#If it had tear ducts it would have cried.''

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

rhythm heaven lore is so fucking stupid, i love it-

[with-my-calamitous-love]

HE SAW FOREVER SO HE SMASHED IT UP

katsuki bakugou x reader

the times bakugou broke your heart

heavily inspired by mbobhft

1) the denial

“are we breaking up?”

“…yeah.”

“oh.”

his reasons made sense. he had a job, a goal, a burning drive to prove himself as the best. he was burnt out, his fingers worked to the bones. he couldn’t give you not just what you wanted, but what you needed. and that killed him more than it did you.

it made sense. the gears turned. the writing was on paper. like almost everything he did, it worked out. of course it worked out for katsuki bakugou- he’s the best.

it wasn’t all that set in stone for you, however.

he could have given you a million more reasons before the tears spilled. “i’m an asshole.” true. “i don’t treat you right.” fair. “you deserve so much fuckin’ better, [y/n.]” yeah, he was right.

but you always liked to challenge the acceptable.

at first, it didn’t hit you as hard as you thought it would. you walked through your room, too numb to pay mind to the tears that rolled down your cheeks, and silently packed up his sweaters into a box. the necklace he gave you, the ‘k’ pendant, came off your neck like a butterfly lands on a branch, knowing that its death is inevitable and doing nothing to stop it.

at night, you cried, and cried, and cried. you called him about 27 times. he never answered. he texted you to make sure you were okay, but your tear-blurred eyes kept you from seeing the keyboard clearly. you left him on seen and prayed that he was worried, prayed that his heart would explode at your lack of an answer, prayed to god that he would come over just to check on. suffice to say your prayers were left unanswered.

you thought he’d call. but he didn’t. but your soul remained devoted, eyes glued to your phone screen and hands shaking. he has to call. he has to tell you goodnight. he has to tell you that you’re an idiot. he has to tell you he loves you. he’s going too, idiot.

right?

2) the anger

if he wanted you dead, why didn’t he just say?

your heart burned for anger. for salvation. for revenge. you knew katsuki bakugou knew anger well, but he had no idea the way your soul flared like a whole new depth of hell.

you laid in bed, awake, eyes excruciatingly drive from crying your tear ducts may as well have been burnt off. memories of him haunted your brain while your fists tightened.

you regretted giving him your heart. your love. your late nights and early mornings. your fights, your passions, your 2ams and your smiles. you hated the way you let him draw the laughter out of you, how he showed parts of himself to you he had never shown anyone.

and those little things that made up your love, he was going to use on someone else. you knew it.

he was going to cook them his special fried rice his mom taught him how to do. he was going to teach them how to punch because he doesn’t want them to get hurt- something he did for you. he was going kiss them how he kissed you, love them in a way that should have only been you.

but he shouldn’t. in fact, he should look back at what you had, and regret every. single. thing. he did to let is end. he should regret everything he didn’t do to keep you. he should burn alive from guilt. scream. cry. fight for his life while his body is doused in gasoline. attempt miserably to tear the fire off his skin while it burned him to a crisp. he should die screaming.

he should deserved it, after all. because he heard your screams, and put his headphones on.

3) the bargaining

please. you wailed. who do i have to talk to? what do i have to do to get him back!?

you suddenly thought of so many scenarios in your head, scenarios fuelled by false hope. things you’d do to kiss him one last time, to hold him, to love him and be loved by him. you’d dry the ocean water. you’d turn stones into gold. you’d bring him to heaven and back. you’d get out of bed. you’d compromise more. you wouldn’t forget to kiss him. you’d love him. you’d love him so much harder. please.

suddenly everything seemed possible. if someone answered your calls, if someone made a deal with you, you’d offer up everything. you were sure you’d place everything on the line for him. you want it all back- his yelling, his snark, his nicknames, his attitude, his everything- no, your everything. you’d pluck out your own eyes for his red ones, or your heart for his heroic soul that loved you brighter than anyone else. being loved by katsuki bakugou was something you wouldn’t trade for anything- turns out you couldn’t trade it either.

4) the depression

everything smelled like him. your sheets blossomed into his sweet, burnt scent, the one that he’d leave behind whenever he slept over simply because he left you. all your jackets felt like his chiseled arms, wrapped around you as if you’d be gone in a moments notice. his voice was everywhere. the songs on the radio, the words you read on your phone, and the memories that played like your favourite movie soundtrack.

you wondered if he knew you couldn’t get out of bed. sometimes you imagined him calling your ass lazy, and then dragging you out of bed with a kiss to your forehead and a breakfast he cooked for you. maybe then you’d rip off the sheets and face the day. but right now, your bed was the only place you could mourn.

it was cruel, in a sense. letting you fall in love with him only to leave. letting you fall in love with his stupid smug smirk, his laugh, his teasing, his anger, his unreasonable handsomeness, his millions of pet peeves and trigger words, his clinginess, his distance, his days and nights, ups and downs, his hate and love all tied into one. he made you love him, knowing you would never get to love another katsuki bakugou.

5) the acceptance

acceptance was bakugou realizing how badly he fucked up.

part 2 soon!

[dilfsfordinner]

summary- toji fails to prevent a completely preventable messy incident from occurring, involving his son

pairing- husband toji x fem!reader

—————————————————————————

“You wanna do it?” Toji grinned, eyebrows raised as he watched little Megumi tug the ratchet from his grasp, waddling towards the raised car, brave enough to face the thing he’d thought a transformer just months prior.

Your car was in dire need of an oil change and being the caring husband that he was, Toji took up his place as mechanic for the day, his worry about typical shop workers taking advantage of women evident in his pleas for you to just stay home and let him do it.

Megumi also took up his place as the incredibly curious and stubborn one year old, his job apparently to make Toji’s work as hard as humanly possible, every babble or questionable crash tearing Toji’s attention away from the task at hand, which is why he stopped trying, and just let his son indulge in his childlike curiosity.

Of course, you would lose your mind if you knew that your baby was around such a large machine, but Toji knew himself and his capabilities, his reflexes practically inhuman, so he didn’t really mind a little thing running around his feet, as long as he kept an eye out.

“Alright, Megs, give it back,” Toji said gently, hand curling open to reveal a waiting palm, Toji realizing that the young boy did not intend to help him underneath the car. Rather, he’d started a game of tag, little feet scurrying to the other side of the garage, awaiting his father’s move.

Refusing to let a one year old bruise his competitive spirit, Toji used his skills to be across the room in a split second, large hands grabbing Megumi before he could run away, a loud slew of giggles leaving the young boy’s lips, Toji smiling as he held him up with only two hands, walking towards the car like he was holding a feral cat.

Setting the babbling child down, Toji got down on his level, kneeling to tell Megumi to stay back and watch for a second. Pulling himself under the car, Toji then began to use Megumi like a little assistant, asking for tools as needed. “Wrench please” and similar phrases continued for a while before Toji was ready to actually do the task at hand.

Humming in approval at his handiwork, Toji made one final request to the boy sitting beside his feet. “Can you get the jug of oil for me, please?” he asked gently, hands busy holding the port above him closed, his ears catching an excited “yes” and the patter of running feet retreating farther into the garage.

Too preoccupied to notice the unusual length of time it was taking for his son to grab the requested bottle, Toji continued his tinkering before an odd smack sounded, glugging sounds following soon after.

Pausing his movements, Toji craned his neck to try and see his son but before he could even question what had happened, a familiar sniffle sounded at his feet, loud cries flowing from his baby’s mouth.

Sighing, Toji quickly screwed the oil duct tight, and pulled himself from under the car. The sight he emerged to was certainly a surprising one. There, right next to all of his discarded tools, was an oil-covered Megumi, his whole body completely drenched with the thick, black substance.

Letting out a sympathetic laugh and sweet “It’s okay”s, Toji scooped up his crying child, tutting as the dripping kid hid his face in his dad’s chest, trying to hide or remove the liquid, Toji couldn’t tell.

Completely clueless to the situation outside, you were busy in the kitchen, making a snack for your husband as a thank you. For the first time in an hour, familiar footsteps sounded behind you as you chopped up some vegetables, smiling to yourself as you expected two arms to come wrap around you. What you didn’t expect was to hear the wails of your baby boy, and you especially couldn’t have prepared yourself to see him in the flesh.

“What happened,” you gasped as Toji held the young boy to his chest, a black trail of droplets gathering around his feet as you rushed up to the two of them. Cradling little Megumi’s face, oil coated your hands, anger bubbling inside of you, the only funnel being a slap to your husband’s shoulder, narrowed eyes turning up to meet his own.

“I told you to leave him in here,” you huffed, your angry tone fizzling into sympathetic coos as your attention turned back to your son. “It was an accident,” Toji’s voice had that humorous lilt to it, one that was really good at making your very motherly nature less worrisome. “It happens to workers all the time, he’ll be okay.”

And he was right, because after what seemed to be hours of scrubbing and a whole bottle of dawn dish soap later, the previously oily Megumi was squeaky clean, and incredibly happy as he munched away on his dinner. Toji couldn’t help but retell the story a million times, ignoring your reprimanding words as he fell into a fit of laughter, which eventually had your lips starting to pull into a smile, Megumi none the wiser, his memory about the incident already wiped away.

—————————————————————————

[skyrigel]

" It's okay baby, leave him." You grabbed Simon's hand, too big against yours but the effect wasn't, his gaze softened when he met yours, you had seen the murderous glare he gave that man.

" But—"

" he doesn't deserve it babe, c'mon, let's not ruin our date." You hopped on your feet, dragging him with you not that you could but he simply allowed himself, squeezing your hand gently as he leaned to kiss each knuckle.

" You're an angel." Simon smiled, his eyes filled with warmth as he carried the books along.

" and you're my angel ! " You grabbed his collar, pulling him in a kiss, you were almost sure that Simon was going to kill him, but Simon didn't pick up fights, never when you told him not to, he kept out of trouble. Angel

" Ofcourse." Simon peppered, glancing at the other lane but the man who ' accidentally ' grabbed your butt was gone.

—

Simon was reluctant but it has to be done, he took your arm that was wrapped around him and placed it on the pillow, sliding away as his foot touched the cold floor, how much he just wanted to be wrapped in your warmth and smell, you looked extra angelic when you were asleep. He pressed down a kiss on your forehead, sighing deeply.

He didn't like lying to you but you were just too good of a girl, always forgiving, always nice, always angel and these fuckers, they just didn't deserve any of it. He locked the door as he made his way to his workshop, humming along a song you liked very much, thinking about making pancakes for you tommorow.

The workshop was dark with it's steel and iron, he didn't bother to light it up as he pulled a vase aside, revealing a switch he turned up, a creaking noise followed and small space opened down the floor, revealing a steep staircase.

He heard it, his heart relished as he did, the sobbing was like music, Simon descended down the stairs, a smirk plastered to his face

" Hi Bastard" He opened the lights, the man in question squeezed his eyes, his whole body bleeding with ropes too tight against his naked body.

" ple...plea.. please." He croaked, Simon made sure to keep his mouth open because how wonderful it would be to scream and scream and have no one to hear, blood brilliant.

Simon grabbed a nail, placing it between the bruised man's knuckles, he had duct taped his wrist to a table.

" oops." Simon said nonchalantly, as the man screamed with his dry throat, the hammer striking on his middle finger on instead.

" ... please...I be..g " he was howling, Simon shaked his head, looking at the nail that was yet to be penetrated.

" My girl is very soft you know, very sensitive my cupcake." He said, placing sharp edge of the nail on his index finger, looking into his eyes while the man cried back in horror, " I understand that was an accident."

" sorry...so..AHAH ! " He shrieked when the hammer hit the nail, blood splashing out.

" you touched her with these filthy fingers, didn't you ? " Simon sighed, his eyes glinted when the man broke into a cry, big tears mixing with blood as the came down his pathetic face.

" perhaps it was the left hand, don't you think ? " He perked up, the man shaked his head profusely, throat unable to form a scream as Simon shifted his gaze to the left hand, " Oh, you think so too." Simon whispered it down, revealing a box full of nails.

Masterlist

[bluelocksource]

Alexis Ness’ trivia (src: EGOIST BIBLE 2)

☆ Character's color: Magical Purple.

☆ Weapon : Illusion Cross.

☆ Birthday: 16th March.

☆ Current age: 18 (at the start of NEL).

☆ Zodiac: Pisces.

