#BUT HE STILL DID IT BECAUSE DREAM BEGGED AND HE DIDN'T WANT TO DESTROY THE WORLD DREAM LOVED SO MUCH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pseudowho · 4 months

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okay here’s me getting all cocky and confident because you answered my ask once (ily for that seriously i think i screamed and fainted and sobbed and climbed up the walls a little) and once again asking you for….. for crumbs………. so my horny self was sitting and thinking…………… nanami sees you reading absolute filth and porn and you end up in biig trouble.. (i.e him doing that exact thing to you 😭) or perhaps you going up to nanami after reading absolute filth and being all needy with him bcs that straight porn made you a liittle…….. yk… 🌚🌚🌚

anyways i literally love you and ur my favorite writer ever and im gonna stop now before i burst

SMUT [smuht] (noun)

In which Nanami Kento catches you reading dirty literature...and punishes you with a performative reading.

Warnings: The anon who keeps targeting me like this needs a warning label...but otherwise: roleplay, erotic literature (*laughs and laughs in Tumblr*) being read to you while you're systematically destroyed, performative Bad!Nanami, Kento fucks you wearing a mask and leather gloves, Pleasure Dom!Kento who gets lost in the sauce, reader way out of her depth, bondage, the usual spicy goodness, couple of cheeky movie references

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The one she knew only as the Man in the Mask swept over to her, delighting in her capture, having evaded him for so long.

"Ahhh..." he sighed, his breath sweeping over the swell of her breasts, and sending shivers down her spine. "Finally...the little mouse who has wreaked havoc on my dreams for too many lonely nights. How does it feel? To be trapped here with me like this?"

Her heart stalled in her chest, and she gasped, his grazing touch to her belly leaving embers in its wake. The Man in the Mask saw her nipples pebble beneath her shirt, and felt something snap inside him as he loomed over her with a whisper; "I know. I feel it too."

With little warning, he lowered his barely covered mouth to her neck, hungry against her, and--

The door opened, and you leapt out of your skin, dropping your phone to the floor. You sat bolt upright in bed, your other hand coming up guiltily from beneath the covers as Kento leaned into the bedroom to greet you. You interrupted him.

"You're home early," you said, offering an unconvincing smile. Kento looked at you, flatly. He let the statement hang for a moment. His shrewd eyes flicked, taking in the glossy subtleties he saw from you only in foreplay.

"...well I thought you'd be pleased, but I'll just go back then shall I--"

You hesitated, words caught in your throat. Your eyes flickered to your phone. So did Kento's. His eyes narrowed.

"...what are you read--"

"Nothing! It's nothing." You lied, unconvincing. You both hesitated for a moment more, before Kento darted. You cursed at him for being faster than you, and Kento's fingers closed around your phone, sitting beside you on the bed in one swift movement. You smothered a pillow over your face, screaming silently, wanting the duvet to grow great maws and swallow you whole.

Kento read silently for a moment, scrolling, before reading aloud; "...she didn't want to fight anymore, as his fingers slid between her puffy lips...goodness me...his cock strained against the fabric of his clothes, begging for attention...I bet it did..."

You had begun to crawl away down the bed, just a maggot, unworthy of the sun and all its glories.

You felt a hand clasp around your ankle, and you squeaked as Kento dragged you back up the bed, without even taking his eyes off your phone.

"I don't think so, where are you going--"

"--oh god Kento just give me something for the cringe and let me die--"

"--no no no I'm blessed to be a part of my wife's interests--"

"--I am less than human, we need a divorce, I can't look you in the eye ever again--"

Kento scoffed, dark and derisive. "As if I'd let you divorce me. As if you'd even want to...now, where did I put that..."

Kento stood, still holding your phone as he rummaged in his dresser. You laid flat to the bed, trying to wiggle away again, still embarrassingly wet, your mortification laced with undeniable arousal.

"Stay exactly where you are, or I'll damn well make you."

You stopped. You looked up at Kento, unusually meek, as he approached you. He stood by the bed, looming and powerful, a god made flesh. He unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, not bothering to remove his harness. He undid his belt with a clink-clink. He let his tie hang loose...and pulled a black balaclava down to beneath his collar. He finished off with a pair of soft, black leather gloves.

Something imploded inside you; a dial-up noise in your mind. Kento prowled over to you, looming over you and chasing you up the bed, caging you beneath him, and reading through the smut on your phone screen.

"Be honest," Kento read aloud, his honey-brown eyes swirling with something altogether darker and more dangerous, "if you'd wanted to escape me...you could have."

You panted, breathless, your pupils blown into inky black as you lay splayed beneath Kento. You couldn't help but be captivated, lost in his insidious pull. You felt your heartbeat between your legs.

"Did you stay because you dream of me, too?" Kento intoned. You bit the poisoned apple, trembling as you nodded up at him. "Did you stay...because you wondered if hatred was as erotic a passion as love?"

"--Kento, I-- let me go, I--"

"That's the spirit." Laughed Kento, his voice booming through you, the vibrations crackling across every nerve, and you whimpered. Kento grasped your hands together with his own, gloved and powerful, pinning them above your head with the whole weight of his body. He pulled his tie loose with the hand holding your phone.

"I can't let you leave...not now. Fuck...you have no idea what you do to me, do you?" Kento growled. Being the villain seemed so effortless to him. Your safe word had never been further from your mind, your attempts to leave so paltry and insincere. The way Kento looked down at you, waiting to see if you would make him stop, sent shivers down your spine. Kento released his tie, eyes skimming across your phone for confirmation.

"I'd apologise, for trapping you here like this..." Kento intoned, tying your bound wrists to the head of the bed as you squirmed, crying out in anguish, "...but I'll show you...how you've craved my touch, just as I have craved yours." You strained against the bonds, in just the silky chemise you wore for bed, and it didn't take much for your breasts to fall free of the fine little straps.

In truth, Kento had never been harder in his life. Seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted embarrassed squirms brushing your bare mound against his aching, thick cock...and your nipples, hard as diamonds and covered by a thin veneer of lace. His breaths were heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading.

"Just one taste, and we can return to how it was before." Kento groaned, his mouth suckling at your neck, licking, tasting, biting. You cringed against the assault on your senses, afraid to lose yourself to such diabolical pleasure. Kento pinned your bucking hips down with his own, the tip of his cock trapped beneath his waistband against his belly. "Just once...and we can rest easy at night, knowing how it feels for me to spend myself inside you."

You keened, mewling as Kento rested the phone on the pillow beside your head, and took your nipple into his mouth, ragging it around beneath his tongue with a fractured growl. Your head spun with the weight of him, totally captured, so wildly out of control. The suckling pleasure he gave to your nipples, connected in a fine thread to your clit, making it pulse with vicarious bliss.

"I can't...can't take it anymore...Ken--" You moaned, squeaking as his teeth closed in barely hinged warning around your breast.

"Unless it's to tell me to fuck you, I won't have you mewl like a kitten at me any longer." Kento rumbled against your breast, wet with his spit and the marks he left behind as he took what he was owed. "I hope you can take it. I'm...no small man. If you are ruined, after, I know you will bear the scars with grace, just as you have bore your hatred of me."

You were already so steeped in the hot rush of being pleasured, you did not notice how Kento's eyes glowered, lathering down your body and darting occasionally back to your phone. He continued his pilgrimage down your body. Kento growled in frustration at the chemise blocking him, and he rucked it up, spitting curses as you squeaked, wriggling against him.

"At least fight like you mean it." Kento laughed, and you blushed, eyes squeezed shut, mortified by how obviously faked your resistance was. Kento kissed his way down your belly, settling at your mound. He hovered, silent, giving your desperate clit nought but the breath from his lips.

"Do you want my fingers...or my mouth?" You whimpered again, babbling nonsense, such a rough and ruined heroine. Kento laughed again, dark and delicious, raising his mask just enough to free his mouth. "No words? No matter. You shall have both."

With little warning, Kento sunk his tongue between your folds, ragging his mouth and nose from side to side again to bury himself in the heat of you. You cried out as he growled into your heat, hitting a high note as he sunk two thick, gloved fingers into your fluttering pussy, slamming inside all the way to his knuckles.

Kento swore against your pussy, grunting and moaning as he lapped at your clit and entrance with animalistic rage. Quite canonically to his role, his cock wept against his belly, pre-cum leaking down onto his waistband until the fabric was cloying and sticky, the friction against his tip sending him spiralling. He couldn't help but fuck against the bed as you melted beneath him, writhing against his tongue.

Panting, letting his gloved fingers fuck into you and imagining it was his cock instead, Kento chuckled against your clit, at just how easily he had snapped. He pulled his fingers out of you for a moment, wickedly obsessed by the stark contrast of your creamy white arousal on the black leather.

He could smell you on the balaclava, the fabric over his nose soaking with your essence. Kento felt lightheaded with the blooming, heady scent of you. His cock twitched, aching and neglected, and so close to spilling thick spurts of seed all over its owner.

You risked looking down for just a moment. The eyes of a villain pierced through you, as Kento licked his gloves clean, not breaking eye contact once. You whimpered. He laughed, and curled his fingers back into you, continuing his relentless attack on your poor, aching cunt. Your moans reached a fever pitch, and Kento felt the creep of his own orgasm through his belly as he rutted against the bed with total abandon.

"Sing for me." He groaned, lifting your hips off the bed as he knelt, sucking your clit into his mouth in a devastating final move. You tipped violently over the edge, bucking against his tongue and crying his name, a stream of nonsensical babbles. Kento was quite sure you came harder than the girl in the story.

By the time you came back to earth, being licked in slow, languid movements through your peak, you saw Kento kneeling between your legs, stroking his cock in long, jerking pumps.

"You've reduced me to this." Kento forced, his teeth gritted and his mask back in place over his mouth. "To this...this boy, fucking his own fist just from the taste of you." Kento cursed, his gloved fist wet with pre-cum, cracking his neck from side to side and growling through his lurid tale. You lay, fucked out, bound, a fascinated by how Kento's whiskey-rich voice could fill you with fumes, warm and drunk one minute, but cold and piercing the next. You swung, manoeuvred across his harsh dichotomy.

Kento loomed over you, trapping you beneath him again, blocking the light from your eyes, a bad moon rising. "You did this to me." He hissed, accusatory in his possession of you. "You started this sordid fight. But I'll finish it. No more fisting my cock at night just to the thought of you. No more dreaming about bending you to my will."

You felt Kento's tip press through your entrance, thick and insistent enough that you squirmed up the bed, crying out as he yanked you back, his hands closing around your waist. Kento plaited his fingers in your tied hands, the ghost of affection, and readying himself to slam into your quivering heat. He was falling apart, he could barely contain himself, overcome by the raw power of making you pliable, shaping you to his desires--

Kento whispered in your ear, his voice shaking, gravelly; "And when you submit...know that it was entirely your fault."

You felt your delicate petals forced aside, crying out to be filled to the brim by Kento in one slick thrust. Kento could barely suppress a roar beneath his mask, throwing his head back in ecstasy. His enormous hands cuffed your waist, making it squidge down against your hips every time he dragged your hips, moving your pussy around him like a cock sleeve.

Kento's strength made manhandling you look easy. You lay ruined beneath him, your head lolling against the inside of your own bound arm. The image of him unbuttoned, masked, gloved and still almost fully dressed above you, grunting and groaning as he used your pussy for his own pleasure, burned onto your retinas.

Kento barely moved his own hips, his eyes fixed feverishly on where he dragged your swollen pussy around the length of his cock, twitching and burning inside you. He couldn't contain himself. The hook behind his navel, all scorched steel and selfishness, beseeched him to drag his pleasure from you.

"Fucking-- ruin you-- never be satisfied...by another man again-- keep running from me, and I'll hunt you down...and take you like this every-- fucking-- time--"

As Kento's pleasure roared over him, he punctuated his thrusts against your belly with the written word in action. Making nothing more than jolted, pitiful moans as he fucked repeatedly against your sensitive cervix and soft-spot, you clambered for purchase, sobbing your pleasure as his gloved fingers rolled your clit between them.

Kento came with a string of curses, his thighs cramping beneath him with the force of it. Feeling his seed begin to pump and spurt into you, he dragged you aggressively to another orgasm with his leathered fingers. He had to feel you clench around him, sucking his seed deep inside you. He had just enough forethought to recall his final, toxic line as he gasped, groaning and bucking with the force of his ejaculation.

You could barely hear him through the fog of pleasure, faint in the distance; "If you have the nerve...to crawl back to me...full and swollen-- know we can be enemies in matrimony, as well as battle."

The room was hushed and dark, the gloom broken only by your mingled, heavy breaths, and the earthy smell of sex. You reached up pulling Kento's balaclava up and pressing a breathless little kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"...but...we still have to get a divorce. I just-- couldn't live with you knowing what I read--"

Kento laughed, his shoulders aching from the weight of the villain, slipping away with his gloves and mask.

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starlit-typewriter · 4 months

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Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 9

Here it is part 9!

Takes a peek at my writing doc. Yep uh, plot is beginning.

Also I've done the most recent Archon quest and uh, Wow.

I uh, didn't expect to cry that hard.

But very glad that my fic is still technically canon compliant. Literally counting down the versions till a lore drop breaks what I have built.

Warning for Spoilers up to Genshin Impact 4.6

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

~~~

Silver clouds float around lazily on a beautiful sparkling blue sky.

From beyond the billow of misted water, a spark shines.

It glows brighter.

And faster.

It shoots down towards the sky, breaking the sea of clouds, leaving a gaping hole from where it burst through.

The spark becomes a star, flickering from blue to a brilliant gold, leaving trails of light as it descends towards Teyvat.

As it approaches, it shrinks, becoming smaller, but no less powerful.

A targeted stream of light, of energy.

It approaches a city, a harbor.

You can feel the energy in the air, the hustle and bustle as humans galavant and frolic.

The sounds and smell of a festival, filled with raucous cheers and lively conversation.

The light ignores it all, heading straight towards a solitary figure.

A figure cloaked in brown and gold, strolling along the roads of this place.

A non human hiding in their midst.

They’re concealing their presence, but the light knows better.

It can feel their raw power and strength.

This is the one they were looking for.

It heads straight towards it, hitting their body with force, causing them to stumble in their tracks.

The light, no. The blessing burrows it’s way into this figure.

Mine

It purrs, settling inside their body, warming him from the inside, filling their body with power and energy.

All Mine

~~~

Your eyes snap open as you jerk out of your trance.

Morax was still sitting there, quietly.

Observing you with those eyes.

Those calm arrogant eyes.

You hate them, you hate them so much.

“Do you remember now,” he asks.

You clench your fist, fingernails digging into your skin.

You don’t want to believe him. On some level you still don’t.

However, you can’t deny that he has your power.

That he was gifted with your power.

Blessed

But you don’t know why.

