#in one of the runs he managed a build that made the character look like Sanford
Text
͝ ꒡ ͝ 𖣣 ͝ ꒡ ͝
reader ( accidentally or not ) speaking in their mothers tounge to their significant other ( who ៸ that i'm praying for ៸ doesn't know a single tear drop of their sweethearts' language ) 𓈒
— sfw , perhaps ooc , gender neutral reader : i write whatever i think suits the character for said scenario . ( sorry ) new to blogging + writing ,,, spare some mercy on my soul and butt
— characters : isagi kaiser ness ( sorry pt . 2 )
— writing with italics & bold = you're speaking your native language .
— if ur native language is act german : uhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm pretend ure speaking in a language u wanna speak in when u read thru this <3
— isagi .
you're woken by the sounds of the water running in the shared kitchen you and isagi own in your cozy household, just for the two of you, you crank your head and see that it's 7:41 am in the morning on the blindingly bright red clock next to your nightstand .
you groan as you sit up and decide its time to embrace the day instead of sleeping in bed all day, which, you wish was an option (it's not)
you sleepily walk over to the kitchen near your living room to find your dearly beloved, isagi, making breakfast for the both of you, seeing the sight of him cooking and washing two glass cups for the both of you makes your heart crumble apart and rebuild itself back up with stronger love for him .
as you reach your grubby hands out to him, wrapping them around the raven-haired boy as you place your head in the slot of his neck, drawing a surprised noise at the touch and a gentle smile painting his soft face when he realized it was just you .
"ah, good morning y/n," "mmh, good morning dear ." "you know, I've been wondering, would you perfer waffle or— what ."
the room shuts out all noise from the outside as it builds up with silence with you two, you lift your head up with a confused look .
"what ?" you ask to the blue eyed boy, as he replies with "what, what . what did you say just now ?" ". . good morning dear ?"
a few seconds run through the clock ticking that you can hear in your living room before your brain processes what you said, you chuckle as you stuff your face in the football players neck again, you've just realized you've never spoken in your mothers tounge to your own boyfriend before .
the raven-haired boy laughs at the tickling sensation in his neck as he manages to let out a reply that comes along with shaken laughter "what— what's funny ?" "nothing— it's just that I forgot I never spoke to you in my language before, 'm love ." you speak out as you draw out a smile on your face "then tell me what you've said, I'm quite curious ."
you let out a hum as you settle within your thoughts, you reply back with a simple "no, I want you to guess ."
-
safe to say the whole breakfast montage of your beloved making it was just going with you repeatedly saying "no" and isagi looping around with his guesses as he looks like his brain will impale itself if he doesn't get it right this instant .
until you both reach the couch as you settle next to one another with your food in your hands, slicking you both together as if you'd die being separated, "if it's not my other answer then it has to be—" "baby, I only said 'good morning dear' ."
you confess as you stuff your mouth with the delicious morning breakfast your beloved made (with immense struggles cz he's confused as shit on what to do and countless reckless mistakes with the food butttt also love in it) .
" ah ."
-
pt. 2 of safe to say the following week you're seeing isagi on the couch on duolingo on your iPad, going through his daily course of his lessons to learn your language
alsooo pt. 3 of safe to say you couldn't believe your heart could grow even more love and endearment at the sight full of effort and determination from and for the one you call your (soontobehusband) boyfriend .
sometimes you wonder how you even pulled him, but sometimes he also wonders how he even pulled you (he wonders about that more than you do for him at a concerning amount)
— kaiser .
it was a thursday night and you just came back home earlier from a busy day, draining all of the remaining energy you've saved up in the morning to start your day .
you quickly fell asleep the moment a single strand of your hair felt in contact with your pillow, not even bothered to change your clothes to more comfortable ones .
a few hours go by and you stir awake by a voice calling something out, you were too tired to even hear the voice your boyfriend, kaiser, who had been calling out your name for the past few minutes around the entire house looking for you everywhere, and I mean everywhere .
unfortunately for you, you were too tired to even function properly with your head, like it suddenly didn't want to work anymore for a bit and dozed off, too tired to even think and only came up with a reply that goes along with the lines of "ugh, mihya . . five more minutes, let me sleep ."
you could've hear a pin be dropped due to the silence in the room, but you groan as you get shaken by the shoulder by a large hand on it, you open your eyes to see it was kaiser .
"yes yes . . hello to y—" "repeat what you said ."
well, that was a shocker to hear because you opened your eyes fully now to hear him out on what he just told you
"huh— what, what did i say ? did i say something wrong ? . ."
your curiosity and worries come out as you wonder if you told him off with something bad while you were still waking up .
but it soon washes away when you hear the blond guy go all awkward and try to repeat what you said, stumbling over the pronouncing and the words, then it clicked that you spoke in your mothers tounge subconsciously to him and you bark out a tired laugh .
he did not find it funny, as he was confused on what you said to him .
-
then a few minutes later you find yourself still in bed with the bi colored mane guy's head on your chest, wrapping his smeared arms with blue and black colored tattoos around you as he asked— no, made you speak in your native language to sleep since his only reasoning was just:
"your voice sounded pretty when you said that mien lieben . I wish to hear more, won't you do that for me ?"
then after a few more minutes of you speaking in a soft toned voice, ranting of your day with a mellowed tone, you look down to see your beloved sleep, drool running down his mouth and in a vulnerable state, it almost made you wanna coo, but you decided against that for today and decided to fall asleep along with him as well, since you were still tired .
-
not fun to say that he made you lullaby him to sleep in your native language every night of each passing day you two spend together since all his reasons were "i like hearing your voice," "it's easier to sleep when mien schatz speaks in such beautiful language to me every night," and a bunch of german coming out of his mouth, as if he's expecting for you to suddenly know his mother's tounge as well .
but you don't mind doing that for him, right ?
— A/N : to everybody who doesn't speak German ( me included ), he called you " my darling " and " my love " as pet names, u can continue ur reading now <3
— ness .
it was 4:27 in the evening and you're sitting on your couch with your boyfriend, ness, who's rambling on about magic related things to you as you lean your head on his shoulder, him wrapping an arm around your waist as he keeps on talking
you stare at him with nothing but love and adore in your eyes, and that applies to your smile too, only going "mhm" to signal that you're listening to him, even if you weren't, he wouldn't mind that .
he paused for a second to catch his breath since whenever he talks about his fixated interest to you, he never stops to take a breather once when you allow him to talk about it
an idea popped in your head, something you think is so good that if you were in a cartoon, a light bulb would be painted over your head .
the room filled with your sweethearts hearty laughter and heavy breathing, you took your chance to say what you wanna say as you reach out to his unoccupied hand and interwine your fingers together .
"I love you, ness, you're the best thing I've ever been blessed with in this life and i hope i keep that blessing with me till i die next to you, thank you ."
you said what you wanted to tell him for quite some time but couldn't as he was away for practice alot of the times, but felt too embarrassed to tell him directly in the language you both usually speak to one another in, so you decided to do it in your own .
ness on the other hand, looked like he was asked the most confusing question in the world by you with the smile he only shines towards you that you know is just created with love as he responds will a little " huh ."
-
later he begs for you to tell him what you said, you keep on shaking your head no with a face so red it could match the color itself !
"pleaseee. . pretty please, hübsch bitte bitte mein lieben ?"
a few more pesterings, puppy eyes and whines whenever you deny him broke you and you finally told him what you wanted to say for weeks on end, adding a few more appreciations for him in it while you had the chance to do so .
you closed your eyes and looked away in embarrassment, when you didn't hear ness speak, you look back in surprise to see his entire face being more red than your own, if he was also in a show, steam would be coming out of his head, with hearts surrounding him and covering his eyes with them .
"ness ? ."
you call out to him, as you think you might've (literally) broken him, you almost regret that when he practically jumps onto you like a puppy, instead of licking your face as one, he kisses it and your whole self repeatedly with him spewing out german phrases, some you know, some you dont .
"ich liebe dich so sehr"
"deine liebe ist mehr wert als ein diamant und ich bin damit gesegnet"
"ich werde dich niemals im jenseits gehen lassen"
and a bunch more, but these are the only ones you could make out but not necessarily understand a single thing about it .
-
so basically to summarize your whole evening and night, you were dealing with your boyfriend who was head over heels inlove with you once more about you, and you sheepishly accepting it the whole day,
but you were surprised that he never let you go of encouraging you to talk more in your mothers tounge the very next day and to hear that he talked about it to kaiser everytime they see one another,
he even changed his contact name to "puppy who's inlove" because of the amount of times he's heard your name in their convos has given him a huge fuckin' migraine even after three weeks since that even happend .
he'll never let this go actually .
— A/N : lol authors note once again for other non germans . ness said " pretty pretty please my dear ? " " i love you very much " " your love is more worth than a diamond and I'm blessed with it " " I'll never let you go, even in the afterlife " hehwiqaoapa ^ _ ^
i hope whoever reads this likes it 'cuz holy shit my brain is fried now lmfaoooooooooooooooo,,,,,,, so sorry for only doing 3 characters i have no fucks given for other bllk characters much to know how to write them so . eat up 41 kis and ns fans ig ?
#blue lock#blue lock x reader#blue lock scenarios#blue lock x you#bllk#blue lock x y/n#isagi yoichi#isagi x reader#michael kaiser#kaiser x reader#alexis ness#ness x reader
119 notes
·
View notes
Text
mushy may day nine !!!!
prompt: warming them up
characters: aurora & ifrit
word count: 650
summary: aurora tries her luck with a fire ghoul when the heating goes out
below the cut or on ao3 :))
She stands in the doorway of his room, a blanket roughly wrapped around her midriff, caught in the door as it trails behind her. It’s as if she’s been frozen in both time and temperature given how she just stops once the fire ghoul wakes up, rubbing his bleary eyes.
“R-rory?” Ifrit asks, processing the sudden appearance of the new summon in his bedroom. Why his bedroom? “What’s up, pumpkin?”
Through chattering teeth she manages to mumble out an explanation. “Cold, ‘n heating b-broken in the wing,” she stutters. “Can I…?” Her sentence runs off into nothing, her brain subdued by the cold.
“Oh- uh- yeah of course, let me just put on my dressing gown and I’ll be out of your hair.” He scrambles to get out of bed, not even noticing he’s still wearing his I ♡ MILFs boxers. The ghoulette giggles when he turns around to reveal the text on them, the most coherent noise she’s made since arriving at his door.
“No, silly! I want you in the bed too, how else is it going to keep warm? The heating’s fucked everywhere, even in here.” Ifrit goes to touch the radiator and, sure enough, it’s stone cold, much like the walls throughout the Ministry.
Disrobing once more, a confused look still paints his face, “Why me? What’s that little shit Dew up to now, hmm?”
“Nothing! Just everyone else already went to him so I figured you’d be the less popular choice and you have more surface area,” she says cheekily.
“Oh?! So you’re calling me lonely and fat? How lovely!” He teases, smiling wide, striding towards Aurora to pick up bridal style.
She gasps as Ifrit picks her up, cocooning her in the blanket. “Nuh uh! Jus’ saying Dewdrop’s overrated and you’re built like a dorito.” He carries her the short distance to the bed, it’s entirely unnecessary but they both revel in the faux act of chivalry on Ifrit’s part. He knows damn well Aurora is a princess and will treat her like one even if it’s through the lens of a goofy idiot.
The mattress wobbles as Ifrit ungracefully dumps the ghoulette onto his bed. Aurora inspects the plush navy sheets before plumping the accompanying pillows and dragging her finger along the headboard to inspect for dust. “Hmm seems to be up to standard Mr Fritter,” she says sternly, though Ifrit can see the smile building up and threatening to break her character. “I can confirm I will be gracing your bed with my presence today. Thank you for your application to Rory Bed Hog Limited and welcome aboard!” With that, she flops down, pulling the duvet right up to her ears, the blanket she arrived in abandoned.
“Why thank you Ms Rora, we here at Fire Ghoul Incorporated do hope you enjoy your stay. Please let us know of any requirements you may have to make your visit as smooth as possible.”
The ghoulette attempts a reply but they both burst out laughing before she can; her hearty chuckles jostling the bed. Both ghouls take a moment to collect themselves, taking deep breaths and averting their eyes from each other’s gaze because they know the second they look up they’ll crack up again. With one final grounding breath Aurora asks, extending her hand to the fire ghoul, “Join me?”
“My pleasure,” Ifrit replies, enveloping her hand with his and jumping into the bed with her. He pulls up the duvet and blankets, near covering Aurora’s small frame in them.
The room soon warms up as Ifrit begins to purr, Aurora’s hand in his. With the two of them cosy as can be, it’s no time at all before they’re both back asleep, the worries of the day faded as they just exist with each other. Aurora makes a very sleepy note to come visit the friendly giant more often.
#trifle writes#the band ghost#the band ghost fanfiction#nameless ghouls#aurora ghoulette#ifrit ghoul#mushy may 2024
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
I was watching a friend play TBOI with A LOT of mods (I think the main one he was excited about about was the Fiend Folio one)
When he finished the run I doddles some sillies :)
#IsaArt#The Binding Of Isaac#TBOI#the phrase was part of the mod#there was a lucky cookie thingy#that every time it broke it would send a message#ONE OF THEM WAS GOD DAMN IT DEIMOS-#he had 2 tbhs following him so I drew them#also a frozen among us#our 3 sons#in one of the runs he managed a build that made the character look like Sanford#we have an entire tboi joke of ‘becoming hank’ bc once he did a run that the character looked like Hank#now it’s become Sanford
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just a pill | 18+
Warnings/Tags: NSFW, explicit sexual content, afab/female reader, alternate universe, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, fingering, squirting, degradation kink, kuroo is mean in bed but a sweetheart otherwise, praise kink, pet names, dumbification, overstimulation, dacryphilia, cock warming, drugged sex (but it's consensual), SET IN THE FUTURE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18
Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Female Reader
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
“Look at you,” His voice is rough, low, and sinful as he looks up at you with a small smirk, eyes hooded, while he has you spread out on his lap—
His muscled thighs provide the perfect amount of comfort for you as you barely manage to keep yourself up—desperately clinging onto his shoulder as your lower lip wobbles.
Kuroo pouts, almost mocking you with his eyebrows softening, and lets his back lean into the bed frame a little more as he continues to fuck two of his thick fingers inside your cunt. “You must feel so numb by now hm, baby?”
You shudder, feeling hazy and warm and achy, but you somehow still manage to nod your head as you suck in a deep breath.
The pills you took were really strong.
Kuroo was initially hesitant about it—because he knew just how much of a light-weight you are when it comes to getting intoxicated.
But then you gave him that look—with eyes so big and pleading—telling him that you trust him to take care of you and—
And how was he supposed to say no to that?
Of course, he’ll take care of you but still—
These pills aren’t exactly weak.
Which is made very clear right this instant as your eyes turn droopy, and you feel your entire body turn numb but alight with fire at the same time.
But you don’t regret it one bit.
No.
Not when it means Kuroo gets to treat you like this—like some doll for him to tease and fuck however he wants.
To whisper sweet, dirty words and handle you in ways that have you turning into a puddle.
The kiss he plants on your cheek is gentle and sweet, and your fingers curl into the skin of his shoulders as he slips his two fingers out to run them through your sopping folds to rub your clit. “Were you keeping count for me?”
You swallow thickly, feeling your mouth dry. “T-two.”
He’s made you orgasm twice already.
And he hasn’t even fucked you yet.
You hear him hum, then you feel the warmth of his mouth trail down your neck until his lips find that sensitive spot that makes your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open with a soft sigh.
Then you feel him murmur against your skin, “You think you can give me another like this?”
And you don’t think you can orgasm anymore.
Not in this state. You feel so limp and jelly—simply sitting and taking whatever Kuroo gives you—
It’d honestly be a miracle if you cum again.
You hum, nodding anyway as best as you can even if your head feels too heavy.
Kuroo’s smile is wide and proud and—
“Oh god—” You whine when you feel Kuroo pinch your clit, feeling a sting of heat shoot up your stomach and chest.
“Shh,” He soothes you, sliding his fore and middle finger back down your folds, your fluids creaming his fingers before he pushes them back into your fluttering cunt and curls them. “I got you, darling, don’t worry.”
And you never do when it comes to him.
He knows what he’s doing—enough for you to completely let your mind go and close your eyes as everything around you disappears and all you feel is liquid pleasure filling your blood.
You circle your arms around his neck as support, your chin resting on his shoulder, and Kuroo kisses the side of your head as he rolls his wrists, his fingers curling and massaging your walls to build that tight tension in your belly again.
“You take it so well for me,” Kuroo lets out a low groan, grinding his palm against your clit as he finger fucks you—while his fingers get all sticky with your fluids, and his other hand holds onto your hips. “Such a pretty little doll for me to use, hm?”
You can only nod at this point as your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs with a breathy moan—your thoughts move like sludge and before you can comprehend what’s happening—
Your orgasm goes through you with a small snap—causing your lower spine to draw tight and your muscles to tense as you moan, clinging onto Kuroo and riding out your third orgasm for the night.
But he’s not done with you.
“Good baby,” Kuroo drawls, voice throaty, and he pulls out his fingers that are slicked with your fluids, and he uses that same hand to smack your ass—making you jolt. “Look at me.”
And you do.
Slowly.
You pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, and Kuroo’s pupils dilate when he notices just how mentally gone you are.
Then he smiles, all gentle, and tilts his head to the side. “You tired?”
Yes.
God—you just want to rest now.
The pills have made you tired, yes, but it’s the orgasm after orgasm that’s taken a bigger toll on you.
You whine as you nod, but Kuroo only huffs out a low chuckle in response and squeezes your ass. “That’s too bad, isn’t it?”
He’s quick but gentle when he guides you to lay on your back in the middle of the bed, and he takes the rest of his sweatpants off—letting his cock out to give it a few strokes.
And the thing is—you can tell him to stop.
Just one word and he’ll drop the whole thing—take you for a bath and call it a night with sweet kisses and gentle massages as he cuddles you to sleep.
But as tired as you are—
You don’t want this to stop.
Kuroo’s body envelops you entirely when he hovers over you, one hand beside your head—his body heat so close against yours—while his other hand guides the fat head of his cock through your soaked slit.
“Your pussy is so messy,” Kuroo’s groan is ragged, and he breathes out heavily as he rocks his hips slightly to have your pussy lips wrap around his girth—coating his length with juices as the tip of his dick kisses your clit. “So sloppy and wet, baby.”
You can’t speak.
You’re too busy gasping and mumbling something between a moan and a whine as you scramble to hold onto his muscled back—your legs spreading and wrapping around his waist to bring him closer.
“So needy, hm?” Kuroo teases as leans down to give your lips a sweet pull with his, kissing you so deeply that you feel your whole body crumble from it and you nearly let out a tiny sob.
“It’s okay,” He says while pushing the head inside, immediately stretching you wider than his fingers can ever do, and you suck in a sharp breath with tears beginning to form.
And Kuroo can see the tears lacing your eyelashes—making them wet and shiny—and he merely swipes at one of your eyes with his thumb so tenderly before leaning back.
And his voice is soft—a huge contrast to the words that slip out of his mouth as he holds onto your waist with both hands, pushing his cock inside you until you think you might feel it in your lungs.
“Don’t cry, love,” Kuroo coos as he pulls back, the tip of his dick catching at your hole, causing a trickle of your juices to gush out with how wet and messy you are. “You just need to lay there and be pretty for me, okay?”
