#do you have any idea how much restraint i used in not drawing him with his teeth out

[tiktaaliker]

weird lizard

[st4rrth0ughts]

Hello!! How are you doing? Is everything okay? How did you sleep? In any case, don’t forget to have a snack if you haven’t already!

I really enjoyed your Argenti fic! I actually have so many more ideas, but I don't want to push myself too much.. But anyway! What did you think of Blade with a fellow immortal reader? Again, ignore if you don't like it!

-🌾anon

im running on 6 hours of sleep and Subway so im fine :33

Bladie with immortal reader who's indulgent in his desires. 🗡️🩸

tw, cw: a little bit of knife play. bladie is a maso, and your all to happy to indulge him (going into uncharted territory)

Blade and you weren't so different, other than the fact you were in the IPC and he was a Stellaron Hunter. But you two could care less about that. Damned be your bosses, your both immortal, what the hell were they going to do? The cosmos were infinite, and there were millions of planets the two of you could run away and settle down in. If you were to describe your bond with the man, its passionate, sweet, everything in between. But even then, new things were always being explored by the two of you, like how the both of you could heal from wounds instantly. Might as well make use of it.

Tracing the knife over the exposed skin of Blade's neck made him shiver, his hips already trying to grind against your thighs as soft sound escape him, his eyes tearing up. You click your tongue disapprovingly, pressing the tip over the side of his neck, breaking just a little bit of skin to draw blood, but not enough to be too painful, as much as he wants that. He whimpers, watching his blood trickle down the knife, the deep red of the liquid making him grind faster, a growing wet spot more and more visible in his pants.

He's bucking himself on your clothed cock, gripping your shoulders tightly, whining as he buries his head in your shoulder, soft pleas of 'wan' you to fuck me' and 'I'll be a good boy, please?'. Its rare to get him to even submit so willingly, to get him to be begging and panting like a little bitch in heat is even rarer. Savouring how his fingers dig into your arms, pretty tear filled eyes closed in pure shame and arousal as he grinds his bare pussy against you, your own self restraint is broken when he lets out the smallest whimper.

The normally cold swordsman is thrashing against the pillow as your tongue is plunging into him, cuffs forcing his legs open as he twitches from overstimulation, sobbing as he squirts on your mouth as your finger his clit roughly, flicking and fiddling the nub as he arches his back and grinds his head back into your mouth, fisting your hair as your tongue grazes the soft spot that made him squirm against the mattress. You trail the knife over his stomach, lightly touching his abs as you press it right above his cunt, eliciting a squeal from your love.

When you finally push your cock into him, he splutters as he rubs a bandaged hand over the bulge in his belly. He's babbling some stupid shit about how you were going to fuck a baby in him and being your cute baby momma. How adorable, he cant even speak properly. He really was mushy in your hands, wasn't he? You start off slow, pumping your cock into him as he grips the sheets, soft moans spilling from his lips as his eyes close in pure delight.

of course, it quickly progresses into you pounding him into the mattress, Blade swore that you were trying to fuck his womb with how roughly your cock his hitting his cervix, making his body spasm and loud shrieks of 's' too big-!' as his pretty red eyes are shut as tears spill from them. Your finger reaches out to pinch his clit, flicking and pulling it roughly as your length impales him, making his back arch violently against the bed, dark hair spreading around the bed, giving the illusion of a sea of darkness, the prettiest void you set your eyes on.

The immortal doesn't know how many times you've wrung a orgasm out of him, you haven't even came yet! he's sobbing stupidly into the pillows, pleas of 'cant- s' too much-!' and 'n-no, cumming! m' cumming, please, don't-!' as he fists your ponytail, trying to get you to stop, he cant even think straight and speak anymore? Perfect! Afterall, your goal was to break him and make him a cute little cocksleeve greedy for your cum! You finally decide to end your lovely swordsman's pleasurable torment, movements slowing as your seed fills his womb, making his eyes roll back as you pull out with a wet sound, cooing in his ear as you finger your cum back into him, making his body weakly squirm. You'd honestly thought he would have been able to handle you better, but oh well, being able to fuck him stupid on a daily basis is awesome too.

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Diaboy Yandere Quiz Results

So if you haven't taken my "which one of the diabolik lovers boys would go yandere for you?" quiz, you might want to do that before reading the rest of this post. If you have taken the quiz and are curious as to what the other results are like but don't want to retake said quiz 14 times, then this post is for you! Below the cut are the yandere!diaboy x reader drabbles for every diaboy + Karl that I wrote for the quiz.

Quick warning: These drabbles feature dark content including themes of imprisonment, torture, blackmail and stalking.

Combined these results have a total word count of 3.4k :') If you enjoy them, let me know which one is your favourite!

Shuu

You’re crying again. You’re not being loud about it but from where you’re currently splayed half on top of him—the heat of you warming his bones in lieu of the fireplace he refuses to light—it would be impossible for him not to notice the faint trembling of your body and the growing wet patch on his shoulder. There isn’t any point in saying much when you’re like this, which is somewhat ironic when you’re the only person he’d even consider putting the effort in for. Instead he shifts slightly, moving his arm over you so you’re more securely held against him while the other slips out one of his earbuds and places it into your ear instead. He’s not stupid, he knew what dragging you to the other side of the world—far away from everything you’d ever known—would do to you, but if he’s honest with himself he’d do it again in a heartbeat. It was your own fault, in a way, for making him care, for making the fear when he saw the way Reiji looked at you sharp enough to cut through the numbness he’d lived with for so long. Yes, it was you who’d sought him out in the first place, so no matter how miserable you might be now, you only had yourself to blame.

Reiji

The tea in your cup is poisoned. You’re sure of it, even without the faint bitterness tainting the delicate aroma, you can tell from the look in Reiji’s eyes alone—you’ve seen it often enough. The question is what concoction he’s prepared for you this time; whether he’s decided he’d rather you be numb and pliant or feverish with want. Still, you do not break your composure, remaining the image of grace as you lift the cup to your mouth. The tight corset your captor has forced upon is not nearly as constricting as the way he watches you, his own cup left ignored on the table. Months ago you’d have scoffed at the idea of someone willing drinking poisoned tea, but now you are aware the consequences if you do not will be far worse than whatever toxins he’s prepared for you. He won’t kill you, you don’t think, not when the way he looks at you can only be described as obsessive. You used to think it came from his desire to mold you into his ideal of a perfect partner, but now you’re not so sure. Sometimes, when you catch him watching you while you’re supposed to be asleep, you wonder if just maybe he simply wants you. A pity for him then, that no matter how many restraints he binds you with or drugs he pours down your throat, you will ensure your heart remains forever out of his reach.

Ayato

Blood always tastes at its best when the person being drunk from enjoys it. It’s something Ayato figured out after the old bastard let them loose in the human world, the occasional sacrificial bride being ferried in to keep them from causing enough trouble to attract unwanted attention. But no blood has ever tasted as sweet as yours when you’re pinned down beneath him, whimpering in the ecstasy of having your lifeblood drained away and mixing with his. He draws away only briefly to take note of your expression, eyes screwed up with tears of pleasure brewing at the corners. You look amazing like this, even better than you had in the cute little cheerleading outfit you’d worn to school sports games, back before he’d had his first taste of you. You’d screamed the first time, your usual bright enthusiasm falling off your features as you’d realized what he was. And yet you’d still come to your practice the very next day, a brightly coloured band-aid on your neck to hide the marks. When he’d come back for a second bite, you’d only struggled a little—enough to keep things interesting, but not so much that you could fool him into thinking you were actually trying to get away. No, you want to be here, he’s certain of it, and he’s generous enough to keep you.

Kanato

You’re alone again today. Sitting perfectly still, empty bento box in your lap, eyes shut as you listen to a soft melodic tune through your headphones. You look lovely like this, the moonlight filtering through the window painting the planes of your face a silvery hue. It's only the fact you look so peaceful—almost like one of his wax dolls—that keeps Kanato from tearing your headphones away. He will, once he's had enough of watching you like this, and he knows from your previous encounters that the wide-eyed expression you’ll make is almost as good as the one you wear now. The still healing marks from his fangs peek out from the collar of your white school shirt and the corner of his lips twist. You’ve not told any of your schoolmates of any of your encounters, he’s certain of it from how closely he’s been watching you. If anything, you’ve isolated yourself even further than you already were, only briefly exchanging pleasantries in that barely there voice of yours he’s grown so fond of. The air stirs faintly, a gentle breeze through a cracked open window, and you open your eyes. The fear is immediate as you take in his face, close enough to yours that you should have been able to feel his breath—if he had any need to breathe. He does now, to take in the scent of your terror, and it is oh so very sweet.

Laito

Laito has broken so many mortal things, he’s long since lost count. He can’t even remember what all of them looked like, but he does remember the expressions on their faces in their final moments—fervent devotion, desperation and sometimes just pure madness. You, however, he’s had for months, and yet the light has yet to fade from your eyes despite his very best efforts. Sometimes you even look at him with pity—likely due to what you’ve put together of his history from the scraps of it scattered over the manor—though those days have grown less frequently since he made your move to his room a permanent affair. Now when you look at him, it’s mostly filled with a hatred that burns brighter than any emotion he’s ever had from his other lovers. It’s intoxicating, more so than even your blood. Laito’s not sure when exactly he stopped wanting anyone else to see it—or when he stopped wanting anything else for that matter. He thinks you feel the same way, that you’d like nothing more than to see him dead, enough that it keeps the spark inside of you burning bright. You’d confessed to believing in love once in the early days and he’d laughed at you for it. Even now the memory makes him scoff, for the love you spoke of that day could never possibly compare to this.

Subaru

You get the impression you’re being watched. It’s subtle at first, a small movement at the corner of your eye that vanishes as soon as you turn towards it. A faint prickle on the back of your neck every so often when you walk through the hallway. It doesn’t take long for things to escalate, until you can no longer shake the feeling of eyes on you almost everywhere you go. You think there’s something else going on too, the underclassman who you could have sworn had a crush on you now refuses to so much as look at you and he’d gone running like the devil himself was on his tail when you’d tried to approach him. Other people around you have started behaving weirdly too, a strange hush following you wherever you go, your fellow students going out of their way to avoid jostling you when you have move classrooms between lessons. There is one constant in all of this, and you’re starting to wonder if he might somehow be responsible for it. Subaru Sakamaki, despite the prestige of his father’s name, has the air of someone who’s had a difficult life. You’d decided to make an effort to be kind to him when you’d first noticed it, not necessarily going out of your way to hunt him down, but to grant him a little more patience and understanding than you might normally. He’s currently the only person who hasn’t started acting like you’ve contracted some horrible contagious disease, but you do catch him looking at you strangely sometimes. The moment he notices and immediately turns away are the few occasions you no longer feel watched. His expression in those moments is a bit like someone caught between wanting something but feeling conflicted over whether or not they should have it. And for some reason, the thought that he may eventually make up his mind fills you with nothing but dread.

Ruki

You’re being difficult again. It’s not that Ruki had believed you were past this stage—far from it in fact—but he had thought the punishment you’d received in your last session with him might have at least served as a temporary reminder to not push his limits again so soon. He knows the wounds have yet to properly heal from the faint trace of your blood that blossoms in the air whenever you move in a way that strains the skin of your back—and yet still you insist on running your mouth. Ruki regards you coldly for a moment. Back when he’d first met you, he might have mistaken the look on your face for defiance, but now he takes note of how brightly your eyes shine, the faint tremble of your lower lip. You’re lashing out because you’re afraid, like a cornered animal that hasn’t yet learnt not to bite the hand that feeds. He closes his book and places it to the side, not missing the way you try to hide your flinch as he stands up. There need to be consequences for this type of behaviour, there’s no point in putting this much effort into your training if not, but rather feeling annoyed, Ruki finds himself almost pleased at the prospect. For as much as your insolence grinds, there’s something about the way your tough façade breaks almost as soon as he gets started—and in the way you fall apart under his hands with the sting of antiseptic that follows. You cling to him sometimes, half delirious with pain, and it’s those moments he finds he savours the most.

Kou

Kou chuckles as you cling onto his arm, still unused to the heels he’d forced you into before you left the mansion. It’s honestly pretty cute, although not as cute as the way you keep glancing around anxiously, convinced that at any moment now his fans will appear around the corner and start baying for your blood. That same fear, however, is the only reason you’re here in the first place—his demand in return for not posting staged pictures of the two of you tangled together online. You’re actually doing pretty well all things considered, you even manage to flash him a wobbling smile when he tells you about the café he’s taking you to. Kou can’t quite decide what he likes most about about your little arrangement—that you’ve gotten good enough at acting that he can almost pretend you’re on a date with him because you want to be, or that the scent of your fear in the air tells him is doesn’t really matter because he has you right in the palm of his hand. 

Yuma

Yuma’s used to people being intimidated by him. If not for his stature, and it usually is, then the way he speaks is often enough to set those around him slightly on edge. Not you though. No, the first time you meet, you look him dead in the eye without a hint of any sort of fear in your face. It’s not a judging look either, more of an assessment, that you realize he is used to being one of the biggest people in the room but that will carry no weight with you. It feels more like a challenge than anything else, and he feels the tips of one of fangs peek out from where the corner of his lip curls into a smirk. You never show fear when you look at him in any of your subsequent meetings either, even when you really should—like now, when he’s keeping your hands secured above your head with only the sheer weight of him. You're not stupid enough to put up a real fight, not when you can already feel the strain on your bones from his grip, but you are stubborn. And the defiance in your face even when you’re pinned helplessly just makes your blood taste all the sweeter for it.

Azusa

It had been an accident, the first time you’d pushed him down the stairs. You’d been in a rush, running late to one of your classes, when you’d tripped over your own feet, the hand you threw out to steady yourself slamming into the back of someone you hadn’t realized was there. All you could do was watch with a look of horror as the figure lost their balance and fell right down the otherwise abandoned stairwell. Perhaps you should have registered there was something wrong then, when instead of crying or getting angry at you or having any sort of normal response to being shoved down a set of stairs, Azusa—as you’d later come to find out his name was—had simply sat up and stared up at you like you were some kind of god. The second time you’d pushed Azusa down the stairs was less of an accident. He hadn’t left you alone after the first unfortunate incident and no amount of apologizing or promises it wouldn’t happen again were enough to get rid of him. One day, he’d managed to corner you after the ring of the final bell, standing so close you could feel an eerie coldness emanating from his body, and you felt the final threads of your patience snap. In truth, you hadn’t registered how close you were to those wretched stairs—too focused on the primitive part of your brain that screamed to get away from the strange boy—and thus, the quick short shove you gave him was enough to send him tumbling a second time. You’d stood there, frozen, as he slowly sat up, a rivulet of blood trailing down his face from where he must have knocked his head on the way down. And yet the injury was not the most appalling part of the scene. No, that right was reserved for the look of pure adoration in his eyes, directed straight at you.

