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crushmeeren · 27 days ago

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࿐ part one of masked stalker week! touya is first, megumi’s can be found here! ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list link

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ hints of hunter/prey, stalking, mask kink, breath play, knife play, a mixture of degradation and praise, yandere vibes.

⋆ ⬪ This isn’t quite as long as the others, as I wanted to keep it sweet and to the point without too much world building this time.

⇢ ⇢ touya art by birf ! ⇢ ⇢ @sikuthealien

⇢ ⇢ @with-my-calamitous-love (tagging cuz I thought you might enjoy this)

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Touya’s a regular at the coffee shop you work in. It’s in a seedier part of town, and nobody bats an eye at the villain who stops in every night before close. He never speaks to you after he orders, just shoots you a wink as he leaves. But he’s the least of your worries. There’s someone wearing a ghost face mask who’s been stalking you after every shift. It’s been going a lot longer than you care to admit. Maybe it’s because, in a twisted way, you like it?

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

“Busy, doll?”

Your hand jerks violently, the tip of your pen ripping a giant hole in the napkin you were currently doodling ghost face on. You purse your lips, and after swallowing your heart back down into your chest, you lift your head to send a weak glare at the familiar smoky voice piping up from across the counter.

Touya glances at your drawing and the corners of his lips twitch with the ghost of a smug smile.

“I was. Thanks a lot for ruining my picture,” you complain, balling up the tattered napkin and dropping it in the small trash can beside you. You mourn the loss of your masterpiece and rise to your feet with a sigh. “Getting the usual?”

“As always, doll. What, that pretty little empty head of yours forget my order already?” Touya teases, crossing his arms over his chest and looming over the edge of the counter. The scent of burnt firewood smacks you in the face and tickles your nose. You pull backwards instinctively, even if the smell does entice you.

“No,” you protest, nose scrunching as you resist the urge to sneeze, glancing up into bright blue eyes. Touya arches an eyebrow and you spin in the opposite direction before he can notice the soft heat of embarrassment burrowing into the apples of your cheeks.

It’s not your fault the backhanded compliment fills your belly with butterflies. He’s stupid hot, scars and all, sue you for having eyes.

Touya hums as if your petulant no amuses him greatly.

It’s like clockwork. Nearly every evening one of Japan’s most wanted villains shows up half an hour before close and orders a plain black coffee. He never speaks again after you start making it, no matter how hard you try to coax him into conversation. He just responds in noncommittal hums, studying you so intensely that you fidget in place.

Then he pays, shoots you a wink, and leaves through the front door with his hoodie pulled up tight to cover his snowy white hair.

It’s not as if anyone bats an eye that he frequents the place, you have a suspicion that the owner does business with the LOV anyhow. The security cameras are just for show, and you sure as hell won’t rat on him. Screw society, or whatever the LOV stands for.

You secure a lid on the nearly overflowing cheap styrofoam cup. Neatly, you write his name on the side before handing it over, fingers brushing over cool metal as you do, and he grins so widely the staples on his cheeks stretch obscenely. You bite the inside of your bottom lip, fingertips tingling with a pleasant burn even after he’s gone.

Your lungs expand with a steadying breath to reset your nervous system, closing your eyes briefly to focus. When you crack them open and glance at the digital clock on the wall, there’s only twenty minutes left until you can escape the dingy cafe.

That only serves to fill you with dread of an entirely different beast. One that has guilt weighing you down because, if you’re honest, you’re…. excited for what awaits you at the end of your shift.

You see, Touya is the least of your current worries. Yeah, you have a huge crush on him, but he’s never made a move and you’re sure he’s got more pressing matters to deal with.

Shigaraki seems like he’s more than a handful to work for after all.

No, for the past two or three months, as soon as you lock the door and start your treacherous stroll home through the seedy part of town, a man in a ghost face mask follows you the entire way. He never does anything, just simply tails you without a care in the world.

You still have no clue who it is, and at first you were terrified, the jarring sensation of eyes constantly on you making the hair on your arms stick straight up. You were being stalked and hunted like a small rabbit in the woods, and a cold sweat often trickled down your neck. You’d grip the straps of your backpack with trembling fingers and white knuckles.

Then, love letters began appearing in your mailbox at the end of every week. Pages upon pages of your stalker waxing poetic about you, decorated with scratched out sentences and rants demanding that you belong to him, and that he’d tear any man who flirted with you into pieces. They’re always signed with “my heart beats for you”, no name listed, and some hastily drawn hearts.

You’ve started to wonder if you’re sick in the head, because as more letters appeared, the fear faded into infatuation. You started to become just as obsessed with him as he is with you. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he could tell when your feelings changed, if the increase in letters was anything to go by.

That being said, his secret identity consumes almost every waking thought you have. You’ve been on edge for weeks, and it’s driven you to come up with a plan to push things forward.

You’ve decided to write him his own letter, and soon you’re going to leave it in your mailbox for him to find. You yearn to know who he is, to see what he looks like.

And you really want him to fuck you in the mask.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

The bell above the door jingles as you slam the front door shut. You curse lowly, fiddling with the key that never seems to actually lock the door. You race the biting cold to secure it before your fingers go numb. After the fifth time you hear the signature click as it slides the deadbolt into place and you sigh in relief.

You swing your backpack to the front, digging in the front pocket and pulling out your prepared letter in a white envelope labeled “to my stalker”. With determination, you start walking in the direction of your home, shifting your gaze to peer down the first alleyway past the coffee shop. Your heart rate thunders when you spot a familiar ghost mask barely peaking out above the dumpster.

You make haste, calves burning the faster you push your stride. You breath resembles a dragon’s and the crunch of heavy boots on the concrete sidewalk behind you has your fingertips tingling. Your stalker trails after you at a steady pace, an eerie tune being whistled as he follows. His footsteps never quicken, as if he’s confident he’ll catch up no matter what.

Before you realize it, you’re reaching the end of your driveway, coming to a halt in front of your mailbox. You turn ever so slowly, witnessing the masked man pause in the middle of the street. He tilts his head in curiosity as you raise up the letter so he knows what you’re holding.

Tentatively, you gesture towards the letter, and then you shove a shaky finger his way. He points at himself and you nod once. Then, you make sure he’s watching as you place it in the mailbox and shut the door as fast as you can.

You whirl without second guessing yourself, the scenario reminding you of running up the stairs so a monster doesn’t capture you as you practically sprint into your home and lock the door.

You don’t dare look out the window to check if he’s taken it. You slump against your door, adrenaline still rushing in your veins as you slide to the tiled floor with a squeak. The warm air thaws your limbs as you spiral.

When you inspect the mailbox on your way to work the next day, the letter has vanished.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

It’s late Friday evening, thirty minutes before close, and anticipation is currently wreaking havoc on your mind. You jump each time the door opens. It’s enough to distract you from the fact that Touya hasn’t made his usual appearance tonight.

Granted, it’s not that unusual, he’s not there every single day, so the realization only flits across your thoughts before disappearing.

The divorced dad rock playing softly in the background pauses, a result of the shitty internet connection, and you roll your eyes as you continue to rhythmically wipe off the counter top in relative silence.

The sharp chime of the door startles you, gaze shooting towards whoever has entered, but the spark of hope in your chest deflates when you recognize a different regular sauntering through.

You greet him with a fake smile, going along with the boring small talk as you prepare his drink. He’s kind enough, and he tips decently, so you treat him well. You send him on his way with a genuine smile and return to your closing tasks.

You’re flipping the last chair over, about to settle it on the table top when the door opens once more. Annoyance flares in your chest, and you twist your head to call over your shoulder that you’re closed when your voice gets stuck in your throat.

The wooden legs slip from your fingers like sand, and the chair clatters loudly to the table as you spin towards the door in shock.

There in the doorway, looking terrifying, is your fucking stalker. He’s dressed in all black, ghost face mask secured and black hoodie pulled up, but it’s definitely him.

You weren’t sure he’d show up, mouth opening and closing in shock as you stare aimlessly at him.

“You…you got my letter,” you manage to choke out, heart hammering against your rib cage. He nods once in acknowledgment, casually reaching behind himself to flip the lock on the door. The cold sensation of fear pours into your belly, and you swallow the cotton balls that have taken refuge in your throat as he takes a step closer.

Your feet are cemented to the floor, limbs paralyzed while he stalks towards you, pulling his hood off as he goes. You can’t see his hair and you notice that he’s wearing black leather gloves as well, so that doesn’t give you any sort of clue as to who he is.

You shiver slightly, time seeming to slow when he comes to a stop directly in front of you. Your head tilts in order to properly look up at him.

“You wanted me, right doll?” The deep voice drawls, unearthing something metallic from his waistband that you immediately notice is a knife. Your terror skyrockets, the high of the thrill mixing with it in a strange and intoxicating way. You retreat as far as you can, but it’s only a few inches as your lower back bumps harshly into the edge of the table behind you, jostling the chairs.

“No! I mean, yes, I did, but I just wanted to talk! I’m…interested in you,” You attempt to explain, hands flailing animatedly and voice shaky as you ramble.

The masked man chuckles in amusement, raising the knife and gradually beginning to dig the tip into the underside of your jaw, tilting your head even further back. It pinches, not quite breaking the skin, but the threat looms.

God, you hope this wasn’t a mistake, and that you aren’t so pathetic that you’ve actually let a stalker in here to kill you.

“To talk about what, sweetheart? Your letter said you were interested, but I saw you with your little boyfriend in here earlier, whore,” he spits the last word, knife pushing in a bit further. “Were you lying to me?”

You cry out desperately, the tendons in your neck straining painfully as your eyes grow wide and your brows shoot up to your hairline in confusion.

“No! What? I - I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear!” You plead, voice watery and thick. Your hands fly up to fist the front of his hoodie, rising onto your tip toes so you don’t impale yourself. Your heart rate is erratic, enough so that you’re becoming dizzy.

Panic wells up in your throat, eyes stinging with tears as he stays silent for what seems an eternity. Then, he clicks his tongue behind his teeth, dragging the tip of the knife down the hollow of your throat, and purposely nicks your collarbone before he finally pulls away.

You gasp loudly, breath coming out as a bitten off sob as your hands shoot to your neck to check for any glaring injuries. A few tears flow down your cheeks in relief as you pant harshly, fingertips only slightly red when you pull them back.

“What the fuck!” You screech, glaring intensely at him and flushing hotly to the tips of your ears. “I just wanted to talk to you!”

He shrugs, spinning the knife. “We’re talking, aren’t we doll?”

Your expression pinches as you try to hold in the next sob, sniffling pitifully. All of a sudden his personality switches, emotional whiplash evident as he crowds you in against the table. Your fear spikes once again, hands coming up to his chest in a weak attempt to save yourself.

He slips the knife back into his waistband and harshly cradles your jaw, wiping away the few stray tears with his glove covered thumbs.

“Aw c’mon doll, you’re such a pretty thing, please don’t cry. I just got so furious seeing that other guy in here flirting with what’s mine. You understand, right?” He soothes, mania seeping into his tone. He presses his warm lean body flush with yours and you squeeze your eyes shut. You end up nodding, head fuzzy with the whirlwind of fear and arousal fraying your nerves. “Fucking look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he demands coldly.

You refocus your gaze upon the pitch black eyes of the ghost face mask, lids drooping slightly.

“I told you I wanted you,” you protest. “Not some random regular.”

He’s surely driving you insane, and you’re certain it says nothing good about you that you still want him so badly.

“I know doll,” he coos, hands smoothing down your chest. He grabs your tits and then moves lower to squeeze your hips bruisingly. “And you’re gonna fucking show me.”

The man reaches behind you and shoves the chairs over the sides of the tables, the insanely loud crack of the wood slamming into the floor causes you to smack right into his chest. He hushes you, coaxing you to back up, and then he hefts you up onto the edge of the table by your waist.

“Raise your arms,” he instructs.

You listen, inner elbows touching your ears as he grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it off. He drops it carelessly to the floor and then gets your bra off just as easily. He lures a soft moan from you when warm leather hands play with your tits, pinching your nipples until they harden. He whispers something you don’t quite catch and then he’s reaching for your waistband.

“Wait!” Your fingers curl around his wrists to halt his movements before he can unbutton your pants. “I don’t even know your name! At least tell me that before you fuck me.”

You’re certain he’s smirking behind that mask.

