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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

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Meet the Family 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, when is the wedding?” Lillians asks over a half-empty plate.

You take your time chewing. You don’t have an answer. As far as you’re concerned, this is Lloyd’s plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine.

“Uh, the spring,” he blurts out.

“The spring?” Gwenyth repeats. “Don’t you have a specific date?”

“Erm, May something...” Lloyd says.

“May? That’s so soon. If you don’t even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--” Lillian counters.

“Oh, well, we were thinking of. Er...” Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. “Eloping?”

“Eloping,” Gwenyth hisses. “Eloping? Does that mean we’re not invited? It’s simply not fair.”

“Mom, I--”

“Gwen, he didn’t say that, did he?”

“Well, dad--”

“We are invited,” William states. It’s not a question.

“You see what happens?” Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, “the groom’s mother is always excluded. He is my son--”

“A destination wedding would be nice,” William suggests.

“Uh, of course. Yeah. We’d like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...” Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, “We’ll have the invitations out soon. Everyone’s invited of course--”

You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, “we’re still figuring things out,” he declares.

“Oh, it seems so!” Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. “Darling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.”

“Which one?” Lloyd snickers.

“We’ll see if you even have one,” his sister retorts.

He cackles and William sighs.

“Yes, weddings. All that mess,” William drawls. “The ladies can suss out the details but I do believe it’s time for the yearly rematch.”

“You still do that?” Lloyd asks.

“Hm, of course. It is a tradition. What’s the matter? You too old, boy?”

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe.

Another surprise, William laughs.

“Ben may need to sit out,” William suggests.

“Oh, to the contrary, old boy, I’ve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,” the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug.

“Hm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,” William counts on his fingers, “Dawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.”

You look at Lloyd confused. He doesn’t look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you.

“Is this some sort of cribbage tournament?” You scoff under your breath.

He shakes his head. “Touch football...”

“Football...” You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow.

“It’s fine. Just like tag,” Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. “What?” He asks.

“I’m just trying to picture it,” you say. “You don’t seem like a football person.”

“What does that mean? You don’t seem like one either? What would you know?” You hiss back.

“Ah, dear,” William calls across the table, “do not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.”

Despite his assurance, you’re even less convinced that there won’t be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, it’s Lloyd’s problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine.

You reach to drain your glass, “I’m not worried at all,” you smile, “oh, and honey,” you turn to Lloyd, “you never asked but I love football. I’m a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.”

Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. You’re not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as they’ve accused you.

You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says.

You bat your lashes and smirk. You’re amused that he thinks you’re that concerned.

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. There’s no one you can pay to run the ball for you,” you snort.

You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean.

“You’ll enjoy it. It’s always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,” she trills. “Of course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.”

“Oh, it sounds like a fun tradition,” you remark.

“It’s wonderful fun,” she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, “also, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasn’t keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.”

You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it won’t worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, let’s keep those thoughts inside.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to thank him for that,” you wink. She frowns.

“Leave the plates at the sink, ladies,” Gwenyth commands. “Let’s grab out coats! The powder’s fresh. It’ll be a good match.”

It’s odd. You really didn’t take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you can’t help but be a little amped for a Christmas game.

There’s a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillian’s bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who.

Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you haven’t been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. It’s rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillian’s coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kids’ table apart from their mother.

The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck.

“You going to cheer me on, baby girl?” He smirks at you.

You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of ‘hell no’ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isn’t one. The entry way is packed with bodies.

“It will be cathartic. You’d just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,” he snickers.

You look at him dully, “oh, I'm certain you’ll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.”

“You love to see it,” he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, “for good luck.”

“You’re nasty.”

“Look at who you came with, sweetheart,” he sticks his tongue out and turns away. “But I understand if it’s my ass you’re watching out in the snow.”

You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, “over there.”; “Ben, too far”, “No, you snap--”

You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday.

William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. You’re not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, it’s better than arguing at the dinner table.

Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic.

The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawson’s shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point.

Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. They’re not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists.

“You know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,” Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but you’re not so sure you’d trade the cold outside for that inside.

The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. You’re a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. That’s less shocking.

Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of William’s brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or what’s assumed to be that man.

A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. “Blood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...” Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head.

“Offside,” you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransom’s across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man.

“Oh my!” “Gosh.” “Ransom...” The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow.

The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them.

“You two,” William booms.

“Oh, Ransom, what are you doing?” Linda rushes over.

“Linda,” William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. “We were kind in letting him come here after everything--”

“Oh, don’t blame him. Your son is just as bad.”

“My son has a job,” William snarls back.

“Don’t worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,” Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. There’s a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs.

“Fucker’s weak as pudding,” Ransom jeers back.

“Both of you. That’s disgusting,” William growls. “Enough. Both of you, benched.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd whines.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re ruining the game,” William says. “Both of you, go inside.”

“He antagonized him,” Linda squalls, “you heard his play call--”

“Your son’s grown. He can handle words,” William rebuffs. “You can go inside with them.”

You’re disappointed. It wasn’t bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off.

“He’s not worth it,” he stomps over to you. “Whatever, let’s get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.”

He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door.

Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself.

You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isn’t enough wine to make them tolerable.

He touches his cheek and hisses, “ugh, bastard.”

“Hard hit,” you say.

“Sure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?” He gingerly presses his cheekbone, “ugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?”

“What?” You grimace. “No way.”

“But it hurts,” he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out.

“Uh uh,” you cross your arms. “We need to talk. About the wedding.”

“Really? You wanna talk about that?”

“Lloyd, I said a courthouse.”

“I know but...” he pauses and glances around the entry way, “come on.”

He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and you’re once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you.

“Look, I’m just trying to get this done. It’s good for both of us. You want your money, don’t you? So you need to play along.”

“I am.”

“It’s just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.” He argues.

“It’s not what I agreed too.”

“Yeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.”

You scowl, “I really am not enjoying this whole ‘we’ narrative.”

“That’s the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.” He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Loosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.”

“It was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,” you insist.

“Not good enough. We both know it.”

“I want more money,” you grit.

He pouts again, “you drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.”

You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek.

“Two million. I’m not wearing a white dress for anything less.”

“Baby, please, you’re bleeding me dry--”

“I’m not blind, Lloyd.” You look around emphatically, “I know what I’m asking for is a fraction of what you’ll get. I’ve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, I’m being undersold. Two or I walk right now.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “let me just see a little ass.”

You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. “Not for a three million.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,” he sighs. “Two,” he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. “Let’s seal that the right way.”

He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips.

“It’s gonna happen, Pixie,” he grins. “Trust.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #meet the family #dark fic #dark!fic #the gray man

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starheavenly · 2 days ago

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hiii!!! loving your locket comics!!!!!! just wanted to ask a few questions about your process, if you dont mind :D

whats your general process like?

do you do thumbnails, how do they look like?

roughly how long does it take you to complete a comic panel or page?

how detailed are your sketches? do you do multiple?

do you have any specific techniques for lineart?

do you typically use references for your comics?

generally, how much effort and focus do you put into your comics?

do you have any advice for drawing comics?

sorry for for the absolute bombardment of questions, lmao. just really enjoy your art and comics and very interested in the behind the scenes!! feel free to skip any questions (or this whole ask) well wishes and salutations!!! :D

Hello! I'm so glad you enjoy my comics, and I totally don't mind breaking down the process!

For a normal comic page, I would likely actually write a script since it's much easier to keep track of dialogue and actions. But since these are short, I just write it into my thumbnails.

Step 1: Thumbnails. Easily one of my favorite parts, since I get to throw all my ideas down. I do these comics on a 2-panel grid, so I don't have to worry about actual paneling, and it allows me to focus more on the setup of each shot. Think of it like storyboarding!

Step 2: Add cleaner thumbs if needed. I actually made 3D models of Deadlock and Ratchet's chest in Blockbench, so I often trace them to save myself some time! (It might look insane, but I promise, for me, it's not.)

Step 3: Lettering! I actually like to get the lettering out of the way right away since it can take a while. Ever since I started treating lettering as its own form of art, my skills have gotten better, but it also takes much longer.

Step 4: Clean sketch! I'm just now finding out that people think I’m doing lineart for these? I am not… these are all just clean sketches. Maybe doing the blackwork gives the illusion of lineart?

