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ozzgin · 5 months

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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader

I've been plagued by this idea for a while, so let me know what you think! This is just the character introduction. Your new landlord is a Yakuza boss, and his scary looking underling has been tasked to deal with your tenant needs! Although he didn't expect you to be this cute. And you didn't expect him to be this unhinged.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Content: Female reader, violence, mentions of stalking

This was the last straw.

You're angrily stuffing your suitcase with necessities before the moving company arrives. Each glimpse around the cramped apartment fills you with outrage, as you're still heavily shaken from the events of last night.

You first begun to suspect you might have a stalker when you found your outer lock with a fresh dent in it. You then picked a small scrap from the ground nearby and assumed it was leftover damage, but upon further inspection you discovered, disgusted, that it was part of your peephole. Someone must've fiddled with your door a fair amount. You tried to approach your immediate neighbors for help, but they either refused to answer your persistent knocks or downright scurried away when faced with your questions. They didn't want to deal with a foreigner.

You tried to put it behind you. The police advised you to be cautions, as there was nothing else they could do without concrete evidence. And thankfully, you had several peaceful weeks following the incident. Last night you were suddenly awakened by faint scratches coming from your balcony. You groggily got up and wondered if your recently added bird feeder was attracting nocturnal visitors. You got up without turning on the light, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious animal. As you pulled the drape, however, you were met with the large frame of a man plucking your laundry in a hurry.

A panicked scream erupted from the depths of your chest and you slapped the light switch, erratically searching for your phone. By the time you dialed emergency, the intruder had vanished. You were sobbing against the wall under the fake reassurances of the operator, eyeing the sliding door that had no lock. Had he wished, the masked man could've easily invited himself in. You were at the mercy of a lunatic and no one seemed to be impressed by your situation.

No more. Ideally you'd go back to your home country and forget about your plans to build yourself a life in Japan. What were you even thinking? A lonely girl, low on funds, signing a contract to be relocated across the ocean for work. You barely scraped the first months of a mandatory year.

You close your suitcase with a satisfying click and on your way out you wipe the table of all the newspaper clippings. You've been scanning the potential offers on the market. The ones within your budget, of course, which means you don't have to worry about being picky. Until you find a new place, your belongings can wait in storage. Dusty furniture is a better prospect than waking up with a pervert looming over you.

By the time the clock hits evening hours, you're sipping on your iced coffee with a defeated sigh. Most of the cheap apartments seem to be given to locals. Not outsiders like you. At least they spared you of the false hopes and curtly told you to not expect any call back, so you can swiftly move on to the next circled address. You pull out the crumbled sheet of paper from your pocket. Reading over your list of crossed out lines like this deflates you greatly. At the very bottom lies your final hope: the ad you'd stumbled upon this morning was too good to be true and the realtor was available for viewing at any time, so you're almost certain it's some sort of scam. Yet you can't afford to skip it, can you? You stand up, pat your jeans and take a deep breath in.

As you check your phone to confirm the location, you begin to doubt your decision. It's hard to believe no other potential renters have showed up. The apartment is in a convenient area, very close to public transport, at a great price, on what looks like a busy street. Isn't it the dream? So why? You glance around, examining the surroundings. The shops are bustling with people. You try to come up with possible explanations, when a deep voice startles you.

"You must be (Y/N), right? You sure are easy to spot."

You turn around to greet the person. Although the second you spot him, you take an unconscious step back. You'd expected a middle aged man dressed in formal attire with a shy bow and clumsy movements. The one standing before you resembles none of that. He's imposingly tall, with a muscular built and slicked back hair. You can discern the tattoos peeking out from under the rolled up sleeves. His face has multiple deep scars and you can only assume that the pale, discolored eye that's transfixed in one direction is a fake made of glass. One might call him handsome, if you're into the kind of appearance you see in documentaries about the mafia.

"Y-you're the landlord?" You stutter, immediately covering your mouth and regretting your lack of tact.

"Nuh uh, Boss sent me to deal with it." He flashes you a genuine grin, completely unperturbed by your offhanded implication. "I'm Daitou."

He continues towards the entrance and you follow behind, too awkward to back down now. He describes the living quarters with surprising enthusiasm. If you were to close your eyes and disregard his heavy Kansai accent, you could very well be convinced it's a professional real estate agent hard at work.

"Excuse me for asking, but..." Once he finishes his marketing presentation, you cannot help the increasing anxiety. "What's the catch?"

"Huh?"

"For something like this to be so cheap...and no one else being interested...may I be frank and ask what's wrong with it? Please understand, I just left my previous apartment because of a stalker. I don't want to be packing again anytime soon."

"Well, isn't it obvious?" He searches your gaze for a moment, before gasping as if remembering something. "Wait, you're a foreigner, so I guess you don't know. Ah, that explains it."

He lets out a hearty laugh, satisfied with his conclusion.

"You didn't notice anything strange outside?"

You ponder his question before slowly shaking your head in denial.

"Really? A bunch of heavily tattooed guys with family pins on their suits...This is a yakuza quarter. Our Family owns most businesses here. But lately we've had a lot of police on our backs, ya know? Bound to happen when the street is swarming with us. So Boss had this great idea - he's smart like that, ya know, I've never been the bright one - anyways, he suggested we rent some of our housing to regular civilians. Less suspicious that way."

He crosses his arms and nods to himself proudly.

"I myself think it's a great deal. You won't find anything cheaper for the kind of stuff you're getting. All you have to do is, you know, mind your business. If some weasel questions you, no Sir, you haven't seen or heard anything suspicious. That's all."

You can only stare wide eyed, somewhat taken aback by his honesty.

"Uh...Are you sure you were supposed to tell me all of this? I feel we're skipping some steps before admitting to organized crime."

Now it's his turn to consider your inquiry.

"Probably not, but I'm not good with words. You look like a smart girl, so I thought I won't sugarcoat it. I'm sure you already know that if you leave and rat us out I'll be throwing your chopped up remains in the nearby river. Or would you want to be shipped home instead? I'm a nice guy like that, hehe."

You return a crooked smile and purse your lips in the process. You'd rather not learn the percentage of truth in his humor anytime soon.

"You mentioned a stalker? I can guarantee you he won't follow here, miss. And if he's that dumb to wander on our turf, well, me and my guys always hang around the block. Leave him to me and I'll bring you his teeth in a box."

"I-...Why teeth of all the things?"

"Just easier to pull out, ya know." He winks and reaches for his back pocket, revealing an old pair of pliers with childish delight. "See, I'm a bit of a handyman, so I always have some tools on me."

Strangely enough, you're not as terrified as you would expect from someone in your shoes. Certainly your knees are weaker when compared to your pre-encounter state, but there's something about his demeanor that doesn't feel malicious or threatening. Like conversing with an old friend at a pub.

"Will I truly not get in trouble? You guys do your thing and I'm 100% not involved?"

"You have my word." And with that, as if closing the sale of his lifetime, he confidently slaps a stack of papers on the nearby counter and hands you a pen. "You already have my number, if anyone pisses you off just hit me up and I'll be at your service. Boss left everything to me."

No perverts and less of your monthly allowance going towards rent. Maybe it's your despair talking, but you've been persuaded nonetheless. You scribble your name in the designated field and shove the documents towards your new acquaintance.

"Pleasure doing business with you, miss (Y/N)." He cheerfully dangles the keys before dropping them in your hand and heads for the door.

"Oh, is shipping included in the rent?"

He stops and turns to you, mildly confused.

"You said if I mess up you'll ship my remains home. Do I pay for the postage myself, or is that part of the monthly tax?" You ask with a cheeky grin.

His eyes narrow in delight and you can tell he's greatly amused by your words.

"Nah, consider it a gift from me. Gotta treat a lady nice, 'specially if it's a pretty one like you."

And with that, you're alone again. You look around the room, trying to visualize your new home. It's already getting dark outside. Now that you've had the situation explained to you, you can definitely see what Daitou meant. There's the occasional police officer patrolling the street, and plenty of men dressed in similar fashion walking in small groups.

"And?"

Outside the building, a young man is leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his mouth. He seems to have been waiting for Daitou.

"It's done. Some cute foreigner is moving in." He lifts an arm in a flexing motion, patting his bicep in a congratulatory manner. "Boss will be surprised, eh?"

"You're fucking with me."

"What? You wanna go back upstairs and check?" He responds, appalled. "Might've taken longer than expected, but I told ya I can manage!"

"Are you sure you didn't threaten her or something? I still don't know what Boss was thinking when he asked a nutcase like you to deal with the civvies."

"Hey hey hey, I may not be all fancy speaking like you or Kazuya, but I'm not dumb. Matter of fact, she already signed the papers."

"I never said you're dumb. Just batshit crazy." The young man sighs and flicks his cigarette butt away, stomping on it.

"Let's go and tell the others."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #female reader #yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #original work #oc x reader #male yandere x reader #x reader

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wheeboo · 4 months

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01:10am | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which your cuddly boyfriend interrupts your late night reading time. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. a lil suggestive, reader is smaller than cheol, lil makeout kissing sesh oops, terms of endearment, cheol is whipped, self-indulgent fr WORD COUNT. 1.1k

notes: i just have this thing for soft cuddly bed scenes w cheol :(

Seungcheol really doesn't know why that out of all other times of the day, you choose to read during the depths of the night.

But he's not at all complaining𑁋he's blessed with this grand view of you with your headphones on as you're sitting up against the frame of the bed behind, knees almost propped up to your chest, with a tiny, dim book light attached to the bridge of your book highlighting your face. Seungcheol thinks this might be one of his new favourite views of you.

He flips himself over to face your direction, opening an eye so he could quietly watch you. Seungcheol takes a moment to appreciate the cute, subtle details of your face when you're focused𑁋the way your eyelashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks, the steady rise and fall of your chest, and the way your lips occasionally move, silently forming the words you're reading. The only sounds in the room he can hear are the rustling of you turning the page, the distant murmur of the city outside, and the faint music escaping from your headphones.

Letting out a yawn, he takes a moment to check the time on his phone, eyes widening to see how late it was. Yet when he turns back to you, he only pauses, because you seem too immersed in the book to be able to go to sleep right now, and he really doesn't want to disturb you.

"Baby?" he calls out to you softly, yet you don't hear him as expected, only furrowing up a brow at what Seungcheol could assume was you reading a peculiar scene in your book. He feels his shoulders deflate.

Instead, with a huffed breath, he can only take to sinking back within the bedsheets and hoping that you'd fall asleep after him.

But he can't fall asleep, no matter how much tossing and turning he does, since it's almost outrageous to his mind to the thought of him falling asleep without at least holding you in his arms like he always does.

Seungcheol turns himself over once more, a pout at his lips as he scoots closer towards you, yet you still don't seem to notice him. He contemplates for a moment, glancing down at your free hand at your side, and a thought crosses his mind. Slowly, he grabs your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together, and the action is just so natural and instinctive like a missing puzzle piece fitting perfectly into place.

He glances at you, noticing the slight smile that tugs at the corners of your lips as you continue reading. It isn't until he starts drawing circles on your palm and picking at your sleeve that finally grabs your attention, and you pick your head up to look at him, slipping your headphones off.

You watch the way he continues playing with your hand𑁋from drawing shapes on it, tracing the creases on your palm, to running a finger over your knuckles𑁋like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"Cheol, what are you doing?" You ask bemusedly, attempting to pull your hand away but he just tugs it back.

"Hmm, missing you," he coos softly, adjusting your hands so that your flat palms are touching each other. The fact that the size of your hand is perfectly smaller than his is utterly adorable. "Your hand is small, you know?"

You roll your eyes, as if annoyed. "And yours is huge. We've been over this already."

"It's cute." He locks your fingers together again, tilting his head slightly to look at you. "You're cute."

You only click your tongue, biting back the smile to your face and the heat threatening up your neck as you bring your attention back to your book.

You release your hand from his. "Let me go read𑁋"

But before you can go back to reading, you feel a pair of arms wrap around and pull you into a tight embrace, knocking the book off your lap. A surprised gasp flies out of you, and in one swift motion, Seungcheol flips you both over so that he's now hovering over you. Your book is long forgotten on the floor as you stare up at him in surprise, the dim light casting a soft glow on both your faces.

Something catches in your throat as you lock eyes with him. If you listen closely, his breathing is just as unstable as your heartbeat, like he's breathless already. His dark gaze seems to hold a silent request, glancing between your eyes and your mouth. It bares a question that doesn't need words, and you answer with a small nod.

And with that, he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. It's soft, tender like always, and it doesn't take much for your body to go all limp below his as it deepens. He presses his weight against you carefully, making sure you're comfortable beneath him.

You feel the way he trails his fingers along your arm until he reaches your hand once again. With a deliberate move, he laces your fingers together before bringing your hand up to pin it gently against the pillow behind your head.

Seungcheol breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

"Okay?" he asks, voice a low murmur.

You nod, even though your heart is more than ready to burst out of your chest at any given moment. "Okay."

His eyes only soften, the smile to his face widening, a couple of shy giggles escaping your mouths together and into the thick air surrounding you both. He captures your lips once again in another sweet, lingering kiss, before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"So pretty," Seungcheol whispers against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. He starts peppering feather-light kisses along your jawline, his hand gentle on your waist as he revels in the simple joy of holding you close. You lightly run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingertips.

"Why are you being so... so touchy right now?" You tease impishly, sighing contentedly at his touch, feeling the soft vibrations of his laughter against your cheek.

"I dunno," he admits simply, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "You were reading too much."

"I was only reading for, like, an hour. That's not that long."

"An hour too long," he counters sulkily, pressing a soft peck to the tip of your nose. "I can't fall asleep without you."

You let out a playful scoff, running your fingertips up the exposed skin of his back ridden up from the black hoodie he wore. "You're such a big baby, Cheol."

Seungcheol leans down so his mouth is just a breath away, and before you could register it, he's rolling over once again so that you're on top of him this time, his hands coming to rest firmly at your hips. There's a smirk to his face that you can hardly see, yet you already know what he's thinking.

"Only for you."

"For... me?"

"Just for you," he murmurs against your lips. "I'm all yours."

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msgexymunson · 4 months

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The Code

Description: Your very first day at your new school and you've already managed to find a dealer. Not only that, but he is fine. Maybe living with your mom might not be too bad after all.

Warnings: Making out, fingering, male and fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex

A/N: I just wanted some desperate, clingy ‘I need you’ sex so here we are. I loved writing this so much I think this is going to end up in a whole universe just about these two.

6.2k words

Masterlist

This must be the spot.

You walk out into the little clearing in the woods. It's private, encircled by trees, with a picnic bench right in the middle. As you wonder who the hell put it there, you take in the quiet. It's bizarre; a minute ago you were surrounded by loudmouth jocks and giggling girls, sneakers squeaking and lockers slamming, but here? Silence, except for the twittering of birds and whispering wind in the trees.

Perching on the slightly mildewed table top, you dump your bag and jacket on the seat, crossing your legs and picking your fingernails to pass the time.

A rustle of leaves makes you snap your head up, and you see who must be the most gorgeous guy at this school. Tall, long hair, a narrow little waist you want to wrap your legs around, and judging by his clothes, he's a metalhead too.

“Hey, you leave me a note?”

He looks around nervously, circling the table before walking over to you.

“Yeah, you OK?”

He smiles, and you rethink your previous statement. He must be the most gorgeous guy in this whole town. Such a pretty mouth.

“Sorry, it's just last time I got an anonymous note in my locker I got jumped by four jocks.”

“Oh, well you know what they say, when a boy bullies you they really just have a crush on you.”

He laughs, tipping his head back.

“Well these guys must want my fuckin’ babies or some shit!”

Giggling, you look down, covering your mouth girlishly. Eddie takes the small opportunity to check you out. You look like you've wandered in from a dream. A very wet dream. Little black Mary Janes on your feet, thigh high white socks, and a black and white plaid skirt. The strip of thigh on show is making his pants tighter by the minute. The white t-shirt is a work of art; it seems so innocent, but it's tight enough to accentuate your obvious curves, and the outline of a black bra is peeking through the thin material. He's sure it's purposeful; who wears black under white and doesn't think about it showing?

You clear your throat and his eyes flick upward to your face guiltily. Not saying anything, you let your little smug smile and raised brow do the talking for you. This looks like it's going to be a lot of fun.

After a few seconds of letting him squirm, mostly to see the blush flowing to his cheeks, you give him your name and explain.

“I'm new here, some girl told me you're the one to go to for weed. Eddie, right?”

“Guilty as charged,” he replies, bowing at you. Rolling your eyes, you beckon him forward with one finger. His grin widens as he stands right in front of you, eyes darting to your lips and back up.

“So, you got something for me?”

Eddie plants his hands either side of you on the table, close enough to smell your perfume. It's heady, laden with spice and promise, not the sweet scent he expected. That just intrigues him even more.

Your heads spinning from him crowding your space. His eyes are otherworldly, deep brown, full of such depth and soul that it takes a moment for you to remember to breathe.

“For you? Of course.”

He winks, he fucking winks, sending a swarm of insects in a whirlwind in your stomach, then sits down at the bench, slamming a battered tin lunchbox down. He gestures at the seat in front but you swivel on the table to face him, legs crossed an inch or so away from his hand.

“So, I'll do you a half ounce for… twenty. Cool?”

