therummonster · 2 years ago
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here's another thing of Champagne and Benny just kinda vibin. ft an au i caused, and one i actually created.
{harpy benny au}fun fact: champagne can absolutely fuck up anyone in his work place, which he often feels tempted to do so. mostly cause they experiment on and traumatize his patients.
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hauntingblue · 7 months ago
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Toranaga's son is so funny. Failson 🫵🏻
#also toranagas brother.... hello......#his ponytail is so slay. his fit too fire. his swag too different. his smoke too hard. his bitch too bad. they'll kill you#omg the nephew eating and looking at anjin and mariko like this 😏#OH NO RED WEDDING????#THEY MADE HIM REGENT!!!!!!#she said i want a cortisan union and also retirement. slay#and also you fucked up and also i am leaving goodbye. every woman in here is such a diva. mariko and fuji need to step their game up!!#stop being emos!!! its diva time!!!#'i am going to kill myself and become ashes with them' BOOHOO!! GET YOUR MONEY UP!!! GET YOUR PUSSY UP!!#so they really wore g strings with a little (kinda big) flap as cover up... oden was just there a breath away from showing his junk#dancing at the town square.... jesus#white in the water!!!! its wet t shirt time out there jesus....... a bit of modesty please......#forgotten before you can be remembered.... boom roasted#it rains so much in there but mariko never feels the rain on her skin. no one else can feel it for you!! only you can let it in!!!#get your money up!!! get your pussy up!!!#fuck your husband!!! and the anjin too!! focus on your dono!! get your job done!! hustle!!!#the anjin needa to get some drip!! ugly ass clothes. doesnt his wage get him bether fabrics. what is going on there. fuji is sabotaging him#toranaga wearing gold and his brother silver..... slay#OH MY GOD#i couldnt have made a post about anyone else omg.....#that was brutal#a comment saying this death isnt poetic and is deus ex machina for the villain which... have you been watching lmao#he has been making mistake after mistake on purpose by disobeying his father over and over and here he goes again....#this one mistake even bigger than the rest bc he was going to kill his uncle (a regent now!!) after his father already made his decision#come on..... think a little#talking tag#watching shogun
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saetoru · 1 year ago
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours
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synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his
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— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)
— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!
— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys
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satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.
“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.
“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”
“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.
“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”
“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.
he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”
“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”
“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”
“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”
“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”
“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.
“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”
“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”
“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.
even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.
“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”
“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.
satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.
he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.
you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.
so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?
and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.
you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.
satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.
he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.
“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”
“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”
“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”
“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.
everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.
because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.
“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”
he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”
“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”
“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”
“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”
“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”
his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.
you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.
“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.
“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.
“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”
“got it,” you nod furiously.
“got what?”
“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.
“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”
“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”
“just what?” he raises a brow.
“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.
he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.
your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.
“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”
“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”
“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”
“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”
“say you love me,” he demands.
it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”
and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.
and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.
satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.
“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”
“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”
he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.
it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.
he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.
satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.
when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.
“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”
“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.
“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”
and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.
but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.
it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.
and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.
“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”
“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”
“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”
“how long do you plan on being mine?”
“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”
“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”
“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”
“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”
“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.
“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”
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dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this
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superectojazzmage · 3 months ago
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Just back from Alien Romulus and hoooo boy oh boy. Review/analysis.
Easily the best Alien movie since the first two, which isn't saying much, yeah, but it is legit a really cool and well-made movie, competing with Late Night With The Devil, Longlegs, and Cuckoo for title of my favorite horror movie this year.
In a lot of ways it's about harvesting the few good ideas from the post-2 movies that were squandered and doing them right, plus getting the series back to it's healthier roots, kinda the movie equivalent of someone doing physical therapy to get back in the saddle after an injury. This means it's not quite brand new ground like some may hope for and I've heard some people feel it gets a little derivative at points because of it. I can kinda agree and certainly understand that criticism, but I feel it does what it's aiming for really well and sets things up for future works to go in even crazier directions. Furthermore, it takes a lot of time to try and weld together the disparate post-2 movies in a way that brings the series back to a little coherency.
The atmosphere is really intense and cool, swinging between lovecraftian dread and build-up and high-energy chaos. The aesthetics and special effects are gorgeous, taking full advantage of the progress that technology has made since 2 plus really digging in to the used cassette future vibe of the older films. The characters are likable and actually intelligent (or at least understandable) in behavior like in the first two movies, so you care about what's happening to them instead of just waiting for them to get munched. The action and kills were really cool and creative, the cinematography in general was off-kilter in an awesome way - there's a definite attempt to make the movie feel claustrophobic and intimate. Fede Alvarez did a fantastic job in general, I'd love to see him do more with the series.
It REALLY cranks up the series' psychosexual, freudian, and sexual assault subtext, arguably to a point where it's just plain text. So if you're sensitive to stuff like that or if this is your first go at Alien, be warned for that.
More specific notes go under the header for spoilers. Highly recommend you go in as blind as you can.
Andy and Rain were wonderful leads, their dynamic was fantastic and Calie Spaeny and David Jonsson both turned in great performances. I direly hope they join the first two films' casts as "major" characters for the series going forward.
The effects to make Daniel Betts look like Ian Holms were quite possibly the one and only time the special effects failed. It looks very wonky, which is sad because Betts does a really good job copying Holms' mannerisms for Ash while still making Rook feel like a distinct character.
In addition to the usual themes of sexual unease, genetics, and parenthood, this movie adds in some really interesting themes of familial legacy, the rise of new generations, foundations, etc.. Andy and Rain are like Romulus and Remus of myth, orphaned and left to fend for themselves but growing into founders of a new age - both in-story with their carrying the XX121 substance and evidence of Weyland-Yutani's misdeeds to Yvaga and out-of-story with them being the protagonists of a new era for Alien. Likewise, the Offspring is the first example of an entirely new species, neither human nor alien but taking from the lineages of both through Kay and Big Chap, a Romulus-like founder of it's breed that will later bear fruit in Resurrection with the Ripley clone and Newborn.
I'm really not kidding when I say above that the psychosexual undercurrents are taken to the extreme here. This movie basically sees the ways the original film subtly pin-pricked at those themes, says "fuck that", and deliberately rubs it in your face in a way designed to make sure you can't ignore it. It wants you to be grossed out and to squirm in your chair and it knows exactly how to make it happen.
Alvarez noted in the lead-up to release that he took a lot of influence from Isolation and you can definitely see that in how he depicts the Xenomorphs and the general aura of the film. He further described it as a kind of halfway point between the first and second movies and you can also see that; it has the Lovecraft-style tension and horror of the first, balanced with the energy and action of the second, and it does a really good job finding a middle ground between Ridley Scott and James Cameron's styles while also doing it's own dance.
I mentioned way back at the start how the movie basically harvests the good ideas from 3, Resurrection, Prometheus, and Covenant and gives them the room they deserve while dumping the bad. It does that in both terms of themes/style and continuity/lore. Concepts that those movies bungled like xeno-human hybridism, the black goo, genetic engineering as a focus, and so on are done here more creatively and competently. Themes that those films tried and failed to tackle are handled with significantly more grace. It has the atmosphere and characterization of 3 but none of it's baggage and needlessly depressive tone. It has the body horror and weirdness of Resurrection without taking it to the zany, embarrassing areas that movie went. The effects and creativity of Prometheus and Covenant without any of their awful writing and clumsy messages. Alvarez takes on kind of an Al Ewing-esque "repairman" writing style here.
The Xenomorphs are absolutely deranged in behavior compared to most portrayals, attacking like either cruel sadists or raging chimps and rarely bothering to take hosts. I'm not sure if such a reading was intended, but I got the vibe that the idea is Xenos raised without a queen or hive grow to be basically sociopathic like how real world predatory animals grown without parental figures become feral and dysfunctional. Which would also explain a lot about how the Xeno in the original movie, Big Chap, acts there.
The Offspring's design is fucking wicked and I love it.
One of my few major criticisms is that Big Chap died off-screen instead of getting more to do. What was the point of having him be alive at the start if he wasn't gonna be used beyond a backstory point to set up the main story?
All in all, a very impressive effort and a great return to form for the series that I recommend highly.
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mid-stars · 2 months ago
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He loved you.
You Held his hand like he was your world. He finally found something worth fighting for.. Not for him... Not for the Aeons... Not for anyone else. His skin was soft as a glaze lily or soft as the softest fabric in the world. Caressing his face was like a melody.. One touch and you would be set to touch again.. And again.. And again forever.
"Darling?" His voice calls as you look at him. "Mhm" interlocking your hand as strands of hair intertwine your fingers "I love you" you smile as his eyes gleamed, inhaling your scent to memorize you... You smelled so beautiful... He just.. He wished you were back..
Back in his arms... And not just a mini grave to see.. Oh how much he would spend to have you physically back in his arms... "Hey.. How much longer will you pretend to die"
Silence
"Don't leave me quiet, say something!" The ground shook in silence, no matter how many steps he took... There was no more sound "is this how you leave me.. In silence like the rest of them?!"
"Answer me!"
"You know better than to yell at their grave" a voice answered "what do you know" he softly said "I know that they wouldn't be proud." The rain heavily clashed as the only sound was silence "do you think this is the way they wanted to see you after they die..?"
"Is this...?" A cold shivering touch held him on his feet "is this really the way you want them to see you? A monster.. A cruel horrible monster.."
A Swift blink for them to disappear as he tries to murder them "Shut up!" He clenched his teeth as his fingers dragged the weapon in his hands "how dare you comment on someone you never knew exists.."
*hic* the wounds of the ground stays in silence as the sobs of his tears could never bear the burden he wanted to spread. All in your ashes.. That's where he just wanted to be.. In ashes, with the flames that engulfed you.. Oh how badly he loved you..
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dmgloom · 1 year ago
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@yamujiburo this is very much your fault that I had to make this at 4am, but here we are.
The hoot-hoot clock on the wall ticked away the early morning hours as Jessie sat up reading on the couch. It was one of those restless nights where her brain kept reminding her of her various screw-ups. Once, she would have channeled that energy into devising some new caper with James and Meowth, but now they were upstanding citizens- the boys assisting Sam with his research, and Jessie…
Well, here she was, reclined on a couch she helped pick out, living in the house she shared with her wife and her stepson. How much of a screw-up could she really be? Take that, brain.
She only caught herself smiling when it was startled from her face by an unexpected voice.
"Da- Jessie," Ash started from the hallway. "...do you have a minute?"
He called her Dad most of the time because she pretended to be annoyed by it and it was hilarious. To hear him use her name… maybe she had screwed up and the kiddo was about rain down thunderous judgement. Between Delia's cooking and her relative lack of activity- criminal or otherwise- she wasn't sure she was spry enough to go blasting off again.
…But looking at Ash framed in the doorway, she could tell that wasn't the case. He looked small - he was small- only a few years out from the grandest of his adventures when he was ten years old. But he always seemed larger than life, so full of spark and spunk and an eagerness… stuff she'd thought she'd lost long ago. In hindsight, she'd been jealous. But now he looked uncertain. Maybe even afraid.
"What's up, twerp?" She said it warmly- it'd became a term of endearment between them now, though she'd never say it in front of Delia. She folded her book closed and sat up, patting the seat on the couch beside her in invitation. Ash hesitated, looking for a moment like he wanted to flee, but then crossed the room and sat down next to her. "Ash… what's wrong?"
He was quiet for a long moment. Fidgeting with something in his fingers. One of his older badges, worn but well-maintained. A small, bright, multicolored flower turned over between his digits again and again as he gathered his words.
"Do you remember… Celadon City Gym?" He asked finally.
She thought for a moment. Gyms weren't usually her scene, though she'd definitely been to a few, and with Ash… ah. The fire. "Gosh we really bunged that one up. I'm glad no one got hurt." She leaned forward and grasp his arm in sudden realization, "Ash you could've been killed, I'm… I'm sorry."
He smiled and shook his head. "No, not that part. Though I'm glad you aren't blowing stuff up any more." His brief sunny smile slipped back into melancholy. "No I mean, before that. When you helped me get in. With the disguise."
"Oh! That!" Jessie said, relieved, "definitely rushed but some of our better work, if I do say so myself. What about it?"
"I just… nevermind, it's stupid." He moved to stand, but Jessie held him back by his arm.
"Whatever it is, it's not stupid," she said firmly. "Tell me." She relaxed her grip and smiled up at him what she hoped was reassuringly "Please? It'll be okay."
He hesitated again, searching her face for… something, before sitting back down. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.
"Being Ashley… was fun," he said. "I thought it was just the excitement of sneaking in, and it was that, too but… I don't know, it was… easy?" He shook his head. "I think… I wanted to talk to you… and maybe James? I know he… uh… dresses up a lot. Or did." Ash flushed red as Jessie let him talk. She could tell he'd been thinking pretty hard about this- she was touched that he felt he could come to her, with this or indeed at all. She wasn't really sure where she stood with him most of the time, but now… she couldn't help but smile.
"James and I would be happy to talk about anything you wanted, Ash," she said. "I know it probably hasn't been easy- Pallet is kind of a backwater- and you're kind of a high-profile kid… Anyway, we're both here for you, I can wrangle the boys tomorrow and we can send Meowth off to run some errands, if that's what you want."