☆ Nickname: "The Magician"

☆ Birthplace: Hamburg, Germany.

☆ Family: Father. Mother. Older brother. Older Sister. Himself.

☆ Current height: 181 cm.

☆ Foot size: 28 cm.

☆ Dominant foot: Right.

☆ Blood type: AB.

☆ Visual acuity: 1.0

☆ Grip strength: 53 kg.

☆ Motto: "Magic resides in those who believe."

☆ Team: Bastard München.

☆ Starts playing football: At age 8. "First time I saw it in a stadium. I will never forget that football magic."

☆ Hobby: Discovering magic. "The world is filled with all kinds of magic!"

☆ Favorite food: Sachertorte. "The combo with whipped cream and coffee is the best!"

☆ Dislike/hated food: Herring pie. "My mom isn’t a great cook, and this one is especially terrible."

☆ What goes best with rice:  "Cheese curry, maybe. "

☆ Favorite animal: Flying squirrel. "It's cute and can fly—how fantastical!"

☆ Favorite season: Winter. "A clear winter sky makes feel like I could fly."

☆ Favorite movie: The Notebook.

☆ Favorite music: "The Rose" by Bette Midler.

☆ Favorite football player: Michael Kaiser.

☆ Favorite subject: Ethics & P.E.

☆ Weak subject: Maths & Physics.

☆ Mushroom shoots vs Bamboo shoots: "Probably mushroom. They have cute shape!"

☆ Ideal type: "A strong person who can control their solitude."

☆ Fixation: Lonely expressions. "It makes me feel like I can understand their solitude."

☆ What would make him happy: "When others share in my excitement."

☆ What would make him upset: "The denial of magic I believed in." 

☆ What he thinks his strength is: Valuing the invisible (feelings, wishes, thoughts).

☆ What he thinks his weakness is: Stubbornness. "Not bending on what I believe in (though I don’t really think of it as a weakness)."

☆ What made him cry recently: “I can’t remember. I cry often. My tear ducts are very sensitive... Hehe ♪”

☆ Usual sleeping hour: 6.5 hours.

☆ Number of chocolates received from previous Valentine: 10. "It seems they were delivered to my team! Thank you!"

☆ Place he washes first when taking a bath: His arms.

☆ What will he do if received 100 million yen: "I’d probably consult with Kaiser. I might say something like “I don’t need this crap,” though!"

☆ At what age he stops receiving presents from Santa: "I didn’t have that kind of thing at home. So I prepared my own stockings. Not that he ever came."

☆ What was his last wish from Santa: "Anything was fine. Anything at all."

☆ How he spent his holiday:  "Training with Kaiser. Eating with Kaiser. Shopping with Kaiser. With Kaiser... etc."

☆ What will he do during his last day on Earth: "I hope for a miracle so that day won’t actually be the last."

☆ Favorite historical figure: Joan of Arc.

☆ If he hadn't encountered soccer, what will he be doing: "I wonder if I would still believe in magic."

☆ If he could only take one thing to a deserted island, what would it be: "Kaiser. Wait, is a human not allowed? Then I don’t need anything."

☆ If he had a time machine, would he go to the past or the future: The past. "I would hug my younger self, who believed in magic and cried alone, and tell them, “It’s okay to be just as you are.”"

note: i want to apologize in advance for any mistake made in the translation!

[feasibilities]

"Perhaps you should have some, clear your head."

Investigative Reports | Jonathan Crane x Journalist!Reader

Warnings: Non-Con, Drugging, Kidnapping, Dumbification, Bondage, Corruption, Pet Names, Hallucinations, Cockwarming, etc. Author's Note: I finally got around to writing this! This insane post got a lot of hilarious/supportive reactions, so thank you. I hope it really is The Most Disgraceful Fanfiction Ever Made.

“Would you like to see our treatment facility?” Jonathan inquired, smiling faintly.

“Of course. Where is it located?” You said, looking around curiously. 

“The elevator will take us there.” Jonathan replied, guiding you inside. You wondered why he was so eager to show you this “facility”, but it would be good for your article on Arkham Asylum. You also noticed that his hand lingered on your lower back. You made a mental note of the floor being accessible by key only. The door opened to a poorly lit corridor with double doors at the toward the back. A sinking feeling in crept into your gut but you followed behind him anyway. He opened the doors to an underground sweatshop. You saw the faces of some of the criminals who mysteriously avoided being prosecuted. 

“This is where we make the medicine.” Jonathan said. You quickly realized this was a trap. Why would he be willing to show you this if he would let you leave? A feeling of panic clawed at your internal organs but you stayed perfectly still.

“Perhaps you should have some, clear your head...” He said in a restrained tone, swallowing harshly. His icy disposition transformed into that of a monster. You ran for the elevator and frantically pressed the buttons. The doors never closed. You scurried out and ran down the hallway. You ducked into one of the empty holding cells. You saw a white bed with restraints. You hid in the corner behind it and held your breath. Tears rolled down your face as you blamed yourself for taking on this story. 

“Ready or not, here I come.” A ragged, disorienting voice spoke. Your heart dropped as the voice was a complete contrast from the composed one you heard minutes ago. You covered your mouth to muffle any sobs. You heard his footsteps click down the corridor before they stopped in front of the cell you were in. You crouched to make yourself as small as possible. You saw a figure with a burlap mask over his head. 

“Hmm, I wonder where she could’ve run off to.” Jonathan said sarcastically, knowing exactly where you were. Walking to your hiding spot, he stood over you. 

“There you are, princess.” He cooed. He kneeled down and wiped your tears with his thumb. You cringed at his touch and tried to scoot away. He pulled you back and put a white cloth over your mouth and nose. Your struggling was useless. Blackness crept into your vision as you lost consciousness. 

——

You woke up to an unfamiliar bedroom and a throbbing headache. This room was quite different from the dilapidated cell you fell asleep in. You didn’t recognize the pink silk nightie you had on. You were tucked in perfectly as well. You had little to no memory of the night before. Jonathan came in and shut the door behind him. Checking his watch, he smiled to himself. 

“Just in time.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“What happened? My head is killing me.” You inquired, sitting up slightly. 

“You had a fall and hit your head. I know how to make you feel better.” He said softly, pulling the comforter from your body. His smooth hands ran up your thighs. 

“I-I don’t think this will help.” You hesitated. 

“Of course it will.” Jonathan replied. You pushed his hands away and tried to cover yourself once more. 

“I guess I’ll have to tie you up, darling.” He relented, retrieving rope from the nightstand. He removed your nightie and folded it neatly. He tied you in the Shibari style of the Star Harness with your arms bound. He covered your mouth with duct tape. He pulled you to the edge of the bed and bent you over. You cried desperately in hopes that he would stop. 

“Shh. The more you struggle, the longer it lasts.” He hushed you, kissing the back of your head. He took in the sweet smell of your hair. You felt him slide into you slowly, whimpering at his size. His thrusts were slow but deep to the point of causing pain. Your knees buckled with each thrust. 

“Already falling apart, hmm? Isn’t that sweet...” Jonathan purred, speeding up. You looked back at him with teary eyes. Jonathan kissed you over the duct tape on your mouth. Sounds of skin hitting skin filled the room. You clenched around him frenetically, earning cruel spanks from him. His glacial blue eyes bore into yours. A searing pain managed to reach your cervix as his movements grew careless.  The rope he adorned you in began to scrape painfully against your skin. 

“Want me to stop?” He teased. You nodded frantically. He pulled the tape off your mouth painfully. 

“Please, sir.” You begged innocently, beginning to cry once more. 

“Of course, my love.” He whispered, pulling out. He groaned at the sight of your arousal dripping down your legs. He took out a polaroid camera and snapped some pictures of you from behind. You turned away until he violently flipped you over. He put his middle & index fingers in your mouth. 

“Smile, sweet pea.” He mocked, snapping one final picture. Setting the camera aside, he stared down at you with an esurient gaze. You shifted uncomfortably as you were still tied up. His fingertips grazed the tender burgeon of your nipple. Enjoying the sensation, you pushed your chest up into his hand. You mewled sweetly and batted your eyes. 

“Don’t do that…” Jonathan said, barely holding it together. 

“I can’t help it.” You whined, oblivious to his impending breakdown. He was fuming at the effect you had on him. 

“Right.” Jonathan said, standing up and opening a drawer nearby. He grabbed a burlap mask and held it up for you to see. 

“Remember this, hun?” He inquired, taking off his glasses.

“No, what is it?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows. 

Sliding it over his head, you froze in fear. You realized he was the man of your never-ending nightmares. You suddenly saw hallucinations of maggots and spiders crawling from the eye & mouth holes of his mask. The world around you started to spin nauseatingly. You closed your eyes tightly hoping it would all end quickly.

“I knew you would remember me, angel.” He said, speaking in the same ragged voice. He walked to you and untied the rope around your body. He began spreading your legs once more. You scratched, punched, and bit him to no avail. In actuality, your resistance was much weaker than you thought. The sedative he gave you drained you of any kind of physical strength. 

“Help!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, hoping anyone could hear. Jonathan put a firm hand over your mouth and entered you once more. This time, his pace was sadistic and blistering. The headboard banged against the wall. You felt your bones shake with every motion. You screamed behind his hand until you had no voice to scream with. That familiar band of pleasure in your lower half finally broke. Your body convulsed wildly. He enjoyed seeing you unravel. 

“Almost done, stay still.” He sneered, continuing his assault. Your mind was nearly blank from everything that was happening. Jonathan moved his hand from your mouth to your throat as he was getting close. Your fucked-out expression made his heart flutter. Suddenly, hot spurts of seed shot into you. His groans echoed through the bedroom. You felt some relief that it was over. Instead, he laid next to you and slid back in hastily. He wrapped his arms around you to keep you still. Your shaky hand clawed at them. A doused white cloth smothered you once more as you lost consciousness.

“Sweet dreams.” He whispered, holding you close. 

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim AU: Slow Cooked

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, torture, burns, body horror / gore, isolation, touch starvation, rescue, caretaking

just some whump that wouldn't leave my head. i'm on an AU kick. 2 pieces in a day!! woo!!! also posted a catharsis chapter earlier :D

-

It was day one-thousand one-hundred and thirty-three since they’d left Kane in the sun.

Unlike in his cell, it was easy to count the days out here. Impossible not to, unless he lost count amid the endless pain. He couldn’t see, hadn’t opened his eyes in years, but fire licked at his toes once more, slowly working its way up.

Kane did not scream. The last time he’d screamed, a hunter had wrapped a cord around his throat and threatened to leave it there forever if he made another sound, leaving his lungs perpetually empty. That was day 14.

He had air. As his already burnt-beyond-recognition body lit up once more under the unforgiving heat of the sun, Kane reminded himself he could breathe. It was the only thing he had left.

It hurt. It hurt, hurt, hurt, always. There was no end to it, not even at night, when his wholly maimed form was given far too little time to even start to heal. There was only agony at night and more agony in the day.

He missed his cell. He would do anything to go back to his cell, in the blessed dark.

The morning sun rose enough to reach his face, his entire body once again swallowed as he burned alive.

Please. Please make it stop. Please, somebody help me! I’ll do anything. I just need it to stop. Mercy.

Every day, the same wish, unanswered. Kane was left to his unbearable existence, forgotten.

-

Somebody touched him. It was the first time Kane had been touched in over three years.

It was a light touch, just the graze of what he thought to be a hand to his jawline. Not enough to make it hurt more than it already did. Whoever it was said something, but he couldn’t make it out. Melted flesh had filled his ears for quite some time.

Kane did not move. He didn’t think he was capable of moving, anymore. But he had to do something. Maybe if he did, they’d let him inside, just for a little. Just for a few days. He would do anything to be allowed inside for a few days, even if they tortured him.

Please, I need help, please help me! Make it stop!

A small, raspy whine escaped the back of his throat, muffled further by his sealed-shut lips. It was all he could manage.

The hand retreated.

If Kane was capable of crying, he would. If Kane’s tear ducts hadn’t melted away under the sun years ago, he’d never have stopped.

Please. Please. Somebody. Help me.

His heart cried out, yearning for the touch to return. Even if they never helped, even if they hurt him. He just needed to feel for one moment like he wasn’t alone.

He keened again, a quiet thing, though he tried. Wordless begging to not be left.

The hand returned to his cheek, and he quieted once more. If the agony never stopped, at least he had this. The ability to breathe, and one gentle touch.