“Oh? And what will you do if I don’t tell you, hmm? You’re a filthy whore for me, aren’t you doll?”

You blink in shock, the harsh words lighting fire to your blood. You nod jerkily, your hold on his wrists going slack.

“So, are you going to say no?” He taunts, fingers toying with the button on your jeans. When you shake your head he coos at you. “Such a good girl, you listen so well.”

He hooks his fingers into your pants and panties, yanking with enough force that he pulls them out from under you. You gasp, catching your weight with your hands as he slips off one of your sneakers, leaving the remaining material to dangle uselessly around one ankle.

Your pussy seeks for anything to cling to, but tightens desperately around nothing as he pushes your thighs apart to see you better. You look up at him sheepishly when he places his thumbs on the sides of your soft lips and spreads you, moaning appreciatively at what he finds.

One thumb shifts to your clit and he rubs a few slow circles into it, the texture of the leather sending waves of warmth out to your limbs. Your nails scrape the wooden surface as he grips your knees and lifts them until you’re forced to place your heels on the edge of the table to balance.

Your leftover sneaker squeaks when you shift your foot, the vulnerability of being on display for this man making your stomach knot up.

“I want to see you. Please, show me,” you beg, gaze flickering down to see the way his stiff cock strains against his zipper, eager to be freed.

“Yeah? Does my pretty little toy wanna see my face?” He runs a teasing finger along the edge of his mask. “I think,” he muses, pausing a measly few inches from your face. “You just want to see my cock.”

He straightens as soon as the words leave his lips, unzipping his hoodie and shrugging it off his shoulders. He wears a long black sleeve shirt, and he reaches below it to undo his own dark jeans. Soon enough his hard cock is bouncing free and curving up slightly towards his belly.

Your lips part, a storm of pure need rushing through you. A patch of curly white hair at the base of his cock draws your attention, and the small piece of knowledge excites you.

“You have white hair?” You ask in awe, shifting your gaze from the hand loosely stroking his cock to his face, staring so hard you might actually be able to see through the mask. He tilts his head curiously and steps up to the edge of the table.

“So there is a brain rattling around in there,” he teases, tilting his hips up to slide the tip of his leaking cock over your clit. He shifts down to nudge against where you’re entirely exposed. “Sure do, sweetheart. Recognize me yet?”

Your brows scrunch, distracted by the white hot jolt of pleasure, and then your stalker is gripping your throat and cutting off your air as he pushes his cock inside you all the way to the hilt. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, the stretch burning and so unbelievably perfect that your entire body tingles.

He pulls his hips back until the tip is all your pussy clings to before bullying his cock back inside, the sharp smack of his skin meeting yours pushing a wheeze out of you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it doll?” His voice is scratchy, a breathy moan escaping as you squeeze him. Your head grows heavy as you nod to the best of your ability, spine begging to arch into his thrusts.

He sets a ruthless pace after that, not allowing you a second longer to adjust. His free hand clutches your bent knee and uses it as leverage to throw his weight into his hips.

After what seems like an hour, you start to tap urgently at his wrist, vision swimming as he continues to fuck the very life out of you. He eases his grip and you suck in a lungful of air that has blood rushing in your ears.

Just as the lightheaded sensation starts to fade he applies firm pressure to your throat until your shoulders slam into the table top. He stills his hips as he follows you down, and your legs instinctively lock around his lithe waist. He places his elbows on either side of your head, panting harshly through the cloth mouth of the mask.

When you land the air gets knocked out of your lungs, you gasp out of reflex and the scent of burnt firewoods floods your nose. Something clicks into place in your mind, and with startling clarity, it dawns on you that your masked stalker is Touya.

Touya moves his hips leisurely, curling them so his blunt tip presses firmly against your g-spot. Your hands fly up to fumble with his mask, and Touya doesn’t move to stop you when you push it up and off his head, the plastic clattering to the floor somewhere beside the table.

Familiar searing blue eyes and scarred skin greet you, spiky white hair sealing the deal.

“Touya,” you breathe, and he grins slyly, each of his slow, deliberate thrusts jostling you up the table. His lids are heavy as he peers down at you, and your arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Surprised?” He purrs, and you shake your head.

“No, fuck! I’m happy that it’s you,” you manage to get out between choked off moans. The look in his eyes turns wild, a borderline hysterical laugh leaving his lips.

“I own you, isn’t that right doll?” He balances his weight on one elbow and reaches to grab the knife from his waistband. He stabs the wood inches from your head and you yelp, heart skipping a beat as you shy away from the blade. He lets go but allows the knife to remain in place, resuming his previous position.

“Yes!” You reassure him, pussy fluttering involuntarily and Touya grins in self satisfaction, caging in closer until his lips brush over yours when he murmurs.

“Let’s make that pretty little pussy cum on my cock then, yeah? Show me you understand.”

With that, Touya resumes his relentless pace. He keeps you on the edge of a kiss, whispering soft praise until you’re surging up to kiss him as stars burst behind your eyelids.

He groans into the kiss, hips faltering as your pussy suffocates him. Touya drags out your climax for as long as he can hold out before he breaks the kiss and shoves his face into your throat, thrusting shallowly as he cock jerks. He sinks his teeth into your pulse point, sucking and marking you with what’s sure to be a dark purple hickey.

You hug him close, thighs twitching with aftershocks and Touya slips his arms underneath your waist. He gives you no reprieve as he readjusts his grip and hauls you up off the table, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath and wail as he twists and drops into a booth nearby. The intense pressure on your soft cervix makes your stomach ache.

Touya frees you of your sneaker and the remainder of the pants still dangling around your ankle. He roughly smacks your ass and gazes up at you with a catlike grin.

“Ride me like you fucking mean it, doll. I gotta see those tits bounce.”

You come together over and over that night until you’re both exhausted. Before Touya takes his leave, he draws his number on the side of a styrofoam cup and places it on the counter. He’s deadly serious when he tells you that you “better not fucking ignore him,” or he’ll show up here every. single. night.

And truthfully, you want to play with fire and see what happens if you do.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi smut #todoroki smut #touya todoroki smut #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki touya smut #mha dabi #mha todoroki #mha smut #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader

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im-only-here-for-the-fandom · 8 months ago

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Dcxdp prompt: where is my baby?

Dan and Dani are hurt badley, their cores are cracked/broken, Danny takes them to frostbite and offers to give them a piece of his own core so they could heal because he is their mother/original they can fully adapt to his core, with him being extremely powerful and a perfect halfa he would be able to recover eventualy.

Due to plot reasons after the surgery Danny and kids are attacked, danny is currently very weak and has an unstable space core, as a last resort he sends them to another dimension they end up transported to mha/dc, (Danny is not lucid through this )

Danny wakes up disoriented with memory loss not knowing how he got there(whether he forgets about the attack or not is up to you)and where his kids are, he is hysterical, heros think he is a villain but its just that his core is on the fritz and his distress is causing his powers to become uncontrollable

He gets calmed down and taken in by aizawa/martain manhunter(or any hero you think fits), they have lie detector detective/wonder woman’s lasso of truth to interrogate him, danny’s talking is incomprehensible he says the date and place is wrong, he dosent know where he is or where his kids are, he gets confused about his age (like is he 14 or 19),barley remembers his name and facts about his family except his kids,

(and maybe for plot reasons he vaguely has knowledge about mha like what quirks are/heros/villains/basic history/and the like or not up to you)

But what he does know is that he has 2 kids a girl and a boy, dan either has black hair grey eyes or white hair red eyes and dani either has black hair blue eyes or white hair green eyes, that they are hurt, they are missing and that he desperately wants/needs to find them.

so i hope you like this and decide to write something because i can’t write a proper fic and would really like to read your idea’s

#dc x dp fic #dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc au #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #dp x mha #dp x bnha #bnha crossover #mha crossover #my hero academia x danny phantom #mom!danny #mom danny

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satoshy12 · 1 year ago

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Kryptonian Danny Ghost Phantom

Danny Fenton's life takes an unexpected turn when he's accidentally exposed to a Kryptonian artifact while in the Ghost Zone. The Kryptonite radiation triggers a transformation in Danny's human DNA, turning him into a half-Kryptonian/Ghost hybrid.

It was Frostbite who told him he wasn't human anymore but an Alien. Danny didn't seem to have much of a problem with it he was already a Halfa; and it was pretty cool to now be an Alien!

But he struggled to control his newfound powers and adjust to them like he did with the ghost powers. He discovers his newfound abilities, including flight, super strength, and heat vision.

But that means that while most of his villains didn't try to attack him, Fenton's body is too strong. Few others worked to be stronger than that, like Skulker. Well, mostly Skulker.

So while in a fight with Skulker with new weapons from Vlad, he crash-lands in Metropolis from the attack in the Ghost Zone.

The new weapon was a poison that would have a retrograde amnesia effect on Danny. Vlad wanted to slowly make Danny forget about everything before he took him in as his own son. Skulker could then have Jack's pelt, and as a ghost hunter, it would show he hunted down a hunter.

In Metropolis.

Dressed as Superman, Clark made his way to a place where he heard the crash, and saw a black-haired boy standing up from the crater. He tried to talk to the boy, but he seemed to only speak kryptonian! But not in an accent he knows, which means he just met a Kryptonian boy not related to him or a clone. He would say he is 2 or 3 years younger than Kara.

Danny was confused that his "human" body wouldn't speak English. It seemed like he was more hurt than he thought.

So as Clark tried to talk to him, Danny used his heat vision to hit Skulker behind him. Clark was shocked at first, thinking the boy attacked him, until he noticed he attacked the Being behind them.

And as Skulker ranted then about how he plans to "Hang his pelt on at the foot of his bed, As he is an endangered species!" well, those are the wrong words to say. As Superman got pretty angry, he attacked Skulker, who was pretty shocked that he was able to punch him. It must have been the portal's fault.

Clark was angry at the idea of someone hunting down the Kryptoanian to skin them! He was almost as angry as when he met Darkseid.

As Danny saw how the older hero could fight Skulker and was destroying his suit, he escaped until he could transform back to Phantom or find a way home.

Without the suit, Skulker is pretty weak.

Superman captured the tiny thing and turned his way back to find the boy. But he seems to be gone. Well, he would need Kara's or Karen's help; he didn't fully understand the accent.

Danny with white hair was walking down the streets. He would find a place to take a break. And help himself with his memories.

Whatever Skulker injects into him, he starts to forget what he was doing…. Wait, what again was his plan?

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flowerofbenevolence · 20 days ago

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Queen Maleficia Draconia Headcanons

TW: I have not read CH 7 yet, so this may be inaccurate and will be edited in the future!

"So you are the human that my grandson keeps telling me about."

Appearance:

She is envisioned to be extremely and timelessly beautiful, but also old-looking, like an older version of Maleanor. Like her daughter and grandson, she has dark midnight bluish-black hair, except it is slightly greying, or having grey streaks and is usually tied up into a bun. She also has yellowish-green eyes comparable to that of peridots, with long eyelashes and a few wrinkles beneath her eyes. she also has alabaster moonlight white skin, and of course, the famous, elegant, S-shaped horns that dragons and dragon-fairies are known for. Her attire would typically consist of the silver crown of the reigning monarch of Briar Valley, and long, black robes with green and silver accents as well as jewel and feather details.

Personality:

At first glance, Queen Maleficia seems to be cold-hearted, stern, and regal to the point of approachableness. But underneath that is actually a strong-hearted and passionate queen who loves her kingdom and people dearly, loved her daughter greatly, and is affectionate yet protective and strict towards her grandson. For that reason, many of her subjects praise her for her vast wisdom, knowledge, nobility, and being an amazing ruler. Humans, however, both fear and loathe her for her dark, cold aura and tend to take her inspiration for the villains of fairytales.