Carla

You’re too kind for your own good. It’s something Carla’s become painfully aware of over the months he’s known you. At first he’d believed you were simply frightened by him, acting on his wishes to avoid his wrath as so many others had done in the past. But he’s familiar with the scent of your fear now and it is not fear you feel when you check on him after hearing the Endzeit-induced coughs from his room or when you make dishes with cured ham for him after he let slip that he was fond of it. It is a weakness, he thinks, but one he could perhaps tolerate if simply reserved for him. It is not however, anyone who crosses your path is greeted with your good nature and it eats at Carla’s insides far more than the disease rotting his blood. He is the Founder King, he should be able to have what he wants. And he will have you, all of you, so that no one else ever will.

Shin

Shin knows you like him, at least, he’s nearly certain of it. Because despite the hell he’d put you through after you first met, you’d still ended up hanging around him. The once fear-filled look on face whenever you saw him slowly becoming resigned until, at some point, your gaze had started to turn heated. For Shin’s part, you’d only been a bit of idle amusement at first, someone to terrorize whenever the frustration of his and Carla’s situation got to be too much. Eventually, however, your interactions had gone from being a way to pass the time to something he looked forward to; a wolf anticipating a meal. It was the first time he’d noticed the look of want in your eyes that he’d started to feel the same. So then why? If you want him, why does he never quite feel like he has you? His initial conclusion had been that it was something to do with Carla, that you were trying to pull one over on him to cosy up to the Founder King. But no amount of stalking from you from the shadows or checking on your scent every time he saw you had revealed that anything was going on between the two of you. If anything, you actively avoid his brother—Shin’s only ever seen you in the same room together when he himself is present. Perhaps you’re still hung up on how your relationship started, some part of you yet to forgive him for all the things he did to you. Or maybe, you’re doing it on purpose. After all, you’ve seen enough of his wolf form to know that when something runs away, there’s always an instinctive drive to chase.

Kino

Kino makes it seem like a coincidence when he runs into you outside of the local games arcade. You have no need to know he’d seen your social media post featuring a photo of a popular new café, the one opposite the shop he’d lingered in, waiting to stage this particular encounter. He’s done it a couple of times now—pulling at the strings attached to you to arrange these chance meetings. A couple of months ago he could never have imagined putting this much effort into a single human, especially one who wasn’t the Vampire Lord’s chosen Eve, but now it's turned into a game of sorts—to what degree can he entangle you in this web before you start to notice. It’s going well so far, you think him a simple classmate who’s a regular in the area—you’ve even given him your ID for a couple of the games you have on your phone. Tonight’s looking to be a lot of fun too. In just a couple of minutes, the friend you’d been hanging out with will get a call from their mother who should have just received a selection of pictures showing her precious darling skipping the cram school she paid oh so much money for. The friend will likely get called home—a shame, Kino will say, with a smile on his lips, but there’s no reason he and you can’t still have some fun before the night is over.

Karlheinz

Under any other circumstances, the scene before you would have had you swooning. A meal not out of place in a Michelin star restaurant laid out beautifully before you on top of an intricately carved antique table with possibly the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on seated at the opposite end to you, swirling a glass full of a rich, red liquid. The view out of the floor to ceiling windows is spectacular, a sky full of stars and a view of the forest and various small towns far below. Except these are not other circumstances, and the man who sits, watching you carefully as you cut into your food is none other than the Vampire King himself—and you are quite certain that it’s not wine that sits in his cup. The view is no comfort either, not when you know you are looking out over the demon world, a place that you’re sure would be quite hostile to you if not for the protection of the man keeping you here. Not that you’d gotten any real chance to see it save for the view from the castle you hadn’t left once in the months since you’d arrived here. You tell if the complete lack of any sort of guard makes you feel better or worse, on one hand at least you’re not followed everywhere, but on the other hand, the fact Karlheinz is powerful enough to keep you here without them makes the odds of escape seem slim. 

[captn-trex]

technical devotion, part fourteen: changes

a/n okay so I have no restraint, I uploaded the last chapter and then immediately wrote this and am posting it immediately. also I am sorry I cannot write lingering conflict, I have no backbone. also new banner!! bc I'm indecisive. now that you know all my issues, enjoy!

warnings: depiction of a panic attack, smoking

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Echo had expected things to be different when him and Kan got back to base, but he hadn't expected it to be so immediate.

They had barely set one foot inside before they were whisked into command, where Kan was informed that her skillset would prove useful for mission planning, and that she would take on more responsibility from now on, gaining the unofficial rank of Sergeant. She had been honoured, of course, but it felt like something that was very much out if her comfort zone. She wasn't a leader, she was a follower, and that's how she liked it. Though, if Rex had faith in her, she trusted his judgement.

Echo was happy that he'd be working with Kan more regularly now, but so was almost everyone else in the room. He couldn't blame his brothers, she was gorgeous, and almost elusive to most of them, having never spoken to them. He watched on painfully as she reunited with Howzer, jumping into his open arms and hugging him tightly, and as they stayed touching each other, catching up excitedly.

Then he watched her reunite with her other friends from across the mess, Oscar ruffling her hair as he hugged her from the side, and Teddy high-fiving her and embracing her for good measure for beating Howzer to a proper command position.

Echo felt so foolish.

Foolish that he thought he was special because she was kind to him, foolish that he thought he was lucky to get to experience her touch, and foolish for ever even entertaining the idea that she could possibly harbour feelings for him.

Kan was kind, but she gave out her kindness to everyone without exception. That's what made it so hard for Echo to feel negatively about her - it wasn't her fault, it was his. His mistake.

And now it was too late to do anything about it.

He had fallen for her. Hard. And now he would have to carry on as if she was any other person at the base. He didn't know if he could, and so, reluctantly, he tried to distance himself from her.

Kan noticed immediately when Echo started pulling away. For one, whenever he had to address her in the command centre, he would call her ‘Kan’. She didn't mind of course, it was her name after all, but she had got used to him calling her ‘M'aira’, and she much preferred when he called her that. He was the only one who did, and that's what made it special.

He also never came to see her in her office, never said a word if she ever sat with Rex and Gregor at meal times, never spoke to her before bed, and she hadn't looked into his eyes since the day they got back. It hurt her a lot, and the only logical conclusion she could draw was that he was embarrassed of her. Embarrassed to call her M'aira, embarrassed to talk to her, and embarrassed to even look at her.

She didn't know why he felt that way, but it was obvious that whatever bond they had created during their time away from base was just a one sided thing. That it hadn't meant anything to Echo.

Between that and her new command position, Kan was extremely stressed out.

Her brain was going at a klick a minute, unable to shut off from either mission plans or Echo. She couldn't focus, and the only respite she got was sleep but that would elude her because the cause of half her problems was sleeping right next to her. She had begun sleeping in her office again, though her back certainly wasn't happy about it.

Teddy was a perceptive clone, and he could see how haggard she had become. He contantly asked how she was, but she would always just say she was tired, that was it. She had none of the usual spring in her step, and after a couple weeks of it not going away, and only getting worse, he finally did something.

He dragged her outside after dinner, with the aim of getting her to relax. He took her over to the edge of the platform, and they sat down, looking out on the view of the deep reds and browns of the rocky terrain that surrounded the base.

“Here” He offered her his cigarra after he'd taken a drag, “To help you relax”

“No thanks” She said simply, accompanied by a weak smile.

“Kan…” Teddy began. He didn't really know what to say, but he tried his best, “What's going on with you? And I want a real answer this time”

Kan looked up at him sadly, her eyes glistening, before looking out to the view again. “I don't know, everything is just too much at the moment” She took the cigarra from his hand and took a long drag before passing it back.

Teddy watched on in worry, “What is? It might help to get it off your mind”

Kan sighed deeply, exhaling the smoke, “It sounds so ridiculous when I say it out loud though”

“I'm sure it doesn't, come on” Teddy urged, and he could see her cracking, beginning to open up.

“Well… for one, being a Sergeant is absolutely no fun” She said pointedly, and Teddy chuckled.

“Why not?”

“It's so much responsibility, I can't stop thinking about how my actions affect everyone here, how I could be the reason for someone being killed or captured by the Empire” She explained, her shoulders slumping with each word.

“Have you talked to Rex about it?” Teddy asked.

“No” Kan laughed, “I couldn't, he's such a natural, he wouldn't understand”

Teddy shook his head, “Just because he's a natural doesn't mean he lacks empathy. I'm sure he'd be able to help ease your worries”

“Maybe about that” Kan mumbled, loud enough for Teddy to hear it.

“What else is going on then?” He asked, taking another drag.

Kan looked out at the view despondently, slumped forwards onto her knees. He gave her the time to answer the question on her own time, which took longer than he was hoping.

“It's Echo” She finally whispered.

“Echo? What about him?” Teddy hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary with him.

“It's- We-” Kan sighed aggressively, “We were getting on so well during our mission, but when we came back, it's like he hated me or something. He never talks to me unless it's regarding a mission but even then it's more talking around me to other people, and he never looks at me anymore, I just-” She stopped herself before she could get choked up.

“You just what?” Teddy pressed.

Kan chewed on her lip, “I really thought he might like me back, you know?” She said quietly, and Teddy understood immediately.

He placed his arm around her shoulders and hugged her into his side. “I know, I know” He spoke soothingly, rubbing her arm.

Kan rested her head on Teddy's shoulder, “It's just embarrassing, to be wrong”

“Yeah, but hey, that's on him. If he doesn't like you, he's a di'kut”

Kan looked up and saw the small grin on Teddy's face, and her own lips curled up, “Yeah?”

“Absolutely, you're a catch” Teddy said, earning a small giggle from Kan.

“Thanks Teddy, so are you”

“I know” He smirked, resting his head against hers as they looked out again.

“Thanks for bringing me here, I really needed this” Kan spoke sincerely.

“No problem K” Teddy squeezed her slightly before standing up, “Let's go inside yeah?”

Kan didn't respond immediately, looking over the setting sun, “I think I'll just stay here for another moment, watch the sun set”

“Alright, I'll see you later then” Teddy said, giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze before walking away.

When she knew Teddy had left, Kan finally let herself cry.

She let out a choked sob, the product of bottling up her frustration, anger, sadness and embarrassment for weeks. Now that she had popped the cork, she couldn't stop the flow of tears that fell from her eyes. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her head in them, her vision blurred and her breath ragged.

She thought of her mother and father. She wondered if they would be proud of the work she was doing. She thought of Master Unduli, she thought of Spider, she thought of Senator Organa, she thought of Rex, Howzer, Gregor, Oscar, Teddy, and finally, Echo. Every insecure thought, every nasty thing she ever had to say about herself clogged her mind in an instant, and she felt as if she couldn't breathe.

She let her legs hang over the side of the platform again and gripped the edges tightly. Her eyes were screwed shut and her breathing was only becoming more unstable, no matter how much she tried to calm it. Her stomach was in knots, she was choking on the tears that wouldn't stop falling, and her body was shaking involuntarily. She knew what this was, she had experienced them enough, and she just hoped that if she could grip the platform hard enough that it would subside quicker. She had no such luck.

She heard her name shouted, but to her it sounded feint, like she was underwater. She curled up again, facing away from the voice. She heard them again, and felt someone touch her back gently, though they might as well have struck her with lightning for how she reacted.

She flinched away, trying to find her voice, managing to choke out “Go away”

Her own voice sounded foreign to her ears in this altered state of being, but she couldn't think about it for too much longer before she was enveloped by a pair of arms. She rested her forehead on the person's chest, heaving and trying to calm herself. As she came down from the worst of it, something about the person felt so familiar, and she soon realised exactly who it was when they brought a hand to the bare skin on her back, and it was exceedingly cold and smooth.

She knocked herself backwards, falling onto her backside as she looked up at him, the catalyst of all her problems. Echo was looking down at her with worry painted on his face, and she frowned as her breathing evened out more. She scrambled from the floor and uttered apologies as she ran away from him, back towards the base.

Echo followed after her, catching up to her quickly and moving around her so he could stop in front of her.

“M'aira, what's going on? What's the matter?” He asked, placing his hands gently on either side of her arms.

Kan didn't say anything. She just stared at him, her chest heaving and a deep frown settled over her features.

“M'aira?” Echo said quietly, stepping towards her, but Kan stepped back a few paces.

“Why are you calling me that?” She tried to speak plainly, but her voice was still thick with emotion.

“What?” Echo asked, confused as to why she would ask that.

“Aren't you worried someone is going to see us talking?” She asked, her voice breaking.

Echos heart fell from his chest, “What do you mean?”

Kan could feel her bottom lip begin to quiver and she instinctively dug her teeth into it to stop it. She wasn't going to let Echo see her cry. Well, anymore than he already had.

“What’s going on M'aira, why are you upset?”

The use of the nickname once more sent her over the edge, “Because of you!” She shouted, though her anger was swallowed by embarrassment as she barged past Echo and made her way inside.

Echo stood frozen on the spot.

Because of me? But I haven't even spoken to her in… oh.

He quickly followed after her again, not entirely sure where she was headed but he hoped it was towards her office. He saw the door close from the end of the hall and heard the lock engage immediately after, something he didn't even know the door was capable of.

He knocked a few times, and heard Kan sniffle but she didn't reply.

“M'aira, please open up” He said gently, leaning his forehead on the door.

“Go away Echo” She replied, and Echo sighed deeply.

“Kandam'aira… please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you”

The door then zipped open and he fell forwards slightly, finding himself in the room as Kan closed the door again.

“What did you mean to do?” She looked up at him sternly, her cheeks stained by tears.

“I-” He couldn't admit to his feelings right now, that would only confuse her, “I just thought you might want some space”

“Why would you think that? I thought we were friends, Echo. Friends at least look at each other from time to time”

“I know, I'm sorry, I guess I just figured that we'd been together for a while and you might be sick of me” He stated, though it came out more like a question.

“Well I don't” Kan crossed her arms, and Echo blinked at her.

“Don't what?”

Kan rolled her eyes, “I don't want space”

“Oh, right” Echo said awkwardly, and Kan felt her undeniable fondness for him returning as she looked up at his blushing cheeks.