"Okay," he said. He seemed relieved already, if a bit still uncertain. "Do you think… do you think you could keep this a secret from Mom for now? I don't want to disappoint her."
Jessie gave him a sharp look. "Kiddo, your mother could never be disappointed in you. She almost broke up with me when I said that Riley kid had maybe filled out a bit better than you at the last Indigo awards ceremony." Ash chuckled and she smiled again. "But. I won't tell her if that's what you want. We can talk to her together, when you're ready, if that's what you want."
He nodded and she ruffled his hair. "Alright, get your butt in bed. It's… ouch, almost 4am."
He stood and walked toward the hall, toward his room. He paused in the doorway, filling it more than he had before, somehow.
"Thanks, Dad," he said, and smiled.
"Goodnight… Ashley." She winked. A bit of a nudge, perhaps, but his smile widened as he disappeared down the hall.
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vulpisnocturna · 11 months ago
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Hey there! Glad to see you're back! ♥ Since you say you want headcanon requests... How would all our Uchiha's (mostly Itachi because I'm such a simp for him, but also Shisui, Sasuke, Madara, Obito and Indra and maybe Indra respond if their lover was confirmed to have been captured by enemy forces on a mission or during a war? And how would they respond if/when their lover was recovered alive but showing severe physical and mental damage from the torture they'd endured?
Hey my lovely, happy to be back 🤍
Uchiha reactions to a captured/PTSD suffering S/O
Itachi:
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- would absolutely infiltrate enemy lines and retrieve their S/O, without sparing torture on the enemies. This man would torture them tenfold for every injury his S/O was subjected to. He would break their minds with Tsukuyomi and leave no survivors
- would be gentle and patient with his S/O, and it would break his heart to see them so broken after what happened to them. As a pacifist and someone who has a deep hatred for conflict and war, he would be furious and mournful that his SO has to live with the scars of the cruelty of the world
- He would definitely be the type to soothe his SO after nightmares, go for a walk in the moonlight with them to release pent-up stress, and generally be more protective of them. He would inform himself on how to best deal with panic attacks and try to therapise his S/O
- Itachi’s advice and “words of wisdom” may be of comfort but they may also fall flat because he tends to speak from a place of rationality more than emotion, and as a walking embodiment of PTSD, he’s one to talk. But hey, he is quite wise, and he means well.
Obito:
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- Would literally go absolutely batshit crazy if his S/O was kidnapped and held hostage by the enemy. Cue the Rin flashbacks. Would destroy the world, burn it to ashes, go to Hell and back and make it rain blood. …Literally. He would be on his most unhinged, insane behaviour
- his SO should expect to never leave his side after that. He will be overprotective, like they are an infant who is at risk of dying with every breath
- would have nightmares about what happened and it would enrage him and break his heart to see his S/O broken by what they endured.
- wouldn’t know what to say or do to console them, except promise to always protect them and never let it happen again
Madara:
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- you don’t fuck with Madara’s S/O. If you do, there is an incoming cataclysm your way. He would destroy their lineage for daring to hurting his loved ones. Would definitely worsen the war in an attempt to get revenge
- would be helpless in the face of dealing with PTSD. Madara is a strong person, who grew up not really learning how to express his feelings, and therefore, he doesn’t know how to deal with them
- would be the type to stand a few feet from them, stiff and awkward and boiling with fury and sorrow inside at the sight of their S/O hurting, but somehow, he can’t come up with anything worthwhile to say. Will probably say something like “it’s over now. It won’t happen again” and that’s it
Indra:
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- oh boy, you messed up. His S/O is like his most prized possession to him, and no one can take that from him and break one of his things. Takes it more as a personal insult rather than anything else. Will kill everyone who disrespected him like that
- will probably be saddened but also frustrated by his S/O’s inability to get over what happened
- “it’s over now. No point crying about it”. He doesn’t mean to be cruel, but it’s just a matter of stating facts to him.
- what, his S/O doesn’t trust him to keep them safe or something? Do they doubt his strength?
Shisui:
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- would definitely activate the other side of Shisui. Would efficiently and ruthlessly kill everyone who sought to hurt the person he loves. He would be there in a second
- the safety and comfort of his S/O after such a horrible ordeal would be his priority. A bit like Itachi, he would always be there to offer comfort, a shoulder to cry on or a distraction in difficult times to follow
- However, unlike Itachi’s therapy sessions, he is more the type to try to lighten the mood and lift his S/O’s spirits. He would make it his mission to make them laugh and keep them happy, sometimes to the point of stifling them and making them feel a little alienated
- if he’s asked to have a serious conversation about what happened, however, he is very serious about it, and very protective and comforting
Sasuke:
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- cue a revenge plan. He is not joking around. This man has lost every single person he loved, and if his S/O is abducted and tortured, he is there in the span of 0.1 second raining hellfire on the people who dared hurt a person he loves
- This man is like a big ball of PTSD, and not the best at comforting and offering advice on how to heal. It’s taken him years, a self-discovery journey, an obsessive friend beating him up and exploding his arm to heal. Expect him to be there like a silent presence hovering around his S/O like a cat sensing something is wrong with their favourite person but not knowing what to do about it
- would wake them up from nightmares and sit with them in silence to calmly listen to them vent and cry. Sasuke is a very emotional person underneath, but he thinks he needs to be strong for his loved one, to be a safe haven but mostly an anchor to rely on
- would be terrified himself of losing his S/O again, and therefore be quite overprotective (he stalks his S/O secretly wherever they go)
622 notes · View notes
thepixelelf · 26 days ago
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superhero cheol x tech whiz reader warnings: coarse language, death threats, manipulation, injury, gunfire. wc: 1.7k
read part 1 & part 2 first
[anonymous nights 3] Seungcheol didn’t burn down the entire building. Minghao wouldn’t let him.
In fact, despite the urgent need find you within the maze that was the old seafood packaging factory and warehouse, now known as the sketchiest place in northern uptown, Minghao’s focus was completely on damage control. Seungcheol could feel Minghao constantly at the back of his mind, keeping him in check when all he wanted to do was burn the stupid place to the ground — after finding you of course. While Seungcheol barged through each and every door in his search, Minghao made sure he didn’t kill anyone in his way, and Seokmin lagged behind, healing said people with his rejuvenation and slapping them in zipties to deal with later. 
No one else was with them. Seungcheol had rushed out too quickly for anyone to call for backup, and only Minghao had the foresight to grab three masks before dashing from headquarters. That was why they were running so haphazardly through the warehouse — they had no one to guide them. None of them even stopped running to put on their masks, each fitting perfectly to their faces thanks to your latest invention in the supersuit department. 
It was when Seungcheol busted through a door roughly labeled “Storage Unit 3″, flames and all, that he finally froze.
“No sudden movements, hothead.”
You were in the middle of the empty unit, tied to a chair with your head hung limp. A man, the one who spoke, stood next to you, the tip of his gun a mere inch from your temple.
Seungcheol felt blindingly hot rage flow through his blood, but although every nerve in his body screamed at him to rush forward, he stayed frozen. His fingers couldn’t even twitch.
No sudden movements, Minghao reminded him in his head. Normally, Seungcheol would try anything to block Minghao out of his mind, but he had to get his priorities straight. He tried to clench his teeth, but couldn’t.
They’re alive. Let’s try to keep it that way.
I get it, I get it! Seungcheol barked back in his thoughts, hoping Minghao could hear him. He felt the hold on his control loosen.
Seokmin’s still back there, we need to—
“What, nothing to say, dear heroes?” the man interrupted without knowing, his voice reverberating off the cold stone walls. “I must say, when I found out that idiot lackey of mine let this little bitch get a phone call, I expected the cops.” He waved his free hand as he spoke, gesturing towards Seungcheol. “But who would’ve guessed this twerp was all cozy with the hero brigade?”
The man’s laugh rang hollow, and it sent a shiver down Seungcheol’s spine. He never shivered.
Can you get in his head?
He’s a goddamn psychopath, Minghao complained.
But can you?
It’ll take a minute. Keep him talking.
“Ignoring me now?!” the man yelled. His finger twitched on the trigger, the sight causing Seungcheol to dig his nails into his palms. “Maybe I’ll just shoot them right now, just for pissing me off.”
“Touch one fucking hair on their head and I'll turn you to ash!” Seungcheol bellowed, his restraint finally lost. Minghao’s hold on him had completely let go once he started focusing on getting into the motherfucker’s head.
“Oh, he has a voice,” he teased. “Solar Flare, isn’t it? Everyone’s favourite fiery hero. Well I have news for you, wonderboy—” his jaw tensed “—I’m already dead.”
Flame erupted from Seungcheol’s hands, but he stayed still. The man laughed again, dry and cynical.
“So why don’t you just let it happen, huh? Neither of us—” he waved the gun at your head “—are getting out of here alive. You could let me end it quickly and painlessly, or…” Seungcheol bit his lip as he watched the man’s disgusting smirk grow wider. The man spun your chair so that Seungcheol could only see your side, and he stuck the barrel of his gun in the dip of your eye socket. “…I could rain so much hell, you’d have to bury a faceless body. You decide.”
“Just let them go.”
“I could,” he said casually, “but a deal like that needs a trade, don’t you think?”
“What kind of trade?”
He laughed. “For their life, I want mine in return. All you have to do,” he explained through a smirk, “is let me walk away.”
“Fine.” It didn’t matter what Seungcheol agreed or didn’t agree to as long as Minghao could stop him. (Though he was taking his damn time.)
“And.” The man paused, cocking his head to the side with an air of confidence. “I want a plane.”
“I’m not fucking SWAT. I don’t have that kind of power.”
“Well then we don’t have a deal, do we?”
You used to tell him about the books you would read as a kid, and the strange things that would happen in them. One thing you would always complain about was the “slowing down time thing” that you claimed people used too much in both books and movies. “That doesn’t happen in real life,” you’d said. “Unless we find a time-controlling superhero. You know what? That’s a great idea actually, remind me to write that down.”
But Seungcheol felt it now, the way time slowed as he watched the man’s finger tighten over the trigger, and he felt as if the fire burning in his hands no longer had the power he's feared his entire life. His voice couldn’t come out in time. The step forward he tried wasn’t fast enough.
He lost.
A thundering gunshot echoed throughout the room, and Seungcheol barely registered that he had closed his eyes. He battled with himself over whether to look, to finish that bastard off right then, but a strangled scream forced his eyes open to watch as the man collapsed to the ground, the gun clattering to the floor as his eyes bulged. He thrashed and squirmed on the ground before falling still, his eyes turning blank.
“Shit,” Minghao breathed out behind Seungcheol. He fell to his knees, clutching at his own hair with eyes screwed shut — evidence of overworking his mental powers. “Fuck.”
Seungcheol took a shaky step towards you, his feet slow as everything began to settle. The room was silent save for Minghao’s uneven breaths and the distant sound of Seokmin’s footsteps. He wanted to ask Minghao if you were alive, to check with his power because he was too scared to get close without knowing, but he could tell Minghao was in no condition to get up, much less get a read.
So he stumbled your way, uncertainty driving him.
Minghao had to have saved you. That was what they did. Save people.
You had to be okay.
You had to.
The adrenaline seeped from him, leaking out so that he could finally hear the pounding of his own heart. He fell to his knees at your feet, first looking at the floor, then slowly raising his head. Cupping your face in his hands and lifting it up, Seungcheol let out a breath of relief when he saw nothing on your slack face other than a few scrapes.
He’d never cried in front of you before, but today, now, he allowed himself to let go, dropping his face into your lap. You were still unconscious anyways.
After a while, he dimly registered voices whispering behind him, and when he lifted his head again, Seokmin had his hand on the back of your neck, his eyes closed as he focused on healing you. It wasn’t as simple as that, but Seokmin felt solace knowing that you’d live to see tomorrow.
Once Seokmin finished, you began to stir, and Minghao clapped Seungcheol on the shoulder. “We’ll be outside,” he said. “Seokmin, grab the guy on the ground. He’s not dead yet, but I don’t want him waking up before backup gets here.”
Seungcheol watched as they left and dragged the lump of a man with them, then focused on you as your eyes scrunched tight. You let out a pained groan.
“Hey,” he said softly, untying your restraints. With you freed, he gently guided you to the floor with him so that you sat on your knees, your top half slack against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, one landing on your back where his thumb rubbed in circles. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s me.”
You tensed in his hold for a second but relaxed after another few, soothed by his quiet assurances. A small, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of you, and Seungcheol shut his mouth.
“A fucking cult,” you mumbled into his shirt. The words were so quiet that Seungcheol barely heard them.
“What?”
You laughed again, and while ten minutes ago, Seungcheol had been begging any god he could think of to hear your laugh again, he didn’t want this. You sounded so… sad. Defeated.
“A cult, Solar Flare,” you said louder this time, though he could tell your throat was dry. His heart panged at the use of his alias, recalling how real his actual name had sounded during that phone call. He wondered if you would ever call him that again. You clutched your fingers in the fabric of his shirt, which was starting to get soaked by the tears he hadn’t noticed before. “That son of a bitch was sacrificing kids to some fucking moon god and I — fuck, I don’t know. I just wanted to get a closer look. I didn’t think… I didn’t…”
You took a deep, ragged inhale, the breath shaking your entire body in Seungcheol’s arms, which only made his grip tighten. Another bout of laughter escaped your lips, but he knew it was to cover up your crying. Though Seungcheol was the superhero, you were always the one wearing a mask — one to cover up how you actually felt.
