#especially when you're the person who has their body stolen

[the-girl-with-too-many-ideas]

Unpopular opinion, If the story was told from Shen Jiu's perspective, svsss would be a horror and Shen Yuan the villain.

I mean, you're talking about someone who had little to no automony their entire childhood. Who was a slave and suffered unspeakable horrors at the hands of his master to the point of developing a fear of men. Who knows what it is like to have no control over your body or what happens to it.

So, to be not only kicked out of his body, but forced to watch as someone else occupies and uses it (arguably doing and becoming everything he was rumored to have been and done) would be viscerally horrific.

(This is why I firmly believe that YQY would take the Shen Yuan revelation badly. He was a slave too, and without a doubt, knows how much Shen Jiu valued his freedom and autonomy above everything else. He would be so horrified and devastated to learn that his Xiao Jiu was stripped of both again while he stood by and did nothing again.)

[xythlia]

› he's obsessed w you (and your pussy)

mdni. f!reader. pussy worshipping satoru. fingering. clit play. edging. multiple orgasms. biting mention. squirting.

satoru who loves playing with your pussy, getting you situated between his legs and creeping his hands up your thighs. especially if you wore those cute sleep shorts to bed last night, the ones that bunch up around your ass when you wake up and sleepily pad into the kitchen looking for coffee.

you don't have to worry, he's got something that can wake you up much better than a cup of steaming hot caffeine ever could. he's practically addicted to the way you moan, quiet and breathy, as his fingers stroke you through your shorts at first. squirming in his hold as you feel his erection press against your lower back but he's not concerned about himself just yet.

placing wet, sloppy kisses against the side of your neck, trailing his tongue against your warm skin makes his head spin and he's gotta use his other hand to hold your hip firmly in place. no wiggling away from him, not when the thought of you has been tempting him since last night. when you whine out his name and paw as his forearms it just urges him on, pulling the fabric to the side to swipe his fingers against you and feel just how wet you are.

"woke up like this, huh? you know I can help," he purrs against the back of your neck as your head rolls back to rest against his chest. Your lips are parted and little puffs of air are coming harshly from between them as his index delicately circles your clit. He doesn't apply much pressure, it's almost like the ghost of a touch against you but it's enough to already have you whining and begging for him to touch you more, stop being so mean 'toru.

but you don't know he's not being mean, quite the opposite it's just that the slick feeling of your pussy drives him insane and feeling the sticky warmth inside you as he slides two fingers against your fluttering walls makes curses drop from his mouth instantly. The way you massage his fingers in a pulsing rhythm is beyond sinful, your body begging him to indulge more, more, more.

and who is he to deny you?

"shit," he grips a handful of your inner thigh as his fingers keep working you open at a lazy pace. there's no rush, not this morning when the sun's barely up and the sounds of the world waking have yet to reach through the exterior of your home. he can feel the way your muscles tense, flexing and holding taut every time he scissors his long fingers against your silky walls.

the squelching sound that fills the apartment makes him salivate, if it was possible he'd have hearts in his eyes from that alone. you're absolutely soaked now, arousal coating his fingers and seeping into the palm of his hand as your hips buck and jerk in a sporadic rhythm shamelessly desperate to chase your release.

but he doesn't want this to be over too soon, not when he's only just started. so he switches, fingers pulling out of you and moving back up to rub your adorably puffy clit. it makes your voice crack and he knows without even looking that there's tears in your eyes now, and you're beyond the point of being able to speak now it's just hiccuped moans and broken cries of his name joining the squishy sound of him toying with you.

it may as well be his own personal platinum record, he could have this cacophony on repeat for a week and die a happy man. his other hand drifts up to grope and massage your breasts intermittently through your t-shirt, one stolen from his wardrobe that you look so jaw dropping in. he groans feeling your nails bite into his forearm, his teeth returning the favor against the side of your neck while you sob and your body goes rigid in his lap.

he knows this is it, feels the stray tears splash against his hand as they drop from your face while your gasps turn silent, mouth hung open and body rigid while his fingers never stop playing with your clit as you ride out the orgasm and he feels, somehow, even more of your slick mixed with cum dripping out of you and making even more of a mess between your legs.

but even after you start coming down satoru doesn't stop. rolling your cute little clit between his fingers and making you nearly jump out of your skin from the unrelenting pleasure, squeezing his arm and begging for a break.

"don't wanna leave my favorite girl just yet," and you just know he's talking about both you and your pussy. it makes you groan and grind your hips again as his fingers dip back inside you, languidly exploring every inch of you while your body can't help but spam intermittently, aftershocks of your previous orgasm hitting against the new waves of pleasure building towards a second.

"toru please," you cry out, the sounds getting mangled by the way your breathing gets so harsh. you're practically crying now, and it's not just your thighs shaking by your whole body because he's taking advantage of the fact that your first orgasm left you so raw.

he shushes you, coos at you so sweetly while his thumb presses against your clit again and you sob, clawing at his skin as he settles on a more rapid pace this time, just to see you come fully undone in his lap. it doesn't take long at all, and he can feel the way liquid spurts against his hand. a lovesick grin works it's way across his face at that and he pulls his hand away fully, situating your shorts back in place over his favorite little treat as he places a sweet kiss to your temple.

satoru knows you're basically made of jello now, answering him in little grunts when he asks if you'd like to sit with him in the bath for a bit, let him hold you and work your body and mind back to full consciousness. carefully he gathers you in his arms, peppering more kisses across your face in silent thanks for always being so good to him, good for him.

[babybluewoso]

The Blaugrana Beat: A Tale of Love Beyond the Pitch || alexia putellas x reader

once upon a time, in the sun-kissed streets of Barcelona, two hearts danced to the rhythm of childhood innocence. Alexia Putellas and Emerson Jones were inseparable, their laughter echoing through the narrow alleys as they chased after soccer balls and dreams. They were more than friends; they were soulmates, their bond forged in the fiery passion of youth.

Emerson, with her unruly curls and mischievous eyes, was a blend of English pragmatism and Spanish fire. She had spent fifteen vibrant years in Spain, soaking up the Mediterranean sun and falling in love with the game that would shape her destiny. Alexia, on the other hand, was all grace and determination. Her Spanish roots ran deep, and her love for soccer was etched into her very bones.

Emerson is the girl who never liked to wear frocks, who couldn't stay still for a minute,  and who always loves to cause trouble. alexia, on the other hand, is the angel everyone adores, sure she did play soccer but she loved to dress up as a princess only for her Emerson. From a very young age Alexia wanted to be with Emerson she never knew why, but whenever another girl touched her Emerson she would explode. their parents, especially Emerson's brothers tease them because growing up  Alexia is the tallest one out of both of them.

after years of pinning over each other, they admitted their feelings to each other. Their love story began innocently—a stolen kiss behind the bleachers, secret notes passed during class, and late-night conversations under the star-studded sky. They were childhood sweethearts, their hearts entwined like the vines that adorned the ancient walls of the Camp Nou stadium. 

however life has a way of twisting fate, and when Emerson’s family announced their return to England, the world tilted on its axis. She tried to explain it to Alexia, her voice trembling with the weight of impending separation. But Alexia misunderstood, her heart shattered into a thousand shards. She believed Emerson was leaving because she had grown tired of their love, that their shared dreams were mere illusions.

In a moment of pain and desperation, Alexia lashed out. 

"you know what I never liked you anyway, you foolishly thought that I loved you huh? guess what I would never, ever love someone like you" she spat, her eyes betraying the lie.

Emerson’s heart fractured, "No no you're lying. ale, you know I will always find my way back to you. always, I can't do anything about this situation. I love you. I- I- "

"stop it. go back to your stupid country. I bet you already have some chick lined up for you huh??"

"ale this isn't you"

"stop calling me that. and get the hell out of here" and she left Barcelona with tears staining her jersey.

Years passed, Emerson’s life took unexpected turns and so did her body. once the smallest kid in the town is now the tallest giant in the town. but her personality stays the same way, with her side smirk and the messy blonde hair, England women lined up for her attention. But none of them matter to her when her heart always belongs to a certain Catalan girl.  

Emerson honed her skills, rising through the ranks until she stood at the precipice of her dreams—a chance to sign with FC Barcelona. But fate had a wicked sense of humor. Alexia, now a seasoned player herself, was the team captain. the news of Emerson Jones joining Barca flew like wildfire. before she knew it, she was packing her bags to go back to Spain. where she lost her first love. She is ready to prove that she came here to stay. Even Alexia’s words rang in her head all the time; she had faith in their love.

Lucy Bronze, her England teammate has taken it up on herself to introduce Emerson to the team. Emerson is so happy to be back in Barcelona, but that is not the only reason, she wanted to see Alexia apparently the girl had some captain duties to do. after changing into her new training kit, she made her way onto the field.

lunchtime rolled over still no sign of the captain, so Emerson let out a quiet sign and ate her lunch. but little did she know the captain was looking from the physio room this entire time. Alexia couldn't bring herself to meet Emerson again. She knew it was childish, she was the team captain one way or another they must meet again.

After lunch, the team had their evening gym session. which Alexia had to participate in. Again, Lucy took it upon herself to introduce the two ex-lovers.

"Hello," Emerson’s Yorkshire accent dripped down due to being so many years in England.

alexia has to admit that it was very hot but she dismissed that thought quickly. She takes a quick look at Emerson’s body, she is not the same girl who she used to be. alexia is one of the tallest players in the squad after Irene, Ingrid, and Frido but never in her wildest dreams, she would have thought that Emerson would be this tall. Emerson, standing at an imposing 6 feet tall, defies convention with her androgynous allure. Her frame, though linear, conceals a quiet strength—a testament to her disciplined lifestyle. Her jawline, sharp as a blade, accentuates her femininity, while her ocean-blue eyes hold depths of mystery. no wonder why England women were so caught up with her charm.

"hola, espero que no caus cap problema aquí"(hello hope you don't cause any trouble here) She greeted Emerson’s return with icy indifference, her walls fortified against the girl who had once held her heart. 

Emerson couldn't understand a word she said but she knew Alexia wasn't very pleased with her presence. swallowing hard Emerson tried to start a conversation with her;

"How are you doing ale?? it's been some time"

"Mira aquí no em pots dir ale perquè no és el meu nom, només els meus amics I la família em poden dir així, I l'última vegada que vaig composer que no eres ni familiar ni amic meu." (look you can't call me ale here because that's not my name only my friends and family can call me that, and last time I checked you were neither family nor friend of mine)

lucy who had seen the whole interaction stepped in, "Hey hey I don't know what happened with you two but save it for late si?" with that Alexia left without another word.

"she hates me" Emerson whispered.

"no shit Sherlock. what did you do to her, and how did you two know each other, did you sleep with each other? omg if so this is not going to end well. You have to tell me everything "

-- -

A few days passed Emerson befriended almost everyone on the team. alexia hated that too, Emerson has friends now. As a captain of the team, she had some power over a few things. 

alexia refused to talk in English she even abandoned the other players to talk in English too. poor Keira never saw it coming. She explained the drills in Spanish, and Emerson felt hopeless. it was quite obvious within the team that alexia hated her but only Lucy and Kiera knew the real reason.

after a grueling training session, Alexia called the team over to have a free kick challenge.

"Farem un repte de tir lliure si ho perdeu, hauteur de córrer 10 volts" (we're gonna do a free kick challenge if you miss, you'll have to run 10 laps) Alexia said with a straight face, again Emerson couldn't understand a word she said but after watching her other teammates she knew it was a free kick challenge.

when it came to Emerson's chance she felt extra nervous, she had taken plenty of free kicks in her life but with the way Alexia was watching, she felt really uncomfortable.

she took a breath and kicked the ball, safe to say it never found its way back on the net.

"de nuevo"(again) alexia seethed.

Emersson’s every touch of the ball felt like a plea for forgiveness, but Alexia remained unyielding. She masked her pain with sharp words and frosty glances, pushing Emerson away. Yet, beneath the surface, the embers of their love still smoldered. The tension between them was palpable, a magnetic pull that defied reason.

---------

days after the free kick incident, it was time to face El Classico, but most importantly Emerson's debut for Barca.

alexia couldn't play due to her knee injury but she was at the stands cheering her teammates.

in the 56th minute, Emerson was subbed in, and from that very moment, the match began to escalate. chances were created, and space was used within two minutes Emerson scored her debut goal for her club. after that goal, Real Madrid became reckless with their tackless, and all of them were aimed at Emerson.

after another thirty-five minutes, the game was over securing a Barcelona win which was nothing new for the team.

however, nobody saw how bad was Emerson, her whole body was aching, and she was exhausted physically and mentally. but she masked it with a small smile on her face. alexia saw right pass through it. she wanted to help but her mind wouldn't let her. 

after thanking the fans Emerson made her way to the physio room to clean up her bruises. to her absolute luck, nobody was there to help. she couldn't care more so she made her way to one of their tables and took off her shirt.

meanwhile, Alexia was caught up in her own battle in her head. She wanted to help Emerson so badly but at the same time, she wanted to hurt her the same way she did.

that's when Lucy came from behind. "go after her. She needs you more than anything"

"I needed her too, but where was she then?"

"don't punish her without knowing the full story"

"easy for you to say, Lucia"

-----

The silence of the locker room was punctuated by the sound of footsteps. Emerson, still reeling from the match’s physical toll, looked up to see Alexia approaching. Her face was a mask of professionalism, but her eyes betrayed a storm of emotions.

“Emerson,” Alexia began, her voice steady and in English, a language she hadn’t used with her for over a decade. “I need to check those bruises you've got.”

Emerson’s eyes widened in surprise. “Alexia?" 

"You’re speaking to me in English?”

She didn’t waver. “Yes, I am. Can we put our past aside for a moment? Your well-being is my priority right now.”

she nodded, still taken aback by the change. “Of course.”

As she tended to her injuries, the tension between them was palpable. Emerson broke the silence, “Why now, after all these years?”

Alexia paused, her hands momentarily still. “Because hate is a heavy burden to carry, and I see no point in holding onto it any longer.”

Emerson searched her face for a hint of the love they once shared. “Do you… do you ever think about us?”

She sighed a trace of sadness in her eyes. “Every day. But we can’t change the past, Emerson. We can only learn from it.”

she reached out, gently touching her hand. “I’m sorry, Alexia. For everything.”

She met her gaze, her own hand covering hers. “I know. And I forgive you. But let’s focus on healing these bruises for now.”

They shared a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Perhaps this was the first step towards mending what had been broken, not just in flesh, but in heart and spirit.

The world blurred, and for a moment, they were just two girls who had once shared secrets and dreams.

Alexia’s eyes held a storm of emotions—regret, longing, and a hint of fear. “Why did you leave?” she whispered, her voice raw. “Why did you break my heart?”

Emersson’s gaze bore into hers. “I had no choice,” she confessed. “My family needed me. But I never stopped loving you.”

The truth hung heavy in the air, and Alexia’s walls crumbled. She cradled Emersson’s face, her thumb brushing away tears. “I was wrong,” she murmured. “I never stopped loving you either.”

And in that moment, the rivalry dissolved, replaced by a love that had weathered storms and crossed continents. Emerson signed with Barça, not as an enemy but as a lover—a woman who had fought for her dreams and her heart.

As they celebrated victory on the hallowed grounds of Camp Nou, Alexia whispered against Emersson’s lips, “Welcome home.”

And Emerson knew that sometimes, love was a game worth playing, even when the odds were stacked against you. They had gone from childhood sweethearts to enemies, but now, they stood on the brink of a new chapter—a love rekindled, stronger than ever before.

p.s. - this is my first story so bear with me. :)

[darkbluekies]

How would the yans react if their darling is already dating someone else

Warnings: killing, kidnapping

Silas: 

He hates to see you laugh and smile with someone who isn’t him. He knows he shouldn’t approach you. You’re so … pure, so normal … and he’s a beast lurking in the darkness. He knows that the second he approaches you, you’ll be sucked into his world and there won’t be a way out. But he cannot bare himself to watch you cling onto someone that isn’t him. Silas sighs. He could actually keep you safe if he really tried. If he doesn’t take you to be his, he will regret it for all eternity. He turns to his second in command. 

“See that person over there? The one leaning onto the one in gray? I want them. And I want the one in gray gone. Why? Personal reasons. Make sure that cute, little thing is in my basement by the end of the night, got it? Thank you.”

Dr Kry: 

His heart breaks when someone else tries to visit you at the hospital. It’s always the same person. He doesn’t dare to ask you about who it is, scared to hear the truth. Of course, he knows that it’s your significant other, but he doesn’t want to have it confirmed. A small part of him still hopes that it’s just a family member. Nonetheless, he has to get rid of them before you start to ask about them. Dr Kry pulls the threat into a supply closed, pressing a drenched cloth against the persons face. 

“Don’t take it personal, this is just for selfish reasons. It actually doesn’t have anything to do with you, just who you’re with. Y/N isn’t yours anymore and I’ve given you more than second chances to make you realize that … but here we are. Just go to sleep, breathe in. It’ll all be over soon.”

King Edmund:

He isn’t worried. He’s the king! Who can’t decline a king a favor? He doesn’t have to be worried about whoever has stolen your heart. Worst case scenario, he’ll rip you open and give you a new heart that only belongs to him. It can’t be so difficult, there are hundreds — if not thousands — of women who want him. If only you got to have one of their hearts …

“My good sir, I want to make a deal with you. You stay away from Y/N and I send you a portion of money every month to make sure you and your family can live comfortably. I know how hard you have it on your farm. All you need to do is to give me Y/N. Not hard, right? You’re winning. I’m taking her off your hands. You could never provide for her. If you refuse? How funny that you asked that … if you refuse, your entire bloodline will die.”