Step 5: Color! Most of these comics are in black and white to save time, but it also lets me focus on values and shot framing again. I add my glow overlay to the eyes, and boom, done!

Roughly how long does it take you to complete a comic panel or page?

It really depends on how complicated the panels are. I like to step out of my comfort zone. I know the Grimlock and Misfire one took longer because of how many panels there were and the fact that I was drawing characters I’d never drawn before, but I’d say it usually takes around 5-8 hours for a whole page.

Do you typically use references for your comics?

I'm literally the reference GOD- we all know this. But yes, I love using references and doing character studies. I have yet to do a study on LL Drift, but I have a few references of him that I’ve made.

Generally, how much effort and focus do you put into your comics?

I mean, I wouldn't say I don't put in a lot of effort? I put in enough. I don't know… there's a point in the clean sketch process where you can kind of just turn off your brain. I'm passionate about comics, but we can all agree there's a point in a drawing where you just zone out.

Do you have any advice for drawing comics?

I think being able to balance dialogue and visuals is super important. I don't know if you guys have picked up a graphic novel from Barnes & Noble recently, but if you open a page, you'll see a character sitting with the biggest bubble you've ever seen, filled with paragraphs of text. While I get it—being a novel as much as it's graphic—I personally like to visualize emotions more. If it means adding two more panels to make an interesting dialogue setup, I don't mind doing it. Another thing to remember is that not all panels need to have details or 100% effort. Sometimes you need to simplify and move on, and that's okay! Those two extra panels that are giving you a better stage setup might be the ones that need fewer details and less time. I would consider my comic page work and my 4-panel work very different. One is about paneling, setup, and visuals, while the other is very much like storyboarding. Both are skills you learn with practice and study.

#long post #sawyersez #my art #artists on tumblr #tutorial #art tutorial

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freakymcnastys · 2 days ago

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“we can't be friends” tenya iida x fem!reader

━━ . ˚₊ ꒱ “wait until you like me again”

note: lmk if y’all want a timeskip part 2 (which would be fluff…probably)

content: hope your excited for angst. no fluff...sorry!, academic rivals, reader is kinda like beth harmon, lowkey kinda short ://

EVER SINCE YOU came to U.A it's been a competition between you and Iida from class 1A. Although the school was built and made for turning out the next heroes you didn't want to be a hero. You knew with your quirk that you would only be able to work at a corporation which is why you were in the general studies course.

This is where you met one of your best friends Shinsou. Now this guy was someone you didn't think should be in this course, his quirk was more suited for hero work which is why you've been helping him draft a letter to Principal Nezu to let him transfer into the hero course. It was a longer process then you could've guessed but you felt like you should use your quirk for something. Your quirk was called 'brain' you were basically like a human Google. People found it useful but never good enough for hero work. But at this point in your life you gave up on the pipe dream of being a hero.

You remember the first time you met him like it was yesterday. You were walking with Shinsou. Actually, you were following him more or less to where the front of class 1A's door was and many other students were at. "Hey Shin what's going on?" You asked confused at the vast amount of people. That's where you saw him. The boy with midnight blue hair and square glasses. You had a feeling he didn't know how much of a looker he was.

"Bakugou! Please don't ruin our reputation!" He exclaimed, doing a weird arm chopping motion. Well guess the blonde guys name is Bakugou, yet that didn't seem to catch your interest. You wanted to know the blue haired boys name. You barely noticed your friend talking back to the class until he was walking away. You were going to follow him until you locked eyes with the boy, he even flashed a small smile at you. It was brief but it made your cheeks heat up slightly.

"Come on y/n!" Shinsou called, pulling you back to reality. "Hey what's that guys name?" You questioned him as he raised him brow looking back to the classroom doors. "Who? Four eyes? Why don't you just use your quirk to find out?" You roll your eyes at this suggestion. "You know I don't use my quirk on people or things like that!"

"Ugh his names Iida, I think.." He huffed, pushing his hands into his pockets while walking. "Now was that so hard Hitoshi!" You beamed at him while he jokingly pushed you.

Here you were a few days later at the school library preparing for the upcoming exam. A test everyone in every course needed to take. A test you wanted to place number one on. For tests like these you were required to test with the hero course and specifically 1A which had pro hero eraserhead so you wouldn't be able to cheat on the test. Just a formality but was still such a hassle to leave your class to be in another.

You could say this is where you officially became 'Iida's rival' or so some people in 1A dubbed this little feud between the two of you.

You heard from some of the others in your course that people you should be worried about should be Iida and Momo. The first name rang a bell in your head. Suddenly the little crush you had on this guy shriveled away into the determination of getting number one on this test. Suddenly this guy was now your rival, so when you spotted him at the library an idea hit you. This Iida dudes gotta be like any other guy and a little flirting could maybe break his spirt.

Except he isn't like any other guy and your fugal attempts at flirting completely flew over his head. Well what was plan B? Beat him with your wits of course.

"You know how this works right?" Mr. Aizawa questioned as he walked you from your classroom to his. "Mhm." You retuned not fully paying attention due to the nerves and you trying to remember what you studied before. Aizawa took the hint and let silence engulf the two of you until you got to the classroom. "Take that seat next to Iida--uh Iida raise your hand."

The look on your face must've been priceless since you heard a snort come from the boy with a lighting bolt in his hair. You being sat next to him might've been the worst thing that could've happened. Now you were gonna be distracted because of this--

"Hey sorry could I borrow a pencil?" The boy in front of me whispered to me. "Oh uh sure?" As you were looking around in your pencil case you felt a pair of eyes looking at you and it wasn't the red head in front of you. "Do you mind?" You said, not even looking at Iida, who choked saliva. "What?" He questioned, fixing his glasses.

"Don't play stupid glasses. If you like my face so much why don't ya take a picture." You said sarcastically, before turning back to Kirishima to hand him the pencil. Iida just muttered something before going back to looking at his desk.

Once the test was finished you weren't gonna lie you think you did well (for not using your quirk) and now you had to wait until the bell rung for lunch so you were stuck with class 1A until after lunch.

"Hey you're that girl Iida is always beefing with right?" A girl with pink hair said, walking up to the next you were at. "Oh um yeah! Kinda sucks that's what you guys know me as.." You laugh nervously. Is this seriously how the best hero class knows you as? Well your repuation is out the window now. "No! I'm sure you're super cool! I had heard that from someone in 1B!" She quickly defends herself.

"Oh! Well I'm y/n! It's nice to meet you then!" You push out your hand in front of you to have her gladly accept it. You then learned her name was Mina and then the boy who borrowed your pencil joined the conversation but you felt like the rest of the class was also somewhat listening since you were a stranger in their class. "Hi! I'm Kirishima! What's your quirk?"

There was something about the boys smile that made you feel safe which seemed like a weird thing to think at the time. "It's called brain--I'm basically google!" You joked, smiling, which made them laugh with you. "Then that makes sense why your here." You heard a boy with green hair say. You reconginze him. He's the kid from the entrance exam that comepletly wrecked his arms and legs.

"But hey that just shows how smart you are!" Lighting bolt boy said. Mina just rolled her eyes. "Stop glazing her Denki, she doesn't want you!" This made Denki get red in embarassment but in turn some others snorted and laughed at the two.

"Probably cheated on the others.." You heard from behind you but it was more of a whisper that was accidently louder then intended. "Excuse me..?" You turned around to see Iida was a sour look on his face. He just shrugged.

Although one good thing did come out of that foul confrontation with Iida. After that happened the girl from class 1A, Mina invited you to hangout with her in her dorm. Her instructions were simple yet sketchy. ‘come to room 2c but don’t let anyone see you.’

You had texted Shinsou before you left your dorm just in case someone needed to know where you were going.

Once you got to Mina’s dorm you were met with a whole group of people. Once we all got introduced you finally learned who everyone was. Jirou and Denki were near the tv. Bakugou and Kirishima were by the balcony and Sero was now sitting me and Mina. This had to be one of the most fun hangouts you had been to in a while.

“So if you’re playing poker you could totally win all the time right?” Sero said, sipping his caprison. “Yeah I guess but I don’t use my quirk on people.” Bakugou just scoffed. “Lame!”