The unfortunate truth, something that Morax no doubt knows, is that you don’t have all your memories.

Azhdaha’s sacrifice gave you some of your powers back, but it’s far from what you used to have.

You remember a time when you were powerful.

When you created mountains and oceans.

When you could create living beings with a single touch.

Well, not a single touch, but you could still do it.

You remember an era of peace, of dragons.

But it’s all gone.

Destroyed.

All because of them.

But you don’t know how.

You don’t know why.

The anger and grief wells up in your chest.

Your power responds accordingly, strumming under your skin, begging to be set free.

No,

You can’t.

Not now,

Not yet.

Later, you promise yourself.

Later, you will find out the truth and get your revenge.

~~~

“To the tales of the lyre, to the sweet dream of tonight!” A sweet melodious voice sang to the cheerful applause of the Angel’s Share patrons.

The teal figure bowed jauntily, waving his hat with a flourish.

Another successful night completed!

The bard in question skipped over to the bar, offering its red headed owner his most charming smile.

Alas his efforts were in vain as the Pyro wielder barely offered him a glance before going back to polishing glasses.

“Oh come on Master Diluc,” he weedled, offering his best puppy eyes. “Did my music not please your patrons ears, surely that deserves some complimentary beers”

“That’s exactly why I’m deducting some drinks from your tab,” He grumbled, “your unpaid tab, might I add.”

“In Angel’s Share I spend my time, in hopes of getting some dandelion wine,” he strummed, “Of varied notes, I sing so high, yet my sweet drink you so deny.”

“Let the bard drink,” Quinn cheered drunkenly, as did the rest of the tavern to Diluc’s chagrin.

The man tried to explain, only for the cheers and chants of the tavern to rise in volume, drowning his voice out.

Mondstatians and their alcohol.

The tavern owner turned around with the most unimpressed face known to mankind.

Venit would be intimidated, but unfortunately for Diluc, he is not a man and has seen much much more unimpressed faces over the years.

The two stared each other down, one smug and the other exasperated, all the while the tavern’s chanting rose.

With a defeated sigh, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt pours the bard a glass of dandelion wine.

The bard in question whoops in triumph. As does the rest of Angel’s Share as they celebrate his “Victory” with more drunken cheers and songs.

He knew the tavern owner wasn’t truly angry, exasperated and annoyed perhaps, but the man could never muster any real anger towards Venti.

A small bonus from him revealing his true identity of the Anemo Archon to him.

For all his tough words against the Knights of Favonious, he was still a Mondstatder through and through.

Whilst he did not have nearly as much presence in Mondstadt as the other nations did, and was proudly the weakest of them. The people of Mondstadt did not forget what he’s done for them and still recognize and worship him accordingly.

The wind spirit kicked his legs back and forth and he watched the redhead over the lip of his glass.

In terms of personality he really is nothing like his ancestor. Which makes sense of course, it’d be foolish to expect them to end up the same even though they have the same bloodline.

If anyone in Mondstadt were to have that title it would be the Acting Grandmaster.

Guiltily, he is glad that they differ.

To humans, gaining a vision is a great honor. Proof that their worth has been acknowledged by the gods.

He’s happy for them as well, whenever a Mondstater gains a vision.

But he won’t deny the seed of anxiety that sprouts in his heart as well.

Visions can make humans, gods among men.

But the world is made of more than just men.

Humans may be many but are comparatively weak in the grand scheme of things.

Although, having numbers is its own form of strength.

Perhaps he isn’t giving humans enough credit.

A lone human is weak, but a group of humans have a level of strength and fortitude that amazes even the gods.

He supposes that must be why the heavens protect them so.

Well, protect is a strong word.

They will do whatever it takes to ensure the continuation of humanity.

But they really won’t waste their time on individual humans.

Unless,

Well,

Visions are gifts for a reason.

Allogenes are rare, and are appropriately rewarded.

Not that visions are not a great boon.

He’s single handedly watched how visions save and change the lives of their wielders.

It’s simply what can come after.

It is extremely rare for an allogene to ascend to Celestia. That position is only reserved for the strongest of wills in all the lands.

Vanessa was one such will.

He knew it the moment he laid eyes on her.

Her burning passion and desire to protect her people.

How could she not gain a vision, how could she not ascend.

It was why he stuck around, stayed by her side.

Partially to ensure the safety of Mondstadt.

Partially to see if there’s anything he could do to save her.

Not that there’s anything he could do, or dare do.

Her will was extraordinary during her life.

It's just beyonf that, that is the issue.

The gaze of Celestia is particularly strict when it comes to cases such as these. Any attempts to defy destiny will be met with swift retribution.

Celestia does love its retribution.

Any hint of disloyalty, or protest will be swiftly squashed.

There was always a bitter irony in his position as Archon.

He was strong enough to protect his people from gods and monsters and other humans.

But not Celestia.

Not one was strong enough to fight against Celestia, even the creator of this land fell to their lies and trickery.

He has no idea what the Tsaritsa could possibly be planning to think they stand a chance.

Perhaps that’s why she’s moving so quickly.

In hopes of finishing her plans before the Heavenly Principles awaken.

He wished her luck on that front.

Even though he may not have the courage to do the same.

He just wished she was less aggressive about it.

Honestly, she didn’t even bother asking him before sending Rosalyn to attack him.

In front of his own church no less.

Honestly the audacity

Although, to be fair, without that audacity she probably wouldn’t have dared to try going against Celesta.

Her lack of contact with Celestia may have also played a role.

She is not a part of the original Seven after all.

Both he and Morax had visited Celestia firsthand upon their ascension to Archonhood.

It’s where they received their gnosis, their Archon robes and well.

Where they’ve seen the true capabilities of Celestia.

Witnessed the lengths they’re willing to go to to squash any resistance.

On that front he understood Baal’s reasoning behind the Vision Hunt Decree.

While she may not have gone to Celestia herself and witnessed what the original seven did. He had no doubt that her sister passed on some warning to her before her death.

It was smart.

If not ultimately misguided.

Sacrificing the few for the sake of the many.

Stifling a couple vision holders in exchange for the safety of her nation.

He understood the urge.

Disagreed with it, but understood it all the same.

The role of allogenes is essential to the survival of Teyvat.

Like it or not.

Without them, Teyvat would collapse.

Sacrificing the few for the many.

He despises it.

What Teyvat is built upon.

What it requires to function as it does now.

But he’s not strong enough to change any of it.

All he can do is wallow in the knowledge that Teyvat is-

The bard shakes his head vigorously to get rid of the path his thoughts are heading towards.

No,

Bad thoughts,

Not tonight,

Tonight is for fun.

Not,

Well.

Anyways, he’s getting maudlin, that’s no good for such a festive night.

He tips his glass back, emptying it of its contents.

The Dawn’s Winery quality is unparalleled.

As usual of course.

One of his pettier achievements to say the least.

When Morax announced his desire for Liyue to become the trading hub of Teyvat, and one of the most prosperous nations. Going on to monologue about how he will pave the way for business and prosperity using his contracts and all that blah blah blah.

Well, he couldn’t help but make fun of him about that, now could he.

Leading to Rex Lapis snapping back about how he can’t contribute anything to his nation beyond drunken songs.

Well jokes on him.

Mondstadt is now the nation of drunken songs.

The best in fact.

Sure it could be considered a waste of time to change the water in Mondstadt specifically so that it would be the best for wine brewing.

But the wine industry is now one of Mondstadt's main sources of revenue.

It was a calculated business decision and completely not related to the grumbling of some winemakers about having to purify the water multiple times to get a good yield.

A familiar presence approaches, the wind whispers.

Venti perks up as he hears a familiar set of footsteps approach.

“Tone deaf Bard,” an excitable voice exclaimed. “I knew he’d be here.”

The bard in question swiveled around in his seat to face the Traveler and Paimon, pasting a cheerful smile on his face.

“Traveler, we meet again, why don’t you sit down, we can share a drink or ten.”

The golden haired teen rolled their eyes at his, admittedly cheesy rhyme.

“I need your help with something,”

Their voice is serious.

In all honesty he hasn’t seen them this serious since what happened with Dvalin.

Venti took a quick peek over at Master Diluc, still serving other customers, great!.

He quickly slipped out of his seat and followed the Traveler out of the Angel’s Share.

Once they’ve reached an appropriately secluded spot, they turned to him.

Paimon and the Traveler exchange glances.

This must be pretty serious for even Paimon to sober up like that.

“Venti,” they ask, “We need to ask you and Dvalin a favor.”

Me, and Dvalin?

What could-

“The creator of Teyvat is back.”

~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

I was thinking of doing something special for part 10, haven't really decided but I'll keep you guys posted.

Thanks so much for your kind words of encouragement.

You guys are the only reason I've gotten this far in the story so far.

As always my askbox is open, for any questions, theories, etc etc

Taglist:@bunniotomia,@lucid-stories, @ymechi, @chocogi, @ra404, @ash1, @esthelily, @tottybear, @mmeatt, @quacking-simp, @reemthetheme, @universallyenthusiastsage, @resident-cryptid, @fantasyhopperhea, @thedevioussmirk, @etherisy, @naynayaa ,@mel-star636, @chericia, @aithane, @mmeatt, @xrosegorex, @amidst-the-tempest, @8-sinner-8, @reapersan, @elementalia ,@strangeygirl, @chaoticfivesworld, @scalyalpaca, @avalordream,@ranshin03, @vvyeislazzy, @wishicouldart, @raykayrei

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin cult au #my writing

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cannellee · 1 year

Note

May I make a comfort request with alpha baji and an omega reader who basically tries to go against their instinct nc they were raised in a household where they were shouted at, belittled and then ramen advantage of when they needed it the most. (During heat siblings would mess with them and fuck with their stuff and when darling got angry, they were ranted to fight and got their ass beat)

Sorry I'd it's a little specific, I'm just having a bad day right now and I guess I want comfort.

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ alpha! Baji x omega! Reader

— his reaction to an insecure & traumatised omega s/o.

tw : mention of domestic violence, psychological abuse...

(thank you for requesting🫶🏼, I really wish you get better and that everything's okay for you:( I hope you like it!! angst isn't what I'm best at so I hope it's still okay!)

my masterlist : ☆

you & baji met in a weird way, nobody would have assumed you would end up together.

baji was just so overwhelming, with strong pheromones, strong aura and a presence which subconsciously drew you to him.

and you were just an insecure omega, not as comfortable with your second gender as your counterparts were.

baji knew of your insecurities, that's why he always made sure to remind you of how perfect of an omega you were.

he would scent you every hour of the day, partly to claim you and keep away other alphas, but also to make it clear to you that you were loved. really loved.

coming into baji's life was the best thing to ever happen to you. you lacked so much confidence baji practically had to beg you to go out with him.

dozens of courting gifts were apparently not enough of a sign that he was clearly into you.

still, he was persistent and finally, you got your dream mate.

baji's the best alpha you could hope for. being aware of the way you were treated, he obviously did his best to make you feel safe and comfortable.

but there were days where your mood was worse than usual and baji just wasn't there at the right time to lift your mood up.

so here you were, gobbling up a fist full of pills to suppress your pheromones. your scent, as delicious as baji told you it was, disgusted you and you couldn't help but think about how your family would be way more satisfied if you got rid of it.

so you did. you also messed up your nest, destroying it and spreading the soft items baji precociously scented for you earlier this morning.

you curled up into yourself on your bed, hating your omega instincts for pleading you to get back into your nest, and cried yourself to sleep. it seems it's the only thing you're good for.

when baji came home and didn't immediately detect your strawberry scent, he knew something was wrong.

with his nose scrunched up and eyebrows frowning, he tried hard to smell you but he just couldn't.

when he called you and you didn't answer, he started to get anxious.

cautiously enters the living room and finds an empty bottle of pills, he paused for a second because those were pheromones suppressant your promised him to never use again.

those were bad for your health and baji thought he made sure to throw away all the remaining ones and lecture you to the importance of your well being.

he went to your bedroom, now more worried than ever and when he found you curled up in a ball and the end of the bed he thought he could feel his heart break.

baji quickly connects the dots when he cradles you in his arms and he doesn't even smell a thing coming from you. gently wakes you up and makes sure to let you know you're safe now.

he knows you're very vulnerable in this state, and although he's worried sick and a bit mad you neglected your health like that, he doesn't wish to alarm you any further.

although he can't sense any pheromones emanating from you, he just knows you're distressed and need his presence.

that's why he quickly reorganise your nest, scents everything he can and tucks you inside your poorly made shelter.

you're not fully conscious when his big arms hug your trembling frame, but his scent alone is enough of a relief that you don't even need to open your eyes.

he kisses you softly and makes sure you're as comfortable as one can be, covering you with blankets and letting your head rest against smooth pillows.

he soon spreads his own pheromones, making them sweeter than they normally are to appease you and pull your nose into the crook of his neck, where his scent is the strongest.

by the time you're fully awake, his presence calmed you down enough that you can completely look at him now.

his relief is visible by how his eyes soften when you give him an apologetic smile.

it pains baji to see his omega, the one he swore to protect, so weak and suffering.

he feels like a total failure, not good enough of an alpha for you.

later when you're doing better, he talks things out with you. make you promise once again to reach out to him, no matter when if you're feeling so terrible again.

if only baji could turn back time to shield you from all those people who hurt you, he would. his omega doesn't deserve the pain she's inflicting herself, both mentally and physically.

you're the best omega he could dream of, how could someone ever want to hurt you?

for now he needs to assure you it's totally fine being who you are ; yes you can surround the both of you with your oh so sweet smell, whine and complain about everything, let baji feed you and care for you.

he can be strong for the both of you, that's what he's good at<3

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satancopilotsmytardis · 2 months

Text

One to Start, Two to...

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by an anonymous user. It's been years since the League won the war and took over Japan. Years of them working to rebuild a government and ensure the future they always dreamed of stays in their grasp. And, maybe, Dabi and Tomura have been working a lot. Maybe they do need a break, but Dabi can still be a little annoyed that he's being shipped off on vacation by force. Fine. Whatever. At least his dom has a few very good ideas about how they can pass the time.

Contents: BDSM, TPE, sub training, coming on command, begging, overstimulation, praise kink, collars, clicker training, blowjobs, multiple orgasms, coming untouched, anal fingering, anal sex, cum as lube, creampie

Word Count: 7,785

Winning the war looked a lot less like a war, and a lot more like... a coupe. Dabi really hadn't expected that. But then again, he hadn't expected Shigaraki to come back to them mere hours after he was supposed to leave for his four month long treatment, holding the doctor's head in one hand, and demand that they start putting together a squad to bring him to Tartarus so that he could destroy it and his teacher inside in one fell swoop. They had talked him down from that while they figured out if whatever the doctor injected in him was going to do long-term damage, but thankfully, there were other medics in the PLF and they had gotten him snuck into a hospital and helped him to get fixed up. And when he was clear-headed again, Shig had told the League that Ujiko had been trying to groom him into being AFO's next body, and that he had felt his teacher starting to exert his influence on his mind when he started going into the suspended animation, and had rebelled against all of the drugs and shattered the tube before he could be completely sedated. He wanted AFO's real body killed so he wouldn't be able to make that transfer between them.

