#a fic where absolutely nothing bad happens to Dark at all (lie)

[luckylectio]

Anti

(For my fic "A Tale of a Darker Time"!)

[agroteraa]

Actaeon

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Part 1.

Part 2: Artemis

Part 3.1: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.1)

Part 3.2: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.2)

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, light choking.

Word Count: 5K

"Venetia! I also wanted to..."

But she had already triumphantly closed the bathroom door. You slammed the door a couple of times, but all you heard in response was the muffled sound of water and a Paris Hilton song blasting from the speakers that were in that room. She would definitely listen to the entire album during her bath procedures, and certainly more than once.

Clearly, this would take a long time. It was too long to wait - you'd been shivering from the cold. Nothing special had happened, you just opened the window in your room and were so engrossed in reading a book that you forgot about everything in the world. The summer days in Saltburn were hot, but still the nights gave you chills sometimes. So, every fascination has its price to pay.

The second bathroom in your wing of the house broke down tonight. That was bad, because the servants could not cope on their own, and it was too late to call the plumbing, and there was no such urgent need when there were several bathrooms. It was a pity the senior Cattons didn’t know that when Venetia used to occupy the only bathroom nearby, that was indeed the most urgent need.

You didn't want to bother Felix and Venetia's parents, much less use their bathroom. James and Elspeth were friends of your parents and this was far from your first summer in Saltburn, but still it would be somehow too inconvenient, they were not your uncle and aunt, after all. There was also no question about the servants' bathroom, it seemed even more inconvenient for you to occupy a bathroom that was used by more than 10 people at once.

There was only one option left if you wanted to lie in the bath for as long as you wanted so that no one would bother you, and right now.

You went down to the living room, where you could hear the sound of the TV. Felix was sitting next to Oliver, smoking a cigarette, switching channels and talking cheerfully to his friend.

"Hey Felix!" you spoke to the guy, and he turned to you, his face reflecting the blue light from the TV in the semi-darkness.

"Yes, Y/N?" he smiled.

"Mm... Can I use your bathroom now? We’ve got one tub malfunctioning, and Venetia got stuck in the other, deciding to do Live at Saltburn's Bathroom 2007, no less..."

You specifically said "your bathroom," looking at Felix the whole time. It was more correct to address both guys at once, but you just couldn't look into Oliver's eyes like that and ask him to use his bathroom with Felix.

"Say no more," he grinned, "Of course! Go ahead, enjoy yourself!"

"Thank you," you smiled and nodded at him, and at that moment you finally looked at Oliver. Unlike you, he had been doing nothing but staring at you all this time. You looked into his blue eyes on a face that was bathed in blue light, which made his eyes seem even more piercing. But he never said anything, absolutely nothing. His expression was unreadable. Was he offended that you didn't address him?

You smiled shyly at Oliver, nodded too, and left the room, bumping into Farleigh in the doorway, who was carrying a large pack of crisps.

"Hello, Y/N! How are you... hey Felix, did you switch that reality show that I was watching?!"

"Of course, yes, because no one wants to watch it except you," Felix replied.

"What? It's "Big Brother", actually! Yes, it's a great show, and we all need a little drama sometimes late in the evening! I bet Oliver likes it too. Yes, Oliver?"

"Oh, please!" Felix rolled his eyes and teasingly began to put the remote away from the hands of the approaching Farleigh.

You chuckled and finally left the room. You never looked at Oliver again, but you could swear that you felt his gaze burning into your back.

God, could he really be offended? Or maybe you did something or said something before and didn't realize it? It seems that Oliver had been noticing a lot, but always kept everything to himself.

Oliver, this guy. You met him at Oxofrd and you chatted and even went to some pubs with him and Felix a few times, but you didn't understand what he was like then. To tell the truth, you still had no idea, but the main reason why you were afraid to look him in the eye when you asked about the bathroom was that you thought he would immediately feel and find out about the crush that had been developing for him for the second month now of your growing closer with him here, in Saltburn.

The only thing you could say for sure was that he was not as insecure and awkward himself as you thought at university, rather he was silent and observant, knowing the value of himself, his words and actions. Attentively listening and being generally deep. His inner confidence and even some kind of mystery began to intrigue you in earnest.

Walking through the corridors of the beautiful old manor, you thought to yourself that you were even glad that everything turned out that way with your bathrooms. The thought of you lying in the same hot tub that Oliver lied almost every night strangely excited and turned you on.

You reached the right room, looking around - it was quiet and cozy. You immediately started taking water into the bathroom, and while you were waiting, you started walking in circles. Here was Felix's bathroom table, next to which his red robe was carelessly hung, two crushed toothpastes and a brush with slightly protruding bristles. You imagined that he was brushing his teeth with the speed and power of a blender in order to quickly deal with this chore and get down to much more interesting things that another day had prepared for him.

You laughed softly at this thought, and then went over to Oliver's side.

Everything was surprisingly neat in contrast to his neighbor, one almost full paste, one brush, two neatly folded towels. You wonder where his robe was. Did he come and go without it?

Gods, you started to think about something wrong. But it was too late – you already started imagining Oliver in his underwear, how he comes into this bathroom, takes them off and lies down in a hot tub… Or maybe he comes and goes here right away without underwear? Ugh... that's enough.

You decided not to lock the door from Felix's room - the boys were obviously absorbed in domination for the telly, besides, they know that you were here, so you just loosely closed the door. No one should come in.

The bathtub was almost full of water, you impatiently took off your clothes and decided to put them together with your bathrobe... where? You didn't want to go to Oliver's side - it was too minimalistic and clean. And besides, it seemed like... too intimate for some reason. But Felix's side would tolerate it, also there were a couple of spare towels in the corner that you forgot to take.

You carefully lowered yourself into the bath, the hot water started nibbling your skin. God, it felt so good. You gradually began to stretch and relax.

There was something about lying in an empty room in the bath while the water was still bubbling. The light was pleasantly dimmed, and the air in the room was gradually getting hot and sticky. This kind of environment had always calmed you down and turned you on at the same time. Except that there was a lot more of the excitement this night rather than the calming.

Thoughts of Oliver came back to you. The way he leaves his room, comes into this very bathroom, fills it just like you did. He lies down in it, as you were lying now, inhales hot air and breathe out even hotter air. Beads of sweat are gathering on his body. And you'd already seen his body too many times while you were swimming or sunbathing. Even you, being more of a face girl rather than a six-pack girl, could not sometimes look away, it was good that most of the time you were wearing sunglasses and he hardly noticed anything. Usually you rather admired his face and beautiful eyes, but now, in your fantasies, his eyes were closed, so your imagination stopped at his beautiful figure and, without too much modesty, began to write it out in details.

You couldn't help yourself, except…

The fingers on your left hand began to lightly brush your lips from left to right, you felt your own hot breath. You wondered if they were…

Then the hand began to descend lower, to your breasts, gently cupping one breast. Fingers slowly drew circles around your nipple, and then squeezed it, causing you to bite your lip and inhale sharply.

...if it were his hands, then....

The water was hot, but the heat below you was even stronger. Unable to resist it, your hand moved even lower, carefully making its way through your folds. You started caressing yourself. All these stoked emotions, tension, unspoken words lately, it was all too much. Of course, when you turned to Felix, the first thing you thought about was that it wasn't him using this bathroom, but someone else. What if he did it too, right here in this place?

...You wonder if those were his hands, would they have caressed you the same way?

This and the previous thoughts and the briefly popped images in your head finally brought you to the peak.

"Oliver..." you whispered loudly, unable to keep that name on your lips.

He almost gave himself away at this point.

Of course, you weren't alone all this time. While Felix and Farleigh were arguing over the right to own the remote, Oliver sat next to them, unable to believe that this was happening. You were going to his bathroom. Of course, in his thoughts now (and maybe in his plans for the future) it wasn't just you and Felix's bathroom, no. You, lying in his bathtub, was the only way to say it correctly and so... luscious.

He was already preoccupied with these thoughts from the very beginning, when you innocently asked Felix about the bathroom, and was just waiting for the right moment to slip away from this company. Fortunately, Elspeth soon joined them, and James came in after her, so, thanks to new guests in the room and the still ongoing discussion about what the Catton family would be watching on TV that evening, Oliver was able to slip away without much difficulty.

He impatiently followed your footsteps, counting in his head whether it was enough time to pass for you to look around there, fill the bath, lie down in it and start relaxing. Thinking about the last words, Oliver began to tense up in a certain sense and in a certain place. Yes, he decided, enough time had passed.

Very quietly, he walked through Felix's dark room to the crack in the door, which left a narrow strip of light from the next room. You were lying in the bath. God, it was a pity that he missed the moment when you took off your clothes and lay down there, but it was also good. He would see everything again, and very soon.

Oliver breathed very quietly and slowly.

God, how beautiful you were, even that small part of your body that could be seen from the bathroom and was also limited to the door crack was inexpressibly beautiful to him. He felt like an ancient Greek myths character, some kind of satyr watching the bathing of a beautiful nymph. No, the goddess. He thought of himself as Actaeon, and you were now his Artemis, taking your bath. A hunter who made his way to the goddess of hunting in the forest and was punished for his excessive curiosity, desires and impatience.

It was also some kind of forbidden act, as if he had actually made his way into the sacred grove. The grove was sacred, but he was glaring at you in a completely blasphemous manner. If he had got to be turned into a stag or something, he was willing to pay the price right now. Every fascination has its price to pay. Although no, not right now.…

Oliver was breathing very quietly and slowly, but soon his breathing became heavier and heavier.

It was too much when you started slowly running your hand over your body, starting with your lips and going lower and lower.

His mouth involuntarily opened in amazement, and then his jaw clenched, and he gnashed his teeth almost audibly. He bit his lip. It was impossible to tolerate, no. His own hand also began to slowly descend.

What was he counting on? Probably just to see you lying in his tub, left to yourself. He didn’t know himself. But for some reason, he did not hope for what was happening at that moment. What or who is Y/N thinking about now? He would give a lot to know that. And he would give everything to change the answer to his own name.

His excitement and despair grew within him every passing second.

He did not calculate exactly what happened next. Or rather, he could have guessed only in his wildest dreams. But it must be said, Oliver always had wildest dreams, which he quickly began to believe in.

"Oliver..." - the acoustics of the bathroom and the silence around gave away your secret, and the sensitive hearing of the bearer of this name picked it out unmistakably.

At that moment, the pupils of his eyes widened to their limit, as if he had just learned the most important secret of the universe, which he had longed to possess all his life. To some extent, even on the modest scale of human life and the moment, this was exactly the case.

So, yes. All this time Y/N was thinking about him. Not about Felix. Not about Farleigh. God, it was not even about Venetia or anyone else. About him. About Oliver. About Oliver Quick.

He smiled broadly at the thought that his observations, his intuition and his wildest dreams had met at a single point of truth. He knew that he hadn't made much of an impression on you in those brief meetings you had at Oxford. But you made an impression on him, and that was enough. He was good at waiting, and he was even better at planning. All this getting closer with Felix, this whole year – it was all for you first of all. He knew that you were friends, that you were the daughter of his parents' friends, and that you were often invited to stay at the Catton family estate, and he did everything to get there too. Yes, even if he didn't make a big first impression on you, even if you didn't study together, even if Felix didn't study with you and your paths didn’t cross often enough to communicate a lot at Oxford, but Oliver knew the place where all this would happen. In Saltburn.

That was why he’d been working very hard for the last two months – even if he wasn't always a good conversationalist, he was a great listener and an even better observer. You began getting closer, and he clearly caught your attention. But to what extent, even Oliver was not sure. It seemed that you communicated with Felix and Farleigh with much more ease, even flirting a little. And not only with them, in general, your ease was expressed in communicating with anyone. With anyone but him. More and more often, you began to avoid his gaze, felt visually uncomfortable, stiffed when you were alone with him, and felt a clear relief when someone joined your company. Did you really get to know him better, and the initial indifference became a constant awkwardness in his presence? Oliver was very afraid of that. And deep down he hoped that this way you could just mask your affection for him, because sometimes people do that. This was also present in him to some extent, or rather, it used to be, because Oliver Quick decided to bury his insecurity and shyness deep inside himself. He was not quite done with it yet, but oh the boy was trying, he was trying very hard. He wanted to kill everything in himself that prevents him from becoming who he desired to be and getting what he wanted. Or who he wanted.

That brief smile changed again to a soundlessly open mouth that almost gave out a groan. Oliver held his hand tightly on his crotch, holding onto the wall with his other hand so that his knuckles turned white. After that confession of yours, Oliver was ready to burst into the bathroom at the same second, but no. He would restrain himself, he would not do that. He would be smarter than Actaeon.

He was really able to keep his composure and wait for you to relax and move away from your blessed condition a little, diving into the water a little deeper and slightly closing his eyes from pleasure and calmness that came to you. He moved noiselessly to the other side of the room. He exhaled deeply. Oliver looked at the half-finished can of Red Bull that had been on Felix's bedside table near the entrance for almost a week. Now it was time to act.

You heard footsteps approaching and shivered, opening your eyes.

"Knock, knock! May I come in?" a familiar voice asked sweetly and quite lively.

"Oliver? What are you..." you started, but he interrupted you by going into the bathroom, without waiting for your invitation or even more so for a refusal.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I need to change my clothes urgently," he began guiltily, "I-I'm not looking!"

He was actually walking past you, covering his face with his hand.

"What's happened?" you asked, half rising from the tub.

"I spilled a drink on myself. It's so unsuitable, because this is a shirt that Felix recently gave me, so that I, quote, "won’t wear the same thing over and over again, otherwise it upsets mother, we're not some kind of paupers here, she said to him." This is so damn awkward," he said frustratedly.

"Yes, of course, come in. It's okay."

"Thank you, Y/N! Once again, I'm sorry for the suddenness."

Oliver disappeared and rummaged in his room for a while, and then knocked again, but this time from the side of his own door.

"Yes? Do you want to go back?"

"Yes. And no. Not quite. It seems that I need to wash my shirt right now, before the stain is completely dry..."

"Can you just leave the shirt to the maids?"

"No, no! Disturbing people at such a late hour...And again, until I find someone and get there..."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Come in... if you won’t be watching,"

"While I'm washing my shirt, I won't," Oliver smiled.

