N] pops off of you. “Dabs likes watching.”

“Does that even count since I’m also partaking?”

“I think so. Just get over here, I need your fat cock in my mouth. Not that yours wasn’t also good, Hawks. Just needs to be somewhere else,” [Y/N] says.

“Do it!” you hear.

Damn. You’re so wrapped up in these two, you forgot there was an audience. However, it seems that was the push you needed. You give the a-okay. Dabi nods, clearly pleased by your decision, and pulls out.

You trade places, [Y/N]’s hole flexing against nothing. You bring two fingers down to swipe at the wetness and run your tongue along the digits. You guide your cock in, letting out a satisfied moan at the warmth. [Y/N] squeezes your cock deliciously, and you almost want to come right then and there. You tell them so.

Your pace isn’t as brutal as Dabi’s but still elicits those sounds you're beginning to love out of [Y/N]’s mouth. A sick part of you hopes you’re better than Dabi, and that they will leave him for you.

Or maybe they’ll let you in again? How often do they do this sort of stuff, you wonder to yourself.

[Y/N] and Dabi are holding hands sweetly, their fingers brushing against his charred skin rhythmically.

Your hand moves to rub tight circles on their clit and you're squeezed impossibly tighter as a response.

“You gonna come, [Y/N]?” Dabi asks. “Getting sloppy there. Don’t bite, baby.”

“I’m so close,” [Y/N]’s voice dips off info nothingness at the end, mouth agape. They throw their head back as they move their hips against yours when your body meets theirs. “I want both of you to come inside of me.”

“Wasn’t gonna do it anywhere else,” Dabi chuckles.

“You want me to?” you ask.

“Yeah, fill me up good, Hawks.”

You glance at Dabi. He shrugs. Hope he doesn’t kill you for this.

“Oh shit,” you curse, feeling [Y/N] spasm around you and shudder.

You think Dabi comes at the same time you do. You slow to a languid pace, letting [Y/N]’s walls milk you.

“Good job, doll face,” you watch him lean down and peck [Y/N] on the forehead. “You too, bird brain.”

“Uh, thanks.” You pull out of [Y/N], and they wince at the loss. You tuck yourself back into your pants and [Y/N] wraps the blanket around their shoulders.

“Good show!” Twice says.

“Now let’s finish the movie,” Shigaraki huffs out.

“You have such a one track mind, Shiggy,” [Y/N] says, ruffling his hair.

“I’m just really invested.”

“Yeah, you were invested in us, too,” they say, looking down briefly.

“Oh shut up.” You catch a glimpse of his cock as he scurried to shove it back in his pants.

“See ya round, Hawks,” [Y/N] says, blowing you a kiss. They take Dabi’s hand in theirs and walk up the stairs at the back of the bar.

“Probably gonna fuck some more,” Spinner snickers.

You’re lucky your mic on the inside of your jacket just happened to die before you got up to some frisky business. This has got to be the weirdest thing you’ve been a part of: League of Villains just fuck as bonding activity.

Maybe you’ll keep this one to yourself. You wonder if they would ever invite you again.

#bnha #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #dabi x reader #dabi x hawks #dabi x reader x hawks #lemon #smut #dabi x you #hawks x you #bnha dabi #bnha hawks #my writing

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harveywritings92 · 3 years

Text

BNHA SOULMATE AU: Hawks X Reader

Your Quirk is the same as Ruby Rose's semblance from RWBY but it's called Petal Storm here.

Soulmate: First words your Soulmate says is written on your body, yours was written on your inner left thigh, Hawks is on his chest over his heart.

Your mark: [You're okay kid, I got'cha!]

Keigo's: [No! I got you!]

----------------------------

["You're okay kid, I got'cha!"] You cock a brow at the gold and black letters resting on you inner thigh as you pulled your pants up that morning, When you were younger, you were mortified when the words first showed up mainly because if your soulmate asks to see it, well... it would look very lewd and creepy of them as they were pretty much sticking their face between your legs.

it was awkward as hell growing up, because of your reluctance of telling people where you mark was you were often accused of and or shunned by your peers for not having a soulmate! of course that all ended in middle school when you were in the changing rooms and swim practice where other's could see your thighs, needless to say those rumors died out pretty quickly.

And now here you are taking a elevator to a job interview with a very high-end gym, they were looking for swim coaches and lifeguards... anyways the gym was located on the roof, and there you were playing elder scroll's blades as you waited for your floor to come up when you felt a tremor shake the whole building, followed by the lights flickering and the elevator stopping... that definitely didn't sound good!

The building's alarm started going off followed by the announcements warning the building's patrons that a villain was attacking and to please follow the evacuation procedures and not to panic! "Okay, that's nice... Now how the fuck do I get out the elevator?!" you snapped up at the ceiling, when you felt the building begin to shake again, and realized you heard the elevator begin to creak and jolt you knew that the car wouldn't hold for long!