So they got him better, finished getting their troops ready, and they struck. Going for Tartarus first was not what anyone was expecting from them, and Dabi is glad that they had decided to act within days of Shig breaking away from AFO's control, because as they moved, it became clear that the heroes, led by the worst fucking spy Dabi had ever met, were deciding to mobilize as well while Shig wasn't around. So they hit their bases-- and left all of the public infrastructures open as the PLF was away, taking over the government, destroying the HPSC, and tearing down their agencies. And even without being a nomu, Shigaraki was so much more powerful with what little access he had to the All For One quirk, and after stealing Johnny's, it really didn't take much for them to be zapping around the country to get done what they needed to. Duster might have puked his guts out teleporting people everywhere while he was hanging on to Tartarus and making sure that everyone inside of the building, but especially his teacher, turned to dust, but it was more than effective in the end. He, Toga, and Jin had gone to the Tochō and had held everyone hostage as Dabi aired his video and put the public even more on their back-foot as he challenged his father to come to the building and fight him personally. He would kill him in front of the entire world.

And he did. Not without a hell of a fight. Not without getting badly burned. Not without thinking that he was gonna die. But he hadn't because Toga and Twice had been there in the immediate aftermath. He made a double of Dabi so that Toga could drink his blood, and then she'd given him a transfusion to keep him alive until Shigaraki was able to teleport him for medical care. And he'd been out for months in a tank of his own, not becoming a nomu, but getting healed as much as he could. And during those months, the fighting, apparently, was swift, decisive, and brutal. Shigaraki had all of the rest of the top ten gathered and he executed them one-by-one onstage, ending with Hawks who he burned instead of Decaying in Dabi's honor, since he knew that Dabi would have wanted to kill the double agent himself if he'd been able to.

That still didn't break the other heroes and those who still wanted to fight, but the PLF had people in every industry in Japan, and it was easy for them to continue to spread discontent, for them to find the families of the most staunch do-gooders, and bring them on-stage for execution next. And of course those heroes rushed in to save them. And of course, with their numbers, the nomu, Twice, and Shigaraki, they were able to capture their enemies. Duster was more merciful once the government caved after that, one he became king and he killed the heroes from America who were sent to try and stop him, and he just took every quirk that anyone who opposed him had. It had been a complete accident that he'd taken the brother quirk to One For All from the freckled kid Toga liked, but doing that had stabilized both quirks and made him all the more powerful, no nomuification necessary.

Dabi slept through all of that, and when he woke it was to the new king of Japan asleep with his head on the edge of Dabi's hospital bed, the country in transition to his power, and the realization that he was going to live to see it all.

That was five years ago. Four years of destroying any skirmishes that cropped up, changing the government structure, legislation, making Japan different. Theirs. It was four years of hard work and there wasn't really any way that would ever stop, running a country doesn't ever stop, the work just changes. But the changes now are aiming to make sure that there are systems in place that will hold up even when the League isn't around. They won't be forever, but they do want to ensure that the government they're building will outlive them. That means that they can't be the only ones in charge forever, and very slowly, they loosen their hold on the reigns in the hope that they didn't completely fuck this up the way so many of them have fucked up everything else in their lives. And over two months, six, ten, things don't fall apart. He and the rest of the League are still wary of assassination attempts, but Japan is... stable. It's alright, the world doesn't collapse.

And it's when they're finally letting up a little, Shigaraki asks to see him for something other than work. Dabi is so glad that Shig teleported them out of the palace without telling the others where they were going, because if they were anywhere in earshot when Shigaraki confessed to him and heard the absolutely indignant squeak that came out of him as he finally realized why Shig kept him as his right-hand man and went through so much trouble to keep him alive, he never would have lived it down. He also wouldn't have lived it down when he had stuttered out something about being flattered but not feeling the same way, only for Shigaraki to smile at him and tell him that he would, and then invite him to have dinner. He had been entirely sure things would be weird after that, that Shig would be annoyed, or hurt by the rejection, but he hadn't been. He had gone on with business as usual, but he had kept asking Dabi out on little 'dates'. And Dabi said 'no' a lot. He said it so often that Shigaraki had asked him why he was saying it. If he really didn't want to pursue any kind of romantic relationship with him, or if he was just saying it because he hadn't ever thought that he would live long enough to have those kinds of things. Dabi had set him on fire. Not like it hurt him anymore with so many quirks he's practically a god.

But that made him think, that made him eventually try to figure out what he was going to do outside of running the country, outside of his revenge now that he has it. It still took another month, Shigaraki not asking him about anything romantic anymore, before he had humiliated himself and gone to ask him out instead. Everything between them after that was a wildfire. Dabi was already well aware that he was big emotions, Shigaraki was too, and the two of them just saying 'fuck it' and going for them with abandon had been, well, a lot. It was all good, but it was certainly a lot. They got sunk deeply into the emotional side of things much faster than Dabi had even thought possible, and then the physical aspect had only gotten better and more and more... unconventional. Dabi is very glad that the rest of the world doesn't know about their relationship, that no one, not even Toga, will mention they're anything other than co-workers in front of mixed company, because he does not want anyone to put any scrutiny on the sudden addition of a dog collar that he's been wearing for a while now.

///

It's been four years, ten months, and eighteen days since anyone has started even the most meager uprising. Everything has been running smoothly and that means that he and Shigaraki are being forced to take a real break for a while. Shigaraki may be the king, but they have a council, and the council has a parliament. There are things that are being done and plenty of people who are working to ensure that nothing goes wrong, and the four years, ten months, and eighteen days of peace suggest that all of those systems are working successfully to that end. So he and Tomura are being forced to go off on vacation for–

"What do you mean two months?" Dabi barks at the rest of the League who are all standing a decent distance away just in case he decides to lob a fireball at them for the suggestion.

"You two are always working! You got married and didn't even stop! Go on your honeymoon!"

Dabi's face goes bright red under his scars, "We did not get married!"

Shigaraki clears his throat slightly and Dabi whips around to look at him, and his lover just scratches his neck lightly. It's not something that would draw anyone else's attention given how badly he used to tear at his skin, but he immediately connects the dots. Toga definitely asked Shig about the collar when Dabi started wearing it, and Duster must've told her that he didn't like rings because they got too hot and burned him from using his quirk. He knows that Shig is genuinely just waiting with baited breath for long enough to pass so he can actually propose to Dabi without getting lit on fire for doing it too soon, so telling Toga he gave him a 'necklace' instead of an engagement ring or wedding band must have seemed perfectly reasonable to him.

"I hate you all, you should have let me die."

"Don't say that," Mister titters, "And everything will be under control while you two are gone. Jin will be maintaining a set of doubles for public appearances and council meetings, so you two will always have your opinions heard during the discussions."

"You guys can go relax and be gross and we'll hold down the fort." Spinner adds.

Dabi opens his mouth to protest. Shigaraki is the king and he can't just leave for two months and hope nothing goes wrong. That would be insane-- Tomura's hand, still deadly, but only when he wants it to be, covers Dabi's mouth before he can protest further. "We appreciate your hard work and trust that you'll call us if you need us."

"You got it, my king." Toga teases.

"Behave yourselves while we're gone."

"Sure thing! Don't tell me what to do! You're not my real dad!"

Tomura huffs softly and teleports them out of the palace, only taking his hand away from his mouth when the liquid for the quirk needs to come out.

///

Duster, evidently, already packed things up that he wanted to bring with them for the time, and the house they end up at is beautiful. It's a lavish, airy villa on top of a seaside cliff with a big kitchen and a serine sunroom, and Dabi promptly ignores Shigaraki immediately for kidnapping him, but it's very hard to stay angry after a full day in the house, far away from everyone else, no work that they have to do, no constant struggle to survive. He stops ignoring Shig after a day, but he actually relaxes and realizes that he can breathe again after three. He can breathe and the morning of the fourth day he curls up against Tomura's chest and asks,

"What are we gonna do today, Sir?"

That earns him a soft smile and his lover's hand cupping his cheek. "I think that we should start training you properly for when we're alone. Wouldn't it be nice if you didn't have to think about anything besides being good for me when we're not working?"

"Yes, Sir." Just the fleeting thought of it is enough to have his mind going soupy. He didn't really have romantic relationships before Tomura, and the handful of sexual encounters he got into always were fast, rough, and he was usually the one in charge because he didn't trust other people to not fuck up his delicate scars. But it's different with Tomura and Dabi loves being his sub. They've talked plenty before about eventually having a 24/7 Total Power Exchange dynamic. But things were too hectic at home for either of them to feel like that wouldn't be asking for something to go wrong and drop one or both of them. But... two months alone like this? There really isn't a better place for it.

Tomura gives him a kiss and Dabi melts. He can do whatever Sir asks. He'll prove that he's a perfect sub.

///

Dabi is given new rules as they start his training. He speaks when spoken to, he kneels unless he's invited to sit on furniture with his dom, he does the domestic chores, and Tomura is in charge of his schedule completely. This is training to be a slave, but Tomura does use a clicker from their petplay to help to reinforce the rules. A year ago Dabi would have thought this treatment would be beyond degrading. But now, he follows all of the rules readily. He likes kneeling on the floor at Tomura's feet. Sir got him a special cushion, he lets him rest his head against his knee, and when he's being very good, Tomura strokes his hair while they sit too. There's also a... not significant amount of weight that is taken off of his shoulders with Sir planning his every activity throughout the day. He was so lost outside of work when he came back from the dead for the second time. He kept thinking that he needed to push himself training at all hours, but he trained enough. He beat Enji, he's maintaining his strength and health even better now that he's not on the run, he didn't need to keep trying to break himself with the work to just feel like he was worthy of living. And all of this is made easier to cope with when Tomura takes charge and tells him how to live.

Tomura has gotten him a big water bottle that has the measurements on the side and that pings his phone so that he can see how much water he's actually getting. He helps him to pick out meals that are balanced and will keep them both healthy after the absolute mess their diets had been up until they took over the country. He makes sure that Dabi is stretching, applying the medicine to his skin, and keeping track of how much sleep that he's getting. And whenever he's being good, Tomura clicks the little clicker and Dabi immediately perks up like a dog because each little click means,

"There, you did such a good job making sure you drank enough today. My good boy, and good boys get rewards." 'Rewards' range from actual presents, to getting special treatment in bed, and Dabi's body always goes warmer whenever the other clicks the toy.

But he gets much, much warmer tonight when Tomura tells him that and then threads his hand through Dabi's hair, coaxing him lower. It is a reward to get to lick and kiss over the bulge in Sir's pants, his head going foggy at even just the first suggestion of getting to fill his mouth. “Manners, baby.”

“Please let me suck your cock, Sir.” It’s so easy to remember his manners and plead. It makes Sir happy, and that makes the reward even sweeter.

“Very good, precious.”

Tomura lets him open his pants and Dabi does his best not to drool too much as he moves his mouth over his cock. One of Tomura's hands goes to his hair and he strokes and pets through the locks as Dabi kneels on his special cushion and starts to feed his cock between his lips. He never gets tired of having his lover's cock in his mouth. It fills him, and the weight of him on his tongue helps him to feel like he's being rooted in the pleasure that pulses through him over being useful for Sir. He always likes to be useful and to make him feel good, and he loves that Tomura takes his pleasure from this, all the while knowing that it's one of the things they do that makes him so hot as well. He hasn't even gotten the other in his throat before his own cock starts to harden.

Dabi swirls his tongue over the other's head, making sure that he rolls his stud over his slit, using the little ball to press in teasingly like a pearl sound, before he sucks at the skin. Tomura pets him, humming softly in the back of his throat with his satisfaction, which only serves to make Dabi feel even warmer as he continues to move. This is his reward which means that he can take things at whatever pace he wants to. But with his own building arousal, Dabi can only find it in him to take it slow for a little while. He wants to make it good and he can't be patient for that. So he sinks his lover's cock deeper into his mouth and starts to suck and swallow around him more deliberately.

"Greedy boy," the words drip with Tomura's satisfaction and Dabi does his best to stay focused and not reach a hand to stroke at his own cock, hard and leaking in his pants as he's able to be a good boy, even if he is being a greedy one too. He is allowed to be greedy right now. He's being rewarded. He feeds the other's cock into his throat and feels it stretch to accommodate him, looking up to see his lover's dark, satisfied eyes as he gives the first full swallow around his length. Worth everything that it took to get them here to have Tomura's cock in his throat and red eyes looking at him like he's worth more than his whole kingdom. Dabi whines, desperate to get more of that, desperate to prove how good and perfect he can be, and his lover smiles at him as he strokes his hair. "It's alright, baby, you can be greedy. Just means that I get to spoil you even more."

Dabi likes the way that sounds, so he takes whatever he can. He opens his throat eagerly and he tries to swallow him up as much as he can. He lets his lips stretch and ache with the way the other is in his throat, he lets himself moan and whine around the movements, not just to give him those pleasant vibrations, but also to let Sir hear how much he likes it, how hot it's making him to get to suck him off. And when he starts to taste his pre on the back of his tongue, Dabi starts to shift a little from how hard he is too, his arousal so pressing that he's making a wet spot on his pants. But he's not allowed to touch himself without permission, and Tomura is still being gentle and hasn't tangled his hand in Dabi's hair and pulled him in tight to fuck his face like he's nothing but a toy, which means he's not able to find his orgasm at the same time as his lover as he sinks him deep into his throat and spills there, his cock twitching against his tongue. Dabi swallows away his cum and stays warming his cock and trembling with his own need until Sir strokes his hair and says,

"Perfect, firefly. Let me see."

He only pulls off then, letting Sir tuck himself away as he leans back and opens up his own pants, stained from how badly he's leaking, and once he's exposed, he forces himself to put his hands back flat against his thighs.

"You're getting so well-trained, baby boy." The praise immediately makes him whimper as another bead of precum drips from his head. "Alright, you can touch yourself now. But you can't cum until I give you permission."

"Thank you, Sir." It's torture to gather the slickness from his cock and use that to touch himself, his skin already hot with his quirk and nerves so sensitive that he's worried that even just the first stroke is going to do him in. But he holds on, stroking along his length, unable to stop the moans and whines that are coming out of him as he does.

"You're already so wet, sweetheart." Tomura teases. "Always get so wet just from having a cock in your pretty mouth."

"Yes, Sir." He agrees breathlessly. He is so hot now that he can't help the trickle of smoke leaking out from his cheeks.

"I'm going to let you cum soon, baby. All you have to do is wait for me to click twice, and then you can. Okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