He entered the room with his eyes closed in a caricature manner and showed a white shirt with a dark yellow Red Bull stain on the shirt hanging in his outstretched arms. He was wearing white tank top and black trousers, which were only left part from his dinner costume. He also took off his shoes.

"Yeah, I see it. Maybe you can wash it with soap or something?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do now," Oliver went to his sink under a mirror, starting to wash the stain.

You didn't promise not to look. This view of him, the combination of a formal suit with something casual, formed a knot in your stomach. The white tank top that accentuated his slender torso and exposed his muscular arms so well, which were now busy doing laundry, black suit trousers that hugged his legs and ass in such a nice way, as well as the fact that he was standing barefoot in the bathroom, created a feeling of some kind of intimacy. Few people could see him like this even in this house, as if you came from some sort of gala dinner, and now you saw him in the process of changing clothes between some business. It was like you came together, and this was just your house, and that only you were allowed to see this semi-domestic, yet at the same time very sexy look. You inhaled the air quite sharply.

He didn't promise not to watch either. Therefore, the smile slipped from his face, since you did not see him from this angle, from where he could watch you through the mirror while washing his shirt, completely not looking at it. The smile faded because he could barely contain himself again. He was breathing heavily the hot and sticky air of the bathroom. Damn if only could he pounce and ravish you right now, in this very bath. Oliver was reveling in the way you were looking at him, the way you were looking at him now, thinking that he didn't notice it. Your sharp sigh was the last drop.

"Thinking about something?" Oliver asked you in an even tone.

"What? Oh, no, I just, uh..."

"It's weird, I thought I heard your voice when I first came in here. Did you talk to someone?"

"Of course not, because it's just me... and you."

"I could swear you were talking to someone..." Oliver said wistfully.

You felt the heat in the still hot bath water again, only now your face was burning. Did he hear you muttering his name? It couldn't be, could it have happened before he came in? Or did you not remember something? You were so relaxed. And now you were tensing up, afraid that he would find out your little, or rather, very, very big secret, which you were afraid to fully admit even to yourself.

"I... don't..."

Oliver sighed and stopped washing his shirt, turning to you and leaning on his table. He stared at you unblinkingly, arms crossed over his chest. You instinctively gasped and covered your chest with your hands, crossing your legs.

"My dear, I don't bite. Be a good girl and tell me who you were thinking about while lying in that bathtub, mm?"

"You promised not to look!" It seems like your face couldn't be any redder than it was now.

"I said I wouldn't look while I’d be washing my shirt," Oliver raised both hands in front of him, looking straight into your eyes, "As you can see, I'm done with it."

"But I’m not done with you at all," he thought to himself and slowly began to approach you from behind.

"Oliver, what are you-"

"Shh," he knelt down and gently put his hands on your shoulders, carefully gathering your wet hair to the center of your neck, "I won't look if you want, but let me apologize for my intrusion, I didn't mean to bother you."

He began to gently massage your shoulders, as the pads of his thumbs moved to your neck. You sighed softly and shifted your legs. It seems like both halves of your body were burning equally badly now.

"That's it, good girl," he cooed softly, exhaling hot air almost into your ear. His measured breathing burned your neck, "So, will you tell me who you were thinking about while lying in this tub?"

He asked the question as if he knew the answer to it. You wanted terribly and didn't want to tell him at the same time. It seems that even if you wanted to, the words were stuck in your throat. His long fingers began to tighten, moving slightly towards your neck. "I won't leave it until you tell me yourself." You twitched your legs again. Were you scared or did it turn you on? It seems to be both.

"And please don't hide with your hands from me, yeah? Do you know how fuckin' beautiful you are?" he took one hand off from your neck and gently pushed your hand away, taking up space under your breasts. There was a complete silence in the room. He moved a little to the left side of the tub. At that moment, your eyes met, and everything inside you turned upside down. His beautiful blue eyes were now almost dark with longing. His breathing was slow and heavy, shaking the already hot and sticky air between your faces. The tension was too strong to resist. Yes, it seems that your feelings towards each other were mutual.

Your lips slowly met, and then everything was like a blur. After a short while, Oliver sensually ran his tongue over your lower lip, asking for an invitation to come in. You opened your mouth a little more, where he immediately had slipped with his tongue, leisurely enjoying every corner of your mouth as much as possible. Then he broke the kiss in the lips just to kiss your collarbone without breaking your visual contact. You remembered that his other hand was resting under your chest, and now it began to stroke your skin and climb higher. Oliver began caressing your breasts just the way you had done before – first cupping it in his hand, and then slowly began to lead circles around your nipple until he squeezed it lightly. You cried out softly with pleasure.

"So, darling? And now you're going to tell me who you were thinking about...?"

If earlier words did not come out of you because of surprise and sensation of a slight fear, now they did not come out of you because of excitement and disbelief in what was happening in general. Oliver grinned, closing his eyes, lowering and shaking his head a bit. Then he stood up and, cupping your face in his hands, kissed you again. But this time the kiss was greedy, almost immediately his tongue penetrated you mouth, without asking for any permission now. But you didn't need it, you almost moaned into his lips in response. One of his hands moved from your cheek to your neck and began to squeeze it lightly.

After breaking the kiss, he looked at you again. It seems that now you were ready to reveal his name, but decided not to do so, to see what would happen next, gathering all the remnants of your weakening will, and silently looked at him in response. Oliver seemed to catch this mood and, giving you a dark excitement smile, took a step back, removing one hand from your throat and moving it to your inner thigh. His other hand was on your chest again. Your body covered with goosebumps under the water. He entered you with one finger, and you finally let out a real moan. Smiling with satisfaction, he added his second finger and increased the pace. The water started splashing out of the bathtub from your fidgeting and legs movements. The hand that rested on your breast began to squeeze it, and the thumb massaged your nipple rougher and rougher. You began to moan more often and louder under the caresses of your uninvited, but such a welcome guest. Perhaps it was more correct to say that you were the guest, and he was more like the host here, but your already confused thoughts were interrupted by his hoarse and authoritative voice, "Who were you thinking about lying here, touching yourself? Whose hands were you imagining at that moment?"

You just moaned in response, and he picked up the pace.

"Say the name, say it out loud"

"Oh... Oliver! It was you, Oliver."

"Yes," his eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze darkened even more, and his mouth let out a soundless moan full of satisfaction at what he had heard. He had experienced complete moral satisfaction, and now he would give you a physical one.

He bent down to you more, greedily and sloppily kissing you, without taking his hands off caressing your body, he added the third finger, and in less than a minute you came loudly under his fingers.

You were breathing heavily, just like Oliver himself. You looked at each other, both of you had a swarm of thoughts and a hurricane of feelings in your heads. "Good, sweet Y/N. I'm so glad that tonight turned out that way," he kissed you again, sweetly and almost innocently. He sat on his knees by the bath for a while and just looked at you. You started to get embarrassed again and looked away.

"I'm sorry, you probably need some time alone, and they've probably been waiting for me downstairs. The shirt still needs to be hung up to dry!" he said cheerfully, getting up from his knees, quickly taking the shirt from the sink and disappearing into his room. When he returned, you saw that he was wearing shoes again, and another shirt was thrown over his tank top.

"Have a pleasant late evening, Y/N! If you're not tired, join us in the living room," Oliver smiled at you, and then, already standing in the aisle, added quite nicely but firmly, "And if you want or need to use this room again, put your things down and take towels from my half of the bathroom, hmm?"

With these words, he left the room, leaving you in a storm of feelings and once again thinking how observant and puzzling he was sometimes, as it may not seem at first.

He was over the moon, but of course he would like to get a lot more out of you than he got today. But he knew how to wait, a good hunter should be able to do it, and today Oliver praised himself that he did it perfectly. Actaeon was considered the best out of the mortal hunters.

He was running, almost flying down the estate towards the living room. The Cattons were probably watching some nonsense there, as they always did. But he didn't care, because all his thoughts were about tomorrow night, hoping that you would come to use his bathroom again. Hoping that Venetia would occupy your bathroom again for a long enough time, and if she wouldn't, then maybe he would consider clogging of the second tub.

Oliver knew how to wait, and even better he knew how to act at the right moment.

Surely, he would surpass Actaeon himself.

[jinx-xxed]

Sick Days

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Sick fics are my absolute fav thing ever!! Also idc if they didn’t have showers just let me live in this lie, maybe they’d figure it out with magic or smth idk

Summary; Ban takes care of his overworking, sick partner.

Content; Reader is sick, pretty domestic and fluffy, Ban is very sweet, Ban plays doctor basically

Wc; 1.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

It’s late morning when you trudge down the stairs in the Boar Hat tavern, one hand holding the railing to keep yourself balanced. The day outside is gloomy, the normally bright blue sky now covered by dark gray clouds threatening rain. It matches how you’re feeling perfectly.

You’d woken up feeling like shit and as much as you’d wanted to turn over, pull the blanket over your head and ignore the day, you couldn’t. You have a mission to do with the rest of the Sins and you aren’t able to just miss it, even though your head is pounding. Your whole body feels strangely cold despite the fact you’re both a fire wizard and incredibly resistant to frigid temperatures, and all of your senses feel muffled. To top it all off, your nose is stuffy.

You find your place at one of the tables within the main room of the tavern, groaning slightly at the way your body aches any time you move. You don’t know why you were feeling like this and it’s pissing you off. You have a mission to go on, damn it, you weren’t going to let some sudden illness make you stay behind.

You barely register when food is set in front of you but you were still able to mumble a ‘thank you’ to whoever had brought it. You pick at the food and take only one or two bites, the meal putting a little warmth back into your body.

Your name is suddenly shouted loud enough to pierce through the cotton in your brain.

Your head snaps up—making the pounding in your head worse for a brief second—as your captain exclaims your name. It seems you’d been so lost in your muddled mind that you didn’t comprehend him trying to get your attention by saying your name five times. “Yes?”

“Are you feeling alright?” Meliodas asks, concern creasing the features on his face.

“I’m fine.” You say simply. Before you can react, the blond is pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. He shakes his hand when he retracts it like he got burned, a wince on his face.

“Jeez, you’re burning up.” He puts his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Well, I’m taking you out of this mission then. You’ll need to stay here.”

You stand, holding back your groan at the way your head throbs and limbs ache. “What?! I’m fine, I can go on the mission. I can’t just- I can’t stay here doing nothing.” You insist.

He looks at you with a raised brow. “I’m not letting you go on a mission like this one when you’re obviously sick, that would just be irresponsible. It’s best that you stay in the tavern and rest, alright?”

Everyone currently in the Boar Hat knows that wouldn’t happen though. Even if you’re sick, you would continue to work on whatever you could. No matter how you felt, you’d keep working. You see illness as an obstacle that you simply had to walk around and ignore, despite how bad it may be. However, if you did keep working, you would only get sicker.

Meliodas was clearly a little conflicted. He wanted his teammate to rest but he wasn’t sure if anyone else could stay behind-

“I’ll stay with her.”

Ban comes to stand beside you, putting an arm around your waist to keep you stable because you’re swaying on your feet. You don’t hesitate to lean against him.

Meliodas begins to protest, “Ban we’ll need you on this mission-“

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine without me. Besides, you want them to get better don’t you?” Ban asks with a dumb smirk on his face, knowing he’s won when the captain narrows his eyes slightly.

Meliodas sighs. “Fine, you two stay here then. Everyone else, let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.”

King and Gowther follow Meliodas out where Diane is waiting. Elizabeth goes to follow as well but she briefly pauses before you and Ban. “Sir Ban, please make sure they get better! All the medical supplies are in the bathroom upstairs.” She tells him.

“I got it, princess, don’t worry.” Ban reassures her. She nods and hurries to catch up to the rest of the group.

He then looks to you who’s leaning heavily against him now, looking half asleep where you were standing. You jolt back to full consciousness when you hear the door shut behind Elizabeth. “Alright you, why don’t you go upstairs and take a hot shower? I’ll get some soup ready.” He tells you gently.

“Mmkay.” You mumble before slowly heading upstairs.

You did as he said and got into the shower, the water scalding hot. It feels nice against your freezing body, the steam rising in the room also helping to clear your stuffy nose. You stay in there for a long while.

» ☆ «

Ban understood the fact that you were probably taking a pretty long shower, as you usually would if you’re sick, but eventually it became so long that it was almost concerning. Surely the hot water would’ve run out by now?

The soup was done so he decided to go and investigate. He heads upstairs and doesn’t hear the shower running and upon further investigation, he finds the bathroom empty. He calls your name, voice echoing down the empty hallway. He doesn’t get any kind of response. Maybe you’d fallen asleep?

He goes to the ladder attached to the attic where your room is. The trapdoor leading into the attic is open so he peeks inside, looking for his sickly comrade. He finds you in the right corner of the room closest to the door where a desk is tucked against the wall. As he pulls himself up fully into the room, he sees the papers scattered on your desk that you were attempting to read over and work on.

“Seriously?” He demands, his annoyance evident in his tone.

You jump at his voice, looking over to him. “What? These papers have to get done-“

“For fuck’s sake, you’re sick.” He goes over and lifts you out of your chair by your underarms. You let out a sound of protest but don’t fight him as he sets you down on the floor. “The damn papers can get done when you’re better. The reason you’re probably sick in the first place is because you overwork yourself, you know.”

“I’m just doing my job.” You insist.

“Well, your job can be put on hold for a little while. Now go downstairs, there’s food waiting.” He orders. You sigh but listen to him, then descending the ladder. He follows shortly after and shuts the door behind him.

You sit at one of the tables and a bowl of the soup he’d made is put in front of you, steam rising from its surface. You take your first bite, the warmth spreading throughout your body. It’s delicious. It has plenty of ingredients that make the soup full of flavor but still make it perfectly nutritious for your sick self.

“Do you like it?” Ban asks as you begin eating more of the soup. He sits next to you at the table, also giving you a glass of water.

You nod, swallowing another bite before speaking. “Yes, it’s really good. As expected of something made by you.”

He smiles at the praise, resting his cheek on his hand. “I’m glad.”

You finish the bowl of soup relatively quickly and then get seconds before you’re satisfied. Now after taking a hot shower and having the warm soup in your stomach, you’re feeling incredibly tired. Ban can tell by the way your head dips a little. He stands with a small smile, “ready to go to bed?”