She then quickly wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly, “I missed you”

Echo could feel his heart ache as she gripped him tightly, and he matched her hold, resting his cheek on the top of her head, “I missed you too”

Kan pulled back, looking up at him sheepishly, “I'm sorry you had to see me all…” She wiped her cheek, “Panicky”

“I don't mind, I'm just sorry that I caused it” He said, bringing his own hand up to wipe the wetness from her cheek.

Kan sighed, “It wasn't just you”

Echo gave her a questioning look and she shook her head slightly, “I'm just stressed, but I'll be fine”

“What are you stressed about?” Echo pressed.

“Nothing, I think I'm going to get an early night now” She said, opening the door.

“Hey” Echo gripped her shoulders lightly, “We can talk about it if you want?”

“Another time maybe” She smiled up at him, “Goodnight Echo”

Echo sighed with a worried smile, “Goodnight M'aira”

Kan's smile grew at the use of the nickname as she stepped away from Echo, hoping its return was permanent.

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2023 - Day 16: Jerk

The Crystal Exarch’s head jerked upwards as the aetherial chain around his neck pulled taut. Emet-Selch, who for gods-only-know what reason still wore the garb of Emperor Solus, walked into the room with a cool nonchalance.

“Sorry, am I intruding? I had hoped you might indulge me with a little chat,” the Ascian said.

G’raha simply stared with a calm, patient loathing. He needed to conserve what little strength he had—and hopefully even recover a little more, if that was even possible. It would be difficult. He was so very far from the tower. Coming to that, he did not rightly have an idea where he actually was, besides “a long way away”.

The surrounds were amenable—almost hospitable—but huge, built for beings several times larger than anyone he knew. He felt he saw faint hints of design that one might see in Garlean architecture, but this felt warmer. Richer. Less consumed with constantly brandishing a fist of iron. More invested in art and enlightenment. Were it not for his aetheric restraints, he would be quite eager to explore.

Of course, he had made all of those observations between when he had regained consciousness, and now. He was a bit preoccupied with other matters at the moment. 

Emet-Selch was by no means the first dangerously-powerful madman he’d faced. So he knew he must stay stoic and focused. Maintaining composure was absolutely essential for not talking one’s way into a trap—doubly so when dealing with one of the Paragons.

It also tended to drive said dangerously-powerful people to utter distraction, which was always a bonus.

“No?” Emet-Selch sighed, feigning disappointment. “Shy, are we? I would have hoped for more from the, what was it again? ‘Adjudicator of sacred history’...?”

The subtlest smirk tugged at the corner of G’raha’s lips. The Ascian’s tone had clearly been intended to mock how low he had fallen. But he took it as a heartening sign. He had gotten to him.

Emet-Selch’s face registered the briefest flicker of irritation. But he shrugged and shook his head. “I had thought to use your chosen title to be polite. But if it no longer suits you…” he knelt to the Exarch’s eye level, who was bound, seated, against the wall. “Then perhaps you would prefer I use another term. Tell me, what should I call you?”

“‘Crystal Exarch’ will suffice.”

“Hmm. I think not, G’raha,” the Ascian replied. He was only the second person in a hundred years to use his true name. G’raha did not appreciate it. Emet-Selch wryly continued, “Oh yes, I did indeed hear your champion as you were trying to draw that light out of her. What a pity you did not have the strength to see the deed done in the end. What a torturous, agonizing transformation she must be undergoing. Perhaps even as we speak!”

To any who did not know him well, G’raha’s utter non-reaction would have come as a surprise. One might conclude he did not seem to care all that deeply for the Warrior of Light after all.

But of course, the truth was simply that nothing Emet-Selch could say would be worse than what he had berated himself with already. He remained quiet. He did not break eye contact.

The cavalier air started to fade. Emet-Selch’s gaze grew hard. “So, G’raha. You are clearly from the Source. But who are you?”

“No one you would ever need be aware of.”

“Well, obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes, “Else we would not be having this conversation. How came you to know such unique applications of the tower?”

“Do you not find its workings simple enough?” he answered dryly.

“Quite so. And what you have done should not be possible. …And we have had this conversation before, so let us cut right to the chase. How did you do it?”

“Impossibly, it would seem.”

Emet-Selch raised his hand, and with a quick turn of his wrist, the aetherial shackles wound around the Exarch tightened. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but made not so much as a sound.

“Do you know how easily I could kill you?” the Ascian asked.

“With very little effort, I’d imagine. …But you won’t.”

Another squeeze of the constraints. Emet-Selch’s voice was low, nearing a growl. “I would advise you not to tempt me otherwise.”

Both men stared at each other, waiting to see who would balk first.

Suddenly and without warning, Emet-Selch straightened up with a start and looked off into the distance at nothing. He appeared as if he had heard something. G’raha couldn’t tell what.

But whatever it was, it allowed Emet-Selch’s infuriatingly casual facade to slip back into place. He released his intangible grasp on the chains, and G’raha slumped, gasping a quiet breath of relief. 

The Ascian stood. “Ah. Forgive me, adjudicator, but business calls me away. Do have a think about what we discussed while I am out, would you?”

“Anything for you,” he replied, allowing himself a parting barb of sarcasm.

Emet-Selch smirked. He walked away with a halfhearted wave. “Try not to dally too much. After all… the forthcoming rejoining is back on schedule, and it shall wait for no man.”

As the heavy door swung shut, G’raha hung his head and tried to breathe deeply. If he had any desperate last chance to make things right—however slim—he must focus.

With every onze of his senses, and quietly whispered incantations, he began attempting to decipher a way to dispel his bonds.

[hollowistheworld]

Flies

Day 2 of IBWeek 2023, hosted by @the-bureaucracts-are-everything

Also on AO3

They’re admiring Gabriel’s statue again, and that’s how Beelzebub knows they’re absolutely fucked. It shouldn’t have been endearing, watching Gabriel stare lovingly at a statue of himself. But unfortunately for Beelzebub, Gabriel was no longer capable of doing anything that wasn’t endearing. Everything was their song miracled onto the jukebox, Gabriel buying them human consumables so they wouldn’t draw too much attention, Gabriel letting his gifted fly out of its matchbox just to smile at it and listen to the buzz of its wings. 

Beelzebub had decided they didn’t care about the fraternizing, didn’t even care about pretending to come up for a reason for it, but this… They looked up at Gabriel’s statue, at the massive cross, the memories of the days of robes and ceremonies.

“How were we both more and less formal back then?” Beelzebub asks.  

"Hmm? Oh. I…” 

And Beelzebub misses the next bit of Gabriel’s blustering, because they’d looked over just in time to see Gabriel look up at the statue - meaning he hadn’t been looking at it all along. It had looked, instead, for just a moment, like he’d been looking at Beelzebub. 

And Beelzebub isn’t quite ready to think about all the implications of that, so they tune back in just in time to catch Gabriel saying, “I don’t miss the robes though. Suits suit me far better.” He chuckles and repeats, “Suits suit me better. That’s good. Didn’t even mean to.” 

Beelzebub, with barely any attempt at restraint, smiles. He is funny. Not that obnoxious excuse for funny that one usually gets with angels, where they pretend they don’t realize they’re rubbing the Fall in their demonic audience’s faces. Actually funny. And genuine. 

And… sweet. Gabriel is sweet, which would have been an unimaginable description of him a few years ago. But back then Gabriel had been more of an idea than another living being. Just Beelzebub’s counterpart Upstairs, the one they’d butted heads against a few times over the millennia, the one they'd be squaring off against once the War finally got rolling.

Now Beelzebub would rather take a massive demotion and spend the rest of their eternal existence in the worst of Hell’s pits than play that particular story out. 

Because they’re fucked. Because they’re standing here in a graveyard, looking at a statue of the Supreme Archangel Gabriel while standing next to the actual Supreme Archangel Gabriel, because there’s nowhere else they’d rather be than wherever Gabriel feels like being. Fuck that, there’s nowhere else they even like being anymore. 

“Are there any statues of you out there?” Gabriel asks. 

Beelzebub shrugs, and makes an effort to not preen too obviously at being asked. “None that bear such a good likeness. Mortals like to emphasize the horns and scales and things when they make representations of demons. They are meant to be afraid of us after all.” 

Gabriel looks down at them with a sort of frown. He has an odd way of frowning, Beelzebub has noticed, as though he’s trying to convince you he’s smiling at the same time. Probably wasn’t really allowed to frown in Heaven, same as you could never look too happy in Hell. “Right,” he says. “Demonic attributes. You have more than just the flies?” 

…Right. They’ve only ever met up on Earth, where boils on the skin or rotting teeth might cause a panic. “Plenty more. I’m the Grand Duke of Hell. I can’t look mortal. We aren’t like you lot, where we can brag about being made in God’s image.” They sneer a little, but with far less bite than there’d been the first few times they’d had conversations like this. It all feels so natural now. They're not so different, at the end of it all. Not in ways that matter. 

Gabriel turns his back on his statue. “May I see?” 

Beelzebub stares at him. “…Why?” 

“That’s what you really look like, isn’t it? I’d like to see your real face.” 

They’re doing it again. Taking a step they aren’t supposed to, heading toward another place they won’t be able to come back from. The first had been when they’d simply agreed they’d meet again soon, no pretext provided, and the steps have been coming faster and faster ever since. This is the most dangerous thing Beelzebub has done since the original rebellion, all those thousands of years ago. But unlike then, when Beelzebub had looked up at God’s place above them and braced themself for the brutal consequences they knew were coming, there’s no real fear. Just the awareness that they’re about to do something just as reckless and dangerous as the Fall had been. 

Beelzebub is pretty sure this fall is going to be worth it. 

They’re still caught off guard every time they move closer to it though. This isn’t what demons do. This isn’t what angels do. But when Crowley and his angel had canceled Armageddon, they’d messed up a lot more than just the Great Plan. 

It occurs to Beelzebub they may have to come up with some reason to cut Crowley loose and take him off hell’s shit list. They have enough decency to at least recognize when they owe someone, and it would seem they owe Crowley a lot. 

“Alright,” Beelzebub agrees, and Gabriel smiles. 

It’s been a long time since they’ve been on Earth without disguises. Humans aren’t so easy to terrorize or impress as they used to be, and even Hell’s Grand Duke has to deal with an obnoxious amount of paperwork to get a new body if the old one gets burned at the stake or stoned to death. Beelzebub takes off their hat and twists their neck, stretches their shoulders, feels the pop in the back of their ribs. Their flies begin to buzz. They can see when the noise reaches the world - Gabriel tips his head and smiles wider.

The night grows a little darker, the air thicker. Beelzebub feels their skin shift and snap, the left side of their mouth pulling up, their teeth sharpening and elongating and filling up their mouth. Flies crawl over their tongue and out of their mouth, burst out of freshly formed pustules on their skin. 

And then they’re fully demonic; surrounded by flies, their skin rotting off in patches, boils sprawling across their face. They’ve even exposed their wings - a rare thing to bother with, but if they’re showing off, they’re going to do it all the way. 

Beelzebub’s wings have changed over the years, no longer the soft feathers God had once given them all. Now they’re stretched thin, transparent, like feathers made of fly wings. Beelzebub unfurls them, lets them catch the light Gabriel summoned and throw twisted shadows on the surrounding tombstones. 

This is one of those things a demon shouldn’t be doing. It’s been a good few centuries since you could just wander around with all the evidence of your crimes against God on your face for anyone to see. They put regulations in for this. To intentionally not pass yourself off as a human was to declare yourself to have bad intentions, and that meant any nearby angels had free reign to slam down with all the holy power they could muster. 

And here’s Lord Beelzebub themself, in front of Supreme Archangel Gabriel, making sure there’s no question about exactly what they are. And not only is there no fear, Beelzebub doesn’t even feel the need to be challenging about it. They feel no need to brace themself, to meet Gabriel’s eyes and dare him to turn away in disgust. 

And Gabriel doesn’t. His eyes are glowing violet and his own wings blur into existence, and the two of them are spotlighted, their wings catching and throwing the light at each other. The rest of Earth seems to have disappeared and it’s just them now, in all of existence. 

Gabriel reaches out one hand and flies swirl around his wrist as he cups his palm against Beelzebub’s cheek, his thumb running gently along a patch of rot. “You’re stunning,” he says softly. 

And it isn’t… Beelzebub has never been insecure about their appearance. They’re intimidating and horrifying and know how to put on a disguise (which is more than can be said for at least half of their people) and that’s what being a demon is all about. They’re proud, if anything. And they certainly aren’t wondering about humans or angels finding them attractive. 

But once, a long, long time ago, Beelzebub was an angel. They had once crowded at God’s feet and shouted with delight as the universe formed around them. That had been stunning. Beings who had been present at the birth of everything didn’t use words like stunning and awe-inspiring lightly. 

They lean into Gabriel’s touch, feeling a smile on their mouth they hadn’t thought about making. It’s like a small miracle in its own right, how often that happens around Gabriel. As though a smile is the expression that belongs on their face, not a snarl or the slack-jaw of boredom. 

“You’re rather nice on the eyes yourself,” Beelzebub returns. “I like purple.” 

Gabriel’s smile gets a little smugger and Beelzebub laughs. Gabriel’s free hand falls to their shoulder and his fingers slip into the tangle of their hair. “Your laugh is the most beautiful sound in the universe,” he says. 

Beelzebub remembers the singing of the morning stars, remembers how lovely God’s voice had sounded, back in the beginning, before everything had gone - quite literally - to Hell. Remembers sounds so beautiful you could cry at the way they filled you up. 

And not one of those sounds compares to Gabriel’s voice right now. “I could stay like this for eternity,” Beelzebub says, voice quiet, carried up by the buzzing of their flies. 

“Me too,” Gabriel replies, and he bends forward, touching their foreheads together. 

It isn’t eternity, in the end, because they don’t have that luxury. It isn’t even hours, because these meetings are crowded into their already busy schedules, around complaints and demands and paperwork and battles that just don’t feel worth fighting any longer. They drop their disguises back into place and the night feels grayer for it. They squeeze each other’s hands and hold on longer than is necessary, even as they pull away. 

“See you soon,” Gabriel says, stepping away like it pains him. 

“As soon as possible,” Beelzebub returns. 

It won’t be soon enough. It never is anymore. 