You looked around and saw the tiny fire extinguisher on the wall, you took it and began slamming it against the glass wall it took a few good swings, but you managed to break open a decently sized hole to escape out of, you looked outside and took a deep breath letting out a nervous whistle when you saw how high you were. "Okay...Y/n if ya do this right, you can probably make it to that building across the road no problem." you assured before taking a deep breath and jumped! just as the elevator gave way and fell!

Meanwhile on the ground.

Hawks and few other heroes were huddled with fire department and the buildings owner who whining up a storm about law suites and other threat empty threats if the heroes don't save his business! when Hawks felt his mark begin to itch... his brow furrowed and he absentmindedly rubbed the spot, when he heard the sound of glass hitting the ground.

He looked behind him just in time see a fire extinguisher hit the ground which went off causing everyone to freak out, while Hawks looked up to see where it came from just in time to see a lady jump out of one of the elevators shafts! the winged hero gasped to off to the skies like a rocket!

*back to you*

You were plummeting to ground just waiting for the vantage point to to use you quirk! a little too high you might overshoot the landing, too low and you might faceplant into a light post! However before you could reach that point you felt a pair of arms snatch you by the waist, your stomach lurched from the sudden loss of momentum and you squeaked closing your eyes before a man's voice spoke to you. "You're okay kid, I got'cha!" you gasped feeling your mark begin to itch and looked up to see a blond man with gold eyes and red wings giving you a reassuring smile it took your brain a second to reboot.

*Holy crap! my soulmate is Hawks?* at least you think he is, but before you could ask him to repeat that, you saw some of the building began to break apart! some of it coming right towards you! "No! I got you!" He looked at you stunned, "What did you jus-" you suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck and activated your quirk, in seconds you and your soulmate bodies transmuted and scattered into a flurry of gold and red rose petals dodged the falling building zoomed across the sky and landing on one of the roofs across the road.

Hawks let go of you the second you were back to normal...He slapped a hand of his mouth and started dry heaving obviously feeling nauseous, Yeah... that happens to first timers who've had their molecules reshaped and scattered, before you could reach out to ask if he was okay, you were suddenly pulled into tight hug. "Holy crap...Holy crap!" he kept repeating this before his brain jump started. "I thought I'd never get to meet you!" his wings had wrapped around you as he held on to you tightly squeezing the wind out of you.

"Yeah... ditto! Can I breathe now?" you wheezed Hawks immediately apologized and set you down while smiling sheepishly, then you noticed he seemed to looking for something as he was pulling you sleeves up looking for something. "What are doing?" you asked as he (if you have long hair) lifted your hair up to check you neck. "Looking for your mark, Mine's on my chest." He said putting you hand over his heart causing your cheeks to heat up feeling how fast it was beating.

*Lucky bird...* you mentally hummed. "Urm... I can't exactly show you my mark, uh...it's in a very awkward place." you said avoiding his eyes, while Hawks stared at you blankly for moment before his cheeks went pink. "oh...uh" he looked around to make sure it was just the two of you up here, as he leans in close to you and whispers. "Right or left cheek?" your eyes widened as you jerk back. "IT'S NOT ON MY BUTT!" You shrieked mortified face aflame before stammering out. "S'on my left thigh...bikini zone." you played with helm of your shirt.

Hawk awkwardly chuckled before remembering he was in the middle of a villain fight, it was gonna take a while to clean up he gave you his address a basically told you meet him at his penthouse; just before he was about to take off he turned you and shouted "By the way my names Keigo, Takami Keigo!" he was gone before you could tell him yours but didn't worry you'll have the time in the world to get to know Keigo, as you hopped of the roof using your quirk to glide down to street, a little excited and embarrassed of what was to come.

The next couple days the tabloids and media were going nuts over Hawks finally finding his soulmate! there was photo of the two of you at the beach soulmarks visible, everyone seemed happy for the #2 hero, with the exception of a few fan-girls; who sent you death threats, deep fakes and badly photoshopped pictures of them and Keigo together, they even tried to slam you on social media; only to make themselves look like idiots!

Meanwhile Hawks got to enjoy the one of the few things the commission let him keep! he still had that old Endeavor plushy sitting on his desk in his office and now he had a whole lifetime to spend with you... and you bet your ass he wasn't ever gonna take that for granted.

#bnha soulmate au #bnha fanfiction #hawks x reader #hawks #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha imagines #hawks imagine

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maeve-writes · 3 years

Text

Heroes

Pairing: Stripper!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Stripper!Steve Rogers

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings: Adult situations, alcohol consumption, allusion to mild cheating(??). More to be added later.

Summary: It’s your friend’s birthday and you’re dragged to the Heroes club. You’re not one for that kind of place, but you quickly change your mind after you get to play the damsel in distress for a pair of Brooklyn babes.

a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. This is the second story I’ve written in a while. Forgive me?