“O-okay,” You breathe out harshly, your lips, head, arms—everything—feel numb. “Please, ‘Surou, I—”
Your sentence gets cut short when he decides to push back in at that very moment—making your words bleed into a moan as you feel every part of him spread you open.
God—
“I know,” Kuroo groans, rolling his hips to set a pace, hearing the wet squelch that your pussy makes as he fucks you—making his head spin. “I know, baby, I’ll make you feel all sore and full with my cum, okay? Just how you like it.”
And he sticks to that promise soon after.
He fucks you deep and slow, dragging it out and building that tight ball of heat in your lower stomach until everything in your body feels tense and ready to explode.
Kuroo stuffs his dick inside your pussy that’s dripping with every thrust—making a mess on the bed and between your thighs—while one of his hands comes to push down on your belly.
“Oh—oh fuck—”
You shake, eyes wide, and your mouth is agape with a silent scream from the pressure on your stomach—feeling the twin sensation of being so fucking full with his cock and him hitting your g-spot over and over and over and—
Oh, god.
“I—“
You can’t speak.
You feel mindless and tongue-heavy.
And Kuroo can tell by the way you hear him let out a knowing chuckle, his pace growing more harsh and needy as he presses his palm on your stomach even lower. “My pretty doll all fucked stupid that she can’t talk?”
Your entire body shakes, feeling heat flush in your cheeks.
You nod, panting, uncaring of the degrading words, and Kuroo’s smirk grows. “Poor baby, those pills really did make you all dumb for me, huh?”
You know he doesn’t mean it.
Even when he says those words out loud—and through your addled mind—you can hear the notes of affection hanging on those words.
And for some odd reason—it just spurs you on, even more, making you lose it as you arch your back, your orgasm ready to combust.
And Kuroo must be able to tell as he lets out a drawn-out groan, raw and low and heavy, and he starts to rock his hips faster—fucking you with the intention to make you feel him in your guts.
“So tight for me, my love, god—” You cry out a moan, your hands gripping the sheets until your knuckles turn white as Kuroo fucks you through your fourth orgasm for the night.
This one feels like a snap against your clit, an explosion of heat and buzzing pleasure spreading throughout your body, and your vision turns blurry as you shake.
But that’s not the only thing.
“Fuck, baby, keep going,” You faintly hear Kuroo’s voice, but you have lost every sense of self and feeling to know what he’s talking about and the fact that you’re squirting all over his dick—soaking the bed and his thighs in the process.
He continues to fuck you through it—leaning down to kiss you with his tongue licking inside your mouth like he needs to taste every inch of you—
And all you do is lay there and take it, silent tears running down your cheeks as he pumps his fat cock into your squirting pussy—all abused and puffy and drenched—until his dick finally throbs, letting out thick spurts of cum inside you.
Filling you up like he said he would.
“You’re such a good girl, taking me all so well like a good little slut, baby,” Kuroo mumbles against your quivering mouth, licking your lips and then your cheek to catch a few tears. “I’ll make sure you keep all of it, okay?”
You’re so fucking out of it.
You don’t care about the mess or how dirty you are.
Your eyelids are ready to drop and you’re so close to passing out that you move with little resistance as Kuroo carefully turns you on your side to lay on the bed—and he goes to lie down, cock still inside you, pulling your back flush against his chest, your fluids and sweat mixing seamlessly.
He kisses your neck and holds you tight, both of you breathing heavily as your bodies move in tandem, making you keep his dick warm for the time being to make sure his cum stays inside.
And then—
“You okay?”
Even though sex with Kuroo is always mind-blowing.
Without a doubt one of the best things to experience in life—
The way he treats you after?
The tender kisses, light touches, words full of praises and affection right after?
That’s what you love just as much.
He knows how to make you feel loved—secure—after sex.
You hum, sleepy and sluggish, and snuggle up to him, your pussy still twitching every now and then as you two lay there, cuddled and basking in the other’s warmth. “I’m okay.”
He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever been with, treating you better than you’ve ever known by other people—even if he fucks you like you’re a whore sometimes.
And you honestly wouldn’t ask for it any other way.
End.
Masterpost
#haikyuu#haikyū!!#haikyu smut#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu fic#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#kuroo smut#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#haikyuu kuroo#Kuroo x Reader smut#kuroo x you#kuroo x y/n#kuroo tetsuro x you#kuroo tetsurou smut
660 notes
·
View notes
Text
Secrets behind the curtain. // Actor!Aemond Targaryen x Manager!Reader || MODERN AU
Summary: Aemond takes out his frustration of losing an award on you.
WARNINGS: mdni, dubious consent, p in v sex, unprotected sex, tiddy sucking, degradation, dacryphilia, car (it's a limousine) sex, slightly dark!aemond, riding, messy sex, power imbalance, rigged award show, + not proofread, please lemme know if I missed any.
WC: 1.7K
A/N: I cooked this while trynna complete my other wips like bro 😭 adhd be like 😋 also this isn't dark enough to be tagged under mae:dark!content but it does contain dubious consent (reader is implied to find the situation inappropriate to fuck) so yeah, a heads up // divider creds: @cafekitsune
“And the best actor award goes to…” The host trails off, leaving room for suspense and Aemond leans back relaxed on his chair, knowing that he would be winning.
“Jason Lannister!”
As the host announces the name, your blood runs cold, you notice Aemond twitch slightly in his seat, he shoots you a glare and you look down at your feet.
Aemond watches in anger as Jason goes up the stage and collects the award, “That asshole isn't even that good at acting.” He scoffs and you swallow, “Aemond, the cameras.” you whisper and he rolls his eyes, putting on a fake expression of a smile, as though he's happy that Jason won, but you know the truth.
After this award, a small break was given to artists to freshen up, redo their makeup, or relieve themselves, but for Aemond that wasn't the case, “We're leaving.” He tells you and you look at him in shock, “But- the award show hasn't ended yet? If we live now, the press might notice and create articles on how you left right after you lost.” You reason, trying to catch up to Aemond as he was making his way through the alleyway, reaching his limousine which was parked behind the building, he checked the area for any press before he turned to face you.
“And whose fault was that? You brought me here, saying that I would win, look what happened now.” He grabs you by your cheeks roughly and you swallow thickly, “You were supposed to win! The judges evaluated that your performance was better but the Lannisters might've played foul.” You tried to reason but he scoffs, making his way over to the limousine and getting in.
“Where the fuck is the driver?” He asks you, when he sees you getting inside along with him, and you shrug, “He probably went to take a break– but Aemond please, your image will be ruined if you leave now.” You beg, yet he remains quiet and sits down, you shut the door behind you and sit down as well, awkward silence filling up the air.
There was no convincing Aemond once he made up his mind, so you dialled the drivers number but he didn't pick up, and you took this as a sign to persuade Aemond one last time, as if he'll suddenly change his mind even though he refused multiple times.
“Aemond, the press will write about how you were upset that you didn't win and left right after, besides that isn't the only award you are nominated for, you are also nominated for best character in the series, which will take place after this break.” You tell him calmly and he scoffs, “Yeah, just so i can lose that award too right?” He glares at you, and you shut up.
You sigh to yourself, knowing that you'd have to be the one dealing with damage control, Otto and Alicent would not be pleased, considering how Aemond had already once gotten into a controversy for taunting his nephews at an award show, questioning their birth indirectly.
You are about to dial the driver's number once again before your phone is yanked off from your grip, your hand is then grabbed and you stumble forward into Aemond arms.
He wastes no time in unbuttoning your shirt revealing your bra, he untucks your shirt and pulls it off you, throwing it on the ground and then begins mouthing at your breast, and kissing on your neck.
“Aemond— we can't right now—” You try to protest but he interrupts you, “Shut the fuck up.” He grits his teeth and you immediately obey.
He pushes you down onto the seat and pulls your pants off, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and feeling vulnerable.
You open your mouth to protest again but he slams his lips against you, leaving you unable to speak. The kiss is aggressive, hungry and anger filled, he bites your lip enough to make it painful but not to draw blood, and you whine into the kiss. His hands roam up your body and he finds your breasts, squeezing them tightly and mostly aggressively.
He pulls away and begins to undo his own pants, unbuckling belt and pulling his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard and leaking cock, he unbuttons his shirt slightly, feeling hot.
Your panties are pulled off in an instant and thrown to where the rest of your clothes are, same with your bra, you grip the edge of slim seats to not fall off when he grabs your legs and spreads them wide, before leaning forward and causing your knees to push up against your chest.
He spits on your cunt, his hands now holding the underside of your knees, he lets one of them in order to line his cock up against your entrance before going back to the underside of your knees again.
You gasp when his cock stretches your walls, throwing your head back in pleasure, Aemond doesn't waste any moment and begins to ram harshly into your cunt and you bite your lip to prevent noises from coming out.
“Fucking slut, look at how wet you've become.” He says harshly, his hips thrusting in and out at a fast pace, he grabs your arms and pins them upwards, “'Foul play' you say? It doesn't matter how much money they've spent, you should've spent more.” He grits his teeth, still remembering your words from earlier. “B-but that wouldn't be fair–” You are cut off with a light slap to your cheek, before he grips it tightly, “Fair? Who cares about fairness? Look what happened now.” He spits in your mouth.
You swallow, knowing you have no choice, a small smirk forms on his lips at what you've done, likely satisfied with your behaviour.
But soon he remembers that this situation didn't occur because he simply wanted to fuck his favourite woman like all the other times, no, he was mad at you.
“You're so fucking useless, do you know that?” He asks and you sniff, staying silent.
“Useless whore, you couldn't even make me win the award, the only thing you're good for is being a cocksleeve and a cunt to dump my cum into.” He degrades you and you can feel the tears begin to form in your eyes at his words.
Yet he finds joy in those tears.
“You're crying now? Imagine how I felt when I lost the award huh? How embarrassing was it for me? Especially to that fucking Jason Lannister.” His thrusts become even more brutal.
Your body jolts up and down the seat at the impact, but you still remain silent, the only noises that leave your mouth being whines and moans.
“You're fired.”
Your eyes shoot wide open at those words and you begin to shake, “No- no, please!” You beg and he chuckles, “Desperate to keep this job that much huh? Why? Is it because of my cock?” He asks and you shake your head no, “Please–” You beg and he seems to be in thought.
He suddenly pulls you up, changing positions.
He is now sitting straight with you straddling him, your arms gripping his shoulders for balance.
“Do you really want to keep this job?” He asks and you nod eagerly, “Well, you know what to do.” He says and you nod.
You raise your hips slightly before going down again, you set a decent pace and begin riding him, you bounce up and down on his cock, gripping his shoulders tight, whilst he grips your hips.
“You're so fucking pretty like this.” He mutters, pressing kisses on your breasts before pulling your nipple into his mouth, your pace falters slightly, yet his mouth remains on your breast, suckling on the nipple, twirling his tongue around the bud, and groaning in pleasure.
He leaves your breast with a wet pop before giving the other one the same attention, “I love these tits so much, I can only imagine how delicious it would be if they swell up with milk.” He sighs, rubbing his face in between them and placing a kiss on your sternum.
You begin picking up the pace again, slightly leaning forward which makes the tip of his cock hit the sweet spot, making you let out a moan, you feel his grip tighten on your hips, and soon starts to thrust upwards, matching your pace.
“Fuck Aem– I'm so close.” You close your eyes, “I know baby, me too.” He kisses your neck, and due to the repeated hits at your sweet spot, you finish with a loud moan and immediately fall limp at the impact, your breathing uneven as you rest your cheek on his shoulder.
He thrusts a few more times before he comes too with a grunt, painting your walls white with his seed. You both stay like that for a moment until you break the silence with a question, “Are you actually gonna fire me?” You question and he chuckles, “And miss out having the best fucking company ready 24/7 for me? No. I'm no such fool.” He answers.
Suddenly your phone begins to ring, you get off him and pick the call up and Aemond watches you to do so.
You gasp when the other person reveals the news to you, and you turn to look at Aemond, who looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you end the conversation with the other person, cutting the call.
“The award show is cancelled, apparently the Lannisters have been exposed for the foul play they had done.” you tell him, and his face immediately becomes bright with a smile on his face, and soon it is replaced with a smirk as he watches you put your clothes on.
“You better prepare yourself for a round two at my house.” He tells you and quickly pulls his pants up, before you can say anything, the door opens
“Sorry madam, I wasn't able to pick up the call, my phone died when I tried to.” The driver apologises and gets into the vehicle, seating himself on the driver's seat and quickly starts the limousine, and you sit down next to Aemond, who rests his hand on your thigh, causing goosebumps to rise as you oddly anticipate what's about to come.
The ride home felt like an eternity.
— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#aemond smut#aemond targaryen x reader smut#aemond x reader smut#aemond x y/n#aemond x fem!reader#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#house of the dragon smut#hotd smut#hotd x reader smut#hotd x reader#x reader#reader insert#tw: dubcon#aemond targaryen
728 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey, same anon asking about yandere stuff. I'm so glad to hear!! Of course if you want to, may I please request yandere Vox with the reader? Like how they try to run from him? Perfectly fine with it being a female reader as I am one. And I don't mind how you write it. Do whatever you please! I love seeing others' interpretation of the characters 🖤 No rush!
YOU CAN'T RUN. HELL, YOU CAN'T HIDE EITHER.
thank you lovely anon! I love the concept of Yandere Vox! Hope this is good :) let me know your thoughts in another ask if you'd like! Lots of love!
Summary: Vox doesn't often fall in love often, no. Well that was until you came around- and you wanted a job with Valentino of all people? No. That would never fly with him. He'd make you work with him instead, like an intern or something? Hell, anything to make you stay near him. Anything to get him as close to you as possible.
Genres: Angst with a small amount of sexuality
NOT PROOF READ (yet)
Warnings/Tags: Yandere Vox, Insecurity, Reader is naive, manipulation, mind control, exploitation, creepy behavior, masking, contractual agreements, reader lacks hell experience, Vox is violent, Vox lacks empathy, angst, swearing, overall kinda depressing (LET ME KNOW IF MISSING ANY)
Pt 2
_______
You can't believe your eyes when you step into that tower, the pink glass adorning the outsides making your eyes shimmer. You have a job interview with Valentino today, after waiting for (probably too long) to get a job somewhere.
You see, hell worked slightly differently to earth. Where things in earth worked in a more of a 'work and make work' sort of way, Hell is more 'work, make work, and fight'
You'd managed for the past months to live in a small apartment that happened to be owned by someone who got killed in an extermination. It wasn't your plan to impersonate a sinner and squat in their home, but you have to get by somehow, right?
Well- it also wasn't your plan to be a porn star. But no where else seemed to want to take you. You're small, too weak to be taken by anyone else. People on the street told you that you were made for the screen, that your body was perfect. Some even tried to pay you copious amounts of cash just for you to suck them off. And you hate it.
At least the elevator of the building is cozy.
Vox on the other hand was having the best day of his life: or in his definition, a day where Valentino doesn't have a stupid breakdown that Vox doesn't have to solve.
He loves to watch his people as they indulge in his technology, he loves to watch everyone become obsessed with him and his media, he loves to be in control of all of these people. He'll watch every screen around him with focus, taking in their reactions as he bottle feeds them content.
Could he be with his boyfriend, Val? Yes. Does he want to? Hell no. He doesn't love Val. Plain and simple in his eyes. He has Valentino to get his business along. To make him more powerful. He'll do what he has to to be the most powerful he can be. Even if it means toying with people around him.
Val doesn't think he's capable of falling in love with anyone in this horrible underworld he inhabits. Everyone here is fucked. he is fucked. Plus, he doesn't know anyone here who he'd connect with anyway.
Or well that's what he did think until right now. There is a girl in the central elevator that looks awfully out of place, causing Vox to turn the entirety of his attention onto her. She looks like a regular old sinner, yes- but still she stands it like a sore thumb against the few people also in the central elevator. Where everyone's boring physique was her own enticing one stands. Where everyone else's two tone personalities stand her own colorful and bright one shimmer in his 2-D irises.
And then comes that odd feeling in his chest, this weird bubbling feeling of emotions that causes his eyes to tear up ever so slightly. This feeling, it's addicting. He wants to grind her up into a smoothie and drink her up, making the feeling sit there forever.
Something is wrong with him: he thinks.
With bated breath vox looked at the floor the elevator was approaching, figuring out where the girl is exactly going. There are only few reasons a sinner shows up at V tower anyway: to get a job with Valentino, or to turn yourself in if you'd wronged them. The elevator number reads '10'. She's going up to the business floor where Valentino currently is.
A sudden twist finds its way into his stomach, a horrible twist that makes his head burn with anger. Who does Val think he is? Having a girl such as her working for him. He. Couldn't let this happen, no no no no no no no. Why would he even want to exploit such a girl? She's supposed to be loves and cherished for everything she is.
The only reason she'd want to work with Val is because she has no other thing to do. He needs to offer her a job- or something to keep her from giving herself away to Valentino. Something to keep her as close to him as possible- like an intern or an assistant or anything.
Anything: Vox thinks.
Not often is Vox so reckless, not often at all. He likes to think he's decorum and well-adjusted. Likes to think he's a figure of this time. Of his time.
But right now, all he wants is this beautiful fucking girl to look at him in his eyes. Is it selfish? To want something so bad you feel like you could to horrible things to get it? Probably. But this is hell. And as an overlord of hell he can take what he wants. For once he doesn't care.
--- 666 ---
You take a step from the elevator, looking around the rather nauseating long and rounded hallway with squinted eyes. You can barely remember where you're supposed to be going anymore. You're supposed to meet Val inside one of these many, many studios. But soon enough as you start to venture through the halls on light, unsure steps you find yourself unable to read the words and numbers on each door.
Something is wrong, and you're unable to focus. There's this buzzing sound in your ears, a very faint but obvious buzzing that's causing your brain to go fuzzy. You can't feel your body anymore, it's just walking down the hallway in painful circles.
Suddenly that tether in your brain snaps with a loud crack, and your face to face with a television. You're still standing, in this long hallway, but now you're looking into the dark eyes of a TV screen. Wait- Eyes?
"Oh, Hello there sinner, are you looking for Valentino?" He asks, voice weirdly distant yet close all at the same time. His smile is large, almost devilish looking as he stares down at you.
You feel on edge, and your head still has a very faint buzzing lining itself.
"Oh, erm, Yeah.. I can't seem to recall what room-" You flinch as he hooks an arm around your neck walking you down the hallway once again with a smirk. There's a weird edge to him that you can't pin down, this whole interaction almost seems.. forced? Oh, there you go again, putting labels on things. Stop overthinking!
"Don't worry your pretty head about it! I'll take you to him," he says, unhooking his arm from your shoulder; only for him to rather sensually drag his hand across your shoulder blades until it's claws barely rest against your shoulder.
"But you know," Vox begins, swinging himself around so he stands in front of you, hands resting on either of your shoulders. You have to stop yourself from bumping into his chest. "You don't have to work for him." He says, his voice turning slightly more TV like and distant as he speaks.
"What do you mean..?" You ask, pushing his hand off of your shoulder with a painful twist of butterflies. A type of butterflies that you can't understand.
"Well, you seem like the type of gal to enjoy.." he looks you up and down, moving his hands from your shoulders as he grins. "Taking orders," you tilt your head at his words, confused. He shakes his head to himself, looking away for a moment with a slight frown before staring back, smiling brightly.
"No, I mean that you could be my assistant! You can.." He thinks for a moment, tapping the bottom of his screen as if it were his chin. He shrugs, smiling awkwardly with furrowed brows. "Bring me drinks and such! C'mon.."