Without warning, something pierced his chest, and his cursed consciousness was blissfully lost.

-

Kane did not wake outside.

His arms and legs were no longer spread into the corners of the board, ensuring every vulnerable inch of his front was exposed to the sun. The board no longer touched his back, in fact. Instead, he laid on something soft. The sun did not shine.

Either it was nighttime, or he’d been allowed inside.

It was almost unthinkable that he’d be allowed to rest on something soft and let inside. Surely, it had to be nighttime.

Despite his relative freedom–he could still feel a shackle on one ankle, not silver, but nothing else–he was far too mangled to move around. He simply laid there, trying to bask in the wonder of the soft thing.

“Kane?” a voice asked, hours later. He could hear it, he realized. His ears were cleared.

He knew that voice. That was the human’s voice. Jim’s voice.

The fragile hope that he might be allowed to remain on the soft thing vanished.

“Are you awake?” Jim asked. “I saw you… twitching and stuff.”

He would cry if he could. He was crying, he realized, tears falling down his burnt-up cheeks.

“It’s okay, don’t be scared. I mean, that’s–that’s a tall order, yeah. You’re not going out there again. You’re gonna be okay.”

That gentle hand returned, to his hair this time. There wasn’t much of it left, he was reasonably sure. Jim stroked what was there, his touch feather-light, like he was afraid Kane would break into pieces.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. It’s over,” Jim promised. His voice shook like he might be crying, too.

Kane wanted to believe it so, so badly. It was everything he’d ever wanted, for someone to help. Finally, finally, for the pain to end. It hadn’t even ended yet, his body was a horrific mess of seared skin, but it had been promised. No one had ever promised to help before.

He couldn’t be dreaming. It never hurt this badly in dreams, his only refuge.

“Can you open your mouth?” Jim prompted.

No. He couldn’t. He tried, just to prove it, and…

His lips popped open, revealing a perfectly-preserved, unburnt mouth.

How long had he been out? Days? Had he not been touched by the sun for days?

“You’re doing great,” Jim encouraged. “I know you’re hurting pretty bad right now. So, um, I just…”

“Here, I’ve got it.” A different voice, female, unfamiliar. Before Kane could even worry about who she was, a lid opened with a pop, and the smell of blood filled the air.

Kane did manage more than a whine, then. A desperate howl of need.

The blood poured into his mouth, cold and refreshing and salty and sweet. There was so much of it. He drank and drank and drank until there was no more. He was actually sated for once.

“That’ll help him heal faster?” Jim asked.

“Yeah. Should do the trick.”

“...Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”

Mad? How could he possibly be mad? Jim took him away from the sun. Jim let him inside. Jim gave him blood. He was going to be allowed to heal!

“I think he’ll just be happy to be out of the sun,” the other voiced his thoughts.

There was a creak on the soft think–a bed? A couch?--as someone sat next to him. “Three years ago, the hunters told me they had you,” Jim said.

Three years. That was the end of it, then? Kane had paid his price, he wouldn’t have to do it anymore? It felt too good to be true.

“I told them to kill you,” he continued. “I was scared. I thought you would be like… before. I thought you would come after me. I didn’t know what they were doing, and they told me they’d done it. I thought you were dead. I never wanted you to suffer, not like this.”

Did that mean no more? It was truly over?

“No m-more?” Kane rasped out, his voice struggling to find itself after so long.

“No more.” That gentle touch returned to his hair, and for the first time in years, there was hope.

-

taglist in reblogs

[writingoddess1125]

Just a Quick Headcanon

Zoro as a New Parent

Based of Roronoa Koro a OOC of mine

Story Here <<

Support on Ko-Fi I'm poor!

• When Zoro learns about his son, He is both nervous and pleased to start as a father.

• He had experience with children had been a bit limited in truth but he had babysitted children around this young before so he figured the knowledge would be useful.

• A newborn baby was very different from a fully up and mobile one Zoro realized- but was fortunate to be able to experience this.

• It really wasnt-

• "You support the back of his head gently" You instruct as you watch Zoro awkwardly hold his 4 day old son with both hands. Clearly worried about hurting him or doing something wrong

"He's so small-" He whispered softly as if unsure if his voice could wake the child. It was too adorable.

He watched as Koro yawned softly and rubbed his little face with his little hands and snuggled hack for warmth- you practically saw Zoro's heart melt

• Koro is kuckily a very easy baby, maybe it was him being a newborn or just being Zoro's son but he wasn't a difficult boy.

• He rarely cried or fussed, would eat very well and slept often- Very Often.

• Koro and Zoro have a lot of similarities- but the one most prominent was that sleeping one-

• After a few days Zoro would introduce Koro to his crew with your blessing. You agree to two at a time of course and allowed it-

• Since Koro at this point had his eyes open he was looking around everywhere- Clearly wanting to see what was going on at all times.

• Zoro had Luffy and Chopper meet First. Luffy surprised and shocked to see that his First Mate had a son. You finding it really sweet to see the wonderment in the infamous Captian and a talking reindeer.

• "Woah! He looks just like you" Luffy says almost in shock as he holds Koro- The newborn staring confused at the smiling man

•Chopper also holding Koro and giggling excitedly as well as starting to tear up. "H-He's so cute!" Chopper said now fully crying while holding Koro who's bottom lip was starting to quiver as well.

• After this it went Nami and Usopp- Nami of course voicing how weird it was Zoro had a kid while Usopp promoted himself to the baby his status and making up stories to entertain. Koro however seemed to not be amused by any of them.

• Koro was starting to get irritated by being held when Robin and Franky came in. He did not like the cold hands of the robot and just stared at Zoro when Robin held him- Zoro already able to read his sons face which clearly said 'Make them leave me the hell alone-'

• And last was Sanji- Zoro was of course snide and rude to Sanji who happily returned the favor before letting the man hold his son. Much to your surprise however Koro seemed to just be staring hard at Sanji

• "Why is he looking at me that way?" Sanji questioned as Zoro scoffed-

"Cause he's a baby wai-" He sported as he heard a noise- you all did and everyone stared at Koro who was making a series of different cooing noises and squirming around as he stared at Sanji. He didn't seemed distressed at all only curious as he continued his gurgles and coos.

• "...I hate you-" Zoro said as he looked right at a very cocky Sanji, clearly Koro liking Sanji quite a bit.

• After this Zoro stayed in your village for a few weeks, letting his crew go ahead and come back for him later.

• With this Zoro takes time to help you raise your guys son. Allowing time for you to sleep inbetween feedings- helping with diapers and also helping you post partum.

• Truthfully he had been a God-Sent.. Calling doctors for you and talking you through your depressions and anxiety-

• The moment that damn near made you want to kiss him in joy was when he found out you had a clogged milk duct and he came in with a warm container of water with some Epsom salt.

• "You're a life saver-" You say when you see the container- Even though this should hurt your pride your tit hurt way worse-

• Zoro would stay by Koros side fir hours, Holding him and playing with the newborn. However does freak the fuck out when the embelical cord fell off.

• "It just falls off!?" He yells when he sees you set it to the side.

• Zoro adores his son and treats him as the most precious being on earth-

• It couldn't make you happier

Bonus!-

• Zoro will send a letter and a photo of his son to Mihawk. Truthfully he found what he did impulsive and didn't know why he did such a thing-

• When Mihawk gets the letter of the arrival of the new Roronoa he feels both surprised and a sense of pride. Keeping both and even showing Perona who squeals and jumps at seeing the cute baby.

• In less then a week a large crate filled with very expensive baby items arrives along with some stuffed toys that creep the hell out of you.

• The legendary Mihawk will even arrive himself to meet Koro- Zoro surprised that his teacher came and you terrified that a former Warlord was holding your son-

• Mihawk stares at Koro, holding the baby like an expert and silently staring. Koro doing the exact same and even scrunching his eyebrows as if mildly irritated that Mihawk was looking at him that way.

• The Warlord cracks a smile at this and nods in approval. Koro reaching for the Cross necklace to try and chew on which Mihawk easily slips away from the baby. "When you are older-" He stated calmly.

• "You have a strong son, I can see he will grow into someone great" Mihawk says calmly.

• "Sensei... I wanted to name you Godfather of my Son" Zoro said calmly, Mihawk looking surprised by this but nods non the less.

• "I will accept" He stated calmly and smiled softly at the boy. Clearly pleased to have a god-grandson to spoil.

[saturnville]

on the frontline, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (major lanessa "nessa" dixon) content: in an unlikely event, john meets another major during the war, but she isn't what he expects. warnings: medical inaccuracies. an: Nessa is inspired by major della raney jackson, first black major of the army nurse corps. tag list: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste

The mess hall bustled with deep voices and the screeching of rubber soles against the dirty floor. The sun shone through the dusty windows and onto the leather-covered backs of the soldiers. An aroma of breakfast filled the atmosphere and wrapped its arms around them like a warm hug. The chefs made a large meal before missions. It was the last meal some men had to cherish. 

At a long table sat 13 men; two majors, two captains, a lieutenant, and eight sergeants. The conversations were minimal, until a sergeant spoke, “Have you met the new nurse?” He whistled he guzzled down a hefty bowl of oatmeal. He grunted after swallowing the hot oats and slurped down the black coffee beside his arm. “She’s a beauty!”

There was a discourse among the men who tried to figure out when they’d see the newly hired nurses. The wages of war came at a high price. Death and injury seemed to be a suitable payment to the creditor. To combat that, the service brought on extra hands to give medical assistance to the troops, especially with more men being enlisted to serve. Hundreds of thousands of men prepared to put their lives on the line; the least they could have was efficient medical care. 

“They all are,” another commented. “50 more nurses and half of ‘em are Black. Came in with them Tuskegee Airmen. Never seen anything like it.” 

As the pilots bantered about the new nurses, Major John Egan kept his gaze fixed on his coffee, his mind elsewhere. The arrival of more nurses was a reminder of the harsh realities of war, the constant influx of fresh faces tasked with patching up the broken bodies that returned from the front lines. Dread settled deep in his stomach at the thought of encountering them under such circumstances. With a curt nod, he urged his comrades to focus on the day ahead. Meanwhile, the chatter of the mess hall continued, blending with the clinking of utensils and the low hum of conversations.

“Haven’t seen them,” he spoke from behind the rim of his coffee. “Hoping I never have to. Let’s get going, boys.”  “Yes, sir.” 

-

“Major Egan’s hit!” For a moment, there was silence. Then, it wound up again when the wounded leader crossed the threshold into the infirmary.

The infirmary was chaotic. Loud cries and deep groans filled the air. Trays and metal utensils kissed one another as they were tossed on carts filled with supplies. White coats here and there sifted throughout the room as green bodies wheeled more patients into the large room. 

His breathing was ragged and heavy. With blurred vision caused by tears surfacing in the ducts on his eyes, it was difficult to navigate the infirmary without bumping into objects and solid bodies. His feet were heavy as he stumbled further into the infirmary. 

"I got you, Bucky," Gale's voice was frantic as he hoisted the pilot on his body. "You're gonna be alright, y'hear me?" If he had the strength, he would have replied. His heartbeat was in his ears and his stomach was in his throat. He'd never been shot before. Would this be the end of his career as a pilot? He groaned in agony. 

"I need a nurse!" Gale hollered, his husk voice reverberating off the walls. "He's been shot. Bullet is still in his shoulder."

In front of him appeared a nurse. A highly ranked nurse, at that. She was dressed differently than the others. There was no matching white skirt set with a pretty hat, no, she was dressed just like him. Dark leather jacket, heavy pants, and dark boots. On her chest was a multitude of badges and pins, including one that was similar to the one on Gale's chest. Major. Well, he'd be damned.

She didn't stay in his sight long, as she began giving orders to two other nurses, who were preparing a bed. She ushered her patient to another nurse and wrapped her black stethoscope around her neck. Around her wrist was a small hair-tie which she used to pull her curls into a makeshift bun. With a thunderous voice, she ordered, “Bessie, get him on a stretcher and bring him to me.”

A fellow nurse, Bessie assisted Gale in getting John on a stretcher. Gale stood behind the ladies, the tip of his thumb against his teeth. As the stretcher was rolled toward her station, she made a quick work of the gloves and ordered him to stay calm. “I’m gonna cut your shirt, okay? I need you to remove your hand so I can take a look. Take deep breaths for me.”