You normally don’t go to these sorts of places but it was your friend’s 30th birthday and it was on her bucket list. Luckily, you weren’t talked into planning any of it, just had to toss in some cash for the fee to get in and the never ending flow of drinks, plus the very special Birthday Girl Dance package.

It took you three years after the second Magic Mike movie came out to watch the first one. The idea of male strippers seemed odd. But, when you really thought about it, so did female strippers.

Nevertheless, the night ultimately wasn’t about you, it was about your friend and her birthday. You were happy to be there with your friends, enjoying the celebration and drinks, seeing hot guys take off their clothes was a weird added bonus.

Heroes was the club to go if you wanted to see buff dudes bare it all. Tara, the birthday girl, had been raving about it for months. She found videos of it online and shared them in your group chat. That, of course, had your other friends looking for more videos and all of them started to have their favorites.

“Girl, some of them even give private shows,” Sonya, the oldest and who was supposed to be the responsible one of your group, mock-whispered excitedly.

You tried not to roll your eyes as your gang was escorted to the front table near the stage. It was a semicircular booth where small round tables came up from the floor, big enough for drinks, but small and spaced out enough to allow for bodies to move around and in between.

Your host was a slender built guy on the younger side, barely old enough to be allowed in. He had a baby face and a boyish smile, but his muscles were well defined as the club forced him to be shirtless save for the small bow tie around his neck with a spider in the middle, and the tiny pair of shorts that cupped his rear which stayed there by what you guessed was his will or magic. Maybe both.

“Here you are, ladies,” he guided, instructing Tara to take her seat near the middle. “The name’s Peter- uh Spider-Man. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

That set off a fit of giggles from your friends which caused a full body flush from your waiter. His embarrassment tugged at your heartstrings. “New at this, Mr. Spider,” you asked.

His flush darkened and he rubbed absently at the back at his neck after he passed out the menus. “It’s Spider-Man,” he corrected you, “but is it that obvious?” You tilted your head and scrunched up your nose, parting your pointer and thumb a small ways apart. He laughed in return, his shoulders relaxing a little. You gave him a wink and a smile before the rest of your friends attacked the poor kid with their drink and food orders.

You felt sorry for the guy, but he seemed to have loosened up a bit since your small, playful banter and your friends ate up his boyish charm.

While you waited for your turn to order, you looked around the club to find its sleek design, not something you thought a strip club would offer. The walls were painted black, accented by silver framed posters of the dancers. Above each were white neon lights that spelt out their Hero name.

The rest of the booths were like your own, made of soft black cushions, black metal bases which were illuminated underneath by white light. The tables that sprang from the ground were polished silver necks with textured tempered glass tops to keep drink slipping and spilling to a minimum.

Of course, all of the booths surrounded the stage, which was mostly closed off by a thick black curtain, save for the large catwalk that split half of the sitting area in two. It was wide enough to fit three large men comfortably across it, shoulder to shoulder, and from some of the videos your group shared, they had done so before.

When Peter- there was no way you were going to refer to him by his Hero name- got to your order last, you could hear other rowdy groups start to file in. A couple of bachelorette parties, a girl’s 21st birthday, and a Happy Divorce Finalization Day were all joining you. Your friends quickly became friends with everyone in the room, so even if the show sucked, at least all of you could get drunk and have fun.

“Excuse me, ladies,” a voice rang out above you. Cheers burst from the crowd and every light in the room popped out and stayed out until the room fell silent. “Now that I have your attention…” A tall, dark man walked out from the split of the curtains. He wore a wireless microphone over his ear, an eyepatch over his eye which rested just above a self assured smile. Dressed in a fitted pair of leather pants and combat boots, he strode to the center crossroads of the stage and catwalk, “My name is Director Fury. I will be introducing you to your Heroes tonight.” He paused for another round of catcalls. “And hopefully we can save you from the Villains, too.” That drew out louder screams from the crowd.

“Now, what do we do to the bad girls like you,” he paused, looking pointedly to the crowd, “we contain,” he pulled a piece of rope from the back of his pants and tossed it into a group nearby, “detain,” he pulled out cuffs and twirled them around a finger before he threw those out as well, “and entertain.” With that, the bass dropped and the curtain flew open, behind Director Fury were the Heroes (and Villains) in all of their sweat slicked glory.

Once the Director stepped aside, the seven dancers on stage began their opening routine. Dressed in black vests and tear-away leather pants, the men paraded around the stage and catwalk to the thump of the music, pulling off pieces of their clothing as they went. The women around you went wild, snatching at whatever was tossed their way, fighting playfully for it. While it seemed incredibly silly, Tara was having the time of her life and you absently sipped at your Tequila Sunrise while you scrolled on your phone.