Background:

Long before the Human-Fae War started, Queen Maleficia actually had a human lover whom she loved very deeply, and promised to make him her king consort, regardless of how weak he was as a human and how short his lifespan was. However, much to her heartbreak, her human lover left her for a human princess, believing her to be much more beautiful, according to human beauty standards, and being much more "kind, graceful, and benevolent", which really meant her preferred softer, timider, and more insecure girls who suited his ego. Maleficia, following her draconic instincts (which many of us had assumed meant being jealous, possessive, and "hoarding their treasure"), was enraged, but kept her composure, knowing she had an image to maintain, being royalty and all, and tried to reason with him instead. She tried to tell him that beauty, especially human beauty doesn't last forever, and that she was the only one who would love him despite that and how his new human girlfriend's beauty would eventually fade. She also tried to tell him about how he would need someone wise like her to point out his flaws and faults and advise him so that he would be able to learn and grow as a person. When he got angry and continued to insist on leaving her, Maleficia finally snapped and decided her little human boyfriend needed a "punishment". She kidnapped his royal human bride and demanded ransom while torturing her. In the eyes of the fae, this was seen as acceptable, since fairies seek long-term relationships, strongly value loyalty, and believe that it is right to seek revenge when cheated on. Humans, on the other hand, were outraged, since they are more easily prone to cheating, being unfaithful to their spouses, but also moving on, and believed that Maleficia should be doing exactly just that instead of being a "jealous monster". As a result, Maleficia became the inspiration for numerous villainesses and witches in fairytales about "a princess who falls in love with a prince, but is hunted by a witch who is jealous of her relationship with the prince". Green also became a color associated with jealousy and envy since she often wore it, and sayings like "green-eyed monster" became invented. In the end, her human ex-boyfriend managed to rescue his human bride as well as severely injure her and return home where he was glorified as a hero. Centuries passed, and even when her human boyfriend died of old age and Maleficia found herself Malleus' grandfather, she still continues to resent her human ex-lover and the woman he left her for.

Ah, and of course, when the Human-Fae Wars started, Maleficia's hatred of humans increased tenfold, and when they killed her daughter, Maleanor Draconia, it was the final nail in the coffin.

Relationships:

Her daughter, Maleanor Draconia - Queen Maleficia loved her daughter very much and was very doting and protective. Afterall, she was basically a carbon copy of her and she would loathe herself forever if the same heartbreaking fate that happened to her happened to her daughter. That's why she was very wary of her son-in-law but eventually accepted him when he proved himself to her. She was beyond devastated when her daughter died and vowed vengeance against all the humans that caused her demise.

Her grandson, Malleus Draconia - Though she loves her grandson very dearly, she is very strict and protective of him. She acknowledges that he is the only heir left of Briar Valley, and how hard it was to hatch him. For that reason, she takes being his only living relative very seriously and disciplines him to become the perfect ruler that not only she, but the entire kingdom needs him to be. She also strives for his safety above all else and only hires the best guards and retainers to keep him safe. Lastly, she would also be very picky and judgmental if her grandson were to fall in love - not only would she hate to see her grandson get his heart broken, but it would be terrible news if the Crown Prince of Briar Valley was distracted from his royal duties.

Y/N - If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and she and Malleus were NOT dating and just friends, Queen Maleficia would be very cold and wary of her at best, harsh and hostile at worst. She wouldn't like how casual, informal, and intimate she would be with the Crown Prince. However, if Y/N was introduced to her AFTER the overblot while just being friends with Malleus, Maleficia would at first be shocked and refuse to believe it. Afterall, how could a magicless human possibly save one of the top five most powerful mages in the world??? However, over time, when she sees that her grandson isn't joking and hasn't gone insane, she would eventually warm up to you and be extremely kind to you. Afterall, you DID save her grandson's life. If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and while she and Malleus WERE dating, she would be ardently against the relationship. Not only would a dragon fairy crown prince with powerful magic dating a magicless human commoner cause numerous political and social problems, but she knows better than anyone else that humans can leave behind the most devastating of broken hearts even before they're dead. But if Y/N was introduced to her while she and Malleus were a couple AFTER the overblot, as mentioned earlier, she would be very reluctant to believe such a revelation but would eventually come to quite passionately, support the relationship. With that said, the most that you'll be is Malleus' future queen consort, and the least that you'll be is his mistress. If you were to choose the former, she would be overjoyed and along with all your royal fae teachers, teach you all that you need to know to be a member of the royal Draconia family as well as the future queen of Briar Valley.

A like is a punch to Queen Maleficia's human ex-boyfriend!

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moonchild701 · 2 months ago

Text

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Thighs, Thighs, Thighs

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Touya is already weak for your thighs.

And then you decide to wear thigh high stockings.

Pairing: Dabi/Chubby! Female Reader

Content Warning: Smut, Face Sitting, Intercrural Sex, Cum Marking, Dabi has Genital Piercings, Plus Sized Reader, Dabi's a simp

Word Count: 2.9k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: For my fellow chubby girlies, ily 🫶🏽

My Masterlist

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Touya has a certain fixation with your thighs.

After long days, he loves to just lay his head in your comfy lap, holding you. When you straddle him, he's free to rub and squeeze them as he pleases, and he will take any and every opportunity to have them wrapped around any part of him.

He loves the jiggle of them when he smacks your ass, and squishing the plushness beneath his palm. Biting and sucking his marks into the soft flesh is one of his favourite things to do.

You in shorts or short skirts are a weakness for him; you in fishnets, lace or thigh highs are fucking lethal.

So when he's on the couch, just minding his own business, lounging in his sweats and tank top, and you come out in a pleated, black miniskirt that barely covers your ass, black, sheer thigh high stockings with lace edges, a matching lace garter belt holding them up by thin straps, and one of his white tshirts, clinging to your body but especially your tits, nipples printing through showing that you had no bra on, who could really blame him for snatching you by your waist and pulling you into his lap?

You balance yourself on his shoulders, getting yourself comfortable, before your hands slide up the side of his neck and back to tangle your fingers in his pale hair as you lean in.

Heated hands slide up and over your legs, the contrasting softness of your skin and the lace of the stockings satisfying. He gropes and fondles at your thighs, your ass and tits through your clothes, before inevitably back to your thighs, all as he kisses you slow and hot.

Trailing mismatched lips down your jaw and up to your ear, he mumbles, voice husky, "Fuck, look at you. Get all dolled-up for me, baby?". Scarred hands grope at you, one hand inching up under the skirt, the other sliding up under the tshirt.

"Hmm, maybe.", you hum, basking in his attention, moaning softly as he leaves kisses, licks and nips along your throat and collarbone, sucking pretty bruises into the skin as he goes, while pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You love the way he gets when you dress like this.

His hand under your skirt pauses as all they meet is more skin. And he realizes that you aren't wearing any underwear at all. You feel his clothed cock twitch against your bare cunt, and you bite your lip to supress a smug smile.

"Shit." He breathes out a short, hot laugh against your neck before pulling back, "Fuck, okay. Sit on my face, baby. Please, I need to taste you."

You especially love that you could make this man, this big, bad villain, be basically at your beck and call, little more than a begging mess for you, with just the sight of your thighs and the promise of your pussy.

And seeing those wide, pretty blue eyes, looking at you with such reverance, how could you say no?

So you smile, sitting up on your knees for him to adjust. He shifts to lay on the couch properly, and his hand rests on your back, urging you to move upwards, until you're directly above him. You hold yourself steady with a hand beside you on the back of the couch, your legs framing his head, cunt hovering right over his mouth, as you hold the end of your skirt up to your stomach, biting your lip.

It's not exactly the first time you've sat on his face, and you love it of course, but it always makes you a bit nervous at first because, what if you break him? The first time he wanted you to, you asked him this and he just said, "What a way to go.", before pulling you in. So though the small nerves are there, it's drowned out by your arousal.

He grasps your thighs from behind as his eyes immediately snap to your pussy, glistening with your arousal. You see the way his pupils dilate, now just a ring of turquoise around a pool of black.

Your lips curl in a sly smile when his gaze locks on yours, eyes hungry, as he turns his head to mouth at your inner thigh after unhooking the straps and peeling down the tops of your stockings, blunt nails scraping along the skin.

You pant softly at his ministrations to the sensitive skin, smile still on your face as he laves and sucks marks into your flesh. A gasping moan is drawn out of you as he bites down on the meat of it, pussy weeping.

He pulls away, leaving the stinging mark to switch to the other thigh, his fingers digging possesively into your side, definitely leaving pretty bruises.

You're so wet you're leaking, your slick trailing down your thighs and Touya licks it right up, the flat of his hot tongue feeling branding as it slides over you, the metal of his piercing adding to that sentiment.

He groans, almost whimpering, at your taste as he shifts beneath you and you let out a breathy giggle.

At the urging tug at your hips, you finally lower yourself.

And Touya is in bliss as you sink your weight onto his face, thighs pressing to his cheeks. You feel the contrast of his healthy, soft skin and rough scars; his staples warm and digging into your skin is always surprisingly pleasant. He wraps his arms loosely over your legs, moving his hands down to rest on your thighs, moaning at your taste and the feeling of being completely surounded by you.

His flattened tongue licks a fat stripe up and through your folds, lips enveloping your throbbing clit, licking and sucking; you gasp as you release the couch to cup your breast through your shirt. Lapping at the sensitive nub, his scalding tongue swirls around it, his piercing enhancing every drag, before dipping into your wanting heat; and you moan lowly as you gently roll your hips, whining at the blunt scrape of his nails down your thighs.

Having his oxygen cut off, smothered in your sweet heat, has him completely hard and already leaking in his pants, but it's easy to ignore with your cunt and thighs suffocating him in the best of ways.

If he dies like this, he'd die a happy man.

Because he loves this. The feeling of you coming undone, thighs shaking and trembling and twitching around him, with his face buried in your hot cunt; clenching your slick walls around his tongue and rutting your clit against his nose.

He moans, slurping and panting against you ardently, the sounds filthy and wet, letting you know exactly how much he loves the taste of you and where he is.

Touya's hold on your thighs tighten as he pulls you down harder; hands heated to the point that they might just brand you.

"Come on, baby," he moans, voice slightly muffled. "Fuck my face, please."

You release your hold on your tits to tangle your fingers in his hair in a tight grip as you rock your hips, grinding over his hot tongue, the metal ball perfectly on your clit, your head thrown back as lewd moans spill from your parted lips. Your thighs squeeze around his face, practically suffocating him, and you see his eyes roll back, a deep groan vibrating through your cunt.

Your breathing and hips speed up as you pant, whining moans spilling out like spun sugar as your eyes roll shut in ecstasy when your orgasm crashes over you; your legs tremble and your breath stutters as you cum, gushing against him, slick running over his cheeks and chin, and down his throat. A gargled moan escapes him as his hips jerk up, rutting against nothing, his cock twitching as it leaks, making a mess in his sweatpants, as you ride his face through your high, dragging your sloppy pussy over his sinful tongue, using him.

Your movements stutter and broken moans fill the air, yet his mouth does not leave your heat; his hands do not move from their grip, holding you down to the sweet tortures of his tongue, licking firmly over your swollen, sensitive clit.

"Hnn, too much, Touya, baby—ahn—it's too much—"

He finally gives you reprieve and you move down to sit on his thighs, your legs still shaky, breathing still laboured, eyes hazy.

And when you finally focus enough to look at him, Touya is gorgeous.

Flushed and already looking fucked out, he peers up at you with pretty, azure eyes, glassy and hazy, and still so deliciously amorous.

You stare at him, at the glistening wetness all over his face and neck, and he holds your gaze, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, popping it into his mouth.

Your face goes all soft and needy, pretty eyes wide and wanting; lips parted before your tongue peeks out to wet them as you swallow thickly, and you see something flash in his eyes. Something hot and dangerous and mouth-watering.

He abruptly sits up, leaving you no choice but to fall back into the seat of the couch with a small squeak, and he spreads your legs, one hooked on the back of the sofa, as he grinds his hardened bulge against your tender pussy, making you gasp sharply.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You moan softly into his mouth as you taste yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him in; fingers in his hair, dragging your nails gently over his scalp, making him shiver and press down into the kiss more firmly as he rolls his hips against you, a scarred hand sliding up and under your shirt, fondling your breasts as his other hand grips your leg, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

Pulling away, he sits up, kneeling, keeping your legs spread for him, running his hands across your thighs reverantly; fingers dancing along the hickeys and bitemarks littering the smooth expanse, admiring, biting his lip, before pushing your shirt up your chest, over your breasts.

He pinches and rolls a pebbled nipple between his fingers, making you squirm and whine, as he brushes his other thumb up through your slick folds, rubbing over your clit.

Panting, you watch him, a shiver running through you at the look in his eyes. It's hot and sly and so fucking sexy.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he moves his hand from your chest and slips his cock out, the ladder of piercings along his shaft glistening with his arousal. He strokes himself idly as his eyes drink you in, before tapping the sticky head on your sensitive clit, the wet little sounds of it lewd and filthy.