Tomura still makes him hold on for another few minutes, desperation building and building, to the point that as soon as he hears the double clicks, it doesn't even take a full stroke before he's cumming all over his hand and staining his clothes even worse. Not that he cares. He's too busy trembling through the waves of pleasure that are going through him, only heightened even more when Tomura easily pulls him up from the floor, sits him in his lap, and sinks his cock inside of him to fuck him straight through to a second orgasm before he can even fully make sense of what's going on. He's so hazy with it, Dabi doesn't even notice that the clicker gets used again before he cums for the second time.

///

Dabi gets so used to his training that Tomura has to start training him to have time where he will likely have work and not be able to be around Tomura for stretches of time when they go home. He manages to make this work by assigning Dabi a few hours of 'free time' a day where he has to go somewhere else in the house and entertain himself for that period. Dabi usually uses that time to read or scroll on his phone to see how things are outside of their little vacation. They may not be directly involved with things for the time being, but he wants to know what things look like with them gone. There is a sharp spark of pride in him that things are... getting better. There was a lot of mess when they first took over and there is still so much that has to be maintained to ensure that an entire country stays on the right track, but it's working. They don't seem to be seconds away from a coup at any second. Things are okay. And that only helps Dabi to relax even more.

He didn't really have hobbies outside of stalking his father's hero career, so he asked Tomura to pick something out for him to learn, and after a few days, his lover comes back with a set of paints and a paper block that can be separated into individual sheets when he's finished with it. He doesn't know if he has an artistic bone in his body and says as much, but Duster just presses a kiss to his temple and asks him to give it a try, paint whatever he wants, the sea, people, something made up, what he's feeling, whatever. Just try for a few days and if he doesn't like it, he can find something else to do. Dabi realizes then that this must be some kind of bullshit therapy thing that the other wants him to try. They got a therapist for Jin after everything to help him get his head on a little straighter, and it has been... helping. He thinks Toga has started seeing someone too. Dabi doesn't want to use this to get out the echoes of his trauma, so he pulls up painting tutorials on his phone and he starts with an apple. The pad of paper had twenty sheets, and in two days he painted twenty apples. He paints them until he thinks he gets how to layer the paint, how the colors blend, where the contrast is supposed to go. They're not good, and Dabi orders more materials, different paints, still acrylic, but with a retarder so that he can have more time to control how they blend, a pallet, and brushes that aren't going to disintegrate as they're used. Dabi doesn't know why he is putting so much effort in, but he can't bring himself to stop once he's started.

It's during his 'free time', painting in the sunroom that he's claimed as his makeshift studio, when his lover comes into the room. Dabi immediately starts to set the brush aside, thinking that he's somehow managed to stay for too long and not abide by the rest of his schedule, but his lover pauses him easily. "You're fine, pretty boy." He says as he sits down on one of the benches lining the room, "I just wanted to get some sun too. Keep working, you're doing such a good job, firefly."

He's more than happy to have the company as he works, but a fresh jolt of pleasure goes through his body as the other sits, pairing the praise with a little click. It makes his skin a little warmer and Dabi tries to focus. It's not playtime right now, he's supposed to be a good boy and try to enjoy the project he's working on. "Thank you, Sir."

Tomura smiles at him and Dabi tries to turn his attention back to the painting as his lover taps away at the game on his phone. He doesn't think that he's going to be good at painting by the time they go back home, but he... doesn't hate it. It's nice to have something to learn that isn't going to be life or death. He isn't going to have their new government fall apart if he makes a mistake, he isn't going to lose the most important fight in his life if he does this wrong. He can play with the paint on the wood boards he's gotten, feeling it move underneath knives and brushes. He can try things, hate them, and try again. That is nice. There is something... soothing in the action, though he certainly won't be telling Tomura that.

"You've gotten so much better in such a short amount of time, firefly. You really can do anything you set your mind to, can't you?" He clicks again as he gives him the praise and Dabi shivers slightly despite his temperature creeping up a little more.

"I try, Sir."

"I know, baby. It makes me so proud of you." He clicks again and Dabi bites his lip as his body seems to think that it's time for them to play. It's not though, and when he turns to look at Sir, he's paying attention to his phone again, just idly fiddling with the clicker in his other hand. Dabi isn't allowed to ask to play or for rewards throughout the day. He only gets what Sir says that he's earned. He doesn't want to get in trouble for asking for anything more. So he goes back to painting.

The heat is still under his skin as he works, and he reaches for his water bottle, trying to cool down with the icy water from inside. But when he takes the straw out of his mouth, the other man tells him, "Good job making sure you're getting your water in today, precious." And he clicks the toy.

Dabi barely manages a, "Thank you, Sir." Again as he tries his best not to squirm as he feels not just heat, but genuine arousal starting to prickle his veins. It's so silly. He's not even being touched, the praise is not more than Tomura normally gives him during their play. It shouldn't be making him so hot, but it is making his skin prickle with need as he tries to focus on playing with the light and shadow in the painting. But it's so hard to focus on anything when he's wondering how good he will have to be for the rest of the day to get Sir to reward him tonight. He always earns a reward in some capacity, he always behaves himself, but he doesn't always get to be fucked hard or with rougher play. Those he really has to earn. And if he's getting this hot just from a little praise, he probably needs the harder play to make himself feel more satisfied.

He tries to keep working, but Tomura keeps chiming in with little things. "You look so pretty in the light", "I'm so glad that we're here together", "You're everything that I want for the future, firefly", and he click, click, clicks with the device each time that he does. He clicks, and Dabi's whole body gets hotter, until he feels like he's suffocating in his thin t-shirt and sweats. Until he feels like his skin is itching with the need to be touched and his cock is, humiliatingly, starting to stir in his pants. He bites at his lip and tries so hard to focus, but he can't quite hide how his hand is starting to tremble around the brush when he tries to bring it back to the board.

"What's wrong, beautiful? Am I making you nervous?"

"N-no, Sir." He nearly winces as he stutters.

"Are you lying to me, precious?" Tomura's voice is gently neutral, and Dabi knows he's going to be punished one way or another anyway, so he sets the brush down in the dirty water cup and half turns to face him, his face burning as his shame goes so hot. "Oh, baby boy, look at that," Dabi keeps his head down, expecting to be reprimanded for being such a needy slut he couldn't even wait until tonight-- "You're doing such a good job with your training. Working even faster than I thought it would."

Dabi's mind goes unhelpfully blank as he looks up. Tomura is smiling at him, smug and amused as he clicks again to accompany the praise. Brought him here, set out the rules, started using the clicker. Every time he did well, he got his reward, either physical or praise and the reward always came with a click of the device. It was easy to do well when the rewards made him feel so good.

"I wonder how well-behaved you can be for me." Tomura says. "Why don't you show me? Let me see all of your pretty skin, firefly."

Dabi's arousal and humiliation both sit under his skin, and the former pushes him up from the chair so that he can pull off his shirt and peel his pants down his legs. Stripping his clothes only makes the arousal even worse, his body now thinking that he is absolutely going to be getting a physical reward even as Dabi isn't sure about that. This is a different kind of training and game than he thought that they were playing, he doesn't know what to think of this one.

"There, absolutely stunning, precious. I love how the light dances over your skin, and you're doing such a good job of following orders. I'm so proud of you." He clicks the toy again and Dabi whimpers as his cock swells a little more without even being touched. That has Tomura's eyes going even hotter on him. "Come here, baby."

He crosses the room in an instant, ready to get touches, kisses, to have the other's cock inside of him wherever he can get it, it doesn't matter. He just knows he needs something as he goes so warm. But Tomura doesn't let him kiss, doesn't let him touch when he gets close enough. He catches Dabi around his hips and turns him around before pulling him down into his lap. Dabi presses his back against his chest, tilting his head too so that he can nose up along his neck, wanting to get his mouth on the other's skin.

"Patience, firefly." Tomura commands, one hand moving to curl over Dabi's thigh. Even just that steadying touch has Dabi moaning as he tries to grind back to feel if Tomura's cock is hardening yet. "I want to see your training at work." Dabi thought he was already showing that just by getting so hot from the praise and clicker alone. But he tries to be good to earn more of it. "What are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"Warm, Sir."

"Yeah?"

Dabi manages a weak nod. "Like you've been touching me all over. Want you to touch me, Sir."

"I've barely touched you yet." He traces the fingers up his thigh even more lightly. "Tell me what you want, and I'll think about your reward, precious."

"Want you to touch my cock," he begs, knowing that he won't get it at all if he's not specific. Tomura hums, tilting his head so that he can press soft kisses along the side of Dabi's neck and over his shoulder. "W-want Sir's cock inside. Want you to make me feel good and fill me up, please." Sir puts his hand over Dabi's stomach and Dabi does his best not to whine when he does, having thought the shifting touch meant that he was going to get his hand where he wanted it.

"You're being such a good boy following my orders." Tomura tells him, pairing the praise with another click and Dabi can't help moaning as his cock twitches like he was touched. Oh god, he really has been trained like a dog, hasn't he? That embarrassment only makes him feel even hotter and Dabi finds himself trembling in the other's lap. "Such a good boy, always listening to me so well." The amusement is dripping off of Tomura's tongue as he rubs his thumb over his seam. "So responsive and ready to do whatever you're told as long as I'm promising that it will feel good in the end, isn't that right?"

"Yes, Sir," he croaks.

"I'm going to make you feel good, baby. You've proved that you're absolutely perfect. You've more than earned a reward, and I'm not even going to have to touch your pretty cock to give you one." He promises. "I'm just going to tell you how lovely you are dripping like that, so needy for anything that you can get with just a click of a button--" he clicks again and Dabi gasps. The device might as well be a dial that he's ratcheting higher and higher on his arousal with every time he clicks it. He's getting warmer, wetter as pre beads and drips along his length.

"Sir," he whines.

"What? Does it not feel good? Aren't you having fun, precious? I know how much you like it when I give you all of my attention and make your body do whatever I tell it to. It's going to be so nice to have you trained so well. You already do everything you're told, but I'm going to enjoy being able to click a button and watch as you start to tremble and moan as your cute cock strains your pants. I wonder if I'll even need to use words after a little while." He hums. "Maybe I'll be able to just click," he does it again and Dabi moans. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it's all in his head, he knows it's all just in his head, but it doesn't matter. It's still making him hotter as the other does it. It's making him ache from how hard he is now. "And you'll get so hot that you drop to your knees in front of everyone just to get more. Maybe," he clicks again and Dabi twists in his lap, not sure if he's trying to get away or get closer to the other and the agony of arousal burning in his veins. "I'll get to show everyone else what a well-trained pet you are now as you writhe without a touch, and cum like that just from the memory of all the times I've had my hands on you."

There's no way that he would be able to-- Tomura kisses his shoulder, holds the clicker high enough so that Dabi can see it, and he gives it two pushes in quick succession. There is a split second where Dabi hears those double clicks and remembers all of the times in the past month that his lover has clicked the toy like that every time Dabi came. Embarrassed indignance surges through him for a split second-- but that is all he has time for before his head is back against Sir's shoulder and he's crying out as his orgasm pulses through him and stripes cum up over his stomach without a single touch against his cock.

Dabi is gasping for breath, trying to find enough of it so that he can curse out his lover for training him like a dog instead of a sub, but he doesn't get the chance, Tomura's hand is going to his stomach again, gathering his cum and then shifting him in his lap so that he can use it to open him up. He jolts, his nerves all sharply oversensitive from how quickly that touch comes after his orgasm, but Tomura is kissing his cheek and murmuring, "See? Such a good boy. Absolutely perfect." He clicks once and Dabi yelps as a sharper pang of arousal hits his nerves. No. Surely not-- "And I know you're going to keep being perfect for me." He rubs his fingers over him again and then starts to press one inside.

Dabi's body opens eagerly for the touch. He's always eager for his lover's touch, and he figures out how to get his knees on the bench on either side of Sir's legs so that he can lift himself a bit from his lap, using the leverage to help the digits go deeper and stroke against his prostate. And he gets rewarded for every movement he makes to try and have more as he feels Sir's cock so hard against him. Little clicks when he rubs against his prostate,

“Ah! S-Sir, please” his nerves are stinging with how sharp the arousal is in the wake of his orgasm. That sensation only gets worse as his body forces him hard again so fast hearing every click of reward that is made. He doesn't know the last time he felt so overwhelmed by Tomura in bed that he thought he might set fire to them both, but he's very glad they're in the sunroom right now because the open windows are letting the smoke spill out from inside of the walls. He is opened so easily, so fully, and Dabi doesn't remember to be annoyed about the clicker because he is being hardwired to hear every click and know that he's getting more pleasure, a bigger reward.

"What do you want, precious?" His voice lower and rough with his own arousal and Dabi wants–

"Your cock, please, please, please! Please, Sir, please fill me up with your cock. I need it, please, Sir! I'll be good!"

Tomura's lips curl up into the ghost of a smile and he pumps three fingers into Dabi's body again just to hear him keen before he murmurs, "You are, listening to all of the rules, making sure you're behaving. You can't ever be anything but my good boy, sweetheart." But he doesn't click until his fingers have pulled out of Dabi's body and the head of his cock is pressing in instead. He does his best to not lower himself onto him immediately, not having gotten permission for that, but he can't help whining desperately as he waits to get more.

Tomura lets him lower himself by inches, and only then wraps a hand around his waist so that he can still control how quickly Dabi pushes himself back up. He decides where his weight sits and how much of an angle they are at. Sir decides what's best for him. And he's right to put Dabi at the hard pace that he settles on, using his strength to help bring Dabi down into his lap at a steady rhythm, but one that is hard enough that he might have bruises on the backs of his thighs before he's finished. He doesn't care. He'd happily tear himself open if it meant that he could keep feeling the stretch of his cock inside and every sharp spark of pleasure that races over his nerves each time he's lowered again. He still hasn't been given a single touch against his dick, and he knows that he's not going to need it. He is already melting from how good it feels to be fucked like this, a hand on him would just bring him to his completion embarrassingly quickly despite already having been spent, each fresh movement making his body painfully aware of how soon it is to have so much in the wake of his first orgasm.

He still doesn't manage to hold on long as Tomura kisses at his neck, one arm around his middle to keep him moving at the pace he wants, and the other hand bringing the clicker in front of his face. Dabi whimpers, shaking his head weakly. He knows his lover can’t be close yet and if he cums again now, the oversensitivity will only get worse as he’s fucked through until he’s ready to spill. "What's wrong, baby boy? Don't you want to feel good? Aren't you excited to get rewarded for your good behavior?"