Jerry: 

Jerry hates being jealous, hates that someone can make her that insane. She hates the power you have over her, especially when you’re not doing anything. The person who leans on your shoulder makes her sick. She can’t watch any longer. She has to have you. Now. She storms over with her men behind her. They grab your partner, pulling them away and Jerry traps you in a corner. You trembling in front of her sends tingles down her body. She reaches out her hand, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Don’t tremble, my love. You’re mine now. You’re with the wrong person. You might not understand it now, but I can assure you that you’re meant to be with me — be my little accessory. Don’t cry, I’m not going to hurt you for this. You had no idea. My pretty, little pet, you have no idea what kind of trouble you're pretty face has got you in …”

Hedwig:

She has been the best friend you could ever have. She has been by your side from the day you transferred … why didn’t you choose her to be your girlfriend? Hasn’t she been everything to you? Hedwig can feel a gaping hole in her heart when she sees you eating with someone else at lunch. She has to stay home. She can’t watch you be with someone else. All she does is cry in her bed. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t move, doesn’t bathe. A living zombie is what she’s become. One day, you come over to check up on her and she knows she has to take the chance.

“Y/N, you can’t do this to me! You have to break up with that … that bitch! P-Please! You have to be mine! I have to have you! I’m so lost without you! I can’t function without you! If … if you’re not going to leave them … I have to keep you here with me. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

[miinatozakiii]

kiss me

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff, suggestive

summary: drabble of kisses with sana, you can't get enough of her.

wc: 1.1k

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬: kiss me by dpr live

a/n: lots of fluff lately i'm just head over heels for this woman.

also, def recommend listening to the song^^ while you read ;-]

-

sana's kisses are your favorite, you can't get enough of her lips on you.

you love sana's soft kisses, they're light and filled with desire.

sana kisses you softly in the mornings, they're basically a part of your morning routine. her kisses are usually scattered all over your face in the mornings; she kisses you so gently and with so much care, as if you'd break if she kissed too hard. 

sana can never keep her lips or hands off of you, even in the mornings when you're both in the bathroom brushing your teeth, she finds a way to give you ticklish, wet, toothpaste-scented kisses all over your cheek or neck; she seriously can't get enough of you.

sana's spontaneity is shown with surprise kisses, whether you're cooking together or lost in conversation about who knows what, she'll sneak up behind you and plant a quick, playful kiss that never fails to make you smile brightly. 

her lips are all over you as she hugs you from behind while you cook breakfast. she mutters sweet nothings into your ear before sleepily pressing kisses all over–which may turn into making out for an hour or two–but you never complain, especially if it's sana.

when sana kisses you on the cheek or your forehead, it makes you melt completely. they're perfect for when you're down or need reassurance, it's her way of saying, "i'm here for you, always. everything will be okay." 

she often gives you quick pecks before she leaves for work just to let you know that she loves you, and sometimes her lips linger for a bit because she doesn't want to leave you–it reminds you that you're the luckiest person in the world. sana's kisses ground you, and they rid of any worry that had been on your mind. 

sana is always the first to kiss you after an argument or minor disagreement. it's her way of compromising with you, and it lowers the tension from any disagreements. though her apologetic kisses are rare, they're tender and are perfect for solving any issues. it's her way of letting you know that she loves you no matter what.

you also love sana's needy, more intimate kisses.

it drives you crazy when her moans are muffled as she kisses you, when she bites your lip so hungrily as you touch her where she's been aching. you love the way she latches onto your neck, kissing and marking it so she can let everyone know that you're hers and hers only. you love the kisses down your body, and the soft pecks she gives you on your inner thighs before she satisfies her cravings. you love it when she kisses you sloppily when you make out, maybe you're in the shower and her tongue roams your mouth so lazily as she holds you close to her, you just can't get enough of her.

sana kisses you in so many ways, she kisses you any time she can and every kiss shared is special to you.

sana loves your kisses too.

your kisses are a statement, and those statements always convey the message "i love you." 

they're so gentle when you kiss her palm as you work, blindly reaching for her hand just to assure her that there's no one else you'd rather be with. she loves when you kiss her like that, they're so tender and loving. she adores your kisses before she falls asleep, you're always the last one to doze off and she doesn't miss your small "goodnight, i love you's" that you mumble each night before kissing her softly, even when she's barely awake.

through the years, sana has noticed your liking towards pressing your lips on her shoulder. you two could be in the bath together, and your lips would plant slow, gentle pecks along her exposed shoulder. whenever that part of her is exposed, sana notices that you cannot take your eyes or lips off of it.

sana adores your stolen kisses, the ones you give when her attention is elsewhere. she could be working on something in the kitchen, papers spread over the counter and the light from her laptop lighting up her face, then your hand would caress her cheek out of nowhere, and you cup her face to plant a small kiss on her lips–she loves your stolen kisses so much–they might be her favorite.

since you're not as big on pda as she is, she cherishes every kiss that you give her in public. it could be a quick kiss on the cheek before you get up to grab the drinks you ordered, or a soft peck to the temple as you wait in line; she loves all of them.

when you'd laugh or smile into kisses AND It makes it hard for you to kiss back, oh how sana adores you. sana falls in love with you even more every time your lips come into contact with her. she lights up at the way you smile when you see her bare face at night right after she removes her makeup, always mumbling something along the lines of "you're so pretty." against her lips. you always pull her close to you, cupping her face in your hand and pushing her closer with the hand on her waist; you kiss her like she's the only thing that matters in the world (and she is).

sana can never get enough of how you kiss her when it gets heated.

your small curses in between kisses that get heated quickly, the way you completely devour her as your hands roam–fuck, she loves them. 

the way you kiss her hungrily brings an aching feeling in between her legs, and when you kiss down her neck to her collarbone while nipping and biting at her skin, it's the best feeling. 

you kiss her lip and she loves the slow, sensual kisses you leave as you trail down to her hips, then to her sweet spot. you savor and cherish every part of her body as you reach her pulsing core, leaving sana weak with your kisses. 

kisses that have her gasping, groaning, moaning, and whining so desperately, kisses that you leave on her inner thighs before eating her out until she loses the ability to walk. sana loves every kiss you give, especially the ones that she receives while you're leaving her weak.

you and sana share kisses that are so similar and so different, they can be so soft and suddenly turn so hungry. 

every kiss is unique, and every kiss you two share is special.

you can't get enough of each other's kisses.

[22ayla19]

From the author: This was a request from one user, but I lost his nickname... I'm sorry...

Headcanons with Kayden Break

● Kayden has a very specific personality. Becoming his girlfriend seems like luck is on your side, but it doesn’t seem to be the case. Knowing his ardent character, for Kayden the main thing in a partner is the opposite that could balance him, otherwise calling him violent is putting it mildly;

● The relationship with him could have started a very long time ago. You simply could have been childhood friends or simply opponents, after the battle, on the contrary, you became friends and began to further improve your abilities. It’s just that Kayden came to your house so often, slept with you, had dinner, trained with you that it became commonplace and you got used to this situation;

● Teasing, or making fun of Kayden is also allowed. No matter how much he needs the opposite of his character, he still wants excitement in a relationship. Most of the time he is the one who jokes and teases, but when you, too, are in the mood, he just burns inside from the thrill that you are insolent to him. And this usually ends with him simply dragging you to the bedroom for more adult matters;

● It will be important for Kayden to know that you can stand up for yourself, defend yourself when he is not around. Over all his years, he has made enough enemies for himself, and although the awakened world does not know about you as Kaidan’s girlfriend, there will be those who will find out the slightest information about him to use against him. It is important for Kaidan to know that you can defend yourself if something happens, he will always come to the rescue if his intervention requires it, but since you are his girlfriend, it means you must be on the same level as him;

● Being Kayden’s girlfriend means becoming an unexpected cat person and also becoming a mentor and practically the older sister of Ji Woo. Kayden in the body of a cat is an addition to your relationship, especially if you love cats and are not allergic to them. Plus a bonus in the form of your boyfriend’s kind and sweet student, who admires you so much that perhaps your and Kayden’s self-esteem has skyrocketed;

● Jealousy? Perhaps only to other cats and Ji Woo. A strange combination, of course, but it’s true. Kaidan gets jealous when you pay attention to other cats instead of him, or when you spend time with Ji Woo often, even if it's not training. At such moments, Kaiden thinks that his girlfriend was stolen by cats and his student, which in some cases is true, no matter how strange it may sound. In return, you compensate for this jealousy by spending quality time with my boyfriend;

● It’s not that Kayden doesn’t intend to marry you, it’s just that you already live as a married couple (though secretly, from the world of the awakened), so there’s simply no need to marry, and he’s unlikely to want to have a wedding, although he’ll think about buying a ring for your ring finger so other men know you're busy. There seems to be no need to talk about children. Yes, he gets along with Ji Woo, but if you give birth to a baby with abilities like Kaidan’s and his own character, it’s unlikely that the world of the awakened can stand it. They can barely tolerate Kayden alone, and then there is a daughter or son, who is his second copy, I’m afraid to imagine how the top 10 will react to such news. And Kayden himself said that he wouldn’t be very good at raising a child, so you don’t raise the topic of children. As a last resort, say that you will adopt Ji Woo.

[ficdumper]

Hey there! So I heard that you doing requests so I decided to ask for one! It would be male reader x Rosie, where the reader is a psychotic murderer who's just in the hotel for the free room and is usually a nuisance, but when Rosie comes to visit one day he goes all silent and shy and she finds him super adorable so she keeps coming back. It can be head cannons and it would be romantic fluff.

Rosie x m!reader

Type: one-shot, headcanons

Relationship: romantic

Tags: fluff

Warnings: mentions blood and murder

You, just like all the other sinners in the Pride ring, were here for a reason. Or, reasons. For some it was an ice cream stolen when they were 5, for others - alcohol and robbery.

For you, though?

Murder.

Lots of it.

You've always been quie a creative person when it came to death, your own didn't change it. It just meant you could get more creative and stop hiding it.

Your first years in hell (or has it been centuries) were pretty much the same: kill, cause chaos, annoy some overlords, kill and so on. It was becoming a little too repetitive. So, when you heard about Hazbin hotel, you decided to check it out. It seemed quite an easy deal: you show some of your less bloody qualities and you get to stay there for free. Sounds like a dream, right?

Well, not completely. Charlie's sweeter than sugar meetings and not being allowed to torture whoever you liked there didn't seem very nice. But a big plus, besides free housing, was that you managed to befriend Alastor, or at least become a close acquaintance.

Was it a big surprise? To other residents, probably. To you, however? No way. Both of you could be described as psycophats, curses, menaces and every other "compliment". But your bloody styles still had some differences. While Alastor was more formal and quite careful, even a little elegant in his own twisted way, you were more unpredictable and chaotic.

It wasn't just with murder. You quickly git a reputation for pulling some unexpected pranks. Let's just say, you're a master at giving others heart attacks.

One day Alastor thought it would be interesting to show his best friend Rosie the hotel. And that's what resulted in our current situation: you were so bewitched from the moment you saw the elegant cannibal that you walked into a wall so hard you got a nose bleed (and who can blame you?)

When Rosie sees it, she asks if you're alright and wipes the blood off your face. You can't do anything besides letting her and admiring her up close. Her dark eyes, her neat elegant hair, her perfect smile...

Your thoughts may be beautiful, but from the side you looked like an entranced zombie staring at Rosie with a slightly opened mouth. 'Now, we don't want you to choke on a fly' she says before gently closing your mouth with her hand, while a gentle smile adorned her face.

That made you shut down completely. Usually you would make a comeback or bite off the hand, but now you were nothing like that. Who knew that someone could bring down a murderous psychopath to his knees with just a smile and a few words?

Even when you were covered in blood and unable to say anything, she couldn't help but think 'Cutie~'

She wouldn't mind getting to know you closer, what a bloody pleasure ❤️

She quickly gets interested in you, but it takes more time for her to actually develop romantic feelings

You quickly intrigue her, especially how someone as bloody and murderous like you can be so adorable and romantic

You two give off Morticia and Gomez vibes, you can fight me on this

She sometimes teases you for blushing and/or stuttering around her. She can't help but find you adorable

You two would develop a tradition of meeting up in the Cannibal Town for some tea and snacks

Since both of you can get quite bloody, she would invite you to her Emporium to try out some body parts. Definitely learns your favourites

Someone: why are you two together?

Rosie: he makes me laugh

Reader, covered in blood: •⩊•🔪

A/N: The photos aren't mine, found them on Pinterest

Thanks for your request, I had fun with it😊✨

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Summer Fic Week 2023 - Day 1: Going Down Swinging

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary: It's the hottest day of the year, you're exhausted from a mission, and all you want is your bed. Unfortunately, the elevator in Avengers' tower throws a spanner in the works.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5373

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Summer Fics Masterlist.

Taglist: @kittimbo @mcximffs @noz4a2 @rottenstyx @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @alternativeprincess @annocaprosmaloka @thrutheburnout @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye

Taglist info.

Notes:

Hello and welcome to my week of summer themed fics! I'll be posting a fic every day for a week.

warnings for unprotected sex, creampie, hate-fucking, pietro is a lech, ankle injury, trapped in an elevator, reader has an IUD, oral (both receiving), reader and pietro are both switches, teasing, sweating, heatwave, teensy bit of angst

---

You were exhausted. It was a hundred degrees, and you’d spent the better part of the day fighting some freshly superpowered men on the streets of New York.

Your mission had had two parts: neutralise and bring in the powered people; and retrieve the stolen alien tech they’d used to give themselves the power to manipulate and control energy.

Your foes’ inexperience had been a gift and a curse. On one hand, you outstripped them in every sense: physically, mentally and tactically. On the other, they were unpredictable, with powers barely in their control. That made them very dangerous, especially on the crowded streets of New York City in summertime.

You and the rest of your team – Clint, Natasha, Steve, Wanda and Pietro – had all made it back in one piece. There had been a few civilian injuries but no casualties. Two of the men you’d been fighting, however, had died in the process. Their powers had overcome them and they’d exploded before you could subdue them.

That was the trouble with messing around with alien tech. You never knew what it would do to a human body.

Of course, you had to feel sorry for them. There but for the grace of God…

You had received your powers from dangerous alien tech as well, though through no fault of your own. You had been a junior scientist working for a brilliant xenobiologist, but a lab accident had left him dead and you with the ability to move objects with your mind.

When SHIELD had found you, you’d been out of control and terrified out of your mind. They had brought you in, though, with zero casualties. That you were forever grateful for. You weren’t sure how you could live with yourself otherwise.

You had been an Avenger for several years before a couple more enhanced test subjects had joined the team: the Maximoff twins. Wanda was withdrawn and unsociable, but Pietro was unbearable. He was arrogant, he was cruel and he always found ways to push your buttons.

You were sick to death of Pietro Maximoff, and his pretty eyes, and his toned body, and the way he would leer at you when you stared for half a second too long, because he knew. He always knew.

When you had realised that you would be on a mission with him today, you had groaned, but you knew it made sense. You had experienced being on the other side of this situation. So had the twins. It was also a good opportunity to train up the Maximoffs, who were the newest recruits to the Avengers.

So you had bit your tongue and fought alongside them, and stayed the hell away from Pietro.

Now, as your half-unzipped costume hung from your shoulders, boots in your hands as your bare feet padded across the cool tiled floor, all you wanted was to shower and get into bed.

That wasn’t entirely true. You were hungry too, but too exhausted to even think about eating. You wondered who would be the most likely person to bring you food if you asked. You reckoned that Steve would do it, gentleman that he was.

You were almost home. You stepped into an elevator in Avengers’ tower and hit the button for your floor. The doors were sliding closed when a familiar silver-blue blur shot in between them. You groaned internally as another button lit up, and then Pietro Maximoff was standing next to you, grinning at you with that unbearably boyishly charming smile.

The door closed behind him before you could even think about escape.

“Boy, it’s hot in here,” he said in his smooth, Sokovian accent, and then, without another word, he pulled the shirt of his costume off over his head.

He did it slowly for him, at a normal pace for anyone else, which was how you knew it was for your benefit. If he really wanted to, he could be naked in milliseconds, but he did slowly to put on a show. Your cheeks heated up at the thought, and you looked away from him, but it was too late. You could see him smirking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Can’t you wait until you’re in your room before you start stripping?” you snapped.

He didn’t seem bothered at all by your anger. He never was. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. The elevator began to move, giving you an uncomfortable turn in your stomach that you were sure had nothing to do with the way Pietro was staring at you.

“Come on, prinţesă,” he practically cooed. It was a nickname that he knew you hated.

“I’m not your princessa-”

“Prinţesă,” he corrected. You had once asked him why he called you that, and he’d responded, “because you’re beautiful but you’re such a priss.” You had almost slapped him. Almost.

“I know you’re used to women falling at your feet, Pietro, but I don’t know why you bother with me. It’s never going to happen.”

“We’ll see,” he said in that unbelievably cocky tone. “In the meantime, you’re cute when you’re angry.” He reached out towards you, and you knew what he was going to do because he’d done it before. Before he could ping your bra strap, you slapped his hand away, glaring at him.

“You’re so-”

You were cut off by a horrible screech, and then a mechanical groaning sound. The lights flickered and the elevator came to a sudden, jarring halt, knocking you off balance. You fell back against the wall, and the red emergency lights came on.

“What the-” said Pietro, but you had already gone over to the wall panel hit the emergency call button.

“The elevator is broken, obviously.” The call button crackled. “Hello?” No response. “Hello?” There was a buzzing, and then it sputtered out and the entire panel went dark. “Shit.”

Instinctively, you patted where your pockets should be, but of course, your phone was in your room. Pietro’s suit didn’t have pockets either, and you’d both handed over your earpieces when you’d arrived back after the mission.