The dance number finished not two minutes later with a screaming cheer and standing ovation from the rest of the already slightly tipsy crowd. Director Fury came out while the dancers disappeared into the back to get ready, he worked the crowd, mentioning the brides-to-be and promised them a very special wedding gift before the night was over. “But I heard there were a couple of birthdays here,” Fury said, looking between your group and the one behind you. “Now, I’m going to get the young gun back there in a moment, but… a little bird told me that you,” he pointed to your friend, “are a very big fan of our first Hero of the night.”

Tara squealed and stood up, “Fuck yes, I am. God bless Captain America! ...and dat ass!”

It was obvious that Director Fury was trying to keep his composure, but the corners of his lips twitched like he wanted to join in on the laughter from the crowd. “Well, he is certainly blessed,” he replied, “and ladies, you will be, too, when you see him at full salute.” He winked and started to walk off stage, “Captain? Duty calls…”

Some sort of abomination of the Star Spangled Banner started to play, remixed with drum and bass. You looked up to see what kind of horror show would come from something treasonous as what bled from the speakers around you, you were met with over six feet of muscle covered in a fitted blue suit, fingerless leather gloves on his hands, and a round metal shield on his back painted red, white, and blue.

The Captain’s background was what looked like a large war ship with painted ski-masked bad guys spread throughout the levels. His stage allowed him ramps and poles to move up and down, which he used freely. He used a mixture of acrobatics and dance to move across the stage, tossing the shield around, “fighting off the bad guys” and losing his clothes in the process. By the end of the song he was left in just the leather gloves and a very tight pair of shorts, much like the ones Peter wore, except the Captains had the same pattern of his shield printed across the backside.

Tara’s screams knocked you out of your daze and you realized you hadn’t stared down at your phone at all during the Captain’s dance. You watched all five minutes of it and couldn’t tear your eyes away. Heroes wasn’t about getting drunk women horny, they wanted to put on a show, too. You clapped lightly, though it was drowned out by the cheering around you, but unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t unnoticed.

Fury was out once again and he brought up the first bachelorette of the night. He put her in a chair on the catwalk and gave her a candy-garterbelt. Then he asked her waiter, a guy named “Ant Man”, to remove it with only his tongue, which he happily obliged.

Peter cut off your view with another drink, one you didn’t order. “On the house,” he said with a lopsided grin and placed the red, white, and blue layered drink next to your nearly empty Sunrise. Before you could ask him who ordered it, the candy garterbelt was being tugged between the bachelorette and her waiter. It ended in a tongue-y kiss and the ladies went wild.

“Let’s hope her future husband doesn’t mind,” you muttered and turned your attention to your phone once again. Director Fury, thankfully, broke up the awkward scene on stage and began to introduce the next dancers. It was a pair, brothers, apparently, and they worked on the good versus bad troupe. Thor and Loki were opposites in every sense of the word. Thor was a large blond with a commanding presence. He had a bright smile and sun kissed skin that looked great in his red and gold trimmed briefs. But his brother was slender, graceful - almost cat-like, with dark hair and a mischievous grin all wrapped in flawless alabaster skin. They didn’t look like brothers, but they moved around each other like they had been together all of their lives, and knew each other’s moves.

You only caught half of their story, as you were already halfway done with, what you found out was called the American Glory drink, and half wondered if that was what Captain America tasted like. Fury was up again and had the young lady celebrating her 21st birthday take two shots and lick the salt from Thor and Loki’s still sweaty chests.

Peter found his way in front of you again and said that someone needed to talk to you about your card being declined. You frowned and excused yourself from your friends to find out what was going on. There shouldn’t have been a problem, you got paid the day before, there was plenty of money in your account.

You were taken to a hall that connected what seemed like offices, the dressing room, and the route to the backstage. “Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly, “they said this was the only way to get you back here. Gotta go.” He waved and jogged back out to the lobby.

Confused, you were about to shout out after him when you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you turned, you faced that wall of American muscle beaming down at you. “Hey there,” he greeted, a smile almost blinding you from its perfection. “Don’t be too mad at the kid, I asked him to get you back here.”

“What,” was all you could get out. He was thankfully dressed, but his muscles were straining against the white tshirt and the gym shorts did not hide the package he carried. Even with all of that, what mesmerized you most was his eyes, sparkling blue and bright with amusement.

“This next bit requires audience participation and he had someone in mind,” the Captain replied like he explained everything.

“We had someone in mind,” a voice corrected behind the door you two stood near. You tore your eyes away from the blond and eyed the wood barrier suspiciously.

“Don’t worry,” Captain America laughed, capturing your attention once again, “it’s nothing too dangerous or embarrassing. You just have to sit there, pretend to be tied up, and me and Buck will dance around you.” He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head in thought, “Well, actually, you really will be tied up, but we promise we’ll let you go once we’re done.”