“Listen I have good reason! People had like weird shit going on up there alright..” The rest of the night went how you would expect. We ate, played games and eventually had to say our goodbyes. But from then in you would always hangout with what we were dubed (by the rest of your classmates) the bakusquad. Which is a stupid name by the way.

Now that you were hanging out with the “bakusquad” more, you started to become friends either others in the class too. Everyone except Iida. Although something in you wanted to be friends with him, maybe even get closer to him but any attempt was met with resistance so eventually you gave up until one day.

You were sitting on the steps in front of 1A’s dorm since you started to feel a bit claustrophobic with everyone in the common area. You hadn’t realized Iida was standing next to you until he spoke up. “Can I sit here?” He said a lot more politely than he ever has in the past.

After clearing his throat like 100 times out of nervousness Iida started. “I’m sorry for how I acted before—It wasn’t very pleasant and I shouldn’t have said or done what I did.” You could tell how sincere he was so you allowed him to continue without interrupting.

“Can we start over and be friends?” He smiled. God that smile. You remember seeing that smile the first time you ever saw him. You’ve come to love and hate it so much. Which is what possessed you to say what you did.

“We can’t be friends.” You said quietly as your breath appeared in front of you due to the cold air. “what?” He breathed out with furrowed eyebrows.

“You… just cling to your stupid papers and pens because that’s all you seem to care about.” You felt a pit in your stomach start to grow. “I-what? What are you saying?” He asked confused for the upteenth time.

“This is all I have—hell it’s all I’ll need. You can graduate and become a hero but me I have to work hard and leave with good grades so I can work at a big corporation. I just…I can’t be friends with someone who can jeopardize that right now…” You finished, standing up from you spot to have your back face him.

“But I-“ You cut him off by turning around to face him briefly. “It’s okay. I’ll just be waiting for you to like me again��especially after this.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #tenya iida x reader #tenya iida

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jarl-deathwolf · 6 hours ago

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EXCELLENT!

Ooo that is a lot of FANTASTIC information, I pulled up a document and got to work taking notes. I'll have to spend some time sorting it out into a handy reference sheet but even as-is this will help a lot.

I'm really glad I asked because this includes a lot of details that I wouldn't even know to ask, like the acidic/neutral/alkaline distinctions between forests. Between that and the wet/dry divide, now I can look at a map of around where the characters are and sus out roughly what they're looking at. It really does take away a lot of the stress when

Better yet, it gives me options so I can pick some possible environments to suit what I need in the story. Like choosing a wet forest if I need treacherous terrain, or a Celtic Rainforest to enhance the splendor of a moment.

Best of all, this gives me a vocabulary of things that I can then look up references for, and a bank of plants and animals I can pull up to add life to a scene.

One thing I've really struggled with in this story has been giving the region its own distinct feel compared to other woodlands. Which is doubly important since the entire story revolves around people desperately trying to save it (and their culture) from being destroyed by colonization and conquest.

That section was pretty thorough, so I'll have to digest it for a while before I've got more questions there.

Anyway, getting into more specific comments, as well as the map, below:

(map by @noanieactuallydrawingalot) So this is the continent where the stories take place as a whole. I may or may not have made the Fells (Fantasy Wales) something like five times as large as its real counterpart. Here is more specifically the Fells, with the three big rivers named (I assume there are many more rivers and small lakes, these are just major ones) and the historic realms of the Fells marked out

I've tentatively named some broader regions, but I'm not confident about those just yet. Red dots denote major cities. The yellow line is where the old empire's borders were - those five Fellish realms are still fully under foreign rule, with four more ruled by Marcher Lords, which is just more tenuous foreign rule.

Let me know how I did with the geography and such! I've done a lot of free time studying and took a college course about it, but things like the effects of ocean currents and wind patterns always tripped me up. Anyway, I'm glad I ended up pretty close with Old Man Ash. I think he would be fine with the informal version - the other name he gets called in the story is Grandad, so I get the sense he cares more about people being comfortable in his presence than formality. Although keep me updated on if your inlaws have a different opinion - I'll need to contact my editor to update the PDF, so I'd rather do that just once. With what you said about broadleaves being exclusively what makes up the old growth forests, I wonder if that would mean that all Dagfolk would be based on broadleaves? 🧐 Since I'm sending pictures, here is the (now properly named) Hynafwr Onn:

(art by dinwardo over on twitter)

Before I move onto the next thing, just a quick question: I have another Dagfolk (like Grandad up there). His current placeholder name is the Great Oak, and he's considered the wisest and most powerful of the Dagfolk. A personal friend of King Arthur.

I don't suppose you'd have a suggestion for a name?

I am delighted that you bring up bards because I made the main character a Fellish bard by the name of Llywela ferch Marared. She plays a crwth and I like to have her make subtle references to Welsh songs like Sebona Fi and Yma O Hyd. I gave her uncommonly red hair to imply a connection with Annwyn.

(I realize that's not the usual spelling of Annwn, but I chose it so I wasn't directly cribbing mythology and making it harder for people to learn about those myths) I also have some commissioned art of Llywela, plus the Lady of the Lake and the Merlin analogue, for what it is worth. You mentioned faeries with the peat bogs. I don't think faeries will be making a huge appearance in this story (mostly just one knight), but I'd be glad to hear about Welsh-specific faerie lore if you've got it on hand.

You also said that cheeses were a big Welsh cultural touchstone. Are there Welsh specific varieties that you can tell me about? And what sort of dishes are they made into?

Also on that train of thought, you mentioned a plant that flavors mead - would that be the go-to alcohol of choice, or are there others floating around? Both for a lord's table and what you might find in an inn.

And thanks again for the response, this really has been a treasure trove of great information for me!

Hi hello! I'm writing a story in my original world, set in a Fantasy Wales. A King Arthur Returns type story, if that matters.

I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Welsh ecology? And possibly also some cultural details?

Thanks ahead of time! And I understand if you decline or don't respond!

YES OH MY GOD YES HELLO

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fantaatix · 2 hours ago

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"i have no home now"

i remember a while back when this episode was still being highly anticipated people were debating whether or not stolas would be stripped of his title and powers, maybe even hired by blitz, and why that might be a bad thing

i'll just rip this straight from the post i found in my likes:

"Saying that Stolas needs to abdicate so their relationship can be healthy implies that a commoner really CAN'T be with royalty"

the thing is that i don't think that's necessarily what the show is trying to imply. i'll give them some credit, they posted this in august, i forget when exactly apology tour came out but i think there was a general acceptance that they'd be back together by the end of the season

i don't think that's the case either and here's why;

i think one of the overarching themes of this season is how blitz simultaneously ruins and saves people--whether or not these are his intentions varies from person to person

for example, those he believes he's ruined are his sister, fizz, his mom, and verosika

verosika is an outlier because of the fact that a) the three prior were close enough to be considered family, b) the three prior can all be pinned down to the same event, and c) i feel like he definitely meant to at least piss her off, as a means to push her away

you don't "steal their car, run three rings to wrath and max my credit on shitty horse-riding lessons" because you think it'll brighten someone's day

those he's ruined mostly want nothing to do with him, or keep themselves at a distance; barbie wants nothing to do with him, verosika hates his guts (used to, rather), and while they definitely care about each still, his friendship with fizz is not what it used to be

but now, with IMP, he seems to be on a trend of making a life for himself and giving others a new chance

these images are always paired together as like, "before and after" and i'm sure it's been mentioned dozens of times, but again--there is an outlier, and i think in this case it's moxxie

with millie and loona blitz identifies their struggles himself

with loona, he sees how rough she acts on the outside but sees the soft interior and recognises himself--he wants to give her a real chance at a life, free of judgement

with millie, it's essentially the same deal, except millie straight up tells him about her struggle to make a living and he offers her a job

but with moxxie, there is no "identification", at least not to the specifics. he's in jail, moxxie's in jail, things suck regardless. if anything, maybe blitz figured that being incarcerated was "the struggle", which is probably fair; i don't think you're gonna get "my dad is a sociopath, my mom left/died and my boyfriend left me for dead" first try

moxxie was not special to him in this moment; blitz didn't recognise some divine struggle or empathic connection, they've known each other for 30 seconds and know literally nothing about each other. blitz is looking to break out and see his daughter, that is his goal here. the question was not, "what is this guy's struggle?" the question was "can this guy work a gun?" and the answer may or may not have been yes

and you can tell, like...just by the way blitz looks at him after. it is so possible that he just planned to ditch him after they both got out but ended up not doing so for whatever reason. like, "oh wow, that definitely meant more to him than it meant to me"

that seems to be the case with all of the people he's helped in one way or another; he can't even see that he helps. it's confirmation bias, all he sees is the bad. he needs people to reel him back into reality, people like millie or fizz or maybe possibly stolas later on cough cough

but now back to the point i'm trying to make (and what brought this post to life);

first off, the face blitz makes once he is confronted with the idea that people would actually miss him if he was gone:

and secondly, these two lines:

blitz: you need a ride home

stolas: i...have no home now. everything i have is gone.