“Mhm.” You respond.

He lifts you off your seat with ease, holding you bridal style. You nuzzle into his chest, eyes closing as you’re carried upstairs. He brings you into his room; that way it’ll be easier to keep an eye on you and get to you if you need anything.

He lays you gently in his bed, pulling the sheets over you with an extra blanket added on. “Do you want the cold towel for your head?” He asks softly. You nod.

He quickly goes and gets the towel which was lightly dampened and then frozen. It’s folded so it can easily fit against your forehead. A small rumble escapes from your throat in thanks as the cooling sensation brings some relief to your headache.

He’d closed the curtains beforehand and turned off the light so it was a dark as possible in the room. He kisses your cheek and brushes hair off your forehead. “Sleep well.” He murmurs before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

You curl up under the covers, perfectly content in their comfort, and let sleep finally take over.

[rose-tries-to-write]

Things I’ve learned about Danny Phantom after finally watching it as a person who avoided watching it for months and read fanfiction instead. 👍🏻✨

Spoiler warning, just in case!

They call themselves the Phandom. (Super cute, I love it, 10/10)

Everything, and I mean Absolutely Everything I’ve learned, is a fucking Lie. (Not fun. I have to rewrite my entire understanding. I feel betrayed. Offended. Gobsmacked. My flabbers are mf gasted. -5/10)

The show is actually really funny. (I enjoyed my experience. 9/10)

Fuck Phantom Planet. (What the fuck was that shit? Um, rewind, redo, no thx, give me back the ghostie boy please. I genuinely didn’t even finish the episode, I got to where he un-died and had to turn it off. I refuse to watch it now. 0/10)

The Phandom was right to steal canon and make it our bitch. (Trans Danny? More Dani/Ellie screen time? Actual plot and lore for the show? Actual in-depth thought to ghosts and their culture? Um, yes please. 1000/10)

Frostbite actually is a doctor. (I don’t know why, but I thought it was another thing the Phandom made up. Love to see it, 10/10)

Wes Weston deserves his own episode. (What do you mean he doesn’t actually exist. What do you mean I don’t get my LGBTQ+ undertones. This is homophobic /j. -10/10)

How do you tell when a ghost is intangible, invisible, or both?? (The show doesn’t have a differentiator between the two, so I’m always confused if people can just see him floating through walls. 3/10)

Guys in White literally do nothing but be annoying. (Another case of the Phandom Lying to us. I love it though, they make really good antagonists. 7/10)

The Fentons are stupid and mildly aggressive, but they do love their kids. (I read a lot of vivisection, child neglect, and general Bad Parents fics so excuse me on that front. 8/10)

Danny didn’t actually beat Pariah Dark? (I love the Ghost King Danny fics, so to find out all he did was shove him into a sarcophagus was a bit of a bummer. He struggles more with Undergrowth than the actual king, like?? 6/10)

He can reach inside himself to take things out. (He ate a spoon in one ep and just reached inside himself to take it out. Pretty cool. 9/10)

Is he actually dead? (Phantom Planet makes it seem as if he just got a bit too high a dose of ectoplasm in his system and it fucked him up, how else could he have just undone the damage? But, most of the Phandom says he legit died in the portal, in which case he could not have gone in and just un-killed himself like he did in Phantom Planet. I think he died, personally. More trauma and angst for my writing. ??/10)

Clockwork appears a lot less than I thought he would. So does Frostbite. (I thought with how much they appear in the Phandom, they must have really important and constant roles, but no. They appear very rarely. Sad face. 5/10)

Vlad sucks. (Vlad fucking sucks. 0/10)

Dani/Ellie is much younger in appearance than I thought. (I looked her up for reference when I first started reading the fics, but she looked 14-15. She actually looks 6-7 years old in show. They literally call her a kid. 8/10)

Dani is what she chose to be called, not a funny joke the Phandom played on itself. (I though it was a silly little haha moment. Nope. The show just… named her that. I think Ellie is the Phandoms choice in calling her?? 8/10)

Why is Danny obsessed with Paulina even while crushing on Sam? (He is actively blushing and flirting with Sam and then they’ll turn around and he’s jumping at the chance to talk to Paulina?? Hate it. 0/10)

Danny and Dash don’t actually date. (I saw this circle around the Phandom a bit, thought it was cute if a bit weird, and then it didn’t happen? 6/10)

No obsessions, no cores, no real reason for the ghosts to be terrorizing Amity Park. (I legit thought it was real in-verse stuff, I’m so disappointed in the lack of it in the show. It could have been so good. 3/10)

Danny doesn’t actually become friends with his ghosts. (They don’t really get along, ever. They don’t talk outside of fighting, except for those who actually like him. Missed opportunity. 4/10)

His Space obsession is actually just a few mentions of him wanting to be an astronaut? (I thought he genuinely had an obsession with the stars and we’d see a lot of him stargazing or word-vomiting about his hyper fixation, but no. Sad. 4/10)

He does go stargazing (maybe?) and flies around when he’s not fighting. (We see him going off as Phantom in the episode where Jazz finds out about him. There are no battles and he looks like he’s having fun flying around. 10/10)

He was called Inviso-Bill?? (Hilarious, I love it, why did no one ever tell me this. 7/10)

He says “Going Ghost!” every time he transforms. Every fucking time. (It’s annoying, it’s ugly, I hate it. I am so glad no fics mentioned this or used it, I think I’d go insane. -1000/10)

That’s all I got for today, and probably for a while. I just wanted to write it down for fun, but I might post more like this eventually.

[reindeerswillsavethisworld]

Corpse au case fic where the trio decided to try cracking a murder mystery, except instead of angst it's a comedy of errors where they make everything worse.

Like. Danny comes out of a portal dead and translucent and glowing, and there's charred remains of a human body on the floor. So now all three of them are freaking out, and instead of asking for help, or finding an adult, or telling literally ANYONE, they decide to just. Get rid of the body. As one does.

So that's what they do: they break out Tucker's nice shovels (because god forbid Sam's family owned something as pheasant as a shovel, and Danny's too afraid of touching their family's Patented Fenton ShovelsTM for... reasons), they find a nice desolate clearing in the woods, and then they bury Danny's body like one would a very unfortunate hamster who met their demise too soon under very suspicious circumstances. They even stay at the new "grave" in silence for a minute or five in respect and DEFINITELY nothing else, you know. And so, they bury the body, and then they (try to) forget the experience as some horrific nightmare.

And then, a year later, there's an uproar: the Amity Park's police department found the child's remains in the woods! And you see, Amity Park is not THAT big of a town, and the police estimated that the body belonged to a 14-15 year old child, and, look, there's only so many schools in a small town, alright. Obviously, the rumours start very soon in Casper High: about how the kid could've gone to their school, about how they could've died, about whether or not anybody was missing them, about their identity, and some definitely-truthworthy-would-I-lie-to-you-bro-come-on sources insist that the kid was murdered around a year ago, around the time ghosts started showing up. And these rumours obviously reach the ears of Sam, Danny and Tucker.

Now, you would've thought that their first thought would be something like "oh no, they found Danny's body", or "oh no, they know", or even simply "we're sooo fucked". Except. You see, the night they buried the body? It was really cloudy. And dark. And, y'know, it's very easy to get lost in a forest. And they were too high-strung, you see, they completely forgot to leave some sort of a marker or anything. And also like, it was so long ago, you know? A lot have happened, they were sooo busy and the likes, you can't really blame them for forgetting some things.

And here's lies the problem: all three of them just fucking forgot that there was a body left to bury at all.

And then it gets out that the police can't even conduct any sort of DNA test because it became corrupted to the point of being absolutely unrecognisable due to exposure to a large amount of ecto-energy.

It's now looks like a bad set up for a joke: an identifiable body of a child, cause of death unknown; the probable involvement of ghosts or at the very least a very large quantity of ecto-energy; a probable murderer on the loose, which naturally breeds suspicion and speculation; a town full of all kinds of rumours; and a trio of absolute dumbasses, who after hearing that ghosts were involved immediately went to stick their noses where they don't belong.

Rejoice, Amity Park! Sam, Danny and Tucker are now on the case! Except they are all teenagers, and nobody in their right mind will allow teenagers to solve a murder case. Plus, them poking around would be highly suspicious, but Phantom, on the other hand?

(people seeing Phantom helping solve this case and coming to the conclusion that the ghosts were definitely involved was not on their bingo card, but oh well)

They don't go to the cops, obviously: Danny at least in part because he's worried they will call GIW on his ass or try to arrest him, and Sam and Tucker simply because fuck the cops (one because the police is involved in a militaristic, capitalistic corrupted system that breeds injustice and furthers the divide between average people and the wealthy, and the other because cops suck and will probably call GIW on his friend's ass). They also can't go to any other authorities: cops are out of the question, as is the mayor; laboratory personnel will most likely just throw them out; and there're no witnesses or known relatives, so they're stuck.

Therefore they decide that desperate times need desperate measures, and so they enlist all of their ghost allies on a quest, hoping to find the ghost of the kid. Considering the amount of ecto-energy they were subjected to, they MUST have formed a ghost, they only need to find them.

Except. The Ghost Zone is a big place, and they only have so many allies, even if some of them are a queen and a god. So Danny bites the bullet and does the most stupid (debatable) thing he has ever done: he goes to his enemies for help. They're surprisingly understanding and willing to help, even if some of their reasons are a little... strange (Skulker and Johnny entered some sort of competition on who finds the ghost first, Box Ghost starts to seek out coffins (??) and Youngblood is not above to start torturing people to finally have a friend that is not either an adult or a complete stick in the mud). And even then they still can't find the ghost.

In the end Danny goes to Clockwork in a desperate hope that he will be able to glimpse at least a little of what had transpired on the night of the murder, and to Danny's annoyance Clockwork laughs so hard he almost pops a ghost equivalent of a blood vessel.

A few weeks down the line Sam hesitantly brings up Danny's buried corpse ("MY WHAT" "Your corpse which we buried in the woods, Danny, don't you remember?" "Yeah, bro, I think you dissociated the whole time we were digging the hole and carrying your dead body" "WE DID WHAT-"), reasonably saying that, you know, they ALSO technically buried a body in the woods. On that Tucker just shrugs because obviously it was not Danny's body, the place of the burial was way off, he remembers that there was a really big stone to the left of the grave (he doesn't and there wasn't), so they are in the clear. During that exchange Danny's sitting on the floor and having a panic attack, because he really did dissociate the whole time and afterwards legitimately forgot that there was a body to bury at all.

After that conversation all three of them leave with a certainty that Danny's body is still there where they left it, whenever it was. And so the shenanigans continue.

[des8pudels8kern]

If I were to write a Star Wars fic (which I won’t, as working full-time does not leave me with enough mental energy to be properly actively fannish), it’d be an epic AU where Obi-Wan also falls down the shaft at the climax of his fight with Maul, is presumed dead, and then pops up during the Clone Wars as a mysterious agent of chaos whose initial goal is just to rattle and provoke the Jedi into shedding at least a bit of their apathy disguised as serenity and their superiority complex (so, Obi-Wan choosing to help an entire planet of children caught in a horrific war was bad and aggressive, deserving of first repudiation and then probation, but when Knights and Masters order enslaved sentients into battle it’s duty and necessary to uphold the values of the Republic and thus Order?). He’s bitter, he’s angry, and he wants to destroy the Order. Well, the Order as it is. All talk, so little regard for actual decency, and no infrastructure in place to protect the children under their care.

There’d be a semi-humorous scene where Cody (who is... compromised, okay, he knows it, but this evil fallen force user is just different from the other evil fallen force users, okay) comes across Obi-Wan, bleeding from a fresh gash on his head (”What happened to you? - Oh, nothing, dear one; I just tripped.”) one eye clenched shut where the blood is dribbling down, yada yada, they do their usual song and dance about no, you question your allegiance and join my side, and then.

What’s that?

Cody bends down and picks up the thing that’s caught his attention. It’s round, and not quite flat, and ye--- yellow. He narrows his eyes at the infuriating pain in the ass in front of him.

“Tripped, huh? Deliberately, I assume?”

The man’s gaze flits down to the coloured lens balancing on Cody’s finger now, the exact same shade as his one open eye.

“When you arrived, the light of your presence overwhelmed me and caused me to falter. It can be quite challenging when one has delved as far into the dark as I have,” the fucker tries to lie to Cody’s face, voice as serene as the calmest of Jedi Generals fresh out of meditation, and maybe Cody needs to reconsider how trustworthy anything spoken in that tone really is.

Cody throws the lens at him, and the offending item manages to land on his chest, where blood has soaked into the shirt, and sticks to the fabric, staring at him accusingly.

“What kind of nerf-brained idiot fakes being a Sith? The entire Order is after you!”

The nerf-brain winces, then sighs and droops. He rubs a hand through his suddenly tired-looking face. The blood from his apparently actually self-inflicted head-wound that was meant to disguise the missing lens is smeared all over his cheek now, which looks ridiculous and is somewhat worrisome because Cody is used to bloodshed and knows that it’s usually not a good sign when people forget that they are bleeding. It does match the bone-deep exhaustion etched in the other man’s features, though, now that his mask of flirtatious nonchalance has dropped.

“In my defence, I honestly did not expect it to go this far.” He spreads his hands and pulls a somewhat forced-looking version of his usual boyish grin. “I assumed I would get in two, maybe three strikes before the Order went on alert and I got caught. When they didn’t, I decided to... provide further motivation.”

His right eye is grey-blue, as fathomlessly deep as the waters of Kamino, and Cody wonders what can drive a man to pretend to be evil incarnate to catch the attention of an organisation of essentially super-powered sentients in the middle of a war.

Another trickle of blood from the absolutely needless head wound snakes its way down the side of the man’s face, making it clear that, whatever his motivation might be it’s not a healthy sense of self-preservation.

Maybe Cody can get him to take out the other lens, too, so he can check his eyes for signs of a concussion.

And get a closer look at the colour.

...At least now he’s not compromised by a Sith anymore?

[bloody-cupcakes]

Okay okay, let me throw the idea out of just manipulative Yan!Veronica

Can be a fic or headcanons, whatever you want to do, but im willing to let this girl manipulate me idc!!!