“Fuck, Solar, I was so fucking scared.”
He gave you a few pats on the back. Then, quietly, “Well maybe don’t get any ‘closer looks’ from now on.”
Nothing sounded better than your real laugh.
“You’re probably right,” you admitted.
“Of course I’m right. You may be the brains of the operation, but you can be a real dumbass sometimes.”
As you giggled into his shoulder, Seungcheol closed his eyes as the world aligned itself once more. You were alive, You were laughing.
“That was really smart of you,” he said after a short while. He didn’t know how long you needed to recover, but he also didn’t want to stay in the storage unit for long. It already had bad memories. “You know, the tracking chip thing.”
“Oh, that?” You raised your head, meeting his eyes with a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll have to disable it and install a new one for next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“Well—”
He gave you a look -- the one you tended to give him.
“Fine. There won’t be a next time. I’m still installing a new one though.” Slowly, you stood, shaky on your legs with Seungcheol to steady yourself on. You kept your hands on his shoulders. “And Seungcheol?”
He paused, hands on your upper arms in his attempt to help you stand.
“Sorry about what I must've said. You know, on the phone. I know I probably made you uncomfortable, but I’ve kinda had that scenario written down for six years, so I didn’t really have a choice. I didn’t mean to weird you out with all the gushy first date stuff… Sorry, I’m making it awkward again.”
Dropping your head, you sighed and moved to go, but Seungcheol held you still, making you look up at him with question.
“So the things you said,” he began to ask, his words slow with doubt as he licked his lips. “You didn’t mean any of it?”
“No?” Your brows furrowed. “What? Did I say something weird?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Not really… The guy knocked me out, and before that I only remember one of his followers letting me have a phone call. But you’re here, so I must’ve told my cover story. What did I say?”
Seungcheol’s eyes widened. “Um, you said… uh.”
“Uh…?” You gestured for him to go on.
“Forget it!” Seungcheol gulped down whatever he wanted to say and dropped his hands from your arms, swiftly turning and walking to the exit.
“What?!” you exclaimed, following after him and catching up at his side. You turned your head as you walked, but Seungcheol kept his eyes forward. “What do you mean forget it? I’m trying to remember what I said to you. C’mon!”
“No. It was stupid.”
“Well now I really wanna know,” you whined. “What did I say? Did I confess to stealing your chips because if I did I was lying. That definitely wasn’t me. Or was it that I have two stray cats in my apartment that I need you to take care of because I promise you, now that I’m alive, I can take care of them by myself. Wait, I didn’t tell you where I live, did I? Because that’s against company policy and I really don’t want boss finding out that—”
“You said you love me!”
At his outburst, the both of you froze in the middle of the hall. Seungcheol’s hand rose to cover his mouth, but the damage was already done, he’d already said everything. A terrible few seconds passed where nothing happened, and Seungcheol wished he could just steal Minghao's powers and snap his fingers to make you forget any of this ever happened.
Your face twisted with a playful smile, eyes lit with your classic mischief. You began to laugh, your own hand coming up to your face.
Fuck. Obviously that was part of the script. No one could love him. All he did was burn things. All he could do was destroy.
You couldn’t love him, not in a million years.
“Seungcheol.”
His name again. Hearing it in your voice (for, what, the fourth time?) brought pause to his melancholy thoughts. You stepped closer, leaning in to take his hands in your own and hold them between you.
“Of course I love you. I love you in a way I’ve never loved anyone before. And I choose to feel that way. You know that, right?”
“I…”
“And you care about me too, Seungcheol. I know that. We might not be like that high school couple I talked about on the phone, but we’re a team. We have each other’s backs. I trust you with almost everything I have, and you? You came all the way to this shithole just to save your tech assistant.” You squeezed his hands, not minding the heat that seemed to rush through them, nor the red on Seungcheol’s cheeks. “We’re partners in crime. Or I guess, partners in fighting crime, and we’re here for each other. If that’s not some type of love, I don’t know what is.”
Seungcheol trembled, unsure of what to ask out of the hundreds of questions he had on the tip of his tongue.
“C’mere,” you said, pulling him into a hug.
He wrapped his arms around you, holding tight because if he let go again, he wouldn’t know what to say. In his head, he whispered, I love you, over and over again.
I love you I love you I love you.
One day, he thought as you brought him outside by the hand, your features outlined — illuminated — with the red and blue lights of the police car sirens. One day, he’ll tell you out loud.
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part 1 | part 2
116 notes · View notes
thornsnvultures · 1 year ago
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syrup & honey
eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader
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summary: eddie needs a place to stay on Halloween night and your window's always open
cw: 18+ nsft, smut, vampire!eddie, afab!reader, flirty!eddie, oral (fem rec), breast play, fingering, p in v sex, blood drinking, creampie, cheesy fluff, steve makes a background appearance as eddie's blood dealer of sorts, 2.7k words
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"Can't sleep?"
Eddie's voice is quiet, just barely heard over the rain pouring outside. You look up from your book at your open window. Eddie's perched on the sill, his long, black coat is drenched and dripping on the floor.
"C'mon in Eddie," you sigh, closing your book. You turn on the lamp next to your bed, soft yellow light filling the small space. Eddie happily jumps in and makes for your bathroom where he sheds his coat, dropping it in the tub with a wet splat. At least he has the sense to not throw it over your couch. Again.
When Eddie appears again he's shirtless and you can't help but roll your eyes. He's rubbing at his damp curls with one of your towels, his lithe muscles bunching and stretching. He's flexing on purpose.
"Why are you here?"
"What, I can't drop in and say 'hi'?" Eddie tosses the used towel in your hamper across the room and plops down on the chair by your bed. Your studio apartment feels so much smaller when Eddie's here, all stretched out on your bargain furniture. "It's Halloween, babe. You should be out partying. With me." Eddie grins and his teeth flash in the light of a sudden lightning strike.
"It's miserable out there, Eddie. I'm not getting all dressed up in a slutty little costume just to get cold and wet," you huff, pulling your comforter up over your tits. You shouldn't have said slutty. Shouldn't have taken your bra off either. You knew Eddie would stop by, it's why you left the window open. But now you were cold and you felt... exposed under his hungry gaze. The way he looked at you in your sleepshirt, like he was picturing you in an assortment of terrible costumes that left nothing to the imagination.
"I'm sure I could've warmed you up, honey," Eddie practically purrs, leaning forward on his chair, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him like it's the only thing keeping him from reaching out and grabbing you.
"What you can do is sleep on the couch. Just close the curtains before you lay down."
"Right," Eddie chuckles and leans back on the chair. "Wouldn't want you to wake up to a pile of ash on your couch. It'd take you weeks to vacuum it all up." Eddie bites his lip with one long canine. "Are you sure I can't help keep you warm, honey? You look awfully cold."
"You never closed the window. And this is a twin bed. Not happening."
"So if I got you a king sized you'd let me in?"
"Not what I said," you shook your head.
"How 'bout a queen? A full? It'll be full of us, that's for sure." Eddie slams the window shut and winks at you and suddenly you're not so sure letting him stay the night was the best idea. You feel claustrophobic with that window shut tight.
"The only thing that's full is you. Full of yourself."
"Oooh, good one, honey." Eddie plops down at the foot of your bed. You move your feet out of the way just in time before he flops backwards and crushes them. Eddie stretches out like a cat, groaning long and loud.
"Eddie quit it," you kick him with your foot. "You're getting my sheets all wet."
"Not the first time these sheets have been wet though, huh?"
"Oh my god, Eddie, shut up." The pillow at your side bounces off his stupid grinning face when you chuck it at him. "I was trying to be nice when you asked for a place to stay for the night. If I knew you were gonna be a little shit about it, I would've said no."
"C'mon, honey," Eddie pouts, sitting up. "We've been friends for how long and this is how you treat me?"
"Eddie, I've only known you for a month!"
"Exactly! And look at how close we've gotten in such a short time," Eddie smirks as he crawls up the bed. You can't take your eyes off his, bright red and glowing. How his teeth shine in the moonlight like pearls. Before you know it, Eddie's knees are bracketing your hips, caging you in with his arms, with you flat on your back.
"Eddie," you caution. "What are you doing?"
You gasp when Eddie leans down and presses his nose to your jaw, nudging it and turning your face so he can breathe you in. You feel him shudder, his hair still dripping around your face. Eddie presses a kiss to your jugular, just light enough that you're not sure if you imagined it. But then he does it again. And again.
"Let me taste you," Eddie whispers into your skin. "I know you'll taste so sweet."
"Eddie," you push at his chest like you don't want this, like you're not aching to feel the hot, wet suction of his mouth on your skin. Like you haven't been dying to know what it was like since Steve introduced the two of you at his bar downtown, the one Eddie was trying to get you to go to tonight.
"Don't make me beg, honey," Eddie groans and licks a stripe up your thundering pulse. "I promise I'll be gentle."
Your grip on your blanket loosens with every soft kiss and lick Eddie presses to your skin. When you arch up into his touch you ask yourself if you're really doing this, letting him touch you like this. You've never... been with someone like Eddie. Before you met him all you knew of his kind was violence, stories you hear on the news, homicidal maniacs and sex perverts. Eddie was one of those two for sure, but he'd never hurt anyone. Not unless they asked. Were you asking? Would you let him just like you let him in?
It seemed your body was answering for you, slick between your thighs, nipples pebbled in the cool air. It was October and your super still hadn't turned the heat on. Without your thick blanket the room would be unbearable, but you could barely feel it. Eddie was radiating heat. He tore the blanket off of you and you could feel it everywhere. Every inch of him surrounds you like a balm to soothe your goosebumps away.
He must've fed before he came here. You hoped it was from the secret bar stock and not one of Steve's other patrons. Though, why that bothered you so much you didn't know. Eddie didn't owe you that. You weren't his. He just wanted to play with you, roll around in your sheets for the night. See if you tasted as sweet as his nickname for you. And you were fine with that, really you were.
You gasped as Eddie tugged up your sleep shirt, his warm hands traveling up your hips to your waist.
"Can I?"
You're moving your body before the word "yes" even falls from your lips. Eddie pulls your shirt all the way off and he's on you before it even hits the floor, kissing down your neck, to your chest. His fangs lightly scrape your skin, scratching at you like a cat pawing at a closed door, begging to be let in.
Eddie takes your nipples in his mouth, flicking his tongue over one tight bud before moving to the other until you're writhing under him. Your hips lift with every nibble and tug, grinding against the obvious bulge in his too tight jeans.
"Eddie, please," you tug at his hair, unsure of what you're begging for. You just need more, something harder and faster before you scream.
"Shhh, I got you." Eddie's warm hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing your spit slick peaks as he kisses you. He's careful not to knick you with his teeth, all lips and tongue, devouring you in a way you didn't expect him to tonight. Not that you were hoping for him to- who are you kidding? You've wanted him since the first night you saw him.
You're panting when Eddie pulls away, inching down your body, mapping out a trail of kisses and bites along the way. The groan that rips from his chest when he pulls your panties down stops you from instinctively trying to close your legs. You're nervous, being looked at like that. Like Eddie's a cartoon dog and you're a pie someone left on a window sill. But his hands push your thighs open. You want to let him in, need to let him in, so you let him spread you wide. He kisses your thighs, up to your knee and back down again on both sides until you're begging again. You can feel his warm breath on your center, your head thrown back as your hips roll, trying to entice him to just put his mouth on you already.
"You're so pretty, honey. Knew you'd be pretty," Eddie mumbles, more to himself than you, and kisses your clit. He rubs it with his tongue, delicious little flicks that have you gasping and tugging on his hair.
"So fucking wet for me," Eddie groans and spears you open on his tongue. And, god, yes you are. Soaking his face when he slips a thick finger into your cunt, dragging an orgasm, then another, out of you with his mouth suckling on your clit.
Those big red eyes of his stare up at you, watching you as you cum, shaking and gasping for air, your whole body seizing. Eddie's fingers work you through each one, not stopping until you're pushing him away, begging him for a break. His face is soaked in your slick, dripping from his chin.
"Did so good for me."
You sigh as Eddie kisses your thighs, still watching you. His pussy soaked fingers reach up to tweak your nipple, grinning when you gasp.
"Can you be good for me again? I know I just ate," Eddie winks and you roll your eyes, too sapped of energy to smack him. "But those blood bags Steve keeps stocked for me aren't enough. I need the real thing."
Your tummy flutters. He didn't feed from anyone else tonight. It shouldn't make you feel giddy but it does. You nod your head pulling Eddie closer to you by your legs around his back.
"If I'm letting you bite me, then I need you inside me, Eddie."
"Fuck. Yes, anything you need, honey, I'll give it to you." Eddie fumbles with his pants, chucking them off a little too hard when they get stuck on his foot.
You laugh when he pounces on you again, settling between your thighs. He peppers your face with kisses and you can still smell yourself all over him but you don't care. Your laughs turn into moans as Eddie ruts against you, his cock sliding between your folds, bumping against your sensing clit.
Eddie sits up on his knees, dick in hand as he tap, tap, taps the head on your clit.
"Can I come inside?" Eddie smirks.