He leans down to your level again, looking into your eyes. You suddenly feel that wave of disorientation go through you again, the only thing seeming to make sense to you being.. Vox.
"You don't want to be exploited by him, do you?" He says, and you feel his screen radiating heat on your skin. The buzzing becomes more loud as he goes on, all you seem to be able to hear being his words as they drip from his vile tongue. "C'mon dear, He'll break you."
"And you don't want to be broken, Right?"
He is right. You don't want to be broken by Valentino. You don't want to be exploited. But you don't have any other choice-
Until now, that is. You have an opportunity.
You should take it, right?
The headache and buzzing dissipate, taking a chunk of your psyche along with it. You feel your feet begin to give out beneath you from the exertion, lacking balance as you wobble softly. Not wanting to faceplant into the carpet, you reach out to something, anything to hold you. It just so happens to be Vox's chest, grasping onto the fabric of his coat as you begin to slip down to the floor.
"Hey, Hey, it's okay, What's got you out of sorts?" He asks, grasping you by your waist as he lifts you back to your feet. You blink, looking around for a moment with a nervous breath. Those butterflies, again. You hate them.
"I- uh.. I dunno.." You say stutter, pushing yourself away and scratching that back of your neck.
"You're feeling better?" Vox says, dipping his lids as he tilts his head rather attractively.
You nod, looking down at the ground with a nervousness inside of you.
"Good, good.." he turns away, looking at the ground and pacing for a short amount of time "good.." he says softly to himself, turning back around and clasping his hands together as he grins.
"Now how about you follow me and we can get you set up, yeah?" He says, pressing his hand against the space between your shoulder blades as he turns back to the elevator. You look up at him, and for a moment he seems to be in his own world. At least he is until you speak.
"So what's your name, Mister?" You ask, fiddling your fingers against each other nervously. He grins, lids upturning with the smile as well. He leans down again, poking a blue claw on your cheek as buzzing blurs your brain.
"It's Vox, my dear," He says, and your brain goes soft and mushy with an emotion you cannot describe. It feels as though he's making you melt.
"Keep that in your head for me, will you princess?" He asks softly, pulling his claw up the side of your face with a manic grin.
With a sudden movement he pulls away, shrugging his hands.
"Now darling, let's get back to it, shall we?"
Something is off, and part of you wants more of it.
--- 666 ---
Mister Vox's office is large in size, walls lined with screens displaying different things across the entirety of the pride ring. You wonder what Vox may do here all day, seeing the singular seat between it all that doesn't even seem that cozy.
You assume he watches, broadcasts, does meeting, and.. does what he's doing right now, perhaps?
"What do you do all day, Mister Vox?" You ask, looking wide-eyed at the television lined walls of the area. He flinches, grinning awkwardly before bringing back his confident demeanor.
"Me? Oh, you know.. this and that- I go to meetings.. I sign paperwork, I go to meetings.." He laughs to himself, shaking his hand dismissively as he sits in his seat, spreading his legs in a man spread. You turn away from the screens, looking over at Vox as he scans the monitors with narrowed eyes. You wonder if he was doing something important before he found you.
"Uh, Mister Vox, what do I do now..?" You ask, taking a small step towards him. He tilts his head towards you, smiling as he swings his chair to face you completely.
"oh, you? You can just sit there and look pretty.." Vox looks you up and down with narrowed eyes, face blank for a long moment before bringing a small smirk onto his face. He leans back in his chair, clicking his fingers as a bundle of clothing finds it's way into your hands.
"Perhaps prettier, change into that for me will you dearest?" He says, leaning his head on his fist as his voice becomes slightly more distant. You look at him, confused as you clutch the blue and red clothing to your chest.
"Okay.. Where do I change, Mister Vox?" You say, fiddling with the collar of your shirt as your body feels hot. Vox rolls his eyes playfully, pointing a clawed finger to the floor as he shifts his chair back to the screen. "Just change here my dear, no one will see you," He says, looking at you with a side glance. It's almost condescending, in a way.
"right here? But-"
"Here is fine, dear. Hell, here is more safe to change than anywhere else in this building," He laughs. You get this off feeling like you should trust him. I mean, he's one of the people owning this building anyway, right? He would be the one knowing a lot about it rather than anyone else. you should trust him.
"Okay Mister Vox."
You can't see his grin.
Every piece of clothing you peek off feels like this weird symbolism for losing yourself. Off comes your shirt: a piece is lost. Off comes your shorts: a piece of you is lost. And then more clothes come onto you, building something new. On comes a skirt: a piece of you is molded. On comes a blouse: a piece of you is molded.
And then there's this watch, a mobile one with 'Vox Tech' plastered across the side. With a shrug you put it on, struggling with getting it to tightness but ultimately managing to win the battle with the finicky strap.
"Good, good, how great you look!" He says, outstretching his hands with a grin.
You feel yourself blush, one half of you from his compliment and the other half from the fact he's looking completely in your direction. Does that mean he was watching you the whole time?
"Actually my dear, do you think you can grab me a coffee?" He asks, clicking his hands as a streak of blue energy shoots inside of the watch; this causes a mao to appear on the screen, showing where you are currently. "That map should tell you where to go, the assistant there should give you the coffee the way I like it,"
You shouldn't ask it, but you feel your bones ache too.
"How do you like it?"
He grins, tilting his head.
"Sweet with a strong flavour," He states, waving you off.
--- 666 ---
The first week as Vox's Assistant goes by smoothly, or as smoothly as it could working with an Overlord of hell. A rather odd seeming one at that.
Everything feels on edge with Vox, you feel like at any moment he could do something drastic. You've no idea what said drastic thing could be either, which makes it a whole lot more anxiety inducing. Hell, Vox is attractive. That's probably why you're on edge. That's what you keep telling yourself anyway. You're probably in love with him or something.
Vox had even given you housing as close to the building as possible, insisting he pay the rent. Not that you complain, no; less walking for you it seems. The Vox Tech watch he gave you tells you pretty much everything that you need to do. When you wake up in the morning it goes off, alerting you like an alarm, it has a to do list that blares when you're in the office, it maps out the whole space, it even acts as Vox's messaging system towards you.
You do wonder how he controls it, even in the comfort of your own home. Well, he is an overlord, right? He's capable of things even outside of your grasp. You cannot even fathom what he could do with that power.
And that's just the way Vox likes it.
Actually, you haven't seen Valentino around the building the whole week either. Even in a meeting you accompanied Vox to. You'd expect to see him more often with all the prowling in and out of the building you do.
It's as if he's vanished.
"Princess, grab me a coffee will you? Maybe even grab one for yourself while you're at it, on the house," Vox asks, swiveling on his chair to face your own, which sits just off to the side of his own with a small desk in front of it. You'd been doing some paperwork for him for the past hour, mostly reading through stuff, asking him questions, and singing them for him.
"Yeah, sure.. um, I was just wondering.." You utter softly, causing Vox to raise a brow as he leans back on his chair with a confident grin. He tilts his head in question, saying: "What's on your mind, (N/N)?"
"I haven't seen Valentino around the building, I was just wondering if something's up with him?" You ask, looking down at the ground as you begin to regret yourself even questioning. Vox laughs, flapping his hand in dismissal.
"Oh, just that? Don't worry about it! He's just.." Vox pauses for a moment, shrugging his shoulders. "Doing his own thing," He finishes, smiling rather oddly as he begins moving his chair back to face his computers. You intercept.
"His own thing..?"
Vox turns back to you, grinning widely with a manic look in his 2-D eyes. Once again, the buzzing fills your brain. And you fall to your knees against the ground with a painful 'thump'. Vox harshly grips your chin, pulling you closer to him until all you can see is that blaring red eye of his as he speaks.
"As i said,"
You feel yourself wanting to let go.
"Don't worry about it."
He lets you go of your trance, leaving you teary eyed as he smiles softly, brows furrowing in a sort of mocking empathetic way. His eyes drip with affection you find.
"Now, grab that coffee, okay?" He finishes, placing a cold kiss against your forehead before letting go of your chin, leaving yourself to gather your bearings.
It's not often you feel the want to defy someone. But as you stand from the floor, dusting off your skirt and walking to the elevator; you feel that need to be defiant. You'd figure out where Valentino is. He has to be somewhere in the building, right? You just have to find.. him..
In these hundreds and hundreds of doors. You would have to find him. And you can't take so long, otherwise Vox may suspect something.
You'd find someone to tell you where he is, you'd find him, and you'd stop worrying if Vox is going to do something drastic because he hasn't lied to you. Simple as that, simple as that. Right?
As it just so happens, as you begin walking through the studio halls you find yourself bumping into a spider individual, of whom you remember being a popular porn star.
So with an anxious breath you asked him. He explained that Valentino was in studio B-40, but he doesn't recommend finding him. And once again you go against someone's wishes. Plus, you were just going to stick your head in the door. It's nothing to worry about.
So what are you so anxious when you find yourself getting closer to the door? Why does your throat feel so tight? Why do you want to run in the other direction? Why does every step feel so heavy?
Taking another small step to the door, you wonder if you should listen to your conscious. It's supposed to do you good , right?
No, that's baby talk.
You aren't weak. You aren't letting the people in hell get you down! You are going to open the door!
You push yourhand towards the door handle and-
"Ouch! Fuck-" You yelp, an electric shock going through your body, causing you to fall backwards onto the hard floor below. Your whole body is on fire, you can't feel your tongue. You can't feel your brain.
A hum accompanies Vox's words.
"You're not going in there." He says, leaning over you as you push yourself to your knees, pressing yourself to the wall. Your head is throbbing.
"I'll beat him to a pulp if he sees you, you know?" Vox laughs, that sickening pseudo-empathetic look covering his flat features. You feel your stomach twist, this time in an awful way, it's like he's draining you of your soul. You want to disappear.
"I don't want to be aggressive," Vox begins as he grips your face harshly, causing tears to well into your eyes. "But your fucking mine, you got that?"
"And I won't let that sleazy prick get his greedy eyes anywhere near you!"
"W-what?" You whimper, pushing his hands from his face and backing away meekly. Vox laughs to himself, red dripping from his two dimensional mouth. He humors you with that gaze of his, eating alive any part of your confidence that may still linger.
"Oh, don't you get it, my dear? You sighed the paperwork," Vox leans down so his eyes can bore into your own, his gums showing in that prideful smile of his. "You belong to me now."
You choke on air, standing to your wobbly feet.
"W-what? I don't un-"
The paperwork. The paperwork you signed to get the job. You didn't read it! You idiot. You fucking idiot! You've ruined your own life. You belong to him..
To Vox.
"You- Shit-!" You turn around on your heels, almost slipping as you speed off into the hallway. You hear his voice echo in your ears.
"You can't run. Hell, you can't hide either!"
This was a mistake, this whole thing was a mistake. You want to die. You want to disappear. You want to get as far away from him as possible. You don't even take the elevator down, you run down every single flight of stairs jumping down a couple to save time.
The slip beneath your feet almost makes you topple over as you clutch onto the railing, swinging yourself onto the next flight of stairs. You have to be close to the bottom, right. Right? Yeah. This is fine.
And you were, right, surprisingly. You can almost see the entrance outside. You just have to make it out of this lobby. You just have to make it out of this huge fucking stupid ass lobby! You have to.
All of the sinner's eyes bore at you as you run at top speed to the door. You can't be here. You need to leave immediately. He can't find you If you're far away, right? Just go somewhere without a camera.. it'll be fine.. everything will be fine.
You're so close! Just a few more steps, a few more heavy, headache inducing steps.
You can make it. You just have to believe in yourself, and it'll all work out. Everything will be fine. It just has to be. Hell can't be this cruel, can it?
You're so close to the door you can smell the outside world, hear the cars as they pass, hear the charter hear the-
You choke and fall.onto the ground, a heaviness around your neck and wrists. It buzzes against your skin, making you go light headed. You can barely see it, but it's there. There are handcuffs around your wrists. And a collar around your neck. All of which glowing and buzzing with that electric blue of Vox.
He is right.
You can't run, you can't hide, you can't do anything.
He owns you, he has you. You can't do anything.
You made a mistake.
Maybe hell really is this cruel.
Keeping you forever tethered to this man.
Who knew one mistake would ruin the rest of your eternity.
Serves you right for being so naive.
"Alright now, are we done with our tantrum?" Vox asks.
"Yes mister Vox." You say.
#proship#senseichaos#antishippers dni#senseichaosdrabbles#proship fanfiction#Vox x reader#vox x reader#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin vox#vox yandere#yandere vox#yandere hazbin hotel#ask#sensei chaos requests#senseichaosanons#lovely anon
661 notes
·
View notes
Text
When You Escape Him; Ignihyde
Summary: Yandere Idia x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you.
A/N: okay, here's the thing. I know technically Ortho is one of the first year crew now, and thus, he is technically as old as we are. However, in my head he has been ten years old for so long that it's hard for me to see him that way. I tried to think of a way this could work platonically, and I came up with nothing for this prompt. So no Ortho for this one. Sorry friends 🤷🏼♀️ also, I know this is not an 18+ blog, so some of you are minors, in which case, I am not judging you for liking Ortho, if that is the case. I'm just saying it's a no for me.
CW: tranquilizer darts, minor character death, yandere stuff
Other Parts: Heartslaybul Savannaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Diasomnia Non NRC Staff
Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.
"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."
You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.
Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.
And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.
In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.
You couldn't help but be…. suspicious. Idia had only grown smarter, and more creative over the years, which made you wonder…did Idia build your son? Flaming blue hair wasn't common.
But he aged normally. So he couldn't be an Idia creation. So maybe it really was a coincidence?
Not something you could worry about right now as the two of you hid from S.T.Y.X robots.
The fact that you'd made it a year was pretty good, if you were being honest. You didn't have clearance to leave the Isle of Woe, but a scorned ex employee of Idia’s had let you stay hidden in his home. He didn't even make you pay rent because, in his words, keeping that pretentious bastard's favorite things away from him was payment enough. Aside from that little spiel, he was a sweet guy. Which is probably why he was fired.
But someone must have ratted you both out. You'd heard a shot downstairs, followed by his pained groan. A groan that was only as loud as it was for the sole purpose of alerting someone hiding upstairs.
You were hiding under the bed, with your son. The man had lined the beds with materials the S.T.Y.X bots couldn't scan through. You didn't have much faith though. Not that you had a plan if you did manage to hide from the bots. Either way, this was probably game over for you.
But you'd rather game over didn't come from Idia.
You stayed quiet under the bed, as you heard the bots start wrecking rooms. One particularly loud crash woke the baby. You hurriedly rushed to calm him, but he started crying. You couldn't blame a kid for being a kid.
Bots rushed to your room, and threw the bed you were hiding under across the room. They all pointed their tranquilizers at you, as one of the bots stomachs displayed Idia’s visage.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, please come home,” he cried. You didn't even know how to respond to that. You would have thought he'd be angry, but that would have been out of character for him.
“I know, I'm the absolute worst, but I'll be better for you! Please don't keep my son from me!”
Bargaining. Nice.
“I'll let you go outside for an hour a day. I'll buy you whatever you want. Please, please,please, please, please.”
“Oh my God! Idia! What I want is fucking freedom!” You snapped as you continued to try and calm the boy.
“I…I can't…”
“Yes you can!”
“I need you!”
“Well I don't want you!”
His eyes widened for a moment, completely taken aback. Then they narrowed, as he bit his lip in disdain.
“Fine.”
One of the bots hit you with a tranquilizer dart. You cried out, but were quickly distracted from the pain as a bot took your son from your quickly numbing arms.
“No,” you groaned, reaching out as quickly as your body would let you, which was not very fast.
Your eyesight was darkening as the bots began to leave the room, leaving you alone with the bot projecting Idia.
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Your vision faded as you were left alone in the room, a single tear rolling down your cheek.
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#idia shroud x reader#idia shroud#yandere idia shroud#yandere idia shroud x reader
502 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dm Tip: Playing the Villain/ Guidelines for "Evil" Campaigns
I've never liked the idea of running an evil game, despite how often I've had people in my inbox asking how I'd go about it. I'm all about that zero-to-hero heroic fantasy not only because I'm a goodie twoshoes IRL but because the narrative-gameplay premise that d&d is built around falls apart if the party is a bunch of killhappy murder hobos. Not only would I get bored narrating such a game and indulging the sort of players who demands the freedom to kill and torture at will (I've had those before and they don't get invited back to my table), but the whole conceit of a party falls through when the obviously villainous player characters face their first real decision point and attempt to kill eachother because cooperation is a thing that goodguys do.
Then I realized I was going about it all wrong.
The problem was I had started out playing d&d with assholes, those "murder and torture" clowns who wanted to play grand-theft-auto in the worlds I'd created and ignore the story in favour of seeing how much unchallenged chaos they could create. They set my expectations for what an evil campaign was, and I spent the rest of my time developing as a dungeonmaster thinking " I Don't want any part of that"
But what would an evil campaign look like for my playgroup of emotionally healthy friends who understand character nuance? What would I need to change about the fundamental conceit of d&d adventures to refocus the game on the badguys while still following a similar enough narrative-gameplay premise to a hero game? How do we make that sort of game relatable? What sort of power/play fantasy can we indulge in without going off the deepend?
TLDR: In an evil campaign your players aren't playing the villains, they're the MINIONS, they're mooks, henchmen, goons, lackeys. They're the disposable underlings of uncaring overseers who have nothing but ill intent towards them and the world at large.
Where as in a hero game the party is given the freedom to challenge and overthrow corrupt systems, in an evil game the party is suck as part of that corrupt system, forced to bend and compromise and sacrifice in order to survive. The fantasy is one of escaping that corrupt system, of biding your time just long enough to find an opening, find the right leverage, then tossing a molitov behind you on the way out.
Fundamentally it's the fantasy of escaping a shitty job by bringing the whole company down and punching your asshole boss in the face for good measure.
Below the cut I'm going to get into more nuance about how to build these kinds of narratives, also feel free to check out my evil party tag for campaigns and adventures that fit with the theme.
Designing a campaign made to be played from the perspective of the badguys requires you to take a different angle on quest and narrative design. It’s not so simple as swapping out the traditionally good team for the traditionally bad team and vis versa, having your party cut through a dungeon filled with against angel worshiping holyfolk in place of demon worshipping cultists etc.
Instead, the primary villain of the first arc of the campaign should be your party’s boss. Not their direct overseer mind you, more CEO compared to the middle managers your party will be dealing with for the first leg of their journey. We should know a bit about that boss villain’s goals and a few hints at their motivation, enough for the party to understand that their actions are directly contributing to that inevitable doom.
“Gee, everyone knows lord Heldred swore revenge after being banished from the king’s council for dabbling in dark magic. I don’t know WHY he has us searching for these buried ancient tablets, but I bet it’s not good”
Next, you need a manager, someone who’s a part of the evil organization that the party directly interfaces with. The manager should have something over the party, whether it be threats of force, blackmail, economic dependency… anything that keeps the antiheroes on the manager’s leash. Whether you make your manager an obvious asshole or manipulative charmer, its important to maintain this power imbalance: The party arn’t going to be rewarded when the boss-villain’s plan goes off, the manager is, but the manager’s usefulness to the boss-villain is contingent on the work they’re getting the party to do. This tension puts us on a collison course to our first big narrative beat: do the party get tired of the manager’s abuse and run away? Do they kill the manager and get the attention of the upper ranks of the villainous organization? Do they work really hard at their jobs despite the obvious warning signs and outlive their usefulness? Do they upstage their manager and end up getting promoted, becoming rivals for the boss-villain’s favor?