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, aftermath of hideout raid

Author's Note: Okay a lot happens this chapter but bear with me, I’m speedrunning to the smut because I promised within 3 chapters and I’m trying to fucking deliver. I originally wanted to have reader also be teleported away with Bakugo since it would be closer to the canon, as AFO tp’d bakugo since Shiggy thought he was important. I went with this instead because the other idea did not translate well in writing. Waaaayy too much action for a fic, I’ll take a plot hole instead, thank you very much. You guys pick if you drink tea or coffee (if you drink neither I'm sorry lol). Anyways, rambling aside, I hope you enjoy

Word Count: 8.1K

Link to AO3

Chapter Eight: Pizza Delivery!

Dabi can tell you’re much more distant now, no doubt because of what Compress said, or rather, what the league had done. You try to hide your feelings behind a mask of neutrality, but Dabi is perceptive. He’s good at reading people, especially you. You’ve spent so much time around him and you’ve occupied so much space in his head that it’s become second nature for him to memorize your face. Besides the fact that he’s noticed your face is no longer as carefree, it’s easy to see how much differently you’re acting towards him. You heal his hands over without any comments and your touch doesn’t linger on him a moment longer than necessary. You’ve completely withdrawn from him, it seems.

“Let him out of the marble in a minute, we need time to prepare,” Shigaraki orders. “Kurogiri, get the stuff.” 

Kurogiri nods and bows, leaving the room to fetch the required restraints. You watch in slight horror as he returns with a chair, hand restraints, and a full-body harness equipped with locks. They must really think this kid is a danger to them to go to those lengths. You weren’t even restrained like that when Shigaraki abducted you, but to be fair, your kidnapping was more spur of the moment and less planned out than this. If snatching this kid was the whole purpose of the mission, the LOV has been gearing up for at least a week. You remember hearing Magne say this plan will humiliate UA, and you know Shigaraki’s main goal is dismantling hero society. You’re not entirely sure how the two are connected, but there’s one thing you’re sure of: Shigaraki will use any methods necessary to achieve that goal. 

You’re glad you finished healing Dabi when you did. Touching him after seeing the methods they intend to use on a child would confuse you more than you already are. You want to ask him just what the hell was he thinking, why did he even agree to this, and what methods would he stoop down to in order to achieve his own goals. You want to know, no, you need to know, as if understanding would make the hurt go away and would repair your now tainted view of him. This situation makes you realize how far you’ve fallen, how desensitized to their crimes you’ve become. Seeing the league’s humanity and domesticity has done a number on your mind. What part do you play in this? Are you helping them commit these atrocities? Or are you really just looking out for yourself? The questions and racing thoughts burn through your emotional energy. You feel so damn drained. 

As confusing and depressing as your situation is right now, you have to ask yourself: What can you do right now? You don’t have the power to run away, to change their minds, to condemn their behavior, to break the kid out of captivity. But what you can do is heal the kid if he’s hurt, share with him what you’ve learned, and provide him with anything that could possibly be useful. If this kid has a fighting quirk, he has the best chance of getting out. If he manages to pull it off then maybe, just maybe, he could tell someone where you are. People aren’t looking for you because it looked like you either disappeared into thin air or ran off entirely without telling anyone. If the authorities know where to look and who you’re with, it’s possible you can get out sooner. The moral dilemmas will come after you’ve made it out, but not a moment sooner. Carrying on is all you can do besides give the kid all the tools to escape. 

While you’re in your own head rationalizing everything, Dabi takes notice of you. He sees the gears turning in your head and the expressions of sadness that accompany them. It wrenches his chest, a bit, to see you so despondent and to experience you acting so distant. He’s grown used to the banter you share. Your laughs, smiles, and mischievous expressions have become simple pleasures he looks forward to after a long day of tainting his hands and staining his soul. All good things must come to an end, he’s especially cognizant of that fact of life. Still, it stings to know the good slice of his life that is you will be ripped away from him so soon. He convinces himself it’s for the best. Growing closer to you is a distraction from his life’s purpose. Losing you is part of the price tag that comes with buying into revenge. 

The two of you are stirred out of your thoughts upon Kurogiri setting everything up under Shigaraki’s orders. The chair is placed on the opposite side of the room, far away from everyone else. With all the restraints weaved through the chair legs and backrest, it won’t be easy for this kid to just break free of the bindings. Shigaraki gives the go-ahead, allowing Compress to release his quirk. The kid emerges from the marble and lays out on the floor, unconscious. Seeing the kid completely unresponsive makes you sick. Intrusive thoughts make you picture this poor kid getting knocked out before his abduction, which only worsens your spiraling mind. 

“Well that’s definitely Bakugo Katsuki,” Shigaraki comments. “Why’s he knocked out though? I told you all to not harm the target.”

“Looks like he fell asleep in that marble,” Compress reasons. “He was unharmed when he went in, but he’s been compressed for an hour or two. I suspect he was bored in there.” You find yourself feeling somewhat relieved upon hearing this information. 

“I guess this is to our benefit. He’ll be easier to restrain this way,” Shigaraki settles. “Kurogiri, you do it. If he wakes up, you know what to do.” Kurogiri follows his orders and gently places Bakugo in the chair, clasping all the restraints around him. It’s kind of amazing how he’s able to sleep through it all.

‘This kid is one hell of a heavy sleeper,’ you think. 

“Since he’s still asleep, we’ll go over what happens next,” Shigaraki announces.

“Should we really do this in earshot of him? If he wakes up, he’ll hear everything,” Dabi criticizes. 

“Well we can’t just leave him alone,” Shigaraki refutes. 

“Look at him, do you really think he’ll be able to get out of that?” Dabi points out. Shigaraki seems to consider the idea, though he doesn’t budge quite yet. “It’s your call, but I think this is stupid either way.”

“Fine! We’ll talk about it in the kitchen,” Shigaraki throws his hands up and relents. The rest of the league files out of the room. You’re about to follow before Shigaraki singles you out. “And you,” he points at you. “Go to your room.”

“Me? What did I do?” You ask, incredulously. Somehow this feels like a punishment. 

“I’m not risking you breaking out the kid and ruining my plans while we’re busy,” he justifies. “You’re going upstairs.” 

“Okay mom, how long am I grounded for then?”

“Until I say so. Go fuck off to your room, now,” he warns, crimson eyes glaring at you in annoyance. His tone and choice of words let you know he’s in no mood for your antics or sarcasm today. Shigaraki seems tense. This plan of his is evidently high stakes, but so is yours. You take the warning and head up the stairs, pretending to go into your room. Your feet stop just short of the top of the stairs, carefully peering around the corner and listening out. 

Shigaraki pulls them all to another room to start discussing the plan, detailing the reason why he asked for Bakugo’s kidnapping. You’re ever thankful that the league tends to be loud as it makes your intentions much easier to pull off. You slip past the door and carefully tiptoe to the kid. Your luck must finally be turning, as you see the kid slowly start to regain consciousness. He blinks a few times, carmine eyes adjusting to the light. You see a flash of panic on his face upon seeing the new environment and feeling the restraints constricting his body. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you. Did they hurt you?” You whisper, expressing your condolences. He seems to be a fiery kid, as his face twists in a sneer. 

“Get the fuck away from me, wench,” the blonde kid bites. You back up and raise your arms, despite the fact he’s completely tied to a chair. You’re starting to see the intimidation factor that seems to surround this kid. 

“Woah there, I’m like you, kid. I don’t want to be here either, they kidnapped me too,” you negotiate carefully. 

“So what, you just decided to fight for them after they kidnapped you? That’s pretty pathetic if you ask me,” he insults. Your eyebrow twitches. You’re trying to help him, does this kid really need to rub salt in the wound?

“One, I didn’t ask you. Two, I can’t fight, I’m here because of my healing quirk. And three, I’m trying to help you,” you lecture. 

“Oh,” he says, in a rather small voice. It’s clear the kid is at least a little ashamed of his outburst. 

“Yeah, jump to conclusions much?” You sass. You try to reign in your exasperation and approach the situation gently. “Now, one more time, are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine, they barely even scratched me. Though that one stapled guy had a death grip on my neck,” he complains. Your heart drops at the revelation.

“Sounds like Dabi,” you inform, trying to cover up your saddened tone. You push your emotions to the side and focus on helping the kid. A quick visual pass over his neck doesn’t reveal any injuries, thankfully. “I don’t see any bruises, so it looks like you’re okay.” 

“How long have you been here?” He asks. You can almost detect the faintest bit of sympathy in his voice.

“You know, now that you mention it… I’ve kinda lost track,” you say somberly. “But that doesn’t matter right now. Do you know if your friends or teachers see it happen? If they know why you’re gone and who took you, they’re probably already looking for you as we speak.”

“Oh they saw everything alright,” he snorts. You’re surprised at that, you would have figured with all the sneaky quirks up their sleeve that the LOV would have done this stealthily. Though, remembering how Magne remarked that this plan was supposed to humiliate UA, which you’ve come to realize is a school, makes you see that stealth was never the point. 

“I have a feeling the heroes will at least try to rescue you, but if you have a strong quirk, you might be able to make your own way,” you explain. “But listen to me, do not brute force an escape. Take the opportunity if it presents itself, but don’t put yourself in danger. If you get out and I don’t, keep going. You can just tell the heroes where I am.” 

“Like I’d leave a civilian with them. I wouldn’t be a hero-in-training if I just left you here. We’ll break out of here and pummel those bastards, I promise!” he says with conviction. His spitfire personality grows on you a bit in that moment. Even though he was a little rude to you at first, you still want to help him any way you can. You fill him in on what you’ve learned about the league, mostly giving him information about all their quirks and potential weaknesses. The league’s chatter in the other room seems to slowly die down. With the remaining time you have, you warn him not to attack and that subtly is safer, to which he seems incredibly appalled by.  

“I’m not much of a faker,” he says with pride. “I make my own opening, my way.” 

“We’ll talk about why that’s such a terrible idea later, I gotta go back before they notice,” You hurriedly advise. “You gotta pretend you didn’t see me, alright? I wasn’t supposed to be down here with you.” He gives you an understanding nod and you take the chance to scurry away. You’re actually thankful you’ve been at the league’s base for so long, as you’ve recognized which floorboards creak the most and which path is the quietest. You slip away and head to your room, unnoticed. It’s incredibly lucky that you haven’t been caught scheming. Your ears strain to pick up on everyone’s footfalls until the sounds become more clear, before eventually stopping entirely. It seems they’re done with the debriefing process and are back in the bar. 

“Y/n! Shigaraki said you’re not grounded anymore!” Toga calls out. You don’t hesitate to take the opportunity and you head downstairs, joining the others. Everyone seems to be staring at Bakugo in either anticipation or caution. They seem to avoid getting near his space, as evident by the distance between Bakugo and the others. The atmosphere is incredibly tense, no doubt due to the seething expression on Bakugo’s face. An uneasy silence settles in the room. Even the more talkative members of the LOV refrain from talking. Shigaraki is the one to speak first, breaking the silence and establishing his control over the situation. 

“Dabi, take off his restraints,” Shigaraki commands.

“You know he’s just going to try to fight us, right?” Dabi asks, doubtful of his leader’s plan.

“It’s fine, if we’re scouting him, we need to treat him like equals,” Shigaraki dismisses.  Shigaraki’s words fail to convince him. 

Dabi looks at the kid, sizing him up. He must not like what he sees as he offloads the responsibility onto Twice. “Twice, you do it.”

“Why me?!” Twice exclaims. Even he doesn’t seem too thrilled about the idea.

“Just do it,” Dabi insists, exasperated by Twice’s hesitance. 

“No way,” Twice denies with exaggerated gestures, before dropping the resistance entirely. Twice ends up walking over to Bakugo and unlocking all the restraints. You try to shoot him a look as a reminder about what the two of you secretly discussed: don’t be stupid and do something obvious. The warning is lost on the kid as he ignores your intense gaze and lunges for Shigaraki. An explosion hits the leader in the face, clouding him in a bit of smoke. The kid quickly backs away from Shigaraki’s space, taking advantage of the initial shock.

You stare at Bakugo, dumbfounded, with an expression that can only communicate, ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ 

You feel yourself sweating out of stress. Shigaraki seems completely stunned, but despite his initial lack of reaction, you find yourself growing anxious upon realizing that his hand mask is on the floor. You’ve never seen him take it off. He’s gotta be especially protective over that thing. Bakugo seems to be eyeing the situation, eyes darting back and forth between everyone, clearly cooking up a plan to escape. It’s then you realized you forgot to tell him all the doors are locked. You feel a dawning horror invade your emotions. This is going terribly and you can’t help but feel it’s all your fault. 

To your surprise, Shigaraki doesn’t respond with malice. Rather, he commands for everyone to leave the kid unharmed. He specifically instructs Compress and Kurogiri to put him back to sleep. The mercy the LOV leader is showing is incredibly unlike him, but welcome nonetheless. Shigaraki’s orders make you release the breath you were holding and relax. Still, you don’t tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding, staying alert in case you can help the kid out in some way. Compress carefully begins to approach Bakugo. The kid sizes up the situation and seems to brace himself for the chance he could dodge Compress. 

A knock on the door makes everyone halt in their places, momentarily pausing the confrontation. “Pizza delivery!” A voice says from behind the door. The league members look at each other in skepticism. 

“Did one of you idiots order a fucking pizza, I swear to god-“ Shigaraki questions, cut off by a loud crash that sounds off to the right of them. You turn to look, seeing the wall blown in by people donned in capes and bodysuits. The sight makes you want to cry in relief. It’s the heroes, the two of you are saved. You even see All Might amongst the heroes, the man who’s known internationally for being the unbeatable symbol of peace. You just hope that All Might remains unstoppable in the face of the League of Villains. The heroes don’t hesitate a second longer, as everyone springs into action. Tree branches reach for all the villains, ensnaring everyone, including you. It's then you realize how your situation must look from the outside. The heroes think you’re a villain.

Fuck.

How do you convince them you’re not a threat when there’s not even time for you to speak?

A flash of blue fire erupts from Dabi’s head. If the heroes don’t neutralize his quirk, he’ll definitely burn the branches restraining you all until nothing remains but ash. You were hopeful you’d get out of here, but you’re feeling doubtful now. The situation is incredibly hectic and ever-changing. A flash of yellow zooms past you, moving far too fast for your eyes to fully comprehend. When you turn your head, you catch sight of an old man in a yellow cape kicking Dabi on the back of the head. Dabi’s eyes seem to roll back and he slumps forward into the branches. The scene makes you absolutely dumbstruck. Dabi is knocked out cold.

