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wreckingtickles · 5 months ago

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1 Hour in Tickle Hell!

Sir Nighteye doesn't appreciate Izuku endangering himself, and Mirio takes it upon himself to punish him as customary for their agency...

Characters: Lee Izuku, ler Mirio

Words: 7,757

Big thanks to @sleepysheepytea for letting me use her wonderful leezuku piece as a preview image! If you're reading this, you probably have already, but if not, go give her a like!

Intense tickles under the cut!

“Reckless endangerment! You act like your life is of no consequence! But if you die, who is going to save everyone?”

That was the fifth rhetorical question Sir Nighteye asked of a bashful Midoriya as he paced up and down his office, dressing down the stiff teenager.

“Self harm! You risk permanent damage every time you push your Quirk too far, and if your disregard for your own health wasn’t a serious enough matter, what if you incapacitate yourself on the field? What if you had forced Mirio to choose between saving a civilian and you?!”

Neither was looking at the other, Nighteye yelling at the walls as if he couldn’t even bear to look at his intern at that moment, while his words weighed down Midoriya’s gaze and glued it to the floor. Deku understood everything the hero was saying, he realized he was right, but somehow he also knew that he’d make the same choices every single time.

Nighteye’s furious steps halted as he lowered his voice, “And worst of all…” he began before dramatically turning to point an accusatory finger at Izuku, “Your smile wavered! Who is going to believe that there is any hope if they feel like their rescuer is lying to them?!”

Once again, the intern said nothing. All Might’s former sidekick was going to kick him out of the agency, and even as he dreaded that verdict, part of him seemed to think he’d done nothing wrong. Was he really that arrogant?

“For all these infractions, I sentence you…”

Deku closed his eyes as if in preparation for a hard blow to the head.

“...to one hour in Tickle Hell.”

Wait, what? Izuku dared to look up. Nighteye’s impenetrable expression gave nothing away except his usual earnestness. Was that really it?

Mirio, still in his hero costume, piped up next to Izuku. “Sir, the machine broke.”

“Again?!”

“Tiffany’s coming on Monday.”

“Then you’ll carry out his punishment,” commanded Nighteye as he took his seat behind his desk. He’d already checked out of the conversation. “Any problems with that?”

“None, Sir, but since it’s his first time, might we do it after closing time?”

“Very well. Make sure you close up after you’re done.”

—

“Yeah, I lied about the machine,” revealed Mirio with a chuckle. “I just thought it’d be weird for you, especially since it’s your first time.”

“Oh. Thank you,” replied Izuku tentatively, not quite sure what to make out of the surreal deal. If nothing else, he was grateful he wasn’t being tickled in front of everyone else, though Mirio calling it his “first time” didn’t bode too well for his future.

“So, let’s take a seat!” urged Mirio cheerfully, wheeling out two office chairs so they faced each other and motioning for Izuku to choose one.

Blushing to his ears, Izuku took a seat. Mirio plopped down in the other, the mechanism groaning a little under his weight. He was being goofy to put him at ease, Izuku knew, and he wished he could be grateful for it, but the whole situation was too awkward.

Mirio was sitting there in front of him with his comforting smile, as if it was a perfectly normal thing. And it probably was, in Sir’s agency. It’s not like his classmates didn’t tickle him all the time either. Literally: all the time. Apparently, he was just too adorable when he laughed. And while it could be very annoying, he didn’t mind too much, since he could tell it was done with affection and not to humiliate him. But he hadn’t known Mirio that long…

“Hey, you still there?” Mirio’s question snapped him out of his reverie. “You were muttering to yourself.”

“Sorry, it’s just… I feel bad that you lied to Sir Nighteye for me.”

“He probably knows and knows why I did it. And besides, I don’t really mind the machine. It’s a good time,” explained Mirio with his usual jolly tone. “So, you ok with me tickling you?”

Izuku blushed a deeper shade of red and nodded. What else could he say?

“Good! Do you want to set the timer, or should I?”

He was making him feel like an active participant. He had to be an incredible hero in a crisis. But Izuku was too nervous and couldn’t remember where he’d left his phone. “You, uh, you can do it.”

“Great! I’ll set it to 10 minutes, then you get a 2-minute break. That’s how the machine operates. So if you factor in the breaks, you’re only being tickled for 50 minutes! ” explained Mirio as he set the timer on his phone and placed it on the desk next to Midoriya, so he could check it at will. “One last thing! I need you to take off your shoes and socks. Oh, and to make it count, I need to tickle you under your T-shirt, or you can take it off if you prefer. Is that ok with you?”

“D-Do you really have to?”

“Yep!” said Mirio, clapping his hands on his thighs. “I agree with Sir, you need to learn that your well-being matters, so don’t expect me to play nice!”

Maybe the machine wouldn’t have been so bad after all. But then he remembered that each time he’d seen the machine in action, it always started with those fuzzy appendages that targeted the poor hero’s sides and hips, and Izuku shivered at the memory. One hour of the spot his classmates had told him was his worst for a whole hour?! No way.

“O-ok,” stammered Izuku as he began to remove his bright red shoes, carefully tucking them aside. He also slipped off his black socks - thankfully the agency had showers and he’d been able to wash up - balled them up, and put one inside each shoe.

“You’re very tidy, good for you!” praised Mirio, but Izuku was too tongue-tied to utter anything other than a bashful “Thanks.”

Izuku sat back down, forcing himself to keep his bare soles planted on the ground and to keep his back straight, his hands balled into nervous fists on his thighs. He wanted nothing more than to hide his face behind his knees and die of embarrassment.

Mirio was looking at him with that smile of his. There was no telling what he was thinking. “Oh, can you start the timer?” he asked suddenly.

“Y-Yes,” answered Izuku, anything to keep his mind off of what was about to happen. He reached his hand toward the desk, tapped the screen… and suddenly found himself in a world of hysterics as Mirio’s hands snuck up to his sides.

“WAHAHAHAHAHIHIHIT!!! IIHIHIHHI WAAHAHAHAHASN’T REEEHEHEHEHEHADDY!!!!”

“Not good, Midoriya! Expect the unexpected!” advised Mirio while his strong hands went on squeezing the green bean’s sensitive flanks.

Izuku tried batting them away, grabbing his wrists, using any self-defense technique he’d learned, but Mirio was much stronger than him and even a mere few seconds of tickling had messed up his coordination. Betrayed by his own sensitive body, again!

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA!!!”

It didn’t even matter that the senpai was tickling him through his T-shirt, all Midoriya seemed to be able to do was sink deeper into the chair and laugh as Mirio loomed over him.

“Oh wow, you’ve got it bad!” remarked Mirio with a chuckle. “Are you ticklish anywhere else?” he asked as he moved up to the trainee’s ribs. This time, the fabric of Izuku’s statement shirt lessened the effect of the probing fingers that vibrated and raked at his ribcage with single-minded dedication.

“AAAHAHahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEEHHHEHEHahaahasssseeheheheh!!! StoohoHOHOHOHOP!”

“No can do, Midoriya! This is your punishment! Take your tickles with pride!”

Izuku couldn’t tell to what extent Mirio was teasing him and to what extent he was being his goofy self, but he found himself trying to hide his beet red face from his upperclassman, and failing miserably as the the thumbs suddenly pressing into the bottom of his ribcage forced him to squeal and to try to push the offenders away from him.

“NAAAAhahaahahahahahaha!!! IhihihihIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIcklehehehehehehehssss!!”

Mirio couldn’t believe how adorable the first year looked when he laughed freely, his face scrunched up and his beautiful smile on full display as the boyish laughter rang in the empty office, an informal welcome.

Mirio hadn’t expected it would be that much fun. He could tell that Izuku, after the shock of the first few moments, was torn between trying to escape the tickles and forcing himself to sit still and embrace his weird punishment, and the clash between his will and his sensitivity made his struggle all the more endearing.

But when the probing fingers entered Izuku’s underarms, Izuku was suddenly of a single mind about his predicament.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! TOOOHOHOHOGAHAHAHATA!!! IIII CAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNNN’TT!!!”

He had fully sunk in the back of the chair, his legs kicking wildly at either side of the goofy tickle monster as the latter leaned forward to negate Izuku’s attempt to merge with the cushion, his tongue stuck out in concentration as he was determined to mine that weak spot for all it was worth.

Naturally, the greenette’s natural reaction was to clamp down his arms, succeeding at limiting the range of motion of those pesky fingers… too bad they were exactly where Mirio wanted and Izuku didn’t want them.

“TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIHHIIHHIIHMMEEE!!! TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHIHHIHIMME!!!” squealed izuku through the gales of laughter.

Mirio raised his head - he didn’t even need to relent to glance at the stopwatch - and gave him an apologetic smile. “Take my word for it, you don’t want to know,” he promised as his index fingers made a push deeper into the all too sensitive hollows.

“YAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

Mirio simply couldn’t believe how adorable the greenette sounded and looked when he was flailing in the throes of ticklish agony, his entire body tensing up from under Mirio, his eyes widening with shock for a moment, as the fingers inched upward and inward, teasing the very sensitive skin at the center of Midoriya’s underarms.

“OOOOOHOHOHOHO NOOOOHOHOHOOHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Izuku didn’t know what to do. They’d probably just started, but Mirio was going at it with an enthusiasm he hadn’t anticipated, he really seemed hell-bent on making that punishment feel like… a punishment.

But even through his T-shirt, it tickles so much that Izuku gave up hope of controlling his reactions, and he reflexively started pushing Mirio away in any way he could - and with his arms being out of commission as they were locked in their ineffective barricade, that meant trying to create enough space by wedging a knee against Mirio’s chest, then pushing with his other foot.

That maneuver had been created with grappling in mind; but in that specific scenario, it would lead to more harm and good, because when Mirio felt the foot push against his chest, he didn’t try to oppose it: he grabbed it. “Rookie mistake, young Midoriya.”

Izuku was almost relieved that first one hand, then the second left his poor pits alone. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late, because four fingers were already scribbling up and down his bare sole.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahahahahahaha!!! Nohohohoahaht thehehehehehehehehehehhere!!!”

It was only one foot, but there was no protective layer of fabric between the tickling fingers and the tickled sole, and Izuku really did not want to make the same mistake twice, so he tried to keep his other foot firmly planted on the ground, or at least out of Mirio’s reach, but no matter how hard he kicked, Mirio’s grip was a steel vise, and he only succeeded at rolling his chair farther and closer to his tickler.

For his part, Mirio was plenty happy to take his time with the one sole he got, a little squat and small in his hand, but arguably a little big on someone Izuku’s height, while he waited for the second to inevitably fall into his lap. He abandoned his scattershot approach in favor of a more analytical one, scratching briefly at the heel…

“Hahahahahahaha!!! Hehehehehehehehehehe!”

Then the scribbling fingers traveled up the arch, lingering on the instep when Mirio noticed that Izuku’s giggling grew more squeaky…

“Hahahahaahha!! NEHEHEHEHEhehehehehehehehhahahahaaha!!!”

He dragged his fingernails up and down the arch, and whenever Izuku would attempt to lessen the sensation by scrunching up his sole, Mirio would briefly focus on his arch right above his heel, constantly switching between those spots… It wasn’t just classmates who were oddly skilled at tickling!

“Ohohohohahahahahahahaha!! HAHAahahahahahahahahahaha!!”

Finally, the dull fingernails reached Izuku’s bubble-like toes, eliciting bubbly giggles and squeaks from the greenette, who gripped the armrests for dear life as Mirio seemed to have no intention of letting go and repeatedly stomped the ground with his other foot.

“NeheheehehHEHEHEHEHEEHHEEHE!!! Hahahahahahahahaahahahahahahaha!!!”

“Your toes are so small and cute,” teased Mirio, proceeding to run his thumb on the underside of his toes before grabbing them one by one as if playing ‘this little piggy’. He’d noticed how Izuku wasn’t even trying to negotiate or plead, but had accepted his predicament even as his body fought against it. Either he didn’t hate it, or he was used to it.

Izuku went on squirming in his seat, floundering as his priorities were split between maintaining his balance and hiding his face. Mirio took that chance to lift his ankle higher, throwing him slightly off balance and forcing his other leg to kick out, and Mirio was ready, rapidly scooping both ankles in a headlock and spidering his fingers all over both soles.