“Here, let me try.” He moved past you to get to the panel.

You glared at the side of his face. “All you do is press the button. It’s not like I did it wrong.” He ignored you, jabbing at the button several times in quick succession. “That’s not gonna-”

“Shut up,” he snapped, and you took a step back. Pietro might’ve been an asshole, but he wasn’t usually openly hostile to you. He preferred to annoy you in more subtle ways.

You stared at him. For the first time, you noticed that his hand was shaking. He was nervous.

“There’s a hatch,” you said, not quite apologising (why should you apologise?) but almost making amends. “If you give me a boost up there, I can see if I can climb up to the next floor and get the doors open.”

For once, he didn’t argue with you. He laced his fingers together and let you step into his hand, and, when you were ready, pushed you up towards the ceiling.

You had to put your hand on his head to keep your balance, uncomfortably aware of how close his face was to the vulnerable flesh of your stomach. Not that he would do anything. Still. You managed to pull the lever to open the hatch.

“Higher,” you said, and he grunted in response, lifting you up further. You were glad you couldn’t see him right now. You’d seen him working out in the gym, and exerting himself on the field. The way his muscles flexed always got you a little hot under the collar, and that was the last thing you needed right now.

You managed to grab onto the edge of the hatch and, with Pietro’s help, pushed yourself up onto the top of the elevator.

You stared up into the shaft above you, but it was very dark. You couldn’t see the doors for the floor above. With your hands on the wall, you looked for a ladder, but there was no sign of one.

“Any luck?” Pietro called out to you.

“Can’t see much.”

You did have an idea about how you could see a little more. You couldn’t fly, but with your telekinesis, you could hover a little. Projecting yourself into the air, you tried to get closer to where you thought the door might be. There was only more darkness.

Letting out a frustrated noise, you pushed yourself further up. Your body was trembling with the effort, sweat beading at your brow. High above you, you could make out lights. If that was the inside of the door, then you were a lot further away from it than you thought.

You tried to push yourself a little bit further, just to check if the door was truly what you were seeing, and faltered. As if your slick-sweat body had slid across a surface, your hold on yourself failed and you tumbled out of the air, landing hard on your ankle.

“Fuck.”

Pietro called out your name. He never called you by your name. You felt dazed.

“Are you okay?” he shouted.

“Yeah, I’m…” Your voice had come out high-pitched and wobbly as you choked on the pain in your ankle. You cleared your throat. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay. Come back down.”

You didn’t fancy trying to climb back down right now. All you wanted to do was stay in one place.

“I’m alright, I’m gonna stay up here for a bit.”

“You can’t stay on top of the elevator!”

You didn’t respond to that. After a few moments, you heard him call out your name again, and when you stayed silent, you heard a grunt, a clang, and then Pietro’s hands appeared at the edge of the hatch.

You were about to lean forward to help him up, but you didn’t have to. He pulled himself up onto the roof of the elevator beside you in an impressive display of upper body strength.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “It sounded like you fell.” It was much darker up here, so you couldn’t see his expression, which unnerved you, because for the first time since you’d known him, he actually sounded sincere.

“I did fall, but it’s okay.”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“… I landed awkwardly on my ankle.”

He tutted, but for once, it didn’t sound patronising. It sounded worried. “Let me look at it.”

“It’s dark.”

“Well, let me help you back into the elevator, and then look at it.”

“I’m not going back in. We need to get up to the doors.” You pointed vaguely upwards.

You saw Pietro’s silhouette shift as he looked where you were pointing. “There’s no way we’re making it up there. We need to go back in and wait for rescue. Someone will notice the elevator is out eventually.”

You groaned loudly. “I can’t imagine anything worse than being stuck in an elevator with you.”

“Well, you’re not exactly a barrel of laughs either, prinţesă.”

“Stop calling me that!”

He ignored you. “I’m going to climb back in, and then you’re going to lower yourself back down.”

“I’ll fall.”

“I will catch you. Come on.” His tone left no space to argue. He climbed back down into the hatch and landed back inside with a light thump. He was agile, like a cat. You were envious of that right now.

You swung your legs over so you were sitting on the edge of the hatch, your legs dangling into the elevator. You could see Pietro properly now, bathed in the red emergency lighting.

“Come on,” he repeated, holding up his arms. “I’ll catch you.”

“Are you sure?” An edge of nervousness was creeping into your tone.

He chuckled. “I have superspeed, prinţesă. I promise I won’t let you fall. Now drop down. I will catch you.”

He was watching you. That only made you more nervous. You had to close your eyes and shuffle forward. A hand, strong and strangely comforting, grabbed your calf.

“Just a little further, prinţesă.”

Squeezing your lips together, you edged closer. Pietro had a firmer grip on both of your legs now. Putting your life into your hands – or, to be honest, Pietro’s – you shoved yourself off the ledge.

Pietro’s hands let go of your calves and caught you around the waist. You clung to his shoulders as he held you there, feet dangling a foot off the ground.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. “I’m going to lay you down, alright? Let’s have a look at your ankle.” Swallowing, you nodded. 

Carefully, he lowered you to the ground. You held on tight to him until you were firmly sitting down, at which point you released each other. He hooked his hand under your calf again, gently lifting it up so he could get a closer look.

“It looks a little swollen,” he said. “Maybe you sprained it.”

“Maybe.”

“You should get some ice on it when we get out of here. And maybe see a medic, just in case.”

“… Thanks.”

“Here.” He picked up his shirt, which he had discarded at the corner of the elevator. He bunched it up and then placed it under your ankle. It didn’t do much to elevate it, but at least it cushioned it from the ground.

You leant back against the wall, stomach swirling. Pietro stood up and crossed the room, mirroring your position against the wall opposite. You closed your eyes, trying to think of some way to pass the time when you heard the sound of unzipping.

Your eyes flew open to find Pietro with his trousers halfway down his thighs. He was wearing black boxers underneath, which were sleek and strangely pretty.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax, prinţesă. I’m not going to take my underwear off.”

“Put your pants back on,” you hissed, and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s hot. My costume is too tight. I have no idea how long we’re going to be stuck here. I’ll boil alive if I keep it on.”

You huffed and looked away from him. You had to admit he had a point. It was very hot. You wriggled fully out of the top half of your costume, which had already been hanging off you. You were wearing a vest underneath, so at least you were more modest than Pietro, who was now sitting in his boxers with his costume in his lap. There was no way you were taking off the bottom half, no matter how hot it got in here.

A bead of sweat rolled down your neck, and you felt it heading for your cleavage. You grimaced. You’d kill for a bottle of water right now. And ice. For your ankle and for everywhere else.

You glanced back at Pietro and found him staring at your chest.

“You’re shameless, you know that?” you said, no heat behind your voice. You were too sweaty and exhausted to fight anymore.

“I can’t help myself, prinţesă. You have a great rack. It draws the eye.”

It was one of the cruder Americanisms that he’d picked up since he moved to New York.

“Fuck off, Pietro. I’m not begging to be ogled, unlike you. I mean, you were practically doing a striptease earlier.”

A grin spread across his face. “Did you like it?”

You rolled your eyes. “I was just trying to get back to my room to sleep. I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with…” You gestured at him. “All of this.”

He cocked his head to the side, resting his chin on his palm. “What are you dealing with, prinţesă?”

“You!” you snapped. You shoved yourself onto your knees, your costume flapping around your waist. “I’m so sick of you!” You wobbled to your feet, but thankfully your ankle seemed to be able to support your weight.

As you stalked towards him, you were pretty sure you were actually gonna hit him this time, and from the look on his face, you could tell he thought so too.

“Careful,” he warned, on his feet in a split second. “Your ankle-”

You barrelled into him, grasping his chin with one hand and dragging him down to your level. His eyes went very wide, but you were already kissing him.

Wait.

Kissing him?

You were supposed to be hitting him!

His hands dropped to your waist, smoothing over the fabric of your vest, and you leant into him, letting him take the weight off your ankle.

“You’re so,” kiss, “fucking,” kiss, “annoying,” you muttered, and you felt him smile against your lips. “I hate you,” you snarled, pulling away from him, but he held you in position.

“No, you don’t,” he said fondly.

“You’re, ugh-” Your words stuttered to a halt as he pressed a kiss to the spot below your ear, and then one further down at the column of your throat.

“You seem tense,” he said, sounding smug. “Let me help with that.”

Despite yourself, you pressed against him, and then leant back to look at him suddenly. “Are you hard?”

“Honestly? I’ve had a semi since you took your top off.”

You let out a growl of frustration, pushing him back. That shouldn’t have turned you on nearly as much as it did. You cupped him through his boxers and watched the smug smile disappear. His lips parted and he exhaled hard. That was much better.

“Take these off,” you said.

“Feisty,” he said, but dutifully removed his boxers. He was moderately well-endowed, and the thatch of hair around the base of his cock was brown, not platinum blonde. It was something you had wondered about, on hot lonely nights when he’d pushed your buttons just a little too hard during the day.

You wrapped your hand around his cock and squeezed, watching the expression on his face change. He swore quietly, his hands going to your waist, gripping your vest. You swatted his hands away.

“Lie down.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, but did as he was told. He sat down on the ground in one fluid motion, and then lay back, hands behind his head. He was stupidly, unfairly, annoyingly attractive. You knelt down in front of him.

“Shut up,” you said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, continue not saying anything.”

He ignored you. “You know I’m completely naked and you’re still wearing most of your clothes. How is that fair?”

You huffed out a mirthless laughed. “Only because you decided toget practically naked before we even got started. How is that my fault?”

He shrugged, which was a slightly awkward motion in the position he was in. “That doesn’t matter. I want to see you.”

Lips pressed tightly together, you pulled off your vest and then your bra in quick succession. His eyes went wide and he reached for you, but again, you pushed him away.

“Hands to yourself.” And then you bent forward and wrapped your lips around his cock. He swore loudly. You supposed that was a good sign.

He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Pietro was a naturally fidgety person, so they twitched by his sides, trying to find something to hold onto.

You pulled back, letting your cock fall out of his mouth. “What are you doing?”

“You said to keep my hands to myself!”

“Well, this,” you gestured to the motions his hands were making, “is offputting.”

“What do I-” You grabbed both his hands in yours and guided them up to your hair.

“Better?”

He gulped and nodded. You leant forward again and licked a stripe up his cock. His grip tightened, pulling hard enough to hurt, but the pain sent a sizzling sensation through your body.

Still, you wouldn’t let him set the pace, as much as he was trying to. You bobbed your head up and down, swirling your tongue around him. He groaned deeply.

“Prinţesă, maybe you should stop. I’m not gonna last very long if you keep- Fuck.”

You ignored him, continuing to push. Your hand came up to fondle his balls, thumbing over the crease between them. His fingers tightened in your hair, not pulling you off him, but warning.

“I’m gonna- Fuck.”

The hot, salty taste of his cum hit the back of your tongue. You swallowed it, taking pride in the way he whimpered as you sucked him clean.

“Prinţesă, baby, I…” He sounded wrecked. You relinquished your hold on him pulling back and letting him breathe. His eyes were glassy as he stared back at you. “That was… Fuck.”

“You said that already.”

He sat up suddenly, crowding into your space. You were ready to tell him to fuck off again, but then he kissed you, his tongue pressing insistently into your mouth. It was like he was trying to taste himself on you. Maybe he was. He was a narcissist, after all.

When you’d both run out of breath, he pulled back. His cheeks were pink, his eyes bright and shiny with excitement.

“Can I touch you?” He said the words in a low voice that sent tingles down your spine. Here was the flirty, seductive Pietro you knew. You wondered how many women he’d used this voice on. You wondered if it worked every time. It was working on you. You nodded.

His hands were uncharacteristically clumsy as he tugged at your costume, trying to get the bottom half off. You loosened the straps and lifted your hips up so that he could pull them off you.

Now, in just your panties, you were feeling pretty exposed. Sensing your nervousness, he kissed you again. Gentle, insistent hands pushed you until you were lying flat on your back. He moved with you, covering you with his body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into the skin of your neck. Every breath across your skin left goosebumps in its wake. You trembled, and you were sure he felt it, but for once, he didn’t seem all that smug about it.

You were worried he might try to give you a hickey, but his lips continued to press soft kisses against your skin, persistently kissing and licking, not sucking. You carded your hands through his hair, breathing in time with him.

He moved lower until his mouth found a nipple. You twitched, almost pushing away out of instinct – you were very sensitive – but he held you still with one hand on your shoulder, the other on your hip. His eyes flickered up to yours as he sucked, and his lip quirked up into that annoying (sexy) smirk.

“I was right,” he mused as he nosed his way along the valley between your breasts, lazily looking for your other nipple.

“About what?” Your question came out breathless. He’d just found it and bitten gently down.

“You do have a great rack.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” This time, he said it in a sing-song voice as he travelled further down, laying kisses along your stomach that made your muscles jump. “In fact,” he said, lips grazing over the waistband of your panties. “I think you like me.”

“I do not.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, his lips hovering over your clothed pussy. He was right there, where you wanted him most, but he wasn’t moving anymore. Instead, he was very gently nuzzling at you through the fabric.

You let out a huff of frustration. “Stop teasing me.”

“I’ll stop teasing when you admit you like me.”

You snapped your mouth shut, glaring down at him. He stared back up at you with amusement in his eyes, kissing along your inner thigh. It was torture.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You like it.”

“Fine!” you snapped. “I fucking like it! I like you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You barely heard his response because your heart was beating so loudly. The blood was rushing in your ears. What were you doing?

“That’s good,” he said, tugging down your panties. “Because I like you too.”

That was all the warning you got before he dove into your pussy. His hands came up, parting your lips so that he could explore your folds with his tongue. The noises that were falling from your lips were frankly embarrassing. You tried to cover your mouth, but Pietro slowed down.

“If you don’t let me hear those god damn moans, I swear I won’t let you cum,” he said. You glared at him, but removed your hands.

He held you down, one hand resting flat against your belly button. His tongue danced over your clit, moving in patterns so fast you couldn’t follow them. It was like his tongue was a vibrator, and you felt a telltale warmth building inside you.

“Pietro!” you moaned, unable to hold back any longer. You grabbed a handful of his hair, holding him as tight to you as you could. You ground down against him, riding your orgasm out on his face.

In the immediate aftermath, you felt too good to be embarrassed. He slid his fingers inside you, filling you with a fresh sensation of pleasure.

“I, uh… Don’t have any condoms,” he said.

You let out a grunt of frustration. “I don’t care.” And then, as an afterthought, “I have an IUD.”

“I get tested regularly.” That made sense. From what you knew, he was a bit of a player.

“I haven’t had sex since my last test.”

“So I can…?”

“Just fuck me, Pietro.”

He hooked a hand under your hip and flipped you over onto your hands and knees. You let out an undignified squeak, which quickly turned into a moan when he pressed against you from behind.

At first, he put just the tip inside you, until you whined and pushed back against him. He slid in further, and you exhaled. It was a strange relief, having him fill you up like that. It was as though, from the moment you’d met, the two of you had been heading for this moment. Now he was inside of you and you were sprawled out underneath him, you felt fuzzy and warm.

As he slid all the way inside you, you leant your forearms on the ground and rested your forehead on your hands. The metal floor was cool against your skin, which was nice because you felt like you were burning up everywhere that Pietro was touching you.

After a moment, you said, “you can move.” He let out a groan of relief.

His movements started slow. He was exceptionally consistent, thrusting in a perfectly even rhythm, hitting just the right spot inside you every time. You wondered if it was practise, or if his powers helped. He certainly had stamina.

“You feel so good, pretty girl,” he murmured, stroking your hip. “So tight around my cock.”

You felt your walls clench involuntarily, which drew a choked out groan from Pietro, making his rhythm falter for the first time. He regained his composure quickly, sliding a hand into your hair as he began to speed up.

Your g-spot was being pummelled, and every thrust pushed the air out of your lungs, forcing you into a gasping rhythm of ‘ah, ah, ah’s.

As his movements grew more desperate, Pietro’s hands were everywhere, lightly scratching down your back, squeezing your breasts, anchoring himself on your hips. When his hand finally found his way down between your legs, you knew it was over for you.

With his fingers on your clit, breast squeezed tight in his other hand, hot breath in your ear, you came with a gasp.

“Shit,” he hissed, and you could tell he was close. You continued to clench around him, even after the aftershocks of your orgasm, trying to push him over the edge. Still, he kept going.

You looked back at him over your shoulder and his eyes met yours, pupils blown with lust. You smiled at him, and he swore under his breath. He clung to you, spilling his cum inside you.

You felt cold as soon as he pulled out of you. There was a gnawing feeling in your gut. Regret. You shouldn’t have done this. He was your coworker. You hated each other.

(No you didn’t)

You rolled over into a sitting position, wincing as you felt his cum dripping out of you. You grabbed your discarded costume and shuffled over to the wall.

Pietro was sitting back on his heels, watching you. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head, but you felt tears prickling at your eyes. He leant forwards, putting what was supposed to be a comforting hand on your knee. You flinched. He pulled back like he’d been burnt.

“Was I too rough?” There was an earnest expression in his eyes. “Did I hurt you? Is it your ankle?”

“No,” you said, your voice thick. “It was good.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“We’re still stuck here. What do we do now?”

Pietro was about to answer, but he was interrupted by your stomach rumbling loudly. He regarded you for a moment, and then scooted over to where the trousers of his costume were discarded. He dug around in them for a moment, and then produced a granola bar, which he slid across the floor towards you.

“Here,” he said. “Eat this.

“Where were you hiding that?” you asked, picking it up and unwrapping it.

He grinned at you, boyish charm back in full force. “Secret pocket.”