"You're so dumb," you laugh. "Fuck me already, Eddie."
Eddie smiles, one fang catching on his lip, as he slides in. You try to relax as Eddie eases his way in. He's not crazy long but he's thick and he knows it, taking his time stretching you out inch by inch.
"Oh fuck," you shout when Eddie rubs at your clit to help ease you open.
"That's it, honey. Take it all. I know you can. Look at that pretty, little pussy swallowing me up. Fuck," Eddie groans. "Once I'm all the way in, I'll take what I need. I don't think I'm gonna last, honey. Squeezing me so fucking tight."
Eddie's so focused on your pussy, you just stare at him. Your eyes lidded and hazy, you can't help but wish it could be like this all the time. Like he could be yours. All sweaty and shiny in the moonlight. Pale skin and tattoos and strong fingers that know just how and where to touch you like he was born to do it.
Finally you feel it, his hips meeting yours, and you swear you've never felt this full in your life. It sits in your chest, telling you that this feels so, so right.
Eddie lays flush with your body, not crushing you, just holding, rolling his hips into you with delicious little thrusts that send shockwaves up your spine.
"Relax for me," Eddie whispers as he kisses down your jaw. He tilts your head to the left, your jugular exposed. He kisses you there over and over until finally you feel his mouth open wide, his hot breath on your neck. It's quick, the pain. You only feel it for a flash before it's gone and then you feel nothing but ecstacy. You come with a shout, clenching around Eddie's cock and clawing at his back, leaving trails of red on his pale skin. It's like nothing you've felt before, but at the same time you have. You've felt his lips, his tongue, working your clit, sucking your folds, drinking every drop of your juices, and it feels much the same. Devouring you. His tongue lapping up everything, drinking you deep until he's groaning into your flesh.
"Cum inside me, Eddie," you plead, as Eddie's thrusts get sloppier, more frantic. "Please, Eddie."
Eddie pulls off your throat and cums with a shout, burying his face in your shoulder as his cock kicks, his balls emptying inside you in wave after wave.
Eddie stays there as you rub his back. You almost don't want him to pull out. He's tenderly licking your neck, stopping the flow of blood before it ruins your sheets.
"You taste so fucking good," Eddie groans.
"Which? Pussy or blood?"
"Both," he sobs dramatically into your chest. Eddie sits up and smiles at you, licking his lips. His chin is covered in a mix of blood and pussy. It's a little disturbing, but honestly, not as bad as you thought it would be. You shudder when he pulls his softening cock free, feeling his release ooze out.
"Fuck that's a lot of cum," Eddie says in awe. You whine and bat his arm away when he tries to push it back inside.
"S-stop, too much."
Eddie uses the same towel he used earlier to clean the both of you off and washes his face in the bathroom sink and closes your heavy curtains before coming back to you.
"Thank you, honey," he hands you a bottle of water and slides in behind you, pulling you to his chest. "You ok?"
"Just a little sore."
"Thanks for letting me in," Eddie says as he snuggles in closer. "And I don't just mean-"
"I know," you laugh and elbow him in the ribs.
"I want to keep seeing you," he says.
"As friends?"
"Is that what you want?"
You think of Eddie waking around your apartment, being here when you get home from work, reading in bed with him at night, going to Steve's together. It's not going to be easy with his... schedule but,
"No, I want you. I want... us. You drive me crazy, but I like being with you, Eddie. I don't want this to be a one time thing. Or friends with benefits."
You roll over and look at his deep, red eyes.
"Do you want me too, Eddie? For more than just, this," you wave your hand between the two of you.
"Of course I do," Eddie takes your head in his hands and kisses you. "If you said no I'd still come over here and bug the shit outta you until you said yes," he grins.
"Creeping at my window at 2am?"
"Like you weren't up touching yourself waiting for me," Eddie teased, nipping at the tip of your nose. "I saw what you were reading before I came in."
"Oh please," you push at his chest, your face heating. Eddie wobbles, nearly going off the side of your twin. He catches himself, cackling because he's right.
"Next time I come knocking on your window you can give me a show, yeah? Or you could come out with me to Steve's and we can defile his storage closet. Maybe the bathrooms."
"Shut up!" You laugh hitting Eddie's chest as he tugs you close.
"You've thought about it haven't you," Eddie kisses your cheeks, your jaw.
"Don't start, Eddie," you gasp as he licks the tender flesh where he bit you.
"I'm not starting," Eddie shrugs and pushes you onto your back. "I'm continuing. Never said I was done with you."
~~~
~~
~
🖤🎃 happy halloween!!<<
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mintmatcha · 7 months ago
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Inevitable Things: chapter two
aizawa x reader fic
cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)
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When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day. 
It’s your birthday, after all.
The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love. 
You did, however, forget your umbrella.
One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.
“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin. 
“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”
“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.
 “Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-���
“Izuku, focus.”
“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”
“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”
Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”
It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints. 
“No.”
“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”
Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.
“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”
“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”
“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”
He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.
“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”
Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.
“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly. 
“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”  
“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.” 
You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and  you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him. 
“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”
“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”
You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point.  You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.
The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks. 
“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”
You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”
“Please,"  he says, and you understand immediately.
“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”
“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”
He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is. 
“That sounds lovely.”
“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”
“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”
“What kind of mistake?”  
“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today.  “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”
“-Shouta?”
 “Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”
There's a pause.
“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”
You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind. 
“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”
Yagi hums a low tone.
“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”
“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”
“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”
“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”
“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”
“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day. 
You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.
The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.
You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.
It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.
You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.
Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall,  meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.
 His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.
“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.” 
The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink. 
“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”
Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”
“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”
He leans in even closer.
“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”
Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful. 
“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"
Shoes, look at your shoes.
"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”
Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-
“Do you understand that?”
You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers. 
Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.
“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.
“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”
It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you. 
Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.  
Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.
Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way. 
By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.
Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too. 
A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.
do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-
Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.
->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????
-is that a no? ): <-
->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15
You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.
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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 1 year ago
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Steddie Upside-down AU Part 22
Part 1 Part 21
It’s either very late or very early. The early rays of dawn light are just barely shining through the windshield. It’s warm on Will’s face in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. That place had been cold. It had been dark. He had been alone.
And then there was Eddie and Steve. Their hands were warm on his shoulder, on his cheek. Their quiet voices are a balm to the bleakness blooming in his lungs. They’d saved him, time and again. And now Eddie’s catatonic in the seat beside him, and Steve is still there. In the dark. Alone. 
Where WIll had left him. 
Barbara’s looking out the window on his other side, leaning as far away from him as possible, like she can feel the darkness that he can still feel clinging to him from that place.  In the front seat, Jonathan’s gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. Nancy’s vibrating in the passenger seat, twitching like she’s bursting for a fight.
Will doesn’t know why any of these people are here, or where they’re going. He doesn’t know much of anything anymore. 
The unasked question is answered when Jonathan pulls into the driveway. He’s home. 
The house is in shambles when he walks in. Christmas lights hang, unlit from the ceiling like they’d been strung up in a hurry. The dining room table is overturned, chairs upside down, boxes scattered to and fro. Will doesn’t know what happened here, and that unknowing makes the pit finally sink into his stomach. He’s been gone. He doesn’t know how long, but it’s written into the disarray of their home. He’s been gone. 
“Mom?” Jonathan calls. 
Will stands on the threshold, something tightening in his throat. For a second, he swears there’s ash raining down. Blinks and it’s gone.
“Mom?” Jonathan calls again, louder.
Barbara and Nancy follow him in. Eddie stands by his side, slinging his arm around his shoulders, warm like forgiveness. “Come on, baby Byers.” Talking sounds like it hurts him. Will lets himself be led.
Jonathan comes back from his walkthrough of the house. “She’s not here,” he says. Will nods, leans further into Eddie’s side. There’s a funny look on Jonathan’s face that he’s never seen before. It congeals in his throat until he’s hiccuping on it. “Oh, hey, she’s just been spending a lot of time with the Chief. Trying to get you back.”
She’d sounded so desperate on the phone, and when the lights started flickering. He’d heard his Mom and Lonnie talking once, back when things weren’t good between them, but a little better. Lonnie had said, “no one should have to bury their own kid,” and his Mom had sucked in a breath like even the thought was enough to leave her breathless. 
There’d been a story in the newspaper that day about a kid two towns over drowning in the river. His Mom’s hug was extra hard that day.
He wants her arms now. She’ll know how to bring Eddie back from the brink, and get Steve out of that place where everything is wrong. She can do anything.
“How long has it been?” He doesn’t realize he’s the one who asked until Eddie squeezes his shoulders.
Jonathan takes a step back, like Will’s question hit him like a slap. Nancy takes a step forward, opens her mouth, and answers. “Five days.” 
It seems like too long and not long enough. He feels tainted, permanently changed from being out of school for a week. 
“So, four days for me and Steve?” Eddie asks.
“When did you two get there?” Nancy asks.
Did anyone even know they were missing? Did anyone look for them like they had for Will? 
“At that party,” Eddie says. “When you and Steve had your little, uh, lovers quarrel.” The last part comes out biting and bitter, like Eddie’s a dog being fed rancid meat, but he’s too hungry not to eat. 
“Oh,” Nancy says, looking down at her white tennis shoes. Everyone in this house looks like a real person – real and clean and alive. Will’s not sure what crawled out of the hole in that place in his place, but he’s not sure it’s alive.
His insides are gnawing at him, writhing like they’re alive.
“What now?” Barbara asks.
“Now, we feed the squirt here,” Eddie says, shaking Will around like a ragdoll, “and then we get Steve the fuck out of there.”
Jonathan and Nancy make sandwiches. Will wonders if Eddie’s tastes like sawdust, too. 
“We should go to his parents, right?” Barbara asks, picking at her own sandwich disinterestedly.
“No,” Will says, just at the same time as Eddie says, “No fucking way!”
Barbara widens her eyes, clearly shocked. She hadn’t been there when Steve seemed like he’d rather gnaw his own arm off than go to his house to try and call his own parents. She’s never lived with the looming shadow of Lonnie Byers pacing outside her bedroom door in the middle of the night.
“There’s no way they’ve even realized Steve is missing,” Eddie says, vehemently, “much less care.”
Jonathan shoots Will a look, and Will knows they’ve both mentally inducted Steve Harrington into the bad dad’s club. Maybe Eddie, too. 
“Then, what?” Barbara asks with a sigh, clearly done with their shit. 
“We have to find it again,” Nancy says.
Barbara looks at her best friend like she’s never seen her before. “You want to go back out there?”
“Maybe we don’t have to.”  she says, folding her hands primly on the table, even as her eyes go flinty and hard. “When I saw it, it was feeding on a dead deer, meaning it’s a predator, right?” No one responds, so she keeps going. “And it seems to hunt at night, like a lion or a coyote.”
“It got me and Steve at night,” Eddie says.
“Me, too,” Will contributes, when everyone looks at him. “I fell off my bike and scraped my hands. It got in the house.”
“You were bleeding?” Eddie asks, turning fully in his chair to bore holes into Will’s head until he nods. He sinks into his chair, knocking his head backward to stare up at the ceiling. “At the party, Steve punched the wall. His knuckles were bleeding.”
It comes out lifeless. Will wants to beg him to stay here at the table with them, not drift back into his mind where no one can follow. But, Steve and Eddie seem a lot like him and Mike, intrinsically linked until one doesn’t seem right without the other, like best friends always are. 
He hopes Mike is okay. 
“Of course he did,” Barbara mutters.
Eddie comes back to life at the comment to snarl at the girl. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
“Okay!” Nancy says, raising her hands palm up, placating. “We all want Steve back, right?” Everyone nods, even Barbara with her pursed mouth and cold eyes.  “It's just a theory, but sharks can detect blood in one part per million, that’s one drop in a million, and they can smell it from a quarter mile away.”
“So, you’re saying it can detect blood?” Jonathan asks.
“It’s just a theory,” Nancy replies.
“We could test it,” Will says. “But if it works.” He doesn’t finish the thought. He never wants to see the Demogorgon again, but for Steve, he will. Steve Harrington had saved his life, and then Will had taken Eddie away from him. 
“At least we’ll know it’s coming,” Eddie says, as only a person who’d been surprised by it too many times. “And we’ll be ready. 
Part 23
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dinasfavslut · 1 year ago
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hello could you do a sal fisher x fem reader who is very confident but also really friendly?
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Ok so I tried but I wasn’t sure if you wanted smut or fluff I guess it’s just more fluff and to be completely honest is was kinda lazy with it I’m sorry it’s not my best but I hope you like it (probably will delete later)
Sally Face x Fem!r
No major warnings slight smut near the end but just like leaving marks and neck kisses
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I believe that he has many insecurities because of the trauma he experienced as a child and because of the mask he wears.
-
When you go to the beach, Sal normally doesn't get in the water; he doesn't want his mask to get torn or fly off by a large wave, and if he does, he makes sure it doesn't get above his knees.
-
As much as he adores you, he is also envious of your confidence and unaffected demeanor when you fall flat on your face in public. People fall all the time. So, if someone messes up your or his order when getting food, you call the waitress back so they may make the necessary corrections.
-
You met for the first time in college. You could say you were popular, but it was more about how kind you were and how many friends you had. You were well-known, but not everyone knew who you were or wished to be like you. So you were sitting in chemistry as the "popular" girl next to the "quiet" guy (it's always the quiet ones). "Woah, that's such a cool mask!"