this is stolas at his most vulnerable. he has no powers, no home, his daughter is in custody of his Bitch Wife, and he has no lover.

you could argue a few of those things in western energy but in this moment he has absolutely nothing to fall back on, he is alone.

and then blitz invites him to stay with him because that's what he does, he helps people at their most vulnerable moments. he gives them a home.

that is the point here--this isn't about their relationship right now, this about blitz having an irresistible urge to protect people he cares about and acting on it, because like it or not that's his job for the time being. he's not a bodyguard but he'll be playing that role until he dies or stolas gets his powers back.

he can finally actually protect stolas now, maybe even feel fulfillment in doing so, not having to fall back on things like "i didn't think you could get hurt" and seemingly forgetting to mention the fact that "oh yeah someone's plotting to kill you you should maybe look into that"

this is where they learn trust in each other. trust and devotion.

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antizenin · 1 day ago

Text

𑁤 THE CLEANER-UPPER ⋮ BAKUGO KATSUKI

a highly-regarded murder cleaner is assigned a job at a hotel. unfortunately, when housekeeping walks in, it breaks bakugo’s streak and ability to make a clean getaway.

( fic demographics. ) boku no hero academia, bakugo katsuki, dark themes & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 7.0k words !

➛ murder cleaner!bakugo, housekeeper!reader ( fem-bodied ), mentions of murder, dead bodies & blood. smut: rough sex, bondage with a belt, anal play, fingering, degredation, spanking, etc.

Bakugo has always been thorough with everything he does, living his life in a pristine manner that his friends often teased him for. Everything he has and owns has to be placed in their designated areas or his mind will start racing and it’s as though he’s a ticking time bomb. It’s a problem that he has, but he’s made it work in his favor. Especially in his line of business.

When Bakugo’s asked what he does for work, he’s honest. He’s a cleaner. Typically, people won’t question him further. They might ask what a guy of his size and caliber is doing working a small job like that. He’s gone to a well-established university and earned a high-GPA that his academic peers are envious of. Why is he wasting such talent on a dead-end job? Surely, there are other professions and careers he could go in.

And with further elaboration, Bakugo goes into a little bit more detail, saying that he works for a private company and that he gets paid by the rich to clean up. Then, by seeing the type of stuff he’s able to afford, they can come to some sort of understanding of why he does it. A paycheck is a paycheck and does he really need a job that’s mentally taxing? They learn to dismiss further questioning, even if they’re not satisfied with the course of life in which Bakugo’s decided, and let him be. He’s got a roof over his head and is able to come home to a full fridge. He’s obviously not struggling like they have to.

But the majority of the time, that’s a stranger’s outlook on his life. People that are more dear to him have come to grow suspicious. Are the rich really that willing to pay him that much money just to clean their homes? Do they really just throw their money away just like that?

His parents, specifically his mother, have inquired plenty of times about his job. She had asked for full reports about the business he works in and Bakugo’s been willing to share. Giving his mother a business card, pamphlets and flyers, his tax information when she further insisted. And through conducting her own research, everything has checked out. Her son is indeed a cleaner. A well-paid cleaner that’s able to live in a nice luxury apartment by himself, owning a car that’s better than her own, and doesn’t have to come back to his parents for anything financial wise.

He doesn’t have to worry about a thing, and while that should make Mitsuki happy, it doesn’t. She’s proud that her son has a job and is able to support himself and doesn’t need to depend on her or her husband for anything, but she feels as if she’s not needed— not wanted anymore. He rarely calls and when he does, he makes sure to make it worthwhile, always stating how his job has kept him and away from the phone. When Mitsuki tries to make unexpected visits, he’s never home— peeking through the windows, his apartment barely looks lived in.

The more and more she thinks about it, Mitsuki realizes that this isn’t normal. Days at a time he would be absent and when he’s back it’s only for a day or two until he’s back on his feet. It’s exhausting to watch, and it surely must be twice as exhausting for Bakugo to keep working such strenuous hours. She’d try to get him to quit, seeing purple starting to form under his eyes. That’s not like her son— that’s not like Bakugo to not get at least eight hours of sleep every night. However, he’s always quick to protest, giving her every reason in the book not to. And he’d always end it that he actually loves his job and loves what he does— that it’s his outlet.

And with that reasoning only is why Mitsuki hasn’t dragged her son’s ass back home and forced him to quit already. Her boy is happy.

—

MISSION REPORT:

Asset #1080, last night Q-100’s logistics expert Shinsou Hitoshi used a known alias to check in to the Escenica hotel in Buenos Aires. Turns out that was the last mistake he ever made.

Our operative had to act fast to catch him in his room, so you may well have a bigger mess than usual on your hands.

Housekeeping will begin making rounds any time now. Make sure there’s nothing for them to find.

Disposing of the mission report right as the plane lands, Bakugo lets out an exhausted sigh. He pulls out his airpods case as he stands to his feet, plopping the small buds into his ears and hearing the habitual chime of it connecting to his device. Swerving past the private flight attendant, his footsteps are as quiet as a mouse, something that used to be unlikely before working in this field. He puts on his playlist, he always plays it when heading to a new job— it oddly relaxes him.

Heading to the black Lexus that’s sitting there waiting for him, he opens the door and hops in, not having to say a word as he’s been driven right where he needs to be. Being introduced to this line of business, Bakugo never thought he’d be someone who’d become insensitive to the sight of death and the thought of it all. However, being led through the first job and oddly finding it satisfying, he slides through every gig with ease and always concludes it a piece of cake when his agent comes to collect a completed mission report.

People think that what he’s doing isn’t challenging, always giving him looks when he tells them he’s a cleaner, thinking that what he’s doing is a waste of talent. However, he finds it to be his perfect calling, finally finding something that silences that constant creak inside his head.

When the Lexus comes to a final stop, Bakugo doesn’t bother with a farewell, more like a thankful grunt and nod before exiting the vehicle and watching as the automated doors open for him. It’s awfully quiet for a hotel, he thinks the moment he steps in. It’s close to the holidays. Shouldn't it be a little bit more crowded?

He’s not trying to wish for a difficult procedure tonight, but he finds the silence odd. However, he finds himself grateful the moment he passes a door with the body splayed out on the bed with the bed sheets covered in blood. Rushing in, he curses, “shit.”

I know they had to act fast, but couldn’t they have used some of their senses if they had any? Bakugo continues to curse under his breath the longer he stands inside of the hotel room, moving to turn the lock on the handle. He lets out a sigh as he takes a moment to himself. Scoping the scenery out, he hums to himself silently as he thinks of his options. The first thing he notices are the windows— they’ve been left open.

I could make it look like he jumped, he suggests before quickly disregarding. No, that’ll call for attention. It needs to be something silent. And something outside of this room— Turning around, he twists the door knob before remembering that he locked it, feeling something flap around underneath. Two signs for maintenance— just what he needs.

Opening the door and peeking his head through it, the coast is clear. The red ‘do not disturb’ on his door and the green housekeeping sign for the room adjacent to him. This will give him enough time to venture out and get a better look at his options.

—

By the time Bakugo’s finished his tour of the hotel, he’s managed to reroute the surveillance off of his floor and housekeeping has fallen for his small diversion, the cart parked right outside the room next to him— he’s managed to successfully snag the keys off of it as well, opening what he needs before setting them back in place. In such a short time, he’s managed to conjure up a plan to successfully hide the body— if he’s able to get the garbage chute up and running in a short period of time while also getting the staff outside of the laundry room right when he needs it. Inwardly, he cheers himself, finding this to be an easy task before instructed another assignment to complete.