“NOOOOhohohohhoho!!! SeheheehEHEHEHHEHEhenpaaaahahahahaihihi!!!! HahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAahahahahahahhaha!!!”

“You sound so happy!” remarked Mirio, as if Izuku needed additional teasing. “Is this your most ticklish spot?”

Izuku didn’t know if his armpits or his feet were worse despite the wealth of experience his classmates had regaled him with, they were bad in different ways, but he knew there was one spot that was even worse. He wasn’t going to say it, but he wasn’t going to lie either, and the compromise seemed to be to laugh his head off.

“I’m not hearing a no,” said Mirio as his frenzied scratching got faster, focusing on the arches and Izuku’s toes.

Izuku threw his head back as the ticklish sensation coursed up his body… and felt himself fall before his shoulders hit the ground.

Mirio stopped tickling him immediately. “Are you hurt?”

Izuku took a few deep breaths, shielding his face once more as he shook his head no.

“Good!” trilled Mirio before sending him into a new fit of laughter as he resumed tickling the squat soles. “Just kidding,” he said after a few moments, letting go of Izuku’s ankles and offering him a hand, which Izuku took. In a moment, he was back on his feet, welcoming the cold floor under his pink soles.

Izuku took that chance to glance at the timer. Six minutes. It hadn’t even been six minutes yet. Izuku went pale, meaning that his scarlet complexion dimmed to a dark pink. But he didn’t have a lot of time to mull over that piece of info, because he was suddenly pulled into Mirio’s lap, the upperclassman’s thick forearm a steel bar that pinned his chest.

Any protest Izuku might have formulated dissolved into gleeful cackles as Mirio’s free hand crawled under his tee and started scratching at his taut stomach.

“NEHEHEHahhahaahahahahahaha!! Stoohhohohohahahahaap PLEHEHEHEHEHAAASE!!”

“Here too? You are one ticklish guy,” chuckled Mirio without being bothered by Izuku’s attempts to grab his wrist or shield his tummy, being much stronger than the green bean who seemed hell bent on not using his Quirk to get away.

Mirio’s friendly claw was wreaking havoc on Izuku’s belly, inflating and depressing to the bright tune of his laughter. He roamed all across the abdominal expanse, dipped one finger in Izuku’s bellybutton to unleash a few adorable squeaks, spidered his fingers on his lower belly and waist, then let his hand tweak at every part of Izuku’s skin under the tee, revisiting his sides, his ribs, making brief attacks on his pits, before descending and squeezing Izuku’s hip…

The greenette’s eyes bulged open as he screeched “NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! NahahahahahHAHAAHAHAHHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHARRE!!!”

“I think you really mean it this time,” teased Mirio as he went on pinching and squeezing at the dreaded spot, switching sides so Izuku couldn’t keep up. When he saw there were only 20 seconds left, “You’re almost there!” he cheered as he latched onto Izuku’s hip and dug in repeatedly, fully unleashing his inner big brother to really give the younger student a laugh.

He kept his eye on the timer in case he couldn’t hear it over Izuku’s laughter, and when he saw it hit zero, he immediately let go of the green bean, only helping him steady himself so he wouldn’t fall again.

“There, there,” he said. “Take deep breaths.”

Izuku jumped off Mirio’s lap and landed on the chair in front of him, his perception of the hot seat completely altered after the last round of tickling.

“You good?”

“I’m… ok, just… uh…” stammered Izuku, and at first Mirio thought he was simply catching his breath, btu then he noticed how the green bean’s gaze was glued to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” said Mirio, causing Izuku to perk up. “Between my Quirk and working with Sir, sometimes I forget that some things come across as a bit weird outside of this office.”

“No, it’s… it’s ok, really,” assured Midoriya.

“I should have offered to let you tickle me first, because it’s really no big deal! Laughing is fun. Sometimes, if I’m having a hard day, I ask Sir to let me use the machine to feel better.”

That was some major Kirishima energy coming from the heroic goofball, and that familiar attitude relaxed the hold that embarrassment had on Izuku’s chest.

“But if it’s too weird for you, I can let you use the machine, or we can speak to Sir tomorrow and try something else!”

A wave of gratitude washed over Izuku. Still, “No, it’s… I want to do this,” he said. “Ihit’s not too… weird. In fact, I’m… kind of used to it.”

Mirio smiled. “I can believe that, your laughter really lights up the room! It’s so nice to listen to.”

That comment caused Izuku’s arm fortress to envelop his face again. Even so… “T-thanks,” he said. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that, and he’d started to accept it as a compliment. Since they’d moved into the dorms, pretty much every brush with tickling he’d had was not a way to demean him, but affectionate physical contact or a silly way to bond, and it had started to remove the sting of past memories with it.

And Mirio… Izuku was a bit intimidated by the upperclassman who should have received One for All in his place, he was just so amazing that despite his kind demeanor, or perhaps precisely because of it, Izuku felt some kind of resistance at the prospect of getting close to him. And still, over time, he’d started to want to be his friend. So the fact that he was acting the same way his friends did was… comforting.

“Ready for round 2?” asked Mirio.

“A-Already?”

“You have one more minute, don’t worry, but I have a proposal. Two, actually!”

“Ok,” replied Izuku nervously.

“First: we use the machine’s restraints so you don’t have to worry about punching me in the face or activating your Quirk. Sounds good?”

No, it didn’t, but it made sense, and he trusted Mirio. Even so, he gulped before saying, “Yes.”

“Proposal the second: if you want to get this over with quicker, we can turn on the machine while I tickle you. We’ll say that cuts the remaining time in half. What do you think?”

If Izuku tried to hide the panic in his eyes, he certainly failed. That would allow them to go home sooner, especially Mirio, who was essentially working overtime due to Izuku’s own mistakes, but the green bean didn’t want to find out what being double-teamed felt like. “M-Maybe later.”

Mirio nodded, his smile unwavering, and walked over to the machine’s control panel. “Let’s see…”

As he pressed various buttons, the machine began to shift, changing its angle, adding and removing restraints, creating protrusions and depressions. That thing was a lot more customizable than Izuku had ever thought, and he couldn’t help wondering who had made it and how much money Sir must have spent on it.

“Hop on,” instructed Mirio. The machine was nearly unrecognizable. It was at around a 30° angle from the floor, with a large cubic protrusion emerging from the bottom that seemed to be intended as a seat. Two metal rings jut out from the front of the cube - ankle restraints, surmised Izuku. There was a second set of restraints at the top of the machine, two adjacent parallelepipeds with circular holes.

Izuku sheepishly made his way toward the machine, eyeing the four cavities from which the tickle-tools were supposed to come out. But he knew they wouldn’t unless he gave Mirio the go ahead.

Before hopping on the cubic seat, however, he paused to remove his top - his hair was already damp and he didn’t want to sweat through his change of clothes as well. Considering how many times he’d seen Mirio naked due to Quirk-related accidents, he didn’t feel too awkward.

Mirio flashed Izuku a thumbs-up as the latter climbed into the machine, the cold metal not entirely unpleasant against his bare back. He placed his ankles into the two rings, which snapped shut around the cuffs of his emerald trousers, then raised his arms over his head and fitted his wrists through the padded restraints above him.

Lying there was certainly more comfortable than standing or thrashing about in an office chair, but it also made Izuku feel that much more exposed and vulnerable, his entire upper body stretched out and on full display, his bare feet dangling out of reach.

His nervousness was partly allated when he saw Mirio step closer to him, having concocted a rather extravagant solution to allow Izuku to see the timer: he’d put his phone in his armband and donned it on his head, so the screen was smack dab in the middle of his forehead. It was exactly the kind of kind and silly thing Mirio would do to put someone at ease, and Izuku felt a wave of affection for the older student.

“Are you ready? I won’t be too mean, I promise.”

Izuku nodded, steeling himself.

“Ok. Boop the timer,” instructed Mirio as he leaned closer to Izuku’s face, allowing him to start the timer with his nose. It took a few tries, and Izuku chuckled in spite of himself. Mirio was trying so hard to put him at ease, he had to do his part too.

“Timer booped successfully,” he said as he tried to approximate the upperclassman’s speech.

“Fantastic!” exclaimed Mirio an instant before he started squeezing Izuku’s knees.

The ticklish jolt caused the greenette to jump a little, and Mirio went on squeezing, looking for just the right spot as his fingers probed at the fabric and the muscle under it.

“Eep! Eek!” yelped Izuku repeatedly, before the string of squeaks melded into a steady stream of high-pitched giggles as Mirio’s thumbs found just the right spot above each kneecap and wouldn’t let go.

Izuku’s titters were just too precious, Mirio knew at that moment it wouldn’t be the last time he’d volunteer to punish the green bean if he kept running headlong into danger. There was something so innocent about the way he kept scrunching his fists and soles to cope with the sensation, about the way his toes pointed inward as he twisted his knees to escape the tickles.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that Mirio ended up spending way more time on that spot than he’d intended, so he tried to make up for it by goosing Izuku’s thighs.

“Hehehehehehehehehehe!! Hehahahahahahahahahahaah!!!”

Thankfully, the thick fabric diffused some of the pressure, making it a lot more bearable than it would have been otherwise.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Mirio.

“Ihihihit tihihihckleehehs buhuhut Ihihih cahahahn tahahahahke ihihihit!” admitted Izuku.

“Ok, good to know!” replied Mirio. “Time to get serious!”

And he started spidering his fingers up and down Izuku’s ribs and sides. momentarily avoiding the hot spot that were his hips, but not holding back at all otherwise, playing the green bean like a piano.

The reaction was immediate.

“OhnoohohohOHOHOHHOAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Izuku burst into laughter, it was so much worse when he was shirtless and couldn’t squirm away!

And Mirio didn’t linger on a single spot for too long, letting his fingers travel up and down, up and down, delivering light and quick touches like kitten licks.

Next he tried slowly dragging his fingernails, caressing the skin, and while Izuku’s laughter seemed to decrease for a moment, the longer he kept it up, the higher in pitch it rose, and it quickly spilled forth again, bubbling like a cauldron.

“EhehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHAH!!! PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAHSE STOOOHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHPP!!!”

The contrast between Izuku’s frantic struggling and the slowness and delicateness of Mirio’s touches was just beautiful, enough that the older student wondered if he’d just found his new favorite antistress. Lighter touches seemed to work just as well, if not better. That would make the machine very effective.

But he wouldn’t rest on his laurels, because when the fingernails ended their umpteenth descent, skipping slightly as they hit the ridges of Izuku’s ribcage before curving down the soft slopes of his sides, he began his ascent by squeezing at the flanks, massaging the area with his thumbs as he did so.

Izuku’s laughter instantly became lower-pitched, but also louder, a new gale spilling forth as he was blindsided by Mirio’s new technique.

When he reached the base of the greenette’s ribcage, he laid off on the squeezing and let his thumbs do most of the work, digging in and massaging, causing Izuku to snort. Mirio lingered briefly on that spot just to get him to let out that adorable sound again, before proceeding to count each of his ribs in a rather torturous manner, and then back down, and up again.

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEH!!! HAHAHHAAH HAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Satisfied with his initial exploration, Mirio then began mixing and matching methods and spots, digging his thumb in Izuku’s floating ribs while squeezing his side, scratching at his ribs while lightly dragging his fingernails down his flank, sometimes using both hands on the same side of his body, just to constantly keep him guessing.

The uncertainty and ever-changing pattern made it impossible for Izuku to get used to the sensation. Through half-lidded eyes, he managed to see there were about 4 minutes left. He could do it!

And then he felt Mirio’s fingers in his armpits.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!! NAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!”

Mirio smiled at the mirthful outburst. If Izuku reacted like that when his underarms were under fire, how would he react when Mirio would get to his hips? For the time being, however, he was perfectly content with driving the greenette up the wall by wiggling his fingers in the damp hollows, his scribbling motions light and quick since that seemed to be particularly effective.

And Izuku could attest to it. “HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! PLEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSSEE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Three minutes.

Mirio kept it up for a few more moments before switching to massaging the hollows top to bottom with his thumbs, pressing gently but firmly, and though Izuku wasn’t as hysterical as before, there was no stopping the cyclical torrent of guffaws and spasms.