Your head lolls to the side as you whimper softly at the small jolts of pleasure going through you at that, as your hands cup and fondle your own tits. Glancing up at you, he rubs the head of his cock into your clit, making a mess of it with his precum; the sight of you playing with yourself making him leak even more.

Pushing foward, he glides the shaft of his cock through your soaked folds, but he doesn't push in, making you whine as your cunt throbs.

He slowly slides back and forth, back and forth, coating his dick in your juices. Spreading you open, he dips just the head into your warm cunt, teasing your hole, before pulling back out.

The cruelty of feeling full yet so empty makes you whine and pout at him as you try to grind down onto him, because he's just toying with you dammit.

He swats at your inner thigh, smirking at the little gasping whimper you let out at the sting, before lolling open his mouth, letting his spit drip down onto your cunt and thighs, coating the marked skin there.

You make a small sound of confusion, mixed with a gasping moan, which is ignored as he grips your legs, pulling them closed and up, folding you nearly in half; your thighs pressed together, both feet over his left shoulder.

Trembling in desire, your eyes widen in realization when you feel his wet cock slide through the flesh of your thighs, hot and heavy.

Pressing a kiss just above your ankle, he sighs out, "Keep your thighs nice and tight for me, baby."

You obey, gripping your thighs around his erection. You feel him twitch against your skin, veins throbbing.

Touya grips your legs tightly as he slowly rocks forward, gliding into the tight pocket between your thighs.

"Oh fuck.", you moan as you look down, seeing the glistening head of his cock poke through them before disappearing again as he thrusts, slowly fucking your thighs.

His precum mixes with your slick in a sticky mess as each thrust has the underside of his cock gliding over your cunt, his ladder of piercings there rubbing deliciously over your clit and you shake in sensitivity and pleasure.

Fuck, he's not going to last long like this. You're too fucking pretty like this, your thighs too welcoming, your little sounds too sweet.

Ankles crossed, you wiggle your hips up and down the seat as your thighs flex, clenching rhythmically around him. "Good girl.", he groans, speeding up.

"Fuck.", you whimper at the sweet friction to your clit as your head buzzes at his desperation, feeling drunk on it. Your cunt continuously leaks, aiding the smooth slide of his thrusts.

You feel sensitive to every touch, every drag of his cock, as your second orgasm builds quickly.

Heated hands greedily squeeze and grope at your thighs and over the soft lace before he reaches up to play with your chest, squeezing and fondling, as he leans on the back of your legs, pressing your knees closer to you, folding you even more as he thrusts against you.

You squirm and writhe beneath him, your moans growing higher and louder as your pussy is so very thoroughly teased, and Touya can see that you're on that precipice yet again.

You cum with a cry as trembles wrack through your body; your thighs twitching around his length.

He thrusts a few more times, dragging out your peak before prying your legs apart and shifting a hand to his cock as he strokes himself to his completion with a deep groan.

Thick ropes of hot cum paint your thighs and pussy, a few drops staining your skirt. He presses his tip against your tender clit, smearing and rubbing his spend into you. You give a sweet, broken moan at that; at how filthy and perfect it feels to be marked up like that, claimed like that, as you watch the cum drip down your thighs obscenely.

Your breath hitches as he dips his hand between your legs, thumb swiping up his own release. He brings it up, smearing his cum on your parted lips, eyes locked on yours.

"Suck." His voice is thick and dark, gaze hot as he presses against your lips until you obey, taking it in; licking and sucking on his thumb, lapping at the cum soaked digit, making sure to get every last drop, as you moan softly at his taste.

He hums, pleased, as he pushes into your mouth, moving his thumb back and forth, fucking into it, playing with your mouth; rubbing it into the inside of your cheeks and along your gums as he watches you with lidded eyes and a wolfish grin.

And you wish it was more than just a thumb that's weighing on your tongue as you look up at Touya from under your lashes.

He pulls it out with a wet pop before pulling away fully.

You hold his gaze as you lick the remaining cum off your lips.

Wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb, you smile smugly as you watch him.

"On your knees for me, Dolly. Gotta clean me up, yeah?" Touya's expression is hungry as he looks at you, focused; like a predator stalking its prey and a shiver runs through you.

Because you do so love being his prey.

You happily get on your knees before him, thighs spread, looking up at him with such a self satisfied smile, he thinks you would purr if you could.

You lick him clean, teasing and sweet, until he's hard again, throbbing in your mouth. And then he bends you over the arm of the couch, fucking you stupid as you bounce back on his cock while he gropes and slaps at your ass and thighs, skin tender and stinging deliciously; before he fills you up till you're dripping with him.

And as you lay on the couch, spent and fucked out, covered in his marks and cum, watching his bare back walk out to the bathroom to get things to clean you up, you think to yourself.

What else can you do to make him crazy for you?

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#moonchild701 #mha #bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #my fics #mdni #dabi smut #chubby reader #mha smut #bnha smut

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captain-hawks · 3 months ago

Note

Spicy sleepover with Shoto Todoroki in the back of a car 👀

coming undone

shouto todoroki x f!reader

Your job as pro hero Shouto Todoroki's personal assistant becomes marginally more difficult when he's hit with a Quirk that disrupts his body's temperature regulation abilities—particularly when you have few other options at your disposal in the back seat of his car.

wc: 2.5k

c: 18+only, pro hero!shouto, semi-public sexual activities, dry humping, lap grinding, fingering, coming in pants

SPICY SLEEPOVER — PART V

“Right there,” Todoroki exhales roughly, the leather seat groaning beneath him as he shifts. “Keep it there.”

Despite the borderline pornographic noise crawling its way up his throat as his head tips backward, white and red strands of hair falling across his forehead, it’s most certainly platonic—the steady pressure of your hands on his exposed chest, his black button-down shirt wholly undone.

There are ice packs between your palms and his bare skin, angry swirls of stream hissing from the place where they meet.

Your job has been fairly simple for the past year, being pro hero Shouto Todoroki’s personal assistant. He’s a kind, fair employer that doesn’t want for much, if anything at all—to the point where oftentimes, you have to force him to pass along tasks you should be the one doing. You’re fairly certain that the only reason he even put up a job posting for an assistant in the first place was at the insistence of some of the shareholders at his agency.

The easy, amicable friendship that you’ve found along the way—a byproduct of the large amount of time you spend together—has likely been the one thing that’s kept him from phasing out the position entirely.

But this past week has been difficult, to say the least.

Regardless of his constant tenure amongst the top hero ranks, even he has met his match on occasion. Unfortunately, the match in question this time around was an unstable, overpowered ice-wielding villain whose Quirk had a rare, unfortunate side effect. Finding a weak spot in Todoroki’s defenses when his body began to tip over the edge of overheating from the massive amount of flames flowing out of him, the villain managed to dig its claws into Todoroki’s internal temperature regulation, throwing his body’s equilibrium entirely off kilter.

The effects are expected to fade within the month, but for the time being, Todoroki’s been mostly out of commission as his body temperature rapidly rises and drops without warning. As his assistant, you’ve been by his side nearly round the clock since the incident.

By and large, you like to consider yourself an utmost professional. Because despite the fact that Todoroki continues to dominate social media’s unofficial “Most Eligible Pro Hero Bachelor” poll (something which he wasn’t even aware of until you told him one night over take out food in his kitchen), you’ve managed to avoid your body and mind’s subjective opinion on the matter.

Despite the way it seems as if he shares more with you than anyone else in his life as of late.

Despite his complete and utter avoidance of matchups and dates with no explanation other than, “I’m not interested.”

(Despite the frown that flitted across his face when you laughed as you told him someone at the agency asked you out several weeks ago.)

Despite the fact that sometimes, it feels like the soft, relaxed smile you’ve come to know so well is one reserved just for you.

But your patience and self-preservation have been put to the test like never before as of late—particularly during the moments when Todoroki begins to overheat. Twice already, you’ve had to help him out of his clothes and into an ice cold shower, half of your body getting soaked in the process while you helped him stay upright.

Which is an issue you find yourself faced with now after he insisted he’d be able to make it through a brief appearance at tonight’s hero gala.

At the very least, he managed to make it up onstage for the few remarks at the podium that he was slated for, but once he returned to the empty seat beside you at your table, that’s when things went south. Quickly picking up on the telltale signs of his body temperature rising as you took one glance at his flushed skin, you hardly made it out to the parking lot with a handful of ice packs you’d begged the kitchen staff to give you before he was collapsing in the back seat of his car.

Pointedly ignoring the bead of sweat that seems to be teasing you as it drips precariously down the side of his taut neck, you ask, “You okay?”

Exhaling slowly, he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours as he goes to take one of the ice packs from your grip, moving it to his forehead instead, where sweat-damp strands of hair now lie in a messy heap.

You firmly remind yourself how wrong it would be to mull over how ungodly attractive he looks in this moment as he sits there beside you with his thighs spread wide, chest heaving.

“I think—shit,” he grunts, dropping the ice pack to the floor as a full-body shiver begins to wrack through him.

While most waves are either one extreme or the other, sometimes, his body instantly bounces from cold to hot—or vice versa.

Quickly removing the ice pack you’re holding as well, you shove it to the other side of the back seat and quickly lean forward to the front of the car to swap the air conditioning setting to heat. When you look back at him, you frown. “I didn’t bring any blankets, but maybe this will…”

You start to shrug off your cardigan, but Todoroki reaches a hand out, placing it gently on your forearm.

“It won’t…can you just…” he trails off, his blue and gray eyes staring into yours as he tries (and fails, miserably) to suppress the way his limbs have begun to shake from the chill. Glancing down at where his fingers are still resting against your skin, cold as ice, he shakes his head, letting you go. “Nevermind.”

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s suggesting. And while you’re appreciative that he’s respectful enough of your professional working relationship to backtrack the thought, the scope of your job has already exaggerated such fluid boundaries over the past few days—what’s another line crossed?

You begin to shift, and Todoroki’s eyes go wide as he exclaims, “You really don’t have to—oof.”

Before you can lose your nerve, you slide into his lap.

With his chest to your back, Todoroki doesn’t seem to know what to do at first, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides.

“It’s fine,” you huff out, voice coming out a bit higher than you mean for it to as you grasp his wrists and wrap his cold arms around you.

Both of you sit in silence for a moment, save for the occasional chattering of his teeth, and you hope he’s not looking in the rearview mirror to see the way your eyes are scrunched shut as you try to resist the urge to mentally catalog the way your body fits against his.

“Thank you,” he finally says, voice a little rough.

Though his limbs are still ice against yours, you can feel him begin to relax just a fraction as the combination of your body heat and the warm air blasting through the vents up front begins to defrost his chilled extremities.

“I feel like the shower was worse than this,” you joke, if only to lighten the moment as you remember the sight of the endless rivulets of cold water cascading down his broad, bare chest.

The warm scent of his cologne that clung to the t-shirt he insisted you change into after you ended up halfway drenched yourself.

But as he exhales, a lukewarm huff of air tickling the back of your neck and your body unintentionally sliding deeper into the cradle of his hips as he shifts slightly, you know you’re lying.

This is far fucking worse.

His hand twitches against your chest as he shivers, and you inhale sharply when his thumb unknowingly skates along the skin just beneath one of your breasts, the thin fabric of your dress doing little to dampen the sensation.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all of this,” he sighs, voice taking on a remorseful tone. “I could put you in an easier position somewhere else at the agency, if you want.”

Turning your head sideways, the corners of your mouth tilt downward, brows furrowing. “You think this is going to make me want to quit?”

He shrugs, and you bite the inside of your lower lip to stifle the indecent noise that threatens to burst up your throat as his forearms press into your sides. “I would completely understand.”

“You’re going to have to fire me if you want me gone that bad.”

“Never,” he quickly replies.

You smile. “Dumping ice cold water over your head and wrapping you up in five layers of blankets could hardly be considered a difficult job. And this—this is perfectly fine. You’re kind of comfortable, you know.”

He rolls his eyes. “I can feel you starting to shiver, too.”

Shrugging, you flippantly wave your head. “This is still way more fun than that date I was supposed to go on tonight.”

Todoroki stiffens a bit beneath you, swallowing audibly. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t go.”

Given that you’ve yet to even admit to yourself yet that you’d rather spend time with Todoroki than anyone else, you simply reply, “I knew you were going to need me here tonight.”