He wags a baggy at you and you make a pass for it, but he holds it at arm's length.

“Twenty?”

Huffing dramatically, you lean far back to grab your bag from the opposite bench. Eddie holds an arm out, one thrown over his eyes.

“Cover your, er, modesty sweetheart.”

You realise he means your skirt that had ridden high on your thighs, exposing a triangle of your panties. It was only for a moment, but he saw. He thinks it'll be ingrained on the inside of his eyelids, burned into the back of his brain forever. They're baby pink, yet another surprise. You seem to be full of them.

“Such a gentleman.”

Plopping your bag in your lap, you rummage through it to find a note. Eddie's eyes widen yet again. Your little denim backpack is covered in patches; Megadeath, Anthrax, Saxon. Just when he thinks he's got you figured out, you throw another curveball at him.

“Here, twenty.”

He takes it and exchanges it for the bag in his hands. Squirrelling it away, you smile.

“Thank you. Fancy a smoke?”

“Sure, why not.”

You move to get your newest purchase out again but he waves a hand.

“This one's on me sweetheart. For the er, pleasure of your company.”

“Well, aren't I lucky.” Smirking at him, revelling in the pink tinge on the apples of his cheeks, you watch whilst he rolls.

“So, you're new? When did you start?”

“Today. Moving in with my mom and my brother for a little while whilst my dad cools off.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, licking the paper with a pointed precise tongue.

“Yeah. I got suspended, he freaked. Mom wanted her little girl back, so here I am.”

“Oh really? What did you do?”

You bite your lip as he passes you the lit joint, and take a couple of hits.

“What didn't I do?”

He laughs loudly with you, eyes darting to your chest as it jiggles. Fuck, he's already down bad.

You make some chit chat, surface level stuff, but it shows you just how easy he is to talk to. He's confident, bordering cocky, but it's belied by the way your flirtatious comments make him blush.

The joint is long gone. Eddie stands up, getting ready to leave. You want him to stay, you need him to, just a little longer. It emboldens you, enough to make a move.

“Eddie, what's your policy on kissing clients?”

He's mid standing when your question gets through to his brain, entirely short circuiting it for a second.

“Huh?”

“I said,” you beckon, and Eddie's legs move on their own accord, “what's your policy on kissing clients?”

He's grinning then, standing in front of you by the edge of the table. As you uncross your legs, his smile only widens, slotting his narrow hips between your thighs. You take one of his hands in yours, examining his rings, before you place it gently on your leg, silently giving him permission to touch you.

Eddie feels dazed, half expecting someone to jump from the bushes with a camera, declaring this all some elaborate prank. The bare skin of your thigh is so soft, silky smooth. His fingers dance just underneath the hem of your skirt, testing the waters, but you let him. You let him.

“My policy? It probably goes against the Holy drug dealers code.” He shakes his head sadly, but he's still smiling, and still not pulling away.

“Drug dealer code? What like, don't get high on your own supply?” You respond cheekily, nodding at the butt of the joint stubbed out on the table.

Your hands snake around his neck autonomously, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves infinitesimally closer, head bending a little.

“Yeah, like that. But the thing is,” he says as he moves even closer, whispering, “it's more like… guidelines.”

“Yeah?”

It's all you can manage out, breathy and weak, practically quivering at his closeness.

His nose rubs against the side of yours, mouths almost brushing, as he whispers again, even more quietly, the breath of it diffusing over your parted lips.

“It's a good thing I like to break the rules.”

Then his lips are crushed against yours, your strawberry lip balm surrendering itself, finding a new home on his full lips. Your tongue licks into his mouth thickly, laced with want. Eddie responds, exploring your mouth as the kiss turns dirtier by the second. Your chest is smashed against his, thighs gripping onto his hips.

Eddie's head is reeling at the taste of you and the feel of your body desperately pressed against him. He winds his hand under your skirt to grab your perfect round ass, jamming you even closer. To his delight you moan in his mouth, lips sliding against his, slicked in spit.

Your heart is thumping so loudly you can feel it in your throat. Or is it his? It doesn't matter, the kiss tearing any rational thoughts away. Snaking an arm around him to dig painted nails into his back, you roll your hips into him, an ache settling into your bones.

The other of Eddie's rough hands travels audaciously to your chest, palming it over your clothes. You don't pull away, in fact your back is arching, searching for more.

It's only then that he notices the time on his watch.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, taking in the way your chest heaves, how your eyes are half lidded, as if you want to devour him whole.

“Fuck, I'm sorry but I'm late, I really gotta go.”

Huffing, you pout, and the plumpness of your bottom lip almost makes him say fuck it, screw Hellfire, but he knows he can't.

“I really, really don't want to go, for the record. Last thing I want to do is walk back into school with a hard on right now.”

You giggle breathlessly, risking a little look down. He's not lying. And he is packing.

“Do you wanna come to mine later?”

It's out of your mouth before you even think of the words, tongue working of its own accord.

“Are you- for real?”

You nod comically fast. He just shakes his head, stunned.

“You know, I'm waiting for a Carrie moment or some shit.”

“Eddie, I'm not gonna dump a bucket of pig's blood on you, I swear.”

“Swear? On what?”

“On, I dunno, on that code thing?”

He laughs, hands rubbing up and down your sides as if he doesn't want to let you go.

“You can't swear on that, we just broke it!”

“Alright then, scouts honour?”

“You were a girl scout?”

“No.”

He laughs again as you purse your lips, deep in thought. Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you hold your hand to your heart, the other forming the devil's horn sign.

“I swear on Ozzy.”

Fuck, Eddie thinks he must have made you in a lab.

“Alright, alright, you best not be using his name in vain.”

You rummage in your bag, grabbing a scrap of paper and scrawling an address on it.

“Here. My er, my mom's out for the weekend and my dweeb brothers got some silly club thing then he's staying at a friend's, so…”

Eddie's eyebrows raise and disappear into his hair. If this is just some fantasy and he's finally lost it, then he can deal with that.

“Right, I will be there. I promise. Wild fuckin’ horses couldn't drag me away.”

You scrunch the paper into his waiting hand, and he presses another kiss to your lips, before he's apologising again, having to run back to school before the guys send a search party.

********************

He only gets a chance to look at your hastily written note when Hellfires finished, a hell of a lot quicker than his usual sessions. The guys are put out, complaining about only managing to go for a supply run and deal with some bandits, but for once he doesn't give a shit.

In his van, he's reading and rereading your note. Maybe he's got it wrong, your messy handwriting is difficult to read after all. Or maybe he was right before and this is all some joke at his expense.

Hope is what gets him there, that and the traces of strawberry lip balm that still linger on his lips. He pulls up to the house and knocks on the door.

You answer, still in your clothes from earlier, though Eddie notices immediately that you've taken off your bra. It throws him for a moment, the shape of your nipples singing a melody directly to his dick, but he recovers.

“You live… here?” He asks, completely surprised.

“Yes?” The way he says it you almost question if you're the one in the wrong house.

“And your last name is…?”

“Henderson.”

“Fuck.” He laughs it out, biting his lip.

“Is that a problem?” You're entirely thrown by his reaction, but gesture at him to come in, closing the door behind him.

“Dustin’s your little brother.” He says it like a known fact.

“How do you know Dust for Brains? Wait-”

You step backwards, both hands held to your mouth in shock.

“You're Eddie?? The Eddie??”

“The one and only, sweetheart.”

“Shit, Dustin does not shut up about you. I thought, well I thought you'd be some nerdy, awkward loser.”

“Well, I'm a lot of things.”

Laughs erupt from you in an unstoppable volcano.

“Dustins gonna kill me.”

Eddie shakes his head.

“No, Dustins gonna kill me. How come he's never mentioned you?”

“He's not exactly my biggest fan. Plus, he probably wanted to avoid- this.”

Eddie deflates a little, the hope of kissing you again dwindling by the second.

“If you want me to go-”

“Oh hell no,” you grab his hand, keeping him there with you, “this is hilarious, he's gonna freak. I can't wait. You wanna drink, or something to eat? Or we can just-”

“Wait, you seriously don't care?”

“Nope. You're too hot.”

Eddie blushes, not used to girls being so brazen with him. Smiling, you tell him to take a seat and grab some beers from the fridge. He takes his jacket off and throws it on a chair. When you return, you're laughing yet again as you hand him his beer.

“How the hell did I miss that?” You point. He follows your eyes, to the Hellfire t-shirt he's wearing.

“Too busy staring at my pretty face?” He suggests, winking at you.

Settling down next to him, you flick the TV on to some random b movie. Nonchalantly, you place a hand on his knee, stroking the little bare patch of skin as you look at the film playing.

“Maybe I was too busy thinking about what's underneath it.”

You say it offhand, a casual statement, but it's got Eddie nearly choking on his mouthful of beer.

“Shit you are nothing like your brother, are you?”

Turning to smirk at him, you respond, “I fucking well hope so.”

Then Eddie's thoughts fly straight out the window when your hand lands on his chest, nails raking him through the fabric. Suddenly, the temperature of the room is stifling, or is it just the feel of your body against his? He reaches tentatively to cup your cheek, rubbing a calloused thumb on your chin, eyes boring into yours for confirmation. Breath hitches in your throat; you lean in closer, gaze flickering to his perfect mouth and back up.

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me, Eddie?”

You smirk, but it's wiped from your face immediately by his mouth smashing into yours. It's so forceful you have to fight to keep upright, hand fisting into his shirt as some sort of anchor.

As you pull away, his eyes widen, wondering if he did something wrong. He looks like a little puppy.

“Easy Eddie, we've got all night.”

All night? Eddie has decided that he must have got hit on the head today. Maybe he was jumped after all, and now he's in a coma, playing out some elaborate fantasy.

He settles back into the cushions, swigging his beer and failing to focus on the movie playing, his leg restlessly bouncing.

You look perfectly at ease, knees curled up on the seat. What he doesn't know is that your heart is pumping blood so fast that you're starting to feel a little dizzy from it, purposefully slowing your breath to keep your calm.

Once your beer is finished you've decided that enough is enough. A part of you wanted to take this slow; he seemed like such a nice guy, as well as being into your kind of music, and hot as sin. Unfortunately, it seems your pussy has other ideas, already banging its own heartbeat like a dinner bell.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He tries to make it sound casual, but he's wound so tight it's almost a strangled noise. Nursing a semi since he saw you in the woods earlier, now it's straining against his jeans in a futile attempt to be near you.

He looks so damn nervous, and it gives you the confidence you need to swing your leg over his and straddle him. Eager hands land immediately on your hips, thumbs pressing hard to keep you there.

This time, you lean in. Your kiss is fire, tongue burning hot and heavy in his mouth. Eddie groans into the kiss, rolling desperation from his mouth to yours. He's breathing so hard it's whistling through his nose, clouding your cheek with condensation.

It almost feels like a competition, both tongues duelling, determined to unravel the other. Lips swollen and blood filled, your mouth tries to keep up with his, spit gathering at the edges. You'd be self conscious about it if you weren't so damn turned on.

Eddie's hands roam all over, grasping at your ass under your skirt, slipping inside the thin material of your panties at the back, until he runs a thumb just next to your underwear but this time dangerously close to your sex. You moan onto his tongue, your own hands winding into his hair, pulling harshly to spur him on.

He can't concentrate on the hard tingle your fingers cause to run all over his scalp, not when slips his fingers past the cotton barrier and he runs them up and down your slippery slit. Mind entirely encased in a pink fog of lust, you realise your mumbling in his mouth.

“Please, please, please-”

The corners of his mouth turn up at the sound, thumb seeking out your clit to rub circles on and around it, your arousal causing it to slip and slide. You're dizzy, hot all over, pussy aching for something inside.

Eddie's obsessed with the feel of you, the heat emanating from your cunt, but most of all with the sounds you make. They'd be pornographic, if they weren't so fucking real. Needy, hoarse moans, peppered with little gasps and whimpers that are making his cock twitch with each slip of his thumb.

Gliding a finger inside, he watches as your head rolls back, a strangled groan falling from your kiss bitten lips. You're practically riding his hand, bouncing your tits so close to his face that he's in a trance. As if you can hear his prayers, you pull your shirt off, fighting with the tight material until you can shake it off your arm.

He sees the glimpse of a tattoo, a snake wrapped around a dagger directly in your cleavage, which he momentarily thinks is really hot, but then he's gone. Your bare chest is a masterpiece, perfect tits jostling with each bounce of your thighs. He latches his mouth to a nipple, tonguing and sucking on it like he needs it to breathe. In fact he almost forgets to, pulling his mouth off to take a gasping breath and latch onto the other.

He drags his mouth away when he feels you tightening impossibly hard around his fingers and leans back just in time to see the show. Your climax is violent, grinding into his fingers hard and rough until suddenly you're screaming his name, nails breaking the skin of his neck as you cling on for dear life. Your release engulfs your body in a flash of fire, singeing each nerve and causing you to convulse in his grip. Eddie can barely move, his fingers straining hard to work you through your orgasm, so much so that the tendons of his arm hurt, but he doesn't care. He keeps on curling them until you physically grab his arm to still him.

His dripping fingers are released with a sucking sound as he grins at you smugly. Not for long though, not with your chest heaving like that and the way you're biting your lip. You yank at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and relishing in the exposed skin by lathing your tongue over his collar bone.

“Nice tats.” You breathe onto his skin between sucks and nips.

“Same to you,” he stumbles out in a gasp as a particular sharp bite to his neck shoots a lightning bolt of heat down his spine.

“You haven't seen all of them,” you reply, nibbling at his earlobe.

He's never wanted to hunt for tattoos more in his whole life.

“Fuck, you are a dream.”

His teeth bite down on your shoulder and you whimper, grinding down on his rock hard bulge. Enveloping his lips in another urgent kiss, and another, until you can break away long enough for one word.

“Bedroom?”

“Jesus fucking Christ yes.”

He stands, still holding you, knocking a beer bottle to the floor. You cling to him with your legs as he walks backwards, sending a table lamp flying in the process. It's inconsequential; your head is fighting through a cloud of need, nothing can find its way through but touch and taste.

In the hallway, he slams your back into the wall, pressing you hard against it as he writhes his tongue in your mouth again. A picture frame falls, you just about hear the tinkling of glass but it's not important. That's tomorrow's problem.

Unhooking yourself from his clutches for a moment, you drag him by the front of his jeans and yank him into a doorway, gasping for breath, grasping at flesh. You practically punch the lightswitch to turn it on, the thought that you need to see him just about making it through the horny mist. Once inside he barely has a chance to take in his surroundings before you're falling to your knees and undoing his belt with impatient fingers.

“Woah, baby, you don't need to-”

“Shut the fuck up Eddie I wanna blow you.”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and then compulsively strokes his neck just to keep some composure. If he thinks about your words for a second longer he's sure he'll bust right in his pants.

You work his fly and pull his jeans and boxers down swiftly, his turgid cock flying free and whacking his stomach, decorating it with a pearl of precum. It feels heavy in your hands as you rub him up and down, watching the soft skin move with each pass, like silk wrapped around a steel bar.

Taking him into your mouth, you twirl your tongue around his head, licking up its salty sweetness, sucking lightly. Eddie groans, torn between covering his eyes and holding you in place, so he does a bit of both, until you start taking him deeper and deeper without gagging.

His eyes snap open to see you staring straight at him, nose nestling in his coarse pubic hair, eyes wide and wet and innocent, mouth stretched full of him, and he feels his balls tighten.

“Fuck stop stop, please.”

He practically bends in half to get you off of his dick. Giving him a smug smile of your own, you delicately wipe the spit gathered at the corners of your mouth with a thumb.

“You OK there champ?”

“You are gonna kill me sweetheart.”

He's heaving, trying to control his breath, eyes darting from your face, to your bare chest and back up. Standing up, you unzip your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, leaving you in your tiny pink underwear with a very noticeable wet patch, and your thigh high socks. There's another tattoo hiding just out of sight, playing peekaboo over the top of your panties.

Something about seeing you so innocent and yet so naughty flicks a switch in his brain. Before he can think he's pushing you backwards and you hit the mattress behind with a thud, legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

Which is fucking perfect in Eddie's opinion because he needs to taste you right now otherwise he might die.

You both fight to take your underwear off, but he covers your hand in his own when you start rolling your socks down.

“No. Leave them on.”

It's husky and dominant, a steely look behind those soft brown eyes you haven't seen yet. Well. Filing that away for reference. You lay there sweetly, propped up on your elbows to watch as his tongue squirms against you, making out with your cunt just as passionately as he kissed you.

He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks and for a moment you can see God.

“Holy fuck! Eddie!” He groans back, lost in the taste of your cunt. He wants to write a poem about it, a song, a fucking haiku, anything to immortalise the prettiest pussy with the sweetest flavour.

“Eddie, get up here!” He's not listening, licking and sucking, almost getting as much pleasure as you are, but you need him inside you right now before you combust; you're sure of it.

In the end you grab a chunk of his hair and pull him upward, sliding him over your trembling body, and you hold his face an inch from yours.

“Eddie, I need you to fuck me, now.”

His leaking tip is rubbing against your swollen clit; he takes it in his hand to line it up, when somewhere out of the pussy drunk haze he remembers something important.

“Do you have protection?”

“I'm on the pill, is that-”

It clearly is OK. It's possibly the best four words Eddie's ever heard.