“It’s not as bad when I use my thumbs, right?” he asked.

Izuku would have preferred not to talk, but even if past experiences had taught him to answer his tickler, he still felt some kind of obligation toward the older student, so he forced himself to reply, “HIHIHIHIYEHEHEHEHEHEHESSS!!”

Mirio snickered at his own deviousness. Izuku would forgive him, he just had to do it. Time must have been almost up anyway.

“Good to know,” he responded before plunging his thumbs into Izuku’s hips, using the same massaging technique on the depression next to the bone and on his waist and V-line.

Izuku screeched. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHEHEHEHEEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAH!!”

He convulsed as if he’d been electrocuted, but the thumbs wouldn’t let go, so shrill, howling laughter exploded out of him. His shock of emerald hair flung droplets of sweat as he desperately shook his head in denial, a few landing on the display on Mirio’s forehead that kept ticking down. 1:43.

Even a few seconds in, Izuku’s laughter didn’t seem to subside at all. The poor guy was really ticklish. But Mirio wasn’t torturing him to have fun.

“Hey Midoriya, can you still hear me?”

“GHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NEHEHEHEHEEHHEHEEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“It tickles a lot, doesn’t it?”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHHAAHAHKK!!! HAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH YEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHA!!!!”

“Good! So the next time you throw yourself into the fray without regard for your well-being, remember this, because I’m going to do it again. Got it?”

“EEEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA!!! PL-PLEEEHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I need to hear you say it!” demanded Mirio as he started squeezing his hips rapidly.

Izuku’s eyes flew open, dripping ticklish tears down his cheeks. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHSSSSS!!! YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Good.”

Mirio gave a few more squeezes before his fingers relented, slowing to a stop a few moments before the timer went off.

“You’ve made it through round 2! Very well done!” he cheered, but Izuku was too busy filling his lungs with hair to respond.

“It’s a great workout for your core, isn’t it?” asked Mirio as he patted Izuku’s stomach.

The greenette winced, expecting Mirio’s fingers to curl and start tickling him again, but the upperclassman did no such thing.

“Whoa! Wat is that, some kind of manly endurance test?!”

Izuku felt a mixture of relief and horror when he noticed that two figures were standing on the threshold, and if the outline Izuku could make out through the mist of tears hadn’t been enough to identify one of them, his energetic, enthusiastic voice was unmistakable.

“I want to try it!!” beamed Kirishima, his whole face lighting up at the prospect of such a fun challenge.

“Hey, Tamaki! And you must be Kirishima, right?” asked Mirio, pausing the timer as he went to greet them. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but I can try asking Sir if you’d like.”

Izuku blinked the tears away and noticed Kirishima staring straight at him and the machine with awe, while Tamaki was doing his best to look at anything but Izuku, which made the supremely awkward meeting feel even more unbearable.

“I think y-you and t-this one have something in common,” stammered Tamaki in what may have been a tragic attempt at a quip.

“Hey Midoriya! How’re you holding up?”

Izuku nodded, muttering a feeble “F-fine.”

Mirio patted him on the head. “This champ has been going at it for twenty minutes. Only thirty to go!”

Kirishima’s eyes bulged as he did the math. “Fifty minutes?!”

He knew very well just how ticklish the greenette was, and the compassion and admiration he felt for him was bottomless.

“Think you could handle it?” asked Mirio.

Kirishima crossed his arms in front of his chest, instinctively protecting his sensitive upper body. “Good luck, Midoriya,” he wished somberly.

“Let’s leave him to rest, he’s earned it,” commented Mirio as he tried to move the conversation away from the disheveled greenette. “What brings you here?”

“Fatgum a-asked us to get case file TK-131. S-Sir Nighteye approved, he told us y-you’d be here.”

“That must be somewhere in the archive, I’ll help you find it! Have you been waiting long?”

This time it was Kirishima who replied. “Just a minute or two, we heard laughter inside and Suneater told me it was normal and to wait.”

Mirio smiled at his shy friend. “Good! The archive is downstairs, the door on the left, I’ll come help you out in a moment.”

Tamaki thanked him and led Kirishima away, but not before the redhead pumped his fist at Izuku to encourage him, while Mirio made his way back to Izuku.

“I have to help them for a little bit. Think you can handle the machine?”

At that stage, Izuku doubted that the machine’s fluffy appendages could be worse than Mirio’s strong and uncomfortably skilled fingers, so he was almost relieved to hear the offer.

“Great! I’ll just set it, give me a second… So, this would be the third round, so Level 3 it is… standard tools? Yes… 10 minutes… starting in 1 minute. Need a bathroom break?”

Izuku slowly worked his way through the words Mirio was saying to him, elaborating through a cloud of artificial giddiness.

“S-Sorry you have to… do this on my… account,” he panted.

Mirio shook his head and retrieved Izuku’s bottle to let him drink. “You really have nothing to apologize for. But is it weird if I say I’m doing this because I agree with Sir?”

Izuku allowed himself to chuckle, his sore throat refreshed by the drink.

“A little bit. But it’s not… so bad.”

Mirio smiled back, remembering only at that moment to remove the band from his forehead. “I’m going to go help them. And not like there’d be anything wrong with it, but we’re not going to hear you downstairs.” He winked and went after the Fatgum interns.

Izuku closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath and slow down his pulse. He could do it. It was just a workout. A very weird workout. And embarrassing, too. But Mirio’spersonality had the power to remove the sting of shame. For the most part. He could do it. He’d been through worse.

He took one last deep breath as the machine whirred to life. He eyed the lower set of openings, the ones of a height with his waist. It was just going to be a bit of fluff, he could take it. Fluff designed specifically to tickle him into submission. Even if that was true, it couldn’t be worse than a human with five fingers per hand!

But as the pink appendages emerged, looking like something in between foxtail spikes and miniature feather dusters, Izuku couldn’t help but notice that there were two per opening, and they immediately got to work, feathering his sides and his even more sensitive hips, from the bone to the waist of his trousers.

“Hehehehehahahahahahahahahaha!!! Hihihahahahahahahahaahahahahahaha!!! N-Nohohohahahahaha!!”

Izuku, and way too many people around him, knew he was feather ticklish. In fact, he could feel every little barb of each of the four appendages, coming together for an effect greater than the sum of their parts. It felt different from rougher forms of tickling, like it was calling on his skin to come alive, a teasing sensation that was just as intense as form of stimulation with more pressure, but for which laughing did not feel like a suitable outlet, causing him to dissolve into breathy, hiccuping giggles punctuated by the occasional snort - less loud, just as tortured, and, possibly, even cuter.

And just as Izuku started questioning whether he’d underestimated certain things, the machine powered up again, extruding two more pairs of fuzzy appendages that began to oscillate up and down his ribs and in his underarms. What a terrible time to find out that his armpits were just as receptive to soft tickles as his hips.

“Wahahahaahahahahahaihihihit!!!! F-Fohohohohouhuhur wehehehehehehre ehehehnOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHahahaahahahahahahahAHAHhHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!”

But Izuku was in for another disappointment, because amidst his thrashing and laughing, he didn’t notice a panel slide forward under his feet, and an additional four fuzzy appendages got to work on thoroughly tickling his soles from heel to toe, one pair largely focusing on his arch and instep, the other on the ball and the base of his toes.

No new ground was broken this time - Izuku already knew that his feet were also extremely feather sensitive.

“NEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!! IHIHIHIT’S TOOHOHOHOHO MUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHHCCCHHH!!!”

And that was when he realized that no matter how much he begged, the machine wouldn’t relent, the machine wouldn’t stop. He was on the hook for the entire ten minutes. 10 minutes during which the fuzzy appendages would keep caressing his sides and ribcage, dancing in his underarms, following the defined line of his pecs and back into the sensitive hollows, slithering up and down and across his soles so no matter how much he scrunched or waved them, they’d never escape the tickles, torturously teasing his waist and hips, inevitable.

The specially designed fuzz wouldn’t warp from continuous contact with ticklish skin or by absorbing the moisture of the layer of perspiration it erected as a last defense, no, it would keep delivering surgically precise tickles for the entire time it had been programmed to, without mercy or emotion, the twelve swaying appendages like hands counting down the seconds, and Izuku the hysterical, overstimulated clock face.

It tickled so much and in such a teasing, penetrating way that Izuku couldn’t help fighting against the sensation, trying to distract himself by counting, telling himself it couldn’t be much longer, but the seconds stretched into minutes and the stimulation was overwhelming.

First he stopped thrashing, not because he’d run out of energy or wanted to save it, but because he’d accepted defeat. He wasn’t going anywhere. Once again, he could only embrace what was happening to him, trying to focus on the smaller part that felt pleasant rather than torturous.

Then he stopped begging, which he’d kept up not to convince anyone except himself, that there was something he could do to put an end to it, at least at first, then the pleas melded into a mantra, which was finally broken by the hiccups and snorts.

Finally, he let the tears roll down his cheeks freely, unencumbered by shame or delusions of control, cutting through the freckles and dripping down his neck, allowing the giddiness to consume him.

That was the state Mirio found him in, plus a multitude of hiccups, a minute or so after the machine stopped, having already sent Tamaki and Kirishima on their way.

“Well done! you’ve made it past the halfway point!”

Izuku was too busy huffing and puffing to reply, but accepted Mirio’s offer of another sip of water and declined a toilet break.

“You know, I was a bit like you a few years back,” said Mirio, filling the silence while he allowed Izuku to recuperate. “I wanted to keep everyone safe. Except for myself, I guess.”

The greenette forced himself to look at Mirio.

“It’s like Sir said. If you die, you can’t save anyone else. Think of all the good you could do in the future.”

Izuku sighed. If only it were so easy. The Quirk he’d been given, All Might’s torch…

“But it’s not just that. I understand you want to prove your worth, but you aren’t just a hero. You’re a person. You have people who love you and a life to live to the fullest.”

That struck a chord within Izuku. How often had he worried that his classmates were putting too much pressure on themselves? That they - no, not even him - weren’t ready for that kind of responsibility yet?

“And if you want to be a hero, be a hero for as long as you can. You have to value your life and respect your body. Got it?”

Izuku thought he could hear echoes of All Might in the upperclassman’s words, and wondered if he’d ever given Mirio a similar speech. Maybe he wasn’t changing his priorities yet, but there was something to that opposing viewpoint, something he’d have to confront, because it came from someone who seemed to understand him.

The green bean swallowed the last of his hiccups to simply say, “T-Thanks.”

“Mull it over, ok? Now we just have to make sure it sinks in. Only two rounds left!”

Twenty minutes. The thought horrified Izuku. No. He wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

“Can… you do it… too?” he asked, pushing down his nervousness. “To… halve the… time.”

The only way out was through.

Mirio would have patted Izuku on the shoulder if the way he was restrained didn’t make it impossible. “A fine choice, Midoriya! No need to turn up the intensity either,” he replied as he programmed the machine.

“You ready?”

Izuku steeled himself, then nodded.

The machine started up again, the appendages instantly sending Izuku into a new fit of hysterics.

“Hahahahahahahahaha!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“You’re a brave one,” said Mirio as he walked toward the guffawing greenette. “Now, repeat after me. My life is important,” he instructed as he started squeezing his knees again.

“HEhehehehhahahahahaahahahahaha!!! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHNNT!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA!!”

“Sure you can!” urged Mirio while moving up to Izuku’s thighs, to give him an extra incentive. “My life is important!”

Izuku had convinced himself that with the machine already overwhelming his senses, Mirio’s touches would have lost some of their power. He was wrong.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! M-MYHIHIHAHAHAHAHHAA LIHIHIHHIFE IHIHIHHIS!!! IHIHIHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“You can do it!” said Mirio while kneading his thumbs into the muscle of Izuku’s thighs.

“IHIHIHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!! IHIHIMPAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! IMPOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHARTHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNTT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

What Mirio was doing, reaching deep under the skin, tickled in a completely different way from the twelve - twelve! - mechanical foxtails writhing in all his most ticklish spots, so instead of diffusing each other, the sensations compounded to instantly make Izuku regret his decision.

“You’re doing great! ‘My health is important!’”