With Dabi ‘dispatched’, his flames are no longer an issue. The only blaring issue that remains to you is figuring out how to convince the heroes you aren’t a criminal. You’re not really given an opportunity, as All Might’s booms over yours. The sheer volume of his voice commands the room, there’s no way you can speak over him. All Might is completely focused on Bakugo, fussing over him like a concerned parent. They have a quick, heart-to-heart conversation, something about how terrifying it must have been for Bakugo to handle this on his own. Even in such a sincere moment, Bakugo’s personality shines through, as he vehemently denies ever feeling scared at all. The heroes are gloating as Shigaraki seethes at the scene, twitching from rage. You swear your eyes catch sight of something in the air, some red string that keeps catching the light. You’re straining to see what it is when the thread thickens. A face emerges from the thread, startling you. You’d jump on the spot if you weren’t completely immobilized. 

“Oh? Who’s this? It appears our intel failed to find out a new villain joined their ranks,” the face muses. You open your mouth to counter his accusation, but you’re beaten to the point. 

“Edgeshot, she’s not a villain!” Bakugo yells. “She’s just a civilian.” 

“Not only did you abduct my pupil, but a civilian too?” All Might condemns, before confidently continuing. “It’s over. The childish pranks end now.”

All Might’s words must have enraged Shigaraki and pulled him out of his stunned stupor. Shigaraki shouts orders at Kurogiri to open up a warp gate, but the heroes have thought ahead. Kurogiri is pierced through the abdomen by who you understand is the hero Edgeshot, and promptly slumps over, Kurogiri’s body seemingly completely limp. You’re aghast in horror until the hero reappears from the thread and claims to have merely put him to sleep. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, with constant ups and downs, getting scared and worried just to feel slightly more at ease before the cycle happens again. 

All Might seems to ask Shigaraki a question, something that seems important to the heroes, but you don’t pay it any mind. You can’t seem to focus on their conversation. Something just seems off. It appears there’s something in certain spots of the air that distorts, rippling in a way that’s reminiscent of water. You know it’s not the thread hero again, as he’s already materialized. These distortions are much different anyways. It’s almost like a dark spot is appearing, floating in space. Your suspicions are confirmed as black ooze seems to drip down out of thin air. The viscous mixture seems to grow in size as it pours down until you see pale limbs reaching out. Strange, humanoid beings come out of the sludge. Several of them have their brains exposed and completely uncovered by a skull. You feel sick just at the sight of something so unnatural and grotesque. What the hell are these things? 

Whatever summoned these creatures takes advantage of the chaos. Black sludge erupts from the mouths of all LOV members. It encases the villains in a shroud of darkness and their bodies disappear into the inky depths, without a trace and leaving behind empty space where they were once restrained by branches. Bakugo seems to have been transported out of the room as well. His disappearance causes All Might to frantically yell upon failing to grab him. You’re shocked to see the hero look so caught off guard and genuinely emotional. He’s always been known to smile even in the face of danger. The fact he’s so openly shouting in distress is more than alarming. 

You’re even more taken aback when you see the creatures begin to lunge for the heroes, forcing All Might and the rest to fight back. It’s clear to you that whatever the hell these monsters are, they’re far from friendly and they are numerous. The creatures seem to be even outside of the bar, as evident by the shrills of terror. It sounds terrible out there, you can hear screams, bullets, and the sound of fighting. 

As you watch the scene unfold, your eyes accidentally make eye contact with a monster. One seems to turn in your direction and hone in on you. Your wide eyes stare in horror at the creature as it rushes towards you. It leaps and lunges at you. You flinch and screw your eyes shut, unable to do anything else besides steel yourself for the inevitable. The wooden hero creates a wall of branches between you and the monster, blocking off its attack. 

“There’s too many! Kamui, get her out of here!” You overhear Edgeshot shout. Kamui, who you’ve come to realize is the tree hero, follows Edgeshot’s orders. The branches pull you from the room and out from the gaping hole in the wall, away from the chaos and combat. You’re lifted onto a nearby roof, still tightly bound by Kamui’s quirk. He stands near the edge of the building, seemingly scanning the surroundings, probably looking for a safer place to deliver you. You look over the streets as well, seeing destruction everywhere you look. It’s clear there’s no escape from the turmoil just yet. You catch his heroic posture faltering, with his shoulders drooping ever so slightly. No words are shared between the two of you as you both wait for the conflict to die down, unable to tear your eyes away from the morbid scene. 

Eventually, enough bullets are spent and enough blood has been shed, as the strange creatures are put down. Kamui makes the descent down from the roof with you in tow. You’re delivered in front of a flaming hero, with a permanent scowl on his face, conversing with a police officer. Their attention immediately snaps to you. The large, flaming man looks at you with disinterest, but the officer seems perplexed by you. 

“And who is this supposed to be?” The hero grills Kamui.

“Don’t know, we saw her in the base with the League of Villains,” he answers. “Kid believes she’s a civilian.” 

“Civilian, huh? That’s rich,” the flame hero scoffs. The hero turns his attention to the police officer and gives him an order. “Put the quirk cuffs on her, we’ll process her like any other villain until we have actual evidence saying otherwise.” 

 The police officer looks skeptical and doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, his eyes narrow at you and he looks at you with vague recognition. The hero takes notice of his hesitance and asks, clearly annoyed, “What’s the hold-up?”

“Endeavor, with all due respect, I don’t believe she is a villain,” the policeman objects. 

“Don’t tell me even you are falling for this ruse,” the hero sneers. “She was surely a part of some plan to trick the student. She probably lied to him and posed as another victim in order to gain his trust.”

“I worked a case a while back. A University student went missing without a trace. She matches the description,” he informs. The hero, who you assume is named Endeavor, remains unconvinced. The officer sighs, and compromises, “Look, we could ask her some questions, and if her answers match, then she’s actually a civilian and telling the truth.” Endeavor seems to think it over, relenting upon seeing the officer’s determined expression. 

“Fine, ask your stupid questions, but she’s going to Tartarus if her answers don’t check out. Mark my words,” Endeavor warns. The officer gives a curt nod and turns to you. 

“What’s your first name?” He opens. 

“Y/n,” you answer. 

“And your quirk?” 

“Healing skin.” 

“Seems like her,” the officer gloats. Endeavor remains skeptical, as is evident with his narrowed eyes and mouth pressed in a scowl.  

Endeavor counters the officer’s claim, “Couldn’t she be pretending to be your missing university student? If it was all over the news-”

“It wasn’t,” the officer interrupts. “So many people go missing in this district that one more hardly makes the news. It’s her, there’s not a doubt in my mind.” 

“What were you doing with the League of Villains?” Endeavor interrogates. He seems incredibly suspicious of you. You suppose you can’t really blame him. Edgeshot assumed you were in cahoots with the league back at the hideout. From an outsider’s perspective, you really did look suspect. Still, you have an opportunity to clear your name. The most you can do is tell your story and hope they believe you.

“Shigaraki knocked me out when I ran into him one night. When I woke up, I realized I had been kidnapped,” you explain. “He liked my quirk and thought I’d be useful. If I didn’t heal the league like he asked, he said he’d disintegrate me.” 

Endeavor lets out an exhausted sigh, before rubbing his temples with one hand. “Take her to HPSC headquarters. The commission is gonna want to hear about this,” he orders the officer. 

Kamui takes this as a sign to unhand you. He finally releases you from his quirk’s hold, much to your relief. The officer speaks into the radio on his suit, updating the situation and requesting a squad car, before leading you away. He escorts you away from the aftermath of the raid, guiding you through the scattered piles of debris, until you arrive at the police car, parked on an intact street with another officer waiting expectantly outside. The additional police officer opens the door to the backseat for you and you climb in, after which she shuts it behind you. Sounds of sirens and yelling are muffled in the car, giving you a momentary respite from all the commotion and the ability to finally process what happened.

You sit in the back of the squad car, contemplating everything that has happened while staring out the window. Just a few hours ago, you were healing the league and even laughing with them. After you realized they kidnapped a kid and then the heroes broke down the wall, everything seemed to just crash down at once. Somehow, you developed a sort of camaraderie with the lot, despite not subscribing to their goals and actively wishing to be away from them. You adapted to it. Life with the league became your new normal. But what will your normal be now? You doubt your life can just rewind back to the way it was before you were kidnapped, not since you escaped the clutches of the league. Speaking of, would they come back for you? Would they punish you for escaping? Would you ever see him again? These are questions you never thought to ask all the times you were fantasizing about fleeing. Now that you’re here, the questions are unavoidable and unfortunately, without answers. 

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don't care to listen to the officers radioing their superiors. You only process that they started the car when you see the scenery whizzing by. The drive to headquarters is simultaneously overwhelming yet quiet. The officers haven’t spoken a word to you since loading you into the car, leaving you to drown in your own head. 

You thought you’d be happy to see the outside again, but now that you’re here, it’s incredibly overstimulating. The lights are too bright, the buildings are too big, and the radio relaying updates is far too loud. Your hands ball up in your lap, knuckles turning white from your anxious clenching. You worry your time in captivity has ruined you, and the thought only serves to heighten your anxiety. 

The car eventually rolls up to a large building and parks on the curb. One of the officers opens your car door after getting out herself, and you step out and onto the sidewalk. They both lead you into the building, where they freely walk into the lobby, filled with heroes coming and going. The receptionist doesn’t bother to stop the officers, instead giving them a look of recognition and an understanding nod. You all shuffle into an elevator and rise to the top floor. The ascent is silent until the elevator dings and the metal doors slide open. You all step out of the elevator and into a sort of waiting area, where a man with crimson red wings greets the officers. They exchange polite greetings all the while you stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do in the situation. The pupils in the hero’s yellow eyes seem to narrow to slits when they dart to you, sizing you up with interest. 

“So this must be the little dove found at the hideout,” the feathered hero muses, as he looks at you. 

“You’d be correct,” the officer confirms. “We’re supposed to escort Miss y/n to the Safety Commission President. Would you know where she is around now?” 

“Don’t worry about it, I can take over from here. You two must have a mountain of paperwork after the Kamino raid, ” Hawks offers. They seem to be grateful for this, as you’re handed off to the bird-like hero. The police officers say their thanks before heading back down through the elevators, leaving you alone with yet another new person. 

“The name’s Hawks. Nice to meet you, y/n,” he introduces, rather informally. 

“Y-yeah, likewise,” you stutter, feeling a bit nervous in the company of a new stranger. “Um, Hawks?”

“Hmm?” He hums. 

“Why am I here?”

“You’ve piqued the interest of some very important people,” he explains. You must look worried as he quickly adds, “They just want to know about what happened to you and what you know, that sort of thing.”

“I see…” you reply, voice trailing off. 

You’re led through the halls and into a sort of conference room. Five strangers in formal business wear sit behind a slightly curved desk, arranged in a sort of panel. Hawks ushers you to the center of the room, leaving you to stand in front of them as he posts himself near the door. You’re not sure what is going on. Your palms start sweating from nervousness. It feels like you’re in a courtroom, on trial. One of the five people sitting behind the long table presses a button on what you assume is some sort of audio recording device. The questions feel endless, just one after another, all asking about the LOV. Over time, they seem less suspicious of you and your story, especially after explaining Shigaraki’s initial threats. The meeting, or rather, the interrogation ends with a question about Shigaraki and Dabi. 

“Do you know their real names? We have reason to suspect their current identifiers are just monikers. Nothing is known of their real identities. Anything you know could be useful,” one of them explains. You shake your head. 

“They never revealed their true names and I never cared to ask,” you inform. There’s a look of disappointment on her face before she shuts the recorder off. 

“I see. That’s a shame,” she responds. “As a precautionary measure, we’ve arranged for you to be housed in a safe location, where you will stay until the League of Villains is captured. It’s unlikely they will try to find you given the severe blow the raid inflicted on them, but please, bear with us until then. We appreciate your cooperation.”

The door clicks open and you take that as your cue to leave, eagerly walking out with Hawks trailing behind you. You’re relieved for the process to finally be over. That damn interrogation was anxiety-inducing to say the least. Your apparent discomfort must be noticeable to Hawks, no doubt from your loud sighs, as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“You alright?” Hawks asks. There’s this small hint of genuine concern in his voice, something you picked up on. From the interactions you’ve had with him, he always seems to have this sort of carefree and upbeat personality. 

“I will be,” you offer. You rub at your eyes, feeling the effects of your hectic day wearing down your energy. “Some sleep would help. I’ll probably feel a bit better in the morning.” 

“I hear ya,” he responds. “Come on, I’ll get you out of here so you can rest, follow me.” He notions to the elevators with a nod of his head in that direction, and proceeds to walk over. Hawks calls for the elevator and you follow him in when the doors open. He tucks his large wings closer to his body, so that they don’t take up as much space. You weren’t able to see he pushed the up button, so when the elevator rises to the roof access, revealing the night sky, you’re more than a little confused.

“I thought you were taking me out of here?” You ask.

“I am,” he responds, almost matter-of-factly. 

“But why are we on the roof?”

“Why walk when you could fly?” 

“Oh hell no,” you refuse. 

“I’m fast, it’ll be over before you know it,” he bargains. “It’s more secure this way anyways. You can’t be followed as easily.” 

“Okay, okay. Fine. Just… don’t drop me,” you relent, understanding his point. 

“I wouldn’t be a very good hero if I let you fall,” he laughs. “You’ll be fine, hold on tight.” 

He scoops you into his arms and you tightly cling to the fabric of his shirt. His wings flap, sending powerful gusts of wind, until you’re both lifted off the ground. The roof grows farther and farther away from you as he ascends into the sky. True to his words, he’s incredibly fast, as the skyscrapers seem to whizz by, almost blurring together. The experience is equal parts nerve-wracking, exhilarating, and freeing. It had been so long since you’d last seen the night sky, and now it feels like you’re seeing it much closer than ever before. Had you not been in the arms of a reliable hero, you’d be more scared-shitless and less naturally wary of this experience. 

He eventually lands on the roof of what looks to be an apartment high-rise. Your legs feel wobbly from the adrenaline when he finally sets you down. You’re thankful he gives you a few moments to recollect yourself, before showing you down a flight of stairs and into a hall of apartment doors. He opens the unlocked door to your provided room and ushers you in. 

“You should be safe here,” he assures. “Most of your neighbors are heroes. You’re in good hands, but just in case, I’ll be checking in every so often.” 

“Thank you, Hawks,” you say, relief clear in your voice. You offer him a grateful smile. 