Your unfinished sentence morphs into a drawn out moan as Eddie pushes inside you, stretching you out until he's fully sheathed. As you whimper and whine at the feeling, Eddie stops, just for a moment, to hold your cheek and press a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

For some reason that takes you entirely by surprise, eyes wide and wet at his honesty.

“Yeah? You're really handsome, Eddie.”

The smile he shoots you is warm and genuine, lighting up that animate face of his with an inner glow. You roll your hips upward and take joy in the fact that he wasn't expecting it, eyebrows knitting in shock as a litany of swear words spill from his mouth.

Your smirk is short lived when he hikes your leg around his waist and starts thrusting devastatingly deep, so deep it's like he's in your guts trying to root out the source of the burning desire at the pit of your stomach.

“Holy- oh God, Eddie!”

Moaning loudly, you press hot, cushy kisses to him between your stream of noises, forehead resting on his. Eddie's smiling, he can't help it. Just the joy of being with you like this, the feel of you losing it because of him, and the tightness of your pretty cunt have him in paradise.

“Feels- feels so- oh fuck- so good, inside you, sweetheart. So fuckin’ tight, I-I can feel you shaking, you close?”

Words escape you. All you can do is cling to his back and nod, nails clawing into him with shivering intensity. Eddie thrusts into you harder; all you can do is cling on for your life, arms and legs nearly suffocating him. The telltale tingle of your release is nearly burning your skin, prickling over each downy hair making it stand on end.

The heat is immense, tension gripping your legs as you quake, and writhe, and whimper, until your climax flies out of you, shooting out of every pore and forcing tears from your eyes. Your vision turns bright white for a moment, until all the tension leaves your muscles and you flop back on the bed.

Eddie doesn't understand how you keep on getting hotter, but it doesn't matter. You let him inside of you, raw, and his head is still reeling from that. Each little sound, each flex of your constricting walls is pushing him to ecstasy; in fact he's staving it off so he can enjoy you like this for a little while longer.

Getting up on his knees, he pulls you toward him by your thighs, guiding you to roll your hips as he pumps into you. This angle is so much better; he can see all of your incredible body laid out before him, tits bouncing with each thrust. Your small hand finds his forearm, just holding it lightly, as you whine.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

It's high pitched, mumbled and nearly incoherent. He's not even sure you know you're doing it, but it's what pushes him over the edge. He feels the tightness in his balls as his length grows impossibly hard.

“Sweetheart, where-” He manages through gritted teeth.

“Please cum in me.”

Eddie's four new favourite words. He grips hard to your thighs, hard enough to bruise, as he groans and swears his release out. You feel it deep inside, throbbing out of him, when he finally collapses forward. You hold onto each other, tongues rolling into each other's mouths, kissing and kissing and kissing. You kiss until it hurts, until your mouth is chapped and sore, until you need air, and water.

“Fuck, Eddie, that was… sorry, if I er, came on a bit, strong?”

Eddie just laughs, pressing his body as tightly against yours as he can.

“Please don't ever apologise for wanting to fuck my brains out.”

You laugh, kissing his cheek.

“When you put it like that, fair enough. Right, get off me, I need to clean up.”

“I can take care of you-”

“Yeah, and I'm a grown woman who needs to piss, so please?”

You roll your wrists, flinging your hands in desperate circles. He surrenders, pulling off you and rolling onto his back, more than happy to watch your naked form sway out of the room.

Eddie does a little wiggle dance when you leave the room, punching the air with glee. He starts looking at your room, since he had no time to see it earlier. There's a tin on the bedside table that looks remarkably similar to what he has at home, and an honest to goodness lava lamp next to it. Unable to help himself, he flicks it on at the plug, waiting for it to warm up.

“Sweetheart, you mind if I roll?” He calls out.

“Sure, my shits on the side table, just light the incense on the dresser.”

Eddie seeks his boxers out and puts them on for his modesty, though it seems you may be a little, lacking, in that department. Not that he's complaining, far from it. He's obsessed with your demeanour, your confidence.

Once the incense is lit, he rolls a joint, fussing over it to make sure it's perfect for you. Just as he pulls the little twisted paper end off, you walk back in.

You'd taken the time to go to the restroom, clean yourself up, and find his t-shirt that was abandoned in the TV room. The hellfire logo is tight across your chest, the shirt barely covering your sex where you stand. The smile you shoot to him is absolutely smothered in sin.

“That's, fuck, you do not play fair, sweetheart.”

Eyes wide, eyebrows round and innocent, your mouth falls into a perfect o.

“I have no idea what you're talking about baby.”

Eddie can't speak. If he does, he'll give everything away. How wonderful you are, how that tightrope of dirty and sweet that you walk with ease twists his insides up. How he never wants to go home.

Instead, he passes the unlit smoke to you, and holds out his zippo like a sacrificial offering. You sit side saddle on the bed, knees together, barely covering your throbbing core, as you take the rolled joint gratefully and spark it. Once you've had a few tokes you pass it back.

“So, this was…” He widely gestures his arm, like it can encompass everything he's felt over the last few hours.

“You wanna leave, Eddie?” You ask. A genuine question, cocking your head to the side, as he takes a few pulls of the smoke and hands it back.

“I thought, well, I thought you'd want me to go.”

“Eddie, I said we had all night. If you're done with me then-”

“Oh, oh fuck no, I thought you'd be done with me!”

You giggle and climb into his lap as he grasps at the flesh of your ass desperately.

“Then stay. Stay with me.”

Your mouth presses kisses to his jaw as your hand winds itself into his boxers, seeking out his hardening length. Eddie hisses through his teeth.

“Fuck, I'll stay, as long as you fuckin’ want, w-whatever you want, Holy shit!”

Laughing, you puff on the smoke with one hand, and tease him relentlessly with the other.

For the second, third, or maybe even fourth time today, he's thinking he's in way over his head, but he can't find it in him to care.

********************

Eddie blinks hard, squishing his eyes shut, then opens them again. Nothing has changed. There's still an unfamiliar fabric hanging on the ceiling in front of him; some rainbow tie dye mural with a painted mariguana leaf in the middle of it that he's never seen before. When he turns his head, he sees a lava lamp, still on, running bubbles of fake lava up it too loose and fast, and then he remembers.

Flicking the switch to stop the lamp's heat, he turns over to see you. You're snuggled into the crook of your own elbow, face perfectly at ease. Your pretty mouth has the hint of a pout to it, daring him to plant a kiss.

He wants to do something for you. Anything. Right now, he'd throw a parade, organise a concert to sing to your cunt, hold a benefit to make you believe how hard he's fallen for the colour of your eyes, but maybe making you a coffee in bed will do.

So he wiggles out of bed in his boxers, and puts his jeans on for good measure in case your mom decides this is a good moment to turn up, and starts busying himself with the kitchen appliances. There's an ancient coffee maker that shakes and sputters to life. Whilst that is going on, he takes a slug of milk out of the carton in the fridge.

That is, until he sees Dustin from the side of his eye.

Dustin looks very confused. His eyes trail from the messed up couch cushions, to the beer bottles on the floor, the out of place lamp, and the broken picture frame, and finally land on Eddie, still bemused and befuddled.

“Eddie… did you… break into my house?”

Dustin clearly doesn't believe his own conclusion as his eyes scout across the available options and still come up empty.

“Sup, Dust Buster!”

Dustin swivels to see you exit your new bedroom, still wearing Eddie's hellfire t-shirt and a pair of panties. You perch nonchalantly on the kitchen side as Eddie grins, making his way between your knees.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me! Eddie!”

“Henderson, honest, I didn't know until-”

“Until you were in my fucking house???”

“OK fair, but it was a bit… late then. Sorry dude.”

‘Sorry? What about the code?” Come on, she's my sister! And you!” He says, pointing at you accusingly, “you were in school for one day. One! Then you sleep with the one guy I look up to!”

“The codes, more like… guidelines. Don't shit your pants, you've still got Harrington, Jeez.”

“Well, you shouldn't be such a- a scarlet woman! A hussy!”

Uncaring, you shake your head back and away, laughing at the names. Eddie, however, is not having any of it.

“Hey, Henderson, you better show your sister some respect.”

“Yeah? Or what?” He dares, forgetting who he's talking to.

“I might be fucking your sister, but I'm still your DM. You want your green adventurers running into Tiamat next session?”

The way he curves his lips, the confident stance he's giving, it stirs tiny fires in your gut and dares unthought of kinks to come out and play.

“Alright, alright, don't TPK us, I'm leaving, alright?”

Dustin turns on his heel. Before he disappears entirely, you make out the start of him begging, ‘Lucas, do you copy, I have a Code Red! Repeat! Code Red!”

“so, what now, Dungeon Master?”

“Mmph,” Eddie sounds out, low in his throat, “ whatever you want, scarlet woman.”

Taglist- If you want to be added or removed, please PM me!

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @joejoequinnquinn

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #switch!eddie #switch!eddie x switch!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x female reader #eddie x fem reader #eddie x fem!reader

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janitorhutcherson · 5 months

Text

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt

surprise, bitches!!! im giving yall a lil taste of some more writing. im not really on hiatus (obvi, i post every 5 minutes) but i've been sooooo busy that i haven't been able to post half as much. with that being said, here are some more in depth headcanons ab yandere!mike. :p could not have done this without @futturmand literally helping me (coming up w/) most of these. thank u bae.

warnings: drugging, violence, sex, daddy kink, abusive tendencies

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olderbfyandere!mike schmidt was kinda an asshole. to his coworkers, random customers at the mall, anybody who came too close to you, and yes, even sometimes to you. he was the kind of guy who had a semi-permanent grimace on his face. the corners of his mouth would turn into smiles typically only when he was with abby or you two were alone and he could let his guard down. of course, even then, the moment you caught an attitude, that grimace would appear right back on his face. his demeanor was typically gruff. he was the kind of guy most people didn't want to mess with. this meant any male coworkers around you would be tested their fate to even glance at you the wrong way and god forbid mike saw one of them brush something off of your shoulder. that would truly be the end of them.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt is very obsessive over safety. after losing garrett, he has this urge to do nothing but to protect. this means that mike is the type of guy to want your location at all times. not only that, but he wants to know what you're doing, who you're with, and what time you'll be home. he expects a text when you leave, a text when you get there, an hourly check-in, then a text on your way home. it brings him a sense of peace, knowing where you are. he watches life360 obsessively when you're not in his sight, watching your little bubble move through wherever you may be. he's constantly checking the speed of the car you're in, occasionally stalking your friend's instagram stories to see where you are. he's overprotective to the extent that it can be overbearing, but at the end of the day it's endearing knowing he cares that much.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt uses the fact that you're younger than him to manipulate you. he's less about violence or anything physical and instead uses his words. he will constantly remind you how helpless you are without him, how he has so much more life experience than you. he'll point out randomly when you mention not knowing how to do something, saying something like, "see, babydoll, where would you be without me? that's right, nowhere. you need me to take care of you." he's also the kind of guy to eventually make you financially dependent on him if he could ever afford it. he would never put you in that spot until he was comfortable enough to do so, though, meaning it might be a loooong time before that ever happened.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt treats you less like a partner and more like a little sibling, kinda like he treats abby. as strange as it is, he also feels a paternal instinct to protect you. it comes from his deep-rooted feelings of abandonment. he lost garrett, his mom, his dad, and sometimes he feels like abby hates him. he loves that you listen to him, that he can command you to do something and you'd be so good for him. he absolutely adores being able to control different aspects of your life, making you completely reliant on him. it makes him feel special and needed, which he hasn't felt in a very long time. he loves nothing more than when he gets to scold you almost like a parent, your eyes falling to the ground, that adorable wounded puppy look he loves so much taking over your face.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt is incredibly clingy and touch starved. he wants to have a hand on you 24/7. forget having personal space, because you are not getting it with him. he'd follow you around, watching you everywhere you'd go. his hands would grip onto your hips so tightly sometimes it'd feel like they were glued to them. he'd always have his arms around you, kissing at your neck, nipping in a way you felt shouldn't be shown in public. mike didn't care, he wanted everyone to know you belonged to him in every single way. he controlled you, and if he wanted to embarrass you and turn your face red by leaving purple marks on your neck in the middle of a shopping plaza, then so be it. you would take it or be punished.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt who of course uses his sleeping pills on you when you're being a little brat. he isn't violent with you for the most part except for the rare occasion when he will hold you down onto the bed until you'll listen, but otherwise he opts for something simpler. when you're being a little too frustrating for him, going against his every command or you're not feeling like being held, mike will simply crush up his sleeping pills, slip them into your water. he's careful with you once you doze off, never abusing you in any way. all he will do is tuck you into your shared bed and hold your body in his arms, whispering sweet nothings as you're off in your own sweetly drugged up world.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt would most definitely have a thing for being called daddy. sorry guys, it had to be said. hot take, i guess. considering he did want to protect you so thoroughly, he loved when you'd call him daddy. it made him feel like your protector, like you knew he was the one that did everything for you. it was so crazy how such a simple word could change his whole day. he loved hearing it fall out of your lips as he'd brush through your hair or wash your body off in the shower. "thank you, daddy," you'd hum and he'd grin ear to ear. "you're welcome, babydoll," he'd always say, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #mike schmidt smut #yandere #yandere mike schmidt #olderbf!mike #olderbf!mike schmidt #olderbfyandere!mike schmidt

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submalevolentgrace · 1 year

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Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.

I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?

I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!

okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:

if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.

that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...

context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.

the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).

but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.

a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.

this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.

okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.

but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.

bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!

but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.

and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.

he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.

so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:

"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving. but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do. the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee. i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't! but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."

and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.

i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."

you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.

and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.

in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way

and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!

also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.

by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.

but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.

we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."

but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.

i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.

i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.

and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.

so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:

why does she have a prosthesis?

from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?

and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???

i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.

and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:

#prosthesis #prosthetic #disability #ableism

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jwnstars · 11 days

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성훈 — cold bf! sunghoon who you wrapped a little cute bow around his biceps because of a tiktok trend. pairings whipped!sunghoon x hyper!reader, very very extremely fluff :p

SCROLLING THROUGH TIKTOK, the girl laid on the soft bed instantly making a starfish position while her phone just inches away from her face. a sad frowning face smacked onto her face when her boyfriend, sunghoon, had to stop paying her attention and focused on his work that was supposedly more important than her. . . for just a minute.

the girl scrolled and scrolled, trying to make time go past faster so she could finally cling onto her busy boyfriend again.

“cuz i love to love to love you…”

she stumbled across a video of a girl wrapping around a ribbon onto her boyfriends bicep, a little cute pink bow holding onto dear life trying to hang on his bulging muscles, it seemed very tight on his muscles like it was about to burst at any moment.

she gasped in the sight of how he did the smallest move, the ribbon SNAPPED. ripped out of his biceps. no effort whatsoever, it seemed like the ribbon just gave out.

then she had an idea ! she turned to hoon, with a cheeky smirk and a mischievous face. before turning back to her pocket,

she checked her pockets for ribbons, being a heavy ribbon fan girl, she always had spare ribbons. she checked the deepest depths of her pockets until her hands reached a long pink ribbon, as she squealed in excitement. sunghoon had heard her and turned around slowly,

seeing that his girlfriend was occupied and busy he smiled at how cute she was by the fact she was giggling all by herself.

“hoonie!” she beamed with a big smile, sunghoon fully turning to her, focusing on her with laser-focus. his attention not leaving her, “give me your arm!” sunghoon raised a brow at the specific request his girlfriend asked, but he didn’t mind. he handed his arm to her in curiosity, waiting for what she would do.

she had retrieved the pink ribbon from her pocket and then she wrapped it around his muscle, she gasped in wow in how she never noticed how much sunghoon had probably worked out. sunghoon watched her attentively while chuckling softly, observing her actions.

she had successfully tied the ribbon onto his biceps, “so cute, babe” her boyfriend wow’ed at how ‘cute’ it was. (def not just looking at his gf and not the ribbon. . .) “ackkkk!! it’s so attractive…. I’m sorry !!!” she squealed at the sight of her boyfriends biceps this time,

his red sleeveless shirt definitely didn’t help how much his muscles were exposed. she was a blushing mess.

“since when did you get so buff…” his gf freely squished on his muscles, still in shock on how his gains were so defined. “I guess I go to the gym too much.” he giggled warmly, his eyes still not leaving the girl.

“I only gained all of these muscles to impress you, babe.” he looked at her with all seriousness, not a single joke or sarcasm in his tone. “waaaah, thank you love ~~~ ” she put her hand onto her face, a little bit stunned.

“now… may I ask why the ribbons, babe?” she had finally remembered the whole purpose of what she was doing, so she could do the trend.

but it all left her mind because she finally got the attention she wanted, “OHHH RIGHT. love it’s a tiktok trend !!!!” she adjusted the ribbon while he nodded, still laughing a bit. “do you wanna film it?—” she was soon cut off by the chatterbox, hoon.

“no… baby… I’m kind of in the mood to just hug youuuu yk? just cuddle to be honest…” sunghoon mildly whined and his gf scoffed at how cute he was but at the same time how he suddenly wanted attention. “okkkk fine come over here.”

she opened her arms welcoming sunghoon into her soft embrace, he soon engulfed into her warmth and felt like he never wanted to let go. “you smell nice, you look so beautiful.” sunghoon muttered softly, feeling sleepy while he was in her arms.