Beads of sweat trailed down John's forehead as he gritted his teeth. His nostrils flared and his jaw shook as he tried to keep his sounds to a minimum. The nurse above him chuckled, which caught his attention. "What's funny?" He managed to ask. 

She pushed his stubborn hand to the side and used her scissors to split his shirt in half. She was unfazed as blood trickled out of the open wound. It was ugly, but she knew how to make ugly beautiful. The wound was a wicked one, but it was a clean shot that managed to miss the muscle. It would be an easy retrieval. 

"No reason to play big man and conceal your pain here, Major. You got shot. The shit hurts. You can let it hurt here." She pressed her stethoscope against his chest. Heartbeat still strong, she noted. Wavering just slightly, but strong. She called for extra hands. "Administer the shot into the upper right shoulder."

John's eyes were on her as she worked. Her brown eyes were gentle and they remained on him as she poked, but her tone was stern as she said, "Major Cleven, if you'd like to stay, you must stay behind that line. Major Egan, you just received a numbing agent to reduce the sensation. The bullet is retrievable. If you feel anything unbearable,  you let me know. I'll stitch you up good as new afterword, am I clear?" 

John’s stomach twisted at her authority. His tongue scraped across the roof of his mouth as he nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"Wonderful. Scalpel, please." 

-

"How is he?" Gale's voice was unclear. He felt groggy. His head was a boulder on his shoulders and he felt confined to the small, yet comfortable bed he laid in. 

"He'll be just fine, Major. He took it like a champ. He'll be out of commission for six to twelve weeks and will be ordered to physical therapy upon return to base. Don't give me that look, now; he is not fit for battle right now, but he will be okay, I can reassure you that. My nurses and I will take good care of him just like we will everyone else."

John heard Gale's sigh of worry. "Okay, you're right. Thank you, Major..." 

She chuckled lightly. "Nessa Dixon." 

"Major Dixon. Thank you for all you've done." 

"No problem at all. You come to me tomorrow if that wrist is still giving you problems and I’ll wrap it again for you, okay? Get some rest, you'll need it." They exchanged goodbyes and the sound of Gale's footsteps retreating became clear. Finally, John's heavy eyelids peeled open. 

"Nice to see you again," she spoke after some time. She was leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into her pockets. and her stethoscope dangling from her neck. "How are you feeling?" She made her way toward him, sitting on the stool she set at the bedside. 

John groaned as he tried to readjust. His shoulder was wrapped tightly. He couldn't move even if he tried. Amelia jumped up and propped a pillow up. "Easy now..."

"Thank you," he replied gruffly. "I'm sore. Tired. And I need a damn drink." 

His response pulled a laugh from her. Not the small chuckle she'd release here and there, no, a hearty laugh. It made him smile. "You and me both. Let's get you up and moving first. Your procedure went well. You are to stay out of combat for--"

"Six to twelve weeks with physical therapy upon return to base," he repeated her words, clearly unamused. Nessa smiled, clearly amused. 

"Good to know you listen," she replied.

John hummed. "I do, Major. Didn't know that was a thing for nurses." He hated to seem painfully ignorant, but it’s what he was at that moment. Nurses in his unit rarely received titles, unless they’d done something extraordinary or had been in service for an extended period. But she, she looked young. Like she couldn’t be much older than he was.

Nessa nodded. She was one of the first Black nurses accepted into the Army Nurse Corps after they began accepting Black women. She worked her way up the chain, she explained, earning the same prestigious he carried. On the same level as a white man whose life was in her hands. Who would've guessed? 

"Nessa is just fine right now," she suggested. "I should let you rest. I'll do one more check before I head out. Major Cleven will be here in the morning, I'm sure. Do you need anything, Major?"

"John," he said gently, tired blue eyes gazing into hers. "And I'm okay. Thank you for everything." 

She gave one nod before leaving him alone and releasing the breath she wasn't aware she held.

-

“Nessa.” The woman sighed heavily and dropped her clipboard against the makeshift desk. Silence wasn’t a thing during war. Constant movement, moaning and groaning, the calling of her name. All she wanted was a moment of silence. It was nonexistent.

“Yes?” She didn’t turn around. But, she recognized the voice. Deep. Full of rasp. The way he said her name. It was familiar. Her eyes dropped to her clipboard, scattered with notes and reports that needed to be sent to the leader physicians. 

“Why are you awake? I thought you were leaving.” 

Her eyes dropped to the watch on her wrist. 1:43am. She’d been up for almost 24 hours. She shrugged and picked up her pen to scribble on the paper more. “I can ask you the same thing, Major. You’re supposed to be sleeping. Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

Finally, Nessa turned around. She regretted it. John Egan was a handsome man. She knew that, but she was too focused on ensuring he didn’t lose his arm to focus on his features. But in this moment, in the dimly lit infirmary with no one else present, she had every opportunity to do so. And, she regretted it. 

He was tall. Much taller than she was. She assumed her head would be at his shoulder, still leaving inches of distance between them. Though his face was littered with scrapes and healing scars, it seemed to illuminate his beauty. His eyes were blue, a strong contrast against his dark, curly hair. A strong nose and straight lips that she was sure felt amazing. His upper lip was cut in the corner and dried blood remained. He must’ve begun anxiously picking at it.

He managed to change his clothes. Major Cleven must have had something to do with that. He was dressed in dark sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She was curious as to how he got his arm through the sleeve, but she’d heckle him about it later in the day. His curls were damp and tousled messily. God, he was beautiful. Bruised and all. 

He chuckled and slowly sat in the chair opposite of her. He groaned softly and readjusted himself to come into a comfortable position. “I can ask you the same question.”

She shrugged, “I’ve got paperwork to do. Go to bed, John. You can’t heal if you don’t rest.” 

“You gonna tuck me in?” John’s tone was teasing. Nessa’s eyebrows raised and the pilot threw his head back as he laughed heartily. It was the first time he laughed with passion in a while, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile as well. 

“You’re in a good mood. Let’s go. You’re going to bed and I’m going to sleep in the infirmary just in case..” She pushed up from her chair and tucked her documents into a folder. She nodded toward the door and the pilot followed suit. 

They walked side by side in silence back to the infirmary, which was near the resting area for the injured who didn’t make it back to their chambers. Luckily, everyone had. Nessa’s eyebrows raised as John lay on the same bed he was on earlier. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m your just in case,” he said simply. He laid his head against the pillow and watched as she stood still. Nessa swallowed thickly. It took her brain extra effort to tell her feet to move. She sat on the edge of the bed to pull her heavy boots off her feet. She sighed in relief. 

Nessa swung her feet on the bed and allowed her body to mold into the comfortable mattress. Her eyelids felt heavy, but still, she found his gaze. “Goodnight, John.” 

“Goodnight, Nessa.” 

Though they did not say anything to one another after that, she found comfort in the silence. They found solace in the quiet of the infirmary that kept them through the rest of the night. Together.

[captainsbaby]

A wet cat.

That’s what you said he looked like. The up-and-coming villain known as Dabi would have burnt you. If he could’ve, of course.

The burnt skin on his wrists had rolled up like sleeves. It detached itself from its fastening staples, revealing flesh. The purple skin on his side had split open. Some sections of tissue were charred black, while others were pink and bloody. Bleeding.

His blood, the only reminder he had that his heart was still beating inside his ribcage. Red as anyone else’s, and still flowing though his limbs.

It was also as red as his father’s hair. As red as his own hair had been.

Seeing the red of his own blood evoked a strange flurry of emotions that he had no desire to detangle. As long as he kept ahold of his rage he could keep going.

Unless he dies of blood loss before he can achieve his goal, of course.

Which is why, when you walk up calling him a wet cat and offer your hand, he accepts it.

Your apartment isn’t far, but with Dabi’s injuries it takes four times as long as it should have. Blood droplets litter the ground, pooled in the spots his gate paused.

You sit him down on the closed toilet lid, bandaging his arms and torso with practiced ease. You’re not acting how he expected. Dabi is used to people being afraid of him. He knows that the grotesqueness of his stolen skin is the first thing people notice about him. He knows that people don’t want to be around him. Even the other small-time villains he runs into recoil when they get close. Dabi, after one-too-many encounters marred by his skin, stopped letting anyone get close to him.

He hadn’t been emotionally close to another since he was a child, but now he avoided physical proximity too. He had been lonely since he died, the emptiness only getting worse as he got older.

Which is why when you touched him with your gentle, healing hands, he would have cried had his tear ducts not been fused shut by his own flames.

He takes a moment to slow his racing heart before asking you the question that had been bubbling in his head since you first spoke to him.

“Couldn’t you compare me to anything else?”

At his question, you pause before looking him dead in the eyes for the first time since you extended your hand to the stranger.

“Nope!” you sang, before closing the medicine cabinet and walking through the bathroom doorway, leaving the mildly offended villain staring at your back.

Written by @/CaptainsBaby on Tumblr in 2024 <3

I do not consent to my writing being republished in any way without my express written permission.

[vampire-matcha]

Part 3 of Cheating!Soap I hope yall are ready to hurt

Hurt/barely comfort if you squint. Soap and reader are both a little (a lot) pathetic.

Johnny didn't move a muscle on the couch. He sat until he was sure you had cried yourself to sleep. He listened as your weeping got more and more subdued, as your heartache wore you down until he could no longer hear your gasps for air. He figures you must have wept yourself to exhaustion. That is, until he hears the bedroom door creak open. He listens to your bare feet pad down the hardwood hallway until the sound is muted by the living room carpet.

Johnny lifts his head from his hands to see you standing there at the other end of the couch. He's never seen you look so weak. So defeated. He did that to you. Your head hangs low and your shoulders are slumped forward; your eyes are dull and your hands hang limp at your sides.

He drops his head again, unable to face what his actions have done to you. You, his angel, his perfect wife. Always patient, always brave, always waiting for him to come home safe. He can't look at you now. He feels the seat beside him sink with your weight. The silence drags on for far too long. When you finally speak, your voice is proven, as if he had personally smashed your throat beneath his foot. He might as well have.

"If this is you..." You pause, searching for the right words. You start again. "If this is you trying to... to figure something out..." You trail off. Your mind isn't all there right now, it melted out through your tear ducts. "If this is you... experimenting..." You take a shaky breath. "Then we can work on this."

He slowly turns his head toward you, eyebrows pinched in confusion. You should be asking for a divorce. You should be telling him to get his filthy ass out. And yet, here you are extending an olive branch. It shouldn't be you. He's the guilty party. He should be groveling at your feet for forgiveness, and you should be denying him.

Your ring still gleams on your finger.

Johnny shakes his head. You've got it all wrong. You're giving him too much compassion. Giving him the benefit of the doubt. It's all wrong. But he can't get the right words out either. All he manages is a shake of his head.

"That's not..." he chokes out. His chest feels like it's encased in iron. Your face crumples again. That awful, anguished look that he had never seen before this night. You make a small, pathetic noise in the back of your throat, trying desperately to hold onto your threadbare composure.

"Then why, Johnny?" You croak out, sounding like you have his fist wrapped around your neck. That would hurt less than this. You gasp for air. "Why did you do this to us?" Us! His poor darling, still thinking of you two as a unit. Can't you see he's ruined it? Why aren't you screaming at him?

"I was scared," he answers. You look at him with great worry in your eyes, now.

"Did he... did he force you?" Oh, there you are again, caring too much for this wretched man before you, giving him compassion he does not deserve. He's quick to deny it. He won't give himself such an easy out. He deserves the shame of the truth.

"No- no! He didn't- we-" he's scrambling for an explanation that won't shatter you completely. You're already fragile and broken. The details will only grind you to bits, won't they? But your looking at him like that, like you won't stop until you know why.

"We were pinned. Communications were dark. There was no way out, and were were in that house for so damn long, I... I didn't think I was coming home." He wants you to snap at him. He wants you to scream at him. That's what you did before you thought you would die? Your last act was to betray your wife? But that's not at all what you do. You're quiet again. Subdued, drowning again in that pretty head of yours.

"Do you love him?" You whisper, the sound made of glass. You barely contain a sob as you stare down at your toes. The answer comes easily to him.

"No." You squeeze your eyes tight, like you don't believe him.

"If it's just sex, I- then I c-can live with it but-" your breath is escaping you as you chase after it to keep it in your lungs. You're losing the race. "But please tell me you don't love him!" And you break again. You wrap your arms around yourself and dig your nails into your arms. You're hurting yourself when you should be hurting him. Tearing him up, throwing him out like the garbage he is. He can't stand the sight of it. He moves.