“Don’t mention it,” he accepts. “Lock the doors and get some rest, you’ve more than earned it after what you went through.” You do as you’re told when he leaves your new apartment, turning the locks and deadbolt. Silence settles upon your new home as you’re left completely alone for the first time all night. The realization feels so foreign to you, as you remember how even at the LOV base, you were never truly left alone. There was always at least someone around you, some pair of eyes and ears attuned to you, preventing your escape. Despite how odd it feels, you press on and find your way to the bedroom. You immediately crawl into bed and fall asleep, still in your clothes, lacking the energy to even think about changing out of them. It’s when the bright light of the morning shines through your windows, waking you up, that you realize all your things were back at the LOV base. 

In the light of the day and now refreshed from sleep, you take the time to explore your new flat. The apartment is neither extremely big or claustrophobically small, instead sitting at a nice medium between the two extremes. It seems mostly fitted with all the necessities. When you look in the closet, you even find there’s already a small selection of neutral clothes, ranging in size. You reason they must keep this place preemptively stocked for cases such as yourself. 

You go about your morning, trying to ignore how odd it feels to be on your own for once. Going through the motions of showering, changing into comfortable clothes, and making breakfast seems to distract you from the feelings. When you’re out of things to add to your routine, you decide to turn on the news to understand what happened last night. The reporter goes over the major events of the hideout raid, most of which are things you already knew, though, both you and the public alike are left in the dark as to what those strange monsters were. Your knee bounces nervously upon just seeing those things again. The reporter then updates the public on what happened to Bakugo. You feel immense relief upon seeing the news reporter happily report that the UA student has been returned unharmed. 

Your doorbell rings, tearing your attention away from the segment. Suspicious, you slowly walk to the door, peering through the peephole. Through the fish-eyed glass, you’re able to see a familiar shock of blonde hair and red wings waiting patiently at your step. You let out a relieved sigh and unlock the door to allow Hawks into your home. 

“Heyo,” he greets. “How’s the new place treating you?” 

“It’s nice, definitely beats staying at the hideout,” you answer. “Say, speaking of, will I be able to get anything back from there?”

“Yeah, about that, I have some bad news,” he starts. Hawks informs you that damage done to the LOV’s base meant that almost all of your belongings were destroyed. Not much was salvageable in the aftermath. Speaking of the aftermath, he warns you that the heroes have been unable to apprehend the league yet. Their current whereabouts are completely unknown. Despite this, Hawks assures you that it was unlikely the LOV should seek you out again, given the rationality that there are other healers out there and they were dealt a huge loss. You suppose it made sense, but you can’t shake the concern. 

“So what does this all mean for me?” You ask. 

“Well, until they’re found, you’ll have to stay here,” he explains. 

“I guess that’s not so bad,” you accept. “This place is much closer to (campus/work) so my walk won’t be as bad.” He grimaces at your comment, clearly knowing something you don’t.

“No, you literally have to stay here. Unless it’s an emergency, you can’t leave. I’ll be dropping by to check in on you every few days though, so you won’t be completely alone, at least,” he clarifies. Your face drops at the information.

 “Oh! Before I forget,” he adds, seemingly remembering something. He pulls a phone from his jacket pocket, one that looks extremely familiar. “I also managed to grab your phone from the evidence locker. The police took it from the scene of your disappearance. You can call your family or friends, let them know you’re alive. I’m sure they’ve been worried about you.” You accept your phone from his hand. Although your phone is dead, you’re sure there’ll be a million calls on your lock screen once it’s turned on.

“Yeah, I’m sure they have,” you agree, a bit solemnly.

“Just… don’t tell them where you are. It’d defeat the whole purpose of hiding you from the league, you know?” You nod, accepting those terms. It’s ironic, you think, how you were supposedly freed, yet you were not granted freedom. You were still locked away, prevented from leaving. Yes, you understood the rationale behind it, but that didn’t mean it erased the fact the situation felt eerily familiar. 

Hawks would do regular check-ins. First a couple times a day, then once a day, until slowing down to every two days. When he had the time, he’d stay a little longer to talk and the two of you would hang out in your living room. You got to know the now number two hero fairly well from all those moments. The two of you mostly made small talk, though there were some moments in which you two seemed to genuinely laugh at some stupid joke or share the same opinions on a controversial topic. Sometimes, he’d ask about what your life in the league was like. You were (mostly) honest with him about it, telling him stories about your interactions with everyone. It was a bit fun to see his eyes widen in shock when you recounted some of the things you said to Shigaraki. He seemed a bit aghast to know you made such snarky comments and survived to tell the tale. But, you always were careful to conveniently leave out the details about Dabi. You weren’t sure what he, and the HPSC, would do if they heard you nearly made out with a wanted villain. Some things were better left unsaid.

 When you weren’t accompanied by Hawks in your home, you’d spend your time distracting yourself rather than unpacking what happened. Without a therapist, you’d get nowhere. You’d rather bide your time rather than spiral into blaming yourself or justifying the league. You fear it has already begun with your cynicism towards the HPSC, which is why you desperately wish to talk to someone you can trust. Not only that, but your dreams were often about Dabi. Despite what he had done, you seem to still hold a fondness for him. You still desired him. These dreams confused you to no end, but you were never able to rationalize them. It was frustrating, to be locked away, supposedly in safety, but not even granted the ability to talk to a professional about what happened to you. The HPSC claimed due to the high-profile nature of this case, you’d have to wait until the LOV was in custody before you could begin your visits. They seemed to defend their actions by claiming a therapist leaking your case would draw attention to their investigation and endanger you by confirming where you are. Not only that, but they said the risk of Twice’s clones or Toga infiltrating your appointments was too high to justify. 

Over time, the weeks of isolation slowly turned into a few months, the passage of time aided by endless distractions. You were starting to get in the swing of things. Being alone no longer felt as foreign, it was becoming natural again. Unfortunately, your whole routine was about to be disrupted. Unbeknownst to you, miles away in Deika City, Shigaraki begins plotting something. A plan to shake up the confidence of the hero commission, starting with you.  

“The heroes took something from me. I need to teach them a lesson in stealing what is mine,” Shigaraki states to his lieutenants in the PLF army. “It’s time to return our healer.” And with his command, the plans are set in motion. 

Hours later and back to your place, you hear a knock on your door. Figuring it must be Hawks, you shout from your kitchen, “Hold on, I’m coming!” You make your way to the foyer, not bothering to look through the peephole and  open the door. Instead of meeting with Hawks, there’s another hero at your doorstep. 

“You’re not who I was expecting,” you say, a bit suspiciously. “Normally someone else checks in on me, has this changed?”

“Oh, just for today. I’m just filling in. You know how busy us heroes are!” He answers. 

“R-right, I suppose the hero lifestyle can get hectic,” You mumble. You still can’t shake your suspicion.

 “H-hey, do you mind showing me your quirk? It’s part of the protocol, you know, to make sure there’s no imposters,” you lie. 

“Oh, my bad! I must have missed that part of the report,” the hero apologizes. He buys your lie, which seems a bit suspect, but he shows you his quirk nonetheless. “Slidin’ Go, signature slide!” He slides on the floor, without resistance. Pretty useless quirk, in your opinion, but given how he can still use it, he’s not Toga. You doubt Twice could have obtained all the measurements of a hero that’s not declared missing, so there’s no concern in your mind it’s a clone. Relief washes over you and you wonder why you were so jumpy in the first place.

 It’s safe. 

You’re safe. 

Everything is okay.

“You mind letting me in? Just need to do a check around, make sure you’re actually alone and all,” he requests. You suppose that’s what Hawks has been doing when he hangs over. It makes sense, but it stings to know the social contact you had was all due to a protocol. 

“Oh, right, sorry. Come on in,” you agree. You open the door and allow him to enter inside. He looks around your apartment, walking from the entryway down the hall until he stops at your living room. Your (tea kettle/coffee maker) sounds off from your kitchen. The suddenness startles you momentarily. You shut the door behind you and pad past him down the hall. “Sorry, I was in the middle of making (tea/coffee). Just one moment,” you excuse, awkwardly. 

“No worries, take your time. I’ll be in the living room while you do that!” He cheerily dismisses. You offer him a polite nod before trotting off to your kitchen, pouring your drink into a mug and carrying it with you. 

When you return to the living room, you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. Concerning, but not enough to make you panic. What does make you start sweating is seeing puddles of a gray, clay-like substance on the carpet. Your stomach instantly drops, and your mug slips out of your hands, further sullying the carpet. You remember that conversation between Toga and Muscular, how Toga’s quirk leaves behind pale silt. 

FUCK.

Since when could Toga use other quirks?!

You’re about to bolt for the door to attempt to run away when you feel arms gripping your waist. You look down and see no other than Toga. 

‘Holy shit, she’s gotten so much stronger,’ you think, the realization stirring up a panic in you. You try to wriggle out of her grasp, but she just doesn’t budge. She quickly snakes one arm to the collar of her shirt and speaks into it. 

“Mission accomplished!” She announces, to whom, you’re not quite sure. You’re not left with time to think about it, as you feel an odd sensation rise up your throat. Black sludge pours out of your mouth, enveloping you entirely in darkness. The sensation is nothing short of gross and uncomfortable. You’re thankful it doesn’t last for long, but when your lungs finally clear of the substance, you realize you’ve been transported somewhere completely unfamiliar to you. 

“Looks like Toga managed to pull it off after all,” you hear a familiar, smoky voice drawl. The recognition is instant. Your body freezes and your eyes trail over to the source. You lock eyes with none other than Dabi. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, y/n?” 

Your mouth feels dry, but you speak anyway. “It has.”

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I’m so sorry for spamming you but my mind is racing with ideas: you put the Life of Bucky Barnes Bucky NSFW art back on my dash and for the first time I thought… who’s taking the picture, Bucky??

And then I thought… maybe they’re recording a sex tape to fuck each other to later. Maybe Bucky will sit behind Steve with Steve’s limbs immobilized, slooowly stroking Steve’s cock as they watch Steve whimper like a whore on the TV, watch how Bucky sunk his teeth into Steve’s chest and shoulder until Steve cried, watch how Bucky rode Steve until Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head.

And the other possibilities… both of them always having a bit of an exhibitionist streak, but they’re possessive enough that it’s really only with each other. Steve used to have Bucky fuck him from behind in front of a mirror so Steve could frantically sketch them before it got to be too much and he had to bury his face in the sheets. Maybe Bucky saved up for months for a second-hand camera and the chemicals to make their own dark room so he could take pictures of his dick stretching Steve’s rim or Steve’s cock in his mouth.

Oh how wonderful the modern world is when it’s so much easier to satisfy these desires, save pieces of each other to enjoy whenever they want.

related to this

Don't apologize! I'm loving this--I love hearing all your ideas.

Ooh, that's a good thought 👀 I've never had that before either. I must've just filed it away as a timer or tripod or something subconsciously, lol.

I fucking love the idea of that drawing being a screenshot from the middle of their sex tape. Like, goddamn, that is perfect.

And then you added on even more perfection in the form of them using the sex tape for later. Woof.

I am obsessed with the idea of power bottom Bucky that you've insinuated here--he's the one riding Steve until his eyes roll back into his head, overwhelmed, and he's the one sinking his teeth into his pale skin, biting until he's bruised, pink and soft and vulnerable like a ripe peach. Bucky is the one that's making Steve feel so good in the video, and he's the one denying Steve of physical pleasure in the moment.

Because of Bucky, Steve is now restrained in front of the TV, watching himself on the big screen. As much as he can, he's squirming, his dick is hard and leaking, aching to be shoved in the tight, wet space of Bucky's fever-hot body, and he's so fucking turned on that even though Bucky hasn't touched them, his nipples are hard, tight peaks. He's slick with sweat. Hair matted to his forehead. Panting. Eyes glued to the screen. Straining to hear every desperate pant, every whore-ish whimper, every slutty moan, and every filthy word or sentence that spills over from Bucky's mouth like thick, intoxicating liquor.

Yeah, Steve is taking in every pixel of pleasure he received as he gets, right now, absolutely none.

Any pleasure he does think he gets... it's all in his head. Unreal. The memory of how the touches felt. The way his nerves twitched and melted. The fire under his skin. The tightening of his muscles. The loss of thoughts, replaced entirely with nothing but, "Bucky, Bucky, Bucky BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBucky--"

So, by the time they've watched for long enough for the big finish of the video to be approaching, Bucky barely has to wrap up Steve's cock and stroke him once, twice, three times before he's shooting off. Hard enough to see stars with a scream ripping from his chest. Fighting the restraints. Unspeakably worn out, replaying every part of the past experience with the details of this moment--immobilized, spread thin, denied, worn down until Bucky could've breathed on his hurting cock and he would've exploded.

It's exhaustion in the most satisfying way 😮‍💨

Your other possibilities are also very, very delicious, but, goddamn, I couldn't help but latch onto the first one. I do love the idea of Bucky having a secret dark room back in the day, too. I wonder if those photos could've ossibly survived... I'm sure that'd jog Bucky's memory in the future if he found them in Steve's possessions in their shared apartment in the new century 👀

Thank you for sharing!

[animeismyhappyplace]

The Corruption of Raphael Begins Here

Raphael x female MC smut

MC and Raphael are hidden in his bedroom as she starts to corrupt him with her heavenly mouth and tongue. They can only hope no one finds them alone in such a naughty position.

Word Count: 1,115

TW: Male receiving oral, very light bondage, a few uses of pet names, descriptive and messy blow job, Angel corruption, a hint of almost being caught

The thoughts of corrupting an Angel are intoxicating, the thoughts of corrupting an Angel as stoic and unmovable as Raphael fills her naughty human heart with absolute joy and lust. Lust so powerful she could give Amso a run for his money.

She could never have imagined in her wildest dreams that she'd find herself in Purgatory Hall settled between the frosty Angel's thighs as they shake and stutter at her movements, she has his wrists twisted behind his back wrapped with golden silk which only adds to the poor Angel's torture.

She has his white pants pushed off his thighs to give her better access as she grasps the base of Raphael's thick cock, giving the flushed head soft kitten licks. His gentle keening whines fill her ears as he wriggles in his restraints which makes the devious human grin in satisfaction "S- Stop teasing me you utterly unruly human" His disgruntled comment makes a giggle course through her throat as she smoothes a hand along his thigh "Calm Raph, we will get to the good part soon enough" Her devious smile reminds him far too much of a demon as he fears how much sway she holds over him, that her sweetened words could bring him to her mercy so quickly.