“You have a secret snack pocket in your suit?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

You knew he wasn’t joking. He had to eat a lot. Something about his metabolism. You had seen him at mealtimes, loading up his plate. It made sense that he kept emergency snacks on him.

Right now, you were very grateful for them. You felt your anxiety draining away as you ate.

“Next time, I’ll buy you a real dinner.”

You paused. “Next time?”

“Yeah. If you want to.”

You opened your mouth, but at that moment, the main lights flickered back on. There was a moment of silence, and then the elevator juddered to life. It was moving upwards again.

You had the sudden, horrifying realisation that you were naked, with Pietro’s cum dripping out of you.

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” You fumbled with your panties, but changed your mind at the last second. Trousers were more important. As you struggled to pull them up, Pietro put his boxers and trousers back on in half a second flat.

Your vision went white. You blinked, and you realised you were wearing your vest. Pietro must’ve put it on you.

Meeting your eyes, he slipped your panties into his pocket. “I’ll be holding onto these.” He winked at you. Your cheeks burned.

DING.

The doors of the elevator opened and you scrambled to your feet. Steve and Sam were standing on the other side of the doors, staring at you both. Steve looked horrified, but Sam looked more amused.

You quickly tucked your bra under the shirt of your costume, which was hanging over your arm.

“Hey guys,” you said, trying to sound casual. “The elevator got stuck.”

“There was a power cut,” said Sam. “But I don’t wanna know what you two got up to in here. I’m taking the other elevator until this one has been thoroughly sterilised.” He turned and walked away. Steve stole one last shocked glance at you, before following him.

You looked at Pietro, and found him looking back at you. Sudden, uncontrollable, laughter bubbled up from your chest. Pietro began to laugh too, which only made you laugh harder. You grabbed onto his arm to keep your balance.

“Did you see Steve’s face?” asked Pietro between gasps, and you doubled over, hands over your stomach.

You laughed until there was no more breath in your lungs.

When you had both finally got over your fit of hysterics, you realised that you were leaning on each other. Instead of stepping away, Pietro leant down, pressing your foreheads together. It was a brief touch. He pulled away and you found yourself wishing he hadn’t.

“Next time?” he asked, a tinge of hope in his voice.

You swallowed. “Next time.”  

---

Notes:

Preview of tomorrow's fic: sharing a tent with Steve Harrington.

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter 16.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin)

Word Count: 5.4K

Summary: flashback six - also known as the day of the heist

Warnings: this chapter heavily explores and discusses themes of peril, thoughts of self harm and self destruction, hopelessness, death, violence, and torture. if you are triggered by these topics, i would suggest skipping this chapter.

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 16 - FLASHBACK: SIX

note: the next couple of chapters will be heavily influenced by the ova 'no regrets'. they are my interpretations of the material. please watch those episode first, otherwise you will get spoiled on elements revolving around levi's backstory.

The silence of the Underground City spoke volumes.

At this rate, you’ve gone over the plan — and the potential ways it can go horribly wrong — at least a dozen times. 

Only so many distress signals can be sent from three people outrunning an entire Military Police unit, so you've employed all of them.

First, there’s the stolen flares.

They’re sparingly used, if ever, when it’s the four of you on a job. Two teams of two has easily been your best formation tactic.

A slight change to a single team of three should not cause much difficulty, especially when it involves veterans like Church, Ackerman, and Magnolia.

(You've already waited a half hour. No flare ever ignites.)

Next, if someone loses their grip on a flare canister, then the pursued team resorts to high-altitude flying.

At the height you’re perched upon — the rooftop of a dilapidated apartment complex overlooking the northern half of the Underground — you’d be able to see at least one person flipping and weaving through even the tallest buildings.

(Another half hour passes. No one ever breaches the skyline.)

The last option, should any ODM gear jam and fail, is more human: eyesight. 

With the B-team units ordered to be stationed around the Underground City, your three friends should be covered. If it looks like the Military Police have the upper hand, then you can quickly get the rest of the gang to safety.

You told Levi you wouldn't run after him, that you would keep your promise and stick to the plan, but now that it's been over an hour of radio silence?

You're not so sure.

Because there are no clouds in the Underground, your sightline is clear. Idly your ODM gear sits on either hips, hands occupied by the mechanism's handles that will boost you at a moment’s notice. Below you on the street stand your appointed security, both gang veterans, looking for any stray MPs roaming the area.

Every second waiting for Levi, Isabel, and Furlan to return from their heist route spans to eternity.

Over and over your eyes scan, checking between rooftops — nothing.

Your attention drops to the streets — nothing.

Silence creeps to a ninety-minute drag.

No flares sound.

No bodies fly.

“C’mon, Ackerman,” you mumble under your breath, flexing your left hand to give your body something to do — to avoid pulling the trigger too fast on a rescue operation.

He was explicit about not coming for him.

He was explicit and he was stupid to think you’d never come for him.

He was stupid to think—

“James!”

A panicked, shrill voice, however, sounds from the street.

You whip your attention to the east, taking your eyes off of the skyline for a belated beat.

The rogue voice screeches with urgency a second time.

“James!”

It's young and feminine and terrified.

You shift a boot towards the sound, squeezing the metal handles in your palms with your index fingers at the ready.

“Hey! Where is she? Please, tell me James is here.”

She seems out of breath, like she ran a great distance to get here.

You draw a line with your sight from where her footsteps originated: she came from the south.

Most of your units are pushed towards the north, where Levi stated the job would take place.

One of the seasoned lackeys, a younger man, grunts to her in response. “Who’s askin’?”

“I need to speak with James,” she urges, ignoring his question with a wavering tone. “Please—”

“She’s busy, kid,” the second man replies. “Spit it out if somethin’—”

“They caught Levi!”

Her shriek almost makes your foot slip, causing a roof shingle to dislodge.

Time ceases to exist.

Levi.

Below you hear the young men argue with her and the exchange of pleas that follow, but there is no distinction of sound to you. Their words are muddied as if your head has been dunked underwater.

You can't run to her. Anxiety grabs you by the scruff of your neck to hold you in place.

What's wrong with Levi?

Move.

Did something happen to Levi?

Move.

Without thinking, your hand ignites the ODM switch in your left hand to propel a spear into the stone wall from across the street. 

You swiftly swing down from your perch, finally catching a glimpse of the girl in question:

The girl — you remember her first name being Lucy — is as pale as a ghost. Her entire body trembles like a decaying leaf, as though she’s witnessed something horrific that she can’t scrub from her line of sight.

(What the hell did she see?)

Her shoulders relax once she spies your face, but not enough to quell your concern when tears well into her eyes.

“James! Oh my god, you’re here,” Lucy breathes, taking a step forward like you’re willing to console her with a comforting arm. "I tried to get here as fast as I—"

“Repeat what you just said about Ackerman,” you demand without solace. “Now.”

You take one pace back, ignoring the spike in your heart rate as the scenario snowballs in your mind’s eye.

From your peripheral vision, you see several others from the gang join the fray.

The two other lookouts on Lucy’s team run down the tiny guarded street, equally out of breath and panicked.

“We saw it happen in the southeast corner!” one of the running girls exclaim.

You — and the rest of the gang — turn in that direction. You can feel your throat seize.

He said the job was going to be in the northern half of the city.

How the fuck did they end up in the south quadrant?

"We followed them when the job changed course," Lucy explains as if she can read your mind. "Levi ordered Furlan and Isabel to cut south. Too many MPs were waiting in the north."

"But the job was in the north," you numbly reason.

“It might have been a trap, we don't know!" she desperately chirps. "A bunch of MPs went after them on ODM gear so we followed by foot. They were chasing Furlan through the streets. A few of them fell back and we thought maybe they gave up, but then a bunch of new people came out of nowhere and they all had green cloaks with wings—”

“Wings?” you snap, unable to stop your eyes from widening.

You whip your attention back to the young girl. Lucy cowers at your unyielding gaze.

“...yeah,” she answers, meek and uncertain. “They didn’t have the same jackets as the MPs. They had wings on their backs, on the cloaks and the jackets.”

A cloud of fearful whispers spreads like wildfire through the small crowd, infecting the minds of the reconnaissance team under your command.

It isn’t uncommon anymore for the Military Police patrolling the Underground to show up with ODM gear. It used to be a rarity, but now? They know better than to show up empty-handed.

Years of embarrassment have taught the thick-headed MPs a valuable lesson.

But green cloaks — and wings?

You can’t be mistaken by their meaning:

The Scout Regiment.

The military branch where suckers with death wishes band together to expire. They seek to explore the unknown, taking off on brainless expeditions past the city walls and into whatever Hell awaits on the other side.

(Why the fuck would they send the goddamn suicide squad to the Underground?)

You don’t need to live on the surface to know the stories: a third of Scout recruits barely make it past their first mission. And by the end of their first service year, the death toll rises to half. 

The only dumbasses left standing with the Wings of Freedom on their back are those who desperately want to die but can never find the right titan to eat them.

And, according to the stories, their missions beyond Wall Maria always come up empty-handed.

A thought passes through your mind like a papercut, stinging your blood cells with the very real possibility that they’ve turned their efforts inward — whether at the demand of the king or the disappointment of the people paying their salaries is unclear.

(Is the Underground City their new playground?)

If so, then Levi — this gang — could very well be their first dedicated target.

“Where?” 

The word spills out of your mouth, starting in your mind as a demand but dissolving to a murmur.

Going, running, to wherever the Military Police — or God forbid, the Scout Regiment — have your friends is the only plan of action you can think of. 

You’re supposed to make sure the people here are fine.

The need to run — go, go, go — far outweighs your logic.

“I…” The girl falters.

You hate how your voice erupts in the wake of your fear. “Where, Lucy?!”

“I don’t know! I lost track of them!” she yelps, squeezing her amber eyes shut. The hands at her sides are balled into tight, painful fists. “Isabel and Furlan got taken down by some MPs, but Levi kept going on ODM gear. He outran most of the MPs, but there was a man, a tall blonde guy, who—”

“Was he a Scout?” you press on, gritting your teeth. “Did you see the Wings of Freedom?”

“The fucking Scouts are here?” someone yelps behind you. “Oh, shit, dude. Oh, man…”

“What the hell are they doing down here?” another asks next to him. “They don’t fuck with the Underground!”

“Did the Wall missions fail?” an older girl asks under her breath. “Are they coming to wipe all of the Underground City out now?”

“Quiet,” you order, holding up a hand. It takes tensing your arm to keep the limb from shaking. “Lucy: where did you last see Levi?”

“The blonde man chased him out of the sky and into the streets. No one knows. We couldn’t see where they went, but it… I’m so sorry, James.”

Lucy’s voice is so small that you barely hear her.

All you can focus on is his voice ringing in your head, a whisper against the thin line of white noise filling your body.

Protect them.

You’re ready.

You’re so ready to fire up your ODM gear to chase after him, to fight off every single bastard who thinks about laying a finger on your friends.

We won’t get arrested. We’re too fast on ODM gear.

“What do we do, James?”

The MPs won’t stand a chance.

“Can she hear us? Is she freaking out?”

You want me to be the last person standing.

“James!”

Lucy shrieks in your face, breaking your delusion.

You blink back into your body to see a dozen faces staring back at you in various stages of grief.

Fear.

You focus on the way a tear streams down Lucy’s youthful face. It brings you back to when you picked her up off the streets. A kid, just like you, looking for food scraps and shelter — her mother had passed away at a young age, leaving her to fend for herself.

You knew what that was like, so you promised protection. A roof over her head. Food in her belly.

A chance at life.

Just like he once gave to you.

Now you’re the only leader left standing. The other three are either arrested — or worse.

You’re all that stands between dragging her back to the streets or pushing her to the gallows.

(You’re all anyone in this gang has.) 

I need you to be safe.

Levi’s voice tickles the outer shell of your ear, whispering past despite the dead wind.

You want to hate him. You really do.

But you promised.

Lucy’s lower lip trembles as she takes a step forward. 

This time you stay put, too frozen from the numbness in your body. 

“James… please, tell us: what do we do?”

You don’t know.

You wish you did, but you don’t know.

You want to tell them to run, to run as fast as they can and never look back.

You want to tell them that you don’t know how to do this without Isabel or Furlan.

You want to tell them you’d rather die than know a life without Levi.

But you promised.

I’ll keep them safe.

I know you will. Echoing in your mind like an omen. I trust you.

“If they’re arrested, then the MPs will be storming the apartment at any minute.”

You finally answer without an ounce of emotion. You can’t stomach thinking past protocol.

“We don’t have time to get our stuff. Organize yourselves into teams of three. Find the safe houses and don't come out until you hear from me. Take a single runner out to Roxy’s. They owe me a few favors, so they should give you table scraps until this blows over.”

“Are you getting Ackerman?” An older girl holding onto her brother’s small shoulders pipes up from your right.

“And Church?” Another person asks. “Magnolia?”

Refusing to think further than the present crisis, you shake your head.

“They all knew the risks of this heist. Right now, my priority is keeping everyone here safe. So go — and avoid detection the best you can. Leave the rest to me, alright?"

You pause, making eye contact with those staring at you. In front of you is a gradient of nerves.

(Everyone knows the risks of running with a gang in the Underground, no matter the price.)

"I said go, goddamnit!”

At your shouted order, most don’t hesitate to run.

The crowd forms into smaller clusters of refugees as they run towards the emergency routes you’ve mapped a hundred times before.

You don’t have time to panic.

You don’t have time to mourn about what could have been.

(A house gleaming in the sunlight with its windows open. The scent of a fresh meal being cooked. The soft meow overlapping over pleasant conversation about nothing at all.)

After all, you made a promise — 

And if three of the Underground’s most notorious gang leaders have been caught, then it’s only a matter of time until the manhunt ends with you.

.

.

.

.

  Week after week, your numbers dwindle. 

Day in and day out, houses are raided for anyone associated with Ackerman, Church, and Magnolia.

Bars, brothels, and drug dens are scoured for that missing puzzle piece.

Military Police, emboldened by their victory, are adamant to find anyone involved in their gang.

Most found are arrested.

Some offer information for a chance at immunity.

By the fourth week, the gang dissolves into half of its original number.

However, the rampant pursuit slows after the sixth week, and by the seventh, the Military Police stop searching.

The city becomes boisterous again for an entirely different reason, falling back to its routes of debauchery and strife.

Panic of those still in hiding twists into remorse, remorse into doubt, and soon the doubt creeps into what was once an impenetrable fortress.

And somewhere you failed.

Maybe it was because you kept your promise and never went after Levi, Isabel, and Furlan the day they disappeared.

Maybe it was because no one ever saw them again, creating a shroud of mystery in their disappearances. Most people assumed they were arrested and tortured for information. Others hoped they were able to at least die in a merciful way.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because you gave up.

The longer you fought without your three friends, the longer you ran around the Underground City hiding from authority, the harder it became to remember why you were trying so hard to be the last person standing. 

Hiding with nothing to go back to — that was what waited for you at the end of all of this.

To make new headquarters on mere piles of rubble, alone.

People continue to get caught. 

People continue to lose their lives.

You were ready—

Ready to give up.

Ready to join the fate of so many others.

Ready to lose.

(All things considered, you had a good run.)

.

.

.

.

  Eight weeks.

It takes eight whole weeks for someone to finally rat you out.

In exchange for immunity, a scared newcomer snitched to the Military Police about the location of your hideout — and you can’t blame them.

The Underground City has always been a dog-eat-dog pit.

That, however, doesn’t mean you don’t still run.

The crisp, metallic zip of the pulley cuts the air every time you push through the alleyways, leaving the Military Police unit in the dust. Wind frays your hair, whipping pieces of it into your face as you run along brick walls and push for the a momentous swing.

It has been weeks of these chases, all evaded in the dust, but something feels different about this pursuit.

The officers feel confident this time.

Ready.

Another unit of MPs pursue on foot, shouting and taunting for your surrender, but they're no match for your swift escape.

The two officers following with ODM gear cannot match the sharpness of your turns.

You don’t know why you keep running.

Why can’t you just stop running?

In your lingering rage you almost want to turn back, take a knife, and attack.

To earn the heaviness of a murder charge on your shoulders. 

You want to lash out—

To make someone hurt— 

But you just keep running.

In your time of solitude, you've wondered how the end of all things went that day. Did those pigs take turns kicking Furlan with his hands tied behind his back? Did they drag Isabel through the street? Did they cut out Levi's tongue for back talk?

You hope they gave the MPs hell.

The imaginative injustices — the cruelty — fuels your fantasy of revenge.

Through another alleyway and into the streets, you latch onto another building and swing to your left to continue through the streets of— 

Wait.

Skirting around a corner, you see something briefly whip around a corner in a cloud of exhaust.

(Was that emerald?)

Your attention turns to the distinct color that entered your line of sight before it disappears.

Your eyes widen with recognition, but it's too late.

You failed again.

One look to your side is all it takes for a solid, heavy object to slam straight into you from the opposite direction, knocking a spear clean out of the neighboring wall.

The ODM gear jolts, causing you to jerk and drop abruptly to the dirt beneath. Your forearms shield your face from the dirt and debris as your body skids across the dirt path.

Before you even realize what's happening, you're scrambling to your feet. Metal clangs from the jostled handles in your palms as you push yourself up.

Your right arm reels back, fist clenched, and flies in an attempt to connect — and it does.

The punch lands directly in someone's face. The bone crunches under you knuckles.

A person yells in pain and grabs their nose, giving you ample opportunity to attack further. Your leg swings, kicking your boot square into their abdomen. You recognize the way their breath squelches: the wind rips right out of their lungs.

You want them to feel pain, just as you’ve felt pain.

You want them to suffer, just as you've suffered.

It doesn't matter who they are.

When the attacker is incapacitated, you make a choice: you turn the opposite direction, taking off into a sprint.