“I don’t know how you could be so pretty and yet be so mine…” she blushed, her cheeks being rosey and pink when she heard his voice in her ear.

her number one question… how did they get from ignoring each other to obsessing over biceps to getting endless cuddles. their mood swings were a different breed.

“thank you for making my biceps just as pretty as you.”

@jwnstars . . .

first thing I’ve wrote on here.. I don’t know how to work tumblr. 🥶🥶🥶 sorri this is short.. just wanted to make something in the meantime 🤧

#enhypen #enhypen fan fiction #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon au #sunghoon imagine #enhypen imagine #sunghoon one shot #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon x you #enhypen fluff

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pedge-page · 6 months

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Swim Lessons

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: in Jackson, you find a creative way to get Joel to come to the lake to see Ellie swim.

Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, Joel calls you a slut or whore a few times, fingering, orgams denial, slight belly bulge, teasing, minor breeding kink (honestly I don't count it but maybe sorta), description of female reader body, low key perverted Joel, language, wet Joel is a warning itself.

18+ ONLY, minors DNI

- - - -

You were walking outside, planting flowers outside some of the main walkways when you had overheard the two of them through their kitchen window.

Ellie was begging Joel to teach her how to swim during their first summer at Jackson. There was a lake within the confines of the community that was open for fishing and, during the hot summer months, leisure swimming. What a luxury in the apocalypse.

"No."

"Please??"

"I said no."

"Wuss," Ellie mumbled under her breath.

Joel shot daggers at her, but he was not going to budge.

"Ain't going to no lake and getting my clothes wet just to watch you flail like a kid who can't swim."

"I AM a kid who can't swim, asshole. And you'd have to take your clothes off, duh."

Oh what a sight that would be.

Joel laughed out loud. "Even more reason I won't be there."

Joel turned around and noticed you leaning on the ground, your back turned towards him. He admired your silhouette, the little shorts and tank top covering your backside as you delicately turned over the soil and planted the bulbs. He was unaware that you could hear their conversation, but you were fully aware oh his eyes burning at the back of your skull.

Ellie noticed (she always notices--Joel can't help but make it so obvious when he's staring at you). "She'll be there too."

Joel scoffed, acting like be wasn't checking you out for three silent minutes straight. "Who?" He asks incredulously.

Ellie raised her eyebrows. "Bet she'll wear something cute."

Joel shook his head, acting uninterested. His mind was going a thousand miles a minute eying you up once again and trying NOT to think about the numerous bathing suits he could picture you In, all of which he'd be stripping you out of by the time the sun set.

You hear your name being called from the window by Ellie. You turn around and wave. Joel tries to dodge your eyes, a blush creeping on his face.

"Will you teach me to swim tomorrow at the lake?" Ellie asked.

"Of course!" You responded. "I'll be there at 3."

The next day, right at 3pm, Ellie was right on time. You were stretching along the sandy waterline, watching others kick around the shallow waters and diving into the depths. It was genuinely peaceful.

Ellie wore a full piece that ended in shorts, modestly covering her lower region. You could tell she was incredibly anxious to be standing around in such tight fitting and revealing clothes.

It pissed you that she was alone.

"He didn't come?"

"Said he would think about it. But he was going down for a nap when I left." She mumbled dejected. You watched her twirl her fingers anxiously, watching the dozens of kids and adults freely splashing around the water.

You knew having Joel here would help her confidence, knowing there was someone here who knew her more intimately. The one who taught her to shoot, hunt, and survive. But ultimately, having Joel here would give her someone to bully, and that was a huge confidence booster for the 14 year old.

"He'll come," you said, absolutely sure. "I'll go talk to him in a few minutes. Now let's just standing in the water for a bit, get you used to the temperature."

Joel was lying faceup on the couch, his arm propping his neck up against the armrest. He had no plans to go to the lake that day. The less he thought about you, the better off he'd be at resisting your temptations.

A fervent knock on the door startled him. Grumbling, he reluctantly got up from napping position and opened the door.

There were a million things he expected, but you standing there in the most revealing bikini, dripping wet all over his porch, fucking barefoot, was not one of them.

"Hey Joel!" You beamed. You could see his brain stop working as he stood there gawking at you like a fish out of water. "Ellie forgot her goggles so I'm just coming by to pick them up."

"Uhhhhh."

You had to suppress the smirk on your face as you pushed by him to jog upstairs to Ellies room. When you came back, making an obvious show of your breasts and ass bouncing down the stairs, you twirled the googles in your hand. "Got em!"

You made your way to the front door.

Joel still hadn't uttered a word. He was struggling to process what to say. He could be mad that you barged in without permission. Or that you were leaving water footprints all over the floorboards. But no, all that was on his mind was the way the water dripped down your wet hair, running down between the valley of your tits, your belly, cascading along your naval, between your legs. The way the bra did nothing but accentuate your supple breasts, pushing them up and together like they were tempting him. How gorgeous your legs looked with basically string over your hips, and the glistening of droplets against your skin just making you shine in the sun. The entire time he didn't even make eye contact with you, so unaware of the fact that he was staring at every inch of your body. His tongue slowly licked his parched lips. The only thing on his mind was bending you over his knee right now and beating you ass red--

"Ellie's making good progress. Shame you won't be there to see," you said, smile still genuine and sweet on your face as you went to the front door. He finally looks up to your eyes and blushes, quickly looking away.

"Yeah.... shame," he mumbles.

You wave goodbye--making even effort to have your tits sway with the movement, before hopping off towards the lake.

---

It takes all of 10 minutes for Joel to show up at the lake. You know it because Ellie, who was now doggy paddling in the shallow end, stood up and gave a low whistle. You were in the water with her, lying down to submerge your body, when you turned around. God, you wish you had a camera.

Joel stood in the sand awkwardly looking lost and out of place, beach towel in hand, flip-flops and (oh my GOD) actual shorts. You took a closer look, realizing this is the first time you've ever seen his legs (he's always wearing jeans) and notice they weren't swim trunks. They were fucking boxers. To your dismay, he was wear a short sleeves shirt, but none the less, this was most naked Joel had ever been in pubblic. And you could see the same nervous stance Ellie had when she first showed up too.

"Well aren't you pretty, you old fucker," Tommy muttered, whistling at Joel as well. He was sun bathing in his swim trunks, shirtless, with sunglasses.

Ellie bounced out of the water to come oogle Joel, making snide comments. Her attitude had improved immensely, just as you suspected.

"Yeah yeah, shut up." He groaned. "Where are your goggles?"

"What goggles?"

Joel stared at Ellie, then to you. He gave you a knowing, defeated look. You sunk down in to the water so he couldnt see your giggles. He sat down next to Tommy.

You came out, freshly soaking wet in your bikini.

Joel moved his beach towel to his lap, wrapping up towards his lower ribcage to conceal his belly, sitting there with hands by his side, legs bent, trying to hide his obvious boner from the world. Despite how much he eye fucked you earlier, he was doing his best to avoid looking at you now.

"So nice of you to come see Ellie, Joel," you teased. You sat down next to him, softly pressing your tits right against his muscle arm. The tips of his ears were bright red.

"You're supposed to take your shirt off and go swimming," Ellie said.

"M'fine right here. Ain't nobody need to see what's under here."

"Wuss," Ellie mumbled. Before Joel could tut her off, she was leaping back into the water. You and Joel were both extremely proud of the work she had made.

And yes, you could see the difference in her confidence now that Joel was here watching her. You both watched her splash some of the other kids, laughing and enjoying herself.

Without removing his gaze from Ellie, Joel leaned towards you. "You're a fucking tease, you know that?"

He hadn't noticed you had whipped the goggles out. You dropped them on to his lap, causing him to yelp as they grazed the tip of his erect dick under the towel. You snatched his glasses from his eyes and put them over your head, forcing him squint at you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

- - - -

About two hours later, most people had gone home to enjoy a summer nap after a day at the lake. The sun was setting beyond the trees. Joel waved Tommy goodbye, leaving just him, you, and Ellie. You had fallen asleep under an umbrella (an umbrella Joel had to put over you so you didn't burn in the sun while you slept.)

He took his shirt off and slipped into the lake, encouraging Ellie to go deeper into the water, promising he'd be right next to her. You had awoken to both of them comfortably in the water together, Ellie splashing Joel and getting his fluffy hair all wet and tampered down. It made your heart swell to watch the two of them exist as they are without anyone else.

You did your job. Time to go home.

You had started rolling up your towel when Joel's wet hand reached out and grabbed you. You turned around and saw him dripping wet, finally shirtless. Fuck he was even more imposing with less clothing. His soft belly did nothing to lessen his broad shoulders and strong built. Your eyes drifted down to his boxers, now clinging to his muscle thighs and hips and the outline of his big fucking c---

Joel smirked to himself, seeing the blush creep on your face. He realized how the reversal of your roles from earlier still garnered the same reaction.

"Thanks again for coming to teach Ellie to swim," you piped, hoping it wasn't obvious the effect his body had on you for a change.

"You were the one teaching her most of it. Just came to watch."

"Me or Ellie?" You smirked.

Joel rolled his eyes. He would never admit that the main reason he came was to watch you strut around in that pathetic excuse of a bikini for hours. Once you had given him a taste at his front door and left, he botled upstairs, dug through his clothes, searching for swim trunks. He didn't want to see too out of the ordinary when he showed up to eye fuck you for the rest of the evening. Not having a single pair of swim shorts wasn't going to stop him from seeing you in your glory.

He glanced back down to your breasts (now realizing you were pushing your arms together to accentuate their plumpness right at him), licking his lips. Seductively bringing his darkened gaze back to you, you felt your pussy throb with need.

He clearbed his throat. "Well, I was wonderin' if you wanted to--"

Before he could finish, Ellie had slapped a hand on Joel's back, barging in the conversation. "I am soooo pruney! Anyway, thanks for teaching me to swim!" She wrapped Joel's towel around his shoulders.

You and Joel both say at the same time "You're welcome."

Ellie took one look at the pair of you before loudly announcing, "Im going to Dina's tonight. Bye!" Before running off.

And then there were two.

You shuffled awkwardly, avoiding his eyes by playing with the sand below your feet. "You were saying? Wondering if I wanted to ... get swim lessons from you too?"

"Ha. No. Sure you're a fantastic swimmer. No. Wonderin' if you wanted to come to my place tonight."

"Oh? What for?" You teased.

He leaned closer, his fingers dragging your chin so you stare up as he pressed his wet body against yours. He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth before answering: "'Cause I'm not fucking you in some nasty lake."

You gulp, never expecting him to he so forward. For once, he had you speechless while he enjoyed your freezed reaction.

You two had barely made it through his front door before he was shoving his lips on yours, moaning into the kiss. Your lips were dry from the hours in the sun and water, but he was so thirsty for a taste of you that he couldn't care in the slightest.

"Teasin me all day with this fuckin bikini," he groaned, pulling the thin string that held your bilinki top together from the back. The top fell right off, his hands immediately replacing them to rub your breasts. "Knew these tits would be gorgeous," he moaned into your mouth, making you shiver. You closed your lips around his again, feeling his hands travel down your back till they reached your ass, giving a firm squeeze. "Can't believe you went out wearing a fucking thong and calling it a bathing suit."

"This IS a bathing suit," you laughed, licking his bottom pouty lip. "Least I didnt wear actual underwear."

He bit your earlobe, pressing you against the wall. "Gave you something to think about, didn't it?" His fingers were pushing your bottoms aside and rubbing along your soaked folds. You keened into his mouth, eyes closing with head thrown back. You could feel his hot breath on your face. "Fuckin knew you'd be soaked. Not just talkin about the water. Drenched cunt just from lookin at me, huh? Filthy slut."

Holy FUCK he had a mouth, and you couldn't help but feel more aroused from his words.

He continued to stroke your clit with his thumb, two fingers seaking your hole and plunging in at once. "Oh, fuck, Joel!"

He propped his knee between your legs, preventing you from closing them. He let you grind your pussy against his palm while he worked both fingers fast, curling, pulling then pushing in fast rythm, hitting your g spot with deadly precision.

"You like this?"

"Ah huh!"

"Say it."

"I like it! Oh J--m' gonna cum!"

Joel immediately withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the emptiness. "What the f--"

"Teachin everybody some lessons today." He kissed each cheek. "You're gonna learn not to tease me like that."

He continued to press his lips all over you you, refusing to put his fingers back on your aching clit. He resorted to grinding his wet bulge against your mound. You gasped at the sheer size of him, desperately needing that thing inside you.

Between kisses, you had gripped his hair which had now started to curl again around the roots. You managed to say, "Shower."

Joel scooped you up bridal style and carried you up the stairs. He placed you down in the bathroom slapping your ass.

"Take that rudiculous thing off," he ordered, nodding to your bikini bottom while he stripped off his own wet clothes off.

Your thighs clenched at the sight of his erect dick bouncing up to his soft tummy, standing tall, dripping a healthy amount of precum. It was flush red, angry at the tip, pulsing towards you. "See what ya do to me?" He wrapped a thick hand around the shaft, pumping it slowly while watching you. "Been like this all day cuz of you."

Your eyes never left it as you stepped backwards into the shower. He followed you in, shutting the curtains behind him.

While you turned on the shower and adjusted the heat, you could feel his lips met the back of your neck, slowly trailing down your shoulders and back up your spine. His stiff cock pressed between your silky thighs, rutting against your ass each time with desperate thrusts. You could feel your cunt aching at his earlier denial of your orgasm. You sigh heavily once the heat sprays you both. "Should get clean first before our mouths get too busy."

Joel nodded. You had lathered each other up, taking extra care to slick up his dick while he rubbed suds all over your ass, tits, and folds. He grunted, smiling when you would twist your wrist at the tip before fisting his cock repeatedly.

"Beautiful," he whispered against your lips.

His hand crept lower to your ass then down one thigh, hosting it up and around his hip as he drove your back against the slick wall. His other hand notched his cock at your entrance, teasing it.

"Gonna be a good girl and take this, yes?"

You bit your lip, avoiding his eyes. Of course you wanted to take that big fucker, ride his dick until morning. But you wanted to see how far he'd go just to "teach you a lesson."

Joel didn't like your lack of response. You felt a bot hand wrap around your throat, straitening you up. He pressed his face so close, his nose pushing against your cheek.

"SAY IT."

"'m gonna be a good girl, take your cock," you pleaded, unable to put up a farsce anymore. You smirked, and God, you were gonna be the death of him.

Joel impaled you on his full length in one thrust. You gasped, head slamming against the tile. "Ow!"

Joel's hand gently cupped the back of your head, rubbing the ache. "You okay?" He asked. He stayed still inside you.

You were so overwhelmed with how full you felt, how he just throbbed against your walls, that the pain in your head subsided quickly with his soft touch. "Just fuck me, pretty boy," you moaned.

He brought his lips to yours before beginning his assault, bringing both legs around his waist as he fucked you against the wall.

You had noticed it earlier when he emerged from the water with Ellie. How he'd run his hands in his wet hair, the wait it plastered smoothly against his head. It made him look both younger and older all at once. Mature and aloof, bold and serious, yet tender and like a playboy. It made you realize just how badly you wanted to be in this position right now, his cock ramming against your cervix, taking you like you were his.

"Little pussy so fucking tight, baby," he growled against your chest. "Fucking made to take my cock, ain't that right?"

You nodded again, whimpers and little shootings being the only sounds that could escape you.

As the water washed away the suds from your body, Joel took the opportunity to suck one breast in his mouth, biting your nipple. You dragged your hands into his hair, clenching tightly, wanting less, wanting more, wanting him.

His lower belly was grinding perfectly against your clit, your climax finding you quickly. "Joel," you warned.

"Go ahead, baby. You earned it. Cum on my cock."

And you were, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as you cum, cum and cum, pent up from not just today but from the weeks and weeks you had been teasing, trying, testing Joel, just to get you here. You smiled sadistically, still on cloud nine, rubbing your pussy against him.

Joel glances down at the sight of his cock disappearing into your warm heat. "Ooohh f-fuck baby. Look at that."

You looked down with him, watching a slight bulge appear and disappearing against your lower tummy with each puncture of his cock deep inside you. He pressed a palm flat against it, your walls clamping down on his dick even harder. "So big, Joel. Fills me up so good."

"Yeah? Been thinking about this cock filling you forever, haven't you? Doing whatever to get me to fuck you. M gonna give it to you, sweet pea. Every fucking day. Every night. Just keep those legs spread f'me, ya hear?"

"Yes yes yes yes, oh God yes, Joel!" You could already feel a second orgasm building inside you. You leaned back further into the wall, leveraging yourself to help bounce on his cock with each thrust.

"Little whore. Fucking yourself on my cock like that. Gotta ride my dick like this later tonight, okay? Ain't gonna last much now. Been needing you too much." He was grunting into your shoulder now, letting out needy groans as he neared his end. "Where do ya want?"

You shouldnt. Should be smart about this. Especially your first time with him. Especially in the apocalypse. Especially without any protection. But Your body had a mind of its own now, that familiar feeling climbing higher and higher deep inside you. Your ankles hitch around his back, caging him against you, reducing him to shallow, deep thrusts inside.

Joel could feel your tight draw to him. He smiled against your neck, thrusts picking up pace. "Tell me. Need to hear ya say it."

You gripped his hair again, making him moan, yanking him back to look you in the eyes. "Want your cum inside me, Joel Miller."