Building this tension up and then seeing how it breaks makes for a great first arc, as it lets your party determine among themselves when enough is enough, and set their goals for what bettering the situation looks like.
As for designing those adventures, you’ll doubtlessly realize that since the party arn’t playing heroes you’ll need to change how the setup, conflict, and payoff work. They’re still protagonists, we want them to succeed after all, but we want to hammer home that they’re doing bad things without expecting them to jump directly to warcrimes.
Up to no good: The basic building block of any evil campaign, our party need to do something skullduggerous without alerting the authorities. This of course is going to be easier said than done, especially when the task spins out of control or proves far more daunting than first expected. The best the party can hope for is to make a distraction and then escape in the chaos, but it will very likely end with them being pursued in some manner (bounties, hunters, vengeful npcs and the like). Use this setup early in a campaign so you have an external force gunning for your party during the remainder of their adventures.
Dog eat dog: It’s sort of cheating to excuse your party’s villainous actions by having them go up against another villain who happens to be worse than they are. The trick is that we’re not going after this secondary group of outlaws because they’re bad, we’re doing it because they’ve either got something the boss wants, or they’re edging in on the boss’s turf. This sort of plotline sees the party disrupting or taking advantage of a rival’s operation, then taking over that operation and risking becoming just as villainous as that rival happened to be. This can also be combined with an “Up to no good” plot where both groups of miscreants need to step carefully without alerting an outside threat.
The lesser evil: This kind of plot sees your party sent out to deal with an antagonistic force that’s a threat not only to the boss’s plans but to everyone in general. In doing so they might end up fighting alongside some heroes, or accidentally doing good in the long run. This not only gives your party a taste of heroism, but gives them something in their back pocket that could be used to challenge the boss-villain in the future.
The double cross: In order to get what they want, the party need to “play along” with a traditional heroic narrative long enough to get their goal and then ditch. You have them play along specifically so they can get a taste of what life would be like if they weren't bastards, as well as to make friends with the NPCs inevitably going to betray. This is to make it hurt when you have the manager yank the leash and force the party to decide between finishing the job , or risk striking out on their own and playing hero in the short term while having just made a long term enemy. This is sort of plot is best used an adventure or two into the campaign, as the party will have already committed some villainous deeds that one good act can’t blot out.
Next, lets talk about the sort of scenarios you should be looking to avoid when writing an evil campaign:
Around the time I started playing d&d there was this trend of obtusely binary morality systems in videogames which claimed to offer choice but really only existed to let the player chose between the power fantasy of being traditionally virtuous or the power fantasy of being an edgy rebel. Early examples included:
Do you want to steal food from disaster victims? in Infamous
Do you as a space cop assault a reporter who’s being kind of annoying to you? in Mass Effect
Do you blow up an entire town of innocent people for the lols? in Fallout (no seriously check out hbomberguy’s teardowm on fallout 3’s morality system and how critics at the time ate it up)
I think these games, along with the generational backwash of 90s “edge” and 00s “grit” coloured a lot of people's expectations ( including mine) about what a "villain as protagonist" sort of narrative might look like. They're childish exaggerations, devoid of substance, made even worse by how blithely their narratives treat them.
Burn down an inn full of people is not a good quest objective for an evil party, because it forces the characters to reach cartoonish levels of villainy which dissociates them from their players. Force all the villagers into the inn so we can lock them inside and do our job uninterrupted lets the party be bad, but in a way that the players can see the reason behind it and stay synced up with their characters. The latter option also provides a great setup for when the party's actually monstrous overseer sets the inn on fire to get rid of any witnesses after the job is done. Now the party (and their players) are faced with a moral quandary, will they let themselves be accessories to a massacre or risk incurring their manager's wrath? Rather than jumping face first into cackling cruelty, these sorts of quandaries have them dance along the knife's edge between grim practicality and dangerous uncertainly; It brings the player and character closer together.
Finally, lets talk about ending the villain arc:
I don't think you can play a whole evil campaign. Both because the escalation required is narratively unsustainable, but also because the most interesting aspect of playing badguys is the breaking point. Just like heroes inevitably having doubts about whether or not they're doing the right thing, there's only so long that a group of antiheroes can go along KNOWING they're doing the wrong thing before they put their feet down and say "I'm out". I think you plan a evil campaign up until a specific "there's no coming back from this" storybeat, IE letting the Inn burn... whether or not the party allows it to happen, it's the lowest point the narrative will allow them to reach before they either fight back or allow themselves to be subsumed. If they rebel, you play out the rest of the arc dismantling the machine they helped to build, taking joy in its righteous destruction. If they keep going along, show them what they get for being cogs: inevitably betrayed, sacrificed, or used as canon fodder when the real heroes step in to do their jobs for them.
Art
#dm tip#dm tips#writing advice#evil party#drafting the adventure#dnd#d&d#dungeons and dragons#blades in the dark#ttprg#pathfinder
417 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello ,
I would like to request dazai Osamu with a reader who is a virgin a d having sex for the very first time and he goes into corruption mode and is soo feral with her teasing and all but still takes good care of her after it .
you can ignore this if you want
thank you
𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 | 𝚍𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒 𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚞
synopsis: You wanted him in his entirety and you made sure you were well prepared for your first time with Dazai, but what you weren’t prepared for was how much he wanted you in your entirety. Once he sunk in, his mind went blank and it was over. All you could do was take it, every inch, every thrust, every dirty mantra, everything. And you loved every second of it.
warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, smut, virgin!reader, dick drunk!reader, pussy whipped!dazai, corruption kink, first time, consent, cursing, fingering, grinding, p in v intercourse, breast play, teasing, praising, dirty talk (lots of it), aftercare (he runs a lil bath for her), a smidge of pain, slight overstimulation, feral dazai fucking reader mercilessly into the mattress, reader does wear a skirt and works at the ada, bit of a bandage obsession (he’s so goddamn pretty with them), pet names (darling, princess, sweetheart, baby), possibly my best work? idk i fucks with it.
a/n: ty to my wonderful anon for requesting this, it was so entertaining to write cuz not me having to take several breaks to recollect my thoughts every time i wrote a piece of dazai's dialogue (he turns me into putty, i swear🧡), also, if anyone understands the manga reference in the very beginning, ily lots. wc: 2.9k. m.list
now playing: oxytocin by billie eilish
divider credit: @benkeibear
It was the day, you thought meekly as you mentioned something about leaving early to the bandaged boy that sat at Kunikida’s desk reading a new manga issue.
“Huh? You want to go home now?” He asked, pulling one of his earbuds out and looking at you with a confused face. Dazai’s fingers played with a page hosting the demise of a beloved character and you instantly thought, maybe it wasn’t the time to bother him about cutting his day short. Not when his manga issue had been so grim, the remainder looking quite halved.
“Dazai…” You locked eyes with him and he slid the book into his bag wearily, reaching for his coat that he hung on the back of the chair. He pulled it on quickly, the edges flowing against him like waves and you admired how it fit him, the natural curves of his body did wonders within your mind.
“Fiiine, but I want to finish this issue by tonight.” He complained, taking your hand as you two walked out of the office.
Dazai and you had been dating for a few months, coming up close to a year and you made sure you had enough time to prepare. Prepare for your first time with Dazai, of course. You weren’t stupid, you’ve been thinking about it for months now– about the way his fingers lightly ghosted over your thigh as you two made out, the way a tiny groan would slip from his mouth when you gently bit his lip, the way that his cock would perk up when you managed to run your palm down his chest.
But that’s as far as you went.
It’s not that you didn’t want to, you just weren’t ready for that type of intimacy. Dazai never rushed you, the comfort of his cuddles were very pleasing when he noticed your lack of forwardness after you felt you went too far. But the aching between your thighs lately had been getting to you as your eyes washed over Dazai’s lean build, taking in how his black vest hugged his waist with little effort and the tactical bandages adorning his body– you wanted them off. Off and hanging from his flushed body, fucking you mercilessly into the pillows that surrounded you.
Dazai twirled the key around his finger, opening the door to his apartment and ushering you inside with his hand against the small of your back. You entered before him, taking in the warmth of the tiny apartment that seeped into your bones. You wanted to jump straight to the evening, but you honestly didn’t know if you could even wait that long as you glanced at Dazai. He was taking his coat off and he had his manga in hand already, ready to finish it at the drop of a hat.
“Dazai, I had something to ask you.” You started as he made himself comfy on the edge of the sofa, his legs crossing promptly and you second guessed yourself again when he propped the book open to resume the gory mess of the chapter.
“Yes, darling?” He glanced up at you, trying to read your expression and he made another confused face when you didn’t answer. “Y/N?”
You didn’t know how to tell him, the question on the tip of your tongue but not quite leaving. All you wanted was him on top of you but how were you to initiate it when you’ve never done this before? All of the other times, Dazai had kissed you first with a gentle hum and guided you into the confidence of taking the lead if you ever wanted to. It was genuinely sweet that he’s so willing, so patient with you, and your head spun a bit as you looked at him with a blank face.
Dazai put the book down on the armrest of the sofa and you knew you took too long to respond. He reached over, his legs uncrossing in their position and pulled you into his lap with a gentle tone evading his lips. “Are you okay? You’ve been off all day.”
As you straddled him on the sofa, your impatience got worse when you felt the swell of your cunt press directly against his cock. You just wanted to sink onto him right then and there, the size of him basically teasing you and your entire face flushed red. You avoided his gaze as he tried to gauge what was wrong, his hands coming up to hold you around the waist steadily.
He pressed a tiny kiss against your cheek, muttering into it. “Seriously, what made you wanna leave work early? I mean, not that I minded. We basically had nothing to do with Kunikida and Yosano out on a mission.”
As Dazai continued talking, he shuffled his leg mindlessly and you dropped down further into his lap with a squeak. You slick rubbed up against the seam of your panties, nearly flooding through the thin material that sat so perfectly flush against his clothed dick and you were sure he noticed it by now. You were sure he noticed the heat of your cunt, warmer than usual, wetting the front of his trousers as he soothed kisses down your neck. The unmistakable bulge that pressed up into you made you dizzy, he knew why you were acting so off now.
“Is this why?” Dazai tutted, his eyes coming up to stare into yours as his fingers trailed down towards your inner thigh underneath your skirt. “You’ve been hot and bothered all day, huh princess?”
“Yeah, been thinking about us…” You trailed off as you met his eyes finally, the muddled brown looking darker than usual.
“About us? Did you want– Are you ready?” He stammered a bit, his face going red along with yours at the thought then a playful smirk played on his lips “Oh wow, can’t wait to tell Fukuzawa why we left early.”
“Dazai, don’t you dar–” You were cut off by a moan as his fingers pressed into the soaked material of your panties. You clutched at his bandaged wrist, grinding down onto them as he looked back at you with wide eyes dumbfounded that you didn’t shy away from the action. Sure, he’s grinded against you before with his dick but this was different, you were practically begging for his fingers in you.
“Y/N…” Dazai suddenly breathed out, his fingers slipping into the lace deftly and you felt him brush up against your clit. He studied your face, readying for any drawbacks as he went further with you. This was new to him after all, normally you’d tell him if he went too far. He wasn’t thinking straight when he pressed them against your cunt the first time moments ago and definitely not now as he slid them into you with ease.
You jolted, the foreignness of it startling you slightly and he stopped moving them in. “Are you okay with this?”
You nodded as you gasped breaths into his hovering lips, pulling him into a chaste kiss. His fingers curled in you slightly as he slid his tongue into your mouth, lapping at you breathlessly. You whined into the kiss, his fingers dipping in and out of you shallowly and the discomfort dissipated after a few seconds. You glanced down at where he had pinned with pleasure and you vaguely registered how he so painfully strained against his trousers, his wrist resting lightly against it as he thrusted into you.
“D-Dazai…”
“What is it, princess?” He cooed, kissing the side of your lips as you tilted your head away from him. One of his fingers started to rub circles into your clit and you couldn’t remember what you had to say, the words disintegrating for your tongue. “You okay? Fuck, you’re so tight around my fingers… Can’t wait to get you around my cock.”
That’s what it was, his cock. That’s what you wanted.
But before you could yearn for it, his fingers slipped out quickly and you were being picked up by slender arms. The manga book dropped the armrest of the sofa and Dazai sighed as he noticed he had lost his page, but he didn’t move to pick it up as he brought you down the hall towards his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed carefully, tugging at your shirt with questioning eyes which you answered a quiet ‘yes’ to.
Dazai raked it up, marveling at the way your breasts bounced in the lace bra that matched your panties and he kissed them tenderly while he unclasped the back, letting them spill out. “So pretty for me, Y/N.”
He wanted to take this slow, he didn’t want your first time to be rushed after all. After all, Dazai had been waiting for you to express you were ready and if you trusted him this much, he was going to make sure everything went right. He sucked a light hickey into the top of your breast while pulling off your skirt, his tongue basically melting the bruise into your skin as you huffed out a tiny whine.
His dick felt so heavy against the seam of his trousers as he slipped your panties off, gazing in awe at how beautiful you looked exposed underneath him. Dazai slipped his vest off and his shirt all in one go and you crossed your legs together self consciously as he undressed. But before you could fully close them, a steady hand came to rest around your knee as he slipped out of his trousers clumsily. It was endearing to watch him almost trip against you as he shakily took them off. “Don’t be shy, darling, you’re perfect. Everything I imagined, okay?”
‘Okay…” You breathed out, letting him slot himself between your legs and he immediately captured you in a kiss, his fingers lingering everywhere they could reach. You keened into his touch as he gripped your thighs, pulling you right against his confined dick and you wanted them off already. “D-Dazai?”
“Yes?” He murmured, rubbing his length against you and watching your arousal slick a dark patch in his light blue boxers. A quiet groan slipped out of him, his mouth slightly open and his eyes half lidded and honestly, you’ve never seen such a fucking sight in your life. His bandages wrapped around his forearms but his upper arms were exposed, his neck bandage connecting down some of his chest but not all. It was taut against his skin and you just wanted to pull at it til it broke, til it ripped and laid tangled against you too.
“Be gentle?” You pouted, shrugging your shoulders up with a nervous expression. He gave you a quiet scoff, his hands coming to rest on both sides of your body and you felt him shuffle out of his boxers.
“Who do you think I am?” Dazai chuckled, prodding the tip against your clit and rubbing it slowly. You gasped out at the sensation, squeezing your eyes shut. “Of course, sweetheart.”
He moved it down towards your entrance and everything suddenly felt so real. Dazai sank in slightly and he cooed at you when you let out a quiet noise of discomfort, kissing you promptly as he pushed the rest of the way in. You felt the wave of pain thicken as he bottomed out, but you breathed through your nose, your mind guiding you to remember that you two were finally connected. He had buried his face into your neck, nipping at the flesh lightly as a drawn out moan came from him.
Dazai honestly felt like he short circuited, you wrapped around him so well, so fucking tight. Yeah, be gentle? That was the last thing on his mind now as he felt your walls clench around him tightly, waiting for him to move. He didn’t know where these thoughts had come from, but all his brain was mustering up was ‘fuck you stupid into the mattress,’ or ‘make you cry his name between sobs,’ the absolute filthest things. He wanted to corrupt you, your virginity flowing like invisible threads between his fingertips as you whimpered out his name, urging him to move.
“Fuck, Y/N…” Dazai groaned, his hips snapping into you harshly and you let out a shocked cry as he barely gave you time to adjust. “Fuck, fuck, ‘M sorry, needed to have you right now.”
He gripped your thighs, leaving crescent shaped imprints as he pulled you onto his dick more. He thrusted into you with a sharp pace, quickly leaning up to gain more control over your body as he set a rhythm. His eyes nearly rolled back as he watched you struggle to hold onto his biceps, tiny whimpers coming from your lips and there were tears collecting in the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill. He watched, his pace never slowing, as your breasts bounced with every vigorous draw of his cock and your hands flew towards the sheets instead as he plowed into you with harsh breaths.
‘God, so tight, so good for me. Seems like your pussy was made to fit around me perfectly, was made specifically for my fucking cock, princess.” Dazai teased, gaping at the way his cock slid so wonderfully into you, the base of it wet with a creamy ring already and you felt him twitch with ecstasy inside you.
You had no idea what had gotten into him, those words you whispered to him before abandoned and was this really your partner? Had you been holding back from him for too long? Maybe you should’ve given yourself to him sooner.
It didn’t matter anymore, your brain had been frazzled beyond belief as pleasure sparked up your spine viciously, shocks and tingles overtaking every part of your body. You had your back arched upwards, bracing yourself with every ruthless thrust into your cunt and you had to make sure you didn’t knock your head into the bedframe.
“Arch some more for me, beautiful.” A gentle palm came to rest underneath you, lifting you up some more and you shuddered at the feeling of his dainty fingers spreading against your back.
“Look like such an angel for me. Guess I’m the devil huh?” Dazai taunted with a wry smile, whining each word out with eyes squeezing shut for a moment as pleasure coursed through his cock as you clenched around him again purposefully. “Wrecking you like this, I really shouldn’t have but, God, you looked so innocent underneath me…”
Fuck, you should’ve done this a long time ago. He hit your sweet spot with relentless aim, ramming into it and you let out another loud cry, your mouth dropped open and you felt you were on fire as he laughed dryly at your jolt from his movements.
“Gonna cum on my cock, baby? Look at me, princess.” You opened your eyes lazily, his experience making you numb to the touch and his hips became sloppy with each thrust now. He rolled them into you, his other hand gripping at your waist as he tilted his head back slightly. He whimpered out with a quiet slur, “So close...thank you, thank you…”
His name became familiar in your mouth, nothing but it escaped in a frenzy of moans and you felt your orgasm surging, the feeling reaching higher and higher and-
You came undone underneath him the same time as he did, cumming all over his cock who painted your insides white with his. He pumped himself through it, collapsing against you afterwards. You whined out at the aftershocks, shaking slightly as Dazai pulled out of you. Immediately, you felt his hands against your thighs, caressing them after every jerk and twitch of your abused cunt.
“God, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He apologized all in one breath, his voice wavering slightly and you placed one hand on his back, smoothing it over once.
“It’s okay.” You said once you caught your breath and by then, he had kissed you silly and massaged every single ache in your body away. The feeling of his touch calmed you into a state of exhaustion and with every gentle kiss, he whispered sweet nothings to bring you back to reality.
“Want me to run a bath for you, sweetheart?” He asked once you could answer his questions, rubbing circles into your hips and lapping at the bruises on your breasts lovingly. “I’m going to carry you, so don’t worry about walking. I was so rough, wasn’t I?”
“Dazai, honey.” You whined, the pet name falling from your lips and he looked at you with his eyebrows raised. You smiled warmly at him. “You’ll fuck me like that everytime?”
“If you want me to.” He grinned into the side of your thigh as he moved downwards to get off the bed, wiggling into his boxers during the process. “I’m running the bath.”
Dazai bounced away and you stared up at the ceiling contentedly, a deep sigh parting from your lips. You never had expected your first time to be that intense, but you were so glad that it was, the feeling of him ghosted through your body and you hummed to yourself happily. You didn’t know why you waited so long, especially if that was how he was going to react. It sent arousal flooding through you again and you knew there’d be more than one round tonight by the looks of it.
You heard Dazai’s voice sing his way through his apartment, like honey dripping by the spoonful. “Darling, would you like a bubble bath instead?”
a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!
#𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 •┈••✦#𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 ✧#bsd x you#bsd x y/n#bsd smut#bsd x reader#bsd dazai#bsd x female reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs dazai#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader#dazai x fem reader#dazaibsd#dazai x y/n#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai smut#dazai x reader#dazai osamu#fem reader#𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 ✰
805 notes
·
View notes
Text
"All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire." - Edgar Allan Poe
Exculpate: The Fall from Grace is an upcoming 18+ action packed and fantastical interactive fiction novel. Loosely inspired by media like “My Hero Academia”, “Bungou Stray Dogs”, “Jujutsu Kaisen”, “The X-Men” and “Titans”.
Tags: [Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi, Romance, Drama, LGBTQIA+, Textbased]
The Astra. In the years after the war it was a name that had grown familiar. A select group of individuals who had gained special abilities after the…incident. They are powerful. They are talented. They are gifted.
And you’re one of them.
Or at least you were around a decade ago. Before you made the mistake. The type of colossal fuck up that blows up your apparently flimsy life in a matter of minutes. The kind that has you running away and starting completely over. That kind.
Now instead of using your worthless ability to save people, you are stuck using it for much more…aggressive work. More effective work. Or at the very least work that pays better. The only cost seems to be your sorry excuse for morals. Trading your soul and sense of justice for a paycheck. What could go wrong?
It was manageable. Meaningful even. Something that gave purpose to the now shattered pieces of your life.
Everything was great.
...until you got a hit for the strongest hero in existence. Wonderful.
Play a former hero turned assassin turned…“hero” but not really .
Customize your character’s name, appearance, personality, and gender identity.
Develop a better understanding of your dreadful ability.
Explore and navigate complex relationships with six unique romantic options.
Kill your former best friend and betray old allies and new ones alike!
Come face to face with your past (both the choices you’ve made and the people in it).
Repent for your mistakes…or continue making them.
The Hero (Your Target): Maverick “Mav” Kingston (He/Him)
Maverick Kingston, your current target and the strongest member of Astra. The strongest, period. He is unstoppable - unreachable - unattainable. You would know as his (former) best friend.
Appearance: Maverick is the embodiment of “perfection” and that crosses over into his looks. He is roughly 6’1” and is quite lean. He has vibrant light blue eyes and a head of messy blonde hair that seems to always fall perfectly into place.
Personality: Maverick’s greatest flaw is undeniably his personality. To put it bluntly, he’s the best and he knows it. He manages to come across as nonchalant and egotistical on a good day - often just messing around or teasing both his enemies and coworkers alike, and while he can be quite charismatic, his laidback and annoying disposition tends to steer most people away. Although, you get the feeling that there seems to be something deeper lying beneath the surface even after all these years…
The Strategist: Carmen Reyes (She/Her)
Carmen Reyes, lead strategist of the Astra and to put it bluntly the only one with any common sense. She is an intimidating presence - although that might just be due to her title of the best hand to hand combatant of the Astra. You used to be co-workers and classmates but that was a long time ago.
Appearance: Carmen’s beauty is just another thing that adds to her imposing nature. She is roughly 5’11” and has spent years building up her muscular physique. She has curly dark brown hair that rests just below her chin and surprisingly sharp hazel eyes that seem to track your every move…
Personality: Carmen can be considered reserved and wise at best and completely distant at worst. She has a professional air to her that most officials and authority respect, but it can come across as aloof or boring especially when comparing her to the loud personalities that the rest of the Astra has. That’s not to say she is uncaring though - in fact she is arguably the most moral of the group - or at least she was back when you were a member…
The Heart: Silas Jones (He/Him)
Silas Jones, arguably the kindest member of the Astra. He’s excitable and naive - if not a bit endearing. He tends to act as the mediator between the public and the other members of the Astra when necessary. You don’t remember being particularly close with him back when you were in the Astra so it’s surprising how desperately he seems to want your attention now…
Appearance: Silas is roughly 5’8” and has dark brown skin with glowing silver marks scattered across his body. He has black locs that have been dyed red at the tips and dark brown eyes that seem to pull you in wherever you go…
Personality: Silas is easily the nicest of the group and can be quite soothing especially compared to the harsher personalities of the other members and higher ups of the Astra. He is incredibly open and energetic, if not a bit naive. He cares very deeply for the people around him and that clearly extends to you even after all these years. It does make you wonder why he is so interested though…
The Healer: Juno Aceso (She/Her)
Juno Aceso, head of the healing and medical department at Astra. She isn’t what most people expect when they hear the words “doctor” but she is a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the group. You were close with her back when you were in the Astra…or at least as close as you can be with someone like her.
Appearance: Juno is roughly 5’5”. She has deathly pale skin and dark eyebags that frame her murky green eyes. Her straight chestnut colored hair lands right at her chest, though she usually keeps it up in a bun.
Personality: If Carmen is distant and Maverick is nonchalant then Juno is on a whole other level. She is practically apathetic with her laidback nature and tends to be quite removed from everyone else. That’s not to say she has no personality though. She can be incredibly snarky and sarcastic when she wants to be. Unsurprisingly, she seems the least invested in your return. Although you get an odd feeling whenever she glances your way…
The Star: Payton Monroe (They/Them)
Payton Monroe is nothing if not a star. They embrace the celebrity status that comes with being a member of the Astra with open arms. You weren’t particularly close with them back when you were in the Astra but you heard the rumors of their exploits…
Appearance: Payton is roughly 5’7” and seems to make it their life’s goal to make themself as appealing as possible. They have ivory colored skin and dazzling lavender eyes. Their hair is shoulder length and white with streaks of pink going through it.
Personality: Payton is someone who has no issue embracing the finer things in life. They are far more interested in the public image aspect of being a member of the Astra and that comes across in nearly every interaction. While they are quite flirtatious, they seem to hold no interest in pursuing an actual relationship. Maybe you’ll be the one to change that…
The Newbie: Amari Gray (Gender Selectable)
Amari Gray, the newest member of the Astra. Not much is known about them - they joined after you left and they don’t seem exactly interested in getting to know you. They tend to be annoyed with you more often than not but you get the feeling that they are that way with most people. Although, their constant avoidance towards you specifically is quite odd…
Appearance: Amari is roughly 5’3”. They have tan skin and sharp gray eyes that seem to be set in a perpetual glare. They have thick white hair that is currently styled as a short undercut. They have a few piercings and tattoos.
Personality: You don’t know much about Amari but one thing you do know is that they don’t like you. They are either actively avoiding you or are going out of their way to pick fights with you. They seem incredibly familiar which makes their determination on making your life miserable even weirder…
DEMO TBA
#if: intro#interactive fiction#if: exculpate#interactive novel#interactive game#if wip#interactive fiction wip#choicescript#wip if#wip intro#wip#dashingdon#cog wip#cog#choice of games#hosted games#intro post
735 notes
·
View notes
Text
˚₊‧୨୧˚ SWEET ENCOUNTERS !
[૮₍ ˃ࡇ˂ ₎ა]: meet cutes with your favourite bllk boy ! but of course, in a high school setting bc i’m a sucker for high school romance >:)
tags. isagi, kunigami, nagi, kaiser, reo, rin x gn!reader (separately), 1793 wc, idk what genre but no sad stuff hehe, first interactions, uh idk why reo and rin’s ones are so long lol, reader is called ‘pretty’ in kaiser’s, ooc mb ??, somewhat proofread ig
ISAGI YOICHI — (deskmates)
it was monday when your teacher decided to switch up the seating arrangements, and she scribbled all your names on slips of paper that were thrown into a hat. one by one, your friends were getting paired together, and you were pleasantly surprised when your name was called with isagi’s name.
you’ve never really talked to him before, and the two of you didn’t have any classes in common. but, you knew that he was popular amongst your female classmates—they often giggled over his smiles and compliments.
you acknowledged that he was handsome, relatively popular, and a charismatic individual, but in all honesty, you didn’t find anything special about him.
but when you brought your belongings to your allocated desk, isagi graced you with a smile that reminded you of the violet petunias in the school garden as he motioned to the empty desk besides him.
“you can take the window seat. enjoy the sight when it’s raining—i think it’s quite pretty.”
in this particular moment, you were beginning to understand why your friends have always appreciated his character.
like a flower in spring, something about isagi made him...
“thanks, isagi. i’ll make sure to.”
...alluring.
KUNIGAMI RENSUKE — (voluntary assistance)
given that your school’s volleyball coach had recently sprained his ankle and was now on crutches, your heart couldn’t bear to see him struggle to bring the equipment into the gym. so, as manager of the school’s volleyball team, you didn’t even have to think twice before providing the coach some assistance.
but now it was your turn to struggle. to save yourself some time, you stacked two crates together and carried them to the gym at the same time. admittedly, it was a little hard—you were peering past the crates to see.
“h-hey! i’ll help you!”
confused, you looked behind you to find that kunigami was running towards you. behind him, you can see his friends following him from a distance, and he quickly removed the crates from your hold, taking them into his hands instead.
“o-oh wait! i’ll take one.”
kunigami simply let out a friendly chuckle as he shook his head. “it’s all good. they’re not heavy. heading to the gym?”
considering that no one else has helped you bring the volleyballs, and you were just a couple steps away from the building, you genuinely appreciated kunigami’s chivalry as he waited for your answer.
“yeah.” you returned his smile. “thanks.”
NAGI SEISHIRO — (project partners)
unfortunately for you, nagi was placed in your group for the upcoming group project.
“nagi? we’d appreciate it if you could also help us research.”
initially, you were rather excited to work on this new psychology project. but with nagi seishiro in your group, who’s only ever been seen sleeping in your classes, you’re not so sure anymore.
“i’ll do it later,” he mumbled, nestling his head into his arms. your friend besides you rolled her eyes, jokingly raising her fist towards him once nagi had closed his eyes.
it was infuriating that he was unwilling to cooperate with you and your friend, considering that this was a group project, and not a solo task. what put you off even more was that your teacher has decided to assess you all as a group rather than individually.
you weren’t going to let nagi seishiro’s idleness bring your grade down.
“we don’t have time to research later, nagi. we actually have to carry out the experiment next lesson,” you stated firmly. your vexation was stained in your tone, yet the boy refused to read the room.
adjusting his head to look at you, nagi yawned. “stop stressing out, [name]. this isn’t even worth that mu—”
“it’s worth forty percent of our final grade, nagi. just because you don’t care about your marks doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t care about ours,” you hissed bitterly, snapping your laptop shut.
as you slapped the briefing paper before him, nagi stared straight at you. “i hope that you’ll come to realise that a group project requires everyone’s efforts—and that includes you.”
MICHAEL KAISER — (money’s on the line)
for him to win the twenty euros that were on the line, the condition was that kaiser must flirt with the next person who walks into the classroom for a week, strictly.
and it was you who happened to have walked in after the bet was established.
“hey, [name]!” kaiser jumped off the desk he was sitting on as he approached you with a look on his face that clearly meant he was up to no good. “what class do you have next?”
you thought for a while before you returned to your seat, with kaiser tailing behind you. “history, i think.”
the boy simply nodded his head as he dragged a nearby chair besides you, comfortably inviting himself to be near you. “cool. want me to walk you there?”
considering that he offered to walk you to your next class, which is something completely out of the norm (you’ve hardly ever talked to him before), you gave him a confused look. with his tie loosely hung around his neck and the top buttons of his shirt deliberately undone to reveal a tiny portion of his physique, his appearance was enough for you to identify him as someone you shouldn’t associate with.
“...what?”
kaiser leant in closer with a smirk that was a trademark of his persona. “i’ll walk you to history. just in case you get lonely, y’know?”
“uh, no, than—”
“i’ll walk you. it’s not every day that i get to walk someone as pretty as you to class.”
MIKAGE REO — (playing messenger)
you failed to contain your sigh when your female classmate asked you for a favour—to give her confession letter that had little pink hearts littered over the envelope to mikage reo.
when you said no to her request, her only rebuttal was that you seemed to be acquainted with him (you weren’t). but you’ve watched her hesitate to give the envelope when he walked past her before, and since you still had some sort of compassion in you, you finally acceded. of course, you asked for something in return: the most expensive drink from the vending machine.
and now, with her letter in your hands, you peered from the classroom door as you located your target. the fact that he was surrounded by a relatively large number of his peers made you choke on your own saliva. and god—you were going to look like one of his dumb fangirls who usually confess with a bag of heart-shaped cookies or a love letter (you’d be in the latter category).
slipping the letter in your pocket, you approached him and grabbed his attention by patting his shoulder.
as reo turned around, waiting for you to ask your question, all his friends grew silent, gazing at you with disparaging eyes.
“could you come out for a second? i just need to give you something.”
and he nodded his head as he left his friends with you. scanning the hallway left and right, you and reo stood behind the classroom door.
“here,” you murmured, passing the envelope to him. ignoring the amused spark in his eyes, you cut him off with a raised hand before he could speak. “let me clarify—this is not from me. a classmate asked me to pass this to you.”
reo chuckled as he flipped the envelope over. “you don’t have to lie, y’know. i’ve received many confession bef—”
“since it seems like i wasn’t clear enough before, let me say it again—i’m not interested in you.”
and with that, you turned your heel to retrieve the drink your classmate owes you as reo hopes to see you around these halls again.
ITOSHI RIN — (athlete meets artist)
as a prominent member of the school’s art club, you were in charge of welcoming guests into the art room that the art teacher had meticulously decorated. even if you were slightly embarrassed to have some of your artwork pinned up on the walls, you took pride in your pieces as they were all a product of your passions and desires.
while the art room was not as popular as the plays and cafes that were set up in other classrooms, there were still a few people who visited with the intention of appreciating the intricate sculpture made by the captain of the art club.you expected your friends to visit (and they did), as did some of the second-year students you were acquainted with, but you definitely didn’t expect itoshi rin to walk in, mindlessly observing the room.
as you got up from your seat, you greeted rin with a polite smile.
“are you interested in painti—”
“no. i just have nothing to do right now,” he said curtly, passing you. as rin roamed around, browsing the drawings with one quick glance, his eyes landed on your painting. it was displayed right in the centre of all the other artworks, with a colour scheme that was much different from all the other paintings.
you struggled to hide your grin when rin paused to examine your art piece (you were happy to see another person acknowledging your art). “do you like it, itoshi?”
you pretended to brush off the awkwardness that embraces you as you’re met with silence. rin doesn’t respond for a while as he’s seemingly studying the brushstrokes on your painting. “what’s the point of doing this?”
you pondered over this question for a brief moment before you responded, tracing your fingertips over the edge of your painting. “because it’s fun, in my opinion. you can tell a story by creating an artwork using different colours and mediums, so it’s great for someone who might not be great with their words.”
“but doing all this...” he said, hovering his finger over the details on your painting. “looks like a lot of effort. i wouldn’t be bothered.”
“i suppose,” you shrugged, turning to face rin properly. “itoshi, you play soccer, right?”
rin finally looked at you, responding to your question with a terse “hmm”.
“it’s like you with soccer, i guess. every day, just like you, i’m also refining my skills so i can prove to my family that i’m an exceptional artist. then maybe they’ll let me fulfil my dream of going to art school.”
reaching for the tidy pile of art brochures you organised, you handed rin a copy as you spoke. “for you, all this may seem tedious. but for me, this is what i love. and i’m willing to spend years on this if it means that i can be one of the best artists in japan.”
© yoisami 2023. plagiarism, translation and distribution of my works outside of tumblr is not permitted.
#૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — ୨୧ by saki#if this goes well i might wanna do a sequel for some of them (specifically reo and rin’s)#blue lock#bllk#blue lock imagines#bllk imagines#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#isagi yoichi#yoichi isagi#isagi x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi imagines#kunigami rensuke#rensuke kunigami#kunigami x reader#kunigami rensuke x reader#kunigami imagines#nagi seishiro#seishiro nagi#nagi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi imagines#michael kaiser#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x reader#kaiser imagines#mikage reo#reo mikage#reo x reader
761 notes
·
View notes
Text
pairing: Toshinori Yagi x F!Reader -> Mirio Togata x F!Reader
word count: 7.8k
contents: Canon divergence for final war arc and beyond, friends to lovers with history, reader has a defined quirk (magnetism) and is a support equipment safety consultant, reader is 29 and Mirio is 30, appearances from other heroes (Deku & Bakugou and they are married, in their 20's)
cw: major character death and discussions of aspects of caretaking for someone at the end of their life, discussions of loss and grief
notes: This idea could not have come to fruition without my most beloved @izvmimi and @bakvrue so thank you to them for always being the very best. I have really been having a Mirioaissance lately and as you all know I love Mr. Might so here goes. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3
“I’m dying.”
Mirio Togata nearly chokes mid-swallow, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to prevent droplets of tea from seeping out of his lips. It’s a rare Wednesday day off for Lemillion and sunlight pours into the expansive room used as an office at. He’s a guest in the home of one of the most prolific heroes of all time, as he often is, though today he was invited by the man himself instead of showing up to pop in and say hello.
All Might, Toshinori Yagi, is dying.
Technically he has been for years though hearing it from the man’s own mouth feels different than the vague conversations about ‘terminal’ and ‘incompatible organs’.
“No,” the younger man starts but Toshinori raises a hand to stop him, shaking his head with a chuckle.
It’s no secret he has been rapidly looking more and more frail as autumn faded into winter which is now melting into the bright green of spring.
“It’s true. No matter how many times you tell me ‘you can get better’ or ‘medical technology is improving’ it will not change the fact that my time has a finite number on it.”
There has been a finite amount of his life remaining for a very long time, he’s simply managed to dodge it for as long as possible. Running away from the truth is no longer an option, the years he has been given since the War and its finish already leaving the man feeling like a perpetual cheat. He was supposed to die then, and then after that, and then again and again and again…
There are no more ducks and dodges left in him.
“Midoriya knows and has accepted it. It’s time for you to do the same.”
The words would be harsh coming from anyone other than a beloved mentor turned friend though Yagi has always had the natural ability to soften blows when necessary. Mirio nods, blue eyes trained toward the ground and refusing to meet those of the man in the comfortable chair next to him. He dares to take a peek at the man who will forever be known as All Might, the thinness of his hands and arms and wrists alone a surprising sight. Time has run out. No medical science or quirk or act of God can reverse the inevitable. A transplant cannot save him, medicine will not save him, and he’s made the decision to be as comfortable as possible over the remaining weeks to months he has left.
Togata’s mind unconsciously drifts to you in all of this. You are the young woman who has devoted the latter half of her twenties to taking care of this iconic man, tending to his illnesses and the complications from them with a smile and a joke, a reassuring hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his forehead. The younger of the pair has witnessed this kindness himself on more than one occasion and he remembers when you were simply a Support course student at UA high school a year younger than Mirio himself. You assisted with equipment in the war and it has followed you through your adulthood, your support item safety consulting business thriving and helping build a safer world.
The way you care about everyone is so admirable, it’s difficult not to view you as a hero in all of this. Mirio raises a brow and balls his hands together into a fist, letting it rest in his lap.
“How does she feel about, well, everything?”
It’s a daring question to ask given the older man is well aware of the younger man’s affection toward you no matter how discreet he thinks he is about it. It’s the perpetual elephant in the room. Toshinori sighs, shifting in his chair and positioning his hands in his lap. Mirio’s eyes dart from them and toward the older man’s sallow face, noting the hint of a smile at the mention of you.
“She was the first person to know. It’s the least I could give her for wasting her youth on a sorry old man like me.”
Togata offers a tight smile and tilts his head to the side. The self deprecation isn’t anything new, it has been like this the last several years, though it never sits well when the man he has attempted to pattern his own morals over says something so blasphemous about himself.