Mirio’s requests prevented him from sinking into the sensation, forcing him to remain present at all times.

It also didn’t help that Mirio had moved his right hand away from Izuku’s thigh and had started scribbling his fingers on Izuku’s lower stomach, causing Izuku to spasm and to let out a loud squeak.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!! NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!”

“My health is important!” repeated Mirio without letting up in the slightest.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAPPP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! MYHIHIHHI HEHEHEHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHIHIS IHIHIHIMPOOOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHRT-TAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I’ll take it. Now for the last one!” promised Mirio while his second hand joined the first in scratching and poking all over Izuku’s abs, more prominent than ever due to the intense workout they were receiving.

“EEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! EHEHEHEHEHHENAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAUUHGHGHGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!!”

“You’re almost there! ‘I am important.’”

“HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! IHIHHIAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHMMM!!! IMP-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“Again!”

“IHIHIHIMPAPPAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHAHAHAHAM IIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAH!!! IAMIMPORHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!”

“Uh, your belly looks like a pretty ticklish spot too, uh?” observed Mirio while his ten fingers continued to wreak havoc on said ticklish tummy. “Fear no, I came prepared!” he assured, seemingly without considering that he could just stop tickling Izuku to let him speak.

Instead, he pulled a green marker out of his pocket, removed the cap, and started writing something across Izuku’s glistening chest. “I… aaaaaaammmm…. immmmpooorrrrtaaaaannnnnt!”

Unfortunately, the tip also happened to tickle Izuku terribly, and Mirio was dexterous enough that his left hand didn’t have to stop scratching at his belly while he went on writing, tracing over the most ticklish letters smudged by Izuku’s perspiration or that were rendered unreadable by his useless squirming, renewed by the sheer intensity of the double attack.

“What was the second one? Mmmmmyyyyyyyyyyy… heeeeaaaaallllth… iiiiisssss… iiiiimmmmpoooooo-impooooooortaaaannnnt!” he spelled out as he wrote the letters right under Izuku’s pecs, uncovering a new ticklish spot for the greenette.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!! MMMMIHIHIHHIRIOOOOOHOHOH!!! STAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHPPP!!” begged Izuku, throwing all formality out of the window.

“No can do, Midoriya! Myyyyyyyyyyy… llllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiffffffffeeeeee… iiiiiiisssss…”

He’d started writing across Izuku’s belly, dodging the rivulets that glistened in the abdominal creases, and if the green bean had hoped that would mean Mirio’s left hand would remain idle or return to a spot protected by his trousers, he was sorely disappointed as the ticklign fingers attacked the underside of his pecs.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmpoooooooooooooooorrrrtaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnt!” concluded Mirio, writing the “o” around Izuku’s bellybutton and circling it repeatedly before dipping the marker into the navel to color all around and inside it.

Mirio uncapped the marker, which gave Izuku enough bandwidth to remember just how awful the fuzz on his hips, soles, and in his underarms tickled, aided and abetted by the appendages still working over his ribs and sides.

“Good job, Midoriya! You’re almost done!” cheered Mirio as all ten of his fingers descended on Izuku’s defenseless tummy again.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAPPP!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHAHHAHAHA!!! CAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHANNNTTT!!!”

“You can, I believe in you!” claimed Mirio while his fingers crawled up Izuku’s abs all the way under his chest, and then back down.

“HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA!!! IHIHIHIT’S SOOOHOHOHO TIHIHIHICKLIIIIHIHIHISH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! IHIHIH CAHAHAHAH!!! IIIII CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHHAAA!!!”

Total meltdown. Izuku gave up, he had no choice but to, his mind melting into ticklish insanity as the machine lightly tickled his pits, ribs, sides, hips, and feet, seeming to make him even more sensitive to Mirio’s compassionate yet ruthless touches.

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, unsure whether Mirio was still talking to him or if his mind was clinging to anything to preserve its integrity, his lungs on fire, his senses overrun by the tickles, unable to see under his own damp curls and tears…

He felt his arms go limp, seemingly having slipped through the restraints. No. The machine had let him go. Neither it nor Mirio were tickling him anymore, even as he still felt the horrid fuzz demanding his ticklish atonement all over his body.

This time, Mirio was really talking to him. “...done for real. Congratulations!”

izuku gave a sheepish nod. Was it over? Was it really over?

“Shall I pick you up?” offered Mirio, and Izuku, tickled into accepting anything, nodded again without thinking.

He felt Mirio’s wiry arms lift him up without effort, and though he maybe should have felt embarrassed - not like his classmates wouldn’t pick him up just because they could - all he felt was safe and relieved.

Mirio gently deposited him on the office chair. “You might want to shower again,” he recommended as he pointed to the sentences written in green on Izuku’s upperbody. But the green bean primarily wanted his ticklish spots out of sight, so he put on his t-shirt anyway.

Mirio retrieved his shoes for him and helped him out, sneaking a few tickles to his sole. Izuku collapsed back into the chair in a fit of happy giggles, but he didn’t pull his foot away, because he could tell the upperclassman would stop immediately, and he did.

“Sorry we had to put you through all that,” said Mirio as he clasped the greenette’s hand to help him stand up.

“I… deserved it,” conceded Izuku, exhausted but also kind of happy. As far as punishments went, intense though it was, it seemed to create no hard feelings.

Mirio retrieved his own duffel bag and walked to the exit with him. “You know, if Sir punishes me tomorrow for lying, you might be able to get your revenge,” he said with a conciliatory chuckle.

Izuku giggled. No, it was ok… “I just… might take you up… on that,” he surprised himself saying.

#mha tickle #bnha tickle #tickle content #tickletorture #tickle fic #ticklish!midoriya #lee!midoriya #ticklish!izuku #lee!izuku #ticklish!deku #lee!deku #ler!mirio

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txttletale · 1 year ago

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Do you have recs for combatless rpgs? sorry if someones asked this ! im getting into ttrpgs now and its just pretty hard to find anything non combat focused ?

i recommended wanderhome (melancholy animal roadtrip), dream askew (queer postapocalyptic survival), microscope (collaborative worldbuilding), and crescent moon (kids learning and growing in a fantasy land) in resposne to an ask earlier today. other great rpgs that aren't combat focused include:

chuubo's marvelous wish-granting engine: i'll level with you, if you're just getting into rpgs this one might be A Lot because it's quite mechanically complex. but it's a beautiful game about having ghibliesque coming-of-age adventures in a surreal dreamy world.

nobilis is by the same person (jenna moran, a genuine game design pioneer and genius) -- it's about being godlets, the living embodiments of concepts from the concrete to the abstract. you might find yourself fighting in this game, but it's unlikely to look anything like 'combat'.

brindlewood bay, which is about being elderly women investigating murders.

pasión de las pasiones, a pbta (powered by the apocalypse) game about doing ridiculous romance drama shit based on telenovelas

monsterhearts, about teenaged monsters having weird drama and exploring their sexuality. think buffy or twilight, but queerer

pigsmoke, about being professors at a college of magic and competing to see who can publish the best paper (yes, really)

the girlfriend of my girlfriend is my friend, about... i mean i think the title makes it pretty clear! being gay and poly and kinda broke

it's been a long, long, time, about two people who used to date, their relationship, their lives after it, and their reunion

sagas of the icelanders, about being viking settlers in iceland during the saga period and playing out quasimythical dramas

hieronymous, about being a bunch of sinners making your way across hieronymous bosch's garden of earthly delights

thousand year old vampire, a solo journalling game about being a vampire and living through long stretches of history

blow up hamlet, where your table performs hamlet while changing the plot and improvising new plot beats at semi-random

slugblaster, about being rowdy teens hoverboarding through interdimensional rifts in the spirit of 90s teen movies

woo! that's a fuckin' lot of ttrpgs, but i wanted to give a lot of suggestions because i think it's so important for people getting into the hobby to understand the breadth of games out there and how far from the popular image created by D&D they can go! there are two-player and GM-less and even one-player games on this list. you can do anything! the world of rpgs is so fucking wide and beautiful. good luck and i hope you find something that speaks to you!

(oh, also, my game, most trusted advisors -- about being the untrustworthy privy council to a dipshit king and falling over each other's nested dipshit schemes -- has no combat in it. just saying!)

#ask #ttrpg

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mxnaluv · 2 years ago

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Flowers pt 1

Pairing: HowlxFemalePresenting!reader

Featuring: Howl Pendragon

Genre: Fluff, Established Relationship, Proposal, Mentions of Marriage

Summary: It's Y/N's Birthday so Howl and Markl surprise her!!

Reader's Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: One suggestive part but it's not SUPER suggestive but very subtle.

I sat in the warm, cozy living room and idly read one of my favorite books, Pride and Prejudice. It had been my birthday today and I had been eagerly waiting for Markl to get home. He had been out with his new friends from Porthaven, so I had been left to myself in the castle. I had been feeling a bit lonely lately, and this book made me feel a little better.

With Markl and Howl constantly going out, I have to do things to keep myself busy. Like trying out new recipes, reading the latest books, or maybe even walking around the town and talking to the people.

But sooner or later, the words consumed me on the pages. I looked up from the comforting book and saw that it was getting late, and I hadn't eaten yet. I then got up and started to make some dinner, feeling a little guilty about taking my eyes off the book for even a second. I started to feel isolated and alone again, but cooking dinner gave me something to focus on other than my thoughts.

Not long after, I heard the door open. I turned the stove off and looked behind me to see that it was my lover Howl with a bouquet of roses in his hands. "I'm home," he yelled and went into the kitchen.

"Happy birthday, my love," he said, holding out the beautiful roses. ‌The roses were a light pink with a hint of blue. They were the perfect birthday gift.

I gratefully took the bouquet and admired them. "They're absolutely beautiful," I said, "but you didn't have to get me flowers."

"I know," he replied, "but I couldn't resist."

These are truly beautiful Howl," I said, kissing him on the cheek. I put the flowers in a vase and continued to cook dinner. Soon, he came and helped me cook.

After a filling dinner with Howl, I started to clean up the cooking mess that we had made.

Howl then got up from the table behind me, then hugged me from behind. I felt his arms snake around my waist, and I could smell the sweet scent of his breath on my neck. "I have something to show you," he said.

Howl turned me around so that I was facing him, then smiled and took my hand. He took me to the front door, then he switched the house door into our favorite place—the garden with a little cottage in the middle.

He opened the door slowly, and the sweet smell of flowers hit me. I looked to the outside and gasped. ‌Rose petals were headed towards two elegantly-dressed chairs, with another red rose in the center of the table. It felt surreal and dreamlike, like I was seeing this place for the first time. It was beautiful and magical, like nothing I had ever seen before.

The moonlight shone perfectly through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating the tablecloth with a soft, white light. The fields of daisies and sunflowers surrounding it were bathed in the orange hues of the setting sun. Having Howl by my side all felt like a dream come true. But every day with him felt like a dream come true.

He took my hand once more, then walked us to the table. We stopped in front of a chair and he let go of my hand, then he pulled out the chair for me. ‘Thank you Howl." I said as I sat down.

As he sat down in the other chair, Markl and his other friends came from behind the hill with a beautiful cake, which they then presented to me. “How did you guys know it was my birthday?” I exclaimed, surprised, and touched. ‌Their thoughtfulness and generosity touched me.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” Markl said as he lit the candles. They began to sing a heartwarming birthday song to me, and I savored the moment by blowing out the candles with a smile on my face. The cake was delicious, the roses were amazing, and the company was warm and welcoming. I couldn't have asked for a better birthday.

“Y/N, what did you wish for?” Markl exclaimed, drawing out the name. He seemed genuinely excited to hear the answer, with a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye.

"If I say it out loud, then it won't come true." I smiled.

Howl then cleared his throat and stood up. I looked towards him and he started to take something out of his back pocket.

I gasped once more as a hand went over my chest as he then got down on one knee. The atmosphere was instantly transformed into something magical and peaceful.

It was a delicate platinum ring with a heart-shaped diamond mounted in the center of the band. My eyes teared up with happiness as I saw the ring for the first time. I couldn't contain my feelings and started to cry.

"Since you were there for me through all of my ups and downs, I have always loved you. I can't imagine going a day without you by my side. Will you marry me?" He professed.