And you run, if only for a few seconds.

Because that very same emerald flash appears in your peripheral vision.

In just one breath, your feet get tangled up and send you flying to the ground you'd just found yourself lying upon.

A pair of hands suddenly tug at the back of your shirt, pushing you further into the muddied street. A forceful forearm presses down harder, pinning you to the ground. A pebble digs into your cheekbone, its jagged edge slicing into your skin. 

Trapped.

You grit your teeth, fighting the painful hold with everything you have. You shout and yell like a woman possessed, kicking your boots deeper into the Earth to propel forward, but you can't move.

(Give up — why can’t you just give up?)

Then a deep baritone voice pulls you from your erratic defenses, smooth like honey.

“James.”

Your last name on a stranger's tongue makes your stomach churn.

You continue fighting, digging the toe of your boot further for purchase.

Suddenly pain explodes in your scalp. Something pulls your chin high from the crown on your head, forcing your attention to the sky. What greets you is a tall, built figure above.

From the street lamp, you see it’s a man — early thirties, broad shouldered, with piercing blue eyes and neatly-combed blonde hair.

This mysterious man stares down at you, standing at full height. He doesn't acknowledge the person holding you down, knotting your hair in their balled fist.

One after the other, two more emerald cloaks drop down from the sky, their faces obscured by their hoods.

Blinking away from his face, you see it: his tan, cropped jacket, with white and blue wings outstretched against one another, pointing high with dignity.

The Wings of Freedom.

It's the Survey Corps, in the flesh.

“Four whole Scouts for little old me?” you chide.

The person holding you down rips your torso up higher, causing an immense strain in your spine.

You wince at the sensation of nearly being broken in half but refuse to make noise.

They don't get that satisfaction, not yet.

(You've felt worse.)

The blonde man above you does not react. He continues to stare, however, when he addresses another in his squadron.

“Get her up on her knees, Miche.”

The man behind you — presumably Miche — yanks you from the dirt to settle you on your calves. Without your arms to support you, you’re left floundering at his will.

“What?” you ask through clenched teeth. "Are the Scouts so bored of getting eaten alive that they've come to the Underground on a field trip?”

The man makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. His crystal blue eyes slide slowly from the crown of your head, past your face, then rest at your chest.

“Surface made?” he comments in a languid, baritone voice.

When you jostle against Miche's grip on your back, a feather-esque sensation brushes across your sternum.

Then you realize:

He’s staring at your necklace.

“Stolen?” the blonde man asks again, and venom poisons your tongue at his slander. Somehow you manage to hold a response.

You sneer instead, turning your attention to the side of a building.

A painful beat passes.

You hear the man’s boots near, crunching under packed dirt.

“My name is Commander Erwin Smith, of the Survey Corps," he introduces, not fazed by your lack of cooperation. "I was informed that you’re not only the muscle of this operation, but one of its four founding leaders. Is this true?”

He’s met with another stretch of silence.

“Handling operations for seven weeks without the help of your comrades is impressive.”

Another step.

“Or has it been closer to eight?”

“What do you want, surface scum?” you finally murmur, eyes locked on a particular patch of moss growing at the foundation of the building.

He exhales through his nose, contemplating. You continue to look away.

“Your protection is gone, James," Erwin begins. "Your gang, eradicated. Your people have fled — abandoned you, to save themselves.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him.

Erwin evades your feigned ignorance. “A bounty has been on your head for two months. You’ve done all you can to avoid detection, but from where I stand, I see someone out of options.”

Your nostrils flare, unwilling to betray yourself in the face of the truth.

He isn’t wrong — it’s been the end of the line for weeks now.

You’ve run on borrowed time and a promise you barely believe in anymore.

You’re so tired.

“The Military Police would be glad to round out their gallows with someone responsible for embarrassing them so thoroughly.”

Is that where Levi ended up, in the gallows next to Isabel and Furlan?

(Are they no longer alive, just as everyone suspected?)

When you continue to stare at the adjacent wall, the man behind you tugs at your mangled hair and rips your focus back to the man in front of you.

The toe of the Commander’s boot is in line with your muddied knee.

From this angle, he's practically on top of you.

“However, I believe the finality of a noose is a great waste of potential talent.”

His eyes bore into yours when he slowly, carefully, drops to your height. His ivory-white knee plants gently into the dirt.

You blink up to his face, unable to suppress your confusion.

“Potential talent?” you hiss back, ignoring the searing pain in your scalp. “What is this, a pitch?”

The Commander hums. “I don’t pretend to know how extensive your crimes are, James. What I do know, however, is that you have an out.”

“Yeah?” you ask. “And what’s that, O' Golden One?”

Erwin’s eyes drop to the ground, so you follow suit without moving your head. From the edge of your vision you see it — the ODM gear still hooked around your hips.

“How long did it take you to properly handle ODM gear?” he asks with a genuine intrigue.

“Barely took me a week,” you lie under your breath.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he agrees. “Most of our recruits take months, sometimes even years, to masterfully scale the way you can.”

“Sounds shitty to me.”

“In a way.” A beat passes. Commander Erwin’s jaw sets. “Which is why I’m asking you to join the Scout Regiment under my command.”

You can’t help it — the anger disappears in a bark of a laugh.

It’s a request you never see coming, not a million years or a thousand lifetimes.

You’ve avoided the Military Police for weeks, only for a Scout to offer you… what? A twisted version of salvation in his army? 

The words blurt out of your mouth faster than you can help it.

“Join the Scouts?” He nods once to your yelp of a question. “Are you fucking insane?”

“Are you?” Erwin challenges. “Both options lead to your death. The only difference is choosing to make your death matter.”

“A noose or being eaten alive,” you snidely respond. “Gosh, Commander, which sounds less painful?”

“What do you think your friends would have selected, if given a choice?”

The swiftly-timed question is a punch straight to your gut.

Unable to stop your eyes from widening, you hate how your blood chills with panic.

How you can see that glint in the commander’s eyes when he’s finally, finally, caught your weak spot.

Seeing the visceral reaction, he continues. "Before they expired, would they have chosen to die here? Or would they have chosen a new life."

Was he saying…?

Was he saying they were already dead?

Isabel. Furlan.

Le…

Your lower lip trembles as you hold back from thinking about that final name.

You barely recognize your own voice when you speak, low and dangerous.

“How dare you…”

Erwin’s gaze is unwavering. “I’m asking you—”

“Don’t talk about them.”

“—what would they have chosen.”

“I said don’t talk about them!” you shout in his face, losing your cool.

His chin tilts a fraction of an inch, expression stoic.

“Then what about your fellow comrades, the people who laid down their lives for your safety — would they have wanted a chance?”

Despite yourself, you push with your boot to propel towards the blonde. “You disgusting piece of sh— fuck!”  

Miche rips your head back impossibly further, exposing your neck to the Commander. Erwin stands tall, pulling out a long sword from its metal sheath. The cool, sharp end of the blade rests against your throat.

If he wanted to, he could end your life right here in the streets.

If he wanted to, he could make this so much easier on you.

But he won’t.

This isn’t about ease.

It’s about power, control — total submission.

A part of you wants to push against the blade to make it easier.

No noose. No titans.

Just here.

But you promised.

Last one standing.

“...what happened to them?” you ask, unable to stop the crack in your voice.

If this is it, then you might as well know.

Commander Erwin keeps his blade held towards you. “I don’t know.”

“But it was you that day, wasn’t it?” You ease down to your knees again. Miche loosens his hold on your body. “You're the one that went after them two months ago. When there was a heist, it wasn’t just MPs chasing them. There were Scouts—”

“I don’t have all day, James.”

He interrupts the beginning of your emotional spiral with cutthroat apathy. His arm lowers when you do not retaliate. 

“Your hand-to-hand combat expertise is needed within our regiment. Combine that with your unique ODM handling, and I see a formidable redemption in your future—”

He continues to speak, detailing your servitude should you accept his terms.

You can feel the fight, the fire, ebbing to dying ember.

You’re so tired.

You’re so done with running.

(I’m so sorry, Levi.)

“—and you would presume a title under my command, the rank of a Lieutenant—”

“Wait.”

He pauses when you speak up, catching the oddity of his words. Your lifeless vision connects with his.

“Lieutenants don’t exist in your shitty Scout Corps.”

Erwin nods. “That’s correct. Lieutenants do not."

"Then why..."

"A title will deter animosity. Those who look down at you cannot question your authority."

"Because I'm not from the surface," you reason.

"Yes," he says.

"You're willing to give me an edge on the rest of your people. Why?" You watch him, trying to figure him out before he tells you for himself. “Why not just make me regular front-line titan fodder?”

Erwin seems to consider this, if only for a beat.

Then he speaks with an unshakable certainty:

“Because you know what it means to survive. That, in itself, is vital.”

Your shoulders slump as your body shuts down from the eternal fight.

So this is a choice, but it’s no choice at all.

Your life will not matter in the Scouts. The commander is right: you will die, perhaps not today, but at least choosing the Scouts guarantees the sunrise one single time.

Just like you once promised you'd see with the three of your friends.

And in the moment you mourn — the loss of your friends, the loss of your life, what could have been if that job really had worked out.

(What does it matter when you die, so long as it's soon?)

You grip onto a sense of hopelessness like a vice.

Grief.

Then—

Rage.

As swift as a sudden earthquake, you feel it tremble from your shins to your knees, up your torso and through your heart, filling every red hot blood cell in your body.

It was him.

You’re so sure of it.

Commander Erwin would have been the one responsible for turning Levi, Furlan, and Isabel into the Military Police. He was the one who would have sent your friends to their deaths — or did he kill them himself?

And if he was the one to kill them, then why would he offer you a choice to escape?

(Was this the same choice he gave the others?)

Levi would have never agreed to the Scouts. Furlan, Isabel — they would have followed whatever he chose.

They must have died the very day the heist went wrong eight weeks ago.

It’s why Erwin won’t confirm or deny their fates.

Sickness floods your body, but you hold onto the one thing that will keep their spark with you.

That rage.

They really think you’ll comply.

They really think you won’t burn and take the Scout Regiment down with you.

You’ll kill him.

You’ll kill Commander Erwin Smith, then Miche, then every single Scout that steps into your path until someone’s smart enough to take you down themselves.

“Fine, then.”

You speak, knowing your word is as doomed as the fire in your veins.

“I’ll do it."

You meet Erwin's intense gaze, signing your fate with blood on the dotted line.

"I’ll join the Scouts.”

.

author's note: I'm glad we collectively giggled and screamed and kicked our feet in the last few chapters. It was a marvelous time. Now I'm out here ruining everything.

tag list: @lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul @dailydoseof-love @maliakealoha @nube55 @kateastrophies @blinkingsuns @gomigami @voidszoro @tanyeonn @chishiyasan @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @vigilancio @nomi98 @urfavcelestialangel @milkersonmac @blossomedfloweroflove @carries-blenders-and-stuff @hurtcomfortwhore

[mtchacffinz]

tempestuous temper, kalpas pt. 1

prompt! "Sorry I didn't mean to moan like that my bad" but it worked in your favor 🤭

content! kalpas x fem!reader, manhandling, size kink, Kalpas dense dumbass, REALLY thirsty reader, extremely explicit

note! oh you guys aren't ready for me when I say I'm one of the biggest Kalpas dick rider over here i swear to god. this is pretty self indulgent so it has AFAB pronouns </3 by the way he hasn't shoved his dick in you here yet LMALOO.... yet.....

Kalpas was rude and unapproachable. His malice seeps off his entire body whenever you even show a slight interest in him with those pretty eyes of yours. The Flame-Chaser was dense and quick tempered, easily pissed off, and always looking for trouble.

You, however..

You were usually a sweet girl, a very very sweet girl. The kind of lady who gives flowers every so often to people she cherishes— you know, the kind who praises and pampers her friends every chance she gets. You were reserved, cheerful, polite, keep to yourself, and most of all, you really work hard. As a soldier, you believed that every life must be treated preciously, as if you only have one duty: to help create a sanctuary for humanity free of— or less of Honkai.

These attributes of yours served you tremendously. The Halo Effect never fails to accentuate your genuine kindness and tenderness you give out to others. But alas, such as Kalpas, Mobius, and many nameless others, it's often looked down upon when it's given correspondence to your occupation.

But the itch.. that undeniable itch you get just by letting your mind wander even for a little bit.. It's dangerous. Especially for mind readers in the MOTHS, you're sure to believe the Su himself started to mind his own business when he even catches a glimpse of you drooling. Your height has a big gap in-between the lines of those measuring meters with everybody else— His body could easily tower over you long before he even got his transformative surgery done (even if you had not seen it for yourself, Elysia has told you many times!). You shift your body from where you stand. Those quick glances you give Kalpas every time your paths pass— every stolen gaze would leave him wondering: what the fuck is your problem? Are you looking for a fight?

So one time, Kalpas decides to act upon it. His booming footsteps echoed all throughout the lobby signifying his entrance. His mask didn't manage to make you feel better as his whole tall, and jacked figure loom over yours— back against the wall both figuratively and literally.

His temper was like a ripple in a wave, one swift motion and everything follows through his rage. But you.. you weren't scared at all. In fact, you were terrified. You were panicking! What now? What has he learned? Did he manage to read your mind? Does he know you want him to wrap those big, cold, veiny hands of his on your neck? From the way you're averting your eyes mashed with the way you stumble on your words, Kalpas knew something was wrong. Unaware of your.. well, unorthodox thoughts— he starts to feel excitement himself. After all, a person showing absolutely no signs of a mean bone in their body, looking so small under his eyes, jittering with crossed arms, Kalpas thinks he definitely hit something in your nerves.

Kalpas wants to see you seethe with rage. He needs to get a rise out of you. You're fucking boring! He can't stand being in the same room with someone all smiles and flowers! Sure, he's seen you bathed in blood and dust— but surely you could be more grand than that? With each tick the clock makes, he grows impatient.

"You gonna say something or what?" His voice sultry and low. More often than not, he wonders what even led you here to this treacherous path. Especially where your ideals lie on hopeful visions of image-less salvation— where even the world itself spoke openly of a war neverending. A war where he would become the smoke, the dust, and the blood soaked dirt of the very plane you stand; someone as soft and cute as you.

You, however, couldn't bring yourself to even say a thing. Not one word out of your mouth. You're afraid that if you even say one thing, something else would come out. Kalpas is staring down at you hard. From the way he's eyeing you, you would've thought he's already eating bits and pieces of your soul. Then again, you would've loved to do the same— just not in a way he thinks. Really, looking up at him top to bottom, you're dying to taste him in your mouth this instant. That bitter, wet after taste on your tongue kept plaguing your phantasmic senses; so much so that you unconsciously lick your lips.

Gross.. you're a pervert. And as this whole ordeal prolongs, you're starting to come to terms with it, internally chuckling at the irony of it all. If only you were bold enough like Elysia, even charming enough like Eden— or perhaps as mesmerizing as a Serpent like Mobius, then maybe, just maybe you would bat your eyelashes at him flirtatiously and shoot your shot?

But you're not crazy. Maybe down horrendously bad, but not insane.

But when he started putting those hands of his on your body, that's when you started to get increasingly nervous. Kalpas, without restraint, grabs your collar and pulls your frame closer to his. His forearm rests behind you leaving you nowhere to look but him. Your throat lets out a suppressed yelp. Suddenly, the air was hotter and the colors were a little more indistinguishable. Heat started creeping up on your face, spine tingling with every breath he heaved behind his mask. Oh.. that tickles.. and suddenly, the floor was quite interesting. But that didn't work. You can't see the floor now that his chest is obscuring your vision.

Kalpas could very much sense that something is wrong. First of all, you're not giving the reaction he wants from you. Where's the narrowed eye glare? Or even a seat from your hands now that his fist is curled on your collar? Come to think of it, you're being awfully submissive to his taunts. Even if he came here with a second agenda, isn't hostility a normal reaction? For God's sake. You're insufferable. Your cheeks puffed out in a pout, averting his figure like a goddamn plague— he finds surprise in your hands trailing their way towards his arm, holding onto it gently.

"Kalpas. I don't like telling people what to do."

"So your mouths finally serving you? Good."

You gulp a little, looking up at him while he loosens his hold on your collar. Part of you yearned him to caress your cheek, but he was no sweet man. He's a funny guy. You like his humour. But you can't help but think— what is he here for? Before letting you even have a heave of peace, Kalpas suddenly turns you over, and toss you on his shoulders. His big, warm hands grabbed your waist, and you let out a small noise.

Noise. It was a noise. You swear it was a noise, not a moan or anything.

Kalpas suddenly tenses up, stopping in his tracks with you still in his arms. His grip on you almost loosens, as you limp weakly into his arms. Oh wow. Your face is basically a CPU heating up. You were shaking and quivering from the humiliation that you wished you could just be thrown across the room head first now.

"Don't—... Don't say anything." You could tell he was a little surprised, but he carries on like nothing happened. You can't even focus on your surroundings right now because all you could think was fifteen thousand thoughts about how weird you are and he's never ever going to approach nor talk to you again. In my opinion, that's a little far fetched. He's a weird guy as well! It's not just you who should be at fault ~

Kalpas grumbles under his breath. You didn't quite catch it, but you couldn't care less. Not when his scent was mere centimeters away from your nose.. this is something you will not be forgetting that's for sure.

Oh, you kinda want to bite him. Before you entertain the thought, Kalpas once again grabs you by the waist and tosses you across the couch of the lounge. For a moment, you were stricken with dizziness— your body bouncing a little upon the cushions.

Confused, maybe a little shocked (and definitely turned on) you space out a moment, only being brought back to reality when Kalpas slams the door closed.

He was gone.

What just happened?