He drove his hips into yours like a mad man, fucking himself as deep as possible, teeth gritting, never once breaking eye contact, and then suddenly the both of you were seizing up, eyebrows scrunched together, mouths agape but pressed together as your orgasms washed over you. You could feel hot ropes of his cum pump deep inside, one, two, threefourfive--six healthy strings of pulses, emptying his load into your womb.

You both panted loudly, the only other sounds being the steady cascade of water down the drain. Joel peppered your lips in light kisses as you both came down from your highs. You could hardly form your lips to return the kisses, instead now realizing just how light headed you were feeling after the best cum of your life. Joel felt your legs loosen, barely catching yourself, as his cock slipped from your embrace. Strong arms didn't let go of you, watching as your eyes close, blissfully, your skin hot from the water.

He turned off the water and carried you to the bed, gently lying you down. He dried you up with a towel, with extra care against your battered pussy. Copious amounts of his cum was leaking, and he had to restrain himself from putting his hot tongue between your legs to clean you up, enjoy the taste of both of your mixed cum bit more. No, you were half passed out, skin aflamed from the hot shower. You needed tending.

He disappeared from the room for a moment, naked wet ass and all, before reappearing with a bottle.

"Need to start hydrating more if you're gonna be out in the sun all day, lady." He helped tilt your head up so you could take gulps of much needed water. You broke away to breath heavily, some water slipping down your chest. Joel didn't hesitate to drag his tongue up your skin, sucking the water off. You smiled dreamily.

"That's what you're here for."

- - - -

You napped, fucked again, ate, sucked his cock, then he ate you out, fell asleep, and then woke up with his cock buried inside you again.

The next morning, Joel got an angry Maria banging on his door, cussing him out for using too much water for your extra long shower yesterday, causing a shortage of heat and fresh running water for the surrounding 6 homes.

#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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haikyuuhoo · 6 months

Text

if i could bring you anything, i swear to god i'd bring you peace

pairing: suguru x reader

wc: 811

a/n: had a sad girl moment yesterday, so enjoy this fluff i dredged up from the depths of my drafts <3

listen

The muffled sound of your music goes quiet, and you wait a few beats before pushing yourself up to check what’s wrong. You take a deep breath as you breach the surface of the water, lungs burning at the intake of air, and your eyebrows pinch together almost immediately in annoyance at the sight in front of you.

“What are you doing?” Suguru isn’t even trying to hide the amused, albeit slightly concerned, look on his face. He’s sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, spinning your phone between his fingers.

“Having a sad girl bathtub moment, what does it look like?” you huff, leaning forward to grab the device—he really had the nerve to stop the music in the middle of such a good song—but he holds it above his head and out of your reach.

“Like you’re trying to see how long you can hold your breath. Like you dropped your ring but it fell down the drain when you were trying to get it and you don't know how to tell me so now you’ve given up. Like maybe I should be more worried. Should I be more worried?” He raises an eyebrow and you let out a quiet sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly with the motion, and the sight makes it feel like a weight has settled on his chest.

“No, I’m fine, can I please just have my music back?” You stick your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the puppy dog eyes you know usually make him fold.

But Suguru still doesn’t hand over your phone and instead sets it on the counter. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Rough day?”

His voice is so soft it threatens to break down the walls you’ve been holding up since you got out of bed that morning.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I just didn’t know when you’d be home, and—”

“You could have texted me.” Suguru frowns, but you wave him off.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I wasn’t gonna bother you.”

Suguru lets out an almost exasperated laugh, and the sound makes your belly warm. “Anything that makes you want to do this is a big enough deal to me.” He grabs your phone off the counter. “Tell you what. You have until I’m done making dinner to finish sad girl bathtub hours. You can still be sad, and we can talk about your day if you want to, or we can do something else. But what I’m not going to let you do is turn into a human-sized prune in our bathtub.” He sets your phone on the edge of the tub and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Okay?”

You nod slowly, relaxing at the lingering feeling of his lips on your skin before tilting your head up to urge him into a kiss.

Suguru hums into your mouth, pulling back for a fleeting moment to nudge his nose against your cheek. “Say okay,” he whispers.

“Okay,” you breathe, and you lean closer to capture his lips again and deepen the kiss. You pull one hand out from under the water and cup his jaw before pushing your fingers into his hair, your teeth flashing in the briefest glimpse of a grin at the way he jumps when water trickles down his neck.

He pulls away and you have to fight off a laugh as he wipes at the back of his head and noticeably shivers. “I’ll call for you when dinner’s ready.”

“Or…” You tilt your head to the side and give him a sweet smile. “You could join me?”

Suguru huffs out a ‘no-fucking-way’ laugh and shakes his head. “Absolutely not. That water is way too cold.” You pout, but he’s already standing up and turning toward the door. “I mean it. We can have sad girl blanket burrito hours or sad girl movie marathon hours, but we’re not going to have sad-girl-getting-hypothermia-in-the-bath hours.”

And this time you do laugh, and in that moment you both know he’s made the breakthrough you needed from him. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He nods, and he begins making his way back out of the bathroom when you call for him.

“Suguru?”

He turns back around and raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

“I love you,” you murmur with a voice so soft it makes his heart swell. “And thank you.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I love you too.”

You watch him leave the bathroom and then close your eyes, letting yourself take what feels like the first deep breath you’ve been able to manage all day. And then you look at where your phone is still resting on the side of the tub, waiting for you to press play, and you reach forward and pull the drain.

fun fact i felt like i needed to title this some phoebe bridgers lyric but i'm sadly not a phoebe girlie and i couldn't lie to y'all like that

reblogs & comments always appreciated <3

#geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto fluff #geto x reader fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #geto angst #geto x reader angst #jjk angst #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff

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itsravenbitch · 1 year

Text

how i revised my boyfriend’s mother’s death

a little backstory

— for the sake of privacy, we’re gonna say my boyfriend’s mother’s name is kay

kay’s “death” was caused by a car accident (wasn’t her fault) and she later passed in the hospital. this all happened in new york, and my boyfriend and i live in georgia. but about a 2 days after we found out, we flew out there.

my bf and his mom were super close so that loss was a lot on him. he started burying himself in the gym, sleep, work etc & eventually he became really depressed. he would not get up out of bed and i could not take that. that was when i decided to revise her death, and this was like a week after she passed.

the moment i learned she was dead, i naturally entered the state of loss. so, i simply and quickly went over what state of mind i was currently in, and what state of mind i needed to be in.

now y’all know i love meditating <3 so ofc i meditated. the one i used is by edward art, i believe i’ve mentioned it before. but here’s the link 😌💘

so yeah after this meditation i had completely satisfied my imagination, i had a great feeling of serenity, and i was in the state of the wish fulfilled. + i let go of any need to control the 3d.

— reminder: don’t look at your 3d as something to change. things change when they change in consciousness/imagination. if you wanna manifest something, don’t point out your current circumstance as something that you need to change. be cool and fulfill it in imagination;)

— also sn: my boyfriend knows about the law but he doesn’t necessarily study or consciously use it. so, i didn’t tell him i was revising his mom’s death.

— and i had to continue to act like his mom was actually dead when i was around him, even tho at this point kay was 100% alive in imagination.

so in the morning, i would wake up and assume the state of fulfillment. throughout the day, when i would go check on my boyfriend, he always expressed his feelings, how i could help, and new ways he was trying to cope. honestly, seeing him so hurt and confused hurt me. and throughout this, one of the few things i always reminded myself was that, i’m not my emotions and i’m my thoughts, and neither of those things matter (in terms of manifesting).

another thing i always reminded myself of was the fact that i’m god, BUT i’m also human. so, the ‘god me’ was relaxed & satisfied. the god in me also didn’t have a hurting boyfriend with a dead mom. but the ‘human me’ did and he needed my comfort.

so that’s what i did, i comforted him because he was grieving the death of his mother. so what? i’m human, and i have human decency so ima comfort my baby.

HOWEVER, i didn’t attach myself to that (accept it). i didn’t look at me comforting him as “his mom’s dead and that’s final”, i just did it because he’s my bf and he’s hurt. but i still maintained fulfillment in imagination.

— i talk about this more in depth here. but basically the post acknowledges that yes, you’re god, but you’re also still human and you have a human life to respond to. so do that, respond to your life (when necessary) while simultaneously fulfilling the inner man.

as long as you continue to return to the state and fulfill SELF, you will manifest whatever it is you’ve fulfilled.

when it manifested

the night before it manifested, my bfs dad asked everyone (the family) over for brunch. just so everyone could be together during rough times and whatnot.

the next morning when we woke up, my bf.. it was like he completely reverted; he just went back to his regular self. i made sure to take a mental note of it.

as we were driving to his dads house he was acting very normal. all that pain, hurt, etc was not there. his whole energy was different. then what really got me was when we had got to a red light. he said “i already know my moms threw down, i wonder what she cooked”……….and i’m like, i know i’m not trippin. just went along with it and agreed with him cause what was i supposed to do lol😭?

so we pull up to the house and get to the door, and one of his brothers opened it. as we’re saying hi and walking further into the house we start smelling food and my bf goes “YUP! I KNEW IT!!”

then he walks into the kitchen and says “hey ma watchu in here cooking? it smells good”……. and his mom was literally standing there smiling before she gave him a hug.

this all happened naturally by the way. it was like… she never died😂😂 the power of revision yall!

anyways the whole afternoon went by like nothing ever happened.

i honestly thought it was pretty funny. knowing how they used to interact with each other while they were grieving kay’s death vs now was hilarious. and what makes it funnier is they never knew and never will 😂😂😂

so there y’all have it, how i revised my boyfriend’s mother’s death. sorry i made y’all wait so long:) i literally got so demotivated while trying to type this.

feel free to ask questions cause ik yall got some😩😂 love y’all 🫶🏾

#law of assumption #neville goddard #imagination creates reality #loa #states #revision #success stories #successstories #law of attraction #affirmations #success story

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numberonetrashwitch · 8 months

Text

Some observations about Baldurs Gate 3 that hit too close to home.

After another few runs i will probably just make an in-Depth Character Analysis for every character simply because they are good reflections of actual trauma-manifestations and how abuse can manifest in people. They are also so well written that it serves a narrative purpose to explore all the material that is out there about them. I am also personally cursed with actual medically-relevant levels of Empathy and Hyperfixation; so writing this helps me put a pin in it and move on.

But so far here are my highlights

(SPOILERS and obviously content warning bc these are deep)

before you ask; i have almost 300h in this game.

You have to convince Shadowheart to eat the Noblestalk. She actually stells you she rather get her memories back from Shar but when you hit the persuasion or intimidation (what the fuck) check to get her to eat it she'll tell you about her childhood friend. Not her name, not her parents but her best firend. Possibly because she has had a closer bond to that person after being abducted and indoctrinated. With her believing herself to be an orphan, she would've looked elsewhere for comfort and sought out her own family, this is why she falls hard and heavy for Shar and builds the backbone of her indoctrination. She is literally ripped out of her home & given a new identity to server her from all she has known. Religious indoctrination, Gaslighting, Abduction, being forced to let go of your personality are her main themes.

There is a scene out there floating around in which you see Astarions pespective of the night when he bites Tav for the first time, in his meditations he is confronted with the rules Cazador put on him, including that he can't eat intelligent creatures, can't be away from Cazador unless allowed to, has to obey every command and that they are should know that they are property. Which in turn means that Astarion literally didn't just have any autonomy, he was objectified (and not just through seductive/sexual measures) and that is really the crux to understanding why he doesn't believe in kindness, but rather shows self-serving behavior in most cases. Since we know that Astarion was extremely young for an elf before he died and became immortal (literally stopping the aging /maturing process) it is also very telling that Cazador constantly calls him brat, boy or other very juvanile names, refering to them as a family... well it is also the story of a very controlling parent. Themes of (Bodily) autonomy, infantilization ( & puer aeternus, forever-child), slavery, depersonalisation, corruption of life and torture to break someone.

Gale isn't just a guy hung up on his Ex, but also a victim of abuse. In this case a power imbalance none of us can fathom; She is described as being a jealous goddess and rules over the domain of mysteries and magic. So with Gale being a Wizard, she is literally his boss. He admits that he was foolish enough to aspire to be an equal to her, but she is so jealous that she tells him he can't really be worthy as long as he takes breath. She could just take his powers away and be done with it, that would be more than enough punishment for a guy who literally made Mystra and her domain his life's purpose, but she rather makes him do it himself. Add to that, that she literally only tells him this after years of self-isolation (after he put down so many wards that he could've blown up a whole army as he says if you click the right dialogue) to really fuck him up well. He also talks about death pretty much constantly, not surprising giving your situation, but he will tell you that he will kill himself at several points in the game, for instance after he comes clear about his nethrese orb. Themes of romantic abuse, power-imbalance, toxic work enviorment, self-isolating behavior, suicidal ideation

Wyll ... well from the looks of it he is the most well adjusted of all the companions (my opinion) but he has something that i'd describe as the "eldest daughter"-syndrome, more commonly known as parentification. This pattern usually occurs within single-household parents and is commonly described as a parent looking to their child for emotional or practical support, rather than providing it to their kid. We meet Ulder and see that he talks over Wyll a lot, not listening but expecting him to follow the standard he sets for him. That is also why Wyll repeats his fathers words like gospel (because this is what, in his mind, fullfills the expectations bestowed upon him) and why he loves fairytales / bard tales so much (because they are an ecapist view of the job he set out to do) Ulder literally exiled his teenage son because Wyll did the only thing he could to save an entire city, by sacrificing himself. Thats a lot to expect from a 17 year old - even more so, he doesn't stop with the heroics. He expects himself, as a human who hasn't even reached the age of 30 to hold up to mystical creatures such as Astarion or Karlach, or even Gale who is a accomplished Wizard. Themes of parentification, escapism, self-harming through putting himself in danger, chronic-self-sacrifice

In plain words; Gortash, Karlach's Idol sold her to a Devil. But add to that that she must have been pretty young when she was sold (late teens to early twenties possibly) and being that if you play as a Tiefling, you face a lot of predjudice she was likely forced into that position as well. Starstruck she was, with a juvenile naitivy that Gortash used. Appropriately, as he is the chosen of Bane the god of "tyrannical oppression, terror, and hate, known across Faerûn as the face of pure evil through malevolent despotism" (Source: Forgotten-Realms Wiki / Bane) So she pretty much was raised in a toxic enviorment, which forced her to become a killing-machine, first figuretively, then with the extraction of her heart, literally. Themes of slavery, oppression, misuse of trust, being taken advantage by a more powerful/older(?) person, being drafted.

Jaheira - to be honest, you need to know the lore of the previous baldurs gate games or just listen to her dialouge, ask her all the questions. She is a war-veteran against Bhaal, the good of ritual murder, and has a long history of fighting to achieve some sort of balance of power. She lost her husband and several close people all to this, or any other war, but due to her wisdom and strength people look to her for guidance. Themes of: Survivors Guilt.

Halsin - he is really closed off at first but then just casually hits you with "i was captured in the underdark and spent 3 years chained to a bedroom wall by a pair of drows who used me as they pleased". He is reprimanded by some of his druids for leaving the grove as soon as opportunity struck, just to get back and leave the next day, and if you talk to him about his position in the grove he is actually very forthcomming. He actively holds himself back; indulging in simple hobbies because he knows what lies within his heart. He is afraid of himself and his potential (canonnically he can't control his wildshape, which is very weird for an ARCH-druid) Themes of: impostor syndrome, avoidant-based self-harm, sexual opression, loss of control, emotional regulation.

Lae'zel is a very tragic case, and one that closely resembles the stories of Shadowheart and Karlach. Her entire existence is based upon a matriachial war society allowing her to live if she proves she can be of use and that in a culture which only values brutality, dominance & service. All of that culimating in her finding out that her oh-so-beloved Queen is actually just an imposter, and that everything she has lived for up to that point is merely political propaganda created to make her, and the rest of her entire species, willing pawns in a war that has no longer bearing on their survival alone, but is fought to justify Vlaakith's (the reigning monarchs) personal ambitions. Not only is she forced to reconcile that she is turned into the thing that controlled her kind for hundreds of years, that the only cure she knows of would kill her and then on top of that, that her hopes and dreams were lies and that she is now the Nr 1 enemy of the person she has served with all her being. themes of: oppression, propaganda, casual violence, objectification, child-warfare, eternal warfare

Minthara in short, her story is about being shamed for growing up in the same scenario that Lae'zel grew up in. Lolth, the god of the Lolth-sworn drows is a crazy queen who values scheming & backstabbing so much and is so volatile that you can't know what to expect of your deeds (and i mean it; there were people who were appraised by her for scheming against her, but also those who were killed. It's almost random.) She considers Lolth to be cruel and abandoned her for the Absolute, only to then be used and abused the same way Lae'zel has. Not with promises, but erasing her memory and exposing her perceived weakness. Themes of: casual violence, violent culture, her own ambition colliding with her desire to be safe, being a pawn in a larger game.