I got up from my chair and held him as tight as I could, never wanting this incredible, magical moment to end. ‌I was in awe of how lucky I was to have him in my life, and how much I loved him. “Of course I’ll marry you Howl!”

I could tell that he was extremely excited and nervous about this, and I was too. He hugged me back tightly, then he pulled away and put the ring onto my finger. It was the most sentimental and emotional moment of my life, and I'm happy that I could share it with the one person who had been there for me every step of the way.

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aquamarina369 · 2 months ago

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So fun fact I actually wrote the first genuine Jeckole fic

Here’s the better version I posted later after the series actually got a fanbase on AO3

There were 2 published fics that existed before mine, both on FFN, and one jokingly shipped them for a reveal it was just Jeffrey writing real people fic, so like, mine was the first actual one

This was like 2 months before the game blew up on TikTok and when it was just starting to gain steam from vtubers playing it and I submitted it to a fanfiction contest the official discord was hosting (hence why it’s on FFN it was part of the contest rules which, Jesus Christ that site’s a mess now).

More specifically it was a contest SBN3 was hosting and was the sole judge of

The guy we know now is salty his edgy visual novel, that he only made a visual novel because he saw it as the way to get the most money with what he had at the time (there’s interviews where he says this, multiple in fact), got popular with yuri fangirls instead of edgy South Park fans like he wanted. Back then the fandom was mostly those edgy South Park guys, the announcement of the fanfic contest results hosted in the discord server was basically all guys in the call bar me, the complete opposite of the twitter space launch party after the flip side where it was all women besides one guy with goner in his bio who SBN3 repeatedly said he wished more people like would show up

My shitty fic I wrote in an afternoon while bored at work was his first exposure to what the series would become. He wanted more edgy guys who thought he’s god’s gift to comedy to become fans but instead he got a bunch more yuri fangirls who like the characters.

I highly doubt he remembers me or my fic but there is a non zero chance I planted the seed of hatred that led to The Flip-Side basically being made out of spite. In a way I killed class of 09, or at least dealt the first real blow

And that’s still so surreal to me

I’ve wanted to make a video on this but honestly talking about these games kinda annoys me because of how much now goes back to SBN3 being spiteful of the fandom so any script I’ve written just leaves me frustrated

Have this bad thumbnail draft I made for if I made on telling this exact story

#class of 09 #the flipside #jeckole #nicole class of 09 #jecka class of 09

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squidpedia · 11 days ago

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CAN I JUST SAY RQ! You were one of the first artists I found on this site, and actually one of the first few people I followed. When I first got Tumblr I was in the middle of this huge art rut where I just couldn't draw anything, and because of that (and how goddamn cool your art is) your style has had one of the biggest influences on my style ever! On top of that seeing you post about lilac is what inspired me to work on my soul designs in the first place :) I'm actually really happy with my recent art and I largely have you to thank for that.

TL;DR you and your art has been such a huge inspiration for me that that is an understatement- tysm for sharing your art and ideas. (Also a lot of my favorite utdr headcanons came from you)

Thats like?????? So incredibly wild and insane to me?????? I’m so flattered my art could help you with that!!!!! December 2023 i was also going through a huge art rut but scrolling through the uty tags and seeing everyones fanart helped me get excited about drawing again so????????? I dont have the words its just surreal !!! My artstyle is just a culimination of things that make me happy in art, whatever i draw is just whatever hc I desperately need to see become real and think it would be so sick if someone drew. Soo just knowing other people are excited about it too blows my mind.

Thank you!!!!!! For your support, for your kind words, for sharing in the excitement and making your own oc’s!!!!! I’m overjoyed to be a stepping stone in your art joruney and i wish you the best!!

#I DIDNT EVEN EXPECT ANYONE TO BOTHER REMEMBERING LILACS NAME THE FIRST TIME I POSTED ABOUT THEM SO ITS LIKE?????? THANK YOU FOR LIKING THEM #KEEP MAKING OC’S THAT ARE BUILT TO MAKE SPECIFICALLY YOU HAPPY #asks #moth talk #duke

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bittersweetresilience · 4 months ago

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author's commentary part one

now that we've reached the end of the fic, i will finally explain the beginning.

i named this piece after 大鱼, a song whose title means big fish. in the fic, jing yuan references void songs twice, which i imagine are the sounds that void song whales make. if you remember, yukong talks about these whales in her visitor dialogue. they swim freely through the stellar seas while their sibling species on the luofu has disappeared into history.

whale songs. dream fish. the call of the void. the language of longing. to me, renjing.

author's imagery only the most important bits

the sky is freedom and departure, and it is jing yuan, eventually. the sea is the dissolution of the self and the thing that will swallow him, and it is yingxing. the lightning is the portent of death, but also the electricity of being in love. the wine is the representation of shared wishes and togetherness and history. the starskiffs are the memorials of the past and the vessels into the empyrean. the fire is desire and destruction. the ink is the color of blade's hair and the sincerity of the letters jing yuan writes. the bandages and the iron are blade and the violence of his existence. the paper birds are the fragility of jing yuan's memories, which cannot be buried. the nightclothes are the vulnerability he will shed in the morning. the string is the red string of fate between renjing, but also the strings that tether jing yuan to the luofu and to his ending. the womb and the egg are the places of rebirth and the representation of returning to the beginning. the sun is the stellaron, and it is jing yuan before the sky and the sea consume him, and it is the end of the dream.

author's commentary part two

below is my translation of the song.

大鱼 big fish

海浪无声将夜幕深深淹没 the waves soundlessly submerge the night 漫过天空尽头的角落 rising over the corners of the edge of the sky 大鱼在梦境的缝隙里游过 the big fish swims in the rifts between dreams 凝望你沉睡的轮廓 watching your sleeping visage

看海天一色听风起雨落 seeing the sky and the sea in one color, hearing the winds stir and the rain fall 执子手吹散苍茫茫烟波 holding my son's hand, i blow away the hazy ripples of smoke 大鱼的翅膀已经太辽阔 the wings of the big fish are already too vast 我松开时间的绳索 i let go of the thread of time

怕你飞远去怕你离我而去 afraid you'll fly far away, afraid you'll leave me 更怕你永远停留在这里 even more afraid you'll stop here forever 每一滴泪水都向你流淌去 every tear flows toward you 倒流进天空的海底 flowing backward into the ocean floor of the sky

(...)

看你飞远去看你离我而去 seeing you fly far away, seeing you leave me 原来你生来就属于天际 so you were born to belong to the sky all along 每一滴泪水都向你流淌去 every tear flows toward you 倒流回最初的相遇 flowing backward into our first meeting

without this song, this fic wouldn't exist. every part of the two was intimately interwoven. in particular, the line about the thread of time was what made me certain it would be a nonlinear narrative and the mixing of the sky and the sea was the image that created the entire story.

i further drew from the lyrics the most important imagery, the idea of ending on the beginning, and the son's hand as not only yanqing but everyone jing yuan leans on today in order to support himself against the weight of history. i drew the themes of dreams and reality, the dialogue on leaving, and the breathless, surreal atmosphere of melancholy and yearning. but in addition to all of that there is a double meaning in this song to me.

the first time you hear it, you think it's about jing yuan. and it is, of course. everything is about him. he is the holder, the sleeper, the one submerging. but by the last verse, you realize it is also blade, talking to him as he walks into scalegorge waterscape. trying and failing to call him back from within the endless dream.

both of them were born to belong to the sky. only one of them truly died in it.

author's dictionary

rèn, 刃, word for 'Blade' (lit. 'blade's edge') jiāngjūn, 将军, word for 'general' gānbēi, 干杯, word for 'cheers' (lit. 'dry cups') mèngdié, 梦蝶, word for the shortness of life (lit. 'butterfly dream') (this was not said explicitly but alluded to in the first dream) shīfù, 师父, word for 'martial master' bàitáng, 拜堂, word for the act of bowing to the heavens and the earth, the parents, and then each other in marriage (this is what the high-cloud quintet was joking about) yǐnyuè-jūn, 饮月君, word for 'Imbibitor Lunae' (lit. 'moon-drinker') nàihé qiáo, 奈何桥, word for the Bridge of Oblivion where souls drink Meng Po soup to forget the memories of their past life in preparation for reincarnation húlu, 葫芦, word for 'gourd' (this is what bailu uses to dispense medicine) qīng, 卿, word for 'senior official' (this is the honorific jing yuan uses for fu xuan in light of her position as master diviner) xiàngqí, 象棋, word for 'Chinese chess' (this is what starchess is based on, where my vision designates aurumatons as cannons, starskiffs as elephants, and cloud knights as pawns) gē, 哥, word for 'older brother' (this is a casual term of address for older men) shíhuǒ mèngshēn, 石火梦身, word for 'Starfall Reverie' (lit. 'sparks in stone, body in dream')

author's references

all of the xianzhou trailblaze missions. all of the relevant characters' character stories and companion missions. character dialogues. visitor dialogues. battle dialogues. battle mechanics. lightcones. relics. readables. item descriptions. character designs. character messages. the new trailblaze continuance. area maps. chinese voiceovers and their english translations. character trailers. combat guides. animated shorts. possibly more things i'm forgetting to mention. my wealth of insanity.

author's appreciation

wiki editors who came before me. people who upload youtube videos of different dubs of each trailblaze mission. spouses and ssswips. my beloved commenters. the composer of 大鱼. renjing.

#🌃#renjing

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drachonia · 4 months ago

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𝐥 𝐚 𝐯 𝐞 𝐧 𝐝 𝐞 𝐫 ' 𝐬 𝐛 𝐥 𝐮 𝐞 .

Alfons Slyvatica Family Fluff

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i kinda felt like going back to my roots and writing some family fluff while i wait for october and try not to pass out from uni stress, lmao. simple stuff, just wanted to write for some characters i've grown fond of. a lil tough to write because of how complex alfons' emotions are about life stuff.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: not really anything warning worthy aside from just...family fluff. a little mention of his more bleak inner thoughts near the end (ends postiive), but that's about it.

Soft and tender notes reached Alfons’ ears as he entered the parlor of his home in the late hours of the morning. His wife’s long brunette hair trailed over the arm of the rocking chair as she cradled a dark-haired child in her lap, gently brushing back the straight but fluffy hair from his little forehead.

“Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly And the lambs play We shall be safe, dilly, dilly Out of harm's way.”

Her gemstone eyes flickered up to meet his from across the room, her calm stare turning to a beaming smile as she saw her husband linger in the doorway.

“Look who’s home.”

A tiny head of dark hair whipped up in excitement, the boy turning and scrambling down from his mother’s lap and bouncing toward Alfons with a bright and mischievous grin, much like his own.

“Alec, careful!” His mother called gently after him as tiny feet padded across the hard wood floors quickly.

“Papa’s home! Papa’s home!” The boy leapt into his father’s arms, giggling happily. Long arms caught the child as his aforementioned father lifted him effortlessly in his arms, “How is my little duckling?” He chuckled, feeling the tiny little arms squeeze ‘round his collar and chubby cheeks nuzzle the breast of his coat, eyes closing happily, “Mum read me a few stories that uncle Liam sent! And uncle Elbie came by with Erik to say hello! Ooh and after that we baked a pie together, Mum made our favorite flavor filling, too—” The boy brightened as he recounted the events of the day, his father’s soft as he sat down on the sofa with his son on his lap.

Smoke colored eyes drifted briefly during the story to his son’s mother, taking in the smile as she stared at their child lovingly. He recounted the many times she’d expressed how she wanted their child to look like him, and glancing back down at Alec, she practically got her wish. Narrow but pretty dark eyes, soft black hair just short of ink in color. The more he looked at his son, the more he contemplated his own negative thoughts. If someone had asked him several years ago whether he’d make a good father, he would have laughed in their face. Nowadays, however, Alfons was almost terrified at how much his own family had changed his outlook on life. That solemn reminder of being forgotten lurked in the back of his mind, always. But…this peace he was rewarded with at his home he’d made…it was something that kept him going. He would make every effort each mission to execute each plan to perfection, not a resource nor a second could be wasted, for he had a family to return to.