“Or not, if you don’t want us to,” came the voice again, which made the Captain laugh.

You blinked up at him and frowned, “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch,” he shook his head. “We might dance on you a little, if you don’t mind, the crowd likes it. But if not, we can work around that.” The thought of Captain America in those tiny shorts grinding on you was a very nice thought.

“‘Sfine,” you shrugged.

He beamed and reached out to squeeze you on the shoulder, his touch lingering and his thumb running along your collarbone. “I’ll let the stage team know.” Reluctantly, he dropped his hand and knocked on the door next to you both, “Five minutes.” When he heard a ‘yeah, got it’, the Captain motioned you to follow him.

The stage crew took over and the Captain disappeared to get ready. You were told about the chair you’d be sitting in, the rope that would be tied around your chest and if you would be okay with it. There was some hesitation on your part, but ultimately you agreed. They brought you on stage, a winter wonderland of sorts and placed you on a log-like chair. The rope wasn’t tight, but it was obvious you were the damsel in distress.

“One of you was taken,” Director Fury said from the other side of the curtain in front of you, “by The Winter Soldat. Will she survive? Will she be saved?” All of the lights turn off once again and an industrial heavy beat thrummed through the speakers, rattling your bones. Red stage lights shone down on you when the curtain pulled open and your friends lost their minds.

To your right you saw a figure stalk out of the dark, red light bouncing off a silver metal arm. A mask covered the lower half of his face, but his eyes were trained on you like you were prey. His black muscle shirt clung tightly to his chest, one sleeve missing to show off his arm, and his black tactical pants stretched against his thick thighs. You could feel the shaking of the stage from the stomps of his booted feet.

Eyes wide, you stared at him until he stopped short of your chair on cue with the music. His nostrils flared lightly before he moved again, the music flowing with him. He slung one leg over the side over your chair, straddling you. The metal arm clamped the wooden back rest of the chair and he narrowed his gaze. Lights flash around you, strobing from red to white and back again until they settle on the house lights.

Soldat began to roll his body with the tempo, blue eyes locked with yours. You could hear the screams behind him as he dancing, but neither of you were paying attention.

His hips circled until he’s seated on your lap, you’re practically nose to nose. He brought his flesh hand to the side of your face and you could feel it trembling against your skin. With him that close you could hear him mutter in some other language that isn’t English, you’re guessing Russian, but you’re not sure. Either way, you felt crushed by his weight and you liked it. You didn't want him to go.

But the music changed and the lights started to flash again, red, white, and now blue mixed in. Captain America joined the two of you on stage and Soldat slipped from your lap. Just as Thor and Loki had before, these two moved around each other like they were made from the same mold.

During the fight, pieces of clothing were tossed aside and at one point you were freed from your bonds. Soldat pulled you up from your chair and up against his chest, your backside pressed so tightly against him you could almost feel his heartbeat. He moved you with him as he continued to fight the Captain.

Until seconds before the song ended and the music swelled, the Captain landed one good blow to Soldat and sandwiched you between them. The Winter Soldier recalibrated and recognized his old friend and you. He pulled the Captain into a big bear hug and then picked you up bridal style, taking you off stage with cheers from the crowd.

Once you’re all off stage, he sat you down with a hearty laugh. “You did a fantastic job, sweetheart,” the Soldier praised, running his metal hand through his chin length brown hair. “Couldn’t have asked for a better dance partner.” Flushed from embarrassment and arousal, you continued to stare at him until you were joined by the Captain. “I told you she’d be great, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, Buck, you know how to pick ‘em,” the blond agreed with a smile.

“Thanks,” you replied breathlessly, finally coming out of your stupor. “That was… fun. I’m just going to go back to my seat now, I guess.”

“Wait,” the one named “Buck” jumped to stop you, “we were wondering if you wanted a private show?” You heard about those from Tara. You knew that they were exclusive and very expensive… and sometimes had happy endings. They seemed to sense your hesitation because they both added in unison as they eyed you up like you were a four course meal, “For free.”

“I never turn down free anything,” you shrugged. The pair turned to look at each other and their smiles turned to wicked grins. You aren’t sure what you got yourself into, but you’re pretty sure you were going to enjoy it.

a/n: Part Two coming soon... with smut!

#bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes x you x steve rogers #bucky barnes x y/n x steve rogers #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x you x bucky barnes #steve rogers x y/n x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #stripper!bucky barnes #stripper!steve rogers #stripper!au #heroes au

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rumbelleshowdown · 2 years

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Author: The_Wondrous_Trianne

Prompts: Rain, ruin, roses. No spoilers please. “Can I help you?”

Group: D

Gold at the Silver Screen

Mr. Gold wasn’t in the habit of closing up his pawn shop in the middle of the day. But it was a slow day in the middle of the week. There hadn’t been a customer all morning, so he was certainly entitled to take a long lunch. According to the cinema listings in the newspaper, he would only be away from the shop for an hour and forty minutes.