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 3 months

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hi could you maybe do that yn is a gymnast and she falls and gets a concussion and lando takes care of her (i reqeust this because i have a concussion rn and i have to cope lol)

It Was Your Stupid Idea - LN

Ok, as I always do, I'm going to put a bit of a twist on this that involves Lando sort of being the reason for the concussion and it's going to be more that the reader is a former gymnast, like they did it when they were younger and it got serious but then they kind of just couldn't compete and keep up with people who were alongside her. It's also going to be maybe a little funnier and maybe stupider than you might've expected (at least imo)

Lando is a fan of y/n's flexibility thanks to her previous pursuing of gymnastics. He also loves seeing her try to maintain it and not lose any of her skills.

A favourite way that Lando likes to help her is by daring her to do stupid things that showcase her talent.

They're currently in Miami meaning they're in the stadium turned paddock and right now the couple are with Oscar, Alex, Alex's girlfriend Lily and Logan. All of them sort of hiding from the teams since they have some free time.

"I dare you to do some balance beam moves on the railing." Lando smirks as they sit in some of the stadium seats.

This isn't something that anyone within the group is unfamiliar with, aside from maybe Oscar and Logan since they're still pretty new to the F1 norms.

Y/n looks at the railing standing up and somewhat testing the ability to hold her weight.

"Alright, just come help for a second." She nods with the same smile that everyone knows to be as mischievous as Lando's smile. The two have a bit of a reputation of being a chaotic duo.

Lando stands up helping her up to stand on railing, not moving till she lets go first and is certain she has her balance.

"You got it?" Lando checks, he might make the stupid dares but he also wants to make sure she's not just doing it on his demand.

"Yeah, I'm good." She nods before seeming to test out her balance with a couple steps.

She stretches out her arms managing to do a few handstand forward roll then doing one backwards. Everyone has to admit she's got impressive skill, but really more than one sat watching notice Lando is in complete awe if his girlfriend.

It's actually a beautiful moment.

Or it is till in a sudden turn she loses her footing and while Lando has quick reactions, he can't move fast enough to stop her from trying to catch herself but instead hitting her head on the way down. The echo of her head hits the metal actually making the entire railing ring earning some attention from those in the paddock.

"Oh fucking hell." Y/n winces, rubbing her head while Lando rushes to his quickly paling girlfriend.

Though apparently some shock sets in because she goes nearly green. But in a moment that Lando is sure she's going to be sick, instead she passes out and sends the rest of the group into a panic.

"Shit." Lando groans before Oscar moves over mumbling that they should get her to the medical centre.

So after a very rushed trip that is full of very uncertain look as they carry his unconscious girlfriend who alarmingly hasn't stirred from the depth of sleep.

"She feel and hit her head, then turned green and passed out." Lando explains as the doctor checks her pupils with a torch and that's when life jumps back into her.

Though she nearly launches herself off the bed seconds later when she it his with a wave of nausea leaving a nurse to rush over with a bed pan since the medical centre is essentially a make shift hospital.

"Alright, sweetheart. That's ok." The nurse soothes as she rubs her back before slowly easing the young woman back as she seems to stop vomiting.

"Sorry, y/n. Is it alright if I just check a couple thing?" The doctor asks making her nod a little just shining the torch in her pupils he sees unimpressed. "You definitely have a concussion. Can you just explain to me what happened? Do you remember?"

"I was...doing beam gymnastics on the railing." Y/n sighs while looking at Lando who looks guilty but also like he's trying really hard not to laugh making her bite back a grin trying not to let a giggle trying to fight it's way. "I'm fine. I think it was just the shock."

"Y/n, you have a serious head injury. We're sending you out for scans to make sure there's no risk of a bleed or permanent damage." The doctor states sternly making both y/n and Lando's smile and withheld laughter drop.

"Don't." Y/n demands when Lando moves to go with her. "You can't leave and you know you can't."

"I'm not leaving you to go to the hospital without me when-"

"It was your stupid idea." Y/n smiles before sighing. "I'll be fine and back before you know it."

"Call me as soon as the tests are done." Lando demands earning a smile and nod before he leans over kissing her. "I'm not going anywhere till they actually take you out of here."

So Lando sticks by her till they get her in a car to the hospital. She goes in for her CT scan and after a few more tests they put her int he clear but warn her to be especially careful for the next couple weeks. Strict instructions of no gymnastics.

By the time she gets back to the paddock and to the McLaren unit, she's arriving at the end of a video they're recording.

"Oh my baby." Lando grins moving towards her and picking her up in a tight hug. "How's the head?"

"Mmm...10/10, you've never complained so far." Y/n grins earning which honestly Lando just has to laugh before she sighs. "I'm all good. No gymnastics or head for a while. Will you be able to live?"

"Stop being so filthy, did that head trauma like flip a switch I didn't know you had?" Lando laughs then sighing as he moves his hand up and feels exactly where the bump form her hitting her head is.

"Ah! Ow. It still hurts if you touch it you, bloody muppet." Y/n hisses flinching from his touch while he frowns. "Don't pull that face, I'm fine."

"Lando, we need to finish up the video." One of the marketing girls states making him look at her turning back and kissing y/n quickly.

"Stay."

Y/n salutes him watching him return to essentially finish up the video before they are given the ok to leave and Lando moves to pick her up again carrying her into the hospitality unit.

The whole weekend Lando wanted y/n in sight of him even making sure she was in a spot where he could see her from the cockpit meaning only when he was actually on track was she out of sight.

"How's your head?" Will asks looking at y/n as she sits on the seat beside him in since Jose is out on the pit wall. "He's asking Jose."

"It's fine. No headaches." She smiles while Jon pats her back. He's somewhat on babysitting duty while Lando is actually racing.

Will gives her a thumbs up and passes on the message.

Lando ends up just short of making the podium but it does mean he gets to see y/n quicker, ending up carrying her around on his back till he has to go to media and do the debrief. Thankfully neither of which takes very long so he's carrying her out of the paddock after a quick shower.

"I know I shouldn't encourage you. But I'm loving all this attention."

"Really? My girlfriend who relishes in love and attention is loving all this love and attention. I never would've guessed it." Lando hums as she gets down from his back and he opens the passenger door for her though he smiles when she leans over the top of the door and kisses him.

By the time they get to the hotel Lando makes sure they are cuddled up in the bed and while she watches the movie, he's watching her the whole time, only flicking to the movie in case she wants to talk about it like she usually does when they watch a movie together.

"You're so beautiful." Lando comments after nearly an hour of silence and it just makes her turn looking at him for a moment.

"You're beautiful too." Y/n smiles softly then pausing. "We're a pretty beautiful couple."

"Yeah, we are." Lando hum managing to move and kiss her as she lifts herself up to meet him part way.

The next two weeks are Lando fussing over her to an extent that he's' not apologetic for and y/n is not apologetic for being completely happy to have all of Lando's love and attention.

It's when she is given the ok from the doctor (on Lando's demand) and she does get to practice gymnastics again in a proper gym and he watches her very closely, acting as her spot with everything she does and checking she's alright every time she moves onto something else.

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confessioncassette · 1 month

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𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 - 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩.

𝐭𝐰 : 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : 𝐈’𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

me and the devil, when you knocked upon my door.

Just one more time.

He'll check just one more time.

Alastor's footsteps are soft over the carpet leading up to your room, the faint glow of the lanterns pass over his face. Conflicted, he hesitates at the foot of your door.

The hotel is still. Charlie and her people fast asleep. The hallways smell of fresh carpet, wood and paint due to the new renovations of the hotel after the extermination.

It should be safe enough for you, but he can't help the feeling that gnaws at the pit of his stomach.

Mortification burns through his veins. The pathetic act of cockiness nearly killed him. How could he let himself slip up so badly? His battle with Adam should have been easy, but he overestimated. He should have reminded himself that he's bound as well- and to not push a limit that's out of reach.

The one thing that boils within his chest is now something that cannot be ignored- something he refused to acknowledge for a while.

That his composure that was once tightly woven is now unraveling. His composure is slipping through his fingers.

The face of your door mocks him. He shouldn't be here.

He stares at the wood to find an answer, but he's left with nothing. Not even a shadow. And yet, everything that is within himself stares right back at him.

Taunting. Insulting.

Pathetic.

"Alastor," that familiar feminine voice echoes throughout his head, "you've really let yourself go."

He knows what lies beyond, and he knows that he cannot mess with this any longer. But no matter how hard he pushes this feeling down, he's always pulled back to where you lie.

A moth to a flame.

With a rush of anxiety, similar to a child about to do something bad and knows of the consequence, he melts into shadows and slithers into your room.

And there you are, lying peacefully as you sleep. Your body slowly rises and falls to the rhythm of your breath.

Safe.

He just needed to see it.

"You know she won't be safe for long," the voice coos, a mental hand caresses his brain, "all the things you sentiment will always die."

Alastors face remains calm, ignoring the nagging voice that unsolicitedly forces its way in his head.

"Pathetic... I expected more from you."

Drowning out the voice, Alastor is focused only on you.

You.

A leach. A bloodsucking creature that slithered your way in and sunk claws into his soul. It simultaneously confuses and angers him that a small, insignificant sinner could pry their way down into the depths of his being. It's disgusting.

It's a problem that he can no longer dance around.

He knows what he is, and he never denies it. He thrives in death, the beauty of torture, the screams he can produce from pain. The temptation of killing is always pricking his fingertips. And yet here you are, a harmless little fawn.

You never matched him in power, but the depths of your soul are intriguing. It calls to him like a song that never stops singing. That day he bound your soul was the first time he's heard such beauty. It's infuriating.

It's hard to ignore.

"You'll never be able to keep her safe... A pathetic excuse for an overlord like you will never be enough."

Red eyes scan over your sleeping form. His ear twitches with annoyance as he admires your parted soft lips, your hair splayed out over your pillow, your face peaceful and slack with slumber.

Alastor doesn't make a sound as he saunters to your bed. He wonders what lies in your dreams, if he's there with you or if you prefer to be alone. He wonders what worlds you travel to when you drift away.

His gloved hand slides over your soft bedding before gently sitting down into the plush mattress. He's careful not to wake you with the movement. He's been in your room plenty of times- it feels both foreign and familiar. Your decorations down to the pillows are soft and delicate, like you're trying to find a comfort in this hell- a perfect reflection of you.

How fitting.

Do you dream of a life outside of this inferno? Do you believe him when he tells you that you're protected? What lies beneath your smile? Do you have any inkling of his growing passion for you?

Do you wish to spend your eternity elsewhere?

"My little doe, so delicate." He murmurs as he brushes a stray hair out of your face.

She'll be safe, he reminds himself, just never let the facade falter.

"For now."

Moments like this remind him that in the midst of chaos, in the midst of his sadistic desires, that you're the one thing he needs to come back to at the end of the day.

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor

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onlybunss · 2 months

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All Yours (M)

Pairing~ vampire!jungkook x mate!reader

Warnings~ possesive!jk, mentions of marking, dom!jk, sub!o/c, pet names, , oral(f receving,m giving),, soft!jk

A/N: What happened the night before: Mine Forever

"Fuck, Jungkook," I gasped. "Shit, baby, moan my name just like that," he growled, his grip tightening on your hips. "I want to hear you scream it." "Jungkook," I gasped, feeling his fingers digging into my skin as he thrust deeper. "Please, Jungkook, don't stop," I begged, my voice shaky with desire. His movements became more urgent, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. "You're so beautiful when you say my name," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. His words only fueled the fire burning inside me, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. With each thrust, I felt myself surrendering completely to him. "I'm going to cum, Jungkook," I moaned, my body trembling with pleasure as he quickened his pace. "Yes, let go for me," he encouraged, his voice husky with desire. My release washed over me in waves, my body arching as I cried out his name in pure bliss. Suddenly, his lips moved lower, trailing kisses along my inner thighs before finally settling between my legs. The sensation of his tongue on my most sensitive spot sent me spiraling into another realm of pleasure, my hands clutching at the sheets as I moaned his name over and over again. My body quivered with each flick of his tongue, his expert ministrations driving me to the brink once more. "Jungkook fuck.." I gasped "I'm so close," I moaned. His deep voice sent shivers down my spine as he whispered, "Not yet, baby. I want to make you feel even better." As he continued to please me, I felt myself on the edge of an intense climax, my senses overwhelmed by the ecstasy he was providing. "Let go for me." With a final surge of passion, I let go completely, surrendering to the euphoria he had ignited within me. My body convulsed with pleasure as I rode out the waves of my orgasm, feeling completely consumed by the intensity of our connection. As I slowly came back down from my high, I could see the satisfaction and pride in his eyes, knowing he had brought me to such a powerful release. His touch was like nothing I had ever experienced before, leaving me craving more of his intoxicating presence. With a gentle smile, he whispered, "You are so beautiful when you let go." "No one except me will ever get to see you like this." "No one except me will ever get to see you like this," he whispered possessively, his gaze lingering on me with a sense of ownership that sent shivers down my spine. The possessiveness in his tone only fueled my desire for him, knowing that I belonged to him in that moment of pure vulnerability. "no one will ever seem like this..no one..jungkook." I gasped out still getting through my high His touch and the intensity of his gaze made me feel both exposed and desired, a combination that left me feeling simultaneously scared and exhilarated. It was a feeling I knew I would never forget, a moment of connection that would forever be etched in my memory.

As we were laying there in silence, I said, "Why did you mark me there?" His response was a soft whisper: "Because you're mine, and I want everyone to know it." The possessiveness in his tone sent shivers down my spine, solidifying the bond between us even further.

"And I wanted to see it while I fucked you numb," he said in a low, husky voice that made my heart race and my face heat up. "Jungkook," I say shyly. "What its true! How did you even see it's translusive on the skin?" He said it with a curious tone. I laughed a little "well it hurt when I was ass up for you so I checked.." "Fuck, you're a sneaky one," Jungkook chuckled, his fingers tracing lightly over the mark. "But I guess that just proves how irresistible you are to me." I couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth spreading through me at the realization of the depth of our connection. "I guess so," I replied softly, leaning into his touch. Wrapped up in each other's arms, we lay there in content silence, the lingering echoes of our passion still hanging in the air. In that moment, I knew that whatever lay ahead for us, we would face it together, bound by a love and desire that was undeniable. And as I drifted off to sleep in his embrace, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the intensity of our connection and the unspoken promises that lay between us.

#bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bangtan #bts hot #bts fanfic #bts #bts army

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notquitecanon · 4 months

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Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until-

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond? an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket.

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already."

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold."

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us."

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack.

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could.

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!"

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you. Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you.

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed. Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared.

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing."

"No promises."

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt.

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more."

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern.

____

Ambushed in the night.

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept.

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow.

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest.

And Astarion? Their target?

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger. With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion.

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart.

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over. Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying.

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion. With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body.

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt.

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief.

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name.

"SHADOWHEART!"

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared. All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night.

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled.

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort. You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you.

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart. Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first.

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake.

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them."

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out."

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed.

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you.

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste."

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier."

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something.

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered?

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-"

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed.

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood.

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape.

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying.

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you."

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse?

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him.

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy.

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck.

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with.

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile?

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being?

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it.

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl."

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?"

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you.

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation.

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

#me when I can use both literal and metaphorical vampirism as an allegory of being consumed by love.#astarion x reader #astarion x you #Astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 fanfic #Astarion self insert

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gglitch1dd · 9 months

Text

The Contract Pt5

Context: When you broke up with Katsuki, you thought it was the end for you. No marriage. No family. No white picket fence. You had spent so much time on Katsuki and now it all just fell to the wind. But what if a certain green haired hero offered you a contract, offered you the dream life of security and happiness all for the small price of being his wife? Love wasn’t in the plan but maybe it was in the fine print.

Basically: Reader dumps Katsuki and goes for Izuku.

Main Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x Reader

Warning: SMUT, NSFW, SEX! Whatever more words you need to know, Breeding kink (Guys... you should know by now. Its me), MxF, Shower Sex, Slight sub drop, Katsuki being a piece of shit, slight classism and quirk descrimination.

You walked over to the glass sliding door, leaning against it as you watched the view in front of you. Midoriya was in the pool over looking the ocean and all the islands that peaked out from the depths not too far away. It was an Instagram winning view that you couldn’t help but take in yourself. The sun was setting and everything was in a beautiful array of gold, pink and purples. You smiled at the sight of him as he seemed almost peaceful in essence.

The both of you quite literally had to go to the airport after your wedding, which you found the most hilarious thing ever, to walk into the airport in your puffy wedding dress, escorted into the VIP entrance and taking to the private jet in different way. The both of you already had your bags packed and sent to the airport earlier which you found was the best option.

Midoriya clearly did not hesitate one bit to spend on the whole wedding experience. You didn’t even know that the commission allowed him to use a private jet just for your honeymoon. You didn’t want to question it because, getting served champagne and having all the ample leg room was something you were grateful for. Although, much to your confession, all you wanted to do was sleep the moment you were out of that dress which Midoriya shared the sentiment. You both effectively passed out on a bed that was criminally soft for being stuck on a plane.

Next thing you knew it was morning and the both of you were landing at the destination that you had both chosen for you honeymoon. Or at least, this part of it. Midoriya had planned the whole thing, a whole two-week affair of the two of you travelling God knows where, but you were happy to take the break away from everything in Japan.

So the two of you immediately went to check in, and the rest of the day was filled with exploring and strolling nearby where you were staying. Honestly you were glad for the rather calm day that he had planned out for today. Which was how you ended up here, watching him look out at the scenery with his scarred back to you.