"I don't! I don't love him!" He rushes out as his hands snap to yours to prevent you from raking harsh lines into yourself. He finally touches you, finally, and it's like cool water on a summer's day. You fall into him, and he wraps you up.

"I can't take it if you love him!" you wail, eyes and nose and mouth all wet. "Please!" He holds you tighter, pulls you onto his lap, tucks your head under his chin, cradles you like an infant.

"I promise," he says right into your ear. He needs to make sure you hear it. "It's you. It's only you. I love you. I love you. I love you." He utters it like a prayer. Breathes it out like a confessional. Utters it only for your holy ears to hear. You cling to him like a raft in a storm. Your nails dig into his chest. Finally, he can pay for his sins. Penance through pain. He hopes you break the skin. A blood sacrifice to the goddess in his arms.

"Please don't leave me," you mumble. It's a pitiful plea. He hates himself for knocking you down so low. Why are you begging him? Don't you know it should be him instead? He holds you impossibly closer, almost afraid to crush you.

"Never. Never." You draw back suddenly, both hands holding his face. There's a firey desperation in your eyes. He feels the metal of your ring pressing into his cheekbone.

"Swear to me." Your wild eyes dart back and forth between his.

"I swear-"

"Whatever you do out there- whatever you have to do to make it through- to make it home-" your words come out rushed between panicked breaths. You grimace and shake your head, unable to finish the thought. "Whatever you do, you come home to me. Me. Your wife."

"My wife," he repeats and nods.

"Swear it!"

"I swear!" And then you kiss him. It's wet and clumsy and shaky. Your lips taste like stomach acid but he can't find it in himself to care. He'll do anything you want if only to lessen your pain.

"We made a vow, John MacTavish," you whisper, lips trembling against his. Your fingernails dig into his shaved scalp. Good. "You are mine."

"I'm yours. I'm yours." You press your forehead against his.

"Now take your wife to bed."

---

Part 4

[vixen7243]

Undivided Attention: Like a Dream

TF141 X AFAB!Reader

Masterlist | Snake in the Garden | Team Bonding

Tag list 🖤: @jenniferpendragon @amyg1509

CW: Some gruesome moment of pain (?)

Waking up to arms being wrapped tightly around you and snoring, drowning out the faint whisper of hushed tones you huffed slowly stretching your limbs and carefully turning so as to have a little more room. Lifting your head you looked down the length of the bed and saw Johnny and Simon re-removing their shirts before looking at you, Johnny giving you his cheeky smile, “Hey there bonnie.”

“Hi.” Your voice was hoarse and scratchy from sleep as you started sitting up twitching slightly at the strain on your back, “God.”

“Need a hand luv?” Reaching out and grabbing onto Simon’s outstretched hand you let him tug you up and to the foot of the bed. His other hand grabbing onto your waist to steady you as you gasped looking down at your thighs.

“Jesus.” Both men looked down, the sight of their mixed cum from the night now on your thighs, your bed still wet from you cumming had you blushing. “Don’t look.” Trying to use your free hand to cover yourself you stumbled off the bed till Johnny made his way to your side.

“No need to be embarrassed, Bonnie, only natural.” If he didn’t have such a charming smile and the look in his eyes didn’t make your knees weak and want to redo last night you’d push his face rolling your eyes.

“Why couldn’t you guys at least wipe me down?”

“Cause now we can share a shower.” Trying to not smile at Simon you walked into your bathroom, looking at your shower you were a little nervous on how this was even going to work, your shower was barely big enough to fit two people let alone two big ass guys and yourself. As you turned on the water and made sure it got to the perfect temperature Johnny and Simon stripped down before Johnny turned you around shocking you and picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, they squeezed in and Simon got to working lathering your washcloth with soap before washing your back, neck, arms, peeling them from around Johnny’s shoulders then your cunt. You were otherwise preoccupied with Johnny, who had connected his lips with yours kissing you tenderly and sweetly, his hands gripping your ass. He groaned as he could feel Simon’s hand in the washcloth bumping his cock and your hips moving whenever the cloth would graze your clit. 

As Simon hooked his arms under your knees Johnny guided you to lean back into Simon’s chest as he then took the washcloth from Simon and wiped down your legs and front as Simon held you and kissed along your neck and shoulders humming against your skin. 

As the three of you enjoyed a slow shower, tender touches, sweet kisses and lingering glances, John and Kyle went to their rooms to shower quickly after reading the note that Simon left on the desk for them. Meeting up together in the rec room they went to an abandoned training building on the edge of the base, “How the hell did she even get into our barracks?”

“Someone must have forgotten to lock the doors, we also weren’t really planning to take the route that we did.” John said, closing the doors behind himself and Kyle, “But thankfully our girl is more than understanding and loving enough to listen to us and give us a chance.” Eyes hardening as he glanced at the tied up and duct taped Angie, she looked frantically between the two men, tears cascading down her cheeks, one black eye, nose bleeding, and a knife stuck in her thigh.

“Wouldn’t have had the mess if this slag listened in the first place.” Her muffled whining as she tried to thrash and shake her head, “What?”

Ripping the tape from her mouth, she cried out before huffing, “Please, I won’t say anything just let me go! I don’t deserve this! I didn’t do anything!!”

“You made our girl question her standing with us. Made her question our love and loyalty to her. You overstepped time and time again with us when we’ve always told you not to touch us and to respect our boundaries. You’ve made shitty jabs and comments about her. Because of you, we almost lost her.” John leaned close to her face as she looked horrified back at him, “You deserve everything that’s coming your way and then some.”

“Bonnie said she was going to be busy in the clinic for a bit but she’ll meet up with us at the jeeps so we can get lunch later.” Johnny and Simon walked in, Simon glaring at Angie who screamed at the top of her lungs when she saw the door open, hoping, praying that someone heard her.

A loud slap shut her up as John used every ounce of his strength to strike his hand across her cheek when she screamed. “We can’t be too long, we still will have to dispose of her and you’ll need to write up that she’d gone AWOL.” Simon said, arms crossed tightly over his chest as she looked shocked at all of them.

“You’re seriously going to kill me because of her?” New tears started falling as everything was settling in that she was truly going to die. “Why can’t you just transfer me? I swear I won’t tell anyone what you guys ha- AAAAAAAAH!” Johnny had twisted the knife that was in her leg before ripping it out of her leg at an angle widening the slit before stabbing her knee and twisting, digging in and through.

John grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked back, she looked up at him, fear imprinted into her features, “If you were even close to lucky enough for us to consider of transferring you we know your loud mouth would spill everything before you even settling in where you would get dumped off at.”

“No point in us wasting our time tracking you down and finishing what we’ve started at a later date.” Kyle said, voice flat and void, uncharacteristically. 

—-- 

You happily sat between Kyle and Johnny, fingers laced with Kyle as his thumb ran over your knuckles looking at him smiling sweetly as he kissed your hand. Lunch was bliss as Kyle sat by you the whole time trying to keep all your attention on him using his charm to his full ability feeling proud whenever you would blush and try to hide your face in Simon’s shoulder. The day ended on a wonderful note, due to mostly that you did see even a glance of Angie all day. As the days went by, you grew more and more comfortable with them all again, everything going back to how they once were. 

John even let you come on missions again, of course you were to be glued to someone's side at all times and you didn’t fight on it, following orders to the letter pride and happiness making you shine when John would praise you for doing as you were told. They also dedicated every Sunday to you, all attention was on you, they catered to your every wish and command, praise and love poured into you the moment you wake up till the moment you fall asleep. Of course if for any reason during the week that they picked up on something being wrong with you they dropped everything to listen and take care of you. They always checked in with you before you had a chance to check in with them. You all even talked about your relationship when at home, the one that was mostly farther than the rest was Johnny, but you all agreed that after your next deployment depending on how things went with your comfortability this time home they were looking for a home that was big enough for all of them to live together.

Of course everything went smoothly and a month before they were due to go home they all were looking up houses, Johnny did ask if they could find something close enough to his family which everyone was fine with. In no time they bought a house, listed it under your name and everything else, the guys refused to let you use a dime in purchasing the place and claimed they were going to give you everything you need and let your money be for spoiling yourself instead. Meeting Johnny’s family was nerve wracking but they accepted you instantly and didn’t question the broad relationship you had with everyone and were just happy that Johnny was happy and that you loved him. Kyle’s family was invited to visit you guys to meet you due to the fact that they were more spread out and weren’t local like Johnny’s family and they also embraced you and the guys. John’s family was more questionable on the relationship but John had your back through and through when they would try to poke and prod you, whispering behind your back. Through every family meeting, Simon stuck close to you like he was your shadow, his hand always somewhere on you, he had told you long ago of his lack of family and you knew it was hard on him. You always leaned close into him when his fingers would tighten into you a little more when things would get to be a little much for him. He felt his heart swell every time you would check in with him, asking if he was okay, needed a break, fresh air, or if he would want to go home or send everyone away.

When you got pregnant you didn’t hesitate to put in for early retirement which John understood and gratefully signed. You all lived out your days happily, building your own family, living your dream life, after another 3 years John retired relishing in being a father, Johnny and Kyle retired around the same time finding little jobs in town to keep themselves busy. Simon stayed enlisted the longest, until he came home early one night, phone a few weeks prior broken and unable to stay in contact heard you bawling your eyes out, the guys trying to comfort you and reassure you that he should be okay. His heart shattered when you voiced your worries that he could be dead and no one was telling them anything, that his daughter won’t have her father. Walking in and holding you that night he decided enough was enough and that you guys needed him more and that you all were enough for him to stay home.

All in all, you never stopped doting on your men, even when your kids were born, you learned early on that you had more than enough love and heart to give, and what you felt you lacked, the guys always reassured and filled for you. They never stopped their tradition of Sunday’s being about you, teaching their sons and daughters it as well, you never again felt unappreciated, they always took the best care of you and life became like a dream.

----

Yaaay! Pretty. Happy. Sweet. Loving. Just right. Hope ya'll enjoyed.

[melodygatesauthor]

Steven Grant - Yandere Edition - Random Horny Thots #1 - Claiming

NSFW - NON-CON WARNING - Virgin Reader

——

Steven's been watching you for a long time, so imagine his excitement when he finally has you tied up, wrists stuck to the headboard and your mouth wrapped in duct tape. You're crying so hard while he's pressing himself against your tight and never broken entrance. He's prodding gently, feeling the resistance of your hole. His eyes are crazed with excitement. A trickle of drool is spilling down his chin.

"Oh love, no one's been in here before have they?" His face turned into an affectionate smile, "you've been savin' y'self just f'me? Darling, that makes me feel so special."

You're crying, and internally begging him to let you go, but he doesn't seem to care...or maybe he likes it.

He has the fat, bulbous tip of his cock in here. He can feel it stretch a little, and your screams get a little louder. He bites his lip, trying to contain his excitement. He pushes forward, feeling the way your tight hole gives out and tears around him. You shriek again, sobs getting heavier as you struggle.

"Now, now love. You're alright, shhhh," he grabs your hips tightly and leans in, kissing your tearstained cheeks.

Steven's enjoying it so much, listening to your little cries, but even more than that he enjoys the way your blood is painting his cock when he looks down at where your bodies are joined. He’s surprised at how wide he’s split you open, seeing your little pussy lips gripping around his cock so tightly. It’s almost too tight, but it feels so fucking good. You cry again; fresh sobs falling down your cheeks and soaking the pillow under your head.

“S’alright love, I know…” He leans forward, reaching his arms around your back and pulling you close, kissing just below your earlobe softly. “I’m happy too, so happy that you’ve given this to me. What a gift you are.”

He shudders, feeling such a sense of pride for being the only man to have you, and the only man to make you sound like this. You were crying tears of joy, he knew it had to be true. The noises were too good to be anything else. Of course you were a little pained, but it would feel better soon. You were meant to take him, it had to feel good.

He leaned back, lifting the backs of your legs and pushing your knees up by your head. He could see you all spread out now. He could watch your cunt swallowing around him. He could see the blood all over his length. He could hear you screaming louder in this new position, this tighter position.

“That’s it love, feels good dunnit? Yeah, bet it does. You like a bit of pain don’t you?”