To save her poor lover more torment she decides to finally flatten her tongue against the underside of his long shaft, taking her time to lather her spit against every ridge and vein so she can memorise which of her actions draw the most sounds from his usually quiet disposition. Raphael can't help but tip his head back against his plush pillows as she starts to please him, she uses her small hands to grip and push his thighs to open him up to her greedy eyes as she drinks in his form "You're so fucking pretty Raph~" She can't help but utter in awe as he whines trying to shimmy his hips towards her the best he can with the loss of his hands.

Raphael shakes his head slightly as a blush shoots across his face, at this point she decides she's had enough of her own teasing licking her tongue back up his throbbing shaft as she takes the head of his cock into her mouth sucking up his pre cum greedily as she licks across his slit in soft but fast movements. She licks her tongue down his length to his swollen balls giving them a gently lick before taking them into her mouth and suckling on them as carefully as she can shooting pleasure up the Angel's spine. She toys for a moment with the idea of sliding her tongue down further to his puckered hole before deciding he might not be ready for that just yet as she moves back to his weeping head.

He's never felt sensations like this before and it makes him realise in that moment why humans sin so often, of course they do if it feels as godly as this and he can't help the whines and grunts that tumble out of his mouth while she gives his abused head one last long suck before she releases his cock head with a pop. She licks her lips at his taste moaning softly "I never knew Angels tasted soo sweet, I'd have devoured you weeks ago if I had known" MC can't help her teasing tone when he's being so responsive in this moment, more responsive than she's ever seen him and it makes her prideful heart clench at the slight alone.

Before Raphael can catch his breath his lover resumes her ministrations, she sucks his cock head back into her mouth but this time she starts to bob her head up and down warming up her throat as she takes him further and further down licking his length where she can. Raphael's thighs start to tremble against MC's head as the sensations become too much, he can't hold back his moans any longer as they bouch off his bedroom walls fuelling her need to take him to release.

She wants to feel his cum run down her throat the thought alone is enough to coat her inner thighs in sticky slick, her jaw is starting to ache now with the stretch of his deliciously thick cock but she pushes that aside as she moves her head faster licking over the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.

MC can feel Raphael's cock throbbing faster as his moans and cries reach their peak when suddenly the pair hear a door fling open and shock shoots down MC's spine 'they weren't meant to be home yet' she thinks as she hears Simeon and Solomon talking about the demon brothers latest escapades.

Fear fills the Angels eyes as they dart from his door to his lovers eyes below him while his chest heaves with his sporadic breaths, she pulls her throat away from his cock "You'll just have to be quiet now my love" She smirks at him before returning to his cock, pushing his cock down the length of her warm and wet throat resuming her rough fast pace as Raphael bites his lip hard and throws his head back into the depths of his pillows trying his best to keep in his keening whines.

His wrists shake against his binds as he feels his end nearing, blood being drawn from his soft lips as he bites them furiously. The sounds of his housemates filling his body with fear and excitement as he can't help but buck his hips up into her mouth, pushing his length to the back of her throat as she gags around him. The feeling of her throat constricting so heavenly around him is the straw that broke him as he cums hard, his thighs shaking wildly as his hot and thick cum steaks down her waiting throat while she happily drinks it down licking up the last of his seed from the head of his cock as she pulls back.

She makes a show of cleaning him up as he shudders from the slight overstimulation "Let's join our friends shall we?" She unbinds his hands and helps his redress as fast as possible turning back to him before they leave his room "We'll finish this later" One last peck on the lips and a wink is all Raphael gets as she saunters out of his door to greet his friends with a smile stretched across her face, 'that human will be the end of me' he thinks with a smile as he catches a glimpse of her ass cheeks shaking beneath the edge of her RAD uniform skirt.

[blackjackkent]

OK, Aylin vanished while we were talking to the guardian so I think it's finally time to take this bad boy:

And finally let Hector take a GODDAMN NAP.

I have some vague ideas for some fluffy/hurt-comforty fic-y thing set in this period because this poor boy is so worn out right now. He's had no shortage of terrible things happen to him during the first two acts of this game but everything that has happened since the point-of-no-return in Act 2 here has really just hollowed him out emotionally.

(I always welcome fic ideas/prompts/suggestions of any sort, liveblog-related or not, but definitely open to any suggestions of some nice things to happen to Hector/the whole group during the act break. XD )

Before any relaxation time, though, we have a lot of conversations to catch up on, starting with an immediate one with Karlach as soon as we get out of the portal. Maybe she's indeed picking up on some of Hector's techniques of patience and self-restraint, because she has clearly been sitting on a freakout ever since they saw Gortash down below, and is finally letting it all come out.

"You saw Gortash, didn't you? What the fuck was he doing down there? Is all of this because of him? The tadpole, the Absolute... how?!"

Hector feels a little guilty as the words start to spill out of her, as they move up into the open air of the tower. He's been so wrapped up in his own overwhelming struggles of late - traveling into the domain of Shar, meeting Aylin and receiving not only her respect but her fealty, facing down Ketheric and the god of the dead - that he really neglected to focus much on what Karlach was also going through in seeing Gortash at the center of this plot.

Gortash was the one who sent her to the hells to become a slave to Zariel. He betrayed her. And down below the tower, they saw him in a position of nearly ultimate power, the control over the elder brain that threatens to destroy the world.

He can see the agitation in her eyes now as they get to something more resembling safety; has she been holding it back for his benefit? Or merely because there was no room down in that pit of horrors for it?

He reaches out and takes her hand, squeezes it tightly, a wordless apology in the touch. "We'll find out when we get to Baldur's Gate," he says firmly.

"Whatever the fuck he's been up to in the last ten years, we have to stop him," she snarls. All the tightly wound energy is coming loose now, all the anger pouring out of her. "He can't just keep ruining people's lives! He can't get away with it!"

She pulls her hand away from him, begins to pace restlessly. Ever since Dammon's last set of repairs to the infernal engine, the flames that run through her have mostly been contained, but he is more than a little alarmed to see the heat starting to flare around her in a way he hasn't seen since their first arrival at Last Light. The rage at Gortash goes beyond anything he's seen from her before.

"He used me up," she hisses. "And gave me away when he was done with me. Didn't matter how much I trusted him. And now he'd use up the entire Sword Coast."

Her jaw clenches, the flames beginning to lick visibly around her face and through her hair. "He has to die. AND I'M GONNA BE THE ONE WHO KILLS HIM."

Hector has to resist the urge to flinch away from the overwhelming surge of heat, the animal fury in her eyes. He knows she is fully capable of destroying anything in her path when she gets in this mood. But he has already promised himself that he will not be afraid of her, even in her darkest moments when the rage overtakes her. He just watches her steadily, letting the heat roll over him in a slow wave.

"We'll do it together," he says softly. "Whatever it takes."

Her face twists with grief and rage, but she has the presence of mind to draw back a little, pulling the flames away before they can lick out against him. "He can't get away with what he's done," she whispers hoarsely. "To me. To us." Her fists clench at her sides and the flames burst around her, in her eyes and up her neck and through the chinks in her armor. "He won't get away with it!"

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Lion hated feeling powerless. Not physically, that never really bothered him, but rather when it came to helping those he cared about. Protecting them. Bringing smiles to their faces when it felt as though the darkness was too much. Badger always made it look so easy, even when he himself was breaking he managed to coax smiles to the faces of even the most reluctant of people. He could make a stranger grin even when his own heart was breaking, and Lion wished that sometimes he could do the same. Especially when it came to his friends.

When it came to Fox. They’d spent so long together that it felt as though he should have known, instinctively, what to do to make her smile. In fights, they could share a brief look and know what the other was going to do, know what the next move was without a word. He could tell what reckless plan she was thinking of following simply by the look in her eyes. But right now, he had no idea what to do to draw a smile to her lips.

Three weeks. It felt like no time and a lifetime since everything had happened. Three weeks and Lion still hadn’t found the right thing to say. The thing to draw a real smile to her lips rather than the performative one she so often wore. The one she used to trick other people into thinking things were OK.

‘You’ll catch your death out here,’ he said softly, carefully draping his jacket over her shoulders before she could protest. It swamped her, the hem grazing the backs of her knees. A reminder of how small she truly was; not just to him – at six foot three he was used to towering over people – but in general.

‘Doubtful,’ she murmured, pulling his jacket tightly around herself nonetheless. When she spoke next, her voice was barely more than a whisper, as if she were hopeful he might miss it. ‘Do you think we did the right thing? Coming back rather than simply running away?’

‘Fox –’

‘Please,’ she said, turning to look at him. There was a desperate pleading in her eyes that shattered something inside him. Tear tracks glistened down her cheeks, red rimmed her puffy eyes. Lion had never seen Fox broken in this way. It was an almost intimate way of seeing her, something he knew she’d tried desperately to keep hidden from everybody.

He wanted to pull her close, to hold onto her as if he might be able to fix the shattered pieces of her soul that way. But he knew that was the last thing she needed; so, with great restraint, he carefully took her hands and raised them while bowing his head to kiss the back of each in turn.

‘I know we did the right thing, Fox,’ he assured her fervently, praying she understood just how much he meant those words. Even if running had felt like a good option at the time, he knew that neither of them would have been able to stomach that in the long run. The guilt would have eaten them alive if they hadn’t even tried to fix things themselves.

She peered up at him, conker eyes shining as she read his expressions. As she looked for any trace of a lie. Lion knew she wouldn’t find one, so remained perfectly still beneath her scrutiny rather than fidgeting.

After a few moments, she swallowed thickly, nodded just once.

A tentative smile flickered across her lips, there and gone like the snuffing out of a candle. But it was progress, and Lion was willing to accept it for the brittle attempt that it was. A step, no matter how small, in the right direction.

[plothooksinc]

How do you think Rise Don would act if mystical powers were kinda forced on him? Like he was so resistant to a mystical weapon (which I found surprising though understand with his characterization). If he just kept like...exploding out mysticism he *had* to acknowledge to control, how do you think that would go? (Feel free to take this as a prompt or just a thought experiment.)

I'm honestly not sure how to answer this one, anon 8|a I've been thinking about it for days. Largely I'm not sure what you mean by 'acknowledging' it in order to control it. Because on the surface, Donnie believes in facts and evidence and that means he'd acknowledge it just fine, grapple with fine tuning his control, and then just start using his mysticism much earlier than canon. He'd have a blast. Case closed.

But if you mean more than that, like he needs to know how to manipulate mystic energy, or he can't control it because it's too potent/too much/he's spent too much time trying to resist it and now it's kind of exploded out of him, that's different.

I think... if something happened and he started manifesting power suddenly, powerfully, it really depends very much on the timing in the setting. I'd imagine it would take some kind of extreme stress as a catalyst so he's already not going to be in the right mind set to deal with it.

Any time before Shredder, any drawing of mystical power on his part has been purely accidental and he's mostly relying on his tech, so sudden mystic power would be met with bewilderment, fear of the unknown (it's Donnie why is this happening he didn't predict this), maybe a little relief (guarded, kind of annoyed because he still very much prefers tech) that maybe he can connect with the mystical after all and that means that feeling of not being able to keep up with his brothers is no longer an issue. But then he can't control it. And Donnie likes control. And Donnie insists on control and would fight tooth and nail to gain it, stubborn and sure he can do this, but he's coming at it from entirely the wrong kind of angle because of his mindset and so... things just go pear-shaped super quick. That's a gauntlet of emotion that's maybe a minute long before he starts scrabbling for control and can't get it. And from there you could go in multiple directions:

He was probably already working with ways to dampen mystic/magical power to deal with problems like Draxum, maybe he'd use it on himself. Or maybe he'd accidentally, in the midst of scrabbling for control, manifest a kind of restraint on his own power and accidentally lock his access to the power away for good. Whoops, put a mystic lock on his own mysticism. Thaaat would lead to its own issues.

His brothers would try to help, but none of them really think about how to control their weapons or whatever, they simply do not know enough. Mikey's the closest to being able to help here, the most intuitive. Donnie's power is going haywire, none of them can fix it, Mikey does his best to maybe try and channel it safely/dampen it down from pure instinct with mixed success. Donnie's manifestations are both a danger to himself and the environment, given how they manifest later in the show, so no control is extremely bad. Donnie starts suffering ill effects a la Mikey in the movie, they panic and go to someone they know who might be able to help. Early in the series, that's Big Mama or Draxum. I'd lean more towards Draxum, given he's their creator so surely he knows about this stuff, right? But early in the series, he's not exactly inclined to help them out of the goodness of his own heart.

Either option leads to an interesting plot. But that's early in the series.

(Post Shredder, well, he's activated his Ninpo and is perfectly comfortable with the idea. So it would be an excess of power he couldn't control for whatever reason-- maybe he accidentally tapped into a mystic conduit oorrrr accidentally upgraded himself with alien technology or is just having issues post Technodrome in general-- in this case it's a bit more straightforward because I think Donnie would fetch up on Draxum's doorstep much earlier and Draxum would probably just teach him in tandem with Mikey and, in fact, any or all of them, because it's high time. But that's a story I won't get into now, largely because one of these options is already going into something I'm writing anyway. If you've read NRFTW, you can probably guess which one.)

So yeah, this question is rife with far too many possibilities and dependent on time frames for me, but here's some general thoughts on it. I'd love to hear if anyone has a different take!

[contentloadingandstuff]

Things Money Can Buy - Intro

A/N: Another one of my ideas. Hopefully, I'll make it a series. Enjoy the teaser!

CW: Nudity.

Aether slowly blinks his eyes open. His head is pounding mercilessly, and his vision is blurred. He can see very little anyway. Something is covering his eyes. His body is sore, so he attempts to move around. His efforts are in vain as the rough rope bindings hold him to the chair. He struggles for a brief moment, swinging left and right to tip the chair over. 

"Good, you're awake." 

A hand holds the chair down, locking it in place. Aether tries to look towards the voice, but the rope around his neck doesn't allow that. Steps echo around him. 

With a rough movement, his blindfold is ripped off. He squints his eyes at the bright light that illuminates the room. When his eyes adjust, Aether takes a look around. He is sitting on a cheaply made chair, inside a dusty, mostly empty room. A few lanterns hang from the ceiling. 

Before him are three men. Their skin is sickly, bearing a disturbing purple tint. An unmistakable sign of using a Delusion, Aether thinks. They wear loose, worn-out kimonos, with bare katanas attached to their hips. Ronin. 