“That’s a pretty downer way to look at things, All Might.”
This gets a chuckle from the older man, the sound of his head shaking against the back of his chair causing the younger one to look up at him curiously.
“It’s a pretty downer thing to die but telling you it’s coming isn’t the only reason I asked you here today.”
The older man clears his throat, wiping his thumb against his bottom lip and looking away, joining his hand in his lap. How can he properly phrase what he’s asking his young friend to do without it seeming sordid and disrespectful? He’s leaving you his legacy when he goes. His home, his royalties that will keep you well taken care of for the rest of your life and, well, he’s planning on leaving Mirio Togata the one gift he deserves the most - you.
He simply lays the plot down, hands still folded in his lap.
“How long have you loved her, kid?”
Mirio feigns shock that his mentor, the one who came after the one he lost years ago, is onto him. He has always played off his affection for you as friendliness and lingering glances as simply curiosity and assumed he has been doing it well enough that nobody notices.
“It’s not like that.”
Toshinori laughs, a weak cough wracking his body and he raises his fist to his grinning mouth to cover it. Mirio leans forward in his seat, reaching for the man who waves him off and instead leans to grab the bottle of hand sanitizer on the desk next to him.
“You are a grown man, Togata. Own up to it. It’s not going to offend me.”
There was no expectation of a trip down memory lane set for the younger man prior to arriving for this visit yet his mind launches into years of fuzzy and undefined memories. Evenings he’d come to visit you in the Support course workshop when he was younger with fewer scars covering his arms and torso, the few times in your early twenties you sat thigh to thigh with him in dimly lit izakaya hanging out with your mutual group of friends and their respective partners who are also heroes. He remembers too much and too little at the same time, skin crawling.
Shifting in his seat, he unclasps his hands and claps them against his thighs.
“A long, long time.” He finally responds and Toshinori chuckles in response, leaning back in his own chair and sliding one of his hands out toward Mirio. “Since I was in high school.”
The truth doesn’t hide forever. It makes him feel childish that he was so easily caught by the older man, replaying years of interactions in his head. Did he smile a little too wide at you? Glance a little too long? Pine a little too openly?
There is no way for him to change anything that has happened before now and the usually easy going man tensely lifts his head, meeting Toshinori’s soft gaze. There is no anger even if these events crossed boundaries, something the man is infinitely grateful for, and he reaches across the desk to take his mentor’s offered hand.
“I know.” He weakly squeezes the younger man’s hand, his lack of strength more evident than ever. Mirio feels emotion welling up inside of him and blinks it back, taking a deep breath. “That’s why I am asking you to give her the life I never could, Togata. Take her traveling when you can. Remind her that she’s brilliant and will probably keep this country safer than any hero ever could. Just…be there for her. For me.”
The request carries more weight than the older man could ever possibly understand. It’s not merely a responsibility but a strange kind of bequeathing. No formal paperwork, no meetings with officials, just two men discussing a woman they both care about deeply and how to best assuage her in the sorrows to come.
It also brings another question to Mirio’s mind he has contemplated for many years - do you have lingering feelings for him too? A far younger version of you, magnetism quirk engaged and using it to make him laugh, certainly did. He assumed those feelings just vaporized over time and with responsibility, your heart belonged to another man before he could ever ask that it be his.
A noble man. A good man who you did not want to see live lonely, by himself in his ailing years. A man Togata spent his entire life trying to emulate.
There’s a flutter of hope through the sorrow of knowing the end is coming for his friend and the younger man is the one to squeeze the older mans’ this time, gentle firm pressure to ensure it doesn’t hurt.
“I know it’s a big request. I don’t blame you if it makes you uncomfortable or if you’d like to say no,” Toshinori adds quickly. “I simply know that she cares about you a lot and always has.” His voice cracks and he swallows his sadness, only grateful that his life has been so glorious the last few years thanks to your gentle touch and your silly stories and your tendency to ad-lib songs to make him smile. “She deserves to be happy.”
The younger man couldn’t agree more. He nods, emotion continuing to rise, breaking eye contact to gaze down at his lap to allow him a moment to compose himself. For his entire twenties, he regretted losing his chance with you despite his gratefulness for the care and love you gave Toshinori. Now, entering his thirties, he gets the opportunity to try again. To speak up when he should and to put the feelings he has harbored for more than a decade to good use.
“I will do everything I can to make sure she is, you have my word.”
Even if it means you want nothing to do with him and keep yourself away from everyone forever. Whatever makes you happy, Mirio Togata will make sure you have it.
“I only have weeks. Months if I’m lucky but I don’t think I’m all that lucky anymore.”
The words make Mirio look up from his lap, brows furrowed. He didn’t think there was so little time left but he is a man of action and nods.
“Then let’s make these next few weeks memorable. What do you need me to do?”
A chuckle from the older man as he finally drops the younger one’s hand gently, tucking it back into his lap to join the other.
“For now, just be around if you can make it work.”
That he can do and he does for three more weeks.
On a warm spring day, a little past the end of cherry blossom season, the world loses All Might.
‘The days I spent with you were the happiest of my life. Let me take care of you for the rest of yours. - Toshinori’
The note he left you, the one you were handed by some man in a suit you’d never met before in the days following his death, rests on your desk. It feels too soon to tuck away the increasingly wrinkled piece of paper and you’re far too grateful for the life he has put between your two palms to stop glancing at the note every few hours each day.
It doesn’t answer any of the questions you have about what becomes of your life now though.
Emotion wells up in you again, a lump in your throat you have to swallow down to continue working, the results from your audit of the Dynamite agency’s safety audit on the screen of the tablet in front of you. They’re generally highly rated, Bakugou’s fastidious tendencies seeping through even the smallest detail of safety and care of his employees, but you have to look away. You close the screen cover and slide the device aside, standing up from your spot at the kitchen table to walk into the living room.
The house feels like a mausoleum even if it’s now yours and yours only. Being alone for the first time in weeks leaves a strange taste in your mouth and you fold your arms over your chest, padding across the wooden floors to plop down on the overstuffed couch you picked out three years ago. Deku’s wife spent a week by your side, the first seven days after the tremendous loss ensuring you ate and slept, sleeping in your bed with you and letting you cry on her shoulder. The day she went home hurt almost as badly as the day you lost the man himself, the encroaching loneliness feeling claustrophobic.
Thankfully, the second week was dotted with various visitors, your former classmates and long time friends of Toshinori paying their respects posthumously by being good to you in his departure. Dynamite’s wife tended to you and forced you out of your house, inviting you over with the promise of visiting with her eager to see you children.
The third week was much of the same, even chatting with his old friend David and accepting condolences from other heroes former and current. Your refrigerator stayed full, your mailbox overstuffed with more cards than you could open wishing you well and thanking you for taking care of him.
The fourth fewer people came but you still stayed busy. The fifth, same. The sixth, seventh, and eighth all followed suit although the amount of visitors thinned. Ninth, tenth, eleventh your house became empty outside of your close friends and Mirio. Now you are twelve weeks past his death and facing down a lifetime of uncertainty in a house that feels too large for you but too small for your pain.
Your heart swells recalling the love you’ve been given but it shrivels when you look around, wondering when it will start to feel full of life again; when you will.
Standing, you lumber over to the wall adjacent to where you sit, admiring the artwork and memories on the wall. There are photos of a freckle-faced teenager who became a freckle-faced man with his wife and children alongside Toshinori. Photos of Mirio grinning and giving a thumbs up in a vintage American All Might t-shirt that was almost too small for him. Photos of you and Toshinori smiling side by side when he was still well enough to attend the occasional event, you in glittering floor length sequins and him in a custom suit built to accommodate his ever weakening body.
Sighing, you reach out and brush your thumb along the frame. The photo doesn’t move, anchored into the wall, and you know that all of the care you gave him wasn’t wasted for a moment. He truly made your life better and you believe you did the same for him, though your eyes flit back to the photo of Mirio for a moment.
You took the picture a few years back while cleaning out the spare bedroom used solely for merchandise and collectables Toshinori had been given over the years. You accosted the younger blonde for pulling a shirt that was clearly too small for him over his head but snapped the photo anyway, grinning behind your phone at his silly posing.
Mirio.
He has been here for you almost as much as your closest friends, popping by daily if able with food or stories or just…sunshine, which is exactly what he is and always has been for the time you’ve known him. Even when the two of you were back in high school he knew your favorite candy and delivered it to your desk daily while spending his evenings sticking paper clips to your arm or the side of your face while your quirk was engaged.
Reaching into your pocket, you grab out your phone and dial his number. He answers before the first ring can even finish its trill.
“Hey-o, what are you doing?”
You giggle at his greeting though he hears the strain in your voice that indicates you are feeling down. He tucks his phone between his shoulder and ear, pulling his sweatpants on in the changing room of the agency, ready to head home.
“Nothing. I tried to work a little bit today and couldn’t focus. I’m sure Bakugou will bitch at me but his audit will simply have to wait another week.”
The man on the other end of the phone chuckles, rising to his full impressive stature and heading toward the exit.
“Do you need a distraction? I could come over.”
The offer is appreciated but you wrestle with how to respond to it. What you assumed were long forgotten feelings for Mirio surface every time you are around him and in your grief and confusion, you struggle to separate them from reality and what’s a balm to make you feel temporarily better. Would seeing him now, only three months removed from losing Toshinori, be appropriate? Is it what’s best?
“You don’t have to, I’m sure it was a long day.”
Togata scoffs, using his coded keycard to exit the building. The sun is still somewhat up, a hot summer evening encroaching and he does not want to go home when he could be spending time with you. The day exhausted him a bit, lots of petty crime picks up during the summertime, but he’s never too tired for you.
“Actually, this was the easiest shift I’ve had in a long time.” He’s lying and you can tell by the lilt in his voice, a particular tone he takes when he’s pretending everything is fine you’ve heard before but you are in no condition to press the issue. “I can pick you up in about thirty minutes and we can just drive if you want?”
You shake your head although he can’t see it. Part of you wants to say no, to rebuff your own feelings once and for all, but you’re weak and hurting and needy.
“We don’t have to go anywhere, we can just stay here if you want to come.”
And come he does, in that promised thirty minutes. He doesn’t bother to knock on the door anymore, punching in the code and announcing himself with a boisterous smile, then plopping down on the couch next to you.
It feels a lot more like coming home than it reasonably should but every time he feels guilty for envisioning his place in his life, next to you, he remembers the promise he made. He will make you happy no matter what that looks like.
Time passes so quickly when he’s around and it’s welcome to have something besides your own loneliness to listen to while he explains one of his heroic saves of the day, enthusiastically explaining phasing through a tree to capture a runaway attempted bank robber.
“So I caught the guy and somehow managed to save all the money too, which is crazy when you think about it. I thought the wind would carry half of it off but not today.”
You smile at him fondly, eyes crinkling at the corners, but he can tell something else is on your mind. Repositioning himself on the couch, he turns toward you and props his head up with his fist.
“Wanna talk about it?”
He has always been able to tell when something is bothering you and your brain screams that you should say no. You should turn down all of Mirio’s kindness and lock yourself inside of this home with your grief forever, a timeless pseudo-widow trapped in a prison of her own making.
But the warmth of his gaze encourages you so much, words bubble out of you before you can stop them, your hands instantly flying to your face to be pressed against your cheeks.
“Despite what people have said, I loved him.”
Mirio’s face falls into a concerned frown when he notices your eyes welling up, your glance firmly trained on his face. The papers were pretty harsh to you when the news of his death and your subsequent appointing the heir to his agency, legacy, and image were announced. Opportunistic seemed to be the media’s favorite term, honing in on the age and vitality difference between the two of you rather than the fact a fairly selfless young woman took care of him not knowing any of this was in her future.
You never took care of him in hopes of getting anything, only out of compassion for a man who has made the lives of others so much brighter. Who heals the healer? You took it upon yourself to be the one and you do not regret a moment of it, sitting cross legged at twenty-nine with a sense of pride despite it all.
“Maybe not in a conventional way. I never had,” your face falls a little, as though you’re fearful of reaction toward what you’re about to say. “You know…sex or anything with him. We kissed a few times, we held hands on occasion but my days and nights revolved around him for five years.”
Your voice breaks and immediately you push your thumbs against your eyes to keep yourself from crying where someone else can see it although the sniffling gives you away, sharp little inhalations through your nose.
“What do I do now?”
The question appears to be rhetorical though he feels compelled to answer, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulders and gently pulling you against his side. The lack of personal space between the two of you is honestly nothing new, certainly more so since Toshinori’s departure, and you settle into the warmth of him. It’s a comfort you need desperately, his fingers drumming a little beat of four into your shoulder.
“Whatever you want.”
You remove your thumbs from over your eyes, sensitive and red rimmed as they are, glancing at the man next to you carefully. The brightness of your living room causes you to squint and he reaches his free hand to wipe tears from your bottom lashes, his crooked index finger pressing delicately against your skin.
“I know that sounds callous and it probably is the wrong thing to say but your life isn’t over just because he isn’t here to watch you live it.” Now it’s Mirio’s voice that cracks and he clears his throat, hand flexing against where it rests on your upper arm. “He left you the tools to live however you want. You have a successful business, you are young and beautiful and…”
He trails off and you blink at him silently. The true feelings he has tried so desperately to hide for the years he has known you are seeping out of him. How much longer can he possibly hold it in before the pressure starts to cause cracks? Before it spills out of him wildly, an ode to you from a boy who has loved you since seventeen?
You stop him from spiraling, opening your mouth to speak while tears escape over his finger and roll down your face.
“I think I’m scared, Mirio.”
This is the first time you’ve admitted it, even to yourself. An undefined future is a terrifying prospect and while Toshinori was here, you were guaranteed to always have him. Scheduled pills and injections, showers and quality of life activities. Even your work is unstructured outside of your scheduled annual audits, only being called upon when you are needed.
He holds you against him, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead. This could be just what you need and although he worries about pushing boundaries, you prove his worries wrong by snuggling further into his side. Your tears drip onto the cotton of his t-shirt and he uses his second hand to begin wiping them away, shushing you gently and affectionately.
“It’s okay to be afraid, he wouldn’t judge you for that, but don’t let it make you waste the opportunity to live exactly how you want.” His words are comforting and you nod against his chest, sniffling. “There is no right or wrong way to handle this.”
This is the first time anyone has told you that it’s okay to not know what to do right now. Not that you’ve ever asked, too fearful of making missteps to try and prevent them at all. You need reassurance and although you’ve been given it, it’s hard not to seek it from a man you’ve found so much comfort in over the past few months. He has been vulnerable with you, it seems only right to do the same for him in return.
Sighing, you unbury your face from his chest. “Do you think I’m doing okay?”
There is a version of you, more than a decade younger than you are now, that lives in Mirio’s mind and he sees her in the way you look up at him with uncertain eyes. It strikes him how long the two of you have known each other; how long he has been dancing around his feelings for you. He nods, removing his arm from your shoulder to cup your cheeks in his palms.
The urge to kiss away those tears is strong but he talks himself down, tilting your head until your gazes fully meet. All of the love he has kept to himself for a decade further threatens to spill out. He stops himself, self restraint a requirement of being a hero after all, and his thumbs gently stroke the rose petal soft skin beneath them.
“You’re doing better with all of this than anyone else ever could.”
There are no words he has ever meant more than these besides the ones he decides to keep to himself, saving the oft considered ‘I love you’ for another day.
“Thank you. For everything. I kind of worry I’m asking too much from you,” you rush to apologize and he keeps his grip on your face gentle but firm.
“You can ask me for anything you need.”
He means it more than he meant his promise to the last man that loved you.
“Alright, I think we’ve had as much fun as we are going to have. Babysitters get paid hourly, you know.”
Katsuki wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her close to him beneath the same lights the six of you used to drink under a long time ago while saying his goodbye. He has never been much of a drinker and hasn’t indulged even a bit tonight but his wife’s relaxed expression gives away how many beers she’s had and you giggle at her, squeezing her hand as she walks by on their way out.
“Be careful you two,” you call after them, Mirio turning to look at you while you glance over your shoulder. Only Midoriya and his wife remain seated across from you two, snuggled in the corner of their side of the booth. Deku’s ever lovely better half raises a brow and nudges her husband in the ribs gently, subtly motioning toward where the pair of you sit.
This is the first night you’ve really enjoyed yourself in the six months since you’ve lost Toshinori. It has been a great walk down a memory lane you haven’t bothered to explore in a long time.
“Gosh, he’s so grumpy,” you laugh to yourself and Mirio giggles beside you, looking as smitten as he always does. Izuku notices it and looks down at his wife, the two of them communicating wordlessly by the time you glance at them. “I’m guessing you two are next to head home?” You tease, your own brain slightly hazy from the few beers you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in.
A little voice in the back of your head made you fear showing your face in public, especially after the scrutiny that came so few months ago, but nobody has taken a second glance at your group of friends despite all of the men in the group landing in the top five of the Hero standings. It appears whatever backlash was sparked has faded quickly. You make a note to thank the classmates you had that now work in the media who were likely behind it, hoping you remember it later.
You haven’t just had a good time tonight, you’ve had a great one. Smiling gratefully, you look over at your two remaining friends.
“Like Kacchan said, babysitters are paid hourly,” Deku raises his brows and shrugs. His wife kisses his cheek, beginning to slide out of the booth while he holds onto her hand and follows.
Mirio nods at Izuku and smiles at his wife, having known the two of them since high school as well, the same story with the now gone Bakugou’s.
“Get that beautiful wife of yours home safe, Deku.” He jokes with a chuckle and his friend laughs in response, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder and then yours.
It’s hard for him to believe how much has changed over these years but how much has remained the same simultaneously. His close friends married their high school sweethearts and settled into their family life, kids and recitals and dinner parties. A piece of him has wondered for years if that could have been the two of you as well if he’d left less up to chance as a young man.
Does it do any good to wonder? Mirio doesn’t know yet he does often, tonight especially.
“You ready to go?”
A little lost in your own world, you look up at him with your eyebrows raised and nod slowly. He looks so handsome, even in this poorly lit room, and heat rises in your face straight to the tips of your ears. It has been a long time since you’ve felt that particular heat, the kind that makes your stomach flip flop.
Would it be wrong of you to ask him if he wants to hang out with you for a little while longer? You don’t have ill intentions in wanting to spend time with him, at least that’s what you tell yourself, and the few beers have made you feel brave.
“Do you wanna hang out with me for a little while? We can just go back to the house or find somewhere else or…” you trail off slightly, a little self conscious. Do you seem desperate? Lonely? Annoying? “If you don’t want to though, I understand.”
Finishing your question hurriedly, you glance up at Mirio who looks at you with that same earnest stare he has given you for years. There are depths in those pretty blue eyes, humor and pain that he has experienced and joy and so much. There is simply so much more to this man than most people know and unexpectedly, it isn’t just your face that feels too hot, it’s the entire room.
“Of course I do. Let me just take you home and we can hang out there, that way I’m not keeping a lady out too late.”
He knows he’s taking a risk by being outright flirtatious with you after months of trying to keep it subtle. He is but a man and knows that look, though. That ‘through the lashes, lips slightly parted, beautiful woman who wants to spend time with you’ look. He’d be a fool to say no, even if you two do nothing but talk for hours. There’s nothing else he’d rather do with the remnants of his night anyway.