"Oh, uh, thanks."
"Did you make it yourself or get it from somewhere?"
“It’s just prosthetic." He didn't want to give into too much information since he didn't want to scare you away too quickly. He was surprised you didn't ask him what the mask was for; that hadn't come up in a long time.
-
You've been dating for a few months but have only known each other for around a year."Don't you want to know why I am wearing this?"
"I mean, yeah, I've always wondered, but you haven't seemed at ease talking about why you wear it or what happened, but I think you'll tell me when you're ready."
It took him some time. He removed his mask totally about five months into the relationship. He was stunning. You couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair and kiss him like you'd wanted to for so long. His lips were surprisingly soft. Larry and Ash are the only people who have seen his face (his father is irrelevant). You're now staring at him in awe. "I knew you'd look lovely, but I really underestimated myself." He drew you back into the embrace. It was brimming with passion, love, hunger, and lust.
-
You feel like it was harder not to kiss him. Consider how many times he's wanted to pull off the mask and make out with you, but he couldn't be too concerned about how you'd scream in fright or slap him for leading you on for so long just to be mortified under his mask. He was well aware that they were ridiculous ideas.
-
It was dark and rainy outside, and he had planned to take you out to a nice meal. You had your hair done perfectly, your makeup was simple, highlighting your best features, and you wore a dress that accentuated all of your curves as well as a pair of sneakers to look attractive while remaining comfortable. He was driving with his headlights on, barely able to see due to the heavy rain. "Holy shit, Sal! Stop the car, Sal!" He pushed on the brakes, forcing himself forward as you jumped out of the car. A cat was frozen in front of the car; it was dark, wet, and shivering. You cloaked it in a hoodie.
Your hair was a mess, and what you thought was smear-proof mascara was running down your cheeks. "We don't have to go if you don't want us to."
“No no, I'll just put my hair up and clean my make-up." You walked into the restaurant, garnering strange looks as if you'd been living on the street. "sal table for two?"
The night finished with you leaving markings all over him and him biting into your neck, which was okay because you were willing to wear anything that claimed you as his.
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sugarlywhispers · 1 year ago
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Yk that lava girl fix you made? I thought about how she can cover herself in lava..what if rain and water hurt her?
During fighting a super evil villain with bakugou (they're married) he starts speeding out rain and it injured her badly turning parts of her skin that was touched into sort of obsidian?
✨️these are really good questions that made me think of them for a few days so i could imagine the actual answers~
This is mostly what I took as inspiration for Y/N in this drabble:
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Her body elevates in temperature to the point were you can see the lava running through her body, and her hair becomes complete lava, long locks or stings of lava she can use as weapon to capture things or villains (if the villain is something like those monsters of metal–she is not that heartless to burn people alive, even if they are villains).
Because she is basivally lava, the general answer is yes, Y/N can't fight in her lava form when it's raining. It actually hurts when her body transforms into obsidian–which is hard rock. I imagine that she becomes really good at fighting in her normal-human body so when this type of weather comes, she actually doesn't need to use her lava–if it's not for forming some kind of refugee or it's actually useful to help other heroes and civilians. She just stays on the helping civilians and rescue team during that kind of weather.
But I also imagined the first time Bakugou saw Y/N become obsidian because a villain threw water at her. He almost lost it when he heard your painful scream as you suddenly became rock. Like a statue, figure laying on the floor, hugging yourself in fetal position because of the pain. And nothing but simple rock.
He saw red. He went on a rampage, vengeance mode, so ready to tear and break and kill, that Deku and Red Riot had to interfere.
The villain was sent to the hospital, with custody of course. And Dynamight... he fell to his knees by your side, tears streaming down his face, body trembling with adrenaline and pain. You have told him water was your weakness, but he had never imagined it to this point. He didn't know it could kill you. He could have been more conscious, more careful of what villains crossed your path. He could have done so many things. He could–
The rock that surrounds you starts to break, the sound making everyone at the scene gasp as it moves. Bakugou doesn't understand what's happening...until it finally breaks completely and you emerge, taking a deep, long breath, in your normal form.
He watches you with big, wet eyes, almost not believing what he's seeing, as you say, "Fuck! Well that fucking hurt..."
People around start to clap and laugh because you're so... you.
And Bakugou feels... like he can breathe again. Like all that pain he felt seconds ago just dissipates in the air like the smoke that came from the rock breaking and making you born again, like a Phoenix rebirth from its ashes, so beautiful and so majestic.
He looks down and sobs, which immediately alerts the rest of the heroes and they start to pull everybody away from the scene.
"Oh, baby, I'm okay..." your arms surround his neck and he instantly reacts, hugging you back and hidding his face in your chest and neck.
Least to say, that image, Dynamight kneeling on the ground crying, with his wife comforting him, were the talk of the month. And what actually gave him the stop of Number One Pro Hero on the list for almost six months, until Deku beat him again with some other bullshit he did. But at this point, no one is concerned about the spots on that list. Dynamight and Deku go up and down between the first and second place all the time.
That is, until Y/N finally gets her breakthrough and wins first place for almost 5 years in a row.
And Bakugou can't shup up about how awesome his wife is.
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spectres-n-soap · 8 months ago
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A Spectre Remembers - Soap x You x Ghost
Content Warnings - Afab Reader, she/her pronouns are used in this chapter but no description of the reader is used, MW3 is canon :(, This is all Ghost POV this time, grief, religion mentioned,
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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Ghost remembers the day you joined the task force, he could never forget it. You held yourself well, a woman that knew who she was and what she wanted. He watched you, that itch at the back of his head feeling like a rash now. It burned, begged to be eased and only got worse after the disaster that was Las Almas. The paranoia that haunted him from the day he pulled himself from the grave. Ghost watched the way you acted around others, when you trained and during debriefs. So when you started sitting closer to Soap, Ghost noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Soap touched you the way he did with him. Told the same awful jokes and dragged Ghost by the arm to hang out with you too.
"Oh." You had looked at Ghost, met his gaze before moving over to make room for him on the couch. "You should warn me next time Soap." You chastised him.
And that was it. You didn't receive him with open arms but you made room for him. Carved out a space for him alongside Johnny. Included him with the banter and he would have been a fool to think that the mission in Siberia hadn't changed something. Like something had clicked into place for you. He wasn't a fool. At least not completely because he had been there that night. Ghost stood in the dark hallway, on his way to get a drink of water and he heard you say it.
"I love you."
He had never retreated so fast back to his room since he was child. Not since he father roamed the halls of the house late at night, drunk, high and looking for any reason to unleash his anger.
Ghost remembers the day they returned without him. Without Johnny. His gloves were stained with blood, his hands trembled anytime they weren't holding something and his ears rang from that gunshot. His blood had turned into ice the moment he laid eyes on him. He had rushed over and pressed two fingers to his pulse, nothing but he kept checking. Over and over and over again. He couldn't hear anything, he looked down at Johnny and felt something twist, a knife in his heart. Two knives in his heart, they twisted and devastated him. He reached to feel for his pulse again but Price put a hand on his shoulder. When had they stopped the bombs?
"He's gone Simon."
And fuck if that didn't shatter him. He didn't cry, he wasn't sure if he could but his eyes stung and breathing became harder. Then he was staring at you, standing in the rain as Price spoke. "Soap is KIA." He couldn't look away from you. From the devastation that painted your features and he couldn't block away your pleas. He couldn't move to be the one who moved your hand from your throat.
"Captain." Your voice cracked, "Captain please." You buckled and he couldn't move to be the one who held you up. Ghost stood there as you cried into Gaz, sobbed until you gagged. Price had to be the one who finally broke him from his trance. He had laid awake that night, instead of being haunted by the usual demons he was haunted by you. By the way you had just collapsed, a woman who had carried herself with such strength that he was sure you'd never buckle under the weight of the sky if you had to trade places with Atlas.
You didn't come to the funeral they held for him in the highlands. He wanted to be angry. He really wanted to be and he stood outside your door ready to knock, ready to demand answers why you couldn't have been there for his final send off. For your Johnny's final send off. His hand was raised to knock when Gaz passed by him, "She's not in there mate. She's off giving Soap's family his ashes."
Ghost didn't stay around the base that night. At least Price had gotten everyone a few weeks of bereavement so he could leave when he needed to. And he really needed to right now. It hadn't been more than 8 hours and he was already back at the spot. Night had settled in and the highlands were alive with the sound of crickets, hooting owls and the rustle of grass.
Ghost was not a religious man. Never believed in a God that never stepped in to stop his father from beating his mum. Never stepped in to stop Tommy from getting hooked on drugs and never stepped in to stop them from being butchered. Ghost didn't know any prayers, he had accepted that God had abandoned him but he got on his knees anyways. He got on his knees, clasped his hands together and raised them to his forehead. And he begged. He begged God that night for answers, for direction, for a bloody reason.
Of course he got no answer. At least not at first. What was it that a woman once told him? "God works in mysterious ways." He had believed that to be a load of bloody rubbish.
Yet.
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"The doctor thinks stress has put more risk with the pregnancy. Did something happen yesterday? Something upsetting Mr. Riley?" The nurse asked and to her credit, she didn't seem intimidated by him. Something upsetting? He had never seen you snap like that. He looked back to you, your eyebrows pinched together and his shoulders tense.
"Yeah, something like that." He muttered.
The nurse makes a noise at the back of her throat and tries to cover it up with a cough. Ghost doesn't blame her, he didn't exactly make it sound good. Left it vague. At least you hadn't hurt yourself. The thought sent shivers down his spine.
When he had received the call from the hospital that you had been admitted into their care, his blood ran cold. It felt like that day all over again, everything faded and his mind filled with assumptions. Each worse than the last.
You were hurt. The baby was hurt. Both of you were hurt. Someone broke in. Someone hurt you.
He had launched from bed after demanding the address before saying that he would be there in 20 minutes. He didn't care that it was a 40 minute drive, his car was any faster it would have been ten.
You don't look at him. You looked at the IV in your arm, at the tape that kept the IV in place and makes your skin itch, you looked at the walls covered in basic medical posters, you look at the blanket. Anywhere but him. Your name left his lips and you clenched your fists. "Please look at me." He asks, his voice on the edge of a crack. "Please.
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gingerlee-holds · 4 months ago
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I feel bad for popping a request in ☠ anyway
If you're feeling up to it, perhaps ler Todoroki x lee Reader (bc me and reader insert are inseparable /j) from MHA? Length, perhaps 900+ words if possible? But I'll be grateful for anything haha, I also don't want to force you to write more if you're not feeling inspired i'm gonna be honest here I haven't watched MHA in a long time ☠ and I have no idea what scenarios would be realistic because he's,, Todoroki,,
Personally i'm a sucker for evil/more intense tickles because I wish I was ticklish but if that makes you uncomfy do feel free to ignore :)
oh hush, you!!! i love requests, so thank you so so much!! i just hope this is somewhat what you wanted heehee- enjoy!!! i have a huge crush on this dork so that creeps in- also the reader's quirk is whatever you want it to be, cuz its not mentioned- also also!! im really really sorry if i fuck the names up cuz from what i know of the show, Todoroki is the family name, so Shoto is the given name but i could be totally wrong
i just wanna say that i really really like writing the rambly bits from Shoto about the book-
the reader is sorta a brat lol
Like Poetry
Words: 2,334 Pairing: Ler!Shoto, Lee!Reader Warnings: lotta fluff!!! not proofread!!!
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You groaned as you entered the common room. Mr. Aizawa’s personal training was brutal today, and you were not looking forward to feeling how sore your muscles would be tomorrow morning. Sighing, you grabbed one of Sato’s cupcakes from the counter and flopped onto the sofa, confident it would be unoccupied. It was about seven in the evening on a Friday, which meant everyone was either in their rooms or somewhere around town. 
You huffed into the mattress before gasping at the sound of a page being turned. Looking up, you saw you were about a foot away from, in your mind, the strongest student in your class. He was sitting with perfect posture, reading a book with yellowed pages. On the coffee table sat a mug filled with tea.
Shoto Todoroki didn’t look up from his book at you. If he knew you were there, he didn’t show it. He silently read, seemingly fully absorbed. You sat upright, shaking off the embarrassment of almost landing on him, of all people. 
You cleared your throat and gobbled up your cupcake in one bite, setting the wrapper down next to his tea. Still, he didn’t move. Raising an eyebrow, you poked him in the side to get his attention, and the surprised gasp he gave made you giggle. Shoto looked at you, brow furrowed in annoyance, but his face soon softened when you smiled and waved.
“Hi!” you said chipperly. 
He nodded politely in return. “Hello, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”
With a chuckle, you shoved his shoulder. “No worries! Whatcha reading, bookworm?”
Shoto tilted his head. “I’m not a worm.”
You sighed and repeated your question without the tease. You loved that your classmate was so adorably literal. 
“I’m reading this book of old poetry. I don’t remember where I got it - it feels like my family’s always had it lying around. I decided to read it today since everyone’s out.” His voice was calm as he spoke.
You were somewhat interested in the subject but mostly just wanted to hear him talk some more. It was so rare that he spoke. “Anything good in there?”