He looks up at the man in front of him. He's much taller, and has the characteristic, blood red eyes of the Nobushi. His silver hair is short and messy, but his chin is cleanly shaved. 

"What are you staring at, kid?" He growls. 

"I guess you boys didn't bring me all the way here to have tea and talk about your horrible fashion sense?" 

Before he can react, an open palm comes straight at his face. It lands on his cheek, making his head twist down. Aether feels his lip split on impact. The captor looks amused at his frown. 

"You've got balls to talk like that to me, kid. I respect that. So, I'll tell you why you're here." He crouched down to meet Aether's gaze. "The princess seems to have a weak spot for you. She'll pay a lot to see you, I'm sure of it."

Aether chuckled. Heavy drops of sweat rolled down his forehead. 

"Oh, you're in for trouble. Do you even know who serves Ayaka?" 

"Hah, of course I do. But don't worry your pretty little head. I made sure we will not be disturbed."

He gulped, and fumbled with his restraints again. As much as he hoped they were bluffing, the staleness of the air did nothing to ease his worries. 

"What did you do to Paimon?" He asks. 

"Oh? That little floating fairy thing?" The Ronin draws a cruel smile. 

"She's not a thing." Aether can feel his heartbeat increase every second. If they did anything to her he swears… 

"We dumped it into the sea. Simple as. Didn't look like it was worth much, to be honest. Not with that annoying voice, anyway." 

"Bastard…" Aether growled, but was immediately gagged by the other Nobushi. 

"If you can't use that mouth the right way, don't use it at all. Kid." His captor motions to his sidekicks, who approach the prisoner. 

Aether watches, constantly struggling, as the other Nobushi cut his legs loose. He tries to kick at them, yet his legs are tied together. As the men drag him to his feet, Aether tries to focus Electro in his hands. He was in this predicament a few times already, and his Elemental Mastery came in great clutch. 

After a brief moment, a spark shines in his hands. He focuses, furrowing his brow and clenching his teeth, but he can't seem to summon any more. His heart drops. 

The men push him in front of them, and Aether cannot resist. His limbs feel limp, making it hard to walk. No matter how hard he tries, he can't use Electro. He tries Geo, Anemo, Dendro… nothing works. 

Suddenly, he is stopped. His hands untied, and he immediately tries to resist. A hard punch in his exposed stomach makes him fall to the ground. His hands are moved in front of him, and cold shackles are placed over them. 

He feels the ronin tugging at his top. With little effort, they are able to rip it straight off. Aether feels the cool air on the exposed skin of his back. His pants are soon cut open and unceremoniously discarded, followed by his underwear. One captor grabs his head, and rips out his earrings. Aether groans, but keeps himself from saying anything. He is forced to move again. He hears the sound of a heavy door being unlocked. 

With the blindfold removed, he can see the dark room in front of him. With a kick to his tailbone, he stumbles in. Before Aether can turn around, the door slams shut, leaving him in complete darkness. 

He stands there, listening to fading steps on the other side. It's cold here, much colder than in the corridors. He stretches his hands out, trying to feel anything in front of him. Slowly, he reaches a wall. Propping himself up, he traces his hands, moving to the side. His feet suddenly feel something soft laying on the floor. He moves his foot to rest on it. Hay. 

Carefully, he comes down on his knees, slowly feeling around it. The pile is quite large, it seems. Aether takes air in through his nose, and gags almost instantly. It smells horribly, of rot, sweat and urine. 

Aether hesitates for a moment. The "bed" is filthy, but his body feels sore. His head still throbs, and his muscles are tense and aching. With utmost contempt, he lowers himself down on the hay. Facing the door and laying on his side, he curls his legs to secure his most intimate areas. There could be bedbugs or lice in the mess, and those crawling into places they shouldn't be is the last thing the Traveler needs. 

"I've had worse, heh." He says to himself. 

His eyes slowly blink shut. Though his mind is racing, Aether makes an effort not to think. 

He knows letting the gravity of the situation dawn on him would only make things worse. 

After a while, his mind quiets, and he can fall into restless sleep. 

Thanks for reading!

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

“That’s not bad luck, you’re just stupid!”

“Any time you show up is bad luck, Shaw,” Pyro snapped.  Next to him, Dom folded his arms with an audible sigh. 

“No, it’s the consequences to your extremely stupid actions.  Namely, random and wanton violence, which will naturally draw the attention of our PR-sensitive Council.  What actually is bad luck is that I have, for some inane reason, been deemed your personal babysitter, and sent to put a stop to…..all this.”  Sebastian waved his hand at the sprawling factory building, which was engulfed in flames, and partially collapsed at one end, courtesy of Dominikos.

“Oh, this?  Actually, it’s not random violence at all!”  Feeling gleefully smug, Pyro pulled a piece of paper out of his uniform that he’d prepared for this exact scenario, and shoved it into Shaw’s face.  Sebastian snatched it away and peered at it.

“A deed?” 

“Turns out, I own this building!  Dom and I are just destroying my own property.”  Pyro grinned.  He was riding the high of violent destruction, a massive fire, and the opportunity of making Sebastian Shaw look like a fool. 

“He can do whatever he likes with his own building,” Dom added. 

Sebastian scowled.  “Actually he can’t, there are permits required for any kind of controlled demolition – “

Okay, admittedly Pyro didn’t have one of those.  Stupid America, stupid laws.

“-and there’s gas mains to consider, which may run under other buildings on this block – “

That one Pyro had covered.  “Gas is off, Shaw, no worries there.”

“-and the chance of fire spreading – “

“This entire block is abandoned warehouses, and I think you’ll notice I’m keeping this fire exactly contained within the property line.” 

Pyro was feeling especially proud of that level of self-restraint and control.  Even if he had been making fire creations loom up out of the inferno like the demon on Bald Mountain in Fantasia, it was all very carefully kept within the boundaries of the property that he owned. 

“-possible earthquake damage to the surrounding area – “

“What damage?”  Avalanche demanded.  “I’m just shaking the building down.”

“-NOT TO MENTION – “ Sebastian continued, raising his voice over the constant interruptions, “-the absolute waste of destroying a building that could have been put to better use.  You are, of course, free to burn your money however you choose, Allerdyce, but I’ll still call you a fool.”

Pyro shrugged.  

“The company lost this factory in a bankruptacy case, and it was condemned for violating a whole fuck-ton of building codes.  Cost more to renovate than to just burn the bastard down.” 

Pyro had purchased the building (and the lot underneath) on a whim, when his royalty checks from his latest best-seller started coming in.  He’d had a vague idea about turning it into a Brotherhood safehouse/hang-out/party pad, but one tour around the place had convinced him otherwise.  It was an absolute wreck, even by the Brotherhood’s often low standards. 

“Fine, fine,” Sebastian waved a hand dismissively.  “But why….this?” 

Pyro shrugged again.  The truth was, Pyro had seen the way Dom’s face fell when the X-Men vote was announced, and he wasn’t on the team.  He’d seemed a little cheerier later, after apparently having some kind of wild adventure with M and some other X-types, but a few days later, he was still moping into his beer at the Blue Lagoon.  Dom didn’t really have much on Krakoa, not like Pyro with the Marauders and Freddy with his bar, and Mystique and Destiny on the fancy-pants Council.  Pyro wasn’t sure how to fix that, but he knew how to put a smile back on Avalanche’s face. 

But he certainly wasn’t going to tell bloody Shaw all that. 

“We’re criminals, Shaw, old habits die hard.  Sometimes life on Krakoa gets a little too quiet and we need a bit of the old ultra-violence.  Better to do it this way, yeah?”

They’d even done a thorough sweep of the place to check for any homeless that might have taken refuge there.  And Avalanche had shaken the building until several stray cats and an army of rats had fled to safety before they began demolition in earnest.  Not that Sebastian cared about that.   

“Better than an offense that lands you in the Pit, I suppose,” Sebastian conceded, handing the deed back.  He appeared lost in thought, gazing at the fire, and the partially destroyed factory.  Pyro shot a hopeful smile over at Dom. 

“I will admit…..I had a very trying day at the Council today, and being sent for this nonsense was the proverbial icing on the shit cake,” Sebastian began.  “I may be willing to overlook this…and perhaps even help you salvage some value selling the property, in exchange for a reasonable percentage of profit.  And – “

Sebastian suddenly ripped his shirt off, the cloth shredding in his hands like tissue paper. 

“- if you let me get a few hits in.  Knocking down a few walls would probably make me feel better.”

Pyro glanced over at Avalanche, who gave him a shrug and half-smile as if to say, “Eh, why not?”  It was certainly a convenient way out of trouble.  Pyro had been entertaining a fantasy of him and Dom fucking in the rubble, but the reality of it would probably be rather uncomfortable.

“Fine.  But don’t expect us to pull any punches if you get in our way.”  In fact, Pyro fully intended to deliberately aim some shots at Shaw, and suspected Dom would do the same.

Sebastian grinned. 

“I would expect nothing less,” he said, before running into the flames.

[geeky-politics-46]

Hello! For the 5 sentence ask game—Edging Sinister while his hands are tied so he’s not in control 🖤

This one could have easily spiraled into a longer story, & in fact it kind of will for the 2nd day of Kinktober as the theme is edging & I picked Sinister for it already 😀

NSFW - 18+ only please ❤️

Sinister Strange never thought he would let anyone get him in a position like this. That he would willing surrender so much control. Even before he began working with the Darkhold, he had always preferred to be the one in control. In all areas of his life. So the fact that he was currently laying at your mercy, naked with his hands bound to the bedframe, was a big gesture of his adoration and devotion to you. You both knew he could easily undo his bonds with his magic, but he wanted to give this to you. Give himself to you. He may be the sorcerer, but you were the one that had enchanted him and held him spellbound.

He had no Idea how long you had been teasing him, bringing him right to the edge of climax only to pull him back. It felt endless and all too short all at the same time. His skin glistening with sweat and tendrils of his gray streaked hair were plastered to his face. His thick veiny cock was so hard it was painful, tip flushed dark red and continously dribbling. You were having fun playing with every drop that leaked from him. Sliding it up and down his shaft with a firm grasp, using one finger drawing little swirling shapes on his head before pulling away and watching the string that would stretch from your finger to his tip, and letting it start to pool in his slit before leaning down to lap it up with kitten licks.

You were using him like a toy for your own enjoyment, and he was loving every second off it. Your every touch pulled a new sound from him. You were worshipping him and torturing him at the same time. His thoughts a scrambled mess as you swallowed him down yet again. His wrists twisting against their restraint as he tried to gain enough traction to thrust into your mouth. A high pitched whine came from the back of his throat, "Please kitten, fuck, my love. Please fuck me. I need to be inside you. I can't take it any longer. Use me. I beg you, I need you. Use me."

"Yeah, you gonna let me use you to get myself off? I know you want to cum baby. Think I should let you?" Placing one long last lick up his length before pulling away and letting his cock fall back against his pale scuplted abdomen. He could do nothing but watch as you crawled up his body. Hovering just high enough above him to be out of reach.

Once you were positioned on top of him you sat up on your knees and ran your hands up your thighs, caressing your body until your arms stretched over your head and your back arched. Looking down at him you lowered your body until he felt the wet warmth of your perfect cunt. You had slotted his shaft perfectly to slide between your slick pussy lips, rubbing your clit perfectly and providing just short of what he craved. He was mesmerized as he watched you slid against him, as your slick drenched him. He felt his balls start to tighten and he began to whimper. Pleading mentally for you to keep going. At the very last moment you lifted your hips off of him, removing all contact and once again leaving him just shy of release.

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

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[yanderemommabean]

Do Zora have mating seasons? If so, what would Sidon be like during his?

I like to think they do!

Prince Sidon was raised to be respectable and a great leader, one who protects and does whatever he can for his people. His blood is of champions and warriors who will be adored for centuries! So of course when mating season comes along, he'll be hounded about who he will choose as a destined mate.

Now, he'll admit, he's gotten pretty close to you. You two have shared many bonding moments together, and it's like you've become apart of the domain, though you aren't a Zora yourself.

You unfortunately had no idea about a Zora's sexual nature, nor when they were in heat/rut. You assumed they simply had sex whenever they wished and that was that. Although that's mainly true, when mating season arrives, they have almost no control over their more primal minds.

-First, Sidon is more than a little clingy. He won't let go of you even for a second, his large hands either holding you close or groping your soft, supple body. You'll hear him growling, or purring against you while you visit, his eyes nearly pitch black as he stares at you hungrily.

-Next, he's trying to show you that he's interested in mating you, showing that he made specific armor, has caught many many fish, and even hands you his own handmade pendant. He wants you to see how serious he is, how much he truly has fallen for you.

-Now you're given a choice, kinda. You can politely decline and try to leave (though I'm positive he wouldn't allow that) or- accept his courtship and meet him in his own room, where he prepares to absolutely wreck you until you are claimed inside and out.

Sidon would have to gently open you up, but it's such a difficult task. He wants to just pummel into you, breed you deeply, fill you up with both of his cocks while you writhe and whimper for him. But he holds himself back, letting his fingers open you slowly, pumping in and out of your hole as the digits curl and search for any and every spot that makes you squeal.

Of course his tongue is used to help lubricate and open you more, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't his favorite part. Your taste is just so divine, so delicious, he could never get enough even if he strapped you to his face for hours! (Which, when this horny, he just might!).

Drinking your cum, slurping up the mess you make on your thighs and your ass, tongue plunging into you while his fingers toy with your sex and are added again to help stretch your hole. He's in absolute heaven!

soon, while you're wrung of your umpteenth orgasm, his large cocks tease your opening, begging to slam in and just take, take, take. One slowly manages it's way inside of you, carving it's rightful place one agonizing inch at a time. Your walls will clamp down, and test his restraint as he tries not to break you.

Sidon will thrust into you while his teeth sink into your shoulder, drawing an alarming amount of blood that he simply laps up and drinks in. You'll be squirming and panting as he uses just one of his large cocks to breed you, knowing he'll fill you up to an obscene extent, wondering if you could ever handle both monstrous organs.

Once he's climaxed, he'll stay inside of you for a while, gently kissing you while looking at the damage he'd done to your skin. Teeth marks, scratches up your back, tears on your face as you fall asleep in his arms. He feels a mix of pride and guilt, loving that he has you as his forever mate, but hates that he hurt you so bad.

He'll make it up to you! Just bear with him throughout his rut, once you find a mate it's three days of breeding, mating, bonding and marking!

(-Mommabean, tell me what you think!)