Storybrooke’s movie theater--The Royale--never showed the latest blockbuster. It was an old theater, with a curtain over the screen and red velvet seats and a projector that ran reels of film over a lightbulb instead of modern digital garbage. Gold appreciated that. He liked films, not just movies. The Royale specialized in classic and foreign films, none of that nonsense with superheroes and spaceships. One of Gold’s favorite directors had once said that cinema was truth at twenty-four frames per second.

Gold had enough lies in his real life. He could indulge in a little truth for escapism.

The theater was empty in the middle of the afternoon, just the way he liked it. Gold had always been more comfortable when there was some degree of darkness around him. Now--alone in a cavernous room with no light but flickering art on a giant screen--it was as therapeutic as sinking into a warm bath.

The film was titled Rain, Ruin, Roses. It was a black and white costume drama about a virtuous heroine who runs the risk of losing her reputation when she seeks the help of a devilish blackguard who can give her anything she asks--for a price. The premise seemed a bit moralistic for Gold’s taste, but he allowed himself to be washed away in the sumptuous production values. The sets were lavish, the costumes exquisite, the direction and cinematography were dynamic and motivated. The setting told a story all by itself, before any of the characters had said a word.

The lead actress was also captivating. Not only was she--of course--Hollywood beautiful, but she was also a master of her craft. Her performance leapt off the screen, fairly glowing with sincerity as she described her plight to her sympathetic, square-jawed love interest.

“Boo!” A jeer broke through the tranquility of the theater. “Booooooooo! Don’t trust him!”

In the darkness, Gold stood up and looked around. He got up out of his seat and went into the aisle. The first floor of the theater was empty, but then he looked up at the second level.

He’d never been up to the Royale’s balcony--climbing the stairs played havoc with his bad leg. Under normal circumstances, he considered the feature to be part of the place’s charm. Now it seemed to serve as a refuge for hooligans.

“Can I help you?” he snarled up to the balcony. “Some of us are trying to watch instead of jeer.”

There was a yelp from the back wall, then the sound of running. Then a face popped over the railing. In the black and white shadows of the silver screen, Gold recognized the features of Belle French.

“Mr. Gold! I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was anyone else in here but me.”

If it were any other person in Storybrooke, he would have considered them sufficiently chastised. He could have sat back down and enjoyed the rest of the film. But Belle French was one of the few people in town he didn’t enjoy frightening. Belle French was one of the few people in town he had been looking for an excuse to talk to.

She hadn’t gone back to her seat, so he didn’t go back to his.

“Why were you booing?” he called up. “Don’t you like the film?”

“No, I love this movie,” she answered. “But Avenant is such a prick.”

Gold glanced back at the screen. The scene had changed. Now the heroine was standing off against an older man in a dark cloak.

“Is that the villain’s name?”

“What? Do you mean Marais? Or--wait. Mr. Gold, have you never seen this movie before?”

“I’m not exactly seeing it now.”

Belle’s face disappeared from the railing. Gold heard the clack of her heels on the cinema floor, then racing down the stairs. She burst through the front doors, flooding light into the darkened theater. She rushed up to him, nearly spilling her popcorn with excitement.

“This is one of my favorite movies, and it’s based on the best book of all time! You’ve seriously never seen it before?”

There was no judgment in Belle’s tone, no condescension like when he told someone he hadn’t seen the latest dreck based on a comic book. She seemed to be delighted that he was experiencing something she loved for the first time. Gold found himself wanting to smile.

“I was enjoying it very much, before…”

“Right. I am sorry about that. But you have to understand. They changed the ending, and that ruins so much of what came before it. In the book, the big muscly guy is actually--”

“Please,” Gold held up a hand. “What is it they say nowadays? ‘No spoilers’?”

Belle French smiled, and it was the most captivating image he had ever seen in this theater.

“Alright, ” she said. “I won’t spoil it. But do you mind if I watch you watch the movie? And maybe talk your ear off a little bit when I get excited?”

“I… would like that very much, actually.” He stepped into the aisle to make room for her to pick out a seat.

Her smile went even wider. Her dark curls bounced as she turned her head to shout up to the projection booth. “Hey, Jeremy? Think you can start the movie over from the beginning?”

“Sure thing, Belle!” A man called down. Then the flickering stopped, and the screen went white.

Gold stared at her, as she shimmied down the row of seats. He followed and sat down next to her. “I had no idea what the projectionist’s name was.”

“Oh really?” Belle opened up her half-full popcorn bag and held it out to Gold. “Then you should get to the movies more often.”

He didn’t normally bother with popcorn, mentally comparing it to salty, greasy packing peanuts. But because Belle had offered, he decided to reach out and take some. She reached into the bag at the same time and her hand brushed against his.