Heading back inside the room, he’s found the edge of the bed frame to be falling off, and hopefully it could aid as a ladder to create a diversion for the laundry staff. Those damn workers will be in there twenty-four-seven if he doesn’t do something about it. Finding the custodial closet using the keys he borrowed, he’s managed to twist off the pipe and found some fuses that’ll help repair the garbage chute.

Bakugo thought that since it’d be a year since doing this, his heart would calm down and stop pounding against his chest, but as much as he loves it, he’s reminded of the impeccably tight schedule that he’s on and that he needs to do this fast. He moves with a haste, sorting his thoughts out with every step that he takes. Turning off the valve to the water supply, he’s figured that’ll lead to a little halt in the laundromat workers downstairs and with the garbage disposal inside of the custodial room, he can quickly get rid of the body and the blankets in no time.

Climbing down from the roof, Bakugo pauses when he hears sudden movement. “The damn water stopped working all of a sudden,” a rough voice speaks, his tone rising the more he gets angrier. “What am I supposed to do for the next seven to eight hours?”

“Calm down,” Bakugo hears next, a soft feminine voice coming from whoever the man is speaking to. With the exasperated sigh leaving their mouth, Bakugo can tell that this seems to be an ordinary occurrence of the man complaining and the woman having to hear it. “Call in for maintenance and use the rest of your shift to relax. Easy.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say,” the man scoffs. “You’re just a young thing with nothing much going on. For Pete’s sake, you’re in your twenties working in a goddamn hotel!”

Bakugo doesn’t know how the young woman’s able to keep calm when he hears her nonchalantly retort back, “And you’re in your fifties working in a hotel. Shouldn’t you be working high up in corporate by now?”

You’ve managed to silence the man, completely exiting the clean room and making your way down the line. You’ve gotten used to Aizawa’s complaining by now, but sometimes he knows just what button to push. Like now. Eyebrows rising, you see Adam's apple bob as he realizes his mistake. You have surely proven your point. In his incessant rambling, he forgot that both of you are in this circumstance and while there’s no further hope for him to better his life, you still have that opportunity. And unlike him, you have a plan on making it out of the hotel and finding a much more secure and well-paying job.

“Y’know what?” Aizawa clears his throat. “I’m gonna go read that book I’ve been meaning to catch up on the worker’s lounge.”

You curtly nod, plastering a faux smile on your face as Aizawa makes his way down the hall and out of your sight. “Tell me about it later.”

With a heavy exhale, you let out your breath as you push the cart down to the next room, forgetting to read the sign as you move to unlock it. Bakugo doesn’t move fast enough before you have the door unlocked and you’re pushing it open. The sight before you doesn’t fully register until a second too late, eyes widening and about to scream when you feel a rough hand planted over your mouth and you’re being pushed up against the wall. It went by in a flash, but it’s vivid in your mind. Pale skin sprawled out on the bed— motionless. Lifeless. Your heart is racing, panging heavily on your chest as the crimson red eyes that match the color of the blood-soaked covers peer down menacingly at you. “Do. Not. Make a sound.”

You finally make eye contact with the person that’s got you in this position. And it’s easy for you to jump to conclusions— think that he’s the killer and because you walked in on this scene, you’re going to be his next victim. Bakugo’s never been in this position before, never getting caught. He doesn’t know what to do in this predicament.

Actually, he does, but he’s not sure if he wants to carry through. He’s not a killer, only the man that cleans up. He can stomach seeing a dead body, but not sure if he can stomach actually creating one. But, he doesn’t necessarily need to do it himself. He can call his organization, have them do the job for him and he’ll gladly clean it up.

Could he, though? Could he clean up the body of his own mistake? A young and pretty woman, seemingly around his age range, who had no business being in his. Of all of his tasks and mission reports, he’s never had witnessed a woman being killed and he really doesn’t want to anytime soon.

Fuck. You’ve really put him in a predicament here. Couldn’t you read the damn sign?

“Do ya understand me?” Staring into your eyes, he can see that you’re still freaked out. You’re still breathing heavily and your heart’s still racing. Your eyes continue to divert his, trying not to make eye contact at all. His patience is running thin and everything he’s just thought will be running right through the door if you don’t calm down. So, he gives you a little “nudge.”

Shaking you, he clenches his job as he breathes once more, “do y’understand me?”

And finally does it register to you that he’s speaking, fright turning into confusion as your eyes turn glossy. “Mwhat?”

Bakugo seethes, hand pressing down harder over your mouth as he squeezes you into the wall. “Listen to me,” he checks his surroundings, reaching over to lock the door once more while simultaneously making sure he keeps his hold on you. “If ya make a sound, yer going to join this man. I have a pair of pliers that I can use to gouge out yer throat, it only takes a few seconds. Y’understand?”

Tears start to trickle down your eyes as you squeak, nodding your head in obedience. You’ve seen your fair share of movies, true crime television shows and podcasts. You don’t doubt a word that he says. And with a man of his size and caliber, if you dared to fight back, he’d tower over you in less than a second. If he goes back on his word and kills you, you hope it’d be a quick and easy one. So, in his hand, you nod once more. “I understand.”

He keeps you in that same position for a little while longer, staring into your eyes for a bit while longer before letting you go. Dropping his hand, you and him both let out a breath, but he still keeps you trapped against the wall. “Since ya decided to ignore the ‘do not disturb’ sign, yer going to help me dispose of the body.”

You rapidly nod. “Okay.”

You’re complying so easily, it makes him skeptical. “Yer not gonna fight?”

You shake your head, stammering out a “no.”

“Why not?” In response, you start to squirm within his tight hold. His big and calloused arms on your waist. So close to you, you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, so close to your neck. And his eyes, the color of rubies, despite them scorning you and scrutinizing your every move— they’re pretty. This scruff of a man with messy blond hair towers over you, bulging muscles that have easily pinned you down to the wall the moment you stepped foot into the room. The longer you look into his eyes, you realize that this man has seen some shit and has done even more terrible things. Why would you fight?

“You’d win,” you ultimately shrug. It’s enough to receive another once over from Bakugo, “You got a point.”

Peeking over Bakugo’s shoulder as best as you can, you look at the lifeless body— the corpse seemingly at peace. It makes you curious, and maybe a bit too brave. “W-why’d you kill him?”

“Huh?” Taken aback, Bakugo didn’t know how to answer your question. Should he tell you the truth or should he lie about it? Or should he evade your question altogether? Glancing behind him, at his current job, he lets out an exhale. “Just help me hide the body if you don’t want your skull bashed in.”

—

With the extra hand by his side, Bakugo was able to seamlessly dump the body inside of the garbage disposal and set everything that he had used back in its previous spot. You were compliant and didn’t argue with anything that he told you to do, able to divert and lie when questioned by your coworkers. It was as though you were familiar with this and had been working as a cleaner yourself. Bakugo was impressed. Still, he’s still unsure what to do with you.

Standing inside of the hotel room, he’s watched you clean up every crevice of the room, analyzing how you’ve fixed it up to pristine shape for the next occupant. It’s just a shame that the next person will have to deal with the ghost of Shinso Hitoshi. Dropping a spray bottle back into your cart, you slowly turn around to sheepishly view who you suspect to be a murderer. “Are you going to kill me now?”

You’ve taken him back yet again, but more so because you’ve been so calm. How are you not scared at the possibility of losing your life? He doesn’t answer your question and his silence is all that you need to finally break down. “Because before you do, I’d like to at least plead for my life!”

With the raise of your voice, your eyes widen. “Sorry,” you tone it down. “B-but… I won’t say a word. I’ll just— I’ll stay silent! Plus, you’ve made me an accomplice. If I did say anything, you could easily rebuttal it in court.”

You’ve got a point, he sighs. It’s a shocker that he didn’t even think about that before. He just made you an accomplice in the heat of things. Checking the time, it’s late and he has a bit of time for himself before he’s called in for his next task. “Are there any bars close by?”

“What?” you ask, bewildered. He gives you a look, telling you not to let him repeat himself. Gulping, you nod your head, “There’s a few not too far from here actually.”