“I found this one that I liked,” Shoto said before flipping back a few pages. “Rain on lemongrass. / Ash trees weep o’er their lost sun: / Their light and love, gone.”
The poem made you hum in thought. “What’s it about?”
“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asked. Taken on its face, it was an insulting question, but you knew Shoto was genuinely unsure whether to explain it. You shook your head in reply. “The poem is about heartbreak. A woman falls in love with someone, and suddenly, that person has to leave. The woman feels like she has nothing left as she cries into a world that has bigger concerns than her. Soon, perhaps, her love shall return, the sun re-emerging from the clouds, but there’s also the possibility that she doesn’t last until then, and the wind blows her over. Ash trees symbolize grief, so perhaps they may never meet again. The lemongrass, evoking a cheerful memory, is smothered under the rains that hide her beloved.” Suddenly, he looked up from the page. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was rambling.”
You scratched your head. “How did you get all that from just three lines?” You didn’t mind, of course. He was cute when he rambled. To your great surprise, he let out a soft and sheepish smile. 
“Well, I suppose I have too much time on my hands,” he said, looking away. You smirked and poked his side again, giggling at his surprised reaction. Shoto let out a muffled yelp and jumped, glaring at you suspiciously and rubbing his side. “Quit that.” 
“Sorry, Icy-hot! Can’t be helped!” You held up both your hands in mock surrender.
“Hm,” Shoto mumbled, looking back to the book. “This book was written entirely by hand. See? This character is slightly different here, here, and here,” he continued, pointing at different parts of the page. “And from what I can tell, its publication predates quirks, hence why they are not mentioned. If they had quirks, you would think there’d be a suggestion of their existence, no? Yet there’s nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seems like this book is a remnant of a simpler world.” His expression looked distant as if his mind were a hundred miles and years away. 
You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head. “Sounds dorky. Maybe you should tell Deku! I’m sure he’d be all too interested,” you chuckled, then looked over. If he heard your comment, he gave no sign. He must still be lost in thought. Looking down at his side, you saw it was perfectly exposed. You were pushing your luck. Then again, what is a hero if not someone who tries their luck? You pursed your lips together and quickly extended your hand to poke Shoto’s side again. 
But he was faster. As if expecting your reckless act, he set his book down and grabbed your hand before it made contact in one fluid movement. “You don’t listen, do you?”
“I do my utmost to avoid doing that, yes,” you said, giggling nervously. His grip was firm, giving you no delusions of escape. His hand was chilly, as if Shoto was threatening to encase your whole arm in ice at any moment. You tugged slightly.
He didn’t let go. “No, you need to learn this lesson.” Somehow, that was among the scariest things you’ve ever heard, right alongside the speech of the hero killer and Mr. Aizawa announcing an extra homework assignment before the summer break. Shoto pushed your legs toward the end of the couch, pinning you to his chest with both hands held behind you. You shuddered as Shoto said, “Now, learn well.”
Since both your hands were stuck behind you against his torso, you couldn’t defend yourself whatsoever when he descended both hands onto your stomach. You erupted into bright, bubbly laughter and kicked your feet like that would do anything to help. All that went through your head was repeated, ‘Oh, fuck, that tickles!’ 
You heard Shoto’s hum of approval from behind you as he clawed his fingers over the thin fabric of your shirt. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. 
“ShIhihihihIt! ShohOhOHohotoHoHoho!” You shook your head and thrashed all you could, but it didn’t matter. Shoto was stronger, and he would make sure you knew it. 
“Yes, Y/N?” he asked casually.
“STohohoHOAhaap!!” It didn’t have a chance of working, but it didn’t hurt to try.
“No.” Shoto’s clawed hands squeezed around your stomach in circles, taking a moment to dwell on your extra-ticklish lower stomach, which he took delight in exploiting. If you didn’t know any better, you would even say he enjoyed it as much as you were. 
“NohOHoHOhoHT TheheHEherre!” you pleaded helplessly, throwing your head back to give your torturer the best puppy eyes you could… although they were far less effective than you had hoped since they were quickly squeezed shut in uproarious laughter. 
“Here? Right here, yes?” Shoto released a flurry of pokes on your lower stomach as if he wanted confirmation.
You nodded and hiccupped, doing all you could to contain the blush that bloomed on your face at the sound of his cooing hum. Mercifully, he gave you a break, and you panted for breath against him. “Shihihitt…” you giggled, squirming in his grasp to get the ghost tickles off your tummy. 
“Here,” Shoto said, and you turned to see he was holding up his mug for you. Gratefully, you took a big sip of the refreshing tea, smiling a little at the warmth of it. It was strangely sweet; you had expected Shoto to only like the bitter teas, but surprisingly, the flavor was somewhat sugary. As if reading your mind, Shoto said, “It’s chamomile. It helps me relax.” He took the mug from your mouth and set it back on the table. 
Shoto cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, “Have you learned your lesson?”
“Is my release dependent on how I answer that?”
“Yes.”
“Then… Never!” You madly giggled as you attempted to escape his grasp before quickly regretting it. He had you suitably pinned, and to further reinforce his lesson, you realized with terror that he was rolling up your shirt to your ribs. “Wait, Shoto-!”
Your tormentor didn’t give you time to finish. Without fanfare, his hands descended onto your exposed tummy. Instead of clawing around, as he had done before, he was using quick scribbles, which, coupled with his cold fingers on your bare skin, was maddening. 
“SHohOhoHOTO!” You had no idea you were so ticklish! By the looks of things, it seemed like he had been in tickle fights before, and from how badly he was wrecking you, he was used to winning them. 
He hummed in thought as your thrashing weakened. “Your belly button is incredibly ticklish,” he observed. It was, to your dismay, very accurate. It didn’t help that his cold finger was heightening the feeling!
“PLehEHehEHHEase! MeheHEheheercyy!” you squealed out, kicking and bucking like a horse.
“Goodness, you’re dramatic. It’s only tickling, Y/N. If anything, this should build your endurance. What if the League captured you? I doubt you’d last a minute before you spill everything you know if they knew this weakness of yours.”
Why did he have to be so monotone with his teasing? He sounded so casual as if he were still explaining the history of that old book - only he was speaking over your hysterical cackling. He was a fast learner, too: he was pretty adept at locating the spots that got an especially wild reaction out of you and cruel in punishing them.
Shoto’s fingers increased in pace while always keeping one wiggling about in your navel. “I know,” he said, “I get it; you’re very, very ticklish. Now calm down.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He was having fun! “I wonder… you’ve inspired me to write my own poetry! Let’s see…” He paused to think, unfortunately not slowing down the tickles, making you yelp and shriek. “Ticklish cutie / Squealing on the couch with glee / With a cute tummy,” he slowly said as if writing it down. With a gasp, you felt him do just that, writing down the poem on your belly with the tip of his fingernail. 
You turned beet-red as you threw your head back, your laughter turning silent. You had long since begun crying with delight, and tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers, but he didn’t stop until you started coughing. With a chuckle, he released you, and you panted for breath. You didn’t move from his lap, and Shoto didn’t seem to mind. He gently placed a hand on your forehead, tilting it toward him. 
“Are you alright?” he asked gently. You nodded with a smile, which he returned. His smile was inviting, like a sunbeam on a winter’s day. He slowly helped you sit back up and handed you his mug again. You eagerly gulped it down. The tea was warm and sweet, and when you finished it and set it back on the table, you realized that Shoto wasn’t too different. 
“Thank you, Shoto,” you said softly.
“For the tea?”
“Yes,” you replied, “and… for the tickles. It… helped me unwind.” You looked away and rubbed your neck shyly. 
“You’re welcome, Y/N. It was fun for me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.” He smiled again, a small treat like candy. “It’s nice to see you so carefree. You’re usually a ball of nerves,” Shoto admitted bluntly, making you sigh and nod in agreement. 
You basked in the silence for a bit before both of you suddenly looked up. That was the unmistakable sound of… And right on cue, the word ‘mumble’ began to figuratively float across your field of view. At its origin, you and Shoto saw Izuku madly scribbling in his notebook and mumbling about something. You swore you caught the words “ticklish,” “stomach,” and “squeals.” 
Behind Izuku, standing in the hallway, were Ochaco, Denki, Tsuyu, Mina, Eijiro, and Kyoka. The first two desperately attempted to quiet Izuku, to no avail. You sat bolt upright, glaring at the unwelcome audience. 
Eijiro broke the silence with a playful swat to the back of Izuku’s head. “You got us caught with your nerd shit, Deku,” he joked, making the green-haired hero look away backfully. 
“That was adorable!” Mina grinned, pointing at you. “You made a bunch of noise, so we wanted to check it out!” 
“You’d better erase what you wrote, Deku.” You spoke calmly but in a way that gave no misapprehensions about your seriousness. 
Ochaco looked over Izuku’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like he’s gonna do that.”
“Midoriya,” Shoto spoke up. “Be sure to write that they couldn’t use their quirk while being tickled.”
You gasped at the betrayal. “Don’t you fucking dare write that, Deku!”
With a glance, Denki, Kyoka, and Tsuyu replied simultaneously, “Oh, he’s already writing it.”
With a growl, you shot from the couch. “You’re fucking dead, Deku!” Your classmates yelped with shock and ran down the hall from you, stifling their giggles. 
Eijiro, egging you on, tossed back over his shoulder a snide, “Now you’re sounding like Katsuki!”
“Oh, I’ll make Katsuki look like a fucking bag of pop rocks when I’m done with you idiots!” Your threat carried no heat since it was filled with giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation, smiling fondly at how much you loved your friends.
And behind you, on the couch, Shoto grinned with pride as he picked up his book to continue reading. He was glad he had been allowed to be so affectionate with someone for a chance. Absent-mindedly, he picked up his mug of tea for a sip but sighed disappointingly at the lack of tea inside. Maybe he needed bigger mugs. 
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momolady · 1 year ago
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Placide the Paralangua
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The festival of Ash is fast approaching. but before the excitement can build, there is lots of planning in order to prepare. Few humans are selected for the festival, but there is another handful that get to work closely with the Paralangua elders in order to plan and prepare the great event.
Female Reader x Male Monster (both cis)
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It had been a remarkably cold winter, marked by occasional snow flurries which were a rarity for your neck of the wood. You were used to a chill in the air, maybe some cold rain or ice, but this year felt different. It was as if a shift occurred somewhere in the fall and a wind of change had swept through the trees.
It did not stop your work though, and even through the holidays you worked on coordinating the Festival of Ash that would be happening in the spring. For the past few years now, you’d been hired as the main event coordinator for the yearly festival. All your life you had attended it, so it was an honor to be given this opportunity. This also allowed you a rare access to the paralangua elders in order to receive their input on the festivities.
You’re able to work from home and have set up an office in one of your spare rooms, but you’ll often have meetings with the paralangua that take place elsewhere. Usually you meet with a singular elder each time.
This year, your baby cousin, Lucie, had returned home and the two of you have been hanging out a lot. This year, she is one of the chosen for the Festival of Ash and she will be paired with one of the paralangua during the ritual.
“I’m so nervous,” she said. “I’ve heard so many different stories, I’m not quite sure which one to believe in.”
You had your back turned to her as she talked, fixing you both a cup of hot chai.
“You work with them, right?” She asked.
You smiled back at her. “I do. The elders vary, but they’ve all been very kind.” You took the steaming cups and set them on the coffee table. “It’s strange working with them after being told all our lives that they are a mysterious lot. But really, they're just like anyone else.
“But they’re giant albino lizards,” Lucie laughed.
“Gators,” you corrected. “And they’re quite beautiful to look at.”
Lucie picked up a cup. “You think so? I’m still not sure what to think. It makes me nervous picturing myself being…being with one of them.” Her cheeks blossomed into a bright pink and she kept her eyes casted away.
You chuckled. “Especially since it will be your first time. I can understand how that would make you nervous. But reportedly, they are excellent lovers.”
She fidgeted in her seat. “How big are they?”
“Well, considering most of them make me feel short, I’d say they’re very tall,” you laughed.
“No, I mean-” Lucie took a sip of her chai. “How big are they?”
You glanced at her with surprise. “Oh. Well, that’s one part of them I’m not familiar with. I usually don’t get that intimate while planning the festival.”
“I’ve looked online and I don’t know if I could possibly take anything bigger than a breadstick.” She held a shivering, terrified look in her eyes. “I sometimes wish I’d never been chosen.”
A spike of pain went through your chest.
“You get to have sex whenever you want, you can marry or date anyone you want. I’m twenty-one and still haven’t kissed a guy. All because I’m a stupid chosen.” She set her cup down forcefully.
“Careful.” You pulled her cup back. “And don’t say it’s stupid. You’ve been given a wonderful gift. And the paralangua who fights for you in the labyrinth is going to be yours for the rest of your life. They’re going to love you and adore you.”
“But it’s scary,” Lucie whispered.
You reached out and took hold of her hand. “You’re the lucky one here, Lucie. I understand you’re nervous, but trust me. Once you meet them, you’ll understand all the stories we heard as kids.”
Lucie pouted and sighed. “I hope so.”
“Besides, the dating pool these days is murky. I’m not that lucky,” you chuckled. “Have you seen the state of dating apps?”
Lucie’s smile returned. “Yeah, that’s true.”
The following afternoon you had a meeting with one of the elders. You drove to the castle on the hill and were greeted by him at the door. You were pleased to see it was Placide, your favorite elder to deal with.