“—Oh! And I start school tomorrow, remember, papa?” Excited smoke colored eyes stared wide up at him, expectant for a reaction. He felt his muscles relax finally, reaching up to rub Alec’s fluffy little head, thumb rubbing his chubby cheek, “Yes, little one, I remember, growing so fast, aren’t you?” He lifted him into a hug, squeezing him to his chest and kissing the top of his head, chin resting there as he smiled at his wife, a fragile, but contented smile. All of this felt surreal, like he could let out too heavy a sigh and it would all blow away like smoke. But with each day he lived it, he learnt he was far more content to let things develop as they were.

He remembered being hesitant when he learned he and his lover had managed to conceive. Remembered the anxiety of what could become of them both should anything happen to him. But perhaps the thing he remembered most of it all was when he got to sit by her side, watching her cradle that little bundle with a patch of dark hair. That moment he reached out, only for a tiny fist to wrap around his gloved index finger. That moment rendered him wide-eyed in wonder, speechless and curious to how someone could capture his attention even easier than his partner. Of course, given the fact a child was practically a manifestation of them both, he supposed it wasn’t entirely impossible to have that unconditional love.

Brought back to reality by a faint tug on his coat by his eight year-old, he smiled softly, eyes crinkled in joy as he kissed his son’s head tenderly. Every bit of love he would pour into this family of his, until all of them were filled with too many memories to possibly forget. That would be the thing that he would leave behind, no matter what twisted card fate may try to pull.

lace headers by saradika.

#ikemen villains #ikevil alfons #drac writes #alfons sylvatica #ikevil fluff

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pixels-not-dreams · 3 months ago

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scrambled || ovi!beyond x reader

“It’s your lucky day, Y/N.” Beyond’s voice rumbles in your chest. You’d been in your room, reading, when he walked in without knocking. You and he were the only ones still awake at the Wammy’s House alumni association annual gathering. It’s dark outside, and you’d already put your pajamas on. You’d packed a red silk cami and shorts just in case this very situation arose. You’d wanted to fuck Beyond since you were both teenagers. Your panties dampen at the realization that, a decade later, it might actually happen.

“My what?” You say, hoping that you sound demure and coquettish in spite of the throb in your shorts. You close your book and use it to fan your face.

“I said,” Beyond says. He sits beside you and leans in close. He smells like cigarette smoke. “It’s your lucky day.”

“Did you ever think,” you say, licking your lips. “That it might be your lucky day, Beyond?”

“Be quiet,” he snarls. He reaches one hand down into your top to roughly grope your breast. The other scrambles down and unbuttons his fly. You want to blink, but you can't risk looking away, even for a second. A fresh wave of fear and arousal sweeps through you.

Beyond reaches his hand into his pants. The cock you salivated for turns out to be a delicate ovipositor. It's mottled black and red. It's hard, like a carapace, ramrod-straight, and pointy as a needle.

“You're the perfect one to warm my eggs, Y/N,” he says. “I chose you years ago. Now turn over.”

You'd dreamed of Beyond’s cock for as long as you'd known him. You'd imagined him stroking himself to full mast, lining himself up to your entrance. Maybe he would have hovered there, making you wait, or he'd have swiped the head on your slit, making you twitch in anticipation before he buried himself inside.

But it doesn't happen like that. Your face is crushed into a pillow, and Beyond is behind you, pulling your hips up. His fingers slip under your panties and probe your entrance. You squeeze your eyes in shame as you try to fuck yourself on his hand, but find only cold air as he pulls away.

He laughs at your eagerness, pulling your panties to the side. The ovipositor slides into your pussy like it was molded to you.

It's still, at first. He's pushed it all the way in. After a few moments, he starts to move, shallow at first, but quickly setting a bruising pace. His breath is ragged. He must have been waiting for this for a long time.

A strangled sound escapes him. “Y/N—”

“Please, B,” you plead. “Be careful. I want to take care of them for you.”

His hips stutter, and you feel yourself filling up with tiny spheres—his eggs. You beam into the pillow. He chose you to host his brood. He could have had anyone, but it's you he selected, your hips he's digging into, your pussy he's filling to the brim.

You’re full, so full that with every thrust a gush of orange jelly-eggs spurts onto the covers beneath you. It’s surreal. You wish he’d thought to lay down a towel, but you’re also too cock-struck to care.

You thought he would stop when the eggs came, but Beyond is relentless. Your knees are weak, and your face is wet with tears and your own spit. You usually need to touch yourself to come from sex, but this is different. This is something else entirely.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. “Oh, B.”

“Beyond?” Your voice is weak. The others think you're hiding because you have a migraine. A full 24 hours have passed, and you've been in bed for all of it, writhing and sweating. You've made yourself come 16 times. It's not enough. The eggs must want you dead.

“Yes, babygirl,” he says, leaning on the doorframe.

“I'm—I’m not,” you falter. An orange dot in the dark tells you he's lit a cigarette. It gets nearer; he's walking towards you.

He leans down. You can't really see him. Your eyes are filled with tears and your forehead is unbearably hot. He's close to you. You can feel his warmth. With a soft sigh, he blows a plume of smoke into your face, turns on his heel and leaves.

You roll helplessly to one side, and frantically thrust your hand back into your trousers. It's all you can do.

#dnkinktober #teratophillia #eggpreg

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ntonlvr · 6 months ago

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Can't Help Myself Falling Endlessly 2

synopsis: anton and y/n spark a secretive affair together word count: 4k status: 2/? (trying to update 2 times a week) genre: non idol au, fem reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers content warning: explicit sexual content, blow jobs, oral (fem), fingering, slight nipple play, man idk how to tag sorry

As the door clicked shut behind Anton, you leaned against it, trying to calm your racing heart. The memory of his kiss still lingered on your lips, and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. It felt surreal, but you couldn’t linger on it for long. Sohee would be back downstairs any minute.

Sure enough, Sohee appeared at the top of the stairs, now dressed in his pajamas. “I was coming to help, but it looks like you and Anton did everything,” he said, glancing around.

“You only went upstairs to avoid helping, so don’t even try to lie,” you scoffed, folding the blue blanket.

“You two seemed to be having fun,” he remarked, completely unaware of the emotional storm you had just weathered.

“Yeah, it was a good time as always,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old,” Sohee said, plopping down on the couch. “But at least I got paid for a full shift.”

You nodded, your mind drifting back to Anton. “I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m going to head to bed,” you said, stifling a yawn.

“Alright, goodnight,” Sohee called after you as you headed upstairs.

Once in your room, you climbed into bed, your mind buzzing with thoughts of Anton. You couldn’t wait to talk to him again, to see where this new development would lead. As you lay there, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You reached for it, hoping it was a message from Anton. Sure enough, his name lit up the screen.

____________________________________________________________________________

Texting

anton: I can’t stop thinking about tonight. Can we talk?

y/n: absolutely. im still wide awake.

anton: Same here. I still can’t believe we kissed. How are you feeling?

y/n: honestly, my heart is still racing. i havent been able to stop smiling lowkey…

anton: Me too. I’m going to say something, but don’t judge me haha

y/n: judgment free zone

anton: I have wanted to kiss you for a while now.

y/n: really? because me too, i’m glad i finally did

y/n: might i just add, i like the way your lips felt on me …

anton: Oh, I’m glad you think so. Maybe we should do it again.

y/n: god i wish i could have some of you right now. i wish we didn’t get interrupted …

anton: Trust me, I wish the same thing.

y/n: maybe we can just have a little fun now …

anton: Mmm, tell me what you have in mind.

y/n: i really want to feel your hands on me and your lips exploring every inch of me

anton: I want that too. I swear I can feel you right now.

y/n: i would love to feel you right now, i barely got the chance earlier

y/n: i need you now… what if you snuck over tonight? sohee is playing video games downstairs

anton: My one question. Are we both on the same page about keeping whatever this is a secret. Until we figure out what it is we want?

y/n: yes, i agree. but pls can you hurry over. i’ll run down and unlock the door.

____________________________________________________________________________

As Anton read Y/N’s last message, a surge of desire coursed through him. He glanced around his room, heart pounding with anticipation. The idea of sneaking over to your place ignited a thrilling excitement within him, but he knew they needed to be cautious.

Quickly, Anton grabbed his keys and silently crept down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The night air was cool against his skin as he stepped outside, leaving his car behind and opting to walk the short distance to your place. Every step felt charged, thoughts of your touch and their shared desires racing through his mind.

Arriving at your doorstep, Anton took a moment to collect himself, his heart racing at the thought of your touch. The house was dimly lit, the silence broken by the faint hum of appliances and Sohee yelling at whatever game he was playing in the basement. Anton tiptoed through the hallway and up the stairs into your bedroom.

After entering, Anton closes the door with deliberate care to dampen any noise from the latch. When he turns around, he finds you still in the oversized hoodie from earlier, now accompanied by a pair of light blue panties instead of the gray shorts.

Anton had always been the shy type, reserved and cautious in his interactions with others. But with you, it was different. There was something about the way you looked at him, the way your eyes held a feeling of warmth that emboldened him like nothing else. Your presence alone seemed to dissolve the barrieres he usually kept around himself.

Anton stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of you in the low-lit room. The soft glow accentuated every curve he could see. His gaze lingered on you, a mix of desire and admiration evident in his eyes. Without a word, Anton crossed the room, swiftly taking off his shirt in the process. He reached out, his touch gentle yet determined, conveying a depth of emotion that words could not capture. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, sending a shiver down your spine as you pressed closer to him.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the heat building between you. His lips found yours, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since your last encounter. The kiss was hungry, passionate, filled with a longing that spoke volumes of unspoken desires and shared moments.

Anton’s lips trailed down your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured, “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.” His voice, usually soft-spoken, carried a husky edge filled with some desperation.

Anton's hands roamed over your back, tracing the lines of your spine beneath the fabric of the hoodie. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through you, making your breath catch in your throat. Every caress, every touch seemed to deepen the connection between you, erasing any distance that had existed.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you whisper back, “Your hands feel so good, Anton.” your words hung in the air, as you traced patterns over his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles release under your touch.

Anton’s hand caressed her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips. “I have wanted to kiss you like this for so long,” he admitted, his voice thick with longing.

You smiled softly, eyes locking with his, “I’ve wanted this too,” you confessed, your voice above a whisper. You leaned in, capturing his lips in another kiss, deeper and sloppier than before. Anton carries his touch under your hoodie and takes your breasts in hands, now carefully playing with your nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. You allow him better access to your body by taking off the hoodie, now exposed to the chill in the air.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you, voiced with awe. He leaned in, this time pressing his kisses right on your chest. He takes in one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around. You arch into his touch, loving the way his gentle motion takes you over. His fingers dance along your sides, teasing the sensitive spots that make you gasp and moan in delight.

With a sudden surge of boldness, you gently push Anton back onto the bed. He looks at you, eyes wide with surprise and lust. You smile, teasing a glint in your eyes. Your fingers trace the outline of his jaw, moving down his neck to his chest. You place soft, lingering kisses along the path where your fingers had been, feeling him tense and relax at your touch. You savor the way he reacts, the way his breath hitches and his body responds.

You continue your journey downward, your kisses trailing from his chest to his abdomen. You can feel the heat of his skin, the way goosebumps appear as you leave wet kisses here and there. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pause, looking up at him with a mischievous smile. With just that look, Anton’s eyes darken with desire, lifting his hips to slide his pants down and kick them away.

As you take in the sight of him, your breath catches in your throat. You had always found Anton attractive, but seeing him like this–completely exposed, eyes filled with hunger, muscles taut with anticipation–leaves you momentarily stunned. The way his chest rises and falls rapidly, the glisten of sweat forming in his skin, the intensity in his gaze… it’s almost too much to take in. The reality of having such a powerful effect on him hits you with a force that takes your breath away. “Wow” is all you can manage to say at that moment.

Your eyes travel down, and when they reach his member, you’re taken aback by its size. Not truly getting to notice from your earlier encounter. You blink in surprise, a flush creeping up your cheeks. It’s larger than you expected, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to proceed. The sheer size of him is intimidating, yet only fuels your desire to pleasure him even more.

As you move closer to his most sensitive areas, you take your time, savoring the taste and feel of him. You start by trailing gentle, wet kisses along the length of his shaft, feeling him throb under your lips. He lets out a low groan, the sound sending a thrill through you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the salty essence of his arousal, and his reaction is immediate–a sharp intake of breath, his hips twitching involuntarily.