Head falling back against the seat once more, he sighs. “I feel like I always need you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you let your gaze fall toward the windshield as you weakly respond, “I’m the one that has to force you to stop doing everything yourself and give me work to do half of the time.”

Todoroki’s quiet for a beat, and you can see him flick his gaze up to the roof of the car from the reflection in the rearview. “Because I don’t want to let myself—”

You blink several times. “It’s okay to depend on me, that’s my job.”

His voice sounds strained when he answers. “It’s more than that.”

It’s a battle in and of itself to resist the urge to fidget in his lap beneath the ministrations of your rapidly galloping heartbeat.

“I want things that I shouldn’t want,” he exhales, voice low and careful.

Briefly, you begin to wonder if perhaps you’ve succumbed to hypothermia.

Carefully, you place one of your hands over his. Todoroki stills, his shivering limbs falling quiet beneath your touch.

“Do I get a say in this?” you ask, lacing your fingers together.

He inhales sharply. “I didn’t think you—”

“I’m good at my job,” you shrug, finding the courage to turn your head sideways to look at him again, your body moving in his lap in the process.

And it’s then that you feel something hard pressing up against your ass.

“You’re very good at your job,” he confirms, the last few words dissolving into a groan that he can no longer stifle.

Letting yourself relax further into him, you angle your face so that your noses are nearly touching. “I feel like there are easier ways to get warm.”

He leans a little closer, the scent of mint gum lingering on his lips as they skirt near the periphery of your own. “Are there?”

You nod, subtly pressing your backside down into his front. “Science would shame us for not trying.”

He groans again, his mouth brushing against yours. “I think you’re right.”

This time, it’s Todoroki who rocks his hips upward, slowly dragging his cock against the divot between your ass cheeks. And when you finally let out the breathy, keening moan that you’ve been holding back, his lips crash into yours in a messy, hungry, sideways kiss.

Your hypothesis very quickly proves itself correct as Todoroki grinds against your ass, blazing heat flooding your body and flaring white-hot in the pit of your stomach as he groans into your mouth, your spit-soaked lips slotted together in the best messy approximation you can make of kissing at this awkward angle.

“Fuck,” he rasps, hands roaming across your front to grasp your breasts.

Shrugging down the straps of your dress and bra, you let your tits spill out, and Todoroki’s hips stutter as his fingers begin to knead your bare, supple skin.

“Want you to feel good, too,” he breathes out, and the gravelly state of his voice alone leaves you whimpering as he begins to pinch and tease your pert, sensitive nipples.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to resist the urge to touch yourself, particularly when your aching, dripping cunt is right within your own reach beneath the skirt of your dress. Sliding a hand down between your legs, you writhe under Todoroki’s attentive touch as you feel how soaked your underwear are.

“Can I—”

His chin is on your shoulder, his eyes focused on where you’re currently stuffing two fingers into your panties and moaning softly as you slide them through your creamy slit. You can practically feel the fresh wave of arousal that leaks from your quivering hole at what he’s asking.

“Please.”

Todoroki lets out a satisfied, relieved sound as his hand makes its way down your chest, quickly replacing your own inside of your underwear. His hips grind up against your ass harder as a near-feral groan rumbles in his chest while he drags three fingers through the sloppy mess your folds have become.

“You’re so wet,” he pants, struggling to get the words out fully as they die on a groan when he slips two fingers inside of you.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, your body drenched in a burning wave of pleasure as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, thrusting a finger in and out of your cunt while he drags his thumb over your swollen clit.

“So fucking warm,” he breathes out, teeth caressing the soft juncture between your shoulder and neck.

“Are you?”

He plunges a second finger inside of you, and you spread your even legs wider in his lap, choking out a moan as he makes a point of fitting his fingers inside of the hot, tight, soaking wet warmth of your pussy, still rutting his hard cock against your ass all the while.

“You are.”

A scorching whip of pleasure snaps sharply inside of you and bursts open wide, flooding your veins with a euphoric, intoxicating feeling that leaves you trembling and gasping and moaning as he finger fucks you through each cresting wave of your sudden climax.

“Shouto,” you whimper.

His hands slide to your hips, gripping you hard as he brokenly moans, dragging his cock up and down your ass in firm, hurried strokes. You can feel it when he tips over the edge of his orgasm, his thick cock pulsing as he comes in his pants, breathing hard.

With one hand grasping the back of the driver’s seat, you turn to look at him, a fond, excited, and dizzying wave of warmth blooming in your chest at how entirely undone Shouto Todoroki looks—lips slightly parted as his chest heaves, eyes alight in post-orgasmic bliss, a dark stain of cum seeping through the front of his pants.

“Warm enough yet?” you ask coyly.

He tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly as his mouth curves upward in a smile that makes your heart leap. “I think you should stay at my place tonight, just in case.”

#shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #dee writes #my hero academia #spicy sleepover

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yzzart · 1 year ago

Text

— 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

★ 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 + 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. ★

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: At all times, someone needs you, but there was one in particular.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18!, smut, riding, size difference, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, p in v, mention of bulge, explicit content, explicit words, sexual content.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.164!

You should be in your universe.

Fighting a criminal, or even pulling a kitten out of a tree. — Or also, tidy up your mediocre apartment that was in the purest mess along with some of Gwen's things, since she had spent the night there.

And you wondered, and prayed, if she had locked the door and closed all the windows. — God, you hope she hasn't left everything out in the open.

You knew, like no one else, that you needed to assume one of your greatest responsibilities and not be distracted by anything from another universe or another canon line. — Your New York needed you; they needed Spider Woman.

At any moment, minute or even second, some villain or a piece from another universe could appear in your city. — Well, it's not hard to admit that you were used to it.

Your duty, loyalty and dignity to protect all citizens of your city was at stake. — But, you could at least take a few hours off, right?

But in such a selfishly cheeky way, there was one person in particular who needed you more than anything; this may sound dramatic or even exaggerated but it didn't matter to you. — This is way out of your worry zone.

"¿Qué está pensando mi princesa, eh?" — Your vague and irrelevant thoughts disappeared in a matter of seconds, like a tiny, soft feather in the winds; that voice so deep, tense and a little breathless landed in your ears, perfectly.

That voice that made your body tremble, and made your mind so clouded and out of control, even you didn't know what to do at certain times. — It seemed that voice had some kind of magic, or even a poison that you loved to mortally quench; a poison you were addicted to.

Opening your eyes, you slowly come back to your reality; the only one that mattered to you. — Your heavy eyes, with the vision a little blurred but clear enough to admire the presence that was in front of you, or rather, below you.

The image of Miguel, devoting all his attention and concentration to you, while you were straddling him. — His big, strong, fearsome body next to the purest white silk pillows, along with the small scratches caused by your fingernails and weak bites scattered across the exposed regions; a sight you could kneel at so blessed it was.

His hair, totally messy and unruly, made his presence even more magnificent; not to mention his red face, not because of some embarrassment or anything like that, but because of the intense pleasure he was feeling for you. — Miguel could feel the burning sensation in his chest.

But, nothing could compare or explain the feeling of your pussy squeezing his dick; Miguel felt, in fact, disoriented and lost when he felt and admired your little pussy swallowing his big fat cock; not to mention the bulge that had grown in your belly, it wasn't all that visible, but Miguel watched with desire, temptation and pride.

O'Hara knew perfectly well that your sweet, hot, wet pussy was made for him. — And if he could spend all that time buried in your pussy without thinking about spider society, the multiverse or his responsibilities as spider man, he would.

Waiting for your answer, or anything to come out of your mouth, one of Miguel's large, rough hands ran up your bare thigh; a long, strong squeeze was directed at the region. — In a matter of seconds, his finger prints would be there.

A simple finger print was nothing compared to all the bite marks and hickeys the dreaded man had left on every possible region of your body. — You bit your lip, not so radically or brutally, and proceeded to direct your hand over Miguel's hand; the size comparison was captivating.

"I was thinking of you." — Your confession came out as a near-whisper, as if it were a secret. — No matter what was going on in your city or the multiverse, you needed Miguel, just like he needed you.

A triumphant, satisfied smile formed on Miguel's desirable lips, and let his fangs stand out, at least a little. — Fangs that have already passed through your entire body, without leaving even a part out; but this is far from being a complaint.

Miguel's reddish eyes, which mesmerized and held you, roamed over your body without haste or impatience. — As much as O'Hara was an extremely impatient man. — He couldn't help but be proud of the marks he'd left on your body, signaling that you belonged to him and only him.

He admires your boobs, which moved slowly according to your movements in his lap, and how your nipples were red from grabbing and sucking them so much. — And he knew how sensitive they were; and Miguel made a point of directing his other hand on one of your sensitive nipples and squeezing it.

"Miguel." — You whimpered, closing your eyes to the painful yet pleasurable touch. — The feel of Miguel's cock pulsing inside you, slaking your desire and the teasing, torturous touch he was getting on your nipple was freaking your head out.

"Te ves tan hermosa así, mami." — The comforting words uttered in his deep tone made you squeeze him tighter, Miguel closed his eyes, quickly, as he felt the tight, delicious sensation. — "Riding me like this."

Removing his hand from your nipple, ending the teasing, torturous action, Miguel places it on your hip; a gentle caress was left on the region, then he signaled and encouraged you to increase the luscious and pleasurable movements in his lap. — In a matter of seconds, you understood and fulfilled your man's request.

The drastic and quick movement of your hips against Miguel's brought moans and grunts from both of your mouths; your thin, needy, melancholy moans against Miguel's deep, rough moans was the enchanted combination.

O'Hara refused to close his hungry red eyes and miss any miserable second of the scene before him; no matter how good he felt or how hard your pussy was squeezing his cock, he wanted to witness everything. — He wanted to see his good girl riding him.

"Mi Dios del cielo." — He moaned, louder this time, and biting his lips deeply, making his own fangs ravage him. — "Vas a ser mi jodida muerte, bebé."

You mutter something incoherent, incomprehensible, but it was probably some word of agreement directly to Miguel. — Not even he tried to decipher what you had actually said. — But, the noise of wet skin hitting and your needy and excited moans ran through the man's head.

"Miggy..." — It was pathetic how Miguel watched his nickname come out of your mouth in such a delightful and whiny way; you decided to place your hands under Miguel's muscular chest, gently running your fingernails over the area.

"¿Qué pasa, mi princesita?" — Miguel knew you wouldn't be able to answer him properly, but he didn't miss another opportunity to tease you. — He looked at your mouth, and mentally repudiated you for hurting your beautiful lips with your teeth. — "Ven aquí, mi corazón, por favor."

His needy words didn't go unnoticed by you, even though you weren't aware of much at that moment, and of course, you didn't fail to fulfill another request from Miguel. — Then, bending down a little more, slowing down the movements, your breasts press against Miguel's and you feel a shiver run through your body at the contact; your hands come up a notch, landing on o'Hara's neck.

Your face was only an inch away from Miguel's, and you could feel his sharp, deep breathing against yours. — Your lips almost struggled against his, and your eyes managed to admire his sharp fangs.

O'Hara felt your eyes fixed on his fangs, admiring and gazing, he knew you were obsessed with them and that turned him on even more. — The fact and the way he was so desperate, so needy for your lips melted every last neuron you had.

"Bésame, mi reina." — Miguel whispered against your lips, tickling you; he didn't even have to say twice for you to heed his warm attention.

In a quick moment, like the blink of an eye, you joined your lips with Miguel's; an action you were desperate to commit. Your soft lips, so soft and silky against Miguel's silky, rough but so desirable lips brought you comfort, in addition to excitement. — You molded yourselves, became one, fully fitted into each other.

Miguel's rough tongue explored your mouth, it seemed like it was the first time the man had kissed you. Your tongue lashed, intensely, against O'Hara's; it looked like they were dancing, fighting for space. — Not to mention the obscene and wet sounds that were running through the dimly lit room.

Sometimes, your tongue touched Miguel's sharp fangs, and it's possible to tell that you did it on purpose and he knew it.

Suddenly, Miguel's hand that was on your hip, helping you move, along with the other, were directed to your thighs; grabbing them tightly, and taking control of the movements. — An unexpected action and surprising you.

A surprised moan came out of your mouth during the kiss, and you even pulled your lips away from Miguel's; but he made a point of biting your lips at the very moment you decided to do so. — The sharp feel of his fangs on your lips caused you to shiver again.