Placide opened your car door for you. “Good morning. Another cold one, isn’t it?”
You gathered your things then took his offered hand to stand. “They’re calling for a snowstorm this weekend, can you believe it?”
He scoffed and rolled his dark, red eyes. “I will believe it when I see it. But the way the weather has been this winter, I would not be surprised.”
Placide made you feel petite in stature. He was so tall and broad it was intimidating. But he had a way about him that made you forget that. Unlike some of the other elders, he talked to you on your level, he got personal with you. It was easy to talk to him, which is why you enjoyed working with him. Not to mention his deep, buttery voice made your knees weak.
“I just hope the cold doesn’t linger in spring. I would hate for the labyrinth and the waters to remain cold, especially for our chosen this year.” Placide said as you walked inside and towards the dining hall.
“My cousin is one of the chosen this year, and she’s nervous enough about it as it is.” In the dining room you set your things upon the table, taking out your planner and laptop, both of which you felt were even less suited to the grand room than you.
Placide came up behind you and pulled out your chair. “Well, for her sake I hope the weather warms up.”
“Thank you.” You sit down and open your planner to the notes you had thought out last night. “She’s been asking me all sorts of questions about it. But I’m not quite sure how to answer her.” You ducked your head down and your smile remained sad. “I was never chosen as a child.”
Placide tilted his head up slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
You shook your head. “Oh, it’s nothing now.” You opened your laptop a bit too forcefully. “What about you? Did you ever battle in the labyrinth?”
He chuckled. “Yes, I did. But it was a long time ago.” A distant look came into his eyes and he avoided gazing at you.
“Any advice you’d give to my cousin? She’s nervous about, you know, her first time and all-” You stop. “Oh god, that’s horribly inappropriate, isn’t it? Ignore me! That’s weird! I’m so sorry, Mr. Placide.”
He chuckled. “Just call me Placide, honey. And no worries. I was terrified the first time my victory and I were…you know.”
Your eyes pinched. “Victory?”
Placide’s smile became soft. “That’s what we call one another. Not exactly brides or grooms, are we? But we’re victories to one another. We fought hard to reach one another within the labyrinth; each coupling, each poly group that forms is a victory.”
“That’s really romantic. I didn’t know that part.”
Placide’s eyes cast aside again. “My victory, Carine was her name, she used to say that our first night together was equal parts awkward and sweet. As long as you can laugh together at things, you can conquer most obstacles in each others’ embrace.” He lifted his head up. “She used to love coming to the festival and talking to all the young ones going into the labyrinth. It was her favorite part every year.”
“Does she not do it anymore?” You asked cautiously.
Placide sighed. “I’m sure she does, in spirit at least.”
You felt completely awful. You brought this all up, and now you were having him talk about his deceased wife! You’re a monster, you thought to yourself.
“I’m so sorry,” you tried to smooth things over.
He shook his head. “I like talking about her. I didn’t have her as long, so the more I can talk about her the better that makes me feel.” He smiled. “But we do have business to attend to. So tell me, how goes it with the vendors?”
“Uhm-” You tap at your laptop to get it to turn back on. “So far, so good. A lot of locals are still willing to donate food to be served. And uhm-” You drop your planner onto the ground and reach down to get it. “There’s a lot of crafters this year who applied so-” Your head hit the bottom of the stone table with a loud thud that echoed through the door.
“Honey, are you okay?” Placide jumped up from his chair and came towards you.
You held the back of your head with one hand, while gripping tight onto your planner with the other. “I’ll be okay.”
Placide moved your hand aside to look. His hand felt so cold against the injured part of your head, it was nice.
“Do you feel tired at all?” Placide asked.
“I’m just embarrassed.”
Placide looked into your eyes, gazing really for what felt like the longest time. “I’m just making sure you don’t have a concussion.”
“I have a notoriously thick skull.” You tried to laugh but you were more nervous than you realized. Having Placide this close was doing some damage on the girly side of your heart. “Seriously, I was on a bike once as a kid and went right through the fence. Not a scratch on my head, and I went head first.”
Placide pulled his hand back and there was a touch of blood on his fingertips.
“That’s yours?” You asked.
Placide’s brow raised. “You’re hurt. Let me take you to Adele, she’ll be able to assess things better than I. Give me your hand, honey.”
He takes hold of your hand, then wraps his arm around your waist as you stand. For a moment, you thought this could be the cover of a romance novel.
“I’m fine, really!”
“I’m not risking it,” Placide said with a stern tone. “I’d hate myself if I sent you home and you drove your car into a wall or something.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” You stopped when you saw the sharp look in his eye. “I’m joking. I’m joking!”
Placide led you further into the castle than you had ever been before. You passed by some paralangua and humans, all of whom seemed curious by your being there.
Placide knocked on a door with a golden plaque upon it. The plaque swung aside and bright pink eyes started out. “Placide, what the hell do you want?”
“This is our event planner,” he said. “She hit her head upon the table and now she’s bleeding a bit.”
“From where?” Adele snipped.
“The back of her head.” Placide sounded confused.
Adele closed the plaque and opened the door. “Oh, good. If it was her eyes or nose or something, that’d be bad. Just wait out here, Placide. I’ll get her looked at.” She closed the door behind you.
Adele was another one of the elders you liked to work with. She wasn’t flowery like the others, she was direct and liked asking questions that helped you sort things out.
“So you hit your head?” Adele had you sit down then pushed up your hair to examine. “I hate that stone table. I feel like laying on it like that lion in those kids books. How are you feeling, girl?”
“Like I hit my head.”
“Oh, good. I would have been concerned had you said you felt like you hit your knee.” She pushed your hair over the top of your head and wrapped some gauze around it to keep it out of the way.
“Is everything okay?” You asked.
“I’m just going to clean up this cut back here and keep you talking. I don’t think anything is wrong, but Placide overreacts to these sorts of things.”
“I told him I had a thick skull,” you murmured.
Adele dabbed something onto the cut that burned and stung; it made you kick your legs.
“Hold still.” She blotted at the cut with a bandage. “Yup, ole Placide is going to worry over you now.”
“Why?”
Adele let out a heavy sigh. “He was never quite right after Carine died. They were both so young, and trauma does things to a person.”
Your stomach sunk with how sad that was. “Oh.”
“I think you’ll live though. But if you start feeling any sort of way, you go to a hospital.” She said, helping you to stand up. She took off the gauze holding your hair up. “And be careful of that cut back there. It’s not awful, but getting shampoo into it will be.” She opened the door and Placide stood alert then relaxed when he saw you.
“Is everything okay?” He asked.
“Should be, the girl has a pretty thick skull, so she’ll survive long enough to have regrets.” Adele shut the door behind her without another word.
Placide still looked at you with concern.
You offered him a bright smile, hoping to reassure him. “I’m fine really. Let's finish our meeting.”
“Are you sure?” He walked along beside you. “You don’t have to continue if you don’t feel like it. I would gladly reschedule.”
“I’m fine, I can get through this meeting.”
He nodded. “If you’re sure. I’m sorry if my worrying comes off as annoying.”
You shook your head. “Adele told me about Carine, I understand why you do worry.”
Placide’s gaze faded into something pitiful. “I don’t like seeing people I care about in pain,” he said simply. “But I suppose that’s anybody.”
Your heart fluttered as if it had wings. “Anybody worth their salt, anyways.” You placed your hand upon his thick arm. “Thank you.”
He smiled and nodded. “I’ve grown fond of our meetings. Being an elder, things tend to get stuffy. I enjoy your company because it makes me feel-” He hesitated. “Well, it’s a highlight of my week when I get to see you.”
He needs to stop or I am going to allow this crush to progress further than it needs, you think to yourself.
You leaned in closer to him. “Don’t tell any of the other elders, but you’re my favorite.” You gave him a wink and he laughed. “The others feel so serious all of the time.”
Placide pulled out your chair for you again. “They’re still part of the age where this is all ritual, pomp, and purpose. They don’t see the fun in it like the younger generation does.”
You smirk at him. “Do you not consider yourself part of that generation?”
His smile grew. “How young do you think I am?”
“Hard to tell,” you smiled shyly up at him. “But considering you're an elder I would say you’re older than me, but younger than the elders you work with.”
Placide chuckled. “Well, you’re partly right. Paralangua don’t age like humans, so would it surprise you if I told you I was fifty?”
You stared for a moment, slowly easing back in your chair. “You’re not.”
“I am,” he laughed. “Is that really so hard to believe?”
“What’s your skincare routine?”
Placide laughed loudly and graced you with a big grin. “Having thick scales.”
You clicked your tongue and shook your head. “Damn. And here I am bragging about my skull.”
“This is why I enjoy our meetings.” Placide’s smile softens. “You always make my day brighter like this.”
He needs to stop or you’ll catch feelings, you thought.
“You too.” You say this then immediately open up the planner in hopes of covering up the sentimentality floating all around. “Vendors!”
“Yes, vendors,” he chuckled. “Last year we had that lady who made the flower crowns. I was hoping we could get her to do some ornate ones for the chosen group this year.”
You nodded and smiled. “I had that idea too and already brought it up with her.”
“Another reason I like you so much. You already have all the good ideas.”
Your cheeks flushed and you returned to discussing business as usual. As the meeting ended, the back of your head was pretty sore, so you were planning on putting a bag of frozen peas on it when you got home.
“Let me walk you out.” Placide took your bag and carried it for you. “How are you feeling?”
You put your hand on the back of your head. “There’s a knot for sure. But I have a bag of peas in my freezer that’ll take care of me tonight.”
Placide opened the door for you. “I may be stepping out of bounds, but I could come by and bring you dinner tonight so you wouldn’t have to worry. I feel responsible.”
Your stomach flipped. “Oh, no, no,  it’s okay really! It’s not your fault I hit my head. You don’t have to.”
His smile was gentle as he looked at you. “What if I just wanted to bring you dinner?”
Your stomach flipped again. “I mean…I like food.” You hated yourself and tried to recoup. “You don’t have to really! I’ll be fine, you don’t need to go out of your way. But if you wanted to-” You trailed off, unsure where to go.
“I want to,” he said. He opened your car door for you. “What time would be best?”
“Five, I suppose.” You still were still a bit confused. “I’m the one that hit my head though. You don’t need to worry.”
“It’s not just that. I want to see you, outside of this castle and not have to talk about the festival. I want to see you and only you.”
Not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair, the words ran through your mind. “You can’t say things like that, Placide, and expect a girl to stay okay for the rest of the day.”
Placide chuckled and kissed your forehead. “To feel better.”
Not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair!
“Drive home slowly. Just in case.” Placide handed you your bag. “And I will see you at five.”
“Thank you.” You weren’t sure what to say, and that probably wasn’t the correct answer. You sat in your car for a second, watching as Placide went back towards the door. He turned and waved at you, making your heart spike into your throat.
“Okay then…it’s a date,” you murmured in disbelief.
==================================
The first Festival of Ash you could remember attending, was the one where you were taken to see if you’d be one of the chosen. At the time, your town was small and there weren’t very many kids your age. It had been very likely at the time you were going to be chosen. The ceremony progressed as normal, but you weren’t selected.
All your friends had been chosen, and they talked about it all the time. You smiled and nodded along, congratulating them on how lucky they were. But of course, you were lucky too. You could date anyone you wanted. Sure. You could. Time went by, and by your twenty-first birthday you had placed yourself on the other side of the world, away from home, and away from the Festival of Ash that year, the year your friends would no longer be chosen, and instead be with their paralangua in the labyrinth.
It didn’t bother you, you could date whoever you wanted. It really didn’t bother you.
What did bother you was that your hair looked greasy and awful, but Adele had warned you about washing your hair while you had that injury at the back of your head.
“Oh sure, I have to injure myself like this.” You fussed with your hair, trying to style it one way and then another. But absolutely nothing looked good to you.
You tapped your forehead where Placide had kissed you. “Don’t get your hopes up. That never works out.” You put on an old, favorite beanie to cover the greasy hair as well as put extra protection around the bump growing from the back of your head.
“Just act cool. You can do that at least.” You strolled out into your living room and sat down upon the sofa. “Nonchalant. Casual. Cool,” you repeated the words to yourself. You picked up the remote to turn the TV on. But then the panic set in of having to select something to watch, so if Placide came at that moment, you could have something interesting on. Whatever you had on would be a reflection of yourself, an intimate peek into your daily life, the way your mind worked.
True crime documentary? No. Too creepy.
Something based on Jane Austen? No. Too desperate.
Maybe a video game walk through? No! Too corny.
Music? No! Your music is weird!
There was a knock on the door and you placed your remote down gently. No harm, no foul. You got up and went to the door, peeking on your video doorbell who was there. It was Placide, dressed in a very dapper wool coat and carrying a bag in each hand.
“Crap, he looks nice. And I look like an off the hours goth girl.” You calmed yourself. It didn’t matter. This was going to be a nice visit.
You opened the door and smiled. “Welcome! Glad you found the place okay.”
Placide stepped in and you offered to take one of the bags. “You have a beautiful house. I was surprised.”
You furrowed your brow. “You were?”
“I mean-” Placide cleared his throat. “I was expecting something much smaller. You said you lived alone, right?”