"Oh, hi~ you're here!" You quickly turn towards the source of that sweet, cooing voice. Elysia stood just a few meters away from you, a sly smile on his face. "Enjoyed the ride I organized for you?"

"Elysia!"

"Hee-hee, a ride.."

this was a silly thirst i did lmao, it was sitting in my drafts for a while, so here ~

[ghoulsbounty]

Hii! What's your headcanons about relationship with Otis Driftwood? Nothing too violent towards reader after they became a s/o, if you could, without going into ooc <3

Otis Driftwood In a Relationship

Warnings: smut (18+), control, possessiveness, gaslighting, mentions of sex work (not reader), canon-typical violence, aggression, narcissism, it's otis - he is a warning!

Words: 1.1K

A/N: Thank you for my first Otis request! I've been in love with this man for going on twenty years so I have lots of headcanons for him. I feel like this is realistically (to me) how he would have a relationship with someone who wasn't either a victim or murderer while still keeping him in character (I hope!) Also yes I had to get the quote in the last bullet, I was watching the film as I wrote this. I hope you enjoy it. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

→ It's widely known that Otis harbours some unconventional interests. In the small town of Ruggsville, the Firefly family's prominence, especially their ties to local celebrity Captain Spaulding, is undeniable. In this backwater community, everyone has their own shades of darkness when it comes to entertainment or survival, so you don't bat an eyelash at the rumours circulating about the family.

 → Otis charms you with his quick wit and sharp tongue, an aura of danger enveloping him and lingering in his presence. He frequents the local watering hole where you work, spending quiet summer evenings regaling you with stories of travelling the country with his younger sister, moving from one stolen car to the next. When you ask why he returned to the dead-end town, he nonchalantly declares that family is the most important thing to him. And then, with a mischievous grin, he casually mentions his involvement in a Satanic cult. 

→ Otis thinks that perhaps what draws him to you is your refusal to flinch at his unsavoury stories or the sly smirk you offer when he alludes to the sweet taste of your skin. He enjoys the recoil from others, welcomes it even because it's what he's known since he was a child and means he's got the upper hand. You give him pause, a dangerous thing indeed. In you, he sees a kindred spirit equally disillusioned with societal norms, and he wonders how long it will take to break you. 

→ With every aspect seemingly covered, there's no obvious place for you in his life. Yet, thoughts of you intrude on his mind during the day, distracting him from his tasks. The persistent idea that you might offer something different to his routine gradually consumes him, eroding all other thoughts until only you remain. 

→ His carnal needs are met by the bottom feeders he keeps around for a quick release. Sometimes, when their pleading becomes bothersome and he wants the peace and quiet, he will end it fast because it's easier when they're cold. He pulls them into his cot and curls into them until they have festered and rotten to the point that Tiny has to dispose of them. If it's a willing body he seeks, a trip to the whorehouse suffices. 

→ It's a few months before you meet the family. Otis doesn't need to tell you the importance of the moment, you can sense it in his tense demeanour, permeating the lounge as Mama parades you around the room like a prize pig at the county fair. You sense his eyes upon you, observing your reactions to each member, particularly noting your response to Tiny's imposing presence and your handling of Grandpa's vulgarity. In his mind, he rationalizes that you'll need a strong stomach if you are going to be with him. 

→ You are under no illusion that you're not the only person from whom Otis seeks comfort. He isn't shy about the fact that he needs more than what you can give him, says as much when he insists on you leaving him be for a few days to exorcise his darker urges. He doesn't approach the subject of you joining him sometimes until he is certain that you won't spring like a scared rabbit. When he finally does ask, you accept with a morbid curiosity.

→ Otis certainly has his private indulgences, but he takes great pleasure in involving you in some of his less solitary activities. Whatever the pursuit may be, it often concludes with him inside of you, his teeth leaving raw marks on your skin as he draws out multiple orgasms from your pliable body.

→ In these moments, he alternates between showering you with praise and delivering sharp, cutting remarks, his rough fingers encircling your throat as he thrusts into you with relentless force, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy until you're cock drunk and screaming his name. He relishes in the intensity of the experience, breaking you down only to rebuild you according to his desires, sculpting you into his perfect masterpiece.

→ Over time, Otis's possessiveness and control puts an end to your employment, your independence dwindling in the face of your need to be with him and his need for your servitude. His affection is conditional upon your compliance and submission, and when you prove yourself to him is when you get your reward of a tender kiss to your nose, or being pulled into his lap for a warm embrace. His love is a privilege to be earned, and he is fast to take it away if he deems you unworthy of it.

→ Otis perceives you as an extension of himself, expecting you to conform to his desires and interests. He finds pleasure in your engagement with his world, he likes when you lounge on his stained mattress in nothing but his shirt listening to his musings on the complexities of human nature. He encourages you to challenge his viewpoints, igniting debates that fuel his passion.

→ However, you soon discover that venturing into this territory can be perilous. It often results in Otis's eyes blazing with fury, his hands trembling with conviction as he towers over you, unleashing a torrent of berating and belittling words until you find yourself on your knees before him. It's a volatile dance of intellectual stimulation intertwined with the raw intensity of his dominance.

→ It falls to you to navigate these moments, gently guide him back to a sense of equilibrium with a steady stream of apologies and affirmations, trail open mouthed kisses down his body until you feel him relax under your touch. Sometimes his tumultuous thoughts wouldn't waver and he'd either take his frustrations out on your cunt or push you away until you are begging at his door. For Otis, isolation becomes a test of your loyalty—will you stay, or run? 

→ And time and again, you choose to stay, receiving no verbal apology afterward because that is Otis' way. However, when he deems fit, he leaves small tokens on the bedside table for you to find in the morning—a small sculpture, a painting—his non-verbal way of acknowledging his feelings about his actions. You know better than to draw attention to these gestures. Instead, you offer a kiss to his lips as a silent acknowledgment of his effort to make amends. His response is typically playful yet affectionate, a light smack on your behind accompanied by an eye roll, never one to dwell on sentimentality.

→ Overall, Otis is content with you, would dare say happy. You fit into his life with ease, don't give him much grief when you're not busy bitching a song about nothing. However, the devil makes work for idle hands, and there's still work to be done in fully acclimating you to his ways. He does love watching you break.

[zagreuses-toast]

I come from a place of sheer curiousity and I just wanna ask genuinely- you say that you're a fan of 13s/ the chibnall era. Why? Doctor who is my favourite show and I've connected with every incarnation deeply and immediately, but have never been able to "click" with 13, despite my best efforts. What is it that you like about her? What is it that you like about chibnalls writing? I want to know and I want to like her/it too, but as of right now, I just... don't. Obviously you're not obligated to, but can you explain why?

Ok so this ended up being a Long Post, so I'm putting my response under the read more. Also I'm assuming you've actually watched the Chibnall era up to The Power of The Doctor, if you haven't then heads up for spoilers and stuff that might not make much sense without context.

Oh and I'm gonna @ @rearranging-deck-chairs and @ssaalexblake because I see their DW opinions all the time and they're really good and they can probably give more nuanced answers on some things. (Idk how well I did on explaining why I liked some of them, and it really is up to personal preference on some things)

Thirteen herself:

There are a lot of reasons I like Chibnalls era, but one of the biggest ones out the gate is definitely Jodie and her acting in the role of the Doctor. I think the way she balances bouncy gregariousness with the colder more angry and mean aspects of the Doctor is great. She does this thing where she can just make her eyes go dead and then smile like it's a threat, like she's gonna bite, especially when going up against villains. It's great. And Jodie herself is a delightful person.

Beyond just physical acting choices, I find the thirteenth Doctors struggle between her anger and secrecy, vs her desire to connect and her joy at life very very compelling. She keeps this distance that's really interesting I think, where she's genuinely attached to and trying to be a friend to the Fam, but still trying to keep her whole past out of the deal, which doesn't work that well, as we see in s12 and Flux. She's surrounded by death and haunted by the knowledge of how little time she has with her friends, (Grace, and she just came back from bill) but she still wants and needs that connection, and she learns to live in the present a bit. I made a whole post about her final regeneration speech here. I love her arc a lot even if it hurts. Also she's such a horrible hypocrite about so many things, which also makes her a fun character to rotate in my head and study like a bug. I do see it as being on purpose, some people seem to think it's just bad writing that she contradicts herself but imo that's a big part of her character.

Chibnalls writing:

I personally like the timeless child plot because :

There are a lot of stories and ideas in the Chibnall era I like, and a lot more I find very compelling. Whatever your opinions on the writing (and I definitely have had a lot of critique for some bits), there were a lot of ideas introduced that were fun and interesting. One of the weaker points of the era IMO is having so much fun stuff set up, but only shallowly or quickly exploring it, and then adding more stuff on top.

A lot of things didn't get the exploration/screen time I thought they deserved (especially characterization and interaction/dialogue wise). But that just gives my brain more to chew on at the end of the day, and I do love what was done during the seasons itself, not just all the potential stuff.

1) I can connect with it, I know Chibnall was coming at it from a place of being an adoptee, but as a native person the story of a kid taken and raised into an imperial/colonial society, who had their history stolen and their body exploited to further that societies ends, hits very close to home.

And 2) I have a "everything is true at once" approach to canon and I think the more origin stories we make for the Doctor the funnier it is.

This era had a lot of repeating themes, ideas that showed up and we're explored in a lot of different circumstances, often with a rule of 3 aspect to it. One is themes of Empire and Exploitation. Particularly through the stenza in s11 (empire using up planets, introduced to us basically doing foxhunts for clout, but with People instead of foxes), the dalek specials, the Cybermen in s12, and Division/the timelords in flux (as well as the sontarans &co).

Within that there's the repeating motif of how by exploiting people or their beliefs for power the imperial power/bad guys sew the seeds of their destruction. From Tzim Sha using the Ux and them turning against him, to the Division being destroyed by the Ravagers, who they tried to use to get rid of the Doctor/the old universe (and the doctor and even the master going rogue in the first place). Hell even Kerblam! (I know I know) Has a version, where the AI system being used to do terrible things is the one to call the doctor for help!

Another standout are themes of breaking cycles, Ryan is estranged from his dad and was distancing himself from Graham, but they both put in the work and grow extremely close over their two seasons. He also chooses to leave the TARDIS when he realizes he's absent from his friend's lives and wants to be present. And the Doctor gets to break the cycle of exploitation that Tecteun started, when she meets a vulnerable being with mysterious power (the energy being from TPOTD) she helps it free itself, on a way she wasn't helped.

Individual character stuff:

Going again into more individual character stuff I love, I've gotta give it to Sacha Dhawan for being a fucking superb Master. His acting is bonkers amazing and he does a great job portraying the sorta huge personal crisis the master is going through, and externalizing via evil schemes. At the end of Twelves run we saw Missy try to be like the doctor, to get her friend back (and even succeed a bit) but end up dying for it. Now we come back to a master who died trying to be like the person they see as their only equal, and has discovered (wrongly) that they were never equal to begin with, that the doctor is so much more than them. So he tries to make her like him instead, and If she won't become like him and kill them both along with the rest of gallifrey, then he will become her properly this time (by body snatching), ruin her legacy, and die with her eventually (overtaking her in the same way his whole existance has now been caused/overtaken by the doctor in his eyes, because of her being the source of regeneration)

Also can we talk about the Yaz?? I've been dying to talk about Yaz!!! I love her a lot and I find her fascinating, shes probably my favorite companion based on just sheer amount of time spent Thinking about her. Her doctorification/character arc is so good

Yaz is into the travelling and saving the day lifestyle the Doctor gives her for the responsibility of it all, for feeling useful and capable and good. Her early characterization Monet's include her complaining about not having more interesting jobs as a cop because she wants responsibility, she wanted to be important and helpful (that's the entire reason she became a cop, to help people like she was helped when she was in a dark place, and she finds a better way of doing that with the Doctor). And she GETS THERE, narratively and on a character level, she spends three years on earth with her own companions! She co-pilots the TARDIS and can fly her herself! She saves the day when the master steals the doctors body! And most of all SHES EXTREMELY SAD AT THE END BECAUSE THE PERSON SHE LOVES DIED BEFORE HER!! JUST LIKE THE DOCTOR !! (ugly crying) (I could write a whole other post about thasmin, good and bad, but a lot of people have put it better than me)

Also, I'm a big TARDIS girlie, she has somehow ended up being one of my favorite characters in doctor who, and the chinball era does so much fun stuff with the TARDIS!! Different writers take different approaches to the TARDIS, and how alive vs inanimate, or how active vs passive she is. I think the Chinball era had something special in terms of the way the TARDIS was depicted, and I loved it a lot. We never really get to see past the control room but it's a gorgeous control room! And throughout the era the TARDIS just feels so alive, it's always humming and beeping and chirping, I especially love the moments when the lights change color to match the doctors mood (mostly to blue, for sadness, sometimes red to yell at that dalek that one time). And speaking of the doctor, starting with ghost monument thirteen has a bunch of sweet moments of banter or just ~emotions~ with the TARDIS. I genuinely teared up a bit when she entrusted the timeless child memories to the TARDIS,and before her regeneration speech when she asked the TARDIS to look after her. Because who can she trust with her past AND her future except her oldest truest friend.

I could add a lot more of specific things from the era I love (solitract my beloved) but I think this is getting long enough as is lol.

[pagodazz]

do you have any habit and Evan analysis to drop cause I never see people talk about them and their bond.. in my eyes habit and Evan are like a wolf and a rabbit in the way that habit has so much power, but also I feel like Evan could almost tame him.. I don’t know how to explain it and I think tumble has a limit for asks. Hope you understand what I mean.

DUDE IM SO FUCKING GLAD YOU ASKED. I have theories. I have MANY theories and thoughts about these two it makes me absolutely insane. Just like pretty much anyone else in this fandom, Evan and habit are the ones who introduced me into this series, and they were just so intriguing to me that I had to know more. Ofc my interests got stolen by a certain film student but. Evan and habit are JUST AS SPECIAL TO ME.

(The cover isn't working I'm so sorry idk what's going on 😭😭)

Now I wanna start off with what you said about Habit being a wolf and Evan being a rabbit, and I think you're VERY correct, yet I do have one thing I would like to add to this however I think it would take a VERRYY long time for Evan to "tame" habit, Habit is not something that WANTS to be tamed, he doesn't really want to be treated with gentleness. And Evan doesn't exactly want to treat habit with any gentleness or tame him at all.

The one thing about Evan is that he's the perfect toy for habit, he's the perfect one for him, his perfect fit, their souls or their lives are intertwined even if they both don't want to be.

I see their relationship more like a dog and it's favorite chew toy, the dog will bite and tug and pull, but It'll never rip it apart, and if it does, the dog will feel regret and it'll will go get it stitched back up just to go back to playing.

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Habit will however take care of this vessel, to those who think he treats it like shit???? you clearly don't understand habit at all. He needs this vessel, he wants it pristine, perfect, powerful. He will clean this body, he'll feed the body, he'll keep it in the best shape he can, all while he rots it from the inside, because no matter what, habit is a parasite taking absolutely everything from Evan.

I feel like Evan himself is alot more likely to ignore his own needs thinking it'll have some kind of damaging affect on habit, but habit will get into his head, he'll whisper in his ear about Evan needs to take care of himself, Evan needs to be strong for everyone and everything. He can't be weak, he'll be of no use to ANYONE if he's weak. Habit will tell him he'd be of no use to Vinnie if he isn't taking care of himself, and that will always get Evan going enough to do SOMETHING.

Although I think food is something that might be ruined for Evan, especially meat. He can't bite into it without being brought to tears at the idea of his teeth sinking down into human flesh again and he'll have to spit it out and scrub the taste and the blood out of his mouth. So when habit is in control, that's when he has to do the eating, habit has to be the one to nurture this body like it's his own.

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

Evan is practically convinced him and habit are one, he thinks that habit is just a manifestation of his deep inner impulses the ones he'd never dream of doing but that replay in his mind over and over again. And he thinks Habit is there to force him to act on these impulses as punishment for the want he experience.

Habit however knows him and Evan aren't one and he makes sure that people know that. he could give less of a shit about the way Evan actually FEELS he just wants his body in good condition. When you're being possessed by habit, you're no longer yourself, there's NOTHING of your personality left, you are PURELY Habit. He'll change your clothes, he'll change your hair, he'll do whatever HE wants because your body is HIS. And that's exactly how it is with Evan. He owns him, Evan is BUILT for him. it's not the other way around.

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

Habit will in fact feed Evan fake memories and trap him in horrific nightmares on repeat, leaving his mind weak and easy to keep in control. The more disoriented Evan is, the easier it is to take over and use his body the way he wants to.

That being said though, Habit isn't all THAT cruel to Evan, atleast earlier on the series. Earlier on he's trying to "help" him in ways. He's protective, he'll scratch at Evans brain screaming to be let out the MOMENT Evan is in danger, only to purr with delight when Evan gives in.

I take them switching in their head as like habit taking the lead in a dance, Evan is still participating, but it's not really all up to him, he's just following habits lead, taking the advice he's given. Because that's one thing Evan is REALLY good at. He's the BEST at doing what he's told. and for something like habit??? that's just how he likes it.

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

I hope you enjoy these anon. I don't really view their relationship as very soft in many ways, they're nothing like Michael and Patrick, if anything habit would be offended at the assumption that he's ANYTHING like Patrick Habit is NOTHING close to human, he still doesn't feel the way Patrick does which I think makes it impossible to have true control over Evans body, because he refuses to WORK with him. Habit wants to be in full power and not share, but in order to achieve full power bro needs to share HELP.

[warabidakihime]

VIGILANTE SHIT

Characters: Dabi x Y/N

Plot Summary: The past will never disappear, and you will reap what you sow whether you like it or not.