-🐊

Yesss I love that idea so much!! Sorry this is a month late, I got distracted for a bit since I went on a trip to the beach with my friend and didn't get any writing done for a good couple of weeks lmao. I decided to go with both headcanons and a fic because I felt bad for making you wait for so long. Headcanons are below, the fic will be out later this week! 🥰

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, Veronica is extremely manipulative but we love her anyway, brief mentions of suicide (relevant to canon, yknow)

Veronica's one of the more covert yanderes tbh. She's not as domineering as Heather Chandler or straight up crazy like JD. At first, she just appears as your typical teenage girl who's worried about their partner. Sure, she's a little clingy, and possessive, and overly protective, but with people like Kurt and Ram out there who wouldn't be?

Her manipulation is also a lot more subtle than other people's. She's able to easily disguise it as worry, insisting that she's just trying to look out for you when it comes to parties you might want to attend or people you hang out with

She has absolutely no problem making up stories or coming up with lies in order to get you to leave certain people alone. Oh, you didn't hear that so-and-so slept with their best friend's boyfriend? Wow, I thought everybody knew that. She's so trustworthy and genuine, of course you believe her

If you ever manage to catch her in a lie, she's quick to turn it around on you or act as if she has no idea what you're talking about. She'll pretend that she got this information from a second hand source, so naturally it couldn't be all true, but at least some of it has to be, right? So it's still better for you not to hang out with this person, just in case

It's even harder to see what she's doing as manipulation given the fact that her worries aren't entirely baseless. There are plenty of awful people in the school, and it wouldn't be too far-fetched to believe that she truly does want to protect you. She may be a bit excessive, sure, but that's only because she doesn't want to see you get hurt

When I say she limits the people you're "allowed" to hang out with, I mean that. Heather McNamara is okay, and maybe Heather Duke, but Heather Chandler is off limits, and don't even think about going anywhere near Kurt and Ram (not that you'd want to, because ew)

Even Martha Dunstock is a perfect candidate for a friend, because she never hangs out with anyone else anyway, which means no one will bother you two. And by bother I of course mean give you any sort of attention

JD is a bit of a toss up. Veronica trusts that he'd never let anything happen to you, but she also knows that he always ends up finding trouble no matter where he goes, intentional or not, so you'll typically only hang out with him if Veronica is also there to keep an eye on him

Overall, she's a great girlfriend! If you don't mind only hanging out with people that she trusts to keep an eye on you or occasionally getting caught up in her and JD's passionate discussion about "ridding the world of popular filth" and all that. But that's nothing to worry about, I'm sure. Even if the eventual suicides of Heather Chandler and Kurt and Ram did seem a bit suspicious...

[brigdh]

for the WIP ask meme: would love a sneak peek of "Ed incompently comforting Stede"

The WIP meme!

Thank you!

I was having a discussion about how, too often, in fic Ed and Stede are both excellent at knowing the exactly correct therapy-speak thing to say to each other, whereas in canon they're more likely to fumble and misunderstand and get things wrong at first. And I really want more of the second version!

So I wrote a little thing where comfort is difficult but they get there in the end. The set-up is that Stede experienced some sort of sexual harassment from bullies as a child (I didn't bother to figure out the details, so it's all left vague), and has told Ed about it, but Ed didn't grasp how much it affected Stede at first, since Stede was doing his usual self-deprecating thing. I'll post the whole thing below, because this is one of my abandoned drawerfics; I didn't want to write out any of that setup or the climax afterwards, so the only part of the story that exists is the comfort itself. Also this is set in a vague post-S1 reconciliation period.

(Extremely minor noncon mentions)

Ed opens his eyes to darkness, at first not quite sure why he’s awake. After a moment, he hears it again – a soft, muffled sound, like a gasp or a sob. 

Ed sits up and peers over the back of the settee. It’s dark in the captain’s (captains’, now) cabin, but the bed is up against a pane of windows and he can make out the silhouette of Stede’s form, curled up into a small ball, shoulders shaking. 

Ed’s by the side of the bed in an instant. “Stede, mate,” he says in a whisper, “what’s the matter? Bad dream?”

“Oh, Ed! Nothing’s the matter, you don’t need to bother–"

“Yeah, I think I fucking do. You’re crying.”

“Nope, no. Me, crying? Nah. Probably an owl.”

Ed pauses, the covers held up to slide beneath and one leg already on the bed. “An owl.”

“Mm-hm!”

“Stede, we’re a hundred miles from land and you’re telling me I heard an owl.”

“Could be an albatross, then!”

Ed remains frozen in place long enough to hear what is definitely a sniffle, then stands up and slaps the covers back into place. “Sure, whatever. Just fucking lie right to my face, then, s’not like I fucking care." Technically Stede hasn’t, since he’s still curled up facing the windows, but Ed isn’t about to give him a pass for that reason.  

“Ed!” Stede sits up and twists around, but Ed is already stomping back to the settee. “It is nothing, really, I was just being foolish–"

Ed throws himself onto the settee, where at least the back is high enough that he doesn’t have to look at Stede, or watch Stede not looking at him. “Bet if I fetched the boy Stede would tell him,” he says entirely to himself in what is not a pointedly loud tone. “Bet he knows all the right fancy words to say because he’s not a stupid pirate.”

“Ed, please, don’t wake anyone else up. I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to hear me.”

“I bet you’d tell your fucking wife!”

There’s a silence in the cabin then, one that seems to ring with Ed’s shout. It’s broken only by a very quiet sniffle.

Shit. Shit. Ed’s heart sinks. Shit. That was definitely too far. He’s so bad at this. Very slowly, feeling like absolute trash, he raises his head and peeks over the top of the settee. Stede’s sitting on the edge of the bed, bare feet brushing the floor. He’s got a sheet drawn around him like an improvised robe, and he’s staring down at his lap.

“‘M sorry,” Ed whispers.

Stede simultaneously shrugs and nods, which seems like they cancel each other out, leaving Ed with no idea what it means. Stede scrubs at his face with one fist, draws a deep breath, then puts his shoulders back. “Yes, well, if it makes you feel better, I didn’t tell Mary, actually.” 

Ed swallows. That should be enough, should satisfy him, but he really wants to know. He’s greedy, when it comes to Stede. “Didn’t tell her what?”

Stede pulls the sheet tighter around his shoulders. “The, the thing. That happened. I did tell you. I haven’t been trying to keep secrets, Ed. Even though I know it shouldn’t matter so much, I know I’m being childish and foolish and weak-willed, but-"

“Stede. What thing? What are you talking about?” Ed pulls himself fully upright to lean over the back of the settee, but he doesn’t go back over to the bed, as much as his skin itches with wanting to touch Stede. He’s afraid closing the space between them will break the spell. 

Stede cringes, his shoulders going up and his face lowering even further down. “The sex thing,” he says, quietly enough that Ed can barely make out the words. “You know. When – when it was bad.” 

“That’s why you’re crying?”

Stede looks sharply to the side, chin up and held tight. “You don’t need to say anything about it. I’m already aware that I shouldn’t let it bother me.”

“Who says it shouldn’t bother you?” Ed lets his fingers dig into the upholstery of the settee and his voice go cool, ready to destroy whoever’s been upsetting Stede.  

Stede whips around to stare at him. “You did!”

“What?” Ed rears back in surprise. “No, I didn’t!”

“You said it happened all the time! You said it was common!”

“I meant you weren’t alone!” Ed draws in a shaky breath, trying to claim back control over himself. “Fuck, Stede, lots of fucked-up things happen all the time. Lots of common things are just – fucking terrible, mate.”

Stede is silent for a long moment. Ed wants him to say something, but at least he can make out enough of Stede’ silhouette to see it’s gone a bit softer, no longer looking like he’s so stiff that he might snap into two. Finally, Stede says quietly, “Well, I’m sure none of the others are still crying about a thing that happened over thirty years ago.”

Ed thinks about Jack, who used to have nightmares whenever he went to sleep sober. He never said what they were about, but he’d whimper behind clenched teeth and thrash hard enough to dump Ed out of their shared hammock, and one time when Ed sneaked up behind him, Jack had nearly gutted him before he realized who it was. He thinks about a whore he’d been fond of for a while, visiting her every time they stopped in Port Royal. Sometimes when Ed arrived, she’d have bruises. Not on her hips or thighs, which might just have been evidence of too good of a time – Ed’d had those sorts of bruises himself – but a black eye, or a split lip, or once a dark ring around her upper arm. He’d asked about that one, and she’d just shown him her teeth, more of a snarl than a smile. The nights she had bruises, he paid her just to let him sleep in her bed – which he did sometimes anyway – and left her extra coin in the morning and they didn’t talk about it. And then one time he went back and she was gone and no one would say where.

Ed thinks about how small the house he’d grown up in was, and the noises he’d hear at night sometimes from his parents’ bed. He hadn’t know what it meant, at the time, but looking back his mom’s smile on the mornings after now made him sick to his stomach.

“Maybe it’d have been better if they did cry,” Ed says. 

Stede just shakes his head.

“Look, man, aren’t we supposed to be doing this shit together, now?” Ed tries. 

“Important things,” Stede says. “Not my silly little problems.”

Ed gets up and moves partway to the bed. He’s wearing a nightshirt Stede gave him, which he’s got to admit is more comfortable for sleeping than his leathers, but there’s no pockets and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to put them on Stede, but he thinks it’s not the right time for that, not yet, maybe not ever if he can’t figure out where Stede’s head is at. “You hold me, when I cry,” Ed says. “’S nice.” 

It’s more than nice; the last time Ed was sobbing and howling into Stede’s shoulder, it had felt like Stede’s grasp was the only thing keeping him breathing through it, like if Stede had let go Ed might have just been done for. It’s part of the reason Ed forgave him so quickly, far quicker than he’d meant to. But he was pretty sure if he’d had to cry alone one more time it might have literally killed him, and he wanted Stede to hold him so badly that he’d have done anything for it, and so in the end it was goodbye, Ed’s pride, hello, Stede’s arms. 

But he doesn’t need to say that. He’s already being enough of a clingy bastard tonight. “Okay, so, you don’t want me to hold you. Or talk about it. Great, got that. But don’t you – don’t you want anything from me, man?” Ed bites back a groan at himself; yeah, real well done with the not sounding needy. 

Stede looks up at him, and they’re at just enough of an angle to one another that his eyes catch a flash of moonlight and Ed can see them, wet and bright and dark, and it sends another jolt of longing through his chest.  “Ed, I just – I want to be enough for you. I want to be strong, to be a real partner for you.” His voice goes thin, unshed tears tightening his throat. “I’m so afraid that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“Fuck, Stede.” Ed can’t hold back; he clambers onto the bed and grabs Stede’s face in both hands and kisses him all over it, peppering his forehead and cheeks and the damp corners of his eyes with short little pecks. “I love you so fucking much, you don’t even fucking know how much, it’s just ridiculous. I want all of you, okay? I want every fucking thing. I want the bad shit and the embarrassing shit and the shit that makes you burn up with shame. I want it.”

Stede huffs a shaky laugh and tucks his face into Ed’s neck. “I’m going to get snot on your nightshirt,” he warns.

“Love that. Fucking great, snot. Gimme all the snot you got, man, I want that too.” Ed digs his fingers into Stede’s hair and holds him tightly in place, feeling Stede’s hot wet breaths against his skin.  

It takes a while for Stede to cry, though he'd seemed close to tears a moment ago. Ed pulls him in and Stede lets him, even curls up a bit to lean against Ed's chest, but his body’s still tense, nowhere near pliant. They sit like that in silence for several minutes. 

The first sob is loud and harsh, sounds like it's ripped from Stede's throat, but right after he goes quiet again. It takes Ed a second to realize that he's working so hard to contain the tears that he's stopped breathing, every muscle on him gone rigid with the effort of keeping control. His lungs can't hold on for long, of course, and soon another rough sound escapes - more of a gasp than a sob, really - before Stede clamps down again. It goes on like that, individual sobs that fight their way out between taut silences. Ed presses his hand down on Stede's scalp and puts his other arm around his back, holding on as tightly as he can. He gets a leg up on the bed behind Stede, presses that into him too, folding as much of his body as he can manage around Stede's, wishing he could entirely envelop him, keep him safe and secret from the rest of the world.

Stede's staccato crying gradually gets the better of him, the gasps coming closer and closer together until they blend into steady weeping. Ed holds him through it, muttering shit that doesn’t mean much but that he hopes sounds good anyway – “I got you” and “let it out” and “you’re okay”. He clings hard to Stede like Ed’s the one on the verge of being swept away, though Stede doesn’t cling back; Stede keeps his hands to himself, one half-covering his own mouth in a futile attempt to muffle his sounds. Ed tries not to let that bother him. It helps that it’s his shirt collar that’s soaking up Stede’s tears, sticking against his skin as the cloth grows damp and then wet. 

***

[hausofmamadas]

This was one of those things where like I thought I was keeping my cool until about halfway through when all semblance of cool was lost, and then I promptly realized I actually have no cool to begin with? Anyway, this broke me, so thanks

═

✷ If his brother was the only friend that he had ...

the way my first thought was “Uhhhhh....... no but he is KEKW”

✷ You knew he wanted to travel, like you. Loved dogs, like you. Wanted to be a better person than either of you had managed yet.

TO BE A BETTER PERSON THAN EITHER OF YOY HAD MANAGED YET. OMG PLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLS TELL READER IS AS MORALLY CORRUPT AS CORAL I WILL LITERALLY BOW AT YOUR FEET SKSJS

✷ I don’t give back as much as I should, he’d say. You ever try to balance it out? The good and the bad?

Sorry dhdhdhsb this is fucking sending me bc like I know what Moi means but the way this is phrased, like Moi, amor, you can’t just donate to your local Red Cross Organization and hope that tips the scales in the literal battle between Heaven and hell for your soul but like tu corazón está en el lugar correcto, si me sientes sksks

✷ You knew him like that, and it was enough. You knew him enough.

The way in shaking my head rn just “gorl, te lo juro, you absolutely know this man enough. You do not need to know about the depth of his Crimes”

✷ ‘No.’ He pouted, head shaking. ‘Solo quiero verte.’