All he can hear other than your muffled cries is the wetness between both of your bodies. Your cunt and his cock are drenched in fluids; a cocktail made up of your arousal, blood, and his precum, which you were certain he had a steady stream of since he started his assault.

When Steven comes, it’s messy, and he’s squeezing you so hard you think you might suffocate. His body is shaking, breath huffing out in sharp, short gusts, and he’s telling you how lucky you are to have someone like him giving you his all. No one else will ever love you like he can, and no one else will ever care for you the way he does.

“There love…” he says, wiping away your tears, “now you’re all mine. Molded your little cunt to fit around me perfectly.”

And with that, you belong to him, forever and always…

——

Any of my blurbs can be used as inspo for a fic. Please tag me for credit. Thank you!

Random Blurbs Masterlist

[half-oz-eddie]

The first time Billy cries in front of Steve, he's pissed. Pissed he let himself be so weak, pissed he let the tears fall from his eyes.

He was so good at hiding it from everyone else. But Steve fucking Harrington had to come into his life, invade his heart and weaken him into a blubbering mess during his most vulnerable moments.

"What's wrong babe?" Steve would try to reach out, only to be aggressively and angrily pushed away.

"Get away from me, Steve." His words felt like a snake bite to Steve's heart. They'd worked so hard to come this far, why would he be so cruel now?

"I'm sorry, I—did I do something? Are you mad at me?"

"No!" He'd raise his voice. A volume that would make Steve flinch.

Steve would deflate, and withdraw, but not leave. He knows something's wrong with Billy, and he's so deep in love with him that he knows he's gotta be more understanding. Billy's never cried in front of him, and yet, he won't let him do a damn thing for him.

"You wanna hear a funny story?" Steve would change the subject.

"What?" Billy would sniffle.

"So I tried to pull a prank on Mr. Clarke, the middle school science teacher? And I thought it would be funny to duct tape his car."

Stupid Steve would laugh before he even finished the story, and Billy thought that was so amusing, he was already laughing along.

"It was super dark, and I'm going around the car with the duct tape thinking 'yeah, this is gonna be so funny' and it turns out, it wasn't even Mr. Clarke's car."

"Whose car was it?"

"My dad's. Apparently he was an old friend of Mr. Clarke's. I was in so much trouble that night." Steve chuckles.

"Jesus, you're such a dumbass." Billy laughs.

"Yeah. Yeah I am."

The room became silent. Steve reaches for Billy's hand when he hears another sniffle.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I just want you to know that I'm here."

Billy leans against Steve as their fingers intertwine.

“I know.” And they simply leave it at that.

[thesakuragarnet]

fixation, psychosis, or a secret third thing (love)

Summary: Dabi used to feel so much, but, ever since his accident, he hasn’t felt a damn thing. Not genuinely anyway. Not physically. His nerves are fried. His organs barely work. It’ll be a miracle if Hawks will be able to make him feel anything…

OR

Dabi ends up falling for a hero…Hawks ends up regretting everything.

DabiHawksWeek 2024: Prompt Seven: Songfic

Inspired by: Far Too Young To Die by Panic! At The Disco

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! TAGS BENEATH THE KEEP READING SECTION

Word Count: 5,647 words

AO3 link

Tags: DabiHawks, songfic, angst, smvt, Dabi-typical body h0rror, vom!ting, a little big of canon divergence, doomed relationship, DabiHawksWeek2024, DHWeekNSFW24, swearing, s3xual content, bratty b0ttom Dabi, top Hawks, making out, a n a l f!ngering, gay s3x, a n a l s3x, Dabi cries blood, identity reveal on a first name basis, implied past prostitution, Dabi can't feel pain (or anything on the outside but the inside is fair game), Hawks is a master manipulator but it's not his fault bc the HPSC brainwashed him, Dabi has his manga body type, seduction, trust issues, accidental branding

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

Dabi stands at the harbor under the moonlight, pressing the pads of his fingers into the scars under his eyelids, blood wetting his fingertips as he tries to stop the bleeding. There are a handful of reasons why he’s crying…well…as much as Dabi is able to cry. Whenever he gets worked up, blood simply leaks from his fucked up tear ducts, threatening to burst the staples and welling up into his eyes until all he can see is crimson. It should be painful…but Dabi hasn’t felt anything in years. Dabi used to feel so much, but, ever since his accident, he hasn’t felt a damn thing. Not genuinely anyway. Not physically. His nerves are fried. His organs barely work. The only thing that still seems to be unwavering is his mind and his heart, ironically, considering the world believes him to be an insane, unfeeling killer. Admittedly, he does believe he’s gone insane, plagued with nightmares of his victim’s families…of what might’ve happened if he stayed in that hospital when he woke up from a coma…of what happened on the mountain that fateful night. Dabi barely slept at all anymore, scared of what might be waiting for him when he slipped into unconsciousness. It was only when his body forcibly shut down…or when he felt himself forcibly shutting down that he would sleep…if you could even call it sleeping. Lately though, his nightmares have changed. Lately, they’ve been filled with a certain pair of red wings…and they might not even be classified as nightmares anymore.

Dabi was, laughably, down bad for quite possibly the first time ever in his life. This meeting in particular had proved it. The rush he got from Hawks pulling the feather blade on him…pressing it neatly against his throat in a way that made Dabi’s skin crawl deliciously. It was a miracle he had kept his cool at all, simply putting up the uncaring front he’d crafted over the years. He found his mask slipping ever so slightly, the flirtatious tone in his voice painfully apparent when he nonchalantly pushed away the sword. He could see it in Hawks’ eyes…something wavered. That airtight hero persona flickered into nothingness for less than a moment. Was it reciprocation? Disgust? Confusion? Dabi didn’t know. He’d learned to not use the word hope anymore, so he couldn’t decide exactly what he thought about it. 

It’s part of the reason why he’s crying. It’s that he feels like…if it is…if it is that word he refuses to think…then he doesn’t deserve it. Besides, what if Hawks really is a scummy double agent, and it would all be for nothing. His paranoia pounds against his skull, wrestling intimately with his heart. Why would Hawks ever be interested in him ? His face looks disgusting. There’s the threat that he’ll burst into flames and kill them both if he gets too worked up. He doesn’t even have any education past middle school. Hawks, on the other hand, has been trained by the Commission for roughly seventy percent of his life up to this point, getting the best education, the best clothes, the best doctors…the best…everything. Dabi hasn’t had a proper checkup in…who knows how long. He knew he was clean and that was enough. The only doctor he could really go to was Ujiko…and he’d rather just die than ask him for anything…not after what he almost did. 

Truly…he feels pathetic. He’s never been good enough for anyone…not for his family…not for himself…not for this rotten society…why would he be good enough for Hawks? Why should he allow any sort of delusion into his life when he’d been carefully constructing his revenge? Why should he leave any room for Hawks to throw a wrench into his plans? 

The cold air whips through Dabi’s inky black hair, and he squints up at the constellations, unable to make anything out through his shitty vision. He takes a deep breath before pulling the microphone in the collar of his jacket up to his mouth.

“Ready, Ujiko,” Dabi sighs, the revolting sensation of black muck pooling in his stomach and surging up his throat. Dabi lurches, the dark ooze pouring out of his mouth and surrounding him. For a few seconds, he’s suffocating, until the murkiness clears and he’s standing in the doctor’s laboratory. 

…

…

Dabi’s alone, sitting on the couch of the League’s temporary hideaway, staring at the ceiling, wishing that a certain Pro Hero was sitting on it with him. He can’t get their warehouse interaction out of his head. Was Hawks really so ignorant as to think that Dabi’s incapable of thinking long-term? That’s been his whole shtick ever since he’d been living on the streets, biding his time and contemplating his vengeance. Hawks was supposed to be one of the top heroes in the nation, just a few points shy of…that thing . Perhaps Dabi really had succeeded with his plan, covering up his emotionally reactive nature with a cold and callous facade. 

BZZT! BZZT!

The burner phone on the table vibrates. Only one person has the number to that phone. A sly smirk spreads across Dabi’s face as he grabs it, accepting the call and holding it to his scarred ear. 

“Crawling back to me so soon?” Dabi sneers, prompting an irritated snort from Hawks on the other end of the phone.

“Just wanted confirmation that you’re not gonna pull a little stunt on me again,” The hero’s voice is low and laced with annoyance; it fills Dabi’s veins with a sick thrill. 

“Live and learn, hero . You never could control me. There was never a point. You’re the one that still needs to prove yourself,” Dabi trills flirtatiously into the phone, the tension so thin you could cut it with a butter knife. “But…what happened the other day was…unfortunate.”

“I understand that plans change…I just would’ve liked a little heads up,” Hawks sighs, but his sudden change in tone sets off Dabi’s paranoia.

“You can��t trace this call,” He spits into the phone, his voice taking on a malicious edge, and Hawks clicks his tongue.

“I’m not…just…waiting to see what your next task for me is. I’m too fast for my own good. You know the slogan. Wanna be on top of this.”

“What, so you can betray me faster?” Dabi snaps. 

The silence is chilling. 

“I want you to trust me, Dabi. I’m genuinely interested. If you’ve done your research you know those bastards got their claws into me early. I started my first agency at eighteen. I could’ve been a normal kid with a normal life. Record-breaking is nice…but it would be nicer to be free.”

“That’s what I’m here for…to complicate and corrupt your little bird brain,” Dabi sneers, still struggling to buy Hawks’ words…but part of him desperately wants to. Hawks could just be whispering sweet nothings to placate him…but…what if… Dabi takes a deep breath. One final task to truly prove himself…Hawks has to take a life for Dabi. 

“I’ve got a job for you alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only thing running through Dabi’s mind when he walks off the stage in the basement of the Gunga Mountain Villa is that he wonders if Hawks showed up. Hawks successfully slaughtering Best Jeanist was the hottest thing anyone’s ever done for him…and, if he didn’t think he was attracted to Hawks before, he sure as hell was sure of it now.

The PLF members part, giving Dabi a wide berth as he strides through the crowd, eyeing him warily like he’s a bomb waiting to go off. To be fair, he killed a number of their comrades…but they fucking deserved it. It was kill or be killed…and he just happened to be better at killing. Embarrassingly, Dabi’s eyes light up when he spots a familiar pair of crimson wings through the sea of anarchists. 

‘You’re too attached…’ Dabi’s thoughts degrade himself for allowing his emotions to slip through the cracks. Hawks is schmoozing with a woman…probably a fan with the way she’s acting all giddy. Something in the back of Dabi’s mind tells him to char her where she stands, but he swallows it down. He doesn’t need anyone else to catch on to his thing with Hawks…whatever the thing was…fleeting touches…light flirting…staring a little too long at one another…yet, neither of them had made a real move. 

“You look happy, number two, up to somethin’?” Dabi raises his eyebrow as he approaches the Pro Hero. 

“Nah, man. I was just waitin’ for you,” Hawks chuckles with a bright smile, and Dabi would be lying if he said he wouldn’t burn a thousand innocents to see that stupid smile for the rest of his days. 

“You know…I wasn’t even sure you were gonna show,” Dabi mutters as they make their way through the crowd. Hawks is walking close enough to Dabi that their hands slightly brush against one another, but Dabi barely even registers it. 

“Of course I’d show up for you ,” Hawks smirks, batting his eyelashes enough for Dabi to notice, regrettably making his heart skip a beat. 

“Don’t flatter me,” Dabi mutters tersely as they reach the doors leading to the exit corridor. 

“C’mon, Dabs. You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” Hawks whispers, just loud enough for Dabi to hear. “Why don’t we move this conversation to your bedroom?”

Dabi nearly chokes on his own spit, completely caught off guard by Hawks’ forwardness as he stops in his tracks. Sure, Hawks could just be seducing him for intel, but goddamnit if Dabi didn’t want him on top of him right now. Even if he couldn’t physically feel anything…Dabi at least wanted him to try . If he would just try, then it would be enough. It would be more than anyone else had ever done for him. He feels pathetic…pathetic for even letting these types of thoughts enter his brain…pathetic for romanticizing the idea… He’s supposed to be focused on one goal and one goal alone. Hawks isn’t a part of his plan…but…maybe…

“Hello? Dabi?” Hawks chuckles, waving his hand in front of the villain’s face. Dabi blinks, mouth dry and throat scratchy, zoning back into the world. 