But he can't contradict Sir. Can't talk back or disobey the rules unless he's using a safe word, and the embarrassment in him isn't the kind of discomfort that would beg him to do that. "Yes, Sir." He croaks again.

"Good, and you're going to prove it in one," he fucks up into his body a little harder, a little faster, "Two," and his fingers across his side press into the sensitive seam of his scars to put fresh fireworks behind his eyes, "Three." He clicks the device twice and Dabi's balls draw tight as they spill a more modest splash of cum over his stomach as he's brought over the edge again, undeniably, by that sound. His hole clenches tighter around Sir's cock as his whole body tenses with his orgasm, and then melts into a warm, satisfied goo that makes it so hard for him to try to keep moving against him. It doesn't matter though, Sir is strong enough to keep him doing what he wants, and he brings his body up and down on his length for several minutes, until Dabi is thrashing weakly and sobbing from how over-sensitive his hole is, before he slams his down and fills him up to the brim with his cum.

Dabi feels dizzy as he lays back against his lover's chest with cum smeared all over his skin. It takes a while for him to catch his breath and remember how to think, but he does eventually turn his face into Tomura's neck and mumble, "Can I talk, Sir?" He's to speak when spoken to and he's supposed to be sweet and submissive when they're playing.

"Of course you can, firefly." But Tomura never makes him hold that if he has something that he really wants to say. He may love to be completely in control of Dabi and love to sculpt him to his will, but he doesn't actually want to make Dabi something that he's not.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" He snaps with as much vitriol as he can manage. Tomura immediately lets out a burst of laughter as he encircles him with both arms as he kisses the top of his head.

"But it's working so well--"

"Too well! Do you know how much Compress fiddles with his pens during meetings?! I'm going to be in a puddle of cum at the end of them if you clicker train me for that!" If anything that only makes his lover laugh a little harder. "You can't use a clicker!"

"Alright, alright. We'll switch to something else. I don't want you to end up getting so needy for anyone else." Tomura kisses his cheek too. "But you liked it otherwise?"

Dabi's face gets even hotter. "... You're such a perverted freak."

"Dabi." There is warning in his tone now. He is supposed to be honest about what he likes and doesn't like when it comes to these things.

"... I like it when you make me perfect for you."

That earns him a hand on his chin, turning him back so that Sir can kiss his lips slowly and deeply. He rests their foreheads together when they part and murmurs, "You're already perfect for me, firefly. Now we're just modding."

He's a fucking nerd, Dabi thinks with warmth inside of his chest. He's a nerdy gamer, the person who tore down hero society in Japan, the king, and the person that Dabi is happy to give himself up to completely. They're rebuilding everything so that it fits with the world they wanted to see. He doesn't think he should be surprised that his lover is having fun teasing and adjusting him throughout their play to get Dabi acting the way he wants as well. And if it's going to be things like this that bring him so much ecstasy, Dabi is certainly not going to complain.

Thanks for reading!

#shigadabi #my writing #mha fanfiction #fanfiction

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toomanythoughts2 · 17 days

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Murderface reads to me as someone who would have a battle jacket.

Like, his vest he wears everywhere, even as a kid, gives me battle jacket vibes. But because he had like no money growing up, the only patches he could get were from shitty bands that he didn't really like for either really cheap or by stealing them. He also can't sew, so he would either beg his grandma to do it or use safety pins. But it was a hot mess with patches, buttons, and layered fabric. Just all over the place.

But once he got into Dethklok, something he had to do was get rid of the patches/buttons/fabric because it was advertising other bands, and they couldn't do that. It's the one time he actually listened to Charles and Nathan about something pertaining to the band. So for years, he went without adoring anything on his jacket, but he still collected patches/buttons/fabric from concerts they did go to. Especially once he was able to actually go see bands he loved and got their merch, he was all over their merch table.

He would dream of how to configure the best-looking battle jacket in the world. But he still wasn't allowed to wear one because it's advertising. So, years go by, and Murderface's dream of creating the best battle jacket fades away. Until Toki picks it back up. Toki had always wanted one of his own, but his inexperience and fear of being made fun of stops him. But he collects all kinds of things that he loves and will even collect patches for Murderface. Toki knows they can't have battle jackets, so he makes them in secret. They're crudly made, but they have a lot of soul put into them.

Somehow, Murderface finds Toki making one. And Toki is afraid that Murderface is gonna make fun of him or that he's gonna get in trouble with the band, but he does neither. Murderface tells him that it's looks off balanced and to switch the patches around to make it flow more coherently. And that's when Toki realizes that he could use Murderface. They have a talk, and Toki hears all of Murderface’s love for his jackets and how his dream is to make the best one. So Toki suggests that he make them anyway, and that Toki will help him. Charles and Nathan just said you couldn't wear them, not not make them.

So Murderface starts constructing battle jacket after battle jacket with Toki, using all of his collected pieces. Toki sees this as an arts and crafts club and loves spending time with Murderface making jackets. Murderface helps construct the pieces together while Toki sews or pins the pieces. Toki even learns how to put in metal studs or spikes.

The band realizes that they've been spending a lot of time together and find out that they've been making jackets together. Soon enough, it's a group activity. Pickles brings out some of his old battle jackets of when he was younger. Skwisgaar shows the band pictures of different variations of his early jackets that were destroyed sometime in his childhood. Nathan brings in his own collection of patches/buttons/fabrics to make his own. Nathan has choice paralysis though so the band has to help him map out the jacket. It's the most coherent the band has been in a long time, working on making their own jackets. Charles is shocked the next time he sees them when he realizes that he got through an actual productive meeting.

Bonus: The band makes Charles a battle jacket out of the leftover scraps and patches and buttons to show their appreciation for his hard work. Charles accepts it then shows the band his own jacket he made decades ago from his closet.

#metalocalypse #toki wartooth #william murderface #they care about each other #LET THEM BOND #OVER THE LOVE OF THE MUSIC #skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #charles offdensen

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causewayguy · 7 months

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'Pleaseeeeee, tell me where Jie Jie keep my Switchhh! 🥺🥺🥺'

Jon's sister in law, Kelly, has been bugging him the entire morning. His wife has had it with Kelly's gaming addiction and took away her console. Before she left for a work conference abroad, Jon's wife smiled sweetly at Jon and said 'If Kelly gets to have her fun, you won't get your fun when I get back next week ya'. That's wifey material for you...

That's why Jon die die didn't give into Kelly's begging. But it's no easy task... It was a week since he had sex with his wife because of Kelly, who started staying over after her graduation. Making things worse, Kelly is forever in a flimsy top and boy shorts. Jon has been in marikita state for too long without any proper release (tfk don't count guys).

'No way sia, don't sabo me. If your sister knows I let you play, next week I can order coffin liao'

'Next week??!? Walao can la kor! You give me play now then I confirm finish before she come back. Please laaa, qiu qiu ni! I will do anything, really anything at alllll! Pleaseeee'

Kelly clinged onto Jon like a panda, her boobs squeezing his arms like two pillows. Jon felt something stirring in his pants as he stared down at the heavenly sight of his SIL. Kelly continued begging Jon for a minute, continuously rubbing her nubile body on his. So this is what heaven is like... Before he lost his mind and do something he regretted, Jon relented and revealed his wife's hiding place. Kelly screamed in delight, hugged and kissed Jon before running to get the Switch.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief as Kelly did not feel his 6 inch hard rod poking her. He quickly went to take a cold shower before heading to the gym to calm things down and increase the distance between him and this temptation of SIL.

It was late afternoon when Jon returned home, thinking all his pent up energy was released in the gym. Lo and behold, Kelly was laying flat on the living room couch. The sight of her milky body in black top and white panties immediately shot Jon's cock to attention harder than before.

After the Switch ran out of battery and she couldn't find the charger, Kelly dozed off on the sofa, dreaming of Pokemons and gym battles. A shadow fell over her face which woke her up. Rubbing her eyes, she is still rather drowsy when she saw a tall dark figure in front of her. Kelly slid her hand into Jon’s pants and felt a long leatherly bulge, growing bigger and bigger.

'An Arbok! Finally! I want to catch you!'

Kelly tried to hold Jon’s cock down with her tiny hands but also letting it slipped through her fingers. The harder she tugged, the bigger and angrier it gets. Suddenly, Kelly pulled down Jon’s shorts. 'I have destroyed your defense! Now I use mouth-ball!'

Jon groaned loudly as Kelly gave a surprise BJ. At first, she slowly savoured Jon’s cock, taking her time to lick, kiss and suck on it. She sucked on the tip and did a few quick bobs. Kelly’s tongue constantly flicked across the bottom of Jon’s cock, making it tighter and wetter for him. Jon moaned out in satisfaction and stepped back a step. Unwilling to let go, Kelly kneeled and crawled closer to Jon with his cock still in her mouth.

'You are not escaping that easily! Quick attack!'

Being at the perfect height kneeling down, Kelly launched her gawk gawk 3000. Every thrust made Jon’s cock hit the back of her throat, and Kelly started to gag. Saliva was starting to pool around Kelly’s lips and dripped down to her blouse. The hall was filled with the erotic squishy sounds with loud slurping and chocking sounds. Jon almost lost it there. Even his wife’s best BJ skill could not hold against what her sister’s mouth is doing to his cock now. Quickly, Jon pushed Kelly back onto the sofa and stepped towards her.

‘Arbok seemed to have used harden and, shit, preparing for a body slammmmmm ah ahh aahh!!!’

Jon pulled Kelly’s panties aside and started slamming his rock hard cock into her. This was his dream. He was fucking his sister-in-law, out in the open living room with the curtains all open. Most importantly, he was fucking her raw! Unprotected sex with a fresh college grad! It has been awhile since Jon felt such warmth and tightness engulfing his cock. The harder he thrusted into Kelly, the tighter and wetter she got. The lewd sounds echoed across the hall as the both of them made all kinds of moaning, mewing and cursing.

Kelly was not a virgin, but her last experience was loooong time ago. Hence, when Jon’s 6 inch penetrated her, she cummed. The feeling of hot meat brushing against her pussy wall, going deep inside her was so sensual and mind blowing. And when Jon did not stop his hard fucking as she came, the pleasure doubled as her pussy was more sensitive. Ever thrust was met with Kelly’s ‘Ahh!’ and ‘uhh!’, only stopping when they frenched.

As they were on missionary, Jon has complete control over Kelly. Her hands were grasping at the smooth sofa but has not grip on it. Jon took over and held both Kelly’s arms in front of her top, squeezing her perfect melons together. This caused Kelly’s boob to bounce even harder with the hard fuck Kelly was getting. Jon salivated at the sight of him ravaging his sister-in-law, her body being trashed in whichever direction he wanted.

One hand grabbing her arms and another squeezing her boob, Jon felt the familiar tugging sensation in his balls. Instead of slamming his entire weight onto her, Jon thrusted with speed and precision, making sure his entire length was continuously going in and out of Kelly. Feeling the difference, Kelly seemed to understand the situation and held onto Jon’s waist tightly with her legs. She even felt his cock getting bigger inside her and she whimpered at Jon, nodding her head at Jon, willing him to do it.

‘Give! Me! Your! Ar-fuckkkk!’

At the last moment, Jon squeezed his core and completely unleashed himself inside Kelly. He felt his every ejaculation, when his cum exited with force and completely drenched Kelly’s pussy, every squeezing by Kelly’s tight, warm pussy. He shot at least 5 times before relaxing into Kelly’s arm. After several rounds of orgasm, Kelly had only a minor one when Jon finished inside of her. It was the feeling of Jon’s cum shooting deep inside her that made her felt full and truly fucked that she came for the last time. They both were in total bliss for at least a minute, breathing into each other’s ears.

‘Kor~ *huff* I captured your Arbok *puff* Later can I try your Onyx…? *rubs* I want to catch them all before Jie comes home...'

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actual-changeling · 1 year

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no i am not done with the breakup scene yet. it haunts me during the day and it haunts my dreams, soon i will be able to replay it in my head on command. today's obsession: tell me you said no

firstly, i think it's important to point out just how deep the miscommunication runs here. aziraphale is excited, outright giddy about the news he is delivering, and he expects crowley to be just as happy about them.

after all, he thinks he is giving crowley what he has always wanted - they can go off together, he can be an angel again, which to zira equals being on the good side. the side of *light*. he remembers crowley's creation, remembers how in awe and happy he was with it, and thinks that is what he is offering.

aziraphale's expressions during this scene are probably gonna be their own post, but long story short he switches between excited and confused like a broken light switch, unable to decide which one to settle on.

crowley, well, crowley is angry. angry and confused and completely caught off guard because aziraphale is shaking the very foundation of what crowley currently thinks to be their relationship. the horror dawns on him pretty early, but he tries to fight it off, tries to convince himself that no, aziraphale wouldn't. he wouldn't agree to that, he KNOWS me. he knows i don't want to go back, he knows both sides are equally bad.

tell me you said no. tell me i wasn't wrong about you, about us. tell me i didn't misjudge our entire relationship. tell me the last millennia were worth something, anything.

tell me you said no.

if you rewatch the scene, you will notice that crowley never breaks eye contact, he stares aziraphale down the entire time. unless it was literally blink and you will miss it, i am pretty sure he does not even blink. not once. aziraphale on the other hand is looking everywhere but at him, his gaze flicks around just as much as his expression. crowley tries again, one last time. tells him you know they will both destroy this planet, humanity, us. it doesn't matter which side wins, the result will be the same. we KNOW that. we SAW that. we stopped it from happening.

aziraphale does not answer.

he does not have to. crowley can read him well enough to know exactly what he responded, and even if he couldn't - he knew from the beginning. he just cannot believe the answer. he still can't.

it's one of his fatal flaws, isn't it, believing in aziraphale and in them against every rule and threat the universe throws at them.

now to get to the part that breaks my heart.

crowley repeats himself again, not breaking eye contact while aziraphale tries to avoid his gaze.

tell me you said no.

he still hopes. after that entire conversation, he still hopes.

when the silence stays unbroken he steps towards him, asking one. last. time.

angel tell me you said no.

this. this frame. this is when the realization hits him full force, the truth he has been trying to talk and rationalize his way out of. he has been begging aziraphale to tell him that he did not betray him, them.

everything he has been fighting for the last six thousand years, all the thoughts telling him he is worth less than aziraphale because he fell, because he is a demon, evil, on the wrong side. everything he has been unlearning, accepting that he can be kind, he can be good. accepting that aziraphale cares about him, fuck, maybe even loves him.

crowley thought aziraphale is the one being that sees him, truly sees him, which is why he offers himself without his glasses - his last layer of protection.

he betrayed us. he has never been with me, we have never been on our side, not when he chooses heaven over the fragile, peaceful existence they have carved out for themselves. he took care of the bookshop, allowed zira to take his bentley, cleaned up and tidied and prepared it for his return, for the both of them. just to get all of it thrown into his face, to have it degraded as not good enough. to have HIMSELF degraded as not good enough.

and after all that. after that realization, the pain, the break in what he thought was their reality.

after aziraphale telling him that he plans on leaving earth and wants crowley to be someone he is.

crowley swallows his tears and he steps back, keeps his glasses off and continues with his confession anyway. his voice breaks several times throughout it, he is on the verge of crying. i will probably make a separate post about all that but once again, tldr he suppresses tears throughout his entire speech.