OH GREAT bc just when I was thinking to myself like, “fuck yeah, keeping my shit together, this post isn’t gonna be totally unhinged,” YOU HAD SUCKER PUNCH ME IN THE NUTS WITH “solo quiero verte” LIKE THE MONSTER YOU ARE

✷ You let him live in the secret of it, the pretence that this was normal, that he just wanted to see you.

GODDDDDDDDDPDOKAKSKDJEJSJS OKAY THE PRETENSE OF IT???!!!!!?? Like im gonna be real rn, i have no idea what’s going to happen or what’s going on which you know I love, right but something about the fact that like Reader has to pretend nothing’s off, ignore that gut instinct and lean into the lie that this guy they’re into just really wants to see them and like knowing Moi, im sure he does but BY GODDDDD THERES SOMETHING REALLY FICKING HEART STIRRING ABOUT THIS AND I CANT TELL IF OM GONNA BE REALLY HAPPY OR REALLY SAD AT THE END OF THIS BUT WHO TF AM O KIDDING BC OFC IM GONNA BE SAD BC ITS FUCKING WHUMPRIL

✷ ‘Bad night?’

His head shook, elbows on the arms of his chair, fingers linking in the space above his lap. ‘No worse than usual.’

‘Wow. Is that why we don’t talk about it?’

OH GOOD GOTDAMN OKAY FIRST OFF INCREDIBLE DESCRIPTION OF MOi’s PHYSICALITY HERE????????? Like he’s basically got his elbows up, steepling his fingers like a regular James Bond villain but ngl, i hate the phrase “steeples fingers” in any serious context bc i do it only in like joking contexts but any time I’m writing a fic and wanna describe it, i Can never summon a better description and you just laid it out so simple right there and I’m just— BABBLING OKAY, YES, BUT ALSO LEARNING. SEXONDLY, I AM CLUTCHING MY CHEST AT RHIS bc like there’s something so meta about the fact that like Reader is sort of coming to the realization that he might actually be super dangerous but simultaneously trying to put that on a shelf in some deep, dark corner of their brain bc there are so many good things about Moi least of which, he happens to be like hellfire levels of hot, foine asf

✷ Why work was off-limits, why questions were never met with answers. Why he disappeared once the sun set, and came back before he’d slept, just to see you.

Oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh sheeeeeeeit, i see what tf yku did there, seeing it, loving it, learning it, taking notes, and tipping my hat to you bc you know I’m weak for any kind of literary symmetry????

✷ ‘Go away with me.’ It wasn’t a question at all. ‘Tonight.’

Brooooooooooooooo WTFFFFFFFJDJJF WHY IS THERE SOMETHING SO IMPACTFUL ABOJT “It wasn’t a question at all” ?????? like someone explain to me wtf it is about that that SLAPS TO THE FUCKING MOON AND BACK THO

✷ From the desperation in his eyes, the fear—a new emotion, one you’ve never seen in his features—fear, and worry, and fast-waining hope.

OHHHHH FUCK ODD WITH THE FAST WANING HOPE, OHHHHHHHB I ACTUALLY HATE YOU FOR MAKING ME FEEL SMYTHING FOR THIS MANNNNNNN OTHER THAN SHEER LOATHING AND DISDAIN. Godddd fast waning hope...... Jesus

✷ You didn’t know him, you didn’t know him enough. Something was catching up at last, biting at your heels. Chasing him away from you.

BBGORL THATS CALLED YOUR LIMBIC BRAINSKSKSKS SHE TELLING YOU TO BLINK TWICE IF YOUR IN TROUBLE, SHE TELLING YKU TO RUN, NOT WALK TO THE NEAREST EXIT, SHE TELLINF YOU NOT TO PUT YOUR ASS ON THE LINE FOR THIS ADMITTEDLY STUPID UNGODLY LEVELS OF SEXY MAN

✷ ‘Please,’ he reasoned again, whispering now, ‘we could have something good. Real.’ He squeezed your hand. ‘Normal.’

Man this shit reallt speaks to the core of him as a character, i feel like bc truly, he wants to be normal so badly but doesn’t know how, to the extent that he can’t see this is the most abnormal way to establish a relationship and therefore, the lack of normal foundation makes it nearly impossible to be normal also ngl typical pendejo, expecting Reader to just pick up and leave with no prior warning, just bc he’s telling them to, is very on brand for him but also like imjustsosorry papi, it doesn’t matter how much of a freak between the sheets you are, I’m only hitting the streets to save my own ass at the end of the day just sayin

✷ You need time to think about it, you wanted to say, but that was taken from you like everything else.

LET👏🏽ME 👏🏽DO 👏🏽TELL 👏🏽YOU👏🏽 THE WAY MY STOMACH DROPPED AT THIS

✷ It just was, it happened, and you were there, heart jumping like they’d stabbed you with an EpiPen, and then it stopped. Just like that. No building collapse, no screams. Quiet in place of chaos ...

this is one of those paragraphs that just makes me want to stomp around and throw a temper tantrum like a 5 year old whose parents won’t buy them another piece of funnel cake at the carnival, okay. Like the Epi-pen line!!?????????)!!!? PROSE. Quiet in place of chaos ??????!???? A FUCKING BANGER OF A TITLE FOR A FIC AND ALSO ACTUAL PROSE

✷ He disappeared before you could ask why, arm reaching for the gun you’d never noticed, sitting in the waistband of his jeans.

God it really is so fucking fascinating how this is all almost becoming demystified for Reader like the gun in his waistband, the fact that he always carries it, it’s presumably in plain view like it is on the show, and they still didn’t notice it just speaks so much to how much work Reader has put into not seeing these things and therefore not knowing him really. Like the lack of knowing is almost by design

✷ He’s crazy. That’s what you decided ....

DJDKDKDKSKJSJSSJSJSJJSJSJDJSNOOOOO BC I BUSTED UP LAIGHING SO GODDAMN HARD AT THIS FOR SOME REASON LIEK AKSKSJSJS they can’t wrap their head around wtf’s happening and the easiest piece of driftwood to latch tf onto, in this freezing, storming ocean is just “ohhhhh, oh. I see what’s happening here. This mf is just NUTS”

✷ Maybe he was crazy, maybe he was someone you shouldn’t be spending time with, or dreaming about, maybe you should have never met him at all—it didn’t matter. You still didn’t want to hear the gunshot that killed him.

YIU STILL DIDNT WANT TO HEAR THE GUNSHOT THAT KILLED HIM— I MEAN— -9/9/$:$2!/9:99;8-9-0:&,!/1&-9:9;$!29/;&/0:$322.:2:9; wiwoejr rkwpsbdkwkeosbwwowiwodpsoslwnns NO BC MAYBE READER DOESNT WANNA HEAR THE GUNSHOT THAT TAKES OUT MOI BUT YOU WERE ALL TO HAPPY TO DELIVER THE GUNSHOT AND LISTEN GLEEFULLY AS IT FUCKING EXPLODES MY BRAIN BC TBATS WHAT RHIS LINE IS!!!????????? ITS A BULLET, ITS A THREAT???? ITS A DECLARATION OF WAAAAARRRRR OWKY????

✷ ‘It’s okay,’ he said, reaching for your face. ‘It’s me.’ ... It was him, yes, but what did that even mean anymore?

AS I LAY DYING ON THE GROUND, SPLAYED OUT IN FRONT OF YOU, A COMPLETE SOBBING, BLOODY MESS, PLEADING FOR MERCY BUT NOOOOOOEOEJEJEJSJE YOU JUST HAD TO COME OVER HERE AND CURB STOMP ME WITH THIS HEADY SHIT AS WELL BC YOUR BLOODLUST KNOWS NO FUCKIJG BOUNDS AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELFNSKSJSB

✷ ‘Where?’ You were whispering, voice crumbling around each word. ‘Go where?’

“Voice crumbling around each word” whatever I hate you but also, the way my foolish brain was like “Montenegro?? *cringe smile* Mayyybeeeee????” and then I immediately remembered who I was and what I was reading and what month this was written for and the definition of whump and what it means to suffer and promptly my nose fell off and my head deflated like that Squidward gif I always send you

✷ You couldn’t blink, you couldn’t move. The keys in your hand felt like a grenade, pin pulled, victims pending.

I mean— as if my condition couldn’t be any worse. PIN PULLED, VICTIMS PENDING ???????? OH JUDT FUCK IT ALL, SINCERELY FUCK IT ALL TO SHIT *throws pen down, scoots chair away from table, collapse on ground, melting, screaming*

✷ You stared at him. Twenty minutes earlier, you did. The day before, you did. But then, on the floor of the café-turned-trench, you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Once again, the listing of these impactful things, similar to the wuestionint in the beginning is like thematically poignant bc it’s like moments of complete suspicion vs complete trust which is so fucking genius, I’m actually smacking you with a giant mallet like one of those Strongman/high strike carnival games and believe you me, the bell at the top is a-ringing but then also like again, just poetically, prose-wise whatever tf, it flows beautifully and I just hate you and it’s fine

✷ You can’t imagine it, or re-live it now, no matter how hard you try.

DONT DO IT, DONT DO THE FUCKING THIGN THAT I KNOW YOURE GONNA DO BC YOU HAVE TO, BC THATS THE LITERAL ASSIGNMENT BUT IM STILL BEGGING YOY DONT YOU FUCKIJG DARE

✷ ... eyes on your feet, because you weren’t about to trip and fuck it all up.

SKSKS snorted so loud at this bc isn’t it just the realest thing

✷ You found him in the rear view mirror, watched him take a shot before twisting and crouching behind an upturned table ... it was like watching a soldier in the field. No army greens, but all of the control, the composure. He’d done it all before.

OHHHHH BC YOU KNOW I LOVE ME SOMEONE WHO KNOWS THEIR WAY AROUNDNA FUCKING GUN, THAT IS A RIGHT BIT OF MY BABY BOY THERE YOU-KNOW-WHO, IM NOT GONNA BE INSUFFERABLE BY EVEN SAYING IT

✷ And you go.

You put the car into gear, leaving him and the gunshots behind.  

If I didn’t know there was a part two, I’d literally be taking my phone and breaking it in half and rage-dancing on the pieces, whilst screaming obscenities into the popcorn ceiling of my apartment skskskske bc I would’ve assumed you’d DONE THE THING I EXPRESSLY SAID NOT TO DO but there’s at least another 2500 words for me to devour before that inevitably happens KEKW

the other man

moisés (sky rojo) x gn!reader, angst/action, 2610 words

canon typical violence and action

for day 15 of whumpril: flinching & ‘do you trust me?’

a/n: admittedly, i haven’t finished the show yet, so don’t have the full scope of moi’s timeline but.. when has that ever stopped me from putting a guy in a situation before? im moulding the blorbo how i like <3

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc​ (you guys must b sick of this kjdfhg)

You knew him without ever really knowing him. In the outskirts of things. You didn’t know his job, or where he grew up. Didn’t know how his parents were, if they were alive still, or married. If he had cousins or nephews. If his brother was the only friend that he had—if that’s who he spent all his evenings with, where he went after dark. You didn’t know him at all, in that sense.

But you knew him in the mornings. In the sun, arm raised to shield his eyes. Opposite you at the café of his choosing. You knew that he liked a pastel de nata with his coffee, and sitting outside, even when the wind picked up. Newspapers curling around the table legs.

You knew he wanted to travel, like you. Loved dogs, like you. Wanted to be a better person than either of you had managed yet.

I don’t give back as much as I should, he’d say. You ever try to balance it out? The good and the bad?

You knew him like that, and it was enough. You knew him enough.

Keep reading

[dingusfreakhxrrington]

More Than A Feeling, 23

pairing: eddie munson X fem!reader

fic summary: life only gets harder for y/n wheeler when she develops a friendship with the town freak, eddie munson. as one of the most popular girls at school she should absolutely not be associating with the likes of eddie but she couldn’t help but feel more herself when he's around. what will happen when she finds herself struggling with the expectations put on her by her friends, catching feelings for the local freak, and finding herself swept up in the latest town mystery?

chapter warnings: mentions of injury, mentions of death, spoilers for the end of vol. 2 (duh), mentions of impending doom, a pretty angsty chapter

chapter word count: 2k

song of the day: the morning fog, kate bush

chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, more coming soon...

read on ao3 here | masterlist | playlist

Chapter 23

The quiet beeping of the machine beside your bed was the first thing you heard when you finally woke up. Your body was sore and your head was heavy, so heavy, as you lay there, almost unmoving.

You groaned, scrunching your eyes before you tried to open them. The light was dim but it still stung, amplified by the painkillers that were still swimming through your system.

“Y/n? Y/n! Mom! Mike!”

“N-Nancy?” Your voice was dull, drained in every way as you finally started to regain consciousness.

When the room that had originally been nothing but a blur of shapes and colours finally came into focus, you recognised the faces around you. Your mom, Mike and Nancy were all there, your father likely out somewhere with Holly so that she didn’t have to see you in the rough shape you were in.

They all looked worried, the panic in their eyes not resting for even a moment as Nancy took hold of your hand, squeezing it as you finally came to.

“Eddie,” your eyes widened and you scrambled to sit up, remembering what you had been doing before you’d passed out, “Where’s Eddie?”

Your chest was heaving, your heart weighing heavy within it as you looked between Mike and Nancy.

“That Munson boy?” your mom questioned, seeming confused as you began to climb out of the hospital bed.

“He’s in intensive care but he’s okay, y/n. Just lie back down, please?” Nancy tried to coax you, her hands the only thing holding you steady as she tried to sit you back down.

You pushed against her, knowing there was no way you were going to be able to rest until you saw him. “No. I- I need to see him. I need to know he’s okay. Nance, please.”

“Okay, okay. Mike, help?”

Your mom seemed a little dazed but she didn’t stop your brother or sister from moving to hold your arms, helping you walk along as you headed for the door. She followed behind you as the three of you slowly made your way down the hall.

When the doctor spotted you and came over to check everything was okay, your mom was the one to intervene, making sure the doctor didn’t stop you in your search for Eddie.

She’d never met Eddie and from what she’d heard about him on the news, she wasn’t particularly fond of him, but Nancy had made sure to tell her that it was Eddie who’d saved you. Eddie was in as bad a way as he was because he was trying to protect you.