“Why?” The word falls from Dabi’s lips, full of confusion and apprehension. Why would Hawks want him if it wasn’t for intel? His body…he hasn’t… Dabi swallows, painfully aware of his own breathing pattern as memories come fluttering back to the front of his brain…memories that he’d pushed down. Before the league…after he woke up…living on the street…what he had to do just to get enough money for food… Sex with Hawks didn’t seem like it would mirror those memories though… Sex with Hawks sounded gentle… It sounded like he wouldn’t be treated like a toy. It sounded like Hawks would take care of him…and…isn’t that really one of the things that he’s always wanted? To be taken care of? For someone to look at him? For someone to make him feel like he’s worth it?

“Because you’ve got a thing for me…and I’ve got a thing for you? Unless I’ve misunderstood something. Thought most of your talk was flirty…even if it was on the meaner side. Why don’t we celebrate your promotion, lieutenant ,” Hawks shrugs with a cheeky smile, and Dabi doesn’t know what to think. Surely, he’s not that easy to read. No one else has managed to see through him…until now. Was he really even trying to hide it? Was he really staring that much? He’d be an idiot not to take this chance. It’s not like anyone else will ever want to be with him anyway…hell…Hawks might change his mind, too. Dabi looks around, making sure that they’re not being watched before grabbing Hawks’ wrist and pulling him behind a pillar.  

“Hawks…I need you to know something…if…if we’re really gonna do this,” Dabi mutters, trying to piece together his thoughts appropriately. 

“Hm?” Hawks hums, raising an eyebrow, waiting for Dabi to continue. 

Dabi speaks incredibly vaguely, omitting names and locations and time frames, giving an extremely watered-down version of the state of his body and why. He also explains that it’ll be a miracle if Hawks will be able to make him feel anything at all...that his inability to feel physical pain also translated to an inability to feel physical pleasure. He hates the look in the hero’s eyes…he doesn’t want pity…but…there’s also clear determination in his gaze.

Before Dabi can open his mouth, Hawks is kissing him. 

It’s such a strange sensation. He can’t feel the kiss…not really . Not the soft, tender kiss that Hawks gently presses to his lips. He can’t feel the hand that’s cupping the side of his face, just a ghost of a sensation that might’ve happened. Dabi’s eyelids flutter closed, and he attempts to kiss Hawks back, moving his lips in a way that he thinks is right…still…he practically feels nothing physically. That is…until Hawks licks deliberately into his mouth. Hawks’ warm tongue meets Dabi’s hot one, and…he can feel it; the villain eagerly jabs his tongue, sliding against Hawks’ and going further into his mouth. Hawks nearly yelps when Dabi starts practically tongue-fucking his mouth, the stitches in his tongue brushing against Hawks’ lip as Dabi traces his molars. Hawks groans…a sound that Dabi immediately becomes addicted to, and Dabi wraps his arms around the hero, grasping at the back of his jacket and pulling him close.

Finally, they both come up for air. 

“Fuck, your tongue’s long,” Hawks snickers, wiping the spit from his lips with the back of his gloved hand, and Dabi swears he feels blood rushing to his cheeks and his groin. Despite his fears, Hawks has at least turned him on…which is a start. He wants more …more of this animalistic sensation that he’s gone his whole life without. He wants the electricity of mutual worship and raw pleasure. 

“Let’s get outta here, birdie.”

…

…

Dabi didn’t care who saw them. Not anymore. He practically dragged Hawks up staircase after staircase, through the halls of villa, eventually through his door before slamming and locking it behind them. 

“Gotta ask. You clean?” Hawks clears his throat as he slips out of his jacket, draping it over the chair at Dabi’s desk. 

“Yeah…you?” Dabi mutters uncomfortably, thankful that he was able to speak truthfully. He follows Hawks’ lead, letting the conductor cuffs of his jacket fall to the floor.

“Course I’m clean. HPSC regulations,” Hawks replies curtly, and, then, he’s all over the villain once again. 

This time, it’s Dabi who moans, wanton and needy as his tongue massages Hawks’, and the two manage to sloppily kick off their shoes as the hero walks the villain backward until they’re both falling onto his bed. Dabi’s fingers run through Hawks’ hair, pulling him as close as humanly possible as Hawks’ hands grip the scars on his shoulders. 

“Lube?” Hawks murmurs breathlessly between kisses.

“Nightstand drawer,” Dabi answers into Hawks’ open mouth, tongues intertwining. Dabi feels the faint wind from Hawks’ feathers, hearing the opening and closing of a drawer in the darkness. 

Dabi sharply inhales when he feels Hawks’ hands at the hem of his shirt. How is Hawks going to react to his patchworked body of skin that doesn’t even belong to him? I mean…yeah, he’s seen his arms…but…the rest of him? Dabi certainly didn’t have Hawks’ body…with all his curves of muscle that Dabi had seen in a swimsuit magazine once. Dabi hated how he looked…he hated seeing himself in the mirror…a modern-day Frankenstein, only recently having enough to eat to put some weight on his formerly skeletal frame. By comparison, Hawks was a Greek god…though compared to anyone , that metaphor would still suffice. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he never noticed Hawks freeze when Dabi flinched. 

“If you’re not comfortable we can stop,” Hawks murmurs reassuringly, letting the pulled fabric fall back on Dabi’s pale lower stomach. The sentence almost makes Dabi sob, the gentleness in Hawks’ voice…it’s almost too much. Dabi isn’t used to anyone being gentle with him. 

“I want this,” Dabi rasps, the dull throbbing under his eyes starting up again, blood threatening to seep through.

Hawks smiles, eyes sultry and seductive. Tenderly, he lifts up Dabi’s shirt, mindful of the staples, avoiding snagging; when the last of it lifts off of Dabi’s head, a few feathers send it over to the chair with Hawks’ jacket. Dabi holds his breath, waiting for Hawks to comment about his body…waiting for his lips to curl and his nose to wrinkle and for him to walk away and pretend this never happened.

Instead, Hawks’ fingertips carefully trace over Dabi’s scars that run between his pecs and stomach, like he’s memorizing a map. 

“You’re beautiful,” The hero whispers, and the muscle beating in Dabi’s chest twists. Dabi reaches around Hawks’ neck, unclasping the button above his wings that holds his top on. Hawks grins before stepping off the bed to unhook his belt and pull off his pants, which is when Dabi realizes that his top has been a leotard this whole time. In his aroused state, he fumbles with his own belt to get his pants and boxers off, and, when he’s finally successful, Hawks is on top of him again. The Pro doesn’t even bat an eye at the obvious skin grafts or the healed stitches on his dick that didn’t need staples…he doesn’t make fun of him when he sees the scars that border stretch marks on his thighs and lead down to his ankles. Hawks’ gaze is full of devotion…full of emotions and words that Dabi doesn’t think he deserves. And yet…here they are…vulnerable…skin-to-skin. Hawks mouths at Dabi’s neck, sinking his teeth hard enough into his skin for Dabi to be aware of it, and the whimper that bursts from his throat is more than embarrassing. Dabi’s face flushes, unable to fully grasp the heat of Hawks’ body pressed against him…unable to sense the way his hands dance up and down his sides…or the way his lips caress the scars. Dabi’s too focused on their staggered breaths to hear the subtle squeeze of lube on Hawks’ fingers.

The moment Hawks slips a finger inside him, Dabi’s putty in his hands, moaning and groaning like a bitch in heat as he flexes against the slow roll of Hawks’ knuckle, trying to get more friction. His insides…there’s sensation there…an overwhelming amount compared to his outsides. He’s inconsolable, mouth agape, blood threatening to spill beneath his eyes as he tries not to cry from the pleasure. He didn’t know sex could feel this good…and fuck did he feel good. It felt personal…it had meaning …things that Dabi desperately craved. 

“You’re so gorgeous like this, Dabi,” Hawks croons, lube dripping from the villain’s hole as the hero continues to pump his finger in and out. The response is only a weak groan that’s halfway between a gasp and a sob as Dabi’s arms grab at Hawks’ neck, pulling him down for a filthy kiss. Hawks’ eyelids flutter shut as he obliges to Dabi’s greedy gesture, slipping his tongue into the villain’s mouth, tracing his scarred bottom lip. Dabi, out of practice and overwhelmed, practically sticks his tongue down Hawks’ throat, whimpering and silently pleading for more. He wanted to feel more. It was heaven to finally feel …and for the sensations to be ecstasy. 

“You want another one?” Hawks whispers, voice sweeter than nectar, and Dabi nods, wincing as the hero coaxes a second finger inside. The stretch is foreign, mildly uncomfortable, but Dabi’s so used to being numb that he doesn’t care. Hawks delicately curls his fingers, the rhythmic motion making heat coil in the pit of Dabi’s stomach…heat that is far different from the fire he’s used to. Dabi cries out as his muscles relax, allowing another finger to disappear inside him. To Dabi, hours have passed, maybe even days, time no longer has any meaning as his tongue swirls around Hawks’, sucking on his bottom lip as their heated breaths fill the night air. Hawks whispers soft praises between slutty lip locks, comforting Dabi all the while until the pain resolves and pleasure pulses through the villain. Hawks takes note of how much the muscle gives and decides to carefully pull his fingers out, leaving Dabi practically writhing beneath him, half-hard for the first time in who knows how long. 

Hawks’ eyes flutter shut, head tilting back and giving Dabi a full view of his pulsing jugular as he smooths lube over his erection. Feathers gently spread Dabi’s legs, pushing them up so Hawks can get a perfect view of his hole as he prepares to slip inside.

“Wait,” Dabi blurts, heart pounding and blood roaring in his ears. 

“Having second thoughts?” Hawks raises his eyebrow.

“Touya.” The name leaves Dabi’s lips before he can take it back. It’s too late. 

Hawks cocks his head, confused. Dabi can’t turn back now. 

“My name…My real name. It’s Touya. You can…you can call me Touya,” Dabi reveals, his voice quivering. 

The corners of Hawks’ eyes…usually so sharp, focused, and calculated, seem to soften. 

“Mine’s Keigo.” Too late for Hawks to take back the secret that the Commission would severely punish him for leaking. It felt…right. It felt right to finally speak it aloud…and it felt right to exchange this secret with Dabi…sanity be damned. 

“Keigo…that’s cute,” Touya smiles, relief washing over him. They’ve both shared something intrinsic. Something precious. It makes Touya feel…safe. He can’t remember the last time he actually felt safe. 

Breath hisses through Touya’s gritted teeth as Keigo’s tip slowly stretches him open, pain mixing with undeniable pleasure. 

“Fuck,” Touya whines, hating how stupid his voice must sound all twisted and submissive, but Keigo is intoxicated by it. Inch by inch, Keigo pushes inside, punching the air from Touya’s lungs until they’re skin-to-skin.

“Just breathe,” Keigo mutters reassuringly, letting the villain’s body get accustomed. Touya feels so… full . That’s the best way he can describe it. He feels…grounded…which is saying a lot considering most days he feels like a vengeful spirit floating through purgatory. At the same time, Keigo tries not to swoon at how hot Dabi’s insides feel wrapped around his cock.

Dabi’s dick twitches, his chest rising and falling, mind numb and yet so alive all at once. His brain is fuzzy, drowning in pleasure as he swallows hard, taking in all of the new ethereal sensations floating through his body, feeling the pain ebb.

“I’m ready,” He rasps, saliva pooling in his mouth as Keigo’s hips rock, and Touya winces at the friction. 

“Easy, baby,” Keigo purrs, and Touya’s brain melts at the pet name. 

“ Keigo ,” He moans his name without thinking, and the hero almost disintegrates from the raw emotions that surge through his body upon hearing that word spoken in that voice. 

“Oh, Touya, ” Keigo groans, his tone mimicking the villain’s as he carefully digs his fingers into Touya’s unscarred hips as he grinds, watching his cock vanish and reappear over and over and over again. His golden eyes lift up, meeting Touya’s glittering turquoise, and, frankly, he thinks Touya looks angelic right now, blissed out with flushed cheeks, sweaty and uncoordinated and…gorgeous. 

Hawks fully assumed this approach to Dabi would end in senseless fucking…chasing pleasure selfishly…but he was eighty-five percent sure they were genuinely making love right now. Dabi desperately grabs for Hawks, fingers finding purchase and sinking fingernails into his thick biceps.