“When do ya get off yer shift?”

Checking the time, you do the quick math. “In a little less than an hour actually.”

“Great,” he pushes himself up from off the wall. “We can discuss it over a drink then.”

“You’re not going to kill me then?” The moment you clocked out, Bakugo dragged you outside of the building and instructed you to take him to the nearest bar. As per usual, you complied, bringing him to one that you actually frequented yourself as the bartender immediately recognized you the moment you took a seat, setting a Mojito right in front of you before asking Bakugo what he wanted. With a bourbon in his hand, Bakugo cocks an eyebrow at you. “What makes ya think that?”

“You haven’t done so already,” you shrug. “I don’t know. With all my true crime knowledge, if you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it already. You’ve had plenty of opportunities.”

“Maybe I’m just having my fun with ya before I kill ya off. Have ya thought about that?” Bakugo inches into your personal space, standing up and towering over you. Purposely taking a domineering stance, he watches as fright twinkles in your eyes. Sickeningly does he find some humor in it before he sits back down on the stool. Clearing his throat, he takes another sip of his drink. “Nah, but yer right. ‘M not gonna kill ya.”

“Then why’d you bring me with you?” you ask. “Why not just send me on my way with another threat or something? It'd have worked.”

Leaning into his chair, Bakugo shrugs. “There’s just somethin’ about ya that makes ya interesting—” licking his bottom lip, his eyes grazing over your body, taking you more in. “—just need to discover what.”

—

Back pressed into the dresser, it aches as the straight edge leaves a bruise on your bare skin. His bare hands are no gentler, calloused palms that hold you down and grip your waist with a vice strength that has your heart beating against your chest. From its incessant pounding, it's caught Bakugo's attention as lets out an airy and amused chuckle. “Not scared to clean up a dead body, but yer frightened by my cock, hm?”

His breath against your neck as his teeth graze the shell of your ear. He paused and in anticipation, your body shudders. “Fear it's the one thing that's gonna kill ya? Yer a rather sick one, aren’t ya?”

You can only mewl out in pain as he pushes you further against the dresser. You can’t help but stare into those crimson eyes of his, how they’re sparkling in lust— lust directed right towards you. However, despite the pain and the haughty desire that courses through your body right now, you can only agree with him. That rush of being afraid, the possibility of losing your life and simultaneously hiding someone that’s already lost theirs. It was an exhilarating experience as you had a tall and brawn of a man that glared daggers into your chest if you dare get him caught. The possibility of aiding a criminal and becoming an accomplice no longer frightened you. No, it was the fact that you enjoyed it and now want to continue feeling that rush of living on the edge.

At the lack of response, Bakugo can only continue to chuckle in pure amusement. He’d mistaken you as a fragile being when in reality, you’re just as fucked up as everyone else is in this world. What was that saying again? The innocent ones aren’t as naive as they seem? At least it was something along those lines.

He leans over to bite down on your lower lip, thick and supple as he can taste the remnants of whatever chapstick you were wearing. You shamelessly moan at the feeling of his touch roaming your body. Big hands that reach to cup your ass and grope at them before hoisting you up on the dresser and eliciting a squeal from your lips. Who knew that a vixen such as yourself could sound so pure. Yet, Bakugo takes the opportunity to fully indulge in you, his tongue exploring the caverns of your mouth and giving you no fighting chance towards catching up. Instead, you can only moan and whimper against him as he’s in between your legs and you’re trapped in his vice grip.

Even with the assisted height of the white piece of furniture, Bakugo still has the leverage. His hips meeting your inner thighs as you feel the press of his clothed erection against your mound. Hands that previously didn��t know what to do finds themselves snaking around his neck and your nails scratching at the nape of his neck, playing with the short strands of his undercut. It drags a guttural groan from him, humming in response to your actions as he pulls away from you.

Your eyes flutter open to make contact with him once more, they’re glossy and needy as they beg for me. “Please…”

You don’t know what you’re begging for to be quite honest. You just need to feel more of him— to no longer be restrained by each other’s clothing; to feel each other’s raw bodies against each other’s. Bakugo knows exactly what you want, what you so specifically desire. And as much as he wants to give into those natural urges, he finds it fun to tease. “What’s it that ya want?”

His rough fingers start to traverse your body, from the nape of your neck down to your shoulders as goosebumps start to rise in anticipation. From the crevice of your shoulder to your waist does his fingers travel upwards to flick at the nub of your breasts and down to your navel. “What do you want inside of you, hm?”

His gruff and gravelly voice really does wonders to you, spiking up your heart rate even more that you’re concerned if this’ll turn into a medical mishap. Body still so close to yours, you can feel his body heat mixing with yours as small beads of sweat begin to form. “Do you want my fingers inside of ya?” he inquires. “The same ones that were used to hide a dead body? You’d fuckin’ like that, wouldn’t ya?”

And you nod ever so shamelessly, eyes pleading with him to make you feel full in some sort of capacity. “Ah,” he hums. “Once again, so quick to comply and say ‘yes’ to anything I tell ya. It’s kind of… pathetic.”

You let out a screech, fingers reaching for your hair and pulling ever so roughly. He’s forced you to bear out your neck, your chest heaving heavily as you pant. “Don’t you think so, too?”

You squeal out something incoherent, too fixated on the pain to contort anything understandable. However, his grip loosens as he once again pulls you in for a kiss, swallowing away the momentary pain. Pulling away once more, Bakugo looks at you to say, “don’t worry, doll. I promise to make ya feel good.”

He’s kept well on his promise, fingers stuffed inside of you as he’s still got you sat on the dresser. Legs spread open wide for him as he’s hell-bent on seeing just how well your pussy reacts to him. Your juices secrete onto the piece of furniture as your mind is fixated and captivated on this brute of a man. Two digits stuffed inside of you— thick and intimidating. The hands of a murderer, your subconscious whispers into the back of your mind, yet you can’t find the strength to fight him off. And you sure as hell don’t want to, especially when those said hands are being used to bring you to such immense pleasure right now. Has a man ever made you feel this good before?

You’re afraid to answer your own question as you’re letting another moan as your thighs begin to tighten and your sweet cunt starts clenching around his fingers. Your hand reaches to grab his wrists, but he’s unrelenting as he speeds up the pace. “Oh, God…” you cry out.

“No God here,” Bakugo smiles connivingly. “Just me, doll.”

“I— I’m gonna—”

“Let this pussy cream all over my fingers, baby,” he drawls, spreading your legs even wider with his free hand as he feels your walls pulsate around him. “Show me how much of a dirty slut you are for me.”

And the way your body follows his commands boosts his already inflated ego, a maniacal grin gracing his features as he watches your body convulse. Your mouth falls open in an ‘O’ as you have fallen speechless. A white band forms around the base of his fingers as he continues fingering you through your orgasm, a small puddle starting to form as it widens and sticks to your inner thighs as he watches you in delight. “Yeahhhh…” he breathes, barely above a whisper.

Not a complete asshole, he gives you a moment for you to relax before he’s pulling you out of your haze suddenly. Forcing your legs to wrap around his waist, he carries you over to the bed, dropping you on it and watching your body bounce on it as he’s caught you off guard. In this naked glory and now laying on the bed so vulnerably, it’s given Bakugo the better opportunity to ogle your body much more closely. He takes in your breasts and your curves down to your delectable cunt that still glistens from your orgasm. Eyes traveling back to your face, nothing beats those features of yours.

What’s a sweet little maid doing in the hands of him? You’ve surely lost your way.

Bakugo starts pulling off his own clothes, giving you a show that you have no intent on looking away from. And the way your pupils darken is all the reminder that he needs that you aren’t no saint. Reaching for his pants, he pulls at the buckle of the belt, dragging it from the loops with one aggressive swoop before dropping it on the bed. It could possibly find itself handy.

He maintains eye contact with you, as he watches you sit up on the bed. Unzipping his pants, he shimmies out of it before kicking them off and slowly crawling on the bed and over you. He feels like a predator who’s caught his prey and ready to devour you. Your eyes widen in expectancy, ready and waiting for him to pounce. Both now in an equally naked glory, you’re ready for whatever he has to give. However, from hovering over your body, he’s sitting up once more and removing such close proximity that has you confused and has you questioning his next move.