She didn’t like him but she didn’t know him and from what Nancy had said, she knew you loved him. So, for now, she’d let you go to him.

When you arrived at his room, body limping along with most of your weight being carried by Mike and Nancy, you were surprised to see two cops stationed outside the door.

Just as you thought they wouldn't let you in, they glanced between the three of you before letting Nancy open the door.

The room was deathly quiet and shrouded in darkness but through the shadows, you could see him. He was completely unmoving and, for a moment, a lump caught at the back of your throat.

“You must be y/n.”

The voice that spoke didn’t belong to Eddie but rather the man who was sitting beside him. You recognised him right away, knowing it had to be his uncle despite the fact that you had never met him before.

Nancy and Mike helped you into the room, only moving away when you signalled to them that you were okay to walk on your own. They left you alone to speak with Wayne, both returning to your mother who was already waiting patiently outside.

Every step still hurt, the wounds that littered your body stinging every time you moved even an inch. Your wounds only paled in comparison to Eddie’s. That you could see the moment you were close enough to make out his bandaged-wrapped torso.

“Is he…?”

“Sleeping. They’ve got him on some strong anaesthetics for the pain. He’s only come around a couple of times and barely been conscious enough to speak.”

You nodded as you moved to stand beside Eddie, reaching out to brush your fingers through his hair.

Just looking at him brought tears to your eyes, though you weren’t sure whether they were happy or sad. Perhaps a bit of both. Happy that he was alive but sad to see him in such a state.

“He mumbled your name a few times in his sleep, think he’s worried about you.”

Wayne stood up and offered you his seat, which you accepted as you took Eddie’s hand, squeezing it slightly in hopes that he would know that you were there. “He shouldn’t be worried about me, I’m fine. He… He’s…”

“The doctors said he’s already pulled through the worst of it. He’s going to be okay, thanks to you I hear.”

You turned to Wayne with furrowed brows, silently asking him what he meant as you slowly rubbed your thumb across the back of Eddie’s hand.

“They told me what’s really been going on. That he got hurt fighting those Demobat things? That kid Dustin told me you ran after him and dragged Eddie to safety, that you wouldn’t leave him no matter what.”

“He… He went back in like an idiot. He wanted to buy us more time even though he knew they’d kill him. I… I couldn’t leave him there alone. I...”

Wayne rested his hand against your shoulder, reassuring you without needing to speak a word.

You took a deep breath, letting the tears fall as you held Eddie’s hand even tighter, wishing you could speak to him for even a moment.

“My boy’s always had a kind heart. I knew he didn’t kill that girl,” a heavy sigh fell from his lips, “I just wish I could have been there for him through this… So, thank you. Thank you for bein’ there when I couldn’t.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s this town. They didn’t give him a chance, they painted him as the villain long before any of this even happened.”

The more you thought about it the angrier you grew. Eddie wasn’t in so much pain just because of Vecna but also because of the town. He fought for a town that hated him. He’d been forsaken by Hawkins years before Will even went missing.

For his whole life, Eddie had been a freak — an outcast — and now he was paying for the kindness he still showed those who’d discarded him.

“Miss Wheeler? We need to take you back to your room to run some tests and check your injuries.”

You looked back over your shoulder, taking in the doctor that stood in the doorway for only a moment before turning back to Eddie with worry in your eyes. You didn’t want to leave him, you wanted to be there when he next woke up.

Although you knew he was okay you needed to see it for yourself. You needed to see him open his eyes.

Wayne squeezed your shoulder once again. “Go on, I’ll be here with him, don’t worry.”

Although you wanted nothing more than to see him the doctors were strict about you staying in your room until you’d fully recovered. So, for the next two days, you stayed put in your room.

Your family and friends came to visit. Holly hugged you so tightly that it opened some of your stitches, thankfully only the minor ones though. Even your dad looked worried, showing emotion for what might be the first and last time in his life.

Steve and Robin stopped by after visiting Max. That was a tough conversation, one that shattered what was left of your heart into a thousand tiny, bloody pieces.

After all of that, it had been for nothing. Max had died but, by some miracle, she’d started to breathe again. Her arms and legs were broken, exactly like Chrissy’s when she was attacked, and her eyes… She was never going to see again, that much the doctors could confirm.

Other than her sight and broken bones there wasn’t much else they could say. She was in a coma and, in all honesty, they weren’t sure if she was ever going to wake up. Not that anyone was going to give up on her.

Joyce had already jumped in and offered to help pay the medical bills. Steve, Robin and Nancy were all chipping in too. Each of them wanting to do whatever they can to keep Max safe and alive, giving her as much time as she needs before she wakes up.

First Eddie and now Max. It wasn’t fair, none of it was. You’d have given anything to have taken either of their places. No matter how much you tried not to blame yourself you couldn’t help but feel like it should have been you in intensive care and not them.

It wasn’t fair that you were making a speedy recovery, looking as though you’d only need to spend a few more days in the hospital before you’d be allowed to go home.

Nancy had noticed the change in your mood. She could see how crushed you were but all she could do to comfort you was reassure you that the doctors would tell you the moment Eddie was well enough for you to see him.

There was a silver lining amongst it all, however, because it turned out Hopper was alive. Not only was he alive and back in Hawkins but he had managed to clear Eddie’s name.

His contact in the FBI made a public statement confirming that their investigation into the murders had come to a close. They’d pinned the murders on Jason, saying he had done it all to frame Eddie.

It seemed easy enough for them to blame Jason. He did hate Eddie after all and the fact that he was secretly hanging out with Chrissy only further added to the rumours.

Instead of rumours that Eddie was the leader of a satanic cult, now the rumours compared him to Romeo with Chrissy serving as his Juliet. Although even those rumours were false, you were glad that he was no longer a wanted man. A part of you did feel somewhat sad that all of the blame had been pushed onto Jason but you knew it was better him than Eddie.

Jason had died in the earthquake, of course, after trying to kill you and Eddie. That was what they had told the public, how they’d explained your unusual wounds. It was all the earthquake and Jason as far as anyone else was concerned.

Despite the clearing of his name, there was still a need for the cops outside of Eddie’s room.

Not everyone believed the story that Jason had done it all to frame Eddie and, amongst all of the chaos that had stemmed from the earthquakes, plenty of reporters were still more than eager to speak with Eddie about the whole ordeal.

The cops were there to keep those people away so that Eddie was safe and had a proper chance to recover before being bombarded with questions.

Not that there would be much room for rest, as you’d soon been informed.

Hawkins was changing, parts of the Upsidedown spilling out of the cracks that had been left behind by the gates. Plants and wildlife were dying, decaying in the areas closest to the gates and it was spreading, albeit slowly.

There was time but no one knew just how much. A war was coming to Hawkins. A war that was going to destroy everything you had left. The end of everything.

Still, even with all of that darkness looming over you, all you could think about was Eddie. All you wanted to do was see him and hold him. In the face of the end, you just wanted him to be by your side.

previous chapter | next chapter (coming soon...)

feel free to let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my taglist!

taglist: @ofherscarlettwitchways @chipster-21 @valentina111 @ordinarylokix @hellv1ra @mvnsons-slvt @beepisbeep @imagine-all-the-imagines @ilikewomendealwithit @doritoinflation @sweetpeapod @sherxoo @capricorn-nightmare @kbakery @efvyqrs @lonelysupernova @rainbowsinthedarkdio @harrys-stan @ruinedbythehobbit  @chloance9606 @tanyaherondale @sunfairyy @valeria-vs @juni24-7 @dragqueen-eddie @bellegirl16 @shelbyraesaw56 @vio111a @munsonlcve @critical-arsene @fujiihime​ 

[burnedbyshoto]

go the distance

(will you) go the distance

— You’re perfectly content in life except for the fact that you are not dating Deku. When his best friend won’t help you out, you turn to the dark side to get what you want.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: pro hero!midoriya izuku x bad villain!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, manga spoilers, pro hero!au, villain!reader, ofa usage for sex lol, size difference, manhandling, public sex, slight degradation and praise, deku eats his cum outta ya pussy, big dick deku, corruption but make it opposite, deku is a pervert change my mind

word count: 12,715

a/n: well, yall already knew I wanted to make this fic a reality, so here it is for bnharems villain collab!! check out all the already amazing stories if you haven’t already. thank you to kara, sky, and jo for reading this for me because lmao im ass rn. I’m gonna go to bed because I partied a bit too hard last night.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

your quirk: distortion – can make afflicted persons vision shift 6 cm to the left or right at the cost of having their own vision shift the same way

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcasted rumors of a villain running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures, and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. 

“Road maintenance endeavors to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. 

“Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? 

“Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved, but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city, please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.”

The female reporter closes her eyes, despite still being on the air, her eyebrows furrowed as she exasperatedly sighs.

“Was that good enough, Mirage?”

You look at her with a pout, your eyes then clenching shut as your lips move with unsaid words as you motion for the cameras to stop rolling. You tilt your head right and left, muttering a bit.

“Did that seem better to you this time? I don’t know, I don’t think it was scary enough...”

You open your eyes to see the exasperated reporter looking at you as if she personally sought to end you right where you were sitting.

“You are the worst villain I’ve ever encountered,” she deadpans, and you laugh in agreement.

.

.

.

You weren’t really a villain.

If you must put a label on what you were, you would say that you were the best PR head any hero agency could ask for. You were, after all, the top student graduate from UA’s Business Course and had been ushered into a condensed agency the moment you were finished taking your graduation pictures. 

And well, if you are actually curious about the… villainy, you would like to uphold and continue to stress that you weren’t a villain! You were just a public nuisance – like those stupid YouTubers – with the ability to garner Pro Heroes’ attention! People had no reason to scoff at what you did on the daily.

You took both of these jobs very seriously!

It was like being straight out of a comic for you!

A simple – hopefully should the heroes you’re in charge of not be stupid – nine to five job by day, and a badass, crime-committing, sexy as shit villain by night! How could anyone ever hate you for your lifestyle! How could anyone ever hate you?!

But we are all noisy people, and everyone wondered just why you became a villain because you had a beautifully stable job with an impressive salary! Why would such an amazing woman such as yourself dabble in the evilness of humanity? 

Well, you did have an answer for the public.

“Why do you engage in evil, villainous schemes?” the reporter deadpans, absolutely and utterly not being paid enough to humor you in this forced interview.

The public loved drama, pizazz, a little showmanship even from what they deemed humanities worst! So, you told the world why you chose to be evil instead of good:

“Because I want to be!” you grin, flashing a pose as you make your away from the interviewer you had very much illegally forced to interview you. “And because a hero killed my cat!’

Of course, that was a lie! Why would you ever hand over the real reason as to why you decided to become a villain! You’d be laughed right out of Japan, possibly be murdered by a horde of fangirls!

For you see, there was one reason and one reason alone as to why you decided to take your place within the villainy hall of fame. Why you chose to do more in your day outside of your already demanding job.

And that one reason was: Pro Hero Deku, civilian name Midoriya Izuku.

Now, trying not to come off as some creepy, weirdo, stalker fangirl, you could fully admit that you were in love with the stupidly large hunk of a man that debuted as an official pro a year before you graduated from high school. 

You remember how the world was finally recovering from the year-long nightmare that had ensued. To be honest, you were stupidly surprised you had even managed to graduate, given that most of schooling had become somewhat of a joke.

FIVE YEARS AGO, MARCH, 2XXX:

It had been in the evening, the clear blue sky becoming ruby red and blood orange as you made your way out of campus. The air somehow smelled of sweet hay and gasoline, but you didn’t mind. There was hardly anyone out at this time, most students had made their way home already, and the only sounds were the moving cars of businessmen just trying to get back home.

There really wasn’t any reason to suspect anything to go wrong, this was a simple daily walk back home after school that wasn’t like any other. But then there had been a loud pop, an ever louder screech, and finally, you managed to whip your head in time to see a car tumbling through the air straight at you. 

There was hardly any time to think, even less to react, and the only thing you knew was that you were not going to survive.

You braced yourself, eyes clenching and body curling, your mind screaming because this was not going to be the way things ended. But before it could happen, before the car could come down upon you and squish you like a bug under a shoe, something picked you up and you were weightless.

Waiting for an impact that never came, the tears that were endlessly streaming down your face were suddenly stopped by rough, warm fingers smoothly wiping them away.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re safe now!” a voice says softly to you, endearingly warm and comforting. “I’m here, don’t worry.”

“Am I… did I die?” you whisper, unsure if you even want the answer, your eyes remaining closed because you refused to open them up to some angel that could confirm your death. “God, what an embarrassing way to die!”

“Oh – um, no! You’re not dead! I promise!” the voice laughs brightly, just softly enough that you believe him and not be entirely horrified by the amused reaction. Your eyes crack open slowly, just barely peering back into the world, still half praying you weren’t dead. But all you saw was green. 

Green eyes, green hair, green clothes.

You blink, once, twice, realizing only then you were staring into the eyes of a boy about your age.

He had curly hair, freckles littering his face, and eyes that easily pierced through your very soul.

Without meaning to, your breath stopped, frozen in your lungs as you were captivated by a handsome man with a curving, beautiful smile. 

“See, I told you it was okay!” he teased you, head cocking to the side as he grinned largely.

The action itself seemed to strangle the strangest noise out of your mouth as you realized suddenly and immediately that your face was burning and all you could think was:

A cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, acuteherorescuedme!

“Sorry about that scare! I would’ve caught that car sooner, but I wasn’t paying attention to who was around!” the green boy apologized, bowing deeply in front of you in his apology. “There’s a commotion just up ahead, so I recommend you take the next road over.”

You nod numbly, unable to conjure even the slightest hint of your voice again as he stood up to his full length. He was average in height it seemed, taller than you, but still not towering. The hero looked behind his shoulder, those big green eyes focusing onto the distance, onto something you couldn’t even begin to imagine – or see, really. He blinked and turned back to you, smile gone but the gentle aura to him remained, but now his face, his mouth, was underlined with a sense of urgency and engagement to whatever sent a vehicle tumbling your way.

“Which train do you take home?” he asked, eyebrows relaxing from his stern position, as his smile picked up again. “I’ll take you closer to your station!”