i want to spend eternity with you and he cannot say it because he knows he would break on eternity and start crying. somehow, crowley still hopes that maybe this will change his mind, this will make him realize that he needs to stay here, stay with me.

crowley hopes and hopes and hopes and aziraphale finally meets his gaze and all he responds is nothing lasts forever.

no, i don't suppose it does.

still, what is left but to keep hoping that maybe one day, they will be an us, even if it isn't forever. even if it's just one day, one kiss, one second of being held and kissed back.

crowley keeps hoping and that, to me, is the most painful part of it all.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #good omens meta #this got so much longer than i intended for it to be rip #i feel like it is important to mention that these posts are not planned in the slightest #i look at some screencaps experience emotions and then write a stream of consciousness #i hope it has enough of a red thread that people can follow though #any spelling mistakes and the like are because i do not proof read my tumblr posts #you get my unfiltered brain vomit

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talaok · 2 years

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Forgotten love

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Summary: just a blurb about Joel realizing he loves you.

warnings: none just fluff

Forgetting is easy,

They say that when you haven't felt something in a long time you will think you never did.

And Joel, well Joel never thought of himself as someone capable of forgetting,

partially, because it was true, he didn't, there were things that had happened to him, things so deep and painful that had scarred him forever, a constant buzz in his every day, that he was never gonna forget.

Not a second of them.

because he didn't want to,

the pain,

the rage,

as awful as they were,

they were all he had left,

if not the foggy glimpses he'd recall of his dreams,

if not the broken watch on his wrist,

if not the distant sound of Sarah's laugh.

He didn't forget,

He didn't let go,

He didn't forgive, not himself, not the world

because he was scared,

scared that if he did, if he did let go of the pain, if he did attempt, at least, to open, to try, really try, then he would lose the mere scraps he still had, the ones he had guarded and protected with everything he could.

But there was one thing Joel hadn't realized, or maybe he had, but decided that it would have only been fair,

and that was, that guarding those scaps, those little sharp fragments, he had yes, saved them, preserved them, and hid them from the world for only him to see, him to relish,

but he had also lost,

he had saved pieces of others, of his past, and traded them with ones of himself,

of his future,

of his present.

Because protecting for him meant not taking any risks, and to someone like Joel, to someone who'd seen as many things as he had,

everything was a risk,

one he wasn't willing to take,

if it meant losing the glimpses, the scraps,

the ashes.

But now, something was happening inside of him, a sort of rebellion of his own mind, of his own soul, both fighting, fighting to wake him up, to shake him and let him see, really see,

that what had happened,

what he had done,

what he remembers,

isn't all he can be,

isn't all he can allow himself to have,

to live.

And he was terrified, his heart had been beating faster and faster as the realization hit him slowly,

the culmination that he, perhaps, wasn't gonna be able to stop this, to prevent this from happening, because maybe, for once, he didn't want to.

"When you haven't felt something in a long time you will think you never did"

He had spent so much time fighting to not forget the pain, the misery, that he had forgotten the good,

because all that old happiness, that joy, was bitter now on his tongue, undeserved, just a reminder of what he had, and could never have again,

and so he had chosen to let it fall behind, purposely never letting himself look back at it,

because for some reason,

it hurt more than the pain, the real, raw pain of losing someone, of losing everyone,

because the pain was easy,

the pain was good,

he knew pain,

it had been with him his whole life,

but the happiness?

He didn't know her

It scared him, terrified even,

because it was stronger, more powerful, more venomous,

It had made him discover what life could have been like, how good it could be, just to disappear, leaving a black hole inside of him,

one he had decided to fill with pain,

because at least that had never failed him,

pain was predictable,

always the same,

but joy was a demon wrapped in silk,

beautiful of course,

but a much more dangerous creature.

But as much as he had averted it, it still found a way to creep back into his life,

because of you.

And so now, as he stared at your peacefully sleeping self, your face only lit by the moon's glow emanating through his window,

he was scared,

because you had done it,

as much as he had begged and made it hard,

you had destroyed the barriers,

destroyed everything,

until nothing was left, if not him, only him, and the scraps he took with him.

he felt naked in front of you,

because he knew you could understand everything, see everything.

But most of all,

he felt happy.

A happiness, he was undeserving of, one he was sure he'd never meet again, one that for the first time in years, made him feel less empty, filling the black hole in his stomach not with bad, but with something that could only be defined with one simple, frightening word,

Love

Love was what he'd forgotten about,

love was fear,

Love was risk

Love was you,

And as he smiled into the air,

he found himself wondering if surrendering was all left for him to do,

surrender to love,

surrender to fear,

surrender to you.

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cobrabobra · 2 years

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"Dick"

Carl Grimes x male!reader

This is part two to "Asshole", I didn't plan for it to have a second part but since there was a request I decided to come up with something, english isn't my first language so I apologize for any mistakes, contains description of masturbation and oral sex and alcohol usage, I've never wrote something like this before but I've tried my best so I hope you enjoy

Carl's once again found himself frustrated and of course it was because of (Y/N), again.

Grimes believed that the kiss will change everything, that they'll get closer, maybe start dating. That everything he'd dreamed of would come true.

Not only that did not happen, it made things worse, (Y/N) acted like nothing happened, like that kiss was nothing to him, but it was everything to Carl. It was supposed to help him find out something about his sexuality, which it didn't, but he didn't have time to think about it now, it only made things worse. It made things awkward between them, the other boy seemed unfazed, but Carl tried to insinuate that he'd like another kiss or maybe even more and when nothing happened, neither of them knew how to act around each other. They used to talk on walkies all night, sometimes they didn't even talk, they just sat there, in their own rooms and found comfort in the fact that there was someone on the other end, but know they didn't talk. That used to hang out together all the time, joke around, play video games at Anderson's house, go on runs together, now it was all gone. Carl hated himself for destroying their friendship, because he did, he destroyed everything. He made a mistake telling him about his feelings that day, he made a mistake thinking that something would change. It was all his fault. He should just accept the fact that nothing will ever happen between them and move on, try to fix their relationship, but he couldn't bring himself to. He still imagined what would it be like if their relationship became a romantic one, how they would go on walks and hold hands, hide behind the corners and kiss so Ron wouldn't see and yell at them, how they could... How that could be intimate with each other. He imagined how (Y/N)'s body would look like, they saw each other shirtless a couple of times but that's it.

"Fuck" he sighed, feeling the heat in his abdomen at the thought of the other boy's body. He couldn't help it, he was a stupid teenager, he was horny all the time, especially now, after he tasted his crush's soft lips.

He started to undo his pants, remembering how it felt to have those sweet lips against his. How good he smelled, how beautiful his eyes were, looking into his, how fluffy his hair were.

It drove him on the edge, he slid his hand into his boxers and hesitatiantly grabbed his cock, like it was his first time doing this.

He felt a blush creep on his cheeks as he imagined that (Y/N) was sitting between his legs, that it was him stroking Carl's cock.

How would he do it? Would it be fast, trying to make him come fast, wanting to see Grimes panting, bucking his hips into his hand? Would it be slow, teasing, wanting Carl to beg him to go faster? Would he say that he's handsome, that he looks good like this, that he sounds good, moaning and desperate to cum?

It didn't matter, it would've been perfect any way, because (Y/N) was perfect, everything he did was perfect.

Carl, he'd pant, getting aroused himself, Carl, he'd say his name and it'd sound so good, Carl...

"Carl!" it was real, (Y/N) was standing outside, throwing rocks to get his attention.

"Fuck!" he whispered, tucking himself back into his pants, trying to make himself look presentable.

He opened the window, his palms sweaty, his heart beating fast. What if he'll find out? What if he'll find find out Carl was masturbating while imagining him being the one doing this to him?

"Finally, I thought you were ignoring me" Anderson sighed as he crawled inside.

"I was just sleeping" the brown haired boy lied quickly. Last thing he wanted was for (Y/N) to think Carl's mad at him, at he's ignoring him, that he's the one who fucked up.

"With the lights on?" he chuckled, he knew that his friend was lying, hiding something and he wasn't going to push to get Grimes to tell him what he was doing. If he didn't want to tell then he'll respect that. He smiled when he saw that the other boy's face got red, it's cute when he gets shy.

"I- um" he tried to think of something to say but embarrassement got better of him.

"I got something" (Y/N) put his backpack on the floor and took out a wine bottle. The same bottle he found when they kissed.

They sat on Carl's bed and opened the alcohol. Of course this would end well, they've drunk together before and Anderson always ended up wasted. Of course it was fun, seeing him like this, loosened up, giggling every five seconds, hugging Grimes every chance he got. But with Carl being heartbroken, he wasn't sure it was a great idea, no, he knew it wasn't.

And who would've guessed, half an hour has passed and they were tipsy, half of the wine was gone and they talked like nothing ever happened. Though Carl wanted to kiss him again and blame it on the alcohol, he could get the thought out of his head.

Oh no, no, no, no, he thought when he felt himself getting hard in his pants, he didn't finish earlier, he was pent up and his crush was laying on a bed before him, his shirt slightly rolled up, his stomach showing, of course this would happen.

"And then I- Carl, are you even listening?" (Y/N) got up, sitting supporting himself with his hands to not fall on the bed again. His beautiful, clever eyes studied his friends face.

"Yes, I'm listening"

"Don't lie to me, you suck at lying. Tell me what's wrong" he got closer, much closer than he wanted to, their noses almost touching, their breaths mixing.

"It's nothing, really"

"Like you not knowing if you liked boys nothing?" he was irritated. He didn't mean to start this topic, not when he was drunk, but Carl was acting weird for a while and they needed to talk about it.

There was a moment of silence, silence full of frustration, anger and pain, before (Y/N) grabbed Grimes' chin and made him look into his eyes.

"What's going on with you Carl?" this time he didn't sound mad, he sounded sad, his eyes soft as he looked at his friend. He wanted to help him, fuck he wanted to help him so bad, but how can he do that when Carl didn't tell him anything?

"I don't want to say" lies, he wanted to say, he wanted to scream in his face how much he loved him, how much he desired him, how much he needed him.

"You absolute asshole! Can't you see I'm worried about you?!"

"I'm the asshole?! It's you who doesn't see anything!"

"Because you don't show me!"

"I show you every day and you just push me away!"

"I don't push you away! You're the one who's pushing me away!"

"I'm not!"

At this point they were both standing up, anger and desperation flowing through their veins as they yelled at each other, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time with each word they said.

"I'm sorry I fucking kissed you, okay?! I only wanted to help! I'm sorry okay? I'm fucking sorry" he started to cry, he could help it anymore, it was too much, too much being in the shadows, not knowing what's going on, too much of feeling guilty that he destroyed their relationship that day.

"I'm not" Carl said softly, he should've felt bad for making his friend cry but he felt better than he felt in ages, (Y/N) crying showed him how much the boy cared about him.

With his heart pounding like crazy in his chest, voices in his head telling him not to do this, his rational side clouded by the alcohol, he kissed his best friend.

Last time it felt rushed, hungry, now it started slow, like they wanted to burn the shape of each other's lips in their minds. This sweet kiss quickly became as hungry as their first one, but it was different this time, this time they both were sure that the other one wanted this, that it wasn't a joke, it wasn't just to find something out. They wanted this kiss, just as badly as they wanted each other.

"Carl" (Y/N) whispered when their lips separated, his hands clutched on the other boy's shirt.

"Don't talk, just let me- just- please" Grimes was practically begging. He knew as soon as this moment've passed it would all be gone, that it would become even more awkward between them and he didn't want that. He wanted this moment to last forever, to feel the boys lips on his, to taste him.

"I'm not going anywhere" Anderson said and in a moment of courage, he lead Carl's hand to his pants. He made Carl feel how hard he was for him, how badly he wanted him, this.

"You're drunk, you don't know what your doing" he wanted to step back, he needed to, before he did something stupid.

"The only thing I'm drunk on is you. Believe me, that kiss really helped me sober up"

And this is all Grimes needed, to know that this was mutual. He kissed him again, even more harshly than before, their saliva mixed and so did their scents.

They found themselves on the bed, Carl's hands struggling with his zipper, his hands shaking with stress and lust. He finally managed to get out of his pants only to find (Y/N) looking at him, like he was a beautiful painting.

"You're not-?" his brows furrowed. Oh fuck, what if he got ahead of himself? What if he didn't want this after all?

"I'm not drunk, but I'm still tipsy. I don't want to have my first time like this" he said smiling cutely, even though his eyes shimmered with desire. "But we can do this" he said as he put his hands on the outline of Carl's cock.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to, so fucking bad, Carl"

He felt those soft, swollen lips on his abdomen, kissing every freckle they found. His fingers slipped under the band of Grimes' boxers and slowly pulled them down.

"Mmh-" he moaned and closed his eyes when he felt (Y/N) kiss the tip of his cock. "Fuck" he bit his lips to stop himself from making too much noise, he didn't want his dad walking in on them and he wanted to hear the wet sounds that the other boy's lips made as his mouth moved, licking a stripe down his shaft. "Yeah, like that" he grabbed Anderson's hair and moved his head a little.

His toes curled as he felt himself get closer, he never felt so good in his life, he didn't know what felt better, (Y/N) actually reciprocating his feelings or him sucking on the tip of his dick.

This was heaven, he felt so good, he could practically high five God himself.

"Doing so good, fuck" he moaned as he felt more and more of his cock dissapear inside of (Y/N)'s hot, wet mouth. "So, so good"

He never wanted this to end, this feeling of being touched by another person, by his loved one. He felt tears running down his face, all he could hear in his head was a voice telling him that this was finally happening, that their friendship was indeed destroyed and from it's ashes something new, something beautiful emerged like a phoenix.

This was all too much, too much pleasure, too much happiness, he could stop himself, his fingers still tangled in (Y/N)'s hair, his head bobbing in a fast pace, his tight throat clenching down on Carl's cock, it was all too much.

"Carl is everything-" he stopped when he realized that he was crying, he thought he might've done something wrong and he definitely didn't expect for the boy to cum right on his face.

Grimes still moved his hips for a while, muttering something under his breath, sense of relief coming down on him.

When he finally came down from his high he looked down, just to see his friend's, or whatever the fuck they now were, face covered in his release.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, just, next time warn me before you cum on my face, you dick" he chuckled.

He probably would've laughed too if it weren't for those two words that overtook Carl's mind. Next time.

#carl grimes x male reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes smut #twd x reader #male reader

488 notes · View notes

smakonca · 15 days

Note

Soooo? Uhm, first of all you have a really cool design for Nightmare…..wait what was I doing- oh yeah! Right! Do you have like a specific story interpretation of the DreamTale incident/Apple incident or Headcanons for it? If so what are they? Have a good timezone!

Thank u!

Yes, yes I actually do.