“After you,” he offers with a bright grin. The few beers he has had make his cheeks pink and you want to reach out and touch them but refrain, uncertain of how to do all of this correctly. You’ve never really dated, outside of a few hookups in your early twenties, so this is truly foreign territory. It’s a lot to wrestle with the guilt of moving on, something you have reluctantly admitted to yourself it seems you’re doing, and the weight of grief on your shoulders at all times.
When does it ever get better or at the very least, when does it become less of a struggle?
Saving those questions for another, less fun evening you slide out of the booth and he follows after, placing his hand against your back to walk you out of the bar. It feels natural, his fingers splayed across your spine and heat once again blooms. It’s embarrassing to feel so excited by sheer touch.
Your relationship with Toshinori was never sexual. Always a companion more so than a lover despite the deep love that bloomed between the two of you, you spent a lot of nights in a different bed exploring your own body while he slept in his own room down the hall. This was always the arrangement, comfortable for both of you. He was physically incapable of having sex and you never wanted to make him feel like less because of it, still complimenting his appearance and doing your best to make him feel attractive. Which he was, even until the end that smile and those jovial blue eyes had the ability to light up a room.
It’s just different with Mirio. This isn’t the first time that heat has bloomed beneath your belly button, begging you to follow it all the way down a rabbit hole you aren’t quite sure you are ready for and the alcohol is making it worse tonight. If he can tell, he’s being a gentleman about it, something to be grateful about.
The two of you stand in the now cool autumn night air, the city still noisy outside. The breeze chills your warm cheeks and you look up at him to find him glancing down at you, wearing an expression that tells him some of the same things on your mind are on his.
“What are you thinking about?”
The question is laced with humor, as most of what the man says tends to be, and you feel caught with your pants down. Playing it off with a giggle, you decide to push back; to make him feel like he’s the one being surveyed instead.
“Why didn’t you kiss me when we were in high school?”
The topic of first kisses came up tonight, your friends reminiscing about how they’ve shared their first everything together throughout the years, and you recall yours being lackluster. Some guy you went to college with named Dai who slobbered all over your face your first year.
Certainly not who you would’ve preferred sharing a kiss with.
Your question has caught Mirio off guard and he rubs his neck, scrunching his nose and refusing to make eye contact with you. The truth is that he was simply too afraid to make a move and by the time he was able to, it felt improper given the conflict and all that happened.
It was hardly a time for making a move on the girl you had a crush on and the two of you just went your separate ways after that. He became a Pro Hero, working his way up into the top 15 within his first year and then the top 10 the next and only climbing from there, you went to college to pursue your public safety certification. By the time you were able to reconnect in your early twenties, your lives had diverged so wildly it no longer felt appropriate to, well, go after you.
“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I think I was afraid you didn’t like me back.”
Snorting, you attempt to stifle your laughter. He glances down at you, tilting his head, feigning offense.
“Really? I’m being honest with you and you’re going to laugh at me?”
Wrapping your arm around his bicep, you attempt damage control by resting your head against him. A breathy sigh leaves you and you glance upward to catch him staring down at you once again.
“I had such a crush on you that even Hatsume gave me shit about it.” You speak through your nose, attempting the now most sought after equipment outfitter in all of Japan's higher voice and inflection. “Where’s your little boyfriend, magnet girl?”
The two of you devolve into a fit of childish giggles, not unlike the ones you shared back then, and without warning he leans in close to you. You still cling to his bicep but he’s bent at the waist, lips inches from yours, one of his hands reaching to rest against the side of your neck.
“Can I make up for it now?”
Ocean eyes search yours, pleading for an answer. All of that heat courses through your body at once and without putting too much thought into any real consequence, you nod. Just a kiss won’t hurt either of you, for old time’s sake regardless of what may or may not be blooming here. Mirio closes the distance between the two of you and gently brushes his lips against yours, gentlemanly and chivalrous even in the throes his tremendous need to touch and feel and be close to you, and you whimper when he pulls away sooner than you liked.
“Was that okay?”
Giggling, you lean in and kiss him again to give him his reply. It was more than okay, it was everything you’ve ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, a sharp comparison to the well kept and bulky rest of him that you have had to stop yourself from eyeing hungrily on more than one occasion. His mouth tastes like salt and beer and love.
Pure love lives on his tongue that is working its way into your mouth while he hurriedly backs you two into a narrow alleyway between the bar you just left and the building next to it. His knee rests between your barely parted legs and your hands reach for anything they can grab, forearms and biceps and his shoulders and chest. You touch recklessly, one hand sliding up the side of his neck to cup his jaw and the other rubbing circles just beneath the hem of his shirt, above his belt buckle.
“Hey,” he stops you unexpectedly to catch his breath, chest heaving while he glances down at you. “I want to keep this going but I have to tell you first that I love you.”
There it is. The thing he has been keeping to himself for twelve long, torturous years. Mirio loves you so fiercely he wonders how he’s managed to even breathe the last 12 years without you by his side, your laughter and light filling his days and nights no matter how they go.
How could he ever live without you again? He isn’t sure that he could.
Blinking up at him, you slide your hand further up his face and tousle his blonde hair between your fingers.
“I don’t care if it’s too soon for you to say it back or if you ever will but I love you. I have for such a long time it hurts to keep it to myself any longer.”
The smile on your face turns into a full blown grin, fingers still snaked in his hair. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe lust is winning the battle between your wits and your heart or maybe this is a chance to say something you’ve felt for longer than you realized.
“I love you too, Mirio.”
It doesn’t make your love for Toshinori any less real to admit you love the man who has been by your side for virtually 24 hours a day for the last six months and long before that too.
He leans back in and kisses you again, silencing any thoughts other than the two of you and it leaves you breathless, gently grinding against his jean clad thigh and sucking on his tongue. Another pause and he pulls away, cupping your face.
“Take me home with you.”
It isn’t a plea of desperation but one of pure unadulterated need. He needs you, any way you’ll let him have you, tonight.
Nodding, you close the distance and press your lips against his.
“Let’s go.”
In all the time that has passed since you lost Toshinori, your home feels a little brighter when you arise in it each day.
It feels like somewhere you can build your own life now instead of living trapped inside the memory of his. You were concerned that changing anything about this place would rob you of the comfort of having once loved the man who left it to your care but you know he wouldn’t want you to stand in one place for long. All those months ago, Mirio was right when he told you that Toshinori would want you to make the best of what you’ve been given.
Move forward, he’d assure you if he were still here. Be yourself and find happiness.
Despite all the ways you’re still healing, you have.
You think about him every day. You will forever, regardless of the nature of your relationship and how other people view it. Some days the memory of him cuts through you like a knife, especially the last year of your life with him spent doing a lot more caretaking than you’d done the prior four, and other days it’s a gentle breeze. A whisper and reminder that he’s watching you, he loves you, he’s proud of you.
You’ve done the All Might legacy well, donating a large chunk of his fortune back to the communities he so committedly served. Scholarships for students who want to go to hero academies but may not have the pedigree or wealth to let them in, rebuilding the last remnants of an over decade old war that still scar areas of Musutafu tourists don’t visit.
The dreams you have yet to fulfill with what you’ve been provided make your future seem more full than ever. Hospitals bearing his name, education about the balance of hero life and personal life, safety equipment becoming better than ever. Your ambitions are big and you will make them all come true, a vow you made to him on the day he died even if he wasn’t cognizant enough to understand what you were saying.
This is all for him, dearly departed, a man you cared so deeply about you would’ve taken care of him for ten more years if you had to. You’re grateful it didn’t come to that if only for his sake, the suffering his ailing body was facing more than you like to think about even today, but all things considered it was a good life.
Even the papers have commended the woman they once referred to as an amoral opportunist.
Maybe you aren’t so bad after all.
And today when your feet hit the ground, the sun rises and fills the room with light through the gauzy curtains you put up a few months back. The cat you recently adopted twines himself around your legs and looks up at you expectantly, breakfast already a few minutes late. You couldn’t go long without having something new to take care of, the cat was once a beat up little thing brought to you by Lemillion himself one evening after a shift that has grown into a demanding beast.
“Saving little lost cats is a bit cliche, isn’t it?” You joked when he unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and produced the fuzzy, green eyed lump that mewed at you the moment he saw you. Mirio grinned and half shrugged. “Yeah but I’m good at it, right?”
Good he is, you think looking over at his still sleeping form in your bed.
For some, it may be too soon to cautiously lend your heart to another man. You love Toshinori and always will, the impact he left on your life is profound in ways you’ll discover for years to come, but a part of you has always loved Mirio even if circumstances prevented the pair of you from being together. He was once a silly teenager who was too afraid to ask you to be his girlfriend when he graduated high school, satisfied to leave things up to fate, and now he is a grown man who has been by your side through the most painful loss of your life so far, holding you together on the days when you were worried you would crumble.
Both of you are grateful that fate decided well although she took her time and brought a lot of pain on her way.
Instead of getting out of bed, you lean down and pick up your now purring cat and slide back into bed beside him, his hands instinctively reaching behind him for your thighs to pull you closer.
“I didn’t think you were awake,” you whisper and he chuckles, scarred hand running up the expanse of your thigh while your cat climbs onto his shoulder and licks his face. There’s no use in trying to carefully swat the creature away so he lets him settle onto the pillow above his head.
“I always notice when you get up and I have to fight the urge to follow you.”
Giggling, you wrap yourself around his back and rest your cheek between his bare shoulder blades.
“Why’s that?”
He finally turns to face you, blue eyes glancing down at the thing he has wanted for years. Your unmade, half awake face. The domesticity of your cat purring above both of your heads. The promise of packing to take a week off from heroics to go and enjoy a far off destination neither of you have been together.
“In case I ever lose you again,” he admits vulnerably and you smile up at him, hand reaching to cup his cheek.
The half awake mumblings have more truth to them then you could possibly imagine, fear that something else will hurt you or pull you away from him. Fear that he’s going to waste his time again, precious days he has always wanted to spend with you meaning nothing because he’s too cowardly to fight for what he wants. Maybe a younger version of Mirio Togata would have let this happen but not this one, older and wiser that he is.
The ring he plans on proposing to you with this week is nestled in his suitcase, buried beneath too many pairs of socks and probably too few pairs of boxers. He won’t even mind a long engagement, if you need one, as long as he knows forever with you is what waits on the other side.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I think we’re stuck together for life after all we’ve been through.”
As he promised his mentor a few months over a year ago, he will ensure that you are.
#all might x reader#toshinori yagi x reader#mirio togata x reader#lemillion x reader#kendall writes#cw death
123 notes
·
View notes
Text
Netflix Avatar the Last Airbender S1 - Overall Thoughts [SPOILERS]
I am a longtime fan of Avatar the Last Airbender. I did not watch it in its original 2005 run, but I discovered it in around 2010 after my good friend R.S. recommended it to me. It's been my #1 favorite TV show ever since and I have rewatched it more times than I can count. I was cautiously optimistic about NATLA.
Now, having watched the whole first season of NATLA, and looking at the season as a whole, I think the best word to describe it is uneven. I can't say that I loved it, and I can't say that I hated it. But there were things I really liked about it and things that really did not work for me. Overall, I enjoyed watching it -- if only to dissect what did and did not work about the adaptation -- and would want to watch more.
WHAT WORKED
Everything to do with Zuko and Iroh. I found myself going back through just to rewatch all of the Zuko and Iroh-related scenes. I thought Dallas Liu really nailed Zuko -- from tantrums about his journal being stolen to incredible action sequences to the boyish vulnerability of worrying about the laces on his gauntlets. He took an iconic character and made him his own. NATLA added some incredible scenes and lines to my favorite duo: Lu Ten's funeral (coupled with orchestral version of "Leaves from the Vine"); Zuko's first war council; Iroh choosing to go with Zuko on the boat; the 41st Division; Iroh putting a blanket on Zuko. And I liked that NATLA emphasized that Iroh needed Zuko in the wake of Lu Ten's death as much as Zuko needed Iroh after his mother left.
Daniel Dae Kim's interpretation of Ozai. Ozai in ATLA is kind of one-dimensional. Daniel Dae Kim's Ozai adds a deeper layer to him in that he genuinely seems to think he's doing legitimate parenting -- even going so far as to visit Zuko after burning his face and remarking, glibly, that he'll recover ("but he'll never heal," says Iroh). It adds an even more monstrous angle to his cruelty because Kim's Ozai seems to think he's doing it for his children's own good. This post perfectly encapsulates my feelings about why I thought the agni kai between Ozai and Zuko was an excellent addition to NATLA.
Zuko/Aang. These two bonding over goat hair brushes was the scene I never knew I needed. The way Aang managed to wrest a little smile out of Zuko in that scene before Zuko blew up at him for criticizing the Fire Lord? And the way that tied into the "Compassion is a sign of weakness" scene from the agni kai? Great character work.
WHAT DID NOT WORK
Dialogue. I already observed at length my dissatisfaction with the clunky, exposition-dumping dialogue in my episode-by-episode writeups. It certainly wasn't as bad as the Movie-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but . . . there was no art or subtlety to it, and no trust in the audience. A disappointment.
The GAang did not feel like family. The lack of breathing room in the 8-episode season meant that all of the "filler" episodes that fleshed out the relationships between Aang, Katara, and Sokka were sacrificed. I am not saying NATLA needed to recapture each of the filler episodes. But they needed to build the foundational bonds between the main trio with showing not telling and they really didn't. They separated them for big chunks of 2 episodes. And, really, they just felt like traveling companions. That took all of the emotional heft out of, well, everything related to Aang, Katara, and Sokka. I mean, frankly, the kid actors did a better job establishing the "family" dynamic just by being themselves in their press interviews than the show did with the characters.
Aang did not run away from responsibility. I am not one of those people that's just mad that the show wasn't exactly like the cartoon. No. What I mean is, even putting aside the cartoon, even if you just look at NATLA itself: their own themes were undercut by never showing Aang actually running away from responsibility. Each avatar seemed to be berating Aang for doing something he was never actually shown to be doing.
Katara. I really don't think this one is on the actress. Katara felt like a fundamentally different character from ATLA's Katara. It's not to say an adaption is not allowed to have their own interpretation of a character, but... I just did not understand NATLA Katara. There was no passion, no rage, no overbearing nurturing. She was... I don't know what she was. Traumatized, yes, but nothing grew out of that trauma? Meek, until the plot demanded that she suddenly become a waterbending master without any guidance other than a waterbending scroll? The "younger sister"? More than any of the main characters, I'm not sure what NATLA was trying to say about Katara at all. And, as a result, I'm afraid the word to describe it might be uninteresting. And given that she is the heart and soul of Team Avatar, this one was really tough.
Despite the fact that a lot of NATLA did not work for me, I still enjoyed it because the things that did work for me, well, really worked. So. I'm here for all of the Zuko/Iroh scenes!
#avatar the last airbender#atla#a:tla#avatar: the last airbender#netflix atla#natla#netflix avatar#live action avatar
173 notes
·
View notes
Text
Movie Magic
jason todd x gn!reader
summary: a cozy movie marathon date with jason todd
tags: fluff, kissing, minor reference to canonical character death
rated teen | wc: 1k
a/n: inspired by an ask from the lovely @orchidsangel
It’s a Saturday morning, and the weekend is stretching wide in front of you. It’s been a long week, so you and Jason have decided to do a movie marathon together instead of going out. The morning starts with breakfast, fresh fruit and real maple syrup drizzled over French toast. Dishes done side by side in the sink, winter sun coming in pale through the window. A few days earlier, when you’d done the grocery shopping, you’d picked up snacks specifically for this day. There’s popcorn and chips, pretzels and M&Ms, licorice and skittles. Each gets put out in their own bowls, ready to be eaten. Then would come building the blanket fort. Moving cushions and the duvet from the bed out into the living room, pulling bedsheets out of the linen closet. While Jason rolls an empty clothing rack out to hold up the blankets, you get the idea to take down some of your fairy lights and put them up in the fort, little pinpricks of light to stop Jason’s fear of small dark spaces from creeping in. It takes all of your decorative throw pillows you had insisted on and Jason had affectionately rolled his eyes at for you both to get comfortable. But it is comfortable, tucked up under Jason’s arm and swaddled in blankets, snack bowls tucked between your hip and the side of the couch.
Jason puts on the first movie, something you both loved as children. You laugh at the same moments, point out your favourite characters and scenes. His ribs knock into yours when he snorts, warm and solid beside you. Jason puts on the sequel, which you both agree is nowhere near as good as the first. Offhandedly you mention that at least the third was better since they brought back the scriptwriter from the first movie and Jason has to press pause. Turns to you jaw slightly open and asks if you’re serious, that there’s a third one, that they made more. The thing is, there was a third movie, only Jason wouldn’t have known. Resurrection and revenge doesn’t really leave a lot of time for catching up on pop culture. You wrap your arms around him tighter, navigate to the next movie and press play. For this one, the two of you are silent. Jason’s eyes are wide and attentive, lips parted in awe. You watch him as much as the movie, drink in his reactions eagerly and the way his arm tightens around your shoulder at the tense moments. The credits start to roll, and still Jason doesn’t say anything.
“So… what did you think?” You ask. He runs his fingers through his hair, looks you in the eye, and goes on one of the most impassioned rants you’ve ever heard him give, and you’ve heard him rant about everything they got wrong in the newest Sense and Sensibility adaptation. He barely stops to breathe between discussing the casting and how surprisingly good the stunts were. He talks himself hoarse until you pass him your soda. That manages to interrupt his flow of thought, and he apologizes sheepishly for getting too caught up in the movie. “S’okay, I like hearing you be passionate. What did you think of the cinematography?” and he’s off again, hands flying through the air as he tries to describe just what parts excited him the most.
It’s his stomach rumbling that interrupts him a second time, causing the two of you to laugh. Lunch gets eaten on the couch, plates carefully balanced on laps. You convince Jason to watch Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and the look on his face when he gets torn between getting a version of his favourite book with added death jokes and wanting to point out how inaccurate a Regency society faced with the zombie apocalypse is, makes you have to constantly stifle giggles. You take turns after that, introducing each other to different movies as the pale sun slowly moves across the sky. Jason chooses a movie Damian made him watch, which despite the scary moments that have you burying your head in his shoulder, has some of the most beautifully shot scenes you’ve seen in a while. You get into a heated debate over Howl’s Moving Castle, eventually having to agree that book Sophie is more interesting but movie Howl is more dreamy. Jason has to dive for the popcorn bowl when you start yelling at the tv screen for the characters in the next movie to just talk to each other goddamn it! He indulges you when you rant about how most of the time the miscommunication trope is just lazy writing, that if the scriptwriters wanted to get the audience actually invested in the characters then they needed to stop making the climax something so easily fixable. You get so excited when something happens onscreen that you know a behind-the-scenes story about. Poking Jason in the side to make sure he’s listening before launching into an anecdote about how they’re actually only filming on horseback for the long shots, all of the closeups done on fake platforms to make filming easier. Or how the censorship rules of the time meant the director had to find a way for the characters to metaphorically kiss, and that’s why they’re always sharing cigarettes.
It’s beyond time for dinner, but full on snacks and treats, neither of you are feeling hungry yet. You’d introduced Jason to the magic of peanut M&Ms mixed into butter popcorn and you can tell that he’s going to be obsessed for the next while. The credits on the latest movie are rolling, there’s dishes to do and a couch to put back together, but all those things can wait. You look up from where you’re curled up beside him, cozy under the blanket and the weight of his arm, and he’s smiling down at you fondly. It doesn’t take much to stretch up and press your lips to his. He tastes like chocolate and salt and a long lazy afternoon. You can feel the edges of his lips turning up into a smile against yours.