“B train,” you manage to wheeze out – unable to be the reason why he was held up but also confused as to just what he could do to get you closer to the station that was at least a mile away from here.

“Perfect! I know where that is!” he laughs for just a moment, and before you could even ask if this was going to be some escorted thing – because you definitely did not need it – his arms were fastly secured around you, and suddenly you were weightless.

A cold wind rushed against your face, nipping at your nose, cheeks, and ears, sending your hair flying around – into your mouth! Oh, you were screaming! You were soaring through the skyline, being held by some hero you couldn’t name, and you were screeching at the top of your lungs.

Making the mistake of looking down, your arms were suddenly around his shoulders, your voice growing even sharper and louder as you squeezed against his body and refused to let go. His hands, despite the gloves, were warm on your back, and his soft chuckle warming you from nose to toes as he secured his grip on you.

“I got you,” he spoke, “I won’t let you go, I promise.”

Those words don’t exactly ease you, but there’s a comfort to the genuinity to his words. You nod nonetheless, your face buried deep into his neck. The cold wind continues to whip around you, the only thing sounding in your ears is the cruel whipping wind and quiet city below.

“I’m landing now,” he informed you, body shifting in the wind, and reflexively, you clung even tighter to him, expecting the similar stomach dropping motion of a roller coaster going straight down. “You’re – ack – c-choking me!”

The knowledge of that, hearing the strain and entirely unhidden sound of him choking against the current chokehold you had on him, you released him entirely with a shriek of your own. Was it a smart move? No, definitely not because you were how many hundreds – if not thousands – of feet in the air with a quirk that could not, and would not save you.

“It’s okay! I’m fine!” he quickly said, his arms shifting around your waist as you felt your body weight drop just the smallest bit. To which your focus landed to the concrete floor so far down, and you began screaming again. He panicked just a bit too. “Y-You’re okay too! We’re landing! We’re landing!”

Soon, but not soon enough, the concrete floor came underneath your feet, and you practically felt your knees buckle underneath you. The train station behind you was practically invisible, and you felt the floor come in contact with your knees, and you collapsed onto your hands and knees. You could feel the tears streaming down your face as you wheezed and panted, unable to move from your position. 

“Hey, look, we made it!” he laughed gently, probably being said in hopes that you would feel better. (It did make you feel slightly better, his laugh was light and pretty to listen to.) You could feel him approaching you, iron covered red shoes appearing before your vision. Looking up, you saw that the young hero was crouching, his face holding a wobbly smile that was earnest, worried, and full of unspoken hope. “I do need to get back, but before I do, are you good enough to be left alone?”

You blinked your soaked eyelashes at him, still largely unable to say anything at the cute hero in front of you who had a few scratches on his cheek, right below his freckles.

“Y-Yeah, um,” you say, your tongue cotten and lead in your dry mouth. “I-I’ll be fine, I think.”

The green eyed hero nods, offering you a hand and assisting you to your trembling legs, “That’s good to hear!” he chirped, his wobbly smile becoming a grand, bright grin. “You were really brave! I was impressed!”

Now, you were an idiot at times, but even you could spot a stupid lie. Still, hearing it said with such honesty, as if this hero who was no taller than five foot eight truly believed it, made something bubble in your chest, and soon you found yourself laughing.

“No need to lie to me, h-hero,” you manage to speak between stammering breaths, “thank you for saving me, though. I appreciate it.”

You grin crookedly at him, and to your utter delight, he reciprocates it.

“It’s the least I can do. I’d offer to take you home but… I’m not quite finished yet,” he says, and you can only nod, the conversation obviously reaching its last strides. You watch as he floats up, his eyes looking at you, but somehow focused how many miles away from where he had brought you from. “Stay safe?”

“I’ll try my best,” you agree to his question, hands clasping before your lap. “Finish the job quick, hero?”

He grins, “I’ll try my best.”

You feel a breathless sort of laugh escape you as you watch him beginning to shoot back up, but a sort of horror shoots through you as you rush forward, running right after him, hands cupping around your mouth as you scream:

“What’s your name?!”

The blur of green in the air freezes, and you stop running as you see green eyes and freckles focusing back onto you.

“Deku! My hero name is Deku!”

You stop at the curb of the street, eyes focused on the sky as the green eyed hero named Deku grins one last time before shooting off at a speed probably much faster than when he held onto you. The wind blows around you, and you can only feel the heat sitting on your cheeks and the way you’re smiling as you stare after his figure that's long, long gone.

“Deku...” you whisper to yourself, ignorant to the world of commuters beginning to appear at the station. “Thank you.”

And thus came the very apparent and obvious day in which you fell head over heels for Pro Hero Deku.

Now some people called you a stupid fangirl, obsessive stalker, and sometimes, yeah, you were obsessive and weird about your slight infatuation with a stranger. It was strange, you knew that! But you also knew that you had practically no chances of ever being able to woe the man behind the image of Deku because Midoriya Izuku practically existed as Deku 24/7.

After you graduated from high school, you were put into the same agency that was currently holding Deku. Without tooting your own rom-com obsessed horn too much, you fully expected to walk in and be handed Deku’s file as his PR manager and be able to thank him for not only saving you all that time ago, but also eventually sweep him off his feet. 

But your reputation preceded you well, probably too well, because the first day you entered the office and was handed your list of three clients to work with, neither one was for Deku. Being a PR manager for heroes was hard, a job that practically held no set hours because, unlike your typical celebrities, heroes had no type of privacy or protection. They were constantly under the spotlight, being viewed by adoring fans and scornful critics. Your job served as the first line of defense for heroes against the public, and there were some heroes that were quite hilariously easy to work for because they were genuinely good.

The older PR managers typically held the quieter, easy tempered, or less combat heavy heroes. These heroes typically never had a bad thing said about them, their job was a glorified PA job but even less because there was no expected demands from the heroes they had to take in. Unless, of course, a hero wanted to do some sort of public event they hadn’t considered. 

But there were the louder, quick to temper, or the heavy combat heroes that while made you an insane amount of money, also brought you a near 120 hour work week because there was so much to do, so much to consider, so much to keep your eyes on. There was the constant slander, the people who hated the louder, quick to temper heroes because they didn’t like their attitude, completely disregarding that they had been unsafe and a liability the entire time the hero was dealing with them. The talk shows that took months to convince to allow for an interview because they heard false rumors, and so you have to practically wrestle a boa constrictor to get a measly five minute interview done. And then the combat-heavy heroes… no one would ever shut up about building damages and how this hero broke his nose while he was stealing a store! 

Not to mention having to have every single piece of social media on your phone, set to notify you whenever your clients names were brought up so that you could look at it. You’ve seen more than enough lewd drawings of your clients to last you a lifetime, enough fanfiction, and fan edits that left you with blazing cheeks and the need to never look at your client ever again. But mostly you checked each and every update because you were their first and only line of legal defense on these sorts of things.

You’ve taken down leaked nudes, fake news, and qualmed rumors and speculations.

It was hard.

So when you were shown to your desk on your first day and three files were handed to you, you were shocked to see the hero names you would be working with.

Dynamight

Phantom Thief

Shouto

Somehow, without having yet to speak with a single one of your now current clients, you knew that you were going to have your work cut out for you.

“Good luck newbie!” the woman who gave you the initial tour chirped, clapping you on the back. “You got this!”

Good lord.

Without much to do other than reading through the three’s files, you realized that you already knew a bunch about two of three of your clients. DynaMight and Shouto were two heroes that you knew teamed up with and hung out with Deku a lot, both on-field and off-field if any of the out of costume pictures said anything. Because of their connection with Deku, you had at one point learned a bit about them.

You knew that Shouto was a crowd favorite. He was tall and sweet and a complete airhead at the best moments despite him being smart. Controversy still surrounded his character, despite all the good he did, because of the past history that was brought out about his father Endeavor and his brother Dabi. The country couldn’t figure out where they stood in terms of that reveal. Endeavor did a lot before the reveal, and continued to rise up to everything in his path despite the skeletons in his closet being thrown out for the world to see. They neither forgave him, nor hated him, they only watched and waited. Then Dabi, of course, was seen as a could-have-been version of Shouto, and many tried to ask if he was really a hero and not actually siding with the League. After all, why on Earth would he be defensive of his father too?

The public had an unmoving image of Shouto based on anything but who he was as an individual, and you decided immediately that it would be your job to fix that. He was also, after all, a dear friend of Deku, so you’d do anything.

Phantom Thief was your easiest of the three clients. A relatively well mannered man who was kind and a bit weird in a fun way. He had a great sense of self and was a reliable person on the field. He made a great hero, but you could see the way his spirit blazed with an unspoken rivalry between him and the other two of your clients. Well, it seemed like he was the best until his former self appointed rivals came into the picture, but that was hardly ever, and according to Shouto, he was way worse back in their first year. 

The greatest scandal he’s had so far in your three years of working at their agency was the one time he was lied to about a quirk and accidentally copied a woman's quirk that gave her the ability to change her cup size. Safe to say that Phantom Thief accidentally broke a few buttons on his shirt and was unable to stop civilians from snapping pictures. 

But of course, the one that had you practically crying yourself to sleep nightly for more than one reason was Dynamight.

You’d known about him the moment you looked up Deku on your phone.

They were practically a hero duo in everything but name. They were always seen doing the same things together, whether that be on patrol together or maybe getting dinner, most of their top recorded fights were done with each other by their sides. You had also learned that they were childhood friends, and you practically vibrated at the thought that even though Deku was not your client, the chances of meeting him were still astronomically high.

There was no way you wouldn’t not meet Deku!

But you were wrong, so very, very wrong.

Turns out the hero duo in everything but name meant that Dynamight refused to let Deku be anywhere near him in the agency – the very small amount of time they spent in here. The few times they were in the same room, Dynamight absolutely refused to be interrupted because that was their paperwork hour. You had only ever been blessed with seeing green curls turning the corner as Dynamight gripped your forearm, refusing to let you follow.

“Like hell I’ll let you distract the shitnerd,” he stated simply, his red eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at you. You opened your mouth, ready to defend your not so innocent intentions. “I’m not stupid, so don’t pretend like you won’t try anything.”

Your jaw snapped shut.

Safe to say that you couldn’t do anything about Deku so long as Dynamight was around.

But Dynamight as a client was exhausting to put it kindly.

There were so many opinions and thoughts and issues and praises coming from everywhere. Hell, even the fucking Americans and westerners had caught wind of the Wonder Duo at one point and while you were well knowledgable on their opinions on Deku, the ones on Dynamight were the ones that you had to focus on now.

People still called him a villain, so many unhappy with the fact that he still screamed and cursed and threatened. There were many conspiracy theories that he was working with the long dead League of Villains. They turned their nose up at the fact that he was childhood friends with Deku, claiming that no way an asshole like him could have ever been friends with him. And of course the bullying revelation that had come out shortly after your debut. 

That had been a trip, one that had you even shocked as Dynamight approached the table in front of the media, his body calm and composed. You had watched as he simply said he owed nothing to the media, that he had already done all that he could to deserve his atonement and deserve Deku’s forgiveness. He had spoken clearly, concisely that it wasn’t any of their damn business as to what he did, and if he apologized to them, the unaffected, the ones that had nothing to do with his early years of bullying Deku, of his previous weakness and insecurity, it would be a waste of his breath. 

It isn’t to them he should ever be apologizing to anyways.

You had watched as he stood up, face calm, and hands shoved into his pockets as he stood and walked away despite the screaming reporters. You had wanted to stay longer, have your own hand in damage control, but a swoop of green came in and Deku was at the microphone eyebrows furrowed as he pointed a finger at them all and said that his past with Kacchan was between him and Kacchan only, and his decision to forgive Kacchan were his and only his.

You didn’t hear the rest, didn’t even get the option to hear the way the hero you loved defended the hero you worked for – his childhood friend.

No.

Dynamight had grabbed your elbow and dragged you out of the room with him, the metal doors clanging closed the moment fierce green eyes met yours.

You watched in the company car as Dynamight looked outside the window, one elbow on the doorframe holding his chin; his gaze focused sharply on nothing but the passing sidewalk. Had it not been for the way the hand on top of his lap trembled, you would have thought he was perfectly okay.

Neither one of you talked about that again.

But just because you didn’t talk about it again, didn’t mean the world was the same. People claimed he brainwashed Deku, others demanded that Deku beat the shit out of Dynamight. You knew that Dynamight would want nothing to do with this, but you would stay in the office (an almost useless, empty office as most PR managers did their business at home) for hours long after you were supposed to be gone, practically arguing with someone who only existed behind a screen and didn’t even care that much – but you couldn’t stop.

Seeing Dynamight’s shaking hand had really done a number on you.

“The hell are you still doing here, eyelashes,” Dynamite asked from the dark entrance of the floor. “Go home already, don’t waste your time.”

You had startled at the initial intrusion, but you immediately relaxed seeing the smudged paint around red eyes and blond hair. You barely kept your gaze on him before turning back to your computer and continuing your argument.

“I’m not wasting my time, I’m doing my job,” you remark, eyes squinting at your keyboard because your vision is definitely blurry. “I’ll be heading out soon anyways.”

“God you’re fucking annoying and stubborn!” Dynamight barked, the heel of his hand slamming into his forehead. “This is exactly why I won’t introduce you to the fucking nerd!” 

“What?!” you shriek, suddenly looking at your client as if he had personally attacked you – and in a way he did. “What do you mean you won’t introduce me to Deku because of that?! I’ve already met Red Riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane, and Pinky through you!”

“Yeah, because they’re not stubborn idiots too!” Dynamight accuses, jamming a gloved finger at you as he begins stomping your way. You startle, your chair shooting backward as the explosion hero makes his way towards you at alarming speed.

“What are you—?!” you shriek, hands flailing about as he grabs you by the collar of your distressed shirt.

Dynamight lifts you up to your feet as if you were a sack of flour and you grasp onto his forearm.

“I might tell you that you’re the most annoying and stubborn bitch in the world, but you’re not worse than fucking Deku,” Dynamight sneers, his red eyes narrowed and stern. “I’m not going to let you meet him until you learn how to give or you’ll hurt him, and I’m not going to be part of any reason as to why he gets hurt again.”

Your jaw dropped, clearly offended, but you closed it just as fast; the weight of his words made you a bit sad, even for just a bit.