First of all, it's probably worth starting with the fact that I don't distinguish a passive Nightmare from its destroyed version. For me, Nightmare is one complete character. Broken by his anger, resentment and hatred.

For me, the apple incident is not a one-day event that instantly made Nightmare spiteful towards Dream and everyone else. His corruption lasted for years. So did his hatred. It couldn't have appeared literally in one day.

Nightmare has been rejected by society all his life. All his life he has received only hatred and contempt. That's why he grew up like this. He became withdrawn, unfriendly and venomous even to those who treated him well. I don't think all the villagers in Dreamtale were terrible. Just because Nightmare was used to being treated terribly, he began to reject any support and attention. Just because he didn't trust anyone else.

As time went on, he became as angry, greedy and envious as the society in which he grew up. He began to argue with Dream more often. And avoided him as much as he tried. And I think that by the time of the apple incident, they were already in some kind of quarrel. Which only pushed Nightmare to prove that he is just as good if not better than Dream.

I don't think Dream was blind and ignored what the villagers were doing to his brother. He was a child. He didn't know what to do. He was naive and tried to solve the problem peacefully. To try and make everyone apologize to each other. However, none of the parties wanted to take the first step. Not the villagers nor Nightmare.

Then, of course, the plot goes according to the canon. However, Nightmare did not intentionally kill the villagers of Dreamtale. At least those who attacked him. It came out spontaneously, as he still did not know how to control his abilities yet and was absorbed by all the negative emotions that had accumulated in his soul.

You know, like in that African saying. "A child who has not been warmed by the village, will burn it to the ground to feel its warmth".

Dream, seeing how his brother, covered in blood, towered over the corpses, was in utter horror and shock. He didn't want to fight back then, but there was only one thought in his head.

To protect.

He felt that this was his duty. Holding a golden staff in his hands, he stood against Night.

It made Nightmare extremely angry. After all he's been through. The humiliation, the pain, the resentment, the loneliness. And his brother doesn't take his side anyway. Of course, he was furious and got overwhelmed by his anger and attacked Dream.

And the brothers confronted each other in battle. You already know the end. Dream turned into a stone.

And here I don't really like the scenario that Nightmare just leaves Dreamtale and never comes back. I think as soon as Dream turned into stone, Nightmare immediately regretted what he had done to the only person who truly loved and believed in him.

I think Nightmare made numerous attempts to find a way to bring his brother back to life, tried everything. He talked to him, mourned for him, asked for his forgiveness, begging him to come back. But nothing was working.

However, as the years passed, Nightmare’s soul hardened. He began trying to find more and more excuses for the accident of which he was guilty. Excuses for his burning hatred. With every year his memory faded a little. Nightmare came back to his brother’s statue less and less.

He began to explore the worlds. Other Universes. And study each one with passion. He began to absorb the vices of monsters and humans. And even getting acquainted with them.

No one out there knew anything about him anyway. No one knew about his pathetic past. They only knew that he was strong and incredibly dangerous.

I think that's how Nightmare began to feed on negative emotions. First, by visiting purely negative worlds. And soon after he grew an interest in changing the course of the history of other AUs in order to turn them to the dark side.

He began to revel in his own power and the opportunity to play with other people's lives. You bet, he did! He was no longer a vulnerable child, unable to stand up for himself. He was a monster. The very thing people believed him to be.

Nightmare at this point considered himself almost a god and an omniscient being, whose abilities and intelligence are beyond the comprehension of ordinary mortals.

I think at some point his hatred reached its limit. And he returned to Dreamtale only to kill the remaining inhabitants and destroy the offerings they had left for Dream. Putting an end to this chapter of his life for himself. (as he initially thought).

He decided that at all costs he would make the world respect him. Fear him.

But when Dream got out of the stone, Nightmare's plan went wrong.

For the first time in hundreds of years, brothers met again. And they fought again.

After all, Nightmare understood that Dream would never allow him to gain domination over the Multiverse. And Dream, because his memory loss after many years in stone, initially thought that his brother died a long time ago. At first, he even refused to believe that this bloodthirsty and purely evil creature could be his brother. But even when he put up with this fact, he didn't give up hope. Maybe his brother will come back one day.

Personally, I like to think that it took another hundred or two years for Nightmare and Dream to come to terms with the current situation in the world and form some kind of truce. Where everyone has a certain number of universes under their patronage. Because both Dream and Nightmare will die without feeding on positive/negative feelings.

I also like to think that each of them has a certain number of allies across AUs, who provide them with information about other Universes and help maintain balance.

For example, Nightmare has a certain number of kings and rulers under his patronage, whom he helped ascend to the throne, as well as Multiverse bandits or murderers ravaging the worlds. He did this in exchange for the fact that they would arrange tyranny in the worlds where it was needed, supporting him and providing sources of negativity for him.

And in fact, Dream can't do anything 'cause technically speaking, a tyrant, ruling over his world and making it full of negativity and pain, is an unfortunate combination of circumstances, and not the work of Nightmare.

Dream's situation is similar. The fact that somewhere in the worlds the situation suddenly changed from conditionally bad to good is not always his doing. Sometimes it's just the way things are. Which sometimes is very convenient.

Oh don't get me started with AUs which have different endings or are dependent on players' decisions. This Universes are even harder to control. Or help them. Or corrupt.

I honestly don't really like it when people make a saint without a single flaw out of Dream. Yes, he is kind, merciful and resolute. But sometimes he acts solely out of his own interests.

For me, for example, it has always been a question, why does Dream protect only positive worlds? Yes, they give him strength and he is obliged to protect bright feelings. And he could not stay for long in negative worlds. However, don't other universes deserve his salvation? Can't he give them good things too?

Makes him a bit of a hypocrite, don't you think? He chooses to bring hope only to those universes that are easiest to help. Which I don't really like, to be honest.

In my headcanon he and Nightmare have formed a small alliance to keep the balance in the Multiverse. No matter what anyone says, I just like this concept. Our world has always been and will always be ambiguous. Just like conditional good and evil.

Of course, this does not justify Nightmare’s actions in any way. In the end, everything he does is hard to call "virtuous".

However, both he and Dream realize that they are unable to win. For time being they are playing some kind of mind games, trying to take control over different AUs.

Also bear in mind he fact that Universes are constantly being created and destroyed. Therefore, both Dream and Nightmare try to protect the sources of emotions closest to themselves. But the situation is different for both of them.

Dream, who is unable to help everyone and is forced to enter into unprofitable alliances with Nightmare, often blames himself for not being good enough. No matter how much he tries to help, there will always be those who want to take advantage of his kindness. It's hard for him to get used to the idea that sometimes you need to be rude and tough in order to be able to defend your ideals. For which, by the way, in many Universes he does not have the best reputation. Many blame him for still not being able to defeat Nightmare. It all falls heavily on him and sometimes makes him give up.

Nightmare who lived for a long time tries to find stability in everything. He rarely has random outbursts of anger and hate. He learned to control them. He learned how to manipulate others in order to get what he wants. He is smart when it comes to persuading people or forming alliances.

The image of Nightmare is very special to me. He's my favorite. However, not his canon version, but a certain image that I have created for myself.

I like to think that Nightmare is ambivalent, like the dark side of the moon, which he is desperately trying to hide.

He is proud and narcissistic, hates when someone restricts his freedom, but at the same time hates himself for the mistakes of the past.

He justifies his bloodthirstiness, saying that the world made me like this. But deep down he understands that he is the one to blame for everything that happened.

He dresses glamorously, hides behind the status of a king, treating everyone around him as his pawns. At the same time, he is weak and is in constant chronic pain.

He considers bright feelings and any manifestation of them as a weakness. But at the same time, he himself experiences them in relation to his subordinates.

He is smart and cunning, but his knowledge of the world is limited by his own interests. He doesn't understand simple things. Such as sincerity and care. These are strange concepts for him.

He considers himself omnipotent and omniscient. He loves solitude, but at the same time he wants at least someone to feel his pain.

He says he hates Dream. Constantly tries to mess with him, to make him suffer. But deep down inside, he misses him madly, because he knows that Dream is the only one who still has not lost hope and believes in his redemption.

He longs for love. Simple and sincere. He desperately wants someone to be with him. But he understands that no one in their right mind can love him.

My Nightmare is made of contradictions. He's a pathetic hypocrite. Remove his mask and you will find a lonely broken creature behind it.

That's who Nightmare is to me. He can get better, he can try to let go of the past and start helping people. But he won't. Because he lacks fortitude. He is afraid to go down the same road as he did in his childhood.

Dream and Nightmare have always been and will always be opposites in all aspects.

Dream is soft on the outside, but his soul is strong and noble. Nightmare seems hard and inaccessible, but inside he fears everyone and unsure of himself and his abilities.

Dream has found support and care. Nightmare has found pain and disappointment.

Dream is in pain, but knows that those around him do not deserve it and will fight for it. Nightmare is also suffering, but blames everyone else for his pain except himself. And he enjoys the suffering of others while hiding his own insecurity and hatred towards himself.

They will always be like that. Like Yin and Yang. Like night and day. Like life and death. Like… Well, you get the idea.

While I was writing it, this picture literally appeared in my head. So them actually.

Now my favorite part.

The design.

I came up with the design for Nightmare about two years ago. I've been drawing him like this ever since. The reason is stupid and simple. My love for the dark gothic vampire aesthetic, so Nightmare is dressed like a dark vampire lord or something.

I have problems with his canon design. And it seems a little strange to me that his color palette changed very abruptly after the apple incident.

Dream has a good design. Bright yellow and orange are attractive and symbolize hope he brings. The green details in the form of straps symbolize life. And the black suit under his clothes is like the pain he hides behind a bright image. You can cast an eye on Dream and immediately understand who he is. His palette tells us a little story about him. He looks like a real archer, who is quite fragile, but fast and agile. Its design serves as an element of the narrative, and I love when creators do it.

And Nightmare... Eh. I do not know why he began to look like an ordinary Sans doused with oil.

This, in my opinion, unfortunately kills his tragic story completely. I heard somewhere that he looks like this to blend in with his surroundings. And if he goes to make a massacre in another universe, everyone will blame Sans, not him. This is very strange, because, firstly, I am not sure that all AUs have a Sans as such.

And secondly, seriously? Would you confuse your acquaintance/friend with a goo with tentacles? I don't find it believable.

Thirdly, he has the opportunity to transform into anyone. Why would he pretend to be Sans, if he could become a random unknown monster, kill everyone and flee. And trick everyone, so that even according to the description of that poor AU survivors, Dream could not understand that it was actually his brother.

So my Nightmare is a little different. Purple is still his primary color. After all, it is the color of mystery, power and pride. As you know, many royal figures have worn it, which highlights the image of Nightmare as a king. He also wears a huge coat, whose long sleeves to match his vectors. And the heels. Of course he wears them. Also I headcanon that he intentionally makes himself taller. So as to look down on everyone else. Silver plaques are the opposite of Dream's golden tiara.

I really want to think that my design for Nightmare reflects his character at least a little. When you look at him, you could say, yes, he looks like royalty. Yes, he looks stately. Yes, he looks both mesmerizing and intimidating.

He needs to evoke horror mixed with reverence, respect and admiration.

P. S. This took me a couple of hours to write. I apologize for any mistakes I could have made.

#dreamtale #dreamtale au #nightmare sans #dream sans #anon ask #ask smakonca

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leclerqueensainz · 10 months

Text

A Family of Three (C.L 16)

Part. III - Heroes, Princess and Fewawi.

⚠️ Warnings: Distress (Charles is very sad talking about losing someone he loves), mention of maternal abandonment, issues with parents, and postpartum depression, among other triggers. However, there is also a cute interaction with Vincenzo for the first time, so that's a step forward.

Enjoy the reading!

P.S.: This is entirely based on Charles's point of view.

Word Count: 4,332.

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April 19, 2019 - Monte Carlo, Monaco.

When my father died a few years ago, I thought I would be prepared for any loss I would have endure later on. I anticipated losing other people, of which I had no doubt, but I swore that nothing could shake me as much as losing my hero.

When I lied to him about securing the Ferrari contract because it was his dream, and I wanted him to rest in peace, knowing that we had achieved it, that all the effort he had put into my future had been worthwhile, I thought nothing else could hurt as much as knowing he would never have the opportunity to see me don a red racing suit and drive a Scuderia car.

When I was given permission to drive the car carrying his casket, and I drove through the city so my father could bid a final farewell to the place he lived and loved for so long before taking him to the cemetery, I thought nothing could destroy my heart and burn every cell of my body as much as that did.

I was wrong.

But I should have known better. I should have understood that no pain would be enough to call someone's soul.

The news reached me two days ago on Monday when I was still in Shanghai after a race. Marie, my ex-girlfriend, called me in the middle of the night, and I couldn't fathom why she was calling me when we hadn't spoken in six months since the breakup.

My heart had raced before answering the phone, and a thousand thoughts crossed my mind—whether she was drunk and missing me or if she dialed accidentally. If she just wanted to talk because she had a bad day and Jules didn't answer when she called. I could expect anything and think of any possibility, but never these words. "Jules is dead." That's what she said right after my hello. There were no tears, no pauses. Just a broken and lifeless voice. A dead and cold voice.

Marie hadn't called because she was drunk or had a bad day and had no one else to talk to. It wasn't nostalgia for the six months we had been apart. It wasn't to tell me she loved me, as I had dreamed so many times before.

Marie called because our best friend, my godfather, was dead. No tears, no pauses. Just shock. It was direct. It was terrifying.

I wanted to know what she was talking about because Jules had left after the race, and he was fine. He was happy with the position and wanted to return to Nice to celebrate with the family. She didn't answer me. And I wondered if she had a baby or if it was a playful way to start a conversation with an ex-boyfriend. But she didn't laugh like I knew she would if she were joking. Then I felt it. The silence that told the truth. I had lost Jules, too.

So I shouted into the phone, said it wasn't funny, I was late, and I didn't want to participate in that cruel game. Denial. "Come to Monaco, Charles." She said and hung up.

I never wanted to have answered. I never wanted to pack hastily, wake up Pierre, and tell him we had lost him. I didn't want to arrive in Monaco and see the faces of my brothers and my mother painted with grief again. "I'm so sorry, my love." That's what my mother said when I fell to my knees and allowed myself to cry in front of my family as she hugged me. "It will be okay." That's what Lorenzo said. But we both knew it wouldn't.