Deciding to take a chance, you pushed yourself off the door and carefully walked over to the pool. You carefully moved to slip off the gown you had on that concealed the swimsuit you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to wear today. You were slow as you slipped in, not wanting to rush into the surprisingly warm water. Once you were in, you made your way over to Midoriya. You assumed a place next to him, swimming to put your arms on the edge, resting your head on your hands.

The both of you just existed next to each other for a moment, taking it all in. You let out a stuttered breath, opening your mouth to speak.

“Did we really just do that?” He asked you, a soft disbelieving smile on his face. He didn’t look at you, keeping his eyes on the view.

You looked at him for a moment before letting out a soft amused scoff. “According to the state of Japan.” You answered back.

Midoriya let out a low chuckle at your answer. He looked down at the silver wedding band on his left hand. He wondered how come one object could feel so heavy and yet something so exciting all at the same time. He pulled on a small smile before turning over to you.

“The wedding was beautiful by the way.” You told him with a soft whisper, looking up at him for just a moment, before settling back on the view. “Really it was… it was amazing. I honestly don’t think I deserved so much.”

“You deserved more than that.” You hummed only half believing in it, but giving him a smidge of a smile nonetheless. Midoriya frowned slightly at the look on your face. He could tell it wasn’t full or entirely real or believing of what he had said. Midoriya moved closer to you, placing a hand on your elbow. Slowly you turned to look up at him, putting your arms back in the water. “I’m serious, Y/N.” He told you, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you, his eyes holding nothing but pure honesty.

You looked up at him, your eyes trapped on his, them almost sucking you in entirely. “Your wedding vows… did you mean them?”

Midoriya answered without hesitation. “Of course. Nothing I did yesterday do I regret or lied about.” He answered you back seriously.

You stared up at him. You nodded your head, closing your eyes for a moment. You took a second, before opening your eyes again. You looked back up at him with a small smirk. You leaned forward with a glare up at him. “So you putting your mouth in places that were clearly not where a garter is located wasn’t a lie?”

It took Midoriya a moment before looking away from you with a huge smirk on his face. He let out an amused chuckle in amusement to what you had just asked. He was half hoping you would bring it up again but also a part of him was a bit worried he had stepped a bit too far. However, with the look on your face, he half regretted not doing it earlier. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” He said smugly as he folded his arms over his large chest, his large, scarred hands gripping his biceps.

“Oh? You don’t?” You asked, not believing a single word that came out of his mouth. Midoriya nodded, only affirming what he had just said. You looked him up and down and nodded your head, looking away from him. “Yah, okay.” You stated moving to head towards the steps of the pool. Midoriya quickly put a hand to your elbow, stopping you. You looked down at his hand on you, raising an eyebrow.

Midoriya swallowed before shrugging. “Why don’t you remind me?”

You felt the heat inside your abdomen reignite inside you. It was a dangerous feeling. Something you kept reminding yourself that you couldn’t be feeling. You reminded yourself that every night. You reminded that to yourself everytime you willed yourself not to sink your fingers deep inside you at the thought of them somehow becoming thicker and much more scarred than your own. “Tell me, Izuku…” You started as you moved to walk out of the pool. “Do you have muscle memory?”

Midoriya was stick for a moment, not knowing whether you were being genuine or not. However, when he saw your heated gaze look back at him as you exited one step at a time out of the pool, he knew you were. He didn’t even try to hide it as his eyes looked over your body watching the water droplets on your skin as you exited out the pool. His shameless eyes moved back up to your face. “I would like to think so.” He smirked.

You nodded your head. “Why don’t we test that out, yah?” You offered.

You didn’t bother to look back to check if he was following you back inside, all you knew was that you were heading towards the shower and the sound of wet footsteps followed after you easily. You walked into the master bedroom, not caring of the water you were leaving in your wake as you moved to open the door.

“You know…” You heard his voice start as you moved to turn on the shower. You turned back to look at him as he leaned against the doorway himself. “This does strain our agreement.” He reminded you. “You know… keeping things professional.” He motioned between the two of you.

You stood holding onto the door of the shower as you looked back at him. “I mean… friends can be married and have sex, right?”

Midoriya kicked himself off the doorway, nodding his head along with your statement. “Of course.” He stated it almost as if it was ridiculous that you even asked such a question.

“I… I mean…” You started to realise Midoriya was getting awfully close. “We…” He stood right in front of you, leaning down closer to your face. “We are married.”

“We are.” He breathed out.

You both didn’t say anything, your eyes on his lips and his on yours. “Izuku-”

You didn’t get to finish your statement as Midoriya pulled you against him, wrapping his arm around you and using the other to cup the back of your head and kiss you. You melted against his warm body, the feeling of your body against his made you feel warm as your heart picked up in your chest. Your hands moved over his chest, up his neck to thread through his hair, running through wet tousled green curls. A shiver ran down his spine as your actions pulled a groan out of his chest.

“Y/N.” He moaned against your lips, pushing you into the shower, your back against the wall, with him cornering you in. You ignored the warm water that cascaded down the both of you, only increasing the heat between you and around you.

You whimpered as you felt building need between your legs. It was an aching feeling that you wanted him to solve, that you waned him to get rid of. Your hands clawed at his back, running down scarred skin moving down towards his swimming trunks and pulling at the offending piece of clothing. You finally separated from his lips, gasping for air as you arched your back. You tilted your head up, trying to find fresh air but left out a moan as his mouth moved to suck at your neck. You tugged at his shorts. “Off.” You breathed out. Your hand finding its way to grab onto his hard cock that wasn’t shy of making itself known to you through his shorts.

Midoriya groaned, loving the feeling of your hand moving up and down his clothed cock. Midoriya let out a chuckle at your word. He moved your hand away from his crotch up his abs. As much as he wanted to allow you to feel him to your hearts content, he had a mission to prove. He moved back up to your neck, placing a kiss on a sensitive area making you suck in a breath. “Let me stretch you out first.” He whispered against your skin.

The green haired man moved down to his knees, moving to his hands to the band of the bottoms of your bikini. His green eyes flicked up to you, dark and lidded in lust and yet asking for permission. You smirked and nodded your head. Midoriya let out a breath, fingers gripping your bottoms tighter and pulling them down your legs. Slipping them off of you easily. With your bottoms out of the way, Midoriya was finally left face to face with your sex.

He took a moment, his heart thumping out of his chest as he took you in. He swallowed down hard before flicking his eyes up to you again. Slowly Midoriya moved to take your leg, moving it over onto his shoulder as he moved you closer towards him, not breaking eye contact with you. You felt like you could barely breathe as you looked down at him.

Midoriya moved up, licking up your slit. You felt your thighs shiver with the remembrance of yesterday over that exact same spot. At the stutter in your hips and thighs, he couldn’t help but grin as Midoriya dove in to the beautiful thing that was your sex. His tongue flicked your clit making you whine at the action, a throbbing sensation in your sex. His mouth was heavenly against you, moving to explore and taste every inch of you that you could barely handle yourself.

You were squirming viciously and Midoriya loved to see it. He loved to see you like this, his arm moving to grip you tightly in place, not allowing your hips to escape him at all. With his free hand, Midoriya moved his hand up your thigh to your lips. He pressed inside you, thick fingers bullying their way inside you instantly making you moan. Scarred fingers slowly twisted and fucked into you, opening you up.

It was borderline sinful how good he was making you feel, how much he had you wrapped around his fingers. A groan came out from his chest at the way you squeezed his fingers, your velvety cunt wrapped around his fingers. He loved the feeling of your sex on his fingers. The thought of it wrapped around his cock made him groan against your clit making you gasp.

“Izuku!” You moaned loudly, one hand moving through his dark wet tousled curls. His hair was darker when it was wet and something you found too sexy for words at the sight. “You’re doing so good. Fuck- your… your fingers…” You breathed out, moving your hands up to grab at your breasts, ripping the top of your bikini off of you, throwing it to God knows where. Midoriya smirked as he moved his tongue up to your clit making you shoot up with a squeak as he began to suck and play with his tongue. His fingers curved within you and you instantly felt the coil within you tighten. “OH MY GOD! Right there!” You cried as your hips began to stutter against his face. “Right there, please!” You sounded so desperate almost as if you would have killed for him not to move.

Midoriya nodded, a glint in his eyes, a silent goal of making you cup on his fingers. Midoriya only increased the pace of his fingers, thrusting his fingers in and out of you, hitting that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. You gasped as you were so close. Your grip on his hair turned harsh. Midoriya only moaned at the slight pain as he curried on his efforts.

From the vibrations of his moan against your clit, your orgasm crashed down on you hard and fast. You were sure you lost feeling to your legs but Midoriya quickly grasped you with two arms, holding you up as you came down hard. You cried out, grinding your crotch against his mouth in pleasure. Midoriya sucked and lapped up every single drop that came out of you. He thought himself in a place akin to heaven. He couldn’t think of being in a place that wasn’t between your thighs right now.

Well… maybe with his cock inside you instead.

Finally you gasped as you finally came down from your high. You leaned your back against the tiles allowing the water to wash down your skin. Without even a second more for you to catch your breath, you found Midoriya stand up and pick you up by your thighs. You let out a surprised shout but quickly wrapped your arms around his neck as you did so.

You moved to kiss him, your hand against his cheek as you kept him as close as possible to you. You straightened up with a gasp as you felt his cock press against your cunt. You looked down at him half lidded in need. Midoriya let out an amused smirk but held you all the same. You nodded your head, holding him tightly. With your go ahead, he guided his cock inside you.

You both moaned at the same time, holding each other tightly as you felt his cock stretch you out. He was much thicker than you thought and it only made you squeeze him tighter. Midoriya moved to kiss your jaw, whispering sweet nothings into your ear to try and get you to loosen up around him. “Such a good girl. Your taking my cock so well. Come on, you can take more can’t you?” You whined as he slowly lowered you down more inches making a shiver run down your back as you grip on him tightened. “There you go. That’s a good girl.” He praised you effortlessly.

The pleasurable burn of your cunt having to stretch around his cock to accommodate him made you moan. Finally he had everything inside you and you took a moment, trying to breathe through it and just enjoy the full feeling. He felt so good inside you, it made you grip onto him tighter. Midoriya had his eyes closed for a moment at the wonderful feeling of your vice of a cunt. You felt like heaven and if he died pushing against your cervix, he wouldn’t mind at all. He gripped you tightly, thick fingers bruising your ass and thighs as he held you up.

You kissed his thick neck, trying to let every freckle you saw on his skin, get touched by your lips. You moved up his neck, against his jaw to his ear. You fiddled with the baby hairs at the base of his neck as you had your lips against his ear. “Izuku… fuck me.” You moved to face him once again, looking down at him as you held onto him. Midoriya looked up into your eyes, his heart beating out of his chest. He nodded his head as he leaned up to kiss. You put your lips against him, wanting the warmth that came with his mouth against yours.

Slowly you felt him move you up and down his cock. You sucked in a breath at the feeling of the head of his cock nudge that spot inside you. Your stuttered breaths were right against his skin making him smirk at your reaction. Slowly he fucked up into you, the warm water cascading down your bodies and between the both of you. You couldn’t help but find the whole scenario heavily erotic.

You gasped as Midoriya slowly increased his pace, fucking up into you. The slap of your bodies against each other made you hold your breath. You wanted to memorise every vein and every curvature of his cock inside you. You didn’t want to lose the feeling of him inside you. He filled you so deliciously that it almost as if you were whole when you were both like this. You were gasping for air as you moaned.

“Fuck, Izuku! Just like that! Harder!” You cried, your eyes closed in pleasure as you moved up and down his cock as best as you could with your legs wrapped around him. Midoriya didn’t hesitated to fuck into you harder, forcing you further down his cock making his cock nudge that spot inside you that made you scream. “IZUKU!” You shouted.

Midoriya was breathless, barely able to think other than moving you up and down his cock. He couldn’t think past the fact that he was balls deep inside you. He groaned at how perfect you felt around him, how perfect you were for him. “Y/N…” He groaned. “You feel so fucking perfect.” His grip on you tightened. “So beautiful. So amazing… Fuck~”

You were practically jumping up and down in his arms on top of his cock. You were so close. So fucking close. You couldn’t breathe with all this hot air around you, your entire existence condensed into this moment. The coil inside you was going to snap and with the way he was fucking you in such earnest you were surprised you hadn’t come yet. “Izuku… inside!” You requested, not wanting him anywhere else. “Cum inside.” You requested.

You didn’t have to tell him twice. Midoriya felt a rush down his spine at the thought of coming inside you. With a thrust down onto his cock you gasped. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as your thighs shook as ecstasy washed over your body. Your nails dug into his skin as you came around his cock. Midoriya groaned at the delicious feeling of your pussy milking his cock. With a final thrust inside you, keeping the both of you conjoined, he came inside you. Midoriya let out a stuttered moan as he held onto you. You whined at the warm feeling inside you.

Both you and Midoriya held onto each other for dear life not wanting to let go. Midoriya then noticed you weren’t breathing properly. You were gasping for breath. Quickly he switched off the water in the shower and put his back to the wall of the shower, lowering the both of you to the floor. He put his hands to the side of your head, forcing you to look at him. “Breathe for me baby. Breathe for me.” He instructed you. You nodded taking in a deep breath with him, holding it for a few seconds, hiccups stuttering out of your chest, before letting it out. He nodded with an adoring smile letting you breathe. You closed your eyes, leaned to put your head in the crook of his neck, relaxing for a moment in his warm embrace. You held onto him for dear life not wanting to let go. Midoriya wrapped his arms around you, a hand to the back of your head as he kept you right where you needed to be. And that was with him.

You motioned for Angelica-Nina to come towards you. The black fluffy rabbit hopped over to your bedside, jumping up onto the bed. You cooed over to her as she hopped over to you. She snuggled close to you, positioning herself close enough to get pet by you. You chuckled as you pet down her ears, her nose twitching. Midoriya and you were finally back home for another two weeks of staying together in your apartment. Midoriya was enjoying all the time off away from hero work and you were enjoying all the lazy time too. However, Angelica-Nina did not appreciate getting left at home with Inko without the two of you. She had refused to jump into Midoriya’s hands and had down right thumped at the sight of him. It required a lot of attention from Midoriya for her not to be angry at him anymore.

Said bunny hopped on top of you with little hesitation. Midoriya was spooned up behind you. His arms were wrapped around you as you both slept in for the morning. Angelica-Nina however, did not approve of such behaviour. She hopped onto him, moving over close to his face. Suddenly without warning she thumped his cheek.

“Ow.” He let out lowly. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before opening one eye. He chuckled and moved to give her one of his hands and scratched by the scruff of her neck. “Good morning to you too, princess.” He smiled up at her. She stopped her little tantrum, feeling content at his touch once more.

You giggled quietly at how much he was such a sucker for his rabbit. She had him wrapped around his little finger and it was down right amusing. He picked her up and put her back on the bed by your side, but continued to pet her ears down. “We should probably get up now, Izuku. It’s nearly eleven.”

Midoriya closed his eyes again but moved to kiss your neck. “Too early.” He groaned out.

You chuckled as you turned your head to face him. “You’ve gotten lazy, Mr Number One.” You tapped his nose.

Midoriya hummed with a tired smirk on his face. “Then let me be lazy.” He mumbled as he moved closer to your lips, placing his own against yours. You smiled into the kiss, putting your hand to cup his cheek. He pushed back into the kiss, shifting to allow you to turn back onto the bed. He kept kissing you, moving to get on top of you. You groaned into the kiss, moving to wrap your arms around his neck. Then you-

Thump.

Both you and Midoriya turned to Angelica-Nina who twitched her nose as she looked at the both of you.

Thump.

Midoriya and you chuckled at her little tantrums. Placing a final kiss to your neck he hummed. “Don’t leave.” He whispered against your skin.

You giggled. “Okay.”

Questioning why he even got a rabbit in the first place, Midoriya got up and out of bed with a bit yawn. He shook his messy curls, before moving over to scoop Angelica-Nina into his arms. “Okay, girl. Your probably hungry, that’s why you have your ears in a twist.” He grumbled. She stayed in his arms, preferring to be carried around like the princess she was treated to be.

You giggled as you watched the two of them leave. You couldn’t stop the smile on your face. Midoriya was often than not now, insatiable when it came to you and you couldn’t help but love the attention. You couldn’t help but indulge him, especially when he looked at you as if you put the sun in the sky and often kissed your skin like you were made of gold and diamonds.

The sound of your phone vibrating brought you back to reality as you looked over to your side table. You picked up your phone to see Denki flashing on the screen. You raised an eyebrow. You leaned back in your warm bed as you answered the video call.

Suddenly the screen of your phone showed the image of one of your best friends, his yellow vivid hair shining in the sunlight as he wore sunglasses and was somewhere you couldn’t recognise. “I got her on!” You heard him shout to someone behind the phone before focusing on you. “You look cosy.”

You chuckled. “Hey, Denks and indeed I am.” You told him honestly with a nod of your head.

“So, how’s life being Mrs Midoriya?” He asked with a smug smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“It’s…” You paused for a second, thinking of an answer. You sighed. “It’s amazing so far.” You told him honestly. “Izuku and I have been enjoying our honeymoon so everything has been great.”

Denki opened his mouth to say swomething but then Mina cut in from the background. “Girl! Remember, you can’t give birth to a honeymoon baby, it’s too soon!”