“This is my family’s ancient stomping grounds. I inherited it from my grandmother. The kitchen is this way.” You led him down the hall. “During the wedding season I rent it out for extra money.”
“That’s not a bad idea. It’d be a perfect place.” Placide stepped into the kitchen and looked around. He shed his heavy coat and hung it aside. “It’s so cold out. I’m glad your house is warm.”
“Surprisingly good heating system for an old house, right? Do you need helping with anything?” You asked.
“I just need to heat a few things up.” He set some wrapped dishes down on the table. “How are you feeling, by the way?”
You touched your hat and shrugged. “Hurt and embarrassed still.”
“Don’t be. Embarrassed that is. But is the pain bad?”
You shook your head. “Only if I touch it. And here, this is the stove.” You stepped aside to let him near it.
It did feel a bit awkward, but you couldn’t tell if it was all just you, or if maybe Placide was feeling it too.
“It’s odd, I’ve never talked to you outside of being an elder,” you chuckled. “I’m not sure how to quite…go about it.”
Placide’s tail twitched upon the hardwood floor and slightly perked up. “Just treat me like any other man you’d have in your home.”
“Not had that much experience there either,” you muttered under your breath.
Placide put the dishes into the stove. “Although, I am a bit shy myself. After Carine, there weren’t many women who piqued my interest.”
“I piqued you?” You wanted to hit your head again.
Placide chuckled. “I enjoy talking to you. Our last event planner used the same things every single year. But the past few years you’ve worked with us the Festival of Ash has changed and grown, it feels like it did when I was a young man again.”
“I would argue you’re still young.” You cleared your throat and glance aside. “I just know the festival is important for us. Not just the paralangua or the chosen. But everyone here knows it’s special.”
Placide’s smile is soft, but it was the way his eyes graze over you. There's confidence there, as well as a nervous vulnerability. “It’ll take a minute for the food to warm up. Maybe we should sit down.”
“Oh sure, here is fine. Or the sofa might be comfier for you.” You stepped towards the doorway, leading him back to the living room. He took a seat, curling his tail around his waist so it curled over his thigh and draped down.
You sat on the ottoman, a bit too anxious to sit on the sofa with him.
“You said your cousin was chosen. How is she looking forward to it?” Placide asked.
You shrugged. “Somedays she’s excited, other days she’s nervous. When I was growing up, most of my friends had gotten chosen too. I used to be so jealous of them.”
Placide tilted his head to the side. “Did it ever bother you?”
You swallowed. “Sometimes. I mean, I was happy for them. It was such a great honor and all. I got to see them get excited and nervous too.” You bit down on your lip. You sighed and shook your head. “There weren’t a lot of families here back then. Our group was small. So I felt left out a bit sometimes.”
“I’m sorry that happened, honey.” Placide’s smile was gentle as he looked at you.
“It’s fine really,” you tried to laugh. “I figured there was another purpose for me so-” You shrugged and brought a knee up to your chest. “I’m not worried about it anymore. What about you though? How was the labyrinth for you?”
“It was so long ago,” he chuckled. “I just remember all the build up and the adrenaline. The fighting was worse back then too, like you said, there were lesser people here long ago. So at the time I really had to fight my way through all the others my age.” He pulled up a sleeve and showed a scar on his arm that hindered the pattern of his scales.
“Back then, the ceremony didn’t really start until everyone had their stitches complete.” He offered out his arm towards you.
You touched his arm and ran your fingers up the scar, feeling how cool and smooth his scales were. “It was that brutal back then, huh?”
“Extremely.” Placide held your eyes for a moment then he sat up and pulled his sleeve back down. “There weren't enough humans to go around, and all of us wanted our own victory so badly.”
You wanted to ask more, but you felt that was prying too deep.
“I think everyone wants to feel like they’re being fought for in one way or another. I think that's why being chosen is so sought after. You want to feel like someone, anyone, wants you.”
You catch yourself in a nod then clear your throat. “It is nice.”
“I know romance is hard these days. But I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why don’t you come and sit beside me? I’m cold blooded and any extra warmth helps.”
Your cheeks warmed and you moved from the ottoman to the sofa, sitting near Placide and feeling more anxious than before. “It's a nice sofa. My grandmother bought it before she died, so it’s new-ish.”
“I see,” Placide chuckled. “It is nice.”
His hand was alone and vulnerable beside him. It was placed strangely though, almost like a piece of candy before a trap. You placed your hand upon the sofa, inching it towards his until your fingers brushed against his hand. His hand moved and then it was touching yours. You looked away as your hands touched then held one another.
“Do the paralangua allow this?” You asked out of nerves.
“It’s not exactly tradition. But it’s allowed.” He moved in close to you. “Although I do feel a bit strange. It’s been a long time and I like you.”
You leaned into his side. “I like you too.”
He chuckled. “Good. Or else this would be much more awkward than I feel.”
You laughed too and for a moment things were quiet. The two of you sat there, holding hands, and then a warmth seemed to grow between you.You shifted, facing one another again, and Placide’s mouth opened.
“Oh no, my spinach puffs!” Placide stood and held out his hand again. “The food should be ready now.”
Dinner was delicious, you ate more than you expected. But it was the conversation that came afterwards that you enjoyed most. You and Placide talked over coffee about little things. It grew from there as you talked about music, your love for punk and his surprising confession of playing guitar when he was young. From there, the night felt natural and time slipped away until you noticed the wall clock.
“I can’t believe it’s one already.”
Placide double checked it and laughed. “I had no idea! I thought it was still so early. Perhaps I should go.”
“Sorry I kept you so long. I’ll wash your dishes and bring them back later.” You rose to show him to the door, but he didn’t move. He remained sitting at the table with a stern look upon his face.
“Is everything okay?” You asked.
He sighed. “I want to kiss you, but I’m afraid of what will happen when I do.”
You licked your lips. “Nothing has to happen. It can just be a kiss.”
Placide stood and approached you. “I can promise you, it won’t be. So if we kiss, you’ll have to promise me you won’t let me get away with anything.”
It was just suggestive enough for you to enjoy it, and just a little cute. “You’re making me the responsible adult here?”
“If you can try to be.” Placide’s hand rested upon your waist. “One of us needs to think clearly.”
His hand brushed against your cheek, the smooth scales and dark claws made you shiver. “Should we pull straws for it?”
Placide bent down and there it was, the kiss. You were taken back for a second, almost watching down at yourself while it happened. But you returned to the present, pressing closer and closer to him as the kiss deepened. You held onto him as a moan rumbled in his chest.
Placide was the one to pull back and his hands both rested upon your waist, holding you tightly so you didn’t come closer or move farther away.
“See…” You cleared your throat. “You did well.”
“But I could sink deeper,” he growled against your ear. “I feel it. It’s an old desire but I know it.”
You smoothed your hand down his chest. “But-”
“Yes, but.” Placide released you. “We both mentioned it has been a long while. We shouldn’t let want override our own needs.”
“Right.We have lots of time anyways.” You handed him his coat.
“You would think so, but even from where I stand, time doesn’t matter. It only moves forward, and it can pull us under that current.” He slipped on his coat. “So that is why I’d like to know when I can see you again.”
You lost your breath for a beat. “I’m free tomorrow?”
Placide smiled. “Tomorrow then.”
For the next few weeks, you and Placide met regularly. Nothing more than kissing happened, but there were moments where it felt like something more would happen. But you stopped each time, agreeing to wait and make sure it was right.
One evening, you woke up on the sofa lying on Placide’s chest. The TV had gone back to the main menu, and it was the only light on. You laid your head back down, resting it upon his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Placide murmured.
His voice started you and made you jump. “What?”
“I felt you stir,” he whispered. “And I almost called you Carine.”
You sat up, seeing his eyes were still closed tight. “I was half awake,” he said.
“I understand. It's okay.”
Placide sat up and sniffled. “But I’m with you. I know that. I care for you deeply, more and more each day. And it was so long ago.”
“How long?” You asked. “I’ve wanted to know, but I’ve been too afraid to ask.”
Placide breathed in and let it out slowly. “I had her for ten years, and then she was gone. Then another ten years went by, and then another.” Tears filled his eyes. “Somedays it feels like yesterday.”
You held his hand tight. “I know.”
“She made me promise not to give up. That I was too good to not share.” He smiled sadly. “I feel like I’ve let her down.”
You cupped your hand around his face. “Do you really think that?”
His red eyes turned to yours. “I think it. But I know she wouldn’t.”
You kissed him then rested your head upon his shoulder. “Then stop it.”
His hands rubbed up and down your back. “I’ll try. I promise.” He lifted your head and kissed you again. Once again there was that unspoken desire between you. This kiss could go either way, all you had to do was decide.
“I want you,” Placide growled.
You panicked. “That’s nice.”
He laughed and held you tight in his arms. “If it wasn’t so cold out, I’d take you into the labyrinthe right now.”
“Why there?”
He sighed and cupped his hands around your face. “To make you feel like a victory. I know it bothers you, and I was hoping I could wait and make myself behave until spring. But the more time I spend with you, the more I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to be with you. I think like I’m young again, and I keep driving myself crazy.”
You bit your lip to contain your smile. “Have you touched yourself thinking about me?” You said with a teasing tone.
Placide grunted and averted his eyes.
“If you want to wait until spring, we can. I would like to see it for myself and have you win me over.” You kissed his neck and cheek. “If you can wait. I will too.”
Placide’s hands tightened around your hips and he fidgeted his lap. “I’m not sure I can. Right now I feel…frustrated.”
“Maybe I can just help with that.” You laid a palm in his lap.
“Wait-” His voice choked and he captured your wrist in his hand.
You kissed him, pressing up against his chest and easing him back down upon the sofa. You sat back up, tugging off your sweater and his eyes bulged. You kissed down his chest, the smooth, plate scales felt cool to your lips, but you were growing warmer and warmer with each second.
“Tell me about the labyrinthe.” You say as you straddle his lap again.
“Uhm-” He breathed in deep. “It’s beautiful. Lots of lush moss and vines. It goes deeper than most people think.”
You dip down, kissing his belly as he talks. Your fingers find a mound between his legs that’s begun to open and dribble out a viscous ooze.
“There’s places to swim, but it’s the underground lake that’s my favorite.” He whimpered and his hips bucked.
Your fingers were inside and bit by bit he revealed himself. The top was ruby red, and compared to the rest of his pale body it stood out. Even more so, the size of him was prodigious. The thick base of his cock was baby pink and when it was fully released it laid against his stomach.
“May I?” You asked, sliding yourself down to be between his legs.
“Please, keep going.” Placide gently cupped the back of your head, careful as there was still a tenderness there. You kissed along the shaft, dragging your tongue up to the tip. The slippery ooze that covered him was slightly sweet and barely unpleasant. You brought him to your lips, kissing down the side and feeling his pulse twitch.
Placide gulped and tried to breathe. “I would…I would take you to that lake in the labyrinthe and lay you there upon the moss. You would…you would know how badly I wanted you, how much of a prize you really are.”
Pausing, you tried to decide what to do. You sat up, removing the rest of your clothes and Placide placed his hands upon you. He kissed you and nipped your skin, burying his face against your soft form  until you sat upon his lap.
“Don’t move,” he growled into your ear. “I can feel you…so warm and wet.” His claws sunk into your back. “Don’t move or I’ll take you right here. Right now.”
His cock pressed against your mound. As you breathed, your body moved and rubbed against him.
“I want it,” Placide panted.
“Me too.” You looked into his eyes. “I can’t wait for spring when you’re right here. Show me the labyrinthe when it’s warm. But you’ve won me now.”
Tears were in his eyes. “I won’t waste this. I promise.” He adjusted himself, moving so that he could be inside you. You let out a long, strangled sound then buried your face upon his shoulder.
Placide turned so that his feet were off the sofa and you we leaned into him. He arched his hips, pressing deeper inside you. He held you up just a bit to pull out but he was deep within a second later.
“So warm,” he whimpered.
“So big,” you whined back.
Placide swallowed and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m trying to control myself. You’re not helping things.”
“Don’t hold back. I want it.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Go ahead, do what you want with me.”
He shook his head. “I want to but-”
You kissed him, pressing your palms down upon his shoulders so he pressed into the sofa. You rode him, taking what you wanted if only to let him know you were ready for anything he could give.
“Oh god, honey-” he growled.
“Stop waiting and just-” You saw nothing but a blur before you and you were on the floor. Placide was on top of you and lifting your legs up before he pressed deep inside you again. It was another blur again mixed with snarls and grunts into your ear. He pressed himself into you, giving you everything he had.
A bright light woke you from your dreams. And while your bedroom was dark, the sharp, white light that reflected from your window was a thick blanket of sparkling snow. You rested back into your pillow with a deep sigh. You then felt arms around you, and kisses upon your neck.
“Good morning,” Placide whispered.
Your body remembered all at once his ferocity last night and you felt a shiver crawl down your spine. “G-good morning!”
Placide chuckled. “It was nice having this warm body last night. When it snows like this all I want to do is cuddle.”
“I almost thought I dreamed last night.”
“I went a little too hard, I’ll be gentle next time, promise.” He kissed your cheek and wrapped his body around you.
“Tell me again about the labyrinthe.” You say as you stroke your hands down his body. “What will you do to me there?”
Placide growled. “What I won’t do to earn my victory. Lay back, I’ll show you.”
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