Not distracted, but keeping his attention on you, Miguel gripped your thighs tightly and forced your hips against his, making a real impact on you; from that moment on, Miguel was in control of the movements and in you. — You were completely filled by Miguel's cock, and you could actually feel his heavy balls bumping against you.

O'Hara moved your hips down and up with ease, and modesty, reminding you of the rhythm you were practicing before; but, it was for a little while. — Feeling a pressure, a weight on the bed, which was in a mess, you couldn't see Miguel lifting his legs a little, then bending them; you tried to look back but were stopped.

"No, no, ojos en mí, cariño." — He ordered precisely, and you didn't dare disobey him.

O'Hara couldn't contain the impatience, which in this man was stronger than he was, and he moved your hips harder, with more fervor; he recognized how needy he was for you, and how desperate to fill your luscious pussy with his seed. — You whimpered loud and clear in his ears, which glorified the noises that came out of your mouth.

In the dark room, with both clothes scattered on the floor, the noise of skins clashing, your loud and so excited moans and certain grunts of Miguel controlling the environment. — And your and Miguel's scent mingled with the strong, intense scent of sex.

Miguel felt a thin and a little burning stitch on his neck, he had the notion that it was your nails scratching him again and he had the perspective that you were close to your orgasm; besides your moans started to get louder and your pussy was squeezing him even more. — You didn't have to warn him that you were close to your climax, Miguel recognized it even in your smell; that man knew your body better than you.

"I got you, my love." — He grumbles, and making a little effort, to leave small, wet kisses in the region of your neck. Miguel's lips moved up to your chin, then rested on your lips, leaving a long, promiscuous kiss. — "I got you, my pretty little girl."

As Miguel accelerated the pace of his thrusts, frantically, the noise of the bed moving, thrashing against the wall began to travel through the room and into your ears.

With his big, strong arms, Miguel hugs your waist; and besides feeling the pleasure completely dominating your body, you felt safe and comfortable with him. — It wasn't just the pleasure that was there, of course, the passion, protection and security you felt for each other.

A grunt, easily seen as a groan, brusque and deep but so liberating, exclaimed from Miguel's lips; At the same time, he dug his fangs into his lips and bit down hard, and he could already taste the bitter, metallic taste. — He had reached his peak.

Miguel had filled you in; the warm, sticky, delicious feel of his release against your walls was a blessed thing. — A majestic thing, and one that held O'Hara's mind. — He didn't want to get out of you, and he really didn't. — But, O'Hara didn't stop moving his hips, he wanted you to take every last drop of his cum.

With your face pressed against Miguel's neck, he could feel your labored breathing and low moans along with whimpers. — It tickled the older man's sensitive area and brought a triumphant smile to his lips.

"You did good, Mami." — Miguel moved his head so that his lips were brushing against your ear. — "And mi dios..." — He drew in a long breath, then a hearty but deep-pitched laugh exclaimed in your ears. — "Tu serás mi muerte."

#miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #across the spiderverse

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ms-fade · 2 months ago

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Filthy Obsession

★ Adult!Yan!Katsuki Bakugo x Mean!Dom!Fem!reader.

☪︎ short dabble/thoughts.

☪︎ Warnings: dom/sub, rough and mean reader, bakugo being just a person who wants to be the readers everything, hair pulling, unsafe choking, name calling, toxic relationships, yandere who wants any attention, yandere behavior, uncanny bakugo, reader using Bakugo. THIS IS REALLY KINKY AND MEAN.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you, and he tried so hard to be the one to get your attention. In his eyes the only person that was worthy of his love and attention was you. So he made sure to be around while fighting villains when he knew that you would see.

But it was more then that. He followed you around everywhere, to the bar, to the grocery store, to your work and anywhere to make sure you are safe.

‘Such a idiot,’ you constantly think to yourself while accidentally leaving your curtains open and touching your pussy so openly. as if he didn’t know he was so easily noticed by the public, you noticed the patterns in the media, the news. he was following you.

So each night when you knew he was there, you’d give him a show. Moaning like a pornstar for his attention and fucking yourself with your fingers, pressing a vibrator to your clit. The mission was to make him so hard and have him cumming to the thought of you, acting innocent. and sometimes you just sleep with little clothing to still get something out of him. and you got it, he’d touch himself from the widow and sometimes you find drops of white cum on the porch.

you knew when he’d come into your apartment to steal your clothes, panties mostly, and he was always on schedule. and that’s exactly when you set a trap for him, come home early to surprise him and tell him just what you thought of him.

“The top two hero gonna cry?”

you tug his hair as hard you could, pulling him up slightly from his knees. his hands stay on your legs as you stood above him. A mini skirt just right in front of him and the only thing in the way from your unclothed cunt.

Smirking down at the blonde and his begging eyes, his throat a big scratched from all the screaming he had been doing. it was so pleasurable to watch that you couldn’t feel that bad about it.

“A filthy little man who sneaks around to steal my panties,” you glare down at him, “who said you were worthy enough for them? Huh!”

“Fuck- please, I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Buy whatever you want, anything at all,” his glossy eyes and red cheeks looked so pretty from your view.

“Don’t even deserve my attention. Say it.” You demanded and moved his head around by his hair again.

he groaned. you were right, he was disgusting. if anyone knew he was a bitch to be dominated then he wouldn’t strike as much fear. if this got out he would have a new reputation, but he didn’t care. you were worthy.

“n-not worth your attention. no one deserves you. so generous to put up with me.” it was powerful to know you had him like this. so weak and unable to fight back.

a giggle came from your lips when you jumped forward to place as hand on his neck and squeezed, not caring if it hurt or caused damage. He chocked back on air and his cheeks went fuzzy, his head grew lighter and lighter until his eyes began to close. he didn’t try to pull away, only tapping your things slightly to beg for mercy.

“Oh? I knew i could do anything to you but this is way more then I thought, so you’d let me do anything…” a cocky smirk stained your lips as you let go of his neck and he gasps for air. you even released his hair and let him go limp back down to the floor.

backing up onto the wall of your apartment you spread your legs just a bit. “I am feeling very generous, I’ll let even someone as worthless as you eat me out? then, you’ll become my toy.” he was coming back to life with your words that he lunged and began to say his thanks, kissing your sweet and soft thighs.

“number two hero has money, so you’ll be spending it all on me. Fuck you when I please, when and how.”

nodding his head eagerly he couldn’t take his eyes off your dripping pussy, pushing up the skirt with his hands and holding them there. “thank you, spoil you fuckin’ rotten for the taste of your sweet cunt.” his tongue lapped over your clit like he was starving dog, he sucked and licked on every inch.

Bakugo was willing to be your toy bank, because he knew that you’d never be able to get away from him even if you tried.

@ Don’t steal my works. I don’t give permission to repost on any platform, don’t translate it and repost, don’t steal my work!!

#smut #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader smut #my hero academia smut #bhna x reader #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugo #sub!katsuki Bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha smut #mha x reader

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poppystheories · 5 months ago

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Tyki’s reaction to being slapped fascinates me. This guy gets slapped by a helpless exorcist that's fully at his mercy and he kinda likes it. It wasn’t a weak slap either! Despite the state Allen’s in, it left a mark! But Tyki just laughs it off. Settles down to chat. Lights himself a cigarette.

Let’s face it. It’s charming.

I really like the contrast between Allen’s first meeting with Road and his first meeting with Tyki. Road had no intention of killing Allen from the start, and she wasn't really there to destroy any Innocence, but she gets incredibly rough with him: nailing his arm to the wall, stabbing his eye out, making a pincushion out of him with her candles. She fully delights in the bodily harm.

Tyki’s here to kill Allen and destroy his Innocence. That’s already decided. But he doesn’t brutalize him at any point.

Because Tyki's so casual, you keep thinking: hey, Allen’s going to get out of this totally fine. Someone is going to show up and save him. Lenalee should be looking for him. We haven’t seen the others in a while, so they must be on their way. Someone is going to arrive in the nick of time to save Allen, and everything’s going to be fine. We still have to get to Japan, after all.

But no one comes.

The scene progresses. Tyki keeps talking, he shows off his power a bit, tries to play with Allen like he played with the others. Tries to make him scared, maybe beg a little. He’s fooling around with the prey he’s already caught, like a cat.

But Allen's not scared, and Tyki backs off. The actual physical torture isn't the appeal for him, so if his victim isn't scared there's no reason to get violent.

So now you're thinking, wow, this guy is gonna regret taking his time when someone finally arrives! What a classic villain fumble; failing your mission because you were too busy monologuing.

But no one comes.

Tyki pulls out the card the Earl gave him. And you find out Tyki’s been searching for Allen. Specifically.

That’s bad, but it's okay. It'll be fine. Someone is going—

You turn the page, and Tyki is ripping Allen’s arm off. No warning, no posturing. One second Allen is fine—someone is going to save him, any second now, Tyki hasn’t even hurt him yet—and the next Allen’s fucking Innocence is on the forest floor.

Tyki keeps talking, smiling. Nothing about his demeanor has changed.

He destroys Allen's Innocence. Like it's nothing.

And at this point, you start to realize, maybe no one is coming. Or if they are, it’s already too late.

Tim gets sent away. He can go get help. But, now Allen’s truly alone with the assassin sent to kill him—if anyone’s coming, it has to be now! Where is everyone?!

Right on cue, you finally get to see the other characters.

And they’re still on the fucking ship.

Then maybe Lenalee—

No. Lenalee’s also at the ship. Tyki has his hand hovering over Allen’s chest and Lenalee’s at the goddamn ship.

No one is coming, you realize. No one was ever coming.

And just like that, Tyki kills Allen. Intimately, with a smile. He wants it to be slow, but quiet. He wants Allen to feel how helpless he really is.

Tyki's a serial killer: we've seen him stage his victims before, like leaving Daisya hanging like some kind of grisly ornament. We saw the state he left the General in.

Allen, however, gets more artistic treatment; he's by the far the favorite of Tyki's victims so far, and Tyki doesn't want to disturb the pretty picture he's already made too much, but it needs a little extra flair, doesn't it? A more personal touch.

So he scatters his own gift to Allen over him: a little something to suit his white hair and black coat and red scars, and the last thing we see is the black crescent of despair. Put there quite deliberately; it is not a typical image to appear on a Joker card.

Volume 6 ends, just like that.

It really is a merciless ending. You can't believe that the protagonist will really die here, but even if he somehow survives, his Innocence has been destroyed. The entire scene is built around your expectations as a reader that the protagonist can't die, so someone will save him, or there will be some other interference.

But no. No one was ever coming to save Allen; not this time.

And that? That has consequences.

#allen #tyki #vol 6 #reread #dgm #d gray man #allen walker #tyki mikk #i love love love these chapters

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writingwithcolor · 11 months ago

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Dark features/people as blessed, white and light people as sick

ladyoftheseastuff asked:

I'm writing a fantasy story where the world is permanently covered in snow & ice. The people share a common culture & are loyal to their city states, but they are not homogeneous in appearance; there will be many, many characters coded as PoC. The main religion centers on the sun, & those with dark features are 'favoured' by the sun god, while pale people or anyone who has white/blonde hair are thought vulnerable to "snow sickness", a disease caused by environmental factors (1/2) & have other rules and customs to gain religious approval. It's dangerous & infectious but not well understood. It affects social standing and opportunities, but it's meant to be tied with ideas of youth, vitality, & fear of aging & sickness: it's not limited to those coded as white. This is a cultural detail and not part of the main conflict, but I want to avoid unintentional allegories/parallels & fetishization. Is this a concept that's too close to crossing any of those lines? (2/2)

This feels less like a means to show dark skinned people in an empowering light and more like a weak attempt at subversion. My primary concern (which you have not specified) is how do the "blessed" class treat the "sickly" so to speak. We have fantasy stories like The Grisha Trilogy and Girls of Paper and Fire, which deal with magical ability/feature-based segregation and conflict.

In both cases there is a sense of entitlement which comes with hailing from the "favoured" class, quite obvious, since there will always be an inherent othering metaphor whenever you create such a division, whether it was meant to be a source of conflict or not.

However, the two mentioned series use the "magical people are blessed, non magical people are to be pitied" arc which is somewhat more subtle than divisions created just on the basis of skin colour.

Disclaimer as I do not have albinism or vitiligo: The latter can be extremely harmful, and not just in a racial context, but in cases of albinism, vitiligo etc.