“Yes,” he said, more to himself than to the beautiful woman sitting beside him. “Yes, I should go to the movies more often.”

#rumbelle showdown #round one entry #author: the_wondrous_trianne

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descendantsramblings · 3 years

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Style Headcanons

So basically, I’m a big hater to the way the costume team worked on them. The whole “All Isle kids wear Leather” and “Auradon Kids always look like they’re on their first kid and on the way to the country club” thing drives me crazy. It sorta feels like they made costumes before giving them personalities (The leather on Carlos and Evie feels like it clashes with their personalities. Lonnie’s dresses in the first movie doesn’t fit the personality we see, even though she didn’t have much of a personality until movie two. Audrey dressed like a thirty-four year old mother who just picked up her kid before going to the country club. Ben’s only good outfit was his swim trunks.) So here are some personal headcanons and pictures of what I imagine for them. (I started making them at 1am last night lol)

Villain Kids

Evie

As someone raised to want to be a princess, she wants to dress like how she imagines a princess would.

She loves pastels and is no stranger to pairing pastel blue with a neutral red or bright white.

The only pants she really wears are either athletic shorts or those little flowy elastic shorts, otherwise she’s all skirts.

She’s sorta a prep but not in the same way a character like Audrey would be.

Evie has respect for most aesthetics, even though she doesn’t fully fit just one. However, she hates crocs and those little pastel shorts that white boys wear, she will announce it often.

Wouldn’t be caught dead in neon colors.

owns a blue fur coat (it’s fake fur, obviously)

Carlos

Baby boy is a total softie

You know that one gay little sweater in movie one, that’s where they went right, more of that.

He’s into the soft boy aesthetic and only strays from it for formal wear

loves layering sweaters over button ups

Cuffed jeans, always because ya know, bisexual

Owns a floral button up from Jay, normally he hates patterned button ups but it’s his favorite shirt.

Loves striped sweaters, he owns about 6 variations of them in different colors (all include red, white, or black of course)

Jay

In theory, Jay doesn’t really have one aesthetic, he’s willing to try on just about anything

Most of his clothing was bought by Evie or Carlos, especially his formal wear

The only clothes that Jay will buy for himself is athletic wear

He doesn’t really see the point of buy clothing that he can’t go straight to practice in.

Still has the beanie, but he owns one in just about every color to match it to his outfit.

Listen, we know Jay’s main color is yellow/gold, but why did we always see him with more red/blue in the movie? What type of snow white aesthetic were they trying to give him?

Jay owns a button up that he write on, he refuses to wear it actually buttoned though

Mal

She loves the grunge/alternative aesthetic, she thinks it makes her look more like she belongs to the Isle

She wouldn’t wear skirts until after she and Evie became friends, Evie bought her her first skirt (a purple plaid one) and she fell in love with it

Mal has a whole jewelry box of just chains, both necklaces and ones that attach to clothing

Owns a pair of Demonia Swing-815 boots (black patent) and a pair of Demonia Camel-203 boots (holographic purple)

100% owns one of those studded hot topic belts.

Has a headband with little horns that symbolize her mother’s horns

Instead of the leather half gloves from the movie, she has those little fishnet gloves and covers her hands in rings.

Uma

Her style is similar to Mal’s because if Mal is going to do something, Uma will do it better.

Uma only wore outfits that were super Fem and had skirts until Mal started doing it

Then it was Uma always wearing pants, because of her love for plaid skirts she owns a whole collection of plaid pants

the only jeans she owns are black or dark wash.

Her first ever large purchase was a pair of Doc Marten 1460 Zip Tartan Lace up boots (they’re green, black, and blue plaid)

She and Harry bought matching Doc Marten Jadon platforms (his are more shiny though)

Isn’t as into chains as Mal, more into chockers.

Harry

When the E-boy aesthetic came out, Harry was all over it

Harry definitely has one of those chains with a little lock on it.

I’d like to imagine he has baby gauges

the before mentioned platform doc martens, he definitely treats them like his baby

Even though Harry dresses like an e-boy, he always has his pirate hat on

Definitely wears cloth masks as a fashion piece he actually would wear his in the pandemic though, unlike some people who wore them before but not for safety

Harry is actually really good at graphic liner, he owns a gold, red, and white eyeliner to add color to the outfit if it’s mainly black

gold>silver

Bought plaid pants because Uma did, he want’s to match with his captain

Gil

As we know (maybe you don’t) it’s in the canon that Gil’s mother taught him to sew and he enjoys it.

So Gil doesn't dress in one aesthetic or even close to being in one, he wants to try out everything, both making and wearing them.

He does stick to a monochrome color scheme though, mainly shades of brown with white or black thrown in. Sometimes he adds a little red or yellow though to “honor” Gaston

Most of his clothing is more comfortable than anything

Only owns three pairs of jeans, the rest are different types of pants (he loves corduroys)

Owns a pants chain that harry bought him but he only really wears it when Harry and Uma are wearing one so he won’t feel left out on it.