Until you feel a hand on your ankle. You can’t imagine the ease it takes to flip you over, not letting out a single grunt as he’s gotten you on your stomach now. Breasts pushed into the soft fabrics of the bed with a hand pushing down on your back as you feel his heavy-weight against you. The jingle of his belt comes to your ears as you look behind you, feeling both of your hands in his grip and he’s using the piece of leather to bind them together. He watches you intently as he smirks, “Can’t have ya movin’ ‘round while I use your perfect little pussy.”

He fixes you how he wants, forcing you on your knees as your upper body lays pliant and still. He’s got your ass and pussy out in the open for his use and he watches how your cunt is once again begging to be filled, clenching onto nothing in the search of friction. He’s got a hand around his length, hard and waiting to fill itself into you and ruin this pretty little body of yours. Dark shaft of his that’s veiny and cut tip leaking of pre, he rubs his head as the many possible ideas of what he could do to you rings throughout his mind. But with the aching throb of his cock, he knows he can’t keep withholding you what you want— what the both of you want.

With his body weight, he inches forward until you can feel his skin against you. His heavy cock in between the crevice of your ass as his body heat radiates off him like the scorching sun. Engulfed in his presence, your breath hitches as you tug on the tight restraints of the belt wrapped around your wrists. The raspy chuckle that escapes the man above you sends shivers down your spine as he leans into you. His chest presses against you as one hand grabs at the belt-bounded hands and the other helps align his cock with your entrance. “Y’think yer ready for the wild ride, doll? Cuz I don’t think I’ll stop once I start. This pussy just looks too good to give up.”

“Yes,” you huff out, nodding. “Please, I need you in me.”

He grins. “Whatever y’say.”

The walls of your apartment are paper thin, so you don’t doubt that your neighbors can hear your extracurricular activities. You’re not being considerate of their comfort at all as you shamelessly weil into the night. Skin slapping against skin, the wet sloshing sound of your juices sounding through your bedroom as Bakugo fucks you viciously. You’re crying out like a disgusting little whore, first whining about how he was too big of a stretch and now look at you. You’re not bitching anymore.

“Look at ya,” Bakugo grunts, keeping up the rough and torturous pace. “Taking my cock like the nasty little slut ya’re.”

A thumb prodding at your asshole, puckered and tight, Bakugo lets out a nice string of saliva trickle down in between your ass as he massages the next entrance. The action has you clenching as your nails dig into the palm of your hands, tensing up at the feeling of him teasing your hole. He slaps your ass, nonverbally reprimanding you. “Don’t tell me you can’t handle a finger up your ass now,” he mocks you. “Aww, don’t tell me you can’t handle it. Don’tcha wanna feel good? I know you do.”

You mewl, eyes shut as your face is stuffed into the comfort of your silk-clad pillow, you don’t utter a word to Bakugo. Can’t bring yourself to. “Don’t worry, doll—” For once, Bakugo’s a bit more gentle. Still keeping the exhausting pace of drilling your poor pussy, he rubs your ass with a gentleness. “—It’ll only hurt for a moment.”

He doesn’t give you any warnings, only pressing his thumb deeper until he can’t anymore. Just as he said, where one moment you were squealing in pain, the next your body relaxed as your nerves didn’t know what exactly to focus on. The beatings of your cunt or the thick digit invading your ass. Right as you got adjusted to the additional penetration, you let out a dragged moan that only had Bakugo smirking. “Told ya,” he says with a smack of your ass.

It’s all overwhelming, how you feel so full yet can’t reach behind you to touch Bakugo, to pull him impossibly closer to you. You whine and moan out, high-pitched sounds that’re like music to Bakugo’s ears as you jut your ass back into him. Your cock swallows him whole, your sweet cunt pulsating and clenching around his length in a desperation for him to breed you. And fuck is he tempted to. He can imagine the ropes of cum he could pour into you, mixing with that intoxicating nectar of yours.

His grunts and moans are guttural as he withholds his orgasm, waiting for that perfect moment. With his thumb still inside your hole, he presses the palm of his hand into your ass, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin and threatening to create dark bruises. “C’mon, doll. I ain’t got all night.”

You’re so close, you can feel it. In the pit of your stomach, that familiar churn rises up inside of you and bubbling up to be something deadly. “Fuck,” you cry. “‘M so close!” It’s inhumanly possible, but Bakugo speeds up even more, battering down on your pussy until you’re screeching out a garbled mess. White blurs your vision and if Bakugo was trying to say anything, you didn’t hear it. Your body spasms as you feel your inner thighs and the sheets beneath you get soaked. You don’t register the sudden hollowness you feel as Bakugo pulls out, the sight of you squirting getting him on so much that his orgasm follows yours shortly after. Ejaculating, he spurts his cum all over your back as your legs fall pliant as the last of your juices seep into your sheets and you can only lay in your mess.

Cock softening as droplets of his orgasm drip down your ass, Bakugo pants as he looks at the time. Half past three in the morning, he should really leave. He knows this, but he’s exhausted and if he makes more than five movements, he’s going to knock out for sure. “Fuck,” he curses as he climbs off you and falls to your left side. You’re panting heavily, chest rising and falling as Bakugo looks over at you. Your eyes feel heavy and you’re trying to force yourself to stay awake, but to no avail. With all the strength you have left, you spin to the side and your back towards the blonde in your bed. Bakugo snorts as he shuffles to turn away from you as well. G’night, he grunts out in his mind.

—

“I’m not a murderer, by the way.” Bakugo finds his way on the edge of the bed, his back towards you. The sun peeks out through your curtains, giving him the light he needs to get dressed. “Don’t think I’ve ever clarified that. I didn’t kill that poor piece of shit.”

He catches you off guard, making you turn around to view his back. Processing his words, you’re not sure if you believe him or not, but you decide to go along with it. You’ve already laid in bed with the man and you’ve given up on convincing yourself of the morals that you believed you once had. Was this a way to make you feel any better? “Then, what are you?” You didn’t mean for the little laugh to leave you at the end of your question, making it seem like you were doubting him. Though truthfully, you were.

“I just clean up the bodies after the murder,” he explains as he gets dressed, ignoring your little chuckle. He can’t blame you. “Someone else kills them and I hide the evidence that it even happened.”

“Oh,” you breathe, intrigued. There’s a job for that? Before you can answer any questions, he stands. Now fully clothed, all except for his shoes.

“Yeah,” he answers, gruffly. “I’ve sent out a recommendation for ya. You seem fit for the job, so I made a call to one of the higher ups to get in contact with ya.”

“You… you did?” Furrowing your eyebrows, it catches you off guard. “How’d… when did you even have the time to do that? You were pretty much glued to me the moment I walked in on you.”

Bakugo smirks. “I’ve got my ways—” Glancing at the clock, he silently curses to himself. “—Anyways, I’ve got to go. See ya around or whatever.”

Your eyes widen at the announcement of his departure, making you sit up in the bed and reach out to him. “Wait!”

“What?” he snaps back, glaring right at you now. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Is that it?” you ask, not sure what exactly that you’re asking. “Is there nothing else?”

“Nothing else to what?” he turns back around. “I’m pretty damn sure you won’t call the cops. That’d be stupid of ya.”

That smirk on his face. Moments ago, you found it to be such a sexually appealing thing, but now you just wanna smack it off his face. “Or what? You want me to say I had a good time with ya? Is that it, doll?”

Your face heats up as you grow flustered. “No.”

“If it makes you sleep better at night,” he crosses his arms, making them bulge even more. “I did.”

With that, he gives you another once over before reaching for the door. Without a goodbye, he swings it open and then shut as he quickly makes his departure.

—

SEVENTY-TWO HOURS LATER

Bang, bang, bang. Three hefty knocks at your door that makes you jump out of your seat from around your very small and quaint living area. You haven’t heard from Bakugo since he’s left, and you don’t know how you expect him to when you don’t even have any way to contact him. However, you were still hopeful— still had him on your mind since the moment he walked out of your small apartment. From the three knocks, you’re hoping that it’s him, coming to devour you like he did three days ago.