You wrap your hand around the base, feeling the thickness and heat of him. Slowly, you take him into your mouth, inch by inch, adjusting to his size. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you, is intense. You hollow your cheeks and create a tight seal with your lips, moving down further, feeling him slide deeper into your throat. His hands find their way to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands, a gentle pressure guiding you but allowing you to maintain control.

You set a steady rhythm, your mouth moving up and down his length, your tongue tracing patterns along the underside. You vary the pressure and speed, taking him deep into your throat one moment and teasing his tip with light flicks of your tongue the next. His moans grow louder, his breaths more ragged, as you drive him closer to the edge.

You glance up at him, locking eyes as you continue your attack. The look of pure pleasure on his face, the way his muscles tense and hips lift to meet your movements. You increase the intensity, taking him deeper, your hand working in tandem with your mouth.

His moans become more urgent, his grip on your hair tightening. When you sense he’s closer you pull back slightly, focusing on the head, your tongue swirling and lips sucking with increased fervor. His whole body shudders, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips.

You pause for a moment, your hand still working him slowly, looking up at him with a playful yet serious expression. “Anton,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but filled with authority. “You need to be quiet.”

His eyes widen slightly, and he nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. You continue, this time more slowly, more sensually, your mouth working in perfect harmony with your hand. You maintain eye contact, watching as he bites his lip, trying to stifle his moans.

You resume your rhythm, your mouth moving up and down his length with renewed determination. His body tenses and relaxes under your touch, his attempts to stay quiet adding an extra layer of intensity to the moment. You can see the effort he’s making to remain silent, his face contorted with pleasure and concentration. You feel his body shudder again, signaling his impending climax. You increase your pace, your tongue paying more attention to the tip, your hand stroking the rest of his member. His grip tightens in the sheets, and you can see the strain in his eyes as he tries to keep from crying out.

When he finally releases, it’s with a muffled groan, his body convulsing with pleasure. You take in every drop, swallowing and continue to suck gently, milking him of every last bit of his release. As you lie there, you both breathing heavily, Anton looks you in your eyes, a mischievous smile now forming on his lips. “My turn,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with promise. Before you can respond, he rolls you onto your back, his hands exploring your body with a new purpose.

His fingers trail down your sides, sending shivers through you. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Remember, we have to be quiet.” The huskiness in his voice makes your breath catch, the anticipation building within you. His mouth moves to your neck, placing soft, teasing kisses along your skin. You bite your lip, stifling a moan as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear. His hands roam over your curves, caressing and kneading your flesh with a gentle yet firm touch.

He continues his journey downward, his kisses trailing from your neck to your collarbone, then lower to your breasts. Once again, his tongue flicks over one nipple while his hand massages the other one, the sensation making you arch into him. You struggle to keep your moans quiet, his touch so overwhelming, but so good. Opting for holding one of your hands over your mouth. Anton pauses, much like you had, looking up at you with a devilish grin. “You have to stay quiet,” he reminds you playfully, his voice barely above a whisper. The challenge in his eyes only makes you want him more.

He returns to his actions, his mouth leaving a trail of fire down your abdomen. When he reaches your hips, he takes his time, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin there. Your hands grip the sheets, your body begins trembling as you wait for what he does next. You had purposely chosen your light blue panties, knowing it was Anton’s favorite color. Anton’s fingers brushed against the edge of your panties, and he looked up. “Mmm, light blue, huh? Trying to drive me even more crazy?” he teased, his voice low.

You let out a little laugh, cheeks flushing. “Maybe,” you murmured, your gaze locking with his.

His touch became more deliberate, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned closer. “Well, it’s working,” he whispered, his eyes hard with desire. His fingers brushed against your panties, and he smirked. “God, you’re so wet for me already,” he says in a breathy tone. He let his fingers press gently against the damp fabric, feeling the heat emanating from you. “I can feel how much you want this,” he added, his tone laced with excitement. When his lips finally meet your core, a soft gasp escapes your lips. His tongue flicks out gently, exploring your folds with tender curiosity. You arch your back, a quiet moan slipping past your lips as pleasure courses through you.

Anton’s movements are deliberate and skilled, something you didn’t know until this very moment. His tongue tracing patterns that make your toes curl. He finds your clit, circling it with gentle pressure, and you bite your lip to mute a louder response. His fingers join in, gently parting your folds to expose your most sensitive spots. He dips a finger inside you, his touch sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

You squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations he evokes. Anton’s pace quickens slightly, his ministrations driving you closer to the edge. You grip the sheets, trying desperately to maintain composure as pleasure builds within you.

As you near the peak, Anton’s tongue becomes insistent, his fingers working in tandem to bring you to the brink. You struggle to keep your breathing steady, the need to stay quiet intensifying the pleasure.

Finally, you can’t hold back any longer. With a soft cry that echoes into a stifled whimper, you release over Anton’s fingers, waves of ecstasy washing over you. Anton continues his gentle assault, prolonging your pleasure until you finally relax into your bed. His touch is gentle yet firm as he kisses your inner thigh, then comes up to capture your lips. You respond eagerly, pulling him closer as your hands slide up his back, feeling the tension in his muscles under your touch.

As you both lie together, catching your breath after the intensity of your passion, a thought crosses your mind. You shift slightly, breaking the silence in the room.

“Anton,” you mumble softly, your fingers tracing light patterns on his chest, “do you have a condom?”

Anton meets your gaze with a warm smile, his eyes hooded but still gleaming. He nods and reaches for his tossed pants, retrieving the condom. “Yes,” he replies in a low, reassuring voice, “I came prepared.” he breathes out. Feeling his hardness against you, you instinctively press closer, craving more of his warmth and closeness. The intensity of your mutual desire pulses between you, palpable in every touch, every caress. Anton’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips find yours in a hungry kiss.

“I want you,” Anton murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with longing and urgency. His confession stirs a response in you, a deep yearning that matches his own. You reciprocate eagerly, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, pouring all your passion into that moment.

“Anton,” you whisper, breathlessly, “I’ve been wanting this…wanting you.” As he rolls on the condom with practiced ease, his eyes never leave yours, filled with lust and reverence. You feel his hardness against you, a tangible reminder of his attraction to you.

“Y/N,” Anton breathes against your ear, his voice thick with need, “Are you sure?”

You met his gaze with unwavering intensity, your own desire burning brightly. “Yes,” you tell him, your voice tinged with anticipation and longing. “I’m begging you.”

A low growl escapes Anton’s throat at your words, his own yearning mirroring yours. With a swift movement, Anton positions himself above you, his gaze locked in with yours as he enters you slowly. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock. The sensation of his sizable member filling you up completely sends a rush of pleasure throughout your body.

You gasp at the intensity of the feeling, arching into him, yearning for more of his touch, more of the overwhelming ecstasy only he can bring. Anton’s movements are deliberate and controlled, each thrust drawing a moan from your lips. “Y/N,” he breathes against your skin, his voice rough, “you feel so good.”

But then, unexpectedly, he changes his rhythm. Instead of deep and penetrating thrusts, Anton begins to move shallow, teasing strokes. Each shallow thrust grazes against your most sensitive spots, sending electric currents of pleasure through you. Your breath hitches as this new sensation overwhelms you, and you find yourself gasping for me.

The teasing trusts drive you wild, making your body tremble with need. “Anton, please,” you whimper, your voice shaky with desire.

He smirks against your neck, enjoying the effect he has on you. “You want more?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl.

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging into his skin. “Harder, please.”

Anton’s restraints snaps at your plea. He adjusts his position and begins to pound into you with a powerful, relentless pace. Each movement is intense, his hips slamming against yours with a force that makes you cry out in pleasure. The feeling of him driving into you, hard and deep, sends waves of ecstasy crashing through you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

Anton’s hands roam your body, exploring every curve and eliciting shivers of pleasure. His touch firm yet tender, heightening the senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating blend of lust and longing. Desperate for more contact, you whimper softly, your voice thick with need, “Anton, please, touch me.”

With one hand steadying himself beside you, his other hand slides down your body, fingers finding your sensitive bud. He circles it slowly at first, teasingly, before applying just the right amount of pressure and speed that has you arching into him with a cry of pleasure.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, your voice trembling, “right there, please don’t stop.”

Anton’s grin is both wicked and tender as he watches your reactions, his own desire evident in the controlled urgency of his actions. “You look so beautiful when you beg,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. As the tension builds, Anton’s breathing becomes heavier, and his movements become sloppier. You can feel him starting to tremble, his control slipping as he nears his own climax. “Y/N,” he groans, his voice raw and filled with need, “I’m so close.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, your voice laced with anticipation. Your word spur him on, and with a final, deep thrust, Anton comes undone, his body shuddering with the force of his release. His moan of pleasure raw and primal, his eyes squeezing shut as he surrenders to the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy. The sight and the sound of him losing control sends a rush of heat through you, pushing you closer to your own edge.

As Anton’s climax subsides, his fingers on your clit maintain their motion, the pressure and speed perfect for driving you over the edge. “I want to see you let go,” he tells you. His words are the final push you need. Your body arches up, and you cry out his name as your orgasm takes over you, each wave more intense than the last. Anton watches you, his eyes filled with admiration, his hand stopping until you are completely spent.

As the final tremors of your climax fade, you collapse back onto the bed, your breathing heavy and uneven. Anthon gently pulls you into his arms, his touch tender and reassuring. “That was incredible,” he says in a hushed tone.

You smile up at him, “It really was,” you agree, your voice still breathless. For a moment, you both lie there in the quiet, the intensity of the moment slowly giving way to a warm, comforting afterglow. Anton’s fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin, and you snuggle closer to him, feeling content and safe in his embrace.

Finally, Anton breaks the silence, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. “Y/N, I like that we’re keeping this a secret for now, just to see what we really want.”

You nod, understanding the importance of this discretion. “I agree,” you say, your eyes meeting his. “But whatever this is, I’m glad we’re doing.”

Anton smiles, his eyes shining with affection. “Me too,” he says, pulling you closer.“ The room is filled with a comfortable silence, only the sound of your breathing and occasional creak if the house settles around you. Eventually, Anton shifts slightly, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t want this to end, but I should probably go before Sohee comes upstairs.”

“You’re right,” you say softly. With one last lingering touch, Anton slips out of bed and begins to gather his clothes. As he dresses, you can’t help but stare at his body, still in awe at how good he looks. Anton pauses at the door, glancing back at you with a smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Anton,” you reply, your heart full as you watch him leave. The door closes softly behind him, and you lie back on the bed, a contented smile on your face.

#riize #riize x reader #lee anton x reader #anton scenarios #riize imagines #riize anton #riize smut #riize smau #riize anton x reader #riize scenarios #riize lee changyoung #anton lee #lee anton #lee chanyoung #anton smut

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ashley-foster-13 · 3 months ago

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I normaly don't like to read angst but the voices are speaking to me so, I have this idea for a while "what if W.C.K.D kidnapped reader and did some experiments on her. And when the tmr boys founded her she was a crank. Basically what would their reaction be if they saw the reader as a crank. I used she/her pronouns for to wrtite this request but the reader can be gender neutral. I am sorry if my writing is wacky its late at night and I don't know what am I doing

You are a crank

"Y/n, NO!” someone shouts, but a WICKED soldier is already dragging you away. You kick and scream and bite and hit but can’t free yourself from the firm grasp.

Janson found the Right Arm, and all of it was Teresa’s fault.

“I hate you, you hear me? You’re killing them!” you yell, still kicking. “Rot in hell!”

You can’t see a thing, wither from anger, or tears, or the hair wind keeps blowing in your face. Then there is a spark of pain, someone punches you in the stomach. You collapse on your knees.

“Help,” you whimper, but your voice is too weak, and people around you are too loud.

With hope fading in your heart, you let loose and allow the darkness to consume you.

You aren’t sure how long you have been awake. You aren’t sure you are awake.

It feels like you’re drowning in memories and feelings, some real and some not.

Pain.

Grief.

Surprise.

Hope.

Love.

Pain.

People are talking, but you brain can’t differentiate any words. It all sounds like a song or a moan, and with every passing second grows louder.