~Mod Mimi

The pitfalls of subversions

While it is always lovely to see dark features considered in a favorable way, there are some issues you may come across. Such a story could easily end up dressing those you wished to uphold as bad guys in the readers' eyes, even if the story's society and the sun god etc. thinks they're amazing, and white and light people as the victims of dark people, deserving reader sympathy. This may especially be the case based on how these groups get treated in the story.

These sort of subversions lean dangerously into "reverse discrimination" plots which are not overall accurate or favorable allegories for your real, human audience. There being diversity on both sides doesn't necessary fix this issue or remove racial or ethnic implications. On that note, and as Mimi mentioned, being demonized and ostracized particularly for skin and genetic disorders like albinism is already a thing. What does your concept say of them?

I think Dark/Black as good and Light/white as bad is a doable concept. Your concept differs a bit from simply subverting black/white tropes. This is not just Black good guys and night skies being peaceful or neutral. It's not just white/light villains (as opposed to victims) or snow symbolling death or sickness.

White and light people are quite blatantly being declared as sick and unfavored and they may very well be victims in the reader's eye with the dark people being the villainous, unsympathetic bunch. Is this your intention?

More to consider

Such a concept requires thoughtful, careful planning and intentional writing. You should have an understanding of what your story implies to the readers and the real-life takeaways.

I think it's possible to make dark skin the favored skin of the sun god without it meaning white/light people stand in a negative light and are sick or unworthy.

Consider what it is that you like about the concept of your story. Can you keep the essence of whatever it is that excites you about your ideas, without denying a whole group of people favor? If not, how will you go about telling such a tale that is not meant to symbolize a sort of reversal of roles discrimination?

Why does the sun god get to determine what is good?

Are there other gods that might have different strong opinions? Perhaps who is favored varies by time of day, season, region, culture, god?

Can dark skin get its favor without white and light features being deemed unfavorable as a whole?

How big of a deal does this favor have to be? I advise reconsidering it being the point of discrimination to white/light people for all the reasons already described.

No matter the directions you go, please research and get the appropriate beta-readers for feedback on the in-depth concepts and story.

~Mod Colette

#Skin color #color symbolism #symbolism #fantasy #discrimination #reverse racism #and other myths #asks

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readychilledwine · 1 month ago

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2 Truths and a Lie

SJM Villain's Week - Day 3 - Deception

Summary - Having Hunt in his dungeon wasn't enough for his former friend. He wanted to hit him where it would hurt the most.

Warnings - Stealing, lying by omition, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetration, power play, boarding dubcon, manipulation, sir/sub dynamics, choking, dumdification, probably something I am missing

A/n - Happy Day 3 of @sjmvillainweek I, uh, plead the 5th

🗡Villain's Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

You were fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

You ran faster down the alley, just hoping you could maybe make it inside of a building and fall into a crowd. It wouldn't give you much of a chance, but it would have to be enough of one.

You had no clue what was chasing you, nor who had sent it, but the target on your back had only grown since Hunt disappeared.

You hadn't spoken to your brother in close to 4 years. The only reason you knew he was even still alive was due to whispers of rumors.

Rumors of him and some starborn half fae female.

Rumors of him breaking free of that thorned halo that haunted him.

Rumors he couldn't be bothered To text you or return a call to confirm.

Some brother.

You took a sharp left, sneaking into a shop in the Eternal City before slowing down. You had never been stupid, a rebellious teen turned into a far too street smart female. You quickly snuck a black short dress from a rack slipping into the dressing room undetected. You changed as quickly as you could, forcing jeans down your long legs with a pout.

They were your favorite. But sacrifices had to be made.

Hunt was blessed with lightning. You were blessed with shifting. Your hair went from a dark black to a soft strawberry blonde, freckles appearing as you finished zipping the dress and snuck back out of the fitting room, past the gossiping workers and out the door.

“You aren't as clever as you think you are,” a deep voice fell into step with you. “I can take you somewhere safe.” You glared up at the blonde malakh.

“Pollux,” you said coldly.

“Little viper,” his hands were in his pockets, the rhythmic pattern of you two walking becoming the only noise between The two of you as his left hand slipped to your waist, guiding you wordlessly to the so called safety he was offering.

The apartment building he walked you into was lavish. Columns stood tall to give it a grand feel, a marble floor, a front desk connected to the leasing office. Even the elevator had a guard that just nodded at Pollux as he pressed the button to open the doors before pressing a “P1” button that glowed white.

“Mr. Fancy Pants over here,” you muttered at him. “Pressing a penthouse button.”

Pollux only glanced at you, “You've grown up.” His eyes roamed every inch of you, “How much of this is what you actually look like?”

You shifted your hair back, long dark waves replacing the strawberry blonde, freckles fading. “The rest is me.”

His hum was soft, “Can't say I don't prefer the blonde.” The elevator ticked slower after rushing past floors, a soft ping as each number went by before it slowed down to a surprisingly smooth stop.

You could only scoff as the doors opened and he ushered you inside, “Good thing I do not live to please you, Pollux.”

“Don't you,” he sat, unbothered by the bite in your response, arms flexing. “Live to please me, I mean?”

He smirked as your tongue clicked, the two of you studying each other, mapping out any signs of weakness. He was tense muscle under golden skin, blonde hair, a chiseled face. Physically, you could not find a single thing you didn't find just absolutely stunning. He scratched his stubble lightly, “Not going to respond, little viper? Or perhaps I should call you something different? Snakes don't tend to change their scales, do they?”

“You could call me my name?”

“I could.”

“Where is my brother?”

Pollux paused at that, “You don't know?”

“Clearly not,” your tone was clipped. All your street smart did not necessarily prepare you for the type of male sitting in front of you. The kind that so easily leaned his elbows on his knees, thighs slightly spread as he began to watch you.

“Your brother is with the asteri. In the dungeon,” the answer was vague, but it fell into line with what you last truly knew about Hunt and his job. “He was tied up at the moment. He sent me as soon as we received information you were being chased down.”

You only nodded, hugging yourself slightly,

“I heard rumors of him with some girl-”

Pollux moved to you, your chin in his hand, “That are just rumors. He had a play thing for a bit. That's where that came from.”

“He never answers my calls?”

“He's busy,” Pollux moved his hand from your chin to the strands of hair hanging in your shoulder. “You are such a pretty little thing, you know that?”

He was far too close to yours, his face angled perfectly. Teenage you, the one who dreamed of hooking up with Hunt's friends out of spite, she was screaming.

“I have other qualities,” your voice was weaker than intended.

“I don't really care about those right now.”

You didn't have time to breathe before he was on you. The battle for dominance was useless for you. He manhandled you with ease, a hand on the back of your neck holding you exactly where Pollux wanted. His lips tasted like methol, be it from cigarettes or tooth paste you weren't sure.

Pollux was intoxicating. The air of danger that surrounded the Hammer was no lost on you. This male, this powerful being was one of the favored malakh. A male so few got away with fucking with. And right now, he was yours.

He lifted you with practiced ease, moving you to another room without breaking the messy kiss he had you in. Her dropped you unceremoniously on the bed ripping his own shirt. Before you could even move to touch him, he had both of your wrists in on hand, forcing you down and laying them above your head, “They stay here.” The tone of his voice would stay with you, that deep baritone aching in your bones. “You don't move until I say you can, do you understand.”

“Yes, sir,” his gaze shot to your face at your response, a brow raising as he smirked.

“Well, you have one trait over your brother.” The stolen dress was ripped off of you, cheap fabric easily splitting in two. “Obedience.”

Pollux was never above lying to get what he wanted, and what he wanted right now was you. Be if for vengeance, for another way to hurt Hunt, or just his own selfish greed to claim and dominate beautiful things.

He knew if you had known where Hunt truly was, his hands wouldn't be exploring every dip and curve of your body. He wouldn't be mapping each scar and freckle like he was discovering new land. No. He'd be very much missing this opportunity with you. He'd lie to his own grave for this.

Fucking the sister of his traitor friend?

Priceless.

Pollux gently squeezed your breasts, “You're going to be the best girl for me, aren't you? Listen well and do as I say?”

Your eyes had started to get the hazy unfocused look, lips slightly parted as you nodded and looked at him. Heat had settled deep into your body, flowing through your veins like liquid fire. That feeling was becoming a drug. One you'd so rarely felt, but he was bringing out of you so easily.

Pollux began to kiss your jawline, memorizing every noise, every sensitive spot. He'd whisper them in your brother's ear later, brag to him about how he bit the spot just below your ear and you gasped for him, back arching like a desperate whore as he toyed with you. He would mark every inch of you, ripping at tender flesh on your neck until it bruised.

Each motion put your scent on him, his on you.

His kissed went lower, licking your collarbones before nipping the left the the right. His tongue licking down your chest until he reached his first destination. Pollux held eye contact with you as he licked the first sensitive bud, sucking your right nipple until it formed a perfect peak in his mouth. Once he was satisfied there, he switched sides, drinking in the noises you made for him as chills went through your body.

“Sensitive little thing,” he whispered the words into your skin, voice deep with his own lust. “You like when I kiss your body, princess?”

“Yes sir,” it was more of a moan than words, one slightly pained as he bit your side, flicking his tongue to soothe the mark he'd left on your ribcage.

His journey down your body didn't stop until your thighs sat over his wide shoulders, “Let's see if you taste as sweet as you're acting.” Torture. It was torture as his tongue dragged through you, licking at your most sensitive place. Pollux considered eating pussy an art form. One he so rarely treated Lidia to, but you, you he would savor. Licking every inch of you until he had his fill. Your clit, your entrance, you so frequently ignored labia. Pollux treated tasting you like he had paid for a 5 star meal. It had your toes curling as he moaned against you, your body arching.

That tightness you knew all too well began to settle In your stomach as he threw his forearm over your hips, stopping you from moving. He caught you whispering his name, the sound of it making him feel as if he were a god. One finger pushed into you, curling up to find your spot as he began running figure 8s with his tongue up and down your clit.

You were not silent when you unexpectedly came. You were a tidal wave, a silent scream falling into whimpers as he praised you through your high, his thumb and finger working at you bringing you down gently as he prepared you for his aching cock.

He couldn't get his pants off fast enough for either of you, regretting his choice to leave them on. He'd never felt this anxious during sex before. He was a confident male, cocky even. But you clearly saw why once he was bare. He gave you a look when your wrists moved, a silent warning of his earlier command. “What did I say?”

“They stay above my head, sir.” He followed your line of sight, smirked as he realized that your eyes were in him, hungry and waiting.

“That's my Good Girl,” he settled between your thighs, one leg being forced around his waist while the other went over his shoulder. “Breathe for me,” he wasn't gentle once he knew he was lined up. He entered you in one movement, watching as your eyes squeezed shut another scream tumbling from your lips as his heavy length filled every inch of you.

He was kind enough to give you a moment to breathe and adjust before one roll of his hips became another then another. The pace increased more and more as you laid there helpless to do anything but let him take and take, pulling you apart at the seams. He was shameless in this mission, his sole goal now to make your warm walls flutter around him. His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him, “You watch me when I fuck you. Got it?” He smirked at your wordlessly nodding, the moans falling from your lips as he held your face there before moving that grip to your throat.

Pollux was electrical. He was magnetic. He was a force of nature, a storm you should have been afraid of, but here you were, below him, calling him sir as he overpowered you. The hand not holding your throat held your hip, forcing you to meet every movement he made, rougher and harder with each passing second.

You'd never last like this, not with the sight of his wings flaring behind him, feeling like some form of damnation instead of the salvation they were believed to represent. And Pollux knew. He could feel your body's response, feel you hugging him tighter, your walls beginning to twitch. He saw the moment your brain shut off, the moment he made you go cock dumb.

He decided then and there he would not kill you.

You were of no use to him dead.

This apartment was his, he would keep you here. Alive, aching, yearning. His new favorite toy.

“Please sir, may I come?” And those 5 words sealed that fate.

“You may, princess.” Pollux watched as you fell apart for him. He watched and counted each rule you broke. Hands moving you grip the wrist squeezing your throat. 2 spankings he'd give you later, swearing. Another spanking. Not thanking him. Another.