“Who is it?” you call out from the other side, but there’s no response. When you look through the small peep hole there’s no one there. Kissing your teeth, you’re about to head back to the couch when something in the back of your mind tells you to turn back around. When you do, you hear the small slip of paper slide from underneath the front door and there’s a singular letter sitting there right at your feet.

Picking it up, the envelope just has your name on it— first and last— nothing else. Not your address and not one from who or where it came from. It reminded you of some of the last things Bakugo told you. “I’ve sent out a recommendation for ya. You seem fit for the job, so I made a call to one of the higher ups to get in contact with ya.”

Ripping open the envelope, you let the tattered thing fall to the ground as you read letter:

Dear (Y/N),

It’s a shame to know that one of our trusted agents was caught during a mission. Truthfully, you should’ve been handled with more care and caution, but if it were to go that way, you wouldn’t be receiving such an invite like this. Agent #B354 has recommended you to join our very secretive profession to be part of our agency.

We will give you another twenty-four hours to make a decision and get your bearings together. Whether or not you accept this invitation, you will be sworn to secrecy about this organization or you will be dealt with accordingly— as you should’ve originally been. If you decide to join, welcome to the team Agent #Y976. If you decide that this profession isn’t for you, you’ll receive a non-disclosure agreement to sign and we wish you the best of luck in life.

NMC Organization

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha smut #bnha #x reader #x black reader #tw: dark content #tw: (n)sfw #𑁤 bakugo katsuki.

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oldestenemy · 2 days ago

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Scion, At Rest - in which trust is unshakeable

welcome to me deciding to ignore time order for a moment and post a piece from the epilogue/companion series to Forever Onward, Scion Read on ao3 here <3

Eurydice Nightshade is in the midst of teaching a class about the important difference between historic names, titles, and true names. It’s one of their favorites. Something they remember fixating on for months when it had first been introduced to them—long ago as that now was.

“Professor?”

“Yes—Ironglade isn’t it?” One of Dorothy’s students, only recently starting to pick up Conjuration as a secondary.

“Do people have true names?”

“Everything has a true name—living or dead, though the dead are often unresponsive to non-necromantic influence outside specific circumstances—I can cover the intersections between the two another time—the living on the other hand, do have true names.”

“And they work the same?”

“Using a persons true name would give you complete control over them—similar to that of your summons to the monsters used in battle—assuming you have the power of will to exert that control.” A handful of the students go wide eyed before they finish, making the same jump that always gets made, that the everyday names they use could somehow be used against them. “Fortunately, given names and true names are not the same. A living person’s true name is more than just a word, it’s more than a summons, you must learn even your own through study and meditation. If I were to ask any of you what your true name is, you wouldn’t be able to answer me. It is also exceptionally difficult to acquire a true name belonging to another person without their permission and cooperation.”

“Do you know any?”

A pause while they consider Ironglade’s question, glancing around the class and realizing the little triad of chaos happens to be entirely present. If they feel up to dealing with the inevitable consequences—technically there was an opportunity for demonstration here.

Eurydice nods slowly before they speak, “Opalkeeper, go collect Professor Grimwater for me?”

“Dog what?”

“Darana.” They resist the urge to roll their eyes. This will be worth it.

“I’m going—I’m going!”

~*~

The door to Duncan’s classroom is swung open at full speed, revealing Darana Opalkeeper leant halfway in across the frame. “Daaaaaad—Professor Nightshade wants you for something in their class. The lesson is on True Names, so, what they call you in the privacy of your own home is not the subject of today”

“I’m not your father, Darana.” The response is an ingrained habit at this point, so often does some form of that joke leave the Conjuror’s mouth. He doesn’t grace the latter half of their statement with a response. Which is usually the correct choice. “Mistsong, keep an eye on your classmates until I’m back, no summoning anything until I am back in this room—I’ll know if you’ve lied to me.”

“Do you hear this shit?” Darana crows over their shoulder as Duncan moves past them into the courtyard, “Disowned! Orphaned even!”

“Nobody fucking believes that Daz!” Allison Ashwraith yells back, only to have Darana flip her off before they slam the classroom door, needing to jog to catch back up.

Duncan just shakes his head, taking a breath and training the slight smile back off of his face before Darana is close enough to see it. Titans sake, was this really a good idea? Out of every class this could have been for—was it necessary to choose one Opalkeeper was present for?

…though given their timeline, he wasn’t sure there was a class of Eurydice’s they weren’t in.

~*~

“I take it you have a good reason for interrupting my lecture, Professor Nightshade?” Duncan asks, voice carrying the level of exasperation they’d expected given the request.

Eurydice smiles and doesn’t answer, simply waits for Darana to get back to their seat, “Class, watch carefully.”

And the sound that leaves their mouth is not entirely a word, not fully, not in any language their students can absorb, and they reach out to Duncan’s mind. The pieces that make him up sitting at the forefront of their own, lining up and twisting with their own like puzzle pieces slotting together.

There is a moment of resistance, a soft telepathic really, Eurydice?

Their smile shifts into more of a smirk. You brought this on yourself.

There is a split second where they see a flash of annoyance in Duncan’s expression as they refuse to back down—it’s expected, there was no satisfaction if he didn’t push back at least a little—before his eyes unfocus, pupils blown so wide the grey had nearly disappeared behind them, then they return to normal and he’s given in. They feel his body like an extension of their own. The sharp edges of resistance where part of him is still trying to fight back, not exactly on purpose, more out of instinct. Self preservation.

The room is deathly silent.

None of their students daring even to breathe. Someday they may well regret this particular display falling during a class when they have all three of their most chaotic pupils there to witness it. But not right now.

When they speak again, Duncan follows suit in perfect time. Their words overlapping, not repetition, but complete unison. “True names are as much about respect as they are willpower and control. Especially with living things. The mind of a human person does not like being bent into shape by outside forces.” The odd sensation of sound vibrating through two heads, their own and his. One of the closest things they’d ever experienced to matching that internal echo Raven’s words used to carry. “You have to understand what, and in the case of a person—who—you are commanding. In the case of monsters and myths, you can study them to find answers, you can summon and entreat them outside the confines of battle, build your understanding, as you saw with our lesson on the Minotaur.”

A pause, they tilt their head slightly, one hand outstretched just to help with the focus. Words are easy, actions though—actions required a little more thought. There is more pushback, resistance like heavy duty elastic. “However,” just their own voice now, “once that control has been claimed—”

Admittedly, the spin looks more graceful than it does in their minds eye. Duncan is, after all, not a polar bear in a tutu. But the motion is still the same. Something they can pull from that is both easy to convey—and unlikely to happen under any normal circumstance.

“—it is exceptionally difficult to break from.”

“Holy shit.” Eurydice chances looking away just so that they don’t miss the wide eyed expression on Darana’s face. It’s worth it. On either side of their friend, Zinnia Thunderwhistle and Brecken Bittersweet seem equally enraptured by the display.

“There are, obviously, exceptions.” Eurydice continues, setting their focus back to Duncan, having him come forward until he’s level with them in front of their desk. “For example—impossibilities, I cannot ask him to sprout wings and fly expecting compliance. It’s not that I lack the drive to put behind the order—he simply lacks the ability to follow it.” A pause as they pull their sword from where it is typically sheathed on their hip. An older piece. Fitting here. Belonging to one of the paladins roaming the Labyrinth. “Another being something that would override the mind’s usual faculties—life or death, fight, flight, and freeze reactions do not play well with any form of compulsion—which is often what using the true name of a living person is closest to.”

A breath.

They are perfectly aware he’s capable of breaking this.

But this in particular is just on the edge of nerve wracking.

One strike, aimed well for the side of Duncan’s throat.

A feeling like glass shattering inside their skull.

The hand that catches the blade wreathed in Shadow, a sliver of the Sentinel called up to block it from his skin. A sharp twist and it’s wrenched fully from their grip. Grey eyes narrowed in irritation and focus.

“Welcome back, Professor Grimwater.” Eurydice has to bite back on the grin trying to break through their controlled expression. Settling into what is maybe an approximation of respectable mirth. “That was all, you’re welcome to return to your own classroom—provided you leave my sword behind.”

Read my other wiz fic here <3

#wizard101 #wizard101 fic #wizard101 fanfiction #stevie is still stuck in the spiral #w101 #wizard101 fanfic #duncan grimwater #scion at rest

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