Content Warning: Implied violence, smut, profanities, and psychological stuff that can be triggering for some of you. Minors DNI.

Fic Playlist: vengeance, vigilante shit, animal farm, anti-hero, akuma no ko.

•·················•·················•

Shiny, sparkling stars and other celestial bodies that were invisible to the naked eye covered the dark sky, and normally you would be overjoyed while marveling at the breathtaking view, but instead you're catching your breath because you were just sobbing in your room a few moments ago until your boyfriend picked you up, and now you're riding shotgun as Dabi blazes through the highway, driving you as far away from that godforsaken household as he can using the car that he had just stolen from a random person.

You were still hiccupping in your seat, and each time Dabi heard you choke out a cry, his grip on the steering wheel got tighter and tighter. It took everything in him not to swerve around and drive back to your family, burning them to crisp.

He's not one to let his emotions get the best of him, but with the amount of time he's spent with you and how much your bond has grown in the last year, he has learned to accept the fact that he's a lot more sensitive than he thought. 

It's Christmas Eve, and much to your dismay, your entire family has gathered for a reunion. Honestly, you didn't mind that much and considered this a good opportunity to patch things up with your family, especially your parents and older brother.

A part of you no longer believes reconciliation is possible, but you still want to try, at least for one last time. Dabi already told you it's pointless and that it's impossible for them to change. That it would literally take a miracle for them to realize their fuckups and apologize for repeatedly hurting you.

Usually, someone would get so hurt at hearing such discouraging words, but you know there's truth to what he's saying; you're just too stubborn to admit it and too delusional to accept the fact that a broken glass can no longer be fixed to the way it once was.

Dabi looked over to you, and for a moment, he saw a young version of himself in you. An abrupt chuckle slipped through his lips, and since it was so quiet in the car, you heard him, so you turned to him. When he saw your tear-stained cheeks, your red nose, and your puffy chapped lips, his eyes immediately softened.

"What's so funny?"

His smirk returned, and he turned his attention back to the road. His grip on the steering wheel finally loosened.

"Nothing. I just find it funny that somehow two individuals with similar upbringings crossed paths and ended up together. I think it's what you sappy, lovesick girls call fate."

You, like Dabi, come from a prominent family of heroes and public officers. Your parents work for the government, but your siblings are heroes with impressive resumes. You don't stray too far from the tree since you have a gleaming and outstanding track record of your own.

As shiny and admirable as they may seem in the public eye, they are far from being admirable behind closed doors. Your father, who is a member of the government cabinet, is the sleaziest man you've ever known. 

He's a misogynistic piece of shit who craves nothing but power and wealth. Meanwhile, your mother is the secretary of the Department of Health. She's mostly known for being a "philanthropist," but in reality she's a conniving bitch who uses her crocodile tears to get what she wants. 

Like your father, she also craves power, and so in the upcoming elections, they both plan to run for the highest position.

As for your siblings, one of your brothers inherited your parents' wicked genes, while the other two were too indoctrinated to go up against them, which leaves you as the family's lone wolf.

And as your parents' kid, it is your "responsibility" to live up to their name, which is why you have been under great pressure since you were a child. Your father, in particular, expected you to be the greatest and has stated that he will not take second place, which has led you to your present predicament.

Your parents didn't care if you graduated with honors and have a stellar hero record from your work studies because you weren't the first. Honestly, you’re at your breaking point.

"I don't have time for your teasing, Dabi." You huffed,

"Well, I'm still going to annoy the hell out of you anyway." He snickered

"I should've listened to you." You looked up at the sky with eyes oozing with resentment and despair, as if each star would burst the longer you stared at it, and honestly, who can blame you?

"Damn right, but you're one naughty girl, so here you are, brokenhearted once again."

You glared at him, "Do you really have to rub it in? Aren't you supposed to comfort your girlfriend?"

"Villains don't have hearts, remember? Your narcissistic mother told you that, right?"

"You're kind of proving her point right now though," you pouted, to which your boyfriend mimicked your pout.

He’s such a jerk, but he’s your jerk.

"I don't care what she thinks of me, but I can dispel her claim in one sentence."

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend; now curious as to what he's going to say to counter what your mother said about villains.

"You feel safer with me, a villain, than with your entire family, with whom you supposedly should feel the safest and most secure."

When he puts it that way…

"Our first meeting wasn't exactly safe, though. You almost killed me," you deadpanned, recalling your first meeting with Dabi.

*

You were on work study, patrolling the streets of Kyoto, when you came upon him in a dark alleyway. You hadn't intended to engage him, but he was quick to notice you, and one thing led to another, and you found yourself cornered by him.

"Oho, if it isn't a UA mouse playing superhero," he said in a condescending tone, "didn't your teacher teach you not to turn your back on your enemy? Now look at you. The big bad villain caught you."

Those were his first words to you. 

Normally, you'd have something clever to counter his mockery, but everything happened so fast that your head went mushy. It doesn't help that his blue eyes have effectively charmed you. You can't help but stare in awe at him. 

And in all honesty, you didn't know what to do at that time, as you're far too weak compared to him. Not to imply you're incompetent; in fact, you're one of the top three in your school, and you're likely to hold your spot until graduation, once UA honors their new crop of top heroes-to-be. You assume that Hado, your underclassman, will be included given her practically boundless potential.

The villain in front of you  is simply too strong and dangerous for you to face alone.

Dabi cocked his head sideways and continued to peer at you, also captivated by how attractive you are for some reason. He noted in his mind that your height complimented his, and the length of your hair is to his liking too.

"Where's your sidekick? Patrolling these dangerous alleyways by yourself is very brave—almost audacious of you, don't you think?"

"You're not deserving of any responses from me; if you're going to kill me, just get on with it," you scowled at him.

"Be careful what you wish for; unlike you heroes, we don't halt time and get the job done quickly," he said, clutching your neck.

You instinctively grasped his hand in an attempt to loosen his grip on you, but your strength was outmatched by his. Your heart started to beat faster as fear continued to seep through your skin, even more so when you felt heat burn your skin. 

It's most likely that he has a flame-wielding quirk.

"P-Please—"

"Hm? What's that, Hero-chan?" Dabi said, raising an eyebrow.

"Please let me go," you choked out as you squirmed under his grip.

"What if I don't want to? What will you do about it?"

I don't have time for this...

You groaned internally, but you should have known better than to allow your inner monologue to run wild in your head since you know it will show on your face.

Dabi grinned as he finally let go of you and grabbed you by the chin instead. His thumb caressing your bottom lip which sent electricity down your spine and made your heart skip a beat. 

Of course, the villain took notice of this.

"Now, don't be so impatient; I'm just trying to get to know you, though I do enjoy the way you look at me."

"Well, I don't," you snarled angrily at him, shaking your head in the hopes of breaking free from his clutches, and this time, Dabi let you go and merely chuckled darkly in response to your sassy comeback. 

He still has one arm over you, though, and to be honest, the anxiety you're feeling is more than enough to keep you there.

"Say... you single?"

You glared at him coldly as you contemplated whether to entertain his question or finally take action to escape from the predicament you were in.

You could escape by manipulating his blood, immobilizing him, and then freezing his limbs to the ground for good measure. Your quirk, liquid and air manipulation, is a hybrid of your parents’ respective quirks. You inherited liquid manipulation from your mother and air manipulation from your father. 

The combination of the two has made you undeniably strong and highly flexible. Liquid manipulation allows you to control any liquid. From large pools of liquid to various sorts of chemicals to even human blood, which is extremely useful in battle, air manipulation is pretty much self-explanatory; while it has the ability to replenish life, it also has the ability to kill. You can suffocate someone by manipulating the air in their body and killing them.

You have a strong command over your quirk, thanks to your UA mentors, and you can wield it at will. Before, you could only move small amounts of water, but now they have become fatal to anyone that will receive your wrath. 

"...yes."

Dabi usually has great control over his emotions. But when he found out you're single, for some reason he couldn't help but grin and feel good. In his mind, it's his lucky day today because he found a shiny, new toy to play with. 

And maybe, just maybe, a super small part of him is genuinely interested in you. He may be a ruthless villain, but at the end of the day, he's also human, and people can't help who they potentially fall for.

"So what type of guys do you like?"

By now you had a deadpan expression on your face as you stared at the man in front of you.

Is he serious right now?

"Certainly not you."

Dabi merely shrugged and continued to taunt you, "You don't know that. I know a trick or two to change your mind," he said, winking, and you hated yourself for giving him the reaction he wanted from you.

Your cheeks instantly turned scarlet, and your eyes were as big as saucers; you also appeared to be itching to get back at him, but no words came out of your mouth, leaving you to bite your bottom lip so hard that blood slowly began to seep from the ripped-up flesh.

You averted your gaze from him as he laughed.

"Oh, how cute. You have a beauty mark here." You instantly freeze when he brushes his calloused fingers along the juncture of your neck, which happens to be one of your sweet spots.

Before you could stop yourself, a soft whimper escaped your lips. 

Dabi smirked as he lingered his finger over your smooth skin.

As time goes by, the number of goosebumps on your skin would increase and at this point, you're worried about your legs giving up on you but Dabi made damn sure you are caged snuggly against the wall. 

He kept dragging his finger across your flesh, first tracing your collarbone then hanging his fingertips dangerously close to your cleavage.

"S-Stop."

Dabi came to a halt almost immediately as if he was in a trance that he flinched ever so slightly.

In that very moment, both infatuation and shame swept over him, erasing the arrogant expression on his face.

His eyes trailed from your chest up to your eyes as foreign feelings or emotions he'd buried long ago started to resurface, and they swirled around in his turquoise eyes, and your cerulean eyes took notice of this.

Dabi grabbed your chin, his thumb stroking your bottom lip as he slowly came to his senses. The cheeky smirk he had a few minutes before reappeared on his lips, he leaned down, and you reflexively closed your eyes, maybe bracing yourself for the worst.

Either you'll die right there and then, or he'll graciously let you go. And although you are aware that the latter is unlikely, you continue to pray for a miracle.

However, instead of being enveloped in flames, you felt his hot breath fan your ear, causing your insides to churn. And it wasn't until you completely opened your eyes that you noticed he had taken a step closer to you, his body practically pressing against yours.

"Getting myself a cute lamb wasn't on my to-do list, but here we are." He murmured in your ear, and you swore it was the sexiest voice you'd ever heard.

Not that you'd ever say it out loud.

"These days, I go by the name Dabi, so feel free to address me as such."

He drew away after his so-called introduction, and finally decided to let you go and fled the scene.

Ever since your first encounter, you avoided patrolling in that same area as you were terrified of crossing paths with him again. You made excuses after excuses to your agency and your school, eventually heeded your request, but even after changing your assigned route, Dabi managed to find you again, but your second meeting was rather  (for a lack of a better word) more enchanting compared to the first time you two met in that dark alleyway.

You were in the midst of preventing another villain from carrying out their atrocity when, to your surprise, Dabi assisted you in apprehending the cretin. You were tackling him on the road to keep him from fleeing as you waited for backup when he emerged and strangled the villain until he passed out. 

You were taken aback by his audacious and out-of-character gesture.

"Why?" You blurted out while looking at him, disbelief written all over your face. 

Dabi flashes you a boyish smile as he approaches you. "You two were having so much fun wrestling each other that I couldn't contain my jealousy, so I did something about it. You're welcome, by the way."

True to your nature, disgust was immediately painted on your face, but Dabi simply shrugged and walked closer to you, but unlike the last time, his approach was a bit cautious to ensure his safety and not scare you away because you're in an open area this time.

It will be easier for you to flee.

"Good to see you again, Hero-chan."

"Stop calling me that," you hissed, clearly irritated by the nickname he gave you.

"Once you give me your name, I will."

"Over my dead body."

"Well, aren't you a feisty one?" He said, chuckling, "Then again, they say short people have a short fuse to match, eh?"

That caught you off guard and rendered you speechless, much to the villain's delight.

It's only your second meeting, but he's already having a blast with you.

You are definitely the type of person that others want to tease all the time, he thought to himself as he continued to look at you. 

A sly smile made its way to his face when he caught a glimpse of a very familiar beauty mark he had found on your neck.

"What are you doing here?" you asked.

Dabi grinned before answering your question, "I spotted a damsel in distress, so I came to her rescue." 

"If you're referring to me, I am far from a damsel in distress; I can bear my own weight," you grumbled.

"Regardless, I saved your ass; where is my thank you?"

"Now look who's playing hero; I didn't need your help," you scoffed.

"Interesting, because the image of a true hero that I have in mind is someone who leaps into action without hesitation, someone who is altruistic to a fault."

"Well, since you're hanging the fact that you helped me over my head, you don't fit the qualifications; do you want me to award you a medal? An applause?"

Dabi smirked at you, but it lacked the usual intimidation that he usually exudes. Instead of looking like the menacing villain that he is, he looked like one of those mischievous boys you meet in school. He then pretended to cough and turned around for a bit to cover the redness on his cheeks.

Dabi feels ecstatic that you're responding to him in full sentences now, but there's also a part of him that is annoyed because of how strongly he reacted to you. 

Honestly, with just a few more jabs from you, he might get too excited.

"What do you want from me?" You said it to him loud and clear, which made him snap out of his daze.

"What do you mean?"

You grumbled, visibly sick of his mind games, "You certainly didn't find me by chance, so tell me what you want."

"Hmm... a lot, actually, but for now, I'll ask for three things so I don't overwhelm you."

You couldn't help but chuckle  at what he said, and Dabi, of course, took note of your melodious laughter; seeing you give (somewhat) positive responses increased his confidence significantly.

He sure does have a way with words. Makes him all the more dangerous.

You thought to yourself

 "And what are they?"

"First and foremost," Dabi grinned, "I'd like to know your name."

You kind of saw it coming, but you were still slightly flabbergasted when he asked for your name. 

You shouldn't tell him your name because he might use it against you, but if you don't, he might bother you even more.

After a short moment of contemplation, you sighed and scowled at him as you gave him your name, "F/N. I'm not telling you my last name."

Dabi shrugged. "That's fine with me; now, for the second thing, give me your phone number."

"What the hell? Do you actually think I'd give a villain my contact information?"

"Yes."

This guy—I want to punch him so bad!

You should not give him any further personal information.

You shouldn't, but for some reason, his aura seemed tamer—and, dare you say, safer—than the first time you two met. You have a very high regard for your intuition because it's rarely wrong, and right now, your gut is telling you that you could trust Dabi.

I mean, if he does something fishy, I can always change my phone number.

To be absolutely honest, you're also interested in where this will take you.

The big, bad villain has successfully piqued your interest, apparently.

"...Do you have your phone ready? I'll recite my number once, and that'll be it; I don't care if you catch all of it or not."

Without a word, Dabi showed you his phone, indicating he was ready, and so you quickly gave him your contact details.

"What's the last thing you want? Make it quick; I need to surrender this villain to the authorities before he regains his consciousness."

"I can dispose of him for you if you want," Dabi suggested and your reaction almost made him double over laughing because you looked so horrified.

In hindsight, your reaction made it crystal clear to him that you two are polar opposites.

"I guess you can knock him out again when he wakes up."

"Oh, so now you want my help?"

You had a very faint smile when you replied to him, "Just this once."

"Just this once, huh?"

"Yep, just this once."

You turned to face him after a period of silence.

Any annoyance that was radiating from your eyes when you first laid eyes on him this afternoon was long gone, but you are still on alert.

"So, what's the last thing you want from me?"

You frowned internally at what you're doing right now.

You intended to amuse him for a short time to relieve his boredom so that he could finally leave you alone, but all you've done is increased the likelihood of you two crossing paths again.

However, your meeting with Dabi today has convinced you that he is not someone you can just shake off.

Dabi stepped closer to you until he was just a few inches away, and the same anxiousness that you felt when you first met him in the dark alley crept back into your skin. You instinctively took a step back and gradually established a stance in case he ultimately dropped the friendly act and attacked you.

He gradually lifted his hand, making you even more apprehensive.

"The last thing I want from you is for you to be my friend." Dabi said as he offered his hand for a handshake, and the gesture gave you the strongest whiplash known to man.

"What?"

"You heard what I said."

"But...why?"

"Do you need a reason to befriend someone?"

"I don't mean to offend, but if a wanted criminal wants to befriend me, I have every right to be skeptical," you said, your face soulless.

Dabi shook his head in amusement and grinned, "Touche. Well, what if we first became acquainted? Would that suffice?"

You looked at him as if he'd sprouted two more heads, and he just stood there with a fucking smile on his face, waiting for your response.

"A hero and a villain as friends? Is that even possible?" you wondered out loud.

"Why don't we try it out and see?" Dabi shrugged.

You're not going to admit it out loud, but you're intrigued as well.

You're wondering if a hero and a villain can be amicable, let alone friends.

"Fine, but I have several conditions," you told him.

"Shoot."

You let out a sigh.

I can't believe I was persuaded into doing this.

This is considered coercion, right?

"First, this “friendship” will be on trial for three months, with you only permitted to contact me three times each month; second, for three months, don't commit any crimes; if I see or hear you did something, consider our "friendship" over. And third..." You paused and looked away, your cheeks heating up due to sheer shyness.

Dabi raised an eyebrow, which was soon followed by a cheeky smile, "And?"

You sighed for the umpteenth time and looked at him, saying, "Don't call me unannounced. Give me a heads up, so I can p-prepare myself."

"Pinky promise." he said while holding his pinky, ushering you to do the same, which you did.

His pinky finger felt incredibly rough against yours, but it also felt warm.

You gave him a curt nod and said, "I better get going. I need to escort this guy to the police station."

As you were about to retrieve your pinky, Dabi grabbed your entire hand and gave it a firm shake.