You felt heat crawl up your neck making you roll your eyes. “Tell Mina that’s not going to happen and not to bud into my sex life.”

“I’m just saying!” You heard her shout. Then you saw the screen changed as the phone was taken away from Denki suddenly making the electric prohero let out a confused shout. Suddenly you found yourself in the hands of Sero Hanta and Mina who sat against him with a coffee in hand. “If you wanna have little green haired babies be my guess, but I aint letting you fall into the endless rabbit hole that is Midoriya Izuku’s sex life.” She lectured you with a knowing nod, her husband nodding his head along with her. “If he still has the same libido as he did end of high school-”

“Which he still does!” You heard Denki shout from somewhere in the background.

Mina motioned to him before looking back down at you. “Good luck.”

You gave her a pointed look before releasing a sigh. “Morning, Hanta.”

“Hola, Y/N.” He raised a hand with a smile. “You both still alive?”

Before you could answer, Midoriya stole your phone earning a gasp from you. He held your phone in his hand as he set down a tray of breakfast in front of you, instantly shifting your attention. “Alive and well, thank you Hanta.” Midoriya responded.

“Oh, its Izuku. Hi Izuku!” Mina waved.

The phone was once again snatched into someone else’s hands. “HEY!” You heard Mina shout.

“Deku.” You paused as you raised your cup of coffee to your mouth at the voice that had just spoken. Midoriya let out an annoyed sigh at the sight of Bakugou Katsuki. Bakugou glared over at Midoriya with a usual scowl on his face. “You didn’t respond to my message.”

“Um… yah.” He said it with an obvious tone. “I’m on my honeymoon, Kacchan.” Midoriya reminded him. “I’m not answering anyone who isn’t my mom, my wife or my lawyers and you don’t fall into any of those categories. I’m hanging up now.”

“Deku! You know that the case is important. You know damn well I’d rather meet without you but…” You could practically hear the pain in his voice of having to need Midoriya for something. “The courts won’t sign off on it without your written consent and approval before next week.”

Midoriya frowned at the mention of what was needed. He let out a sigh as he closed his eyes, moving a hand to his brows for a second. He didn’t want to work right now, not when he was still on leave and would rather spend the time with you. Midoriya thought of a solution, trying to figure out what was the best course of action.

You put down your mug and moved to kneel on the bed next to where Midoriya was so that Bakugou could see your face. “Katsuki.”

Bakugou paused for a second at the sound of you saying his name. “Y/N…” He breathed out.

“Whatever you need, you can come over and get whatever it is signed.” You told him bluntly, before falling back on your ass.

Midoriya turned towards you in surprise for a moment. “But Y/N, I don’t want to do that to you. We’re on leave and-”

You put a hand up. “It’s important Izuku and it isn’t an everyday thing. It won’t last long and then its over and done with.” Midoriya hesitated but you gave him a smile and a nod of your head. “Don’t worry.” You told him softly. “It’s okay.”

The green haired hero was quiet for a moment before turning back to the phone. “Come over at 9 Kacchan and bring Shoto with you.” Not waiting for a response, Midoriya hung up the phone. He looked back over to you as you looked back up at him. He let out a sigh as his shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry, love. I really didn’t want any sort of work during this time.”

You chuckled as you reached up and took his hand in yours. “It’s okay, Izu. Now come on, lets eat some breakfast, okay?”

Midoriya smiled as he leaned forward towards you. “Actually,” Without warning towards you, Midoriya grabbed your legs and pulled you forward towards him making you let out a scream. He put his hands over you in the sheets as he caged you underneath him with a smirk. He put one hand up to your chin, keeping you looking up at him. A smirk pulled to his lips. “I think breakfast is right in front of me.” Midoriya lowers his lips down to your neck making you giggle.

“Izuku,” You ran a hand through his curly hair, keeping your hands on him. “I mean actually breakfast.” You point out, ignoring the building feeling in your abdomen.

He looked up at you with a furrowed eyebrows as he seemed downright offended. “Don’t judge my breakfast.” He frowned with a low grumble.

Bakugou looked around the apartment with a raised eyebrow as he looked at your new home with Midoriya. You and Midoriya had been living here before you got married for around three months but still Bakugou could tell the new apartment smell when he saw it. That and he was never invited in so it wasn’t much a surprise. Midoriya stood in front of the group of three men with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants with a gentle smile on his face. “Welcome.” He said with a relaxed smile.

Kirishima easily got distracted by the bunny on the couch that seemed rather indifferent about his presence or the other two new presence in the room. Bakugou glanced over at his boyfriend’s tilted head as he watched the bunny chew on a piece of parsley. He rolled his eyes with a soft amused scoff before looking back at Midoriya. He raised an eyebrow unimpressed at Midoriya’s attire. “Looking rather casual, don’t you think Deku?”

Midoriya let out a soft sigh. “I’m on leave, Kacchan and this is my home. I should be bothered by you just being here.”

Bakugou opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted the large redhead in the room. “Thank you for allowing us to come here, Izuku.” He stated as he looked over to Midoriya.

Shoto hummed with a nod of his head, not looking around all that much as he had been in the apartment before unlike the other two. “I apologise for interrupting your leave. If there was another way of going around it, I would make sure we went that way, but the government is pretty strict on such cases.” He explained monotonously.

Midoriya gave Shoto a smiled. “I am aware, Shoto. It’s alright.” Midoriya then flicked his gaze over to Kirishima, his warmer expression slipping as he looked rather indifferent towards the redhead. Kirishima picked up on it instantly. He could feel the way Midoriya went colder at the sight of him. “It was my wife who decided that you all could come here, Eijiro. I just allowed it.” He explained. He motioned for them all to follow him to his study.

Bakugou set his eyes on Midoriya, as he followed the Number One hero. “Sounds rather controlling.” He let out lowly as he looked around the hallway as they followed him.

Midoriya glanced back at him. “Y/N and I co-own this apartment. I can decide who enters and so can my wife.” He explained. He opened the door to his study and walked inside, leading the other three men in.

Midoriya easily cut to the chase and the four of them quickly got into a discussion of the case they were working on. It was a bit of an ugly case, a villain who had done more than a few unsavoury things and had murdered enough people for the state to want justice. He was defeated by the heroes and easily put into Tartarus. However, the heroes were given some power over the case and were now allowed, due to the hard efforts of Midoriya and other heroes, to work in the cases as well in the judicial system and follow them there and not just leave it all up to the police.

You really didn’t know what all the buzz was about, but you did now that you had guests over and you also luckily knew all of them well enough to get them refreshments.

You knocked first before opening the door some more with your body. You kept your eyes glued to Midoriya first before sweeping across the three other men in the room. “Evening, I brought drinks.” You spoke sweetly. Midoriya looked up from where he was seated. Todoroki sat to his left while Bakugou and Kirishima sat to his right, all eyes turned to you. Midoriya’s expression softened at the sight of you. You walked in with a tray in hand.

Bakugou and Kirishima tried not to focus on how you looked in the silk short kimono robe you wore as you walked in. You were clearly comfortable and didn’t take much mind in what you were wearing and neither did Todoroki (to be fair, you and Midoriya could walk around naked, and Todoroki wouldn’t bat an eye). However, Bakugou tried not to focus on the way the silk went over your breasts and Kirishima tried to keep his eyes away from your exposed legs as you set the tray down.

You walked over to where Midoriya sat. You put your hand on his shoulder. “Y/N, you didn’t have to.” He stated with a hand over your own as he looked up at you.

You put a finger to his chin, tilting his head up as he looked up at you. “I didn’t mind, Izuku. Not at all.” You remind him as you place a kiss to his lips making him smile.

“Thank you.” He said in gratitude as he moved to kiss the knuckles of your hand, “We’ll be done soon but you don’t have to stay up.”

You chuckle letting go of him and turning to leave. “Alright.” You waved a hand to Todoroki. “Goodbye Shoto.”

Todoroki had since picked up the cup of tea you had made him. He bowed his head. “Bye, Y/N. Thank you for the tea.”

You waved a hand down showing him it was no problem. You stood at the door with a nod towards Bakugou and Kirishima before leaving once more, leaving the door how you found it.

Bakugou reached down and picked up the glass that he knew belonged to him. You had made him a Manhattan. He moved to glass to his lips, taking a sip. It almost felt nostalgic and borderline painful. You had made it just how he liked it, just how you used to make it for him. Kirishima picked up the beer that you had left him, surprisingly the same brand he liked.

Midoriya took a sip of his Moscato. He smiled. “So… court is on what date?” He asked clearly in a lighter mood after your visit.

It took thirty minutes more before they were all done their business and Midoriya could finally get rid of the other three proheroes. Although he couldn’t wait to get back to you, he was however glad that everything was sorted, and he wouldn’t have to worry about it when he got back.

Todoroki was the first to leave his study, then Kirishima but the redhead paused when he noticed that Bakugou didn’t move. He looked back at the blond, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. Bakugou raised a hand. “I’m coming, Eijiro.” He spoke, although his crimson eyes were on Midoriya. Kirishima had an uneasy feeling but left towards the staircase with Todoroki.

Midoriya stayed seated as he looked over at Bakugou. Poison met blood. Green met red. The two didn’t say anything for a minute and yet kept eye-contact. It was painfully tense in the room. “Well…” Midoriya started as he folded his arms over his chest. “Say what you want to say, before it chokes you.”

Bakugou looked down at the glass in his hand already finished and yet he missed every drop of it. He wished he could drink it again and again, because it reminded him of you in the most painful and yet beautiful of ways. His grip tightened around the glass. “You know she’ll never love you, right?” He looked up at an emotionless Midoriya. “Not as much as she loved me.”

The green haired man let out a sigh as he rubbed his temple. “Are you done?” He asked.

“She said it herself.” He leaned over and put the glass on the tray. He flicked his gaze back to Midoriya. “It’s quite a shame she had to lower herself down to you.”

Midoriya furrowed his eyebrows as he tilted his head to the side. “And how exactly am I on a lower standard than you?” He asked motioning to the blond.

“You quirkless, villain’s bastard.” Bakugou immediately noticed the way Midoriya stiffened, and he couldn’t help but broaden his smirk seeing that he struck a nerve. “I bet you didn’t tell her about that, now did you?”

You stopped outside the cracked open door. You had just wanted to go and get water from the kitchen when you heard only the sounds of Bakugou and Midoriya speaking. You paused as you leaned slightly more towards the door.

“Tell her about what?” Midoriya asked, one hand gripping the cushioned seat a bit harder than he would like to admit.

Bakugou leaned back nonchalantly. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at the green haired man in front of him. “You really want to put her through the same stress you put your mother through?” He asked with a raise of an eyebrow. “Y/N wants kids, and you are really going to give her so much unnecessary stress by giving her a quirkless child who’s just like you?” He motioned to Midoriya who’s jaw was tense, but he stayed silent. “You were lucky, Izuku but that’s all it is. Luck. You weren’t born privileged or lucky enough to even have a quirk. You received a hand-me-down quirk from All Might and nothing more. If it wasn’t for One for All you would have nothing. The Midoriya name would mean nothing.”

Midoriya scowled his eyes looking down away from Bakugou. “Shut up, Kacchan.” He stated simply but dripping in venom.

Bakugou shifted forward. “Without all the help you received from All Might, all the government officials just wanting to get close to the new barer of One for All, you would have been nothing. Nothing but a quirkless kid from Shizuoka with stupid dreams.”

“Shut up, Kacchan.”

“Did you even tell her that Midoriya is your mother’s name? Tell her about your so called father who is infamously known for killing thousands of lives? Did you tell her about that?” Bakugou asked amusedly with a tilt of his head. “Did you tell her about how easy it would be for one more bad accident to happen to you causing you to retire from hero work indefinitely because of how reckless you are with your body? Did you tell her about how easy it would be to ruin her because of you.”

Midoriya stood up abruptly. He pointed to the door, his eyes dark. “Get out.” He whispered lowly, trying so hard not to lunge himself at the blond. His hair sparked slightly but he tried to keep his composure. “Get out of my apartment, right now.”

“Why, does it bother you that I’m telling you the truth?” Bakugou asked standing up to match Midoriya. “Face it, Izuku. I’m right.”

“I don’t fucking care what you say to me, Katsuki, but I won’t allow you to insult my family name.”

“Because you won’t accept the truth.”

“Because you’re talking about my family, Katsuki! Not just me but my mother and my wife!” He shouted over at the blond as he put a hand to his chest, pupils small as he felt threatened by Bakugou. “Do you honestly think I would stand here and let you disregard me? Disregard who my family is? Y/N is part of that as well and I will not let you disrespect us by talking ill about our family.”

Bakugou let out an amused chuckle. “Your family? Your family! She was supposed to be a Bakugou. If it wasn’t for my mistake, she wouldn’t even entertain you, Izuku!” He said taking a step closer with a sneer on his face.

Midoriya let out a cynical laugh. “My God, you are so delusional!” He shook his head almost in amused shock at Bakugou’s words.

“You know nothing about her! Bet you can’t even please her right.”

Midoriya flicked his gaze over to Bakugou. His eyes darkened, something in them that wasn’t supposed to be in the eyes of a hero. He lifted up a hand and pointed it to Bakugou. “Katsuki, If I hear another word about my wife,” He spoke calmly as he looked at the blond unwaveringly. “coming out of your mouth-”

“You’re gonna do what, Izuku? Tell me? What are you going to do?” Bakugou taunted amusedly.

“I am going to kill you.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Uh huh, yah-”

Midoriya pulled Bakugou in by his shoulder before holding on to the back of the blond’s neck, forcing him down to look up at him. Midoriya didn’t smile as he stared down at Bakugou unblinkingly. Not even a sliver of hesitation in his eyes as he looked down at the blond. Bakugou paused as he looked up at Midoriya, a dark veil over his face as he stared down at him.

Bakugou let out a scoff, ignoring his fast beating heart. “Like father like son, huh?”

Midoriya blinked. He rolled his eyes, heavily annoyed. He held the blond tightly in his grasp and started to pull him over to the door. “How about I escort you out.” Midoriya wasn’t suggesting it as he entered the empty hallway. He ignored a grumbling Bakugou as he went downstairs and apologised to Todoroki and Kirishima for the wait. He let the three men out of the apartment before closing the door behind them.

Midoriya took a moment, not to think, not to breathe. He held his breath and closed his eyes. He only took a breath again when his body forced him to. Frustrated tears lined his eyes that he quickly brushed away.

A squeak took his attention as a sleepy Angelica-Nina looked up at him from her place on the couch. Her nose twitching. Midoriya put a sad smile on his face. He brushed down her ears, picking her up to put against his chest. He walked over and placed her down onto her bunny bed where she preferred to sleep. He let her be before moving back to his study to clear up.

It was another ten minutes before Midoriya walked into your shared room. He made his way into the covers behind you. Right before he could pull you in, you turned around to face him. The room was dark but without the curtains drawn, you could see him pretty easily with the lights from the city. You wiggled into his arms as you looked up at him.

Midoriya let out a soft sigh. “I thought I told you that you shouldn’t stay up?” He asked in a low whisper.

You hummed. “I wanted to wait for you.” You answered him back honestly.

You took a moment before raising your hands to his face. You moved to lie on top of him, putting your hands to cup his face as you looked down at him. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Izuku…” You spoke sweetly. You could tell he wasn’t okay. You could feel it and you didn’t want to confess to him that you knew why. “Izuku, honey, what’s wrong?” He closed his eyes trying not to breakdown in front of you. You shushed him sweetly as you placed a kiss to his cheek. “Shh… it’s okay.” You whispered to him. “I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered back up to you. “Kach-… Katsuki…” You perked up at the fact that Midoriya was using Bakugou’s first name. “Katsuki just got under my skin. I’m sorry for acting so poorly, I should be stronger than this.” He said lowly as he closed his eyes turning his head away from you.

You frowned at his apology. “Izuku, don’t apologise for being hurt, it’s natural. It shows that you’re human.” You reminded him, dragging your hand through his hair. “Did… did he say something about us?” Midoriya opened his eyes as he looked back up to you. He nodded his head. You frowned. You reached over to grab his hand off your hip as you brought your conjoined hands in front of him. “You see this?” You asked him. You had joined your left hand with his own. You both still had your wedding rings on. “This is us. There is nothing that Katsuki can do that can change this. I am a Midoriya, I am married to you. You, Midoriya Izuku…” You smiled dearly as you smiled down at him. “Wonderfully hard working, loving, kind and charismatic you. Whatever Katsuki said just know its probably shit and he’s still pouting like a baby because he lost, and you won and he doesn’t like that. It’s you and me, Izuku. You and me.”

Midoriya took a moment to look up at you, his pupils big in the darkness as he did so. He lifted his hands to go over yours. You noticed a glossy look in his emerald eyes. He let out a stuttered breath as he closed his eyes. “God, I love you.” Your eyebrows raised in surprise at his words. He opened his eyes again to look at you with a soft smile. “I’m drowning in your existence, and I fear you’ll try and save me.”

You were silent for a moment, not wanting to regret this decision, and you prayed you wouldn’t. He leaned down to put your noses against each other, lips brushing each other. “I don’t think I can save you, Izuku.”

“How come?” He asked, moving to wrap his arms around your body.

You closed your eyes as you leaned in.

“Because I’m drowning too.”

-Glitch1d

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