“Can we ~ fuck~ can we kiss - ah- please?” Touya’s broken voice practically begs, and he can’t believe he’s fucking resorted to begging but if he doesn’t taste Hawks’ tongue soon he might just explode. The request makes Hawks’ heart flip in his chest…he’s never reached this level of intimacy with anyone before…and it’s with Dabi of all people? Keigo dips down, never once breaking his sensual rhythm of rolling his hips as his lips meet the villain’s. 

Touya gasps into the kiss, hands reaching up to tangle in Hawks’ blonde locks, holding him so he can’t break free. Touya’s inhumanly long tongue slithers into Hawks’ mouth, tracing his soft palate and massaging his tongue before he pulls away with a cry as Hawks changes the angle. Keigo delicately touches Touya’s prostate with his tip, and Touya’s thighs shake feebly. 

“You feel so good , Touya,” Keigo huffs, face inches away from the villain. They lock eyes once again, the eye contact stabbing through their souls. The praise goes right to Touya’s cock, which would be painfully hard if Touya could even feel it. His insides feel like they’re on fire with desire…ecstasy boiling in his veins like a raging inferno. He didn’t know these types of sensations could even exist…especially for him. He grabs onto Keigo, palms splaying in the space between his wings, fingernails scratching red lines against Hawks’ back. The heat coils in the pit of his stomach…and then…Touya feels his emotions feed into his Quirk. 

“Not safe…gonna… hah~ah! Oh fuck, I’m gonna burn you!” Touya warns, red blurring his vision as he feels the flames prickling beneath his skin. 

In Hawks’ mind, he has to let him do it. If he wants Dabi to trust him, he has to let him do it. His Achilles’ heel…this is quite possibly the most dangerous thing he’s ever done. He’s going to risk his wings catching on fire…all to ease the process of getting as much intel as possible. After this, he doubts Dabi will let him out of his sight much. Not that Hawks wasn’t enjoying this. Dabi was attractive…to Hawks at least. Even if the majority of it was for show, Hawks was into Dabi…at least a little bit. Enough for him to feel like he's fucking with feelings involved...enough for him to tell him his first name. 

“It’s fine,” Hawks chokes out, his languid thrusts rhythmically slamming into Dabi. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Touya sobs into his ear, and he can’t even believe those words are coming out of his mouth after everything he’s done. He can’t fathom the fact that he doesn’t want to hurt Hawks. The hero blinks, abruptly taken aback; if anything, he’d assumed Dabi was a sadist. 

“It’s okay,” Keigo grunts, and that’s all Dabi needs to hear before he’s uncontrollably “crying”, rivers of red pouring from his lower eyelids and out from underneath the scars in his eyes. The smell of blood catches Hawks off guard, but Dabi had warned him about this…about the state of his body. 

Touya completely loses his composure when he comes, hips stuttering, legs clamping tightly against Hawks’ waist, palms igniting in searing heat in the space between Keigo’s wings. Dabi gasps, trying his best to turn the heat down and quiet his Quirk, more bloody tears streaking down his face when he hears Keigo stifling anguished curses. 

Keigo keeps going, fucking Touya through his orgasm, pulling moan after moan from Touya’s throat until the climax shoots lightning down his spine and into the villain. 

The fire stops...the sound of sizzling skin fills the air. 

When Hawks pulls out, the emptiness almost throws Touya into a pit of despair, and blood seeps out of his eyes for the millionth time that night. He shudders, feeling like that lost little kid on the streets again…alone. Almost immediately, Hawks' wings come cascading over the two of them, encasing Dabi in a crimson cocoon…safe…and intimate. His heart stills…the memories drift away…his mind settles. The sudden calm he’s experiencing…merely at his touch…There’s no other possible explanation. Dabi’s in love…with a hero . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four months later, Keigo Takami finds himself unable to sleep. Ironically, he’d been sleeping in Dabi’s bed just fine, vulnerable next to one of Japan’s most wanted. It felt…wrong. What he is doing is wrong. He knows it in his heart and his gut…but…he can’t turn back now. Killing Twice is going to be the second hardest thing Keigo will ever have to do…the first will be betraying Dabi’s trust. Trust that was so painstakingly hard to earn…trust that Dabi probably would never have in anyone else again…and it would be all Keigo’s fault. 

His duty is more important than such trivial things like feelings…that’s what the HPSC has taught him. But…a part of him…a part of him has grown soft. It was what he had silently been afraid of, though the Commission leader reassured him that they thought he was the one person who could do it. They told him to get information and trust by any means necessary…even if it meant sleeping with Dabi. After all, he was one of the only people they couldn’t find any intel on…what better way to get closer ? 

Originally, Hawks was disturbed by the thought. The idea of sleeping with a villain …someone who’s stolen innocent lives for his own sick and twisted ideals…ideals that solely focused on burning everything Hawks stood for to the ground. But…as time went on…he felt like he got to know Dabi better...especially once the dam broke, and Dabi spilled. Unconsciously, he was humanized in Hawks’ mind…no… Keigo’s mind. Keigo knew bits and pieces of his past…and Keigo knew his first name. The only leads he had to go on…but…he hadn’t shared them yet. It felt…wrong. Once again. On the other side of the coin. It would be wrong for him to divulge intricate pieces of information that weren’t pertinent to his mission. Keigo’s morals tended to get the best of him when he found loopholes. Because he also knew Dabi as a person now. He knew he hated fish. He knew what side of the bed he preferred to sleep on. He knew what his favorite constellation was. He knew the villain intimately…which he had never planned on. 

Keigo sits up in bed, turning to look at Dabi’s sleeping form. He’d found it was easy to tire Dabi out after an orgasm or two; Dabi even said it made him less likely to have nightmares, but that might’ve just been bullshit. 

Tomorrow…the war begins. Tomorrow…he has to break Dabi’s heart. Keigo feels his chest tighten and his throat close. Oh, he’s in too deep. He’s proving the Commission leader wrong…he isn’t perfect. 

Dabi stirs, grumbling curses as he sleepily blinks awake, roused by Keigo’s soft stifled sobs. Keigo hurriedly starts wiping away tears; he can’t be weak in front of Dabi . Especially if they’re going to potentially kill each other tomorrow. Oh God…the thought of killing Touya ? Tears silently stream down the hero’s face. 

“Are you…are you crying?” 

The question cuts through the air like a knife. 

“Bad dream.”

You could hear a pin drop in Dabi’s bedroom. Keigo thumbs away his tears, but they keep coming. The hero pulls his knees to his chest, putting his head down. 

“Hey, uh…I don’t give a shit if you cry…I used to be a big crybaby before my tear ducts got fucked up,” Dabi scoffs, using self-deprecation to ease the tension as he props himself up on his elbows, trying to catch Keigo’s silhouette in the thin rays of moonlight that pour in through the window. Touya takes a deep breath, sitting up beside Keigo before apprehensively putting the palm of his hand in the space between Keigo’s wings, rubbing the scarred shape of his handprint from their first time. It felt disgusting to care, but Dabi couldn’t ignore it anymore.

The motion of Touya rubbing his back almost makes Keigo cry even harder. He’s going to lose this forever. He’s going to absolutely destroy Touya. He has to. He has no choice; he doesn’t want that bright future he’s always envisioned to be snuffed out by the PLF’s plans. If he doesn’t kill Twice…so many lives will be lost…so many innocents…Keigo’s heart isn’t worth that price. Keigo isn’t worth that price. Keigo can’t see through the tears and the shadows, and he doesn’t know how he’s not openly losing it. He’s sitting there like a statue…eerily still. 

Touya, half-asleep and completely out of his fucking mind, decides the best way to distract Keigo is to say:

“Hey…uh…this might be a bad time…but…I want you to know…that…I lo-”

'Fuck .'

That does it. Hawks has to completely shut Keigo down. The tears stop flowing. He can’t let his mission be compromised. He has to stick to his guns…stick to everything the Commission has driven into him since he was a child. Before Dabi can finish his sentence, Hawks turns to face him…and kisses him. 

For once …Dabi feels everything. Touya feels the passion in the kiss. He feels how desperately Hawks clings to him, sucking on the unburned flesh of his top lip, gently tracing Dabi’s tongue with his own, teeth clicking together. Touya kisses him back, fingers fluttering through feathers, and they fall back onto the pillows. 

One last kiss…one last kiss while they’re far too young to die…but they just might kill each other in the morning…

[8myass]

.. restraints .. pairing. park jisung x female reader genre. angst, fluff pov. second person (you, yours, yourself, etc.) synopsis. jisung is just trying to remain your good boy for the rest of your shared lives. wc. 0.9k cw. yandere!jisung, brother’s best friend!jisung, older!reader, slight bimbo!reader tw. pet names (‘baby’, ‘good boy’, ‘darling’), kidnapping, gaslighting, delusional ji, cursing a/n. belated birthday post for my hubby.

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it? I hope I didn’t tie you up too roughly,” Jisung pouted, analyzing the way you shook and squirmed around in the chair you had been tied up in. The ropes were tight with their restraint on your wrists and ankles. “Does it hurt?”

You nodded, tears streaming from your swollen eyes. You had cried so much tonight, but he was so blinded by his love for you and desire to have you all to himself that he didn’t even notice. You were in his room, all for him to touch and talk to and own. You were like his little pet now. He would take care of you like the good boy that he was, the good boy you always told him he was.

“No? That’s good! I’m glad!” he leaped for joy as he watched your head nod, for some reason it wasn’t resonating in his mind that you were telling him it did hurt you, “See? I’m still your good boy, aren’t I, baby?”

If you could speak right now, if the duct tape wasn’t stuffed over your mouth to prevent you from making even a sound, you would’ve told him how bad he was being, how naughty he was at this moment. If he let you go, now that’s when he’d be a good boy. 

He was definitely a baby in your eyes, you would’ve never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that Jisung, of all people, could do something as sinister as kidnapping you like this. All for what? Because he had feelings for you? Because he wanted you to tell him how good he was for you on repeat? None of that was happening now. You might’ve been into him before this, if there was even a chance for that given the fact he was years younger than you and best friends with your younger brother, but after this, he has zero chances with you.

I mean, you’re not necessarily in a place to reject him in any way anymore. That’s why this plan was so perfect for him. You couldn’t say no to him. Not just because you were physically unable to but because you were locked away from the rest of the world, you only have him now. Therefore, he’s the only one that could ever be meant for you now that you have no one else.

“You understand that this is how things had to work out, right?” he frowned, reaching his hands out to run his long fingers down your cheekbones. You flinched and jerked your head away, crying out muffled pleas into the rough material covering your sensitive lips.

You were broken already and you’ve only just woken up a few hours ago. He was a monster. He was more than a monster. He was sick, twisted, delusional. He didn’t process that this was wrong, that made him all the more terrifying to you. How could he not see what he was doing as a criminal offense? Did he seriously think this was all in good fun?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you to your brother. He’ll stop searching for you as soon as he hears you’ve gone off on one of your little rendezvous again,” he smiled, his tone sympathetic. You weren’t even sure he had it in him to feel sympathy, so all you could do was glare at him, jerking farther away from him in an attempt to void your face of his persistent warm breath fanning against your skin. “You’re such a silly girl, always running away from the stressfulness of reality for some random guy who you’ve only just met. Maybe we can go on a rendezvous of our own one day. Wouldn’t that be so fun, darling?”

You wanted to spit on his face and yell, “Let me go asshole!” But everything was restricting you from doing so, although you assumed your eyes were doing the trick by the way he stood up straight and cocked his head down at your trembling figure.

“You don’t seem as thrilled about that idea as I am. Do you not want to go anywhere with me?” you saw his eye twitch at his own words, slightly snarling at the way you seemed to loathe him for what he’s done just to make sure you were his. “Would you prefer us to stay inside then? We can spend more quality time alone in my room? Oh, sorry, our room.” Not what you meant at all. 

And there he goes, taking everything the wrong way. That’s just him, you can only guess. You haven’t known this side of him for long, and he was quite unpredictable, but you know for a fact that he was delusional beyond belief. You wanted to feel bad for the way he genuinely thought you cared about him, but you just wanted him to let you go in the end, so it was difficult either way.

You squirmed and struggled some more against your restraints, trying your absolute hardest to break free and tell him what a disgusting piece of shit you think he is, but he just smiled down at you with a sadistic laugh, “There’s no use in trying to escape anymore, you’re not going anywhere. I love you and you’ll love me too, don’t worry. We’ll be happy together one day. I’ll be your good boy forever, baby.”