"I guess we will be seeing each other more often, huh, y/n?"

Now, why did your name have to roll out so smoothly from his lips? It sounded so natural that it made your heart jump and flutter.

"Don't push your luck," you grumbled as you returned his handshake.

*

And Dabi certainly made your time together worthwhile throughout those three months.

To your surprise, he followed all of your conditions so religiously that he almost seemed like a saint to you, and you found yourself growing fonder of him as you spent more time with him. 

The majority of your meetings consisted of him annoying the hell out of you, but as you spent more time together, the two of you gradually blurred the lines, entirely ignoring your respective positions in society, with you as a full-fledged hero and him as a high-profile villain.

You had every intention of not developing feelings for him; at one point, you even tried to push him away and break whatever connection you two had at the time because it was inappropriate and dangerous for the two of you to have any kind of relationship, but not even a week later, you caved in and welcomed him back into your life.

And Dabi was more than happy to stay.

Meanwhile, Dabi grossly miscalculated his sweet little infatuation he had for you.

He was convinced that he would eventually get tired of you and abandon you, but jokes on him because the more you hung out with him, the deeper and harder he fell for you. 

His once innocent and cute crush grew into something more passionate, and honestly, for someone like him who is completely emotionally shocked at such a young age, his feelings for you worried him.

Even more so when he realized he was being the same person he was before Todoroki Enji  fucked everything up in his life.

When he's with you, he's not Dabi.

He's Todoroki Touya.

You were taken aback when you learned his family background and upbringing. 

Your worlds were not as far apart as you initially assumed. Your parents and Endeavor know each other due to their line of work. Although you get along well with the other Todoroki siblings, you're not a big fan of their father since he reminds you of your own useless father.

*

"Ohhh—"

You moaned loudly and tossed your head back, huge waves of ecstasy washing over you as Dabi fucked you with his fingers in the backseat of the car. Even more so when he kissed the beauty mark you have on your neck. 

The two of you decided to park someplace else and just enjoy each other's company after driving aimlessly around the city, especially after a long, hard day.

One thing led to another, and now you have Dabi taking the role of the big spoon to a whole new level by having you lay your head on his free arm while the other does magic in your cunt; making you sing the songs of the angels in heaven.

Icy blue eyes were glued to you, observing every movement you made and every note you uttered while he made you feel good and helped you forget about every bad thing in the world. It's ironic and, in a way, poetic that a big, bad villain is the one that's been saving you right at this very moment. 

Dabi could easily lower his head down to your breasts and snag your perky nipple between his lips with one of your arms firmly wrapped over his shoulder. His hot tongue grazed the sensitive nub, triggering your first orgasm of the night.

And with your arm wrapped around him, it was easy to take a hold of his hair, and as you yanked at it, your boyfriend let out a seductive groan as he continued to lavish undivided attention on your boobs.

"Dabi—"

Dabi hummed in return, still devouring your boobs and painting circles on your clit with his finger.

 "I need you, Dabi, please—"

Dabi removed himself from your nipple without a word, but not before giving it one more nibble, to which you responded with a sultry moan, much to his satisfaction. 

He then gestured for you to scoot over so he could position himself between your legs. He also offered you the random throw pillow that was lying around in the car to make you feel more comfortable.

Once he was comfortably positioned between your legs, his cock had already been liberated from the constriction of his pants, and he was stroking it with one hand, causing pre-cum to ooze from the tip.

Watching him from your point of view was deadly. Dabi looked so enticing and sexy that you instinctively reached out to your cunt and touched yourself to relieve some of the pent-up frustration you were feeling.

"Fuck, y/n. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Dabi became engrossed in his own fantasy as a result of your little show. 

Thousands of lewd images of you flashed through his mind, and the dirtier they got, the quicker his hand pumped his dick, nearly coming undone right then and there.

Dabi, not wanting to waste any more time, purposefully burned himself awake and finally positioned his cock directly in front of your entrance. And as soon as the tip touched your warm walls, a shudder ran down his spine, and a drawn-out moan escaped his lips as he bottomed up.

"Still so fucking tight for me, I see." Dabi grunted as he began to thrust after letting you get used to him.

As much as you wanted to respond to him, you couldn't find it in you to form any words or at least display any  semblance of attentiveness to him because of how good he was making you feel. 

Dabi then scooped you up and reclined back against the backrest without skipping a beat.

And as if you two have telepathy, you got to work and rode him.

From the outside, the car was visibly shaking, and the windows were covered in fog. It won't take long until someone notices, but at this point you don't care whether you get caught doing the deed in public.

As you rode him, your boyfriend watched you intently while fixing your hair, which he adores oh, so much.

"Look at you." He said as he caressed your sides, leaving goosebumps on your skin, "Such a good girl, taking me in so well and making me feel so good."

A faint and genuine smile formed on your face in the midst of it all.

You looked at Dabi with such tenderness and love in your eyes, and he answered with an equally soft look.

Your story went from the two of you  being natural enemies in the prologue to becoming inseparable and each other's rock in the succeeding chapters. But, like all novels, yours will come to an end. As powerful and passionate as your love for one another, you two are well aware of the fate that awaits you.

At the end of the day, you're a hero, and he's a villain.

You slowed down for a moment and cupped his cheeks,  he winced noticeably when your delicate hands touched his scarred face. His uneasiness was on the rise, but you were quicker to eliminate any doubt and self-loathing in his mind and soul by planting a passionate kiss on his lips.

Instinctively, Dabi closed his eyes and responded to the kiss. He embraced your tiny frame and pulled you closer to him while you started to pick up the pace once again, sending both of you to nirvana.

*

After the two of you finished fucking each other like rabbits, silence descended in the car.

Dabi was lazily fiddling with your hair as you were all nestled up against him. And the longer the stillness lasted, the further and deeper your mind traveled. 

Today has been an extremely long day, and the prospect of going through much more in the coming days has almost made you fear for your life. 

Dabi was right.

When you're around him, you feel safer and more at ease. 

So why not simply abandon everything and be with him forever? 

Your life would be so much better and happier.

As a youngster, you once wished to be a hero like All Might; that's why you still did your best despite everything, but your family has poisoned your views on the whole hero society. 

The hero system, as Stain stated, is a farce.

 "I am done playing hero."

Dabi's hands came to a halt as he heard what you just said.

"What?" he said, looking at you.

You turned to him, and with just one glance at you, no amount of persuasion could sway you.

You've already made up your mind, and while Dabi appreciates that you've chosen him over everyone else and that you're finally standing up for yourself, a little part of him is still a bit apprehensive.

Of course, he believes in you and your capacity to fend for yourself, but this is still a very big step for you. You will be leaving a lot of things behind. 

To him, you are one of the few people who actually deserve to be recognized and celebrated as a hero.

Is this what you really want for yourself?

"This isn't something I decided on a whim; I've been thinking about it for a while, and this is the conclusion I came up with," you explained, then completely turned around to stare right into your boyfriend's eyes.

"Take me with you, Dabi," you told him as you cupped his face, "and rescue me from the real villains."

Dabi turned away from you and glanced out the misty window, evidently pondering.

"I swear I won't hold you back; in fact, my quirk complements yours, so I'd be of great help to you. I can amplify your flames with my air quirk, and I can also cure your injuries with my water quirk; it has healing properties  and can serve as your safety net in battle—"

"You don't have to do all of those things for me to let you tag along with me, Y/N; unlike your family, I don't see you as a tool and won’t treat you as such; I was just trying to process everything; my mind's still foggy as fuck after you literally sucked the life out of me," Dabi snickered.

"As if you hadn't sucked mine," you counter, and despite the matter at hand, the two of you shared a good laugh.

"You requested, and I merely complied," Dabi shrugged. "You're welcome."

"So, are you going to adopt me or what?" you joked.

Dabi searched around the car, and when his face lit up when he found what he was searching for, you raised an eyebrow at him but kept silent.

"Woof for me, then," he said as he grabbed up his belt and put it lazily around your neck.

"Haha, very funny, Dabi," you said as you slapped his hand away.

Your boyfriend sat up straight, reached for his shirt, and handed it to you while he settled for his leather jacket.

He got back in the driver's seat and started the engine after cleaning himself up.

"Let's go back to your place."

"Huh?! Why?" you exclaimed.

"We need to get your clothes and other important things you need, dummy, because if you're going to come along with me, you'll be kissing your freedom goodbye; especially with a well-known background like yours, you'll have little to no freedom to roam around, so we'll salvage what we can until I can get you new ones."

The terror you felt when he mentioned your household has vanished after hearing his reasoning, "Oh. Right... I'm sorry."

"Wanna say good-bye to your folks? I know a fun way to do it," Dabi said as he started driving to your house.

You shifted your gaze to the stars in the vast sky, and while you pondered in silence, your eyes began to glitter with feelings that Dabi was all too familiar with. 

You looked exactly like him when he abandoned his family.

You shifted your gaze to the stars in the vast sky.

When Dabi fetched you earlier tonight, you were staring at the sky with melancholy eyes, but now you’re looking at it with eyes filled with new-found hope, although resentment still lingered and grew stronger to the point that you can feel your blood boil with rage. 

You remained silent in your seat, but Dabi knows exactly what is running through your head right now. He also knows how you feel right now since he felt the same way when he left his family and old life behind. 

The gleam in your eyes was all too familiar to him, and he vowed right then and there that he'd help you get revenge on your wretched family.

"Y/N,"

"Hmm?"

The big bad villain who turned out to be your salvation grabbed your hand, drew it towards him, and then kissed every knuckle, stinging your eyes with tears with each kiss.

"We're going to make them pay."

And that's all it took to solidify your resolve.

 An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

You sealed your pact by intertwining your pinky fingers.

[eashmo]

7 minutes in hell, or is it heaven? Part 6

-Please Pick Up-

Warnings: eventual smut, fluff, and lots of angst. Billy is an extremely soft boyfriend to y/n

Love confession time from both sides!!!!!

In the Y/n pov, there are some quotes from some of my poetry work, so please enjoy and see how i'm such a hopeless romantic.

Also, it is set several weeks later from the last chapter, so there has been major secret friendship development. Felt if I wrote all that. It would have dragged.

~~~~~~~~~~~

*Billy's POV*

The lawn was trashed with empty kegs and red solo cups, toilet paper littered the trees and house, the smell of sweat, alcohol, weed and throw up was a stale scent everywhere I went while loud music seeps through every corner of the rooms.

Drunken students everywhere, some who I had never seen before making out with each other, random teenagers picking fights with each in the backyard and in the living room. I scoff.

I didn't want to be here. I would rather be with Y/n. Parties didn't feel the same after the last party with her, and her not being here it was boring.

Mumbling in disgust, I avoided people as I best I could, especially escaping from girls that try to throw themselves at me. While I was in thought, a junior bumps into me.

"Watch where you are going, you little shit," I angrily say as I grab his collar, lifting him off the ground with ease.

"S-s- sorry man, I didn't see you there." He says with fear in his eyes.

"Whoa now, Billy, give the loser a break and take a swig of this stuff that Heather brought." Tommy says as he come stumbling through the living room.

"Just don't do it again, nerd." I release him, and he fell to the floor.

"S-sorry again." He said as he ran for his life.

"Tommy, I'm gonna head out, I'm tired of this shit show." I say.

"Dude, you're drunk. You can't drive." He states.

"Fuck off I'll be fine I've done it before remember?" That was the last thing I say to him before I slam the front door.

The drive was longer than I thought. Maybe I should have sobered up some. I pulled to the side, noticing a payphone on the side of the road.

I was thinking about calling Tommy to come pick me up, but he was more inxoticated than I was, so I rang the next best person.

*RINGING*

"Hello?" A tired female voice spoke.

"I'm giving you a night call to tell you how I feel."

"Billy, are you drunk? What's wrong are you ok?" Her voice was filled with concern.

I shook my head like she could see it.

" Yes, I'm drunk, and no, I'm not ok, I have to tell you something that you don't want to hear.... I wanna be more than friends."

"Hargrove, where are you? Do you need me to pick you up? She asks.

"I'm at the old warehouse, but please let me get this out." I plead.

A small "ok" was only said.

"I need your hands on my body, I need your eyes only on me, I need your smell to engulf my senses, I need your lips on mine. I need to be with you physically and mentally. You're my breath. you're my lifeline in this miserable world. I swear my fucked up thoughts get calm when you stand by me. I feel your eyes on me all the time. The feeling always goes down my spin like electricity. Please tell me you will be mine. Tell me are more than overthinking stolen glances." I finally breathe.

*silence*

"We both know I'm just scared to really date you, but you have me mesmerized. I want to be yours." Was the last thing she said before I heard the dial tone.

*Y/N POV*

Hanging up, I run out of my room, almost killing myself on the stairs. Grabbing my dad's spare Ford Escort keys, I'll thank him later, but now is not the time.

"Love can sometimes be painful. Still, it was the only thing I had ever known when it came to him. All my love I had for him, the only person who gave me butterflies was him. Day and night, all I could think about was him. The only person I couldn't imagine my life without..... was forever him." I think to myself as tire screeched on asphalt.

"Please still be there, I'm going." I plead.

Turning the corner, i saw his Camaro still there. He was sitting on his hood with his head down.

"Thank god" I say.

Billy's head whipping up upon hearing my car, screeching to a stop. His eyes were wide when I tackle him to the ground. "Hmpf," he weezed.

Giggling a "sorry" while placing my thighs around his hips. We are lying in the soft grass.

"William Hargrove, let me explain... your hair, muscles, and body were never that I fell for you harder than before. Sure, they helped, but it was your personality that you've shown me these several weeks. The personality that lies beneath these ocean blue eyes, your captivating voice that melts my insides. The life behind your smile was the reason I fell in love with you all over again. It's like I'm walking into heaven when I see you." I say, breathing heavy.

"I love you, you asshole." I laugh.

Staring up at me, his grip on my thighs with his large hands tightened slightly with my words.

"I love you too, baby girl." His voice breathy as he leans up to capture my lips with his. The kiss was soft but slightly possessive.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He officially asks.

Nodden my head shyly "yes"

"Use your words, princess." He smirks.

"Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend." I say.

He captures my lips once more, feeling the love pour into the kiss leaves me lightheaded.

As I got off of him I stuck my hand out for him to take. "Let's get you into bed, baby"

"Ugh, don't look at me like that, you idiot, you know what I mean." I scoff.

"Not my fault you look so good right now in your sleep clothes." He laughs as he heads to my car.

"He's unbelievable." I thought following behind him.

Previous Chapter

Part 7

Masterlist

2023

[bombcollar]

I was tagged by @go-go-devil!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I currently have 151.

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

327,526

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently the most recent fics I wrote have been for Cadence of Hyrule but I've also recently written for Iconoclasts and Pokemon.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Ferris Wheel (Bugsnax, Snorplo) - 248

Gemini (Bugsnax, body horror) - 169

Imitation Beef (Bugsnax, continuation of a canon scene) - 165

Imago (Elden Ring, Miquella wakes up as a big bug) - 154

Field Notes (Bugsnax, AU, cosmic horror) - 148

5. Do you respond to comments?

I always try to, even if it's just to say thanks.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh god probably one of my bugsnax fics... bugsnax really was ripe for angst. Both One Last Dance and Weary end in the implication that everybody has succumbed to the snax. I tend to leave things on more ambiguous notes than angsty, so even if the characters are in a sad or desperate situation it's uncertain what's going to happen to them next.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sleep is Dark Souls III fic that implies the age of dark is actually a good thing and Lorian and Lothric survive to see it after all they've been through. I know I have written other happy things but this one is very hopeful.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've gotten a couple shitty comments or ones where I was just like, I have no idea what you're trying to communicate to me, but they're extremely rare and I just delete them if I do get them.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

I do not write smut. Just not my thing.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

Not often, I have a few Fromsoft crossovers but I did write a Bugsnax/Nier Automata fic that never got finished. That's Between My Teeth.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, quite a few. Ao3 user Dashana in particular has translated a number of my Iconoclasts fics to Russian. I will probably never say no to having a fic translated if it helps it reach a larger audience, especially because I tend to pick niche fandoms or subjects.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have, with @malicious-fisheeves and with @wheeled-jack as well as some other friends who don't really use tumblr.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I really don't feel that strongly about ships much of the time but I do really like Wally/May from Pokemon RSE/ORAS and Gwyndolin/Darkmoon Knightess from Dark Souls.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Ugh I have this Mochi Mayhem rewrite thing in the works but I just can't seem to make any progress on it. I may put it out there unfinished but the problem is I have a big chunk of the beginning done and then a scene at the very end and nothing in the middle lmao.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told I'm really good at building dread. I personally think I'm good at writing platonic and familial character relationships, and writing characters who might be antagonists but who are complex and sympathetic.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have some trouble when it comes to writing incidental side characters that might serve a purpose for one scene but aren't really that important.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I really enjoy writing dialogue, it's one of my favorite parts of the process.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote a Rayman 3 fic about some OCs of mine probably back in 2003 or something. It was about these griffin-like creatures that had the powerups tested on them and it fucked them up because they were flesh and blood rather than made of cloth like the Hoodlum enemies are. They were trying to escape the facility they were kept in. Unfortunately I do not think it's still posted on my old ff.net account so it may be lost media.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I'll always be extremely proud of Monarch Sunrise (the bugsnax timeskip cruise fic) for the sheer scale of it (as far as my fics go) and for all the help I had plotting and editing it.

This is a tough question to answer though because I'm really happy with many of them. I'd say my favorite thing I've written lately is Lyre Lyre, my Octavo backstory fic, because I think it does a good job of laying out his situation in a concise and entertaining manner, like he's telling this story to a crowd.

as for tagging folks uhhh how about @wheeled-jack @mumagi @disco-descent