Dizzy

Baby girl has seen the Isle steal the childhood innocence from people, she dresses in kidcore as a way to keep hers

Her outfits always has at least 4 different colors in it.

No stranger to neon colors, she has a pair of overalls that are neon rainbow and covered in gummy candy and she only wears them with a neon green tee, Evie and Carlos hate this outfits, Jay loves it because of the disappointment it brings to the two fashion fans

Dizzy’s outfits in the movie were colorful obviously but they should have been just more over the top

She loves patterns and has no fear of pattern mixing

definitely owns some funky earrings, clay rings, and statement necklaces

puts beads on her shoe laces, especially on her converse (they were white ones, she drew all over them)

Auradon Kids

Ben

Okay so Ben’s animated and movie outfits were bad, you can’t convince me of anything else

Why was Ben not dressed in the soft boy aesthetic? You’re trying to tell me that Belle’s son wouldn’t be a soft boy?

He has a jean jacket with his father’s beast symbol painted on the back

Absolutely loves graphic crewnecks, often layers them over collared shirts

He and Carlos go shopping together often in their free time

Lover of funky crew socks, ones with paintings, patterns, logos, whatever. But his socks always match

After he and Mal started Dating, he bought a white jean jacket and let her paint it, he wears it all the time even though it didn’t match his original clothing, he bought more clothes in her color scheme to match it

He owns like 6 pairs of high top converse (light blue, yellow, white, navy, black, and Purple after getting the jacket back from Mal)

Chad

Listen, out of everyone he was the closest to how I imagined he should be, that being said, he had a little soft boy thing going on in some movies that I don’t think fit his personality

Polos and button ups are basically all he owns, but he does have some of those pastel simply southern esc graphic tees (Southern people probably know what I’m on about, all the guys who act like Chad at my school have like 5 of them each)

Owns 6 pairs of those horrid little southern boy pastel shorts in different shades of blue (plus 1 white pair)

Will not wear jeans, ever, the only pants he owns are khakis

All over the shirts that have logos embroidered into the shirt over the chest.

Definitely gets asked if he’s on the way to golf/ the country club, the joke is that he is, he has to meet his father there after school

prep.jpg

Audrey

Listen, I’m not an Audrey stan, but they did her so dirty in the first movie

She should have been the stereotypical mean girl outfit wise, I mean, mini skirts, all pastels

Owns a pink teddy coat, and a white one, she actually cares about if they get dirty though, takes good care of them

definitely has a collection of tennis skirts, pairs them with sweaters/crewnecks or blouses that have a slight puff to the sleeve

The type of girl to wear rufflely rompers on her birthday every year, pink, white, or baby blue obviously

loves those tiny shoulder bags

preppy and looks good in it.

cropped polos and tube tops

Jane

This account is a Jane should have been cottage core/ fairy core fan page, her outfits were almost there, just not there, she’s literally a fairy but can’t use magic nor did they let her dress like one, I hate it here

Baby girl loves gingham and floral patterns, some of her dresses are a little more to her mother’s taste than hers (her mother bought them) but as long as it’s a pattern she likes she will wear it.

Cardigans are her best friend, she owns one in multiple shades of pink and blue, plus a white one (all of her clothing fits a pastel pink/blue/white color scheme)

Babydoll dresses her a her favorite style of them (the one I put in the top right corner is what I imagine her birthday dress as)

People try to mockingly ask if she’s on her way to a tea party/picnic (like they do with Chad and the country club) if the answer isn’t actually yes one of her friends still say yes, no one can be rude to her about it

She owns a corset (Evie bought it for her, it made her nervous at first but she loves it)

Owns kitten heels and flats mainly also two pairs of mary janes (in white and blue)

has one of those little pearl purses that aren’t really useful but they’re cute

Lonnie

Last but not least, our funky little lesbian (she is, Jay is just her emotional support queer man) Lonnie, she sticks to the teal, blue, and pink color scheme they gave her in movie one

She mainly wears sweats (or athletic clothing) otherwise it’s graphic tees tucked in (many of them are from the men’s section)

Only wears sneakers, she has places to be but also collects them (also owns 1 pair of pink crocs, Evie tried to burn them)

Carlos and Ben talked her into wearing a collar shirt under a graphic tee once (they bought her a sleeveless button up which she hated at first) and now she does it anytime she wants to look like she put effort into her outfit.

Wears a lot of necklaces and rings (she loves to layer necklaces, she thinks it makes her sweats look less boring)

Uses a mini backpack instead of a purse, easier to carry more things.

Has two pairs of custom painted air forces.

Hates wearing bracelets but always has to have a hair tie on her wrist so they don’t feel empty .

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