He counted each of those things again as he shut off the light, leaving you sleeping in his bed as he redressed without shower. The ride down to the dungeon felt like it was taking far too long, his smirk growing as he entered the room Hunt, Ruhn, and Baxian were hung up in. Pollux simply walked close to Hunt saying nothing as the shell of the Umbra Mortis sniffed him, his face falling farther as he did.

“Don't fucking touch her!”

“Already did,” Pollux replied smoothly as Athalar pulled on his chains, a new fire in him. “And I will again.”

General Taglist:

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#elizabeths.updates #send asks #pollux crescent city #crescent city x reader #pollux x reader #pollux x you #pollux x y/n #pollux #the hammer #crescent city fanfiction #sjmvillainweek #sjmvillainweek2024 #sjmvillainsweek day 3

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arthurbristow · 2 months ago

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The night air was cold and thick, heavy with the stench of sweat, dirt, and failure. The rain had long stopped, but the dampness still clung to the streets, making everything feel oppressive.

The rest of the League had gone out on various errands — Twice had muttered something about scouting locations, Toga was off on her own twisted business, and Dabi had left without a word, his typical indifference hanging in the air.

It was just you and Shigaraki now, and the atmosphere in the hideout was heavy, oppressive.

You sat on the edge of a broken-down couch in the dim, crumbling warehouse that served as the League of Villains’ temporary hideout, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

The aftermath of the botched mission hung in the air like a noxious cloud, and you could feel the tension simmering, thickening with each passing second.

Across the room, Shigaraki Tomura paced back and forth like a caged animal, his movements jerky and erratic, every step an explosion of pent-up anger. His red eyes glowed with a fury that hadn’t subsided since the mission went south. His fingers twitched, clawing at the air, brushing dangerously close to his neck as if he was barely containing the urge to grab at the skin beneath his collar and tear it apart.

They had failed. He had failed. The kidnapping of Bakugo had gone sideways — again — and now Shigaraki was teetering on the edge of a meltdown.

“I had him!” he snarled suddenly, his voice echoing off the walls of the dilapidated room. His boots scraped against the floor, the sound as harsh as his breathing. “We had that damn brat right in our hands, and they — those fucking heroes — had to ruin it!”

You flinched at the sharpness of his words but stayed silent. His fury was like a storm, wild and untamed, and you knew better than to step into its path without caution. Still, watching him unravel like this — it sent a chill down your spine.

He stopped pacing for a moment, one hand coming up to claw at his white hair. “Every damn time… every single time we get close, it falls apart!” His voice was growing louder, more frantic. “Those damn heroes, they think they can just—”

“Tomura…” you said quietly, trying to find a way to ground him, to pull him out of this spiral.

His head snapped toward you, eyes blazing. “What?” he spat, his voice venomous. “What the hell do you want?”

You froze under his gaze. You’d seen him angry before, but there was something different this time — something more unstable. His frustration with Bakugo’s escape had compounded, twisting into a deep, festering rage that seemed ready to consume him.

“I—I just wanted to help,” you stammered, your voice weak, the words clumsy in your throat.

“Help?” he repeated, a mocking edge to his tone as he stalked closer, each step filled with barely contained violence. “You think you can help? You think anyone can help when I can’t even—” His voice broke off, his breath hitching in a ragged gasp. “This was my chance to prove it. To show the master that I’m more than just some kid with a quirk that destroys everything he touches. But of course fucking All Might had to intervene!”

His face twisted in frustration as he dragged a hand through his hair again, fingers shaking. The movement was erratic, desperate, as if he could somehow pull the failure out of his mind if he could just grip hard enough.

The sight of him like this — so raw, so vulnerable under all that fury — made your chest ache. You wanted to reach out, to offer something — anything — to ease the madness burning in his gaze, but how could you? You weren’t sure he’d even listen.

“Tomura-kun,” you tried again, softer this time, more careful. “It wasn’t your fault. We’ll get another chance. We can—”

“Shut up.” His voice was low, but it cut through the air like a knife. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing beneath the curtain of his hair. “I said shut up.”

“I just… I just don’t want you to blame yourself.”

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Blame myself? Oh, I’m very aware of whose fault this is. It’s mine. It’s always mine.”

You stood from the couch, your pulse quickening, but you couldn’t just sit there and watch him tear himself apart. Still, against your better judgment, you stood and crossed the small space between you. He didn’t stop you, didn’t even look up as you approached, his eyes fixed somewhere on the far wall, lost in whatever thoughts he was keeping locked away. His hair was an unruly mess, strands sticking to his forehead, clinging to his cheeks. “Tomura, stop. You don’t have to carry this—”

His hand shot out before you could finish, fingers wrapping around your wrist in a vice-like grip. His touch was cold, painful.

Instinctively, your gaze darted to where his thumb and four fingers gripped your arm — but his fifth finger hovered, suspended just above your skin. So close. Just millimeters away. The threat was immediate, palpable. One flick, one slip, and you would decay into nothingness. Your flesh would turn to ash in an instant, just like everything else he touched.

“Boss…” you whispered, your voice trembling, but you didn’t pull away. Fear churned in your stomach, cold and sharp. “Please. Let me help.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he hissed, his voice low and deadly, his face inches from yours. “You think I care about your hollow words? You think your comfort means anything to me? And you want to help?” he spat, his grip tightening, though his fifth finger remained just shy of contact. His red eyes bore into yours, filled with rage and something darker, something more desperate. “You can’t help me. You can’t fix this. You think you’re different, but you’re not. You’re nothing, just like the rest of these morons are!”

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. Without thinking, you moved even closer.

His eyes followed you warily, but he didn’t pull away, not yet.

Slowly, you reached up, brushing the strands of his white hair out of his face. The touch was gentle, and for a moment, he let you do it, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers grazed his skin. You tucked the loose strands behind his ear, your hand lingering for just a second too long.

His body went rigid under your touch. The air between you stilled, his crimson eyes widening ever so slightly in shock. His breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, the rage in his expression faltered, giving way to confusion. He stared at you, as though he couldn’t understand what you had just done, as though your gentle touch had cut through the chaos swirling in his mind.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You think you can fix me? That this—” He gestured to your hand. “—is going to make a difference?”

“I don’t want to fix you,” you whispered. “I just don’t want you to feel so alone, boss.”

Shigaraki didn’t move. He didn’t let go, either. His fingers trembled against your skin, the tension in his grip a constant reminder of the fragility of the situation. “Why?” he rasped, his voice hoarse, broken.

You swallowed, heart still pounding, but your voice remained steady. “Because I care. I’m here, boss. And I’m not leaving.”

His grip loosened, just enough for you to breathe again. “I’ve killed people, you know,” he claimed suddenly, his voice cold, detached. “I’ve wiped them out without a second thought. Innocents. Villains. Heroes. It doesn’t matter to me. Everything I touch turns to dust. I don’t deserve kindness of any kind.”

You stood your ground, even as the danger of his quirk lingered so close. “Maybe you don’t think you deserve it,” you said quietly, “but you do.”

With a shuddering breath, he let go. His hand fell to his side, his entire body sagging as though the weight of his anger and frustration had drained him. He looked away from you, his expression hardening once more, but there was a crack in the armor — a crack that hadn’t been there before.

“No matter how much you push me away, boss, I am not leaving. I believe in your cause.”

But Shigaraki didn’t respond. He turned away, retreating into the shadows, his shoulders hunched, his hands trembling at his sides as he mumbled something under his breath.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the tears burning at the corners of your eyes. But you didn’t let them fall. Not in front of him.

And as you watched him retreat into the shadows, you knew that no matter how close you got, no matter how much you tried, the chasm between you would always remain. He was right. You couldn’t fix him.

Shigaraki was alone.

And deep down, you knew he always would be.

#tomura shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #league of villains #shigaraki angst #x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura

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bet-on-me-13 · 2 years ago

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So, you know how there are a bunch of Fics where one of the Robins comes back as a ghost when they die? Most of the time it’s Jason, sometimes Tim, and Dick and Damian once in a blue moon

But has there ever been a Ghost Cass AU?

Cass dies while on Patrol, maybe is was a villainous plot, maybe it was a random goon getting a lucky shot, maybe she was killed by somebody she trusted...maybe...

Whatever way she died, Cass ends up as a Ghost.

I can see 2 different paths this could take, depending on where she reforms:

PATH 1: Cass Reforms where she died

Cass is reformed where she died, probably very soon afterwards or a few hours later. The Batfamily have not had time to get over their Grief, they only just retrieved her Body an hour ago and need to go back to the crime scene to investigate.

And once they get there, they see what looks like Cass’s Orphan costume but colored differently, just sitting there in a daze. She just became a ghost, only a few hours after her death due to her exposure to the Lazarus Pits, and it was Jarring. Not to mention the Pure Ectoplasm she is made of is reacting weirdly to the corrupted Ectoplasm that is in Jason, making her anxious.

Meanwhile [Insert Batfam member] and Jason are confused, scared, and paranoid. [Batfam member] remembers reading a few articles in passing while researching Lazarus Pits. They were about the Ectoplasmic Entities made from Lazarus Water called Ghosts, how they are imprints of a human consciousness after an emotional death. They are also completely malevolent and non-sentient.

[Batfam Member] doesn’t hope to believe that this is Cass, all the research says that this is a pile of goop pretending to be her. Of course this makes them mad, not only is this thing wearing their sisters face, it will also probably hurt people when it gets strong enough using said face. It feels like an insult. And Cass can’t even defend herself to them, since she lost whatever was left of her ability to speak when she became a Ghost, and she is too dazed and weak to do Sign Language.

[Batfam Member] explains what they know about Ghosts to Jason, how this isn’t Cass at all, just an imprint of her memories. They say this right in front of her, which scares her since they don’t seem to consider her a person anymore, just a thing using Cass’s face

Back when they first read up on Ectoplasmic Entities, he made sure to get a small Ecto-Infused Knife for everyone in the Family in case they ever encountered one.

They bring it out, but before they can do anything, the Ghost of Cass recognizes it and runs away.

Jason is mad that [Batfam Member] instantly went for the knife, or didn’t think to look for any second opinions.

Cass runs to the Batcave, but she gets there as [Batfam Member] is explaining what Ghosts are on the big screen to everybody else. She also sees her own body, laying on a table in the center of the room. She starts to believe that [Batfam Member] is right, that she can’t be the real Cass, just a reflection. And she can’t stay here, the others are bound the believe [Batfam Member] over her now

She runs away, not even revealing herself to her family.

She runs and runs and runs for hours upon hours, non stop, across state lines, until she reaches a place where her instincts were telling her to go. It feels like the air is clear, like she has more energy. She has made it to Amity Park.

From there you can go in any direction you want.

PATH 2: Cass Reforms in the Zone

Cass reforms in a random place in the Zone, in a color swapped version of her Orphan costume. She wakes up to see a sky of green and ground of purple, completely alone, no one around her.

She wanders for a bit, but a run-in with a Monster forces her to run. As it chases her, she finds that she can fly, but so can it.

As she is running, a blast comes from above her and blasts the monster away. She looks up to see a guy with Green-Blue Skin, pointy ears, and white hair, in a Black Hazmat Suit, floating above her.

He introduces himself as Phantom, and explains that she must be a Ghost. She can’t respond because she lost the last of her ability to speak, but thankfully he knows Sign Language

She can’t remember how she died, but she remembers most of the rest of her life. She takes off her mask, and you can see that she looks like normal Cass with Green Skin, white Hair, and the pointy ears. Also small fangs cause I think those are cool.

Danny helps her around, teaches her about the Zone, introduces his living friends, all that. She even meets a cute clone named Ellie, but that’s besides the point. Eventually, after a few weeks of traveling the Zone and learning about her new abilities, she asks if she can go see her family. Danny agrees, but says that first he should teach her how to shapeshift so she can look human enough to go to the living world.

Which is how Danny and Cass learn that Cass is a Halfa (due to her exposure to the Lazarus Pits). While she is thinking of her human form, a ring of gold energy surrounds her and she suddenly has a heartbeat again. She’s also extremely hungry cause Ghosts don’t need to eat, but Halfa’s do (even if it is significantly less)

By the time she goes to see her Family, they are not as high strung or paranoid as they would have been directly after her death, so they are more willing to listen to reason. Also with Danny there (and maybe ellie), he can explain what she can’t.

But now they don’t know what to do, they still haven't figured out who killed Cass, all they know is that she was definitely killed, it wasn’t an accident.

What comes Next? I also don’t know, I need suggestions!

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