Pain.

You try to scream, but no sound comes out. You can’t feel your body. Then it all goes black again.

“Y/n!”

You sleep.

And then you wake, and you wish you didn’t. Ever.

In the mirror just by the bed, you saw a person in the reflection. Not human.

Black eyes, dark circles around them. Hollow cheeks, bony limbs. It looked like you haven’t been eaten in a few months. Maybe you haven’t.

It was so surreal, for a moment you thought it was just another nightmare, another vision.

But then you hear the voices of your friends, and realize that’s not the case.

You feel something cold on your face, and only when you look in the mirror again you see black tears running from your eyes.

“Y/n! She’s awake,” Minho says. He takes you by shoulders carefully and tries to make you face him, but you don’t let him.

“Y/n, you alright? You bloody scared us all,” you heard Newt limp closer. A familiar sound of his uneven steps forced the memories rushing to your mind, warm memories of the Glade.

Your sobs are the only sound in the silent room.

“Y/n..?” It’s Thomas, sounding like he already knows the ugly truth. So, ugly as you are now, you turn to their simultaneous gasps.

“Bloody hell,” Newt mutters, staring at you in disbelieve, his body gone stiff.

He was the first Glader you ever saw, the one who helped you adjust in that cruel world.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, because now you’re gonna have to leave them, and all their efforts to rescue you were for nothing.

Minho bows his head and closes his eyes, trying to block out the tears, but a few escape.

You got really close because you were his running partner back in the Glade. Now he will ave to run alone.

“Hey, listen to me, alright?” in two long strides Thomas crosses the room and grabs your shoulders. He doesn’t speak until you look him in the eyes. “We’ve got the cure. We cured Brenda, remember? We can still save you.” At these words, Minho ran out, probably searching for Mary. “Just don’t give up, alright?”

“He’s right, we’ll save you,” Newt is out of his stupor by now, but his voice is slightly shaking.

“What if it doesn’t work?” you whisper. You can already feel the Flare getting to your mind, twisting it to form the most violent ideas and crazy thoguhts.

“There!” Minho pants, back with the doctor.

“Thomas, I need your blood,” Mary calls.

At that moment, everything hurts again, and you think you pass out.

Until you hear gunshots.

“A crank!”

“Kill it!”

“Step back!”

And you do, stumbling over your own feet and falling to the floor.

When you look up, you see Newt crouching on the floor not far from you, clutching his bad leg and uttering curses under his breath. Then you look at your hand that is holding a dagger soaked in scarlet, and you understand.

You could have killed him.

You almost killed your friend.

Hating yourself more than the Flare, more then Teresa or WICKED, you bring the knife to your throat.

“Y/n, no!” Thomas shouts, grasping your wrists and holding them behind your back. “It’s okay.” he soothes, but you know it’s a lie.

“No, no, no. It’s not okay. It’s not okay. It’s not…” You whimper, trying your best to stay human.

“It’s okay, Y/n, just hold on, yeah?” Newt calls.

He doesn’t sound like it’s okay.

Then Mary is in front of you with a syringe, and all that’s left for you to do is pray.

#tmr #tmr books #tmr newt #newt tmr x reader #tmr minho #maze runner #tmr thomas #tmr fanfic #tmr imagines #the maze runner

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myfavouritelunatic · 3 months ago

Text

More Painful Sacrifices - Chapter Four

I'm certain there are many other takes on that kiss after last weeks episode, but here is mine! All in good fun.

Hope you enjoy! ❤️

She had come so close to freedom.

Galadriel barely made it out into the open air before she was apprehended. A group of orcs ensnared her as she tried to flee, too many of them for even her cunning and skill. And when she was brought before Adar with cries of “She escaped, Lord Father!”, the uruk spoke nothing of it. He only cast his gaze to the storm clouds overhead that were already beginning to disperse, then with a knowing look, he commanded that the elf be thrown back in the prisoner cart. “Since you are so keen on travelling.” He stated coolly. “I have the perfect place to take you. And it is not to him.”

She waited alone in the darkness for what felt like days. The only sounds to keep her company had been the snarling and screaming of orcs nearby, and in the distance…

She did not wish to dwell on what was befalling her kin in Eregion.

Eventually, the wood and metal of the cage began to rattle and shake as Galadriel was finally on the move. Being taken to Eru knows where, to await a fate that was simply out of her hands. But if she had the chance, she would not put down her sword unsullied.

Hope had filled her heart for a moment, when she heard the elven horn blow, that Eregion might not be completely lost. But that hope almost fled from her entirely when she realised where she was, and who was coming for her.

A surreal sight it had been on that battlefield. Galadriel, in her mobile cage, stunned as the dark cloth was pulled away to reveal her very kin charging toward her. At the fore of this legion was Elrond. It pained her to see him, for she did not wish her friend to be in any kind of peril, but she knew his duty to his people must come first.

And his duty to her as well.

The words she had spoken to him, begging him to put defeating Sauron above her own life, echoed in her mind, and she hoped they did in his as well. Especially when the sharpened tip of an orc spear pierced her neck.

Don’t stop Elrond. Keep charging.

But he did stop, and Galadriel was dismayed. What was to happen now?

Negotiations. Deal making. More promises made by Adar that he would not keep. The she-elf now stood shackled to a post, watching her enemy and her closest friend barter for her life. Hearing Adar giving Elrond the same pitch. “Leave Sauron to me.”

She was still and silent, but within she was screaming. Imploring her friend to sacrifice her. Adar must not get Nenya. He cannot be trusted.

You must sacrifice me, Elrond.

And then to her relief, he did just that. He refused to give Adar what he wanted, and reaching an impasse, Elrond rose to his feet, resigned and mournful, asking permission to say goodbye to Galadriel.

But as he turned to her, her friend he was not.

He was the Deceiver.

Halbrand, Sauron, in his burgundy armour, rings across his chest. Once again, he was the spitting image from her memories, deepening that ache in her heart. But only now, he was the one who might ease it. Galadriel was glad for his presence.

That he had come for her after all. In some form at least.

Do not give me away, elf. He spoke in her mind.

What purpose would that serve? She replied, sending the words with her eyes. I do wish to escape, Halbrand. So whatever it is you intend to do, do it now, and do it fast.

His laugh echoed in her mind. Equally chilling and exciting. But we shall want to savour this, yes? Your last moments in captivity. And me, saving you… right under that wretched creature’s nose.

Yes you… saving me… more directly this time it would seem. But still not how I wanted it.

Since you did so well breaking free the last time, Galadriel… She could hear the eye roll in his voice. But I am here. To free you.

How?

Wait…

Halbrand walked towards her slowly, solemnly, portraying to her the expression he was no doubt making ‘Elrond’ wear. Galadriel knew not if this was a possession of some sort, an illusion of the mind, or... then where was Elrond? Did Sauron have him imprisoned as well? Stashed away somewhere in Eregion with Celebrimbor? Certainly not.

But he certainly could not be here right now? Could he?

“Forgive me.” He uttered quietly in their native tongue. Galadriel did not want his forgiveness, nor Elrond’s even if he was here. She did not know if she could ever forgive Halbrand for what he did. But, understanding quickly that this was a part of the deception, Galadriel played along.

“Win.” She responded, knowing it was what she wanted Elrond to do against Adar, but also knowing it was what she wanted from Halbrand in this moment. To succeed.

Her own deception.

Though that was who stood before her now, appearing to her as the lost king she longed for. But there was no deception in his eyes. No glints of malevolence or mistrust. Halbrand gazed at her with truth. With love. It was almost as if the ruse slipped away, leaving nothing but the two of them alone in this shelter, the haze of war seeming thousands of leagues away.

He had set her free.

Halbrand raised his hand to Galadriel’s face, and she leaned into the caress of his fingertips, his thumb almost stroking her lips. She closed her eyes a moment as she began to understand what was happening. What ‘Elrond’ was going to do. But when she opened them again and looked up to see only Halbrand’s face staring back down at her, so close now, she saw in him the man she wanted him to be. The man she knew he could be.

Her love.

Then without hesitation, only certainty, Halbrand swept in to meet her in a kiss.

It was almost chaste how their lips gently pressed against each other. Galadriel quivered. Though something was different this time. This sensation was unlike their tryst in her cell, where his mouth had latched itself to her throat. Not only had that been pure lust, but there was a surrealness in it, in part because of the knowledge it was in her mind and that he had not actually been present, but also because of the power of his vision, his magic working its wonder on her. There was an unreal spark in it. Like a flame tickling her skin that did not burn.

But Galadriel was burning now.

This was different.

He was here.

She wanted to weep with joy, with relief, but she stopped herself, remembering that to everyone else, it was Elrond they were seeing.

I told you I was here, Galadriel. Halbrand whispered in her mind.

She had never wanted to savour a kiss more in her life, for it meant more than any words that could ever be spoken.

But what did it mean for him? Was this Sauron surrendering to the light? Was he going to turn the tide and cease this wasteful war? Spare Celebrimbor? All questions Galadriel needed answering, all answers she prayed she would find in her escape.

The kiss sadly did end, and Halbrand let his head come to rest upon hers, a moment of tenderness between two enemies, but also two beings who were much more than that. Galadriel hoped she could find a way to bring him to her side. It seemed now, truly, that he was in reach, not just in body, but in heart and mind to remain with her.

She felt him slip a pin, the means of her escape, delicately into her hand, making it look like a lingering touch, which was easy because in part, it was. Then Halbrand pulled back and shared with Galadriel a final gaze. He sold the mournful expression of farewell so convincingly, the she-elf almost believed it, which served to stir a fear in her heart she did not like. Looking at him stunned, herself in a state of disbelief about all that had just transpired, Galadriel called to him in her mind.

You are not leaving me, Halbrand?

He did not answer her. And when he turned to walk away, his lieutenant in tow, Galadriel spied the guise of Elrond once more.

Her heart sank. She had been so certain it was Halbrand’s lips upon her own. Had he even been here at all?

But then, a reply.

I never left, Galadriel.

Now follow.

Come to me.

#haladriel #saurondriel #galadriel #halbrand #sauron #the rings of power #trop fanfiction #trop spoilers #rop spoilers

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ntonluvr · 6 months ago

Text

*REPOST*

Can't Help Myself Falling Endlessly 2

REPOST ON BACKUP FOR SAFETY

Sure enough, Sohee appeared at the top of the stairs, now dressed in his pajamas. “I was coming to help, but it looks like you and Anton did everything,” he said, glancing around.

“You only went upstairs to avoid helping, so don’t even try to lie,” you scoffed, folding the blue blanket.

“You two seemed to be having fun,” he remarked, completely unaware of the emotional storm you had just weathered.

“Yeah, it was a good time as always,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old,” Sohee said, plopping down on the couch. “But at least I got paid for a full shift.”

You nodded, your mind drifting back to Anton. “I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m going to head to bed,” you said, stifling a yawn.

“Alright, goodnight,” Sohee called after you as you headed upstairs.

______________________________________________________________

Texting

anton: I can’t stop thinking about tonight. Can we talk?

y/n: absolutely. im still wide awake.

anton: Same here. I still can’t believe we kissed. How are you feeling?

y/n: honestly, my heart is still racing. i havent been able to stop smiling lowkey…

anton: Me too. I’m going to say something, but don’t judge me haha

y/n: judgment free zone

anton: I have wanted to kiss you for a while now.

y/n: really? because me too, i’m glad i finally did

y/n: might i just add, i like the way your lips felt on me …

anton: Oh, I’m glad you think so. Maybe we should do it again.

y/n: god i wish i could have some of you right now. i wish we didn’t get interrupted …

anton: Trust me, I wish the same thing.

y/n: maybe we can just have a little fun now …

anton: Mmm, tell me what you have in mind.

y/n: i really want to feel your hands on me and your lips exploring every inch of me

anton: I want that too. I swear I can feel you right now.

y/n: i would love to feel you right now, i barely got the chance earlier

y/n: i need you now… what if you snuck over tonight? sohee is playing video games downstairs

anton: My one question. Are we both on the same page about keeping whatever this is a secret. Until we figure out what it is we want?

y/n: yes, i agree. but pls can you hurry over. i’ll run down and unlock the door.

___________________________________________________________