“What was that for?” He murmurs.
“For listening to me ramble. And for introducing me to your favourite things.”
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x gender neutral reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x male reader#jason todd headcanon#jason todd imagine#jason todd fic#jason todd fanfiction#red hood x reader#jason todd x y/n#sunnie writes 🌻#pictures from pinterest#dividers by benkeibear
173 notes
·
View notes
Text
The QSMP is looking for smaller English-speaking streamers, so I figured I'd take the time to introduce qsmpblr to none other than Eric "Condi" Condifiction!!
// this will contain (very minor) spoilers for jrwi riptide, apotheosis, bitb, some prime defenders, and the SCU //
Condi is an English-speaking Canadian who's a part of Just Roll With It (JRWI), the absurdly powerful dnd podcast he runs with his friends Bizly, Grizzly, and Slimecicle!! He plays several characters across their multiple campaigns, along with DM'ing his own campaign of Apotheosis. He plays/played Jay Ferin for Riptide, Rolan Deep for Blood in the Bayou, Sylnan Vengolor for Fated, Flynn Gustwind for Convergence, and Vyncent Sol for Prime Defenders. (plus something im probably forgetting whoops anyway)
He is insanely talented at rp and improv, with some of the more infamous and my favorite examples being episodes 53, 100, and 101 in JRWI: Riptide. The way he plays Jay Ferin is emotionally devastating and incredible, and she's genuinely brought me to tears multiple times. Though he plays his absolute heart out with every character he makes, she's just a neat example of his range and talent. Looking at the differences between Jay, the Navy's daughter, and someone like Rolan Deep, a lawyer returning to his hometown of Galloway to experience The Horrors™ is just wild man. Not to even mention everything he does with Vyncent and his multiple different characters inside him; along with everything he made for his own campaign of Apotheosis.
Something something charlie slimecicle calls him "God Gamer Condifiction." He's really good at video games dude I have no way to talk about this he just is its really scary honestly. On one of his more recent streams he went live playing Only Up! and he beat it in one go without any major setbacks, fast enough to refund the game and get all the money he spent on it back. Just for context.
He also has a background in minecraft roleplay specifically!! He was part of the SCU (Slimecicle Cinematic Universe) where he roleplayed several different characters. God!Condi and 100Days!Condi being the more defined ones. Everything he did in the SCU was nearly pure unscripted improv and incredibly impressive, and I highly recommend you go through and watch it!! (I go into detail on how to get into it on this post)
He doesn't just have background in the roleplay aspects of minecraft though, he was also briefly on SMPEarth and is skilled at regular minecraft too. He mainly strives at the roleplay aspects, but again the whole God Gamer Condifiction thing so ^_^
youtube
^ Here's a good example of his regular PVE skills in this video where his chat tortures him through a crowd control mod as he tries to build a cottage core lesbian house
youtube
^ Along with a link to of one of my all time favorite videos of his, which I think shows his humor and style of jokes off in a cool way :]
Overall I just really need my dnd guy to be in my favorite minecraft server so he can make so many SCU references with Charlie Slimecicle, then emotionally devastate us through the roleplay aspect. I really hope he manages to get in so everyone gets a taste of his amazing roleplay and gaming (i guess thats how im phrasing it) abilities :DD
Condifiction 👍
#i make yet anothet post just for me 👍#qsmp#qsmpblr#jrwi#its weird putting his first name but it feels wrong without it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#id in alt text#^_^#THIS ENTIRE THING TOOK WAY TO FUCKING LONG#ANYWAY‼️‼️ im so hyped he even expressed interest in this server dude#im literally qcondi truthing so hard 🙏🙏#if qcharlie is real than qcondi can be real PLEASE
300 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love, Rest Your Head
Rating: Teen and Up
CW: Canon Typical Injuries
Tags: Pre-Season 4, Aftermath of Starcourt Mall, Aftermath of Torture, Season 4, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Steve Harrington, Major Character Injury, Established Relationship, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Mentions of Vomiting, Self Sacrificing Steve Harrington, Mentions of Major Character Death (In Reference to Hopper), Foreshadowing, Ambiguous Ending
💕—————💕
The news was pure devastation. Overhead shots of the Starcourt Mall burning. Flames engulfing the building on all sides, swallowing it up until it sat a collapsed, ashen mess. There was no structure. No semblance to any kind of store that was inside. Just dust. Blackened walls. Melted floor tiles.
Eddie sat on the edge of the couch cushion, left hand tucked harshly under his thigh, chomping down on his right hand’s fingernails. There was a metallic tang on his tongue, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. Not even when the raw, exposed parts of his skin bared themself as a tender ache in his mouth’s warmth. Nothing could stop him. In between bites, there were moments where he was holding his breath. Gasping for it when push eventually came to shove. At least it was air he was choking on, not bile.
His uncle was stoic in his recliner in the corner. Until, with the quietest and gruffest voice Eddie’s ever heard, Wayne said, “Your boy. He’s in the parking lot. Has to be.”
“What if he isn’t?” Eddie barely mustered. “What if—What if he’s not there in the parking lot with all those ambulances? What if Steve’s stuck in the debris and he can’t get out and nobody can hear him and then he doesn’t come home and I never—“ He was back to choking on his breath. Sipping at the smallest pockets of air he could manage.
Wayne didn’t answer. The promises that could be made in this moment, every single one of them could be a fallacy.
Then, the news reporter read out those who suffered in the fire. That crisped with the building. Ones that couldn’t be recovered. Ones that were found, yet only identifiable by the licenses in their pockets.
Jenna Kinling
Parker Smith
Tony Roberts
Billy Hargrove…
Eddie bit his fingers harder at that last name. Maybe they didn’t run in the same circles or maybe they weren’t friends. But Billy was still a young dude. He had a life ahead of him. They had classes together. What if…What if…What if, rings loudly in Eddie’s head.
Except, Steve isn’t listed. Neither is his new friend, Robin. They aren’t…They weren’t found in the rubble. They weren’t believed to be in it either. And, as if on cue, the trailer’s phone begins to ring. Eddie is up and out of his seat before he has a chance to miss a single ring.
“Munson residence, Eddie speaking,” he answers hastily.
On the other end is the wet, nasally, raspy breathing of another person. The deeper the breaths, the more he can make out it’s somebody masculine. Their intakes are interrupted by small sniffles. Short bursting whimpers that come from sure pain, not pleasure.
“Hello?” Eddie speaks quietly.
The person gasps. Sobbing around the words, “Eddie…Eddie, I need help.” Steve.
“I’ll help, sweetheart,” he promises immediately. “What do you need? I—Uncle Wayne is here, too. We can help. We can—“
“‘M at the mall. And it’s all charred and…and gone. And I think I—I left your birthday present in Scoops and I’m sorry that I—My head hurts, Eds. It hurts and I’m bleeding and the paramed—they think…Billy’s dead and I watched him die and it scared me and—I don’t like him, I don’t like him at all but he looked sad and he looked…He’s dead, Eddie. I watched somebody die, Eddie,” Steve rambles. His words are heavily slurred. Barely breaking by his breath. Almost swirled by puke.
Before Eddie has the chance to interrupt, Steve is continuing. “I protected Robin from getting hurt,” he says seriously, gravely. But his next words are tiny, as if Eddie was listening to a child, not his eighteen year old boyfriend. “You’re going to be mad at me.”
“Why?” He asks. Shakes his head though, and asks instead, “Where should I pick you up? Does Robin have a ride home?”
“I got beat up again,” Steve barrels on. “’T’s really bad, Eds. Everything is ringing. Makin’ me nauseous.” His breaths grow heavier as if he’s ready to retch on his sneakers.
Eddie prepares himself to hear it all, because he knows it’ll happen. Knows it like the back of his hand, unfortunately. From how many other times Steve’s been concussed. Yet, he doesn’t care, saying, “I’ll take care of you here at home, but I need you to tell me where I need to pick you up. Does Robin need a ride?”
Steve mumbles, “She already left. Hugged her and everythin’. Rob—Robin’s safe. I protected her from getting hurt. They were going to hurt her, Eds. It would’ve been my fault for getting her involved.”
The words crawl under Eddie’s skin like spiders. He wants to scratch at himself, get them out of his head. Get away from how small each word is that comes from Steve’s mouth. He wants to find out who ‘They’ are and kill them. Wants to rip this world apart for making Steve sound so…horrified. But he just calmly asks, “Where are you, Steve? Where at the mall are you?”
“Front,” Steve mutters, “at the payphone. The one with all the gum on the back. It’s gross, Eds. I feel gross. Smell like—I’m sorry.”
Eddie just swallows harshly. Doesn’t know why Steve’s apologizing. But he’s scared shitless, that’s for sure. He grabs for his car keys on the dining table. “I’m going to hang up, Stevie. I’ll be there soon, okay?”
The last thing he hears is Steve coughing and retching up his lungs. Spiders work their way into his veins.
———
Sure enough, Steve’s by the payphone. Sitting with his knees up to his chest. Leaning against the thin pole of the phone. Inches away from whatever lunch he had last. Doesn’t look like much. Eddie just thought Steve was busy with work and relaxing at home. Though…Eddie’s starting to piece together that maybe Steve never left work. Like he’s been here way too long.
Steve shivers where he grasps to himself and Eddie approaches with great caution.
He crouches down to Steve’s level, keeps his hands to himself, and speaks softly. “Steve, it’s Eddie. I brought you a jacket. And some water. I’ve got crackers. You ready to go home?”
With his one good eye, Steve looks to him. Blood caked around his nose and mouth and chin. Eyebrow split, though covered with a butterfly bandage. His left eye is swollen shut and a deep, concerning purple. A part of Eddie almost wants to ask who left Steve here like this. To sit by himself and hold to his elbows. But, a stronger part of him cares too much about making sure Steve gets home.
Slowly, Steve reaches out his right hand and grasps at Eddie’s left wrist. Thumb harsh over his pulse point. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Without any fanfare or warning, Steve’s eyes fill with tears. Streaming down his face in sluggish lines. “I was stupid and got in trouble again and now I’m all…I’m all broken and ugly and I smell really bad and you’re gonna have to stay awake with me because I’m not allowed to sleep and I—“
“Baby,” Eddie whispers lowly, “Steve, I’m just glad that you’re alive. I’d rather look after you all beaten up and bloody than…Well, y’know.”
“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Steve meekly asks.
“Do you want me to be mad at you?”
With great force, Steve shakes his head. Hissing and hiccuping at the pain that surges through him. “It hurts so bad,” he whimpers. “I just—They were going to hurt Robin and—and the kids. I couldn’t let them do that and now I—“
Eddie gently shushes him. “You don’t need to explain yourself right now, okay, sweetheart? We’ll talk about it when you’re better.”
“What if I never talk about it?”
He shrugs. Wraps his free hand over Steve’s where it still grips him. “Then you don’t talk about it,” he whispers. “Let me take you home, though? Give you the food and water I brought. Warm you up and change your clothes. Can clean your face,” Eddie lists. He cups the injured side of Steve’s face with a tentative hand, barely touching his swollen skin. “Clean this all up and brush your hair. Let you sleep.”
“I can’t sleep for long,” Steve reminds him.
“Wake you up every few hours, that’s fine. I don’t have school tomorrow, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“‘M’kay,” Steve agrees quietly. He’s drooping in Eddie’s hold. Exhaustion quickly swamping him. “Sorry if I throw up in the car.”
Eddie gently hefts them up off the ground, leads them towards the van, and gets Steve situated in his passenger seat. He murmurs, as he buckles Steve in, “I can clean up. But I’ll leave the window rolled down. I’ll drive slow. Do you want the jacket?”
Steve shakes his head softly. His eyes are closed and the rest of him is very still to his seat. As if moving anything physically pains him. It probably does, based on what Eddie’s able to see. “I don’t want to be reminded of the heat,” he state quietly.
“Okay,” Eddie whispers. He leans up into Steve’s space, presses a short kiss to his temple, and cranks the passenger window down. “Just lean towards the window a little. Rest. I’ve got you, baby.”
The car ride is incredibly slow, it makes Eddie antsy. But out of the corner of his eye, he notices Steve tensing at every gradual rumble and deep pothole. It makes Eddie want to just get out and push the van. He slides a hand off of the steering wheel and goes to grab Steve’s left wrist, but he jolts away. Head colliding solidly with the window frame.
“Don’t,” Steve bites. “Don’t touch me there,” he whispers.
Eddie swallows down the sudden rise of bile in his throat. “Okay, Steve,” he murmurs right back. “Do you…you need me to pull off for a second? Give you a break from the bumpy road?” Steve gives a slow and tentative nod.
He pulls to the shoulder, parks in silence, and just sits in the driver’s seat. Face forward, eyeing beyond the windshield. He’d turn on the radio, try to fill the gap between their bodies, but knows that the noise would be too much. Instead, he listens in on Steve’s audible deep breaths. Like he’s trying to ground himself to the carseat or maybe veer away from puking out the window. Eddie wants to touch and soothe, like he normally would during Steve’s concussions. But…he can’t. There are tears percolating in the corners of his eyes.
“You need water?” Eddie quietly asks.
“Please,” Steve mutters lowly. His voice is crackling and snotty wet.
Eddie moves slowly between the front seats, grabs an unopened bottle of water, and uncaps it. He leans across the center console to find a straw in the glove box. Plops it in the bottle and offers it up for Steve to take. “Slow sips,” Eddie states, “don’t need to make yourself sicker.” Steve angles his body away from the window, leans forward slightly, and takes the straw between his lips. Each swallow of water looks like he’s trying to consume rocks. His tongue working slowly, hesitantly against the straw. Testing it. “You’re doing a good job,” Eddie can only praise.
When Steve pops off the straw, it’s with a gasping breath. Catching and falling and catching again. He lolls his head on the seat, looking over to Eddie. Chest moving up and down with shallow, croaking shakes of air. “We can go,” he rasps, “I wanna sleep.”
The water bottle goes to the cup holders. And Eddie does what he’s told. Crawling slowly back home. Taking small pauses to check in with Steve, help him drink water, nibble on some crackers, rub his back when he hurls out the car window.
But when they make it back home, they move in complete and utter silence. Through the front door and to the couch. Wayne ogles the two of them, fear present in his eyes. His mouth hangs open, suckled dry of all words he could ever think to say. Eddie makes him grab a bowl of warm water and a rag.
And they just exist in silence.
In fear, Eddie now realizes, of whatever happened to Steve.
Because they’re not stupid. This wasn’t a fire. There was something else. Something more…disastrous. Dastardly. But Eddie places the bowl on the coffee table, sits on Steve’s right on the cushions, and turns them towards each other.
“Alright, I’ve gotta clean the blood off of your face, Stevie,” he encroaches their silence. “I’m going to be really careful. I’ll go slow. But I need you to tell me when you need a break, okay?” Steve blinks groggily at him. His eyes are dilated beyond belief. Eddie’s nauseous just looking at them. These aren’t the eyes he fell in love with.
These eyes are like terror in existential form.
Steve nods, though. He places a shaking hand on Eddie’s left knee. Doesn’t tighten it, doesn’t pet the fabric under his hand, just rests it there. As if he’s searching for an anchor.
Eddie wets the wash rag with the warm water. Raises it to Steve’s chin. “If this hurts, you need to tell me. Here we go.” The rag stains pink and crimson as soon as it touches Steve’s skin. He hates how hard he has to press just to work the blood off, but it’s dried to him. It’s coming off in flakes, Eddie sees the particles fall to Steve’s dirtied uniform. As he works the rag over Steve’s face, he can’t help but notice how stained and red the uniform is, too.
It used to be something Eddie could tease Steve about. Be flirtatious and saucy about it. Talk about stupid things with. Make dumb fantasies and see if Steve will play into them. But looking at it now only makes Eddie’s chest hurt. Makes his stomach turn uneasily. Shrivels something inside of him that will never live again. But he’ll get Steve into his clothes. Get him comfortable. Maybe he’ll burn the uniform when Steve isn’t looking. Rid of it like a demon needing to be expelled.
The last bit of the blood finally comes away, flaking from Steve’s nostrils to the washcloth. Eddie places it back in the pink tinted water. And then he looks back. At Steve’s child like eyes. And his split lip. The plum like bruise around his left eye.
Eddie’s never had homicidal thoughts, but today might just be the eye opener for him.
But he continues to be gentle. Offering, “Let’s get you some of my clothes. I’ll wash your hair in the bathroom sink. Then, you can rest.” Steve just nods, allows Eddie to pull him along to the bedroom, and change him out of his clothes. Ignores the slight bruising on his ribs, where he most likely struggled or fell. Tries to not think about the red, twisting lines across Steve’s chest, arms, and wrists from where he’d been tied. Just covers Steve back up in reds and blacks and soft things. And, while Steve is looking away, throws the Scoops uniform away in a nearby waste basket.
Washing his hair is no struggle. Steve goes listless and quiet when Eddie scrubs at his scalp, carefully detangles knots that were glued together by sticky blood. He barely blinks as he watches Eddie move and go through his hair washing routine. Doesn’t protest any of what Eddie chooses to do—even when he puts too much conditioner in the ends of his hair or doesn’t do two wash throughs with the shampoo, even if he uses a hair dryer instead of a towel. Allows him, which Eddie finds a little odd. He has an inkling, though, that it may just be the gentle touch that Steve doesn’t want to mitigate.
When they’re back in bed, Eddie lays flat on the mattress. Putting space between their two bodies. His alarm is set for three hours from now, where he’ll wake Steve up and make sure his concussion symptoms either are stagnant or lessening. But for now, he just stays put. Eyes up at his ceiling, stomach turning and knotting at whatever happened today.
Whatever happened almost doesn’t matter, knowing Steve made it out alive.
But there’s a haunting to him that Eddie can’t ignore.
Right when he thinks Steve is asleep and goes to close his own eyes, does he hear the smallest of statements.
“Hopper died, too,” Steve murmurs.
“No…”
Steve nods sagely against his pillow. “Heard about it through some of the kids I babysit. Guess he…Guess I wasn’t the only one to make a sacrifice.” Eddie hears him shift, coming closer. His body warmth radiating and tight against his rigid body. There’s a hesitant palm that slithers and sits on Eddie’s chest. Where his heart beats rabidly. “Could…Could’a been me.”
Eddie places his own hand over the back of Steve’s. Presses them together firmly. His chest caving with the push. “Don’t say that,” he harshly whispers. “Don’t…Steve, I thought it was going to be you. Please don’t say that.”
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I just…That’s the only thing I could think of before you got me. How I—I almost didn’t get to see you again.”
“At least you’re with me now, right? I’m just glad that you’re alive.”
“Yeah,” Steve croaks. “I just wish I could bring myself to tell you what happened.”
“Don’t need to do that, Steve. Just rest up and get better for me, alright?”
Steve shuffles closer. His head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. He nods. “Thank you. I love you,” he sleepily murmurs.
Eddie wraps an arm around his back and squeezes him tightly. “I love you, too, love bug. Get some sleep and I’ll check on you in a bit.”
The snores are a comfort after tonight.
———
And when he looks Steve in the eyes, mere seconds before he leaves for Vecna, Eddie understands the harrowing sacrificial fear. He’ll be the one to protect Steve now. “Make him pay,” he says. But he knows, reflected in Steve’s eyes, that there is finality in his stare. His stomach turns and his hands shake, but damnit, he’ll make sure that Steve won’t be the one drowning in blood this time.
He hopes to hear snores against his shoulder tomorrow night.
If night comes.
💕—————💕
124 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