I thought I wouldn't feel the sense of helplessness and bitterness when putting on a black suit again. I thought grief would be something I could handle. But it wasn't.

I begged anything that existed not to take anything else from me. I couldn't bear to make the same journey to that church because of another funeral. And I didn't want the experience of that shadow that left me shattered again.

I didn't want to overcome another loss; I didn't want to wonder why the pain didn't pass and didn't seem enough. I didn't want to try to understand or hear people saying that he would be in a better place and everything was God's purpose.

God. Why did he seem so angry with me? Wasn't losing my father enough? Why did he need Jules, too?

knowing that the only certainty of life is death, why didn't God bring an easier way for those who remain to overcome it?

There was no more my father; there was no more Jules. My heroes were gone, and I was left here. Why was I left?

I was being selfish and wise. Nevertheless, it was what allowed me to feel at the moment. I was alone, without those who once helped me become who I am. There was no one else to advise or guide me. And even though I still had Lorenzo or Arthur, I felt lost, like a drifting boat.

When the car parked in front of that church, I asked my family to proceed. I need a few minutes. I gathered the courage and strength to enter that place once again and face what I already knew would be the cause of my nightmares in the coming days. "Confront your demons," everyone says. But whoever coined that phrase never understood the complexity of the dark and bitterness-filled hole that grief brings.

I stared at the church from behind the car window. The same car in which I had once smiled with my best friend for having won it and carrying the Ferrari brand on its bodywork. The same car where I cried when I thought about how my father would have reacted to seeing me come home with it, and Jules hugged me and said it didn't matter where he would be; he would be selling and proud of my achievements.

And now I'm here inside. I'm inside this car, once again, in front of this church. However, without the consolation of someone I love this time. I'm inside this machine, summoning the courage to enter the funeral of someone who once comforted me for a loss.

I'm here summoning the courage to say goodbye to another of my heroes.

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January 20, 2023 - Nice, France.

I park the car in front of an old, low-rise building. Beside me, Marie watches closely as Cecilia steps out of the car in front of us. I can feel her nervousness and notice her hands tightly gripping the cuffs.

I know exactly what she's feeling, and a part of me is proud that I still manage to understand her body language even after all these years, but I try my best to downplay it since it's a delicate moment for both her and me.

After the meeting, Cecilia made a request that we expected but still caught us somewhat off guard. She wanted us to meet Vincenzo that afternoon. And that's where we are now—parked in front of the building, which I assume is where Cecilia lives with Vincenzo.

"What if he doesn't like us?" Marie asks softly. And I think she's posing the question more to herself than me.

"Hey! He's going to adore us!" I say, and she looks at me. Her eyes are wide with fear and anxiety. "Marie, it won't be easy initially, but we've discussed this before. Let's take it one step at a time. Don't think of Vincenzo as our future responsibility for now; think of him as a piece of Jules we will meet, okay?" Her eyes fill with tears, but she nods and smiles.

I take her hand, still clenched into a fist, and slowly bring it to my lips, gently touching it. Her hand opened, and I saw the half-moon red marks in her palm. She sighs in surprise, and I smile, trying to convey reassurance, even though I'm as terrified as she is deep down.

"We'll make it, my dear. Trust me," I say, and she agrees.

She subtly motions for me to release her wrist, but before I can feel my stomach sink with her rejection, her hand grabs mine and squeezes—a firm grip with a lot of meaning. My eyes go from our joined hands to her face, and this time, she has a small, reassuring smile on her lips.

"Let's go, Leclerc! Let's meet the legacy of our best friend."

(…)

"Sorry for the number of stairs! Our elevator hardly ever works," Cecilia says when we finally reach her apartment door after climbing about eight flights of stairs.

I lean against the wall next to the door and pull the air firmly into my lungs. On the other hand, in the last step, Marie depends on the railing, trying to laugh her heart out and normalize her breathing.

"Jesus! How do you manage to do this every day?" She asks Cecilia, who laughs and shrugs.

"Try doing it with a child in your arms; you'll guarantee it's much worse," she says, and Marie laughs lightly.

"So, good for you that you'll soon be free from going through this, right?" I speak, and the smile once painted on her lips fades.

Marie clears her throat, making me take my eyes off Cecilia and look at her. She is giving me a reproachful look, and I muster all of myself not to roll my eyes.

"Cecilia, do you want to go in first and talk to Vincenzo for a bit?" She asks, and Cecilia agrees.

"Good idea! Be back in a minute," she says, searching for the key inside her bag until she finds it and inserts it into the door lock. Before she turned the doorknob to open it, she waited for me for a full minute.

"I'm not asking you to like me, Charles," her tone is profound, and I stare at her with the same intensity. "But know that while we are in my house and front of Vincenzo, you won't talk to me like that, and you won't disrespect my pain in front of my son. I know I can't expect much from you because you're a man, and you'll never understand the situation with any view other than a man's." She turns entirely to me. "None of this is a walk in the park. Not for any of us. And this is the saddest thing I've had to do since I spent 12 hours in labor alone in a hospital while still mourning the father of my child." Tears overflow in her eyes, and I swallow hard.

"I messed up, and I messed up a lot. But I pay my penance every day for it. While you could feel the pain of mourning at your doorstep, I had to get up every day to feed and change a child who depended on me, and for a long time, I considered him to blame for everything." She lowers her gaze, shame and regret in her words reflecting her being. "They said it was postpartum depression, but I always knew better. I always loved Vincenzo, but I will never be able to look at him without seeing the reflection of my mistakes." She wipes the tears streaming down her face with the backs of her hands. "I will live eternally with these ghosts haunting me, but I won't let my son go through this." She says and turns, opening the door and entering right after.

The door closes with a soft thud, and I look at her. I don't know how I should react or even what I feel in the face of Cecilia's declaration. But even without knowing, shame points at the pit of my stomach. It's a shame because I wonder what Jules would say if he could see me now. And I think about my father for the first time in a long time.

"She didn't say that for you to feel bad, Charles," I'm drawn by Marie's voice. Her expression is serious, but her tone is gentle. "But she's not entirely wrong. You'll never understand her, not just because you're a man, but because this situation is far beyond any understanding and empathy you and I can have." She says, and her gaze shifts momentarily before returning to me. "I think the only one who could understand her is no longer here." She whispers the last part, and I continue observing her and digesting her words.

I also wonder if Marie has ever felt like Cecilia, not for the same reasons; that's obvious. But for different reasons, has she ever felt so alone with no one to understand her motives?

And then, I remember when I found out she had left a few days after Jules' funeral. I went to her apartment in the center of Monaco, and when I arrived, the landlord told me she had moved two days ago. I remember the emptiness that filled me: the pain, the loneliness, the mourning.

I had questioned many times why she left and abandoned me, even though she had nothing left with me and no obligation to try to restore what was broken inside me. But at no point did I wonder what she felt.

Jules died, and Marie and I no longer had a relationship. Her parents were never real parents. She had no one else but me, and even though I felt lonely and abandoned, I still had family who felt my pain.

So, is that it? Is that why she left? Because she thought she had no one else? Did she go through all of this alone?

"Please, Charles. Don't do this," she says, and I stare at her.

"Do what?" I ask, confused.

"Don't try to decipher if there's more to what I said than what I said," her gaze is as intense as Cecilia's a bit ago. "This is not about me and certainly not about you." And with these words, she ended the subject.

I wish I could retort and ask her, but that wasn't the moment, and I had already messed up enough for today. So, I nod in understanding, and she relaxes her shoulders and clears her throat.

Marie walks towards me in small steps, my trained eyes on her movements. She stops by my side, leaning against the same wall as me. Her face turned to the stairs where she was before.

"I'm sorry," is what I say because that's what I feel. Marie looks at me, and a faint smile adorns her lips.

"It's not your fault," she looks back at the stairs, and I follow.

We spend a few more minutes facing the cold steps, both immersed in our thoughts until I hear a slight maneuver coming from inside Cecilia's apartment. The door opened, but there was no one there.

"Hi!" A childish voice says, and I look down, seeing a tiny being with dimples and chubby cheeks staring at us. "I'm Vitiendo."

I feel my body freeze, and everything around me seems blurry. The little one looks at me with big brown eyes, just like Jules'. My heart races inside my chest, but still, I try to pull the air as deep as I can.

I crouch down, getting as close as I can to Vincenzo's height, and he keeps looking at me with big and curious eyes.

"Are you a friend of Daddy?" He asks, and I nod.

"Your father was my best friend," I say, his eyes light up. "I'm Charles. Nice to meet you, Vincenzo," I add, extending my hand for him to take.

"Will you be my best friend too, Shal?" he asks, looking from my hand back to my face.

I feel my eyes welling up, and a smile grows on my face.

"Yes, Vincenzo. You'll be my best friend," I reply, and he throws himself into my arms. I was startled and remained still momentarily, feeling his little arms tightly wrapped around my neck.

I instinctively hugged him back when I finally realized he was hugging me.

Tears I tried to hold back streamed down my face. It's Jules' son who is in my arms now. And it's him to whom I will give my word and my life to protect, no matter what happens. Just as Jules once did for me.

I lose myself in the feeling of that hug. I lost the sense of familiarity I felt at that moment. It's as if I've been transported back a few years, and the person in my arms is my best friend. I close my eyes tightly and suppress the urge to say everything. I never had the opportunity to speak to Jules one last time.

I love you. I miss you. I'm sorry. Thank you for being my hero. Stay.

I don't know how long we've stayed in this position, but I've returned to reality, or at least part of it when I hear a sniffle and a half sob behind Vincenzo. He must have heard it, too, as he squirms slightly in my arms, urging me to let go. He then turns to his mother and Marie, who are watching us, tears in their eyes.

Many things are happening on Marie's face, but for the first time since we learned of Vincenzo's existence, fear is not a part of any of them.

I watch her eyes shine with inspiration as she looks at the little boy in front of her, who looks back at her with sparkling eyes. They stand there, staring at each other for a few seconds, until Vincenzo tilts his head in confusion.

"Hi!" he greets with a shy smile. "Are you a princess?" I let out a low laugh, and Cecilia joined me. Marie bends down to his level. Her right hand slowly traces Vincenzo's face as if she wants to capture every feature.

"You look just like your dad," her voice falters with emotion, and Vincenzo extends a hand, mimicking her movements.

"Were you also a friend of Daddy, Princess?" He smiles openly, and Marie quickly nods with closed eyes, savoring the affection Vincenzo is showing.

"Yes, my love. I was excellent friends with your daddy," she says in a soft voice, and just as he did with me, Vincenzo throws himself into Marie's arms, who holds him instantly and presses him tightly against her.

I approach the two and give Marie a sideways hug, running my hands through Vincenzo's small curls.

(...)

"And this here is my Lawi Hamilton car," Vincenzo shows me another one of his toy cars when we reach the small room he shares with his mother. "It's my favorite," he says, and Marie laughs beside me when I can't hide my grimace.

"And a Ferrari? Don't you like Ferrari?" I ask him, and he leaves me confused for a few seconds.

"Fewawi? Is that the red car that breaks?" He innocently asks, and this time Marie bursts into laughter. I nod and give her a dirty look. "Fewawi is cool, Shal. But I like Cedes," he says, his eyes sparkling with the name of Mercedes, and I can't help but smile.

"Alright, I'll make you change that over time. At least it's not Redbull," I say, and Marie shakes her head, the huge smile still on her face.

"Edbull is the best! I like Edbull!" He says, and I choke on the air.

"But that's not possible!" I am incredulous, and Marie already has tears in her eyes from laughing so much.

"Don't be mad, Shal! I'll like Fewawi too, I promise!" Vincenzo extends his pinky finger towards me, and I catch it with mine, crossing them in a promise.

"I think that's great because you're going to spend a lot of time in the Ferrari box with me, little man," I say, picking him up, and he laughs.

"And are we going to meet Lawi Hamilton?" He asks excitedly, and I nod with a smile.

"Well, he won't be in the Ferrari box, but we can go to the Mercedes one; how about that?" I ask, and Vincenzo lets out a scream of happiness and hugs me tightly.

"Thank you, Shal! Are you coming too, Princess?" He turns to Marie, who looks at me awkwardly, unsure what to answer.

It has been a long time since Marie walked through the Paddock; the last time was months before Jules' death when we both ended our relationship. And I understand that for her, it might be a bit challenging.

"The Princess will go when she's ready," I say, looking at Marie. "And when she's ready, we'll both be there to hold her hands and ensure she doesn't feel scared, right?" I ask, shifting my gaze from Marie to Vincenzo, and the little boy in my arms jumps, making me hold him tighter to prevent him from falling.

"Yes! And can we take mommy too, Shal?" I feel a shiver down my spine when he asks me. I look at Marie, who stares back at me with wide, sad eyes.

I don't know what to answer. I still need to understand my position here. Vincenzo will live with us, but I don't know who or how we would break this news to him. Even though I don't like Cecilia and disagree with her parenting methods, I still don't feel that this conversation should come from me but rather from Cecilia, who is still the boy's mother.

No child is ready to leave their mother, especially one so young. Cecilia is Vincenzo's world. The only absolute truth he knows, and I don't want him to lose that, even if it's something enforced.

"How about we check if Mommy has finished making dinner, Little One?" Marie asks, lifting the rug where Vincenzo is sitting. "Will you help me find the kitchen? This house is still a maze for me, and princesses can't wander in mazes without royal guards and knights in armor to watch over them, right?" Marie gestures and puts her hands on her chest, pretending to be a distressed damsel. Despite wanting to laugh at her horrible acting, I feel grateful she thought of something so quickly to distract the boy from his question.

"Yes, Princess! I'll protect you from monsters and bad guys!" Vincenzo says, striking a pose as a brave hero, making us laugh. "Shal, floor!" I understand what he means and bend down to safely put him on the floor.

Vincenzo takes Marie's hand, pulling her towards the door. She follows him briskly, and I stay in the room for a few more minutes, looking at the toys Vincenzo had left on the floor.

His question still echoes in my head. The feeling of wanting to shield him from any pain overwhelms me, but I know it's impossible for him not to suffer from Cecilia's future absence. I wonder if she is not going through the same, for I've known him for less than an hour, and I can't imagine being away from the boy for too long. Then I remember what she said earlier, her bitter words against herself, and how she doesn't want Vincenzo to be haunted by the ghosts of her mistakes.

And remembering the feeling I had earlier with him in my arms, this may be the universe's way of telling me that even though I no longer have my heroes around me, I still have the opportunity to be someone's hero.

And there, sitting on Spider-Man's play mat, holding the toy cars in my hands, I begin to understand, or at least I think I do. If I already love him, having just met him, it's clear that this is a nightmare for Cecilia. She has to leave her son, her only companion because guilt and the consequences of her mistakes always haunt her. Sacrificing her right as a mother rather than offering her son's happiness and future might not make her a terrible mother. Perhaps it's the only thing she has done right in her entire life.

"Come on, Shal! Many monsters want to take the Princess!" Vincenzo appears at the door, and I quickly get up, running towards him. After all, I can't let such a tiny being fight against so many monsters alone.

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Hello! After months, I brought another part translated into English! I apologize for the delay, but it's truly challenging to translate into another language. This weekend, I will translate the other parts :) See You!

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