“You’re kinda cute when you care for Deku, you sure I’m his biggest fan?” you tease, grinning at the hero to which he rolls his eyes.

“Shut the hell up and go home already; it’s annoying seeing you fight a losing battle that’s none of your damn business,” Dynamight simply said, putting you back onto your feet and blocking out your desk. 

“I’ll go home on the condition that for my birthday you at least consider introducing us!” you say, unwilling to move from your spot. “I’ve been working for you for three years! You’ve kept me away for three years!”

Dynamight’s stare didn’t even shift the slightest millimeter, his red eyes unamused as you groaned in grief and annoyance.

“I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself?!” you grumble snatching your jacket and purse from the hook on your cubicle and shoving them on. “My names God of Explosion Murder: Dynamight and I am Stubborn™ but will never admit it.”

You continued mocking your long time client and most definitely friend if you dared to say so, and dragged the heel of your foot all the way to the elevator to which you were joined by Dynamight. The trip down the elevator is silent, and you keep your gaze locked on the closed doors, unwilling to even look at the hero next to you.

Soon enough, the elevator reached the ground floor, and you got ready to walk out.

“I’ll consider it,” Dynamight said as the elevator doors opened. “Also, fucking stop calling me Dynamight, Bakugou’s fine.”

He walked off the elevator with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.

“Thank you, Bakugou!” you shriek, your lungs failing you at the thought of finally being introduced to Deku! You hadn’t moved from your spot from the elevator, your chest hammering with the thought of getting to meet Deku.

“Don’t get your hopes up, you’re still irritatingly stubborn,” Bakugou merely calls over his shoulder before lifting his hand in a halfhearted wave before stepping out of the glass door.

That brought you back to reality just a bit and you scowled, knowing you would have to go beyond and above to prove that. 

But you see, there were many reasons to cry about having Bakugou as your client. Besides the stinkhole of his previous bullying, people just were not understanding his typically prickly exterior. You had to go head to head with reputation tarnished, had to slap fangirls away who demanded that Bakugou degrade them where they stood. It was hard to not be stubborn as not only his PR manager but his friend, and in less than a month, still plenty of time before your birthday, you had already grown irritated of the meeting-Deku-card he waved over your head.

“Mei, if I have to go any longer than this, I will die and hope I am reborn as Deku’s new guardian angel,” you pouted, chin pressed against a cold metal tabletop. Your hands being used as glove models for one of your best friends Hatsume Mei. “It’s first of all impossible getting anywhere near him with his guard dog Bakugou literally stopping me whenever I’m within a ten foot radius! And then I’m not even sure what will happen when we do meet again! Would I even be able to talk to him?!”

“Why wouldn’t you? You talk to all my babies with me! There’s practically nothing you can’t do,” Mei laughs, smacking you against your back before returning her intense gaze back to the gloves. “Deku’s uh… I actually can’t remember him but I’m sure he’s a great conversationalist! I think he helped me with the Sports Festival my first year.”

 “That was Iida,” you laugh, wiggling your fingers as Mei demanded. “You’re so bad with names and faces, I’m impressed you know mine.”

“You saved my baby, of course I remember you,” Mei turned her grin towards you, “but come on, why can’t you get with him besides this Bakugou guy?”

“Well, he’s just like Bakugou! He’s practically married to his job! Their schedules basically match together perfectly! There’s literally only three hours a day while they’re on the job that they’re not together! And that’s when they patrol their own parts of town because there’s hardly any activity they don’t need to be attached by the neck.” You explain and rant, your cheeks puffing as you stand up and allow Mei to run further tests on the glove. 

“Sounds like you gotta become a villain to woo this hero guy, huh,” Mei spoke, eyes focused on the glove as you pointed a finger at the far wall and watched as a beam exploded from the fingertip and pierced through the steel wall like butter. “Too bad you’re a goody two-shoes or else I could make you some serious villain gear and make you a fearsome villain to then prove that Hatusme Mei’s babies and creations are untouchable and the best in the world! Muah-ha-ha-ha!”

You know her words are more joking than serious, but that doesn’t stop your eyes from widening. Your body shifts over to where she was standing and you screech pointing at her and just narrowly missing setting off the laser again. 

“THAT'S IT!”

“What’s it?” she asked, completely confused.

“You have to make me a villain!” you exclaim, rushing over to Mei, who is eagerly waiting for her babies returnal especially since it ran perfectly. “You have to make me near-invisible gear that can keep me going toe to toe with Deku until I can seduce him!”

“You want to turn evil?” Mei questions, finger pressing quizzically to her chin. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“I am definitely not villainous to pull that off, but like I pretend to be a villain so that he talks to me and we can like get to know each other!” you exclaim, you’re unable to keep from hopping up and down on your feet, your grin unfathomably bright. “It's practically a romcom in the making!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Mei laughs, altering the band of fabric around your waist. “You do know heroes and villains hardly speak? It’s more like… ‘I’m more powerful,’ ‘No me!,’ ‘No, ME!’”

“Um, I’m pretty sure that’s not true, but whatever! I’ll figure out a way!” you continue on unaffected because this plan was genius! Especially if you had Mei in your corner?! Her recent development of not using such… steampunk designs made her creations elusive and dangerous to own. Hence why she was an extremely sought out manufacturer, by villains and heroes alike. “And if I can go toe to toe with Deku of all people, you’ll know that you and your babies are the undeniable best!”

“Hm, that is promising,” Mei agrees with a nod as she forces you around. “Is this Deku guy all that good?”

“He’s the one you made the iron soles for!” you chirp and watch as the recognition and challenge spark immediately in Mei’s yellow eyes.

“Oh,” Mei chuckles, turning away from you and looking at her pile of made babies. “This would be good.”

“So we have an agreement?” you grin excitedly. 

“Give me a month, and we’ll have your debut!”

Fuck Bakugou for thinking you weren’t good enough!

.

.

.

You hadn’t expected the initial phases of villainy to be quite as hard as it was, if you were being honest. The late nights at Mei’s personal lab made sure to keep your plans a solid secret, but you had to prepare for the wild range of what Deku’s quirk entailed.

There was smoke, something you were already used to working in because of Bakugou and his quirk. You’ve navigated quite a bit in his smog, and as long as you knew where you were, you would be fine. 

There was also that danger sense, which allowed him to know when things were coming – something that shouldn’t be too big an issue considering you weren’t actually attempting to extract danger onto him. 

Blackwhip was a big issue. How far or how much could you do if he even grabbed a hold of you. With sleuthing and the help of Mei having files on everyone's quirks, you were able to find information that blackwhip was a creation made of energy. Meaning that Mei was now making some type of destructing material to lessen the energy of the quirk, allowing for you to escape should he attempt to capture you this way.

Float was stopped by having most of your fights occur within a confined area, which was needed for you anyways! You didn’t need to be caught by anyone else but him! You didn’t actually need to land in jail – you would prefer to not be handled by anyone but Deku, actually.

Then of course the stupid superstrength and superspeed, both of which you knew you could handle with your quirk. You’ve been head to head with people with quirks similar to that before, and you knew your quirk was tricky enough that you’d manage to slip right past his fingers just fine. After all, you knew full and well that the Deku who took down S class villains was worlds quicker than F class villains – aka you.

You would be fine.

But today was day one, first of how many days it would take to get Pro Hero Deku, aka Midoriya Izuku to fall in love with you. 

You were dressed in a black and purple bodysuit that was definitely not inspired by Shego from Kim Possible’s costume. Your hair was dyed purple by a special spray Mei created that would be washed out by the end of the day, but wouldn’t ever give away that it was fake. You wore a mask over your eyes, and grinned seeing that you couldn’t see a fleck of color on your irises. 

Perfect.

And with far too much confidence, nauseating excitement, and unjustified attitude, you marched down towards your first spot, ready and adopting the identity of who you were about to become.

Mirage.

It was time to act. Deku and Dynamight were on different patrol routes right now, and you sent your threat, readying for the moment for the man in green to come in with the desire to stop you. With the very real threat of stealing every puppy within the tristate area being broadcasted within the area unless and hero bests you, you waited for your savior to come and stop you.

“I am here to stop your villainous acts, you villain!” a voice shattered the silence just as it shattered your heart. You looked over your shoulder to see some hero you couldn’t name standing at the other stairwell entrance with his fists clenched and ready to fight. 

You groaned, shoulders crumbling with your well hidden disappointment.

“I wasn’t looking for you!” you exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the flabbergasted hero who was just trying to figure out what was happening. “Where’s Deku?!”

“He’s – he’s not here yet,” he stammers, eyes wide. “It’s not his day anymore to patrol this area?”

“Aw fuck!” you complain, pouting at the realization that you had messed up. “Okay, I’ll be back later, please don’t come back. Bye!”

With a small wave, you easily stepped through the door to the stairwell next to you and left, your threat empty and the hero victorious despite not actually stopping you. And unfortunately, although you had wished and prayed even, this was not the last time a screw up like this would happen.

At the threat of destroying all the cats in the area, you had another hero show up, not Deku, and you groaned and left before they could even finish their call of stopping you.

You then threatened to poison the watering system, to which you found out that Deku was held up at another major villain threat in a different city. You groaned and stomped off after that. 

Then there was the time you swore you would increase the overall temperature of the city per one degree celsius should your demands not be made. Shouto answered that one and you immediately walked away the moment you saw the familiar head of red and white coming your way.

Time and time again you kept being caught by heroes you could not care about, being confronted by no names and nobodies. It was tiring, and Mei was beginning to sigh just the smallest bit whenever you showed up to try yet again.

But you weren’t a quitter!

You would win!

This was your last attempt at getting Deku to notice you.

After threatening to wrap all the citizens in the area with a giant froot by the foot, you were almost sad to say that the heroes ignored your cry for chaos and no one had come to check on you.

You sat outside the building you used as your trap for Deku, pouting into a hot dog that the neighborhood's grandma gave you because you looked like you needed something to eat. It’s a good thing you weren’t actually a villain or else they’d be fucked, you bitterly thought as you took another bite of your food. 

It had been a month of empty, no Deku appearances, and you were going to bite the bullet and pretend to be not stubborn just so stupid Bakugou of all people could introduce you.

You kicked your feet as you sat on the staircase, humming as you watched the empty streets bend with the wind. It was quiet, beautiful, peaceful.

“YOU!” a voice shrieked to your left, and you watched a pudgy, red nosed man racing over towards you, a flash drive clenched in his hands. “TAKE THIS! RUN! DON’T LET THE HEROES TAKE IT!”

You gawked at him, feeling the small plastic device being shoved into your hands as the man collapsed at your feet. You squeaked when you heard a voice yelling stop and you bounced to your feet, turned into the building and raced in.

Your breathing was erratic, heart in your throat as you raced up the stairwell, unable to begin to imagine what the hell the information on the flash drive held. You were practically hyperventilating as you reached the floor you had come to know extremely well, and you stood near the window with shaky hands and legs.

What did you take?!

“I’m going to need that back, I’m afraid,” a low smooth voice said from behind you, and you froze immediately. Old anxiety overcome by a new anxiety, one that made your stomach flip and blood burn. 

Turning around, you felt awestruck to see the one man you’ve been waiting for… for fucking years now, really, to appear before you, finally be there. In the flesh, completely, entirely. Your jaw dropped, your gaze looking down from your clenched hand that held the USB to the way that Deku looked at you with warm eyes that were underlined with steel that made you want to drop to your knees, confess everything, and beg to be his. God, he was so fucking tall. He had only been about five foot eight the last time you had actually talked, and now he was at least a foot taller. His teenager haircut was long gone, now replaced with his curls trimmed at the nape of his neck before filling out on top – not quite an undercut. He had more freckles now, surely. His skin just a bit tanner, a scar trailing from his cheek to his jaw. You knew there were more scars, just as you knew that there were dimples when he smiled.

You wanted to have him between your legs while you begged for mercy, holy shit.

Tucking the USB into your pocket, you tilted your head as you will yourself to relax.

“I went through all the trouble of getting it... I think if I’m going to hand it over quickly, I deserve to know what’s on it, no?” you tease, your confidence coming out of nowhere while a smile spreads ever so largely over your features. Deku’s eyes widened just a bit, shock overcoming his green eyes.

“I’m sorry, but that’s confidential,” Deku stresses, taking a step forward toward you. You click your tongue, taking a step backward while grinning.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked for,” you giggle as you watch Deku’s face go through an array of emotions before settling onto one – curiosity.

“What do you want?” he asked, apparently entirely ready to discuss any and all terms and conditions with you.

“Honestly?” you reply, tapping a gloved finger to your chin as you ‘think.’ Deku, however, nods. His stance relaxing, becoming one of preparedness but not the takedown he had previously entered with.

“A date with you.”

You watch as Deku’s eyes slam wide open, his jaw dropping immediately and he stammered. Oh, how your heart soared and how you felt giddy and wonderful as he seemed to slip and slide on his own tongue!

“A-A date?!” he ends up almost shrieking, his head shaking left and right. “T-That’s a total lie! You can’t possibly – well, no! Please tell me the truth!”

But you were giddy, practically drunk off the fact that you were making the most powerful hero in the world blush like a little schoolboy. You suddenly were on the offensive, stepping towards your hero who was much larger than you with power and drive behind each step. And it must have been the way you stared him down, the way you walked towards him at blank range with such brimming confidence that Deku takes a step back. But it’s something that makes you want to laugh as the heel of his foot gets caught on a raised tile, and you watch the mountain of a man tumble to the floor.

You’re on top of him immediately, hands pressed to his shoulders, knee settling near his crotch with most of your weight so he got the idea to not do anything funny. The USB sits between your fingers, and you lean over his flushed face that looks up at you with wide eyes.

“Actually, I changed my mind, I know what I want,” you say instead, nose ghosting over his. “Everytime I decide to do something… naughty… I want you to be the hero on the case to stop me. You and just you.”

You lean in closer, so close that you could see the specks of gold in his green, green eyes.

Deku hasn’t spoken, and you’re pretty sure his chest isn’t moving as you press your breasts against his.

“Understood, De-ku?”

Your teeth tug at his bottom lip and let go as he nods.

“Good, good,” you grin, sitting up on his chest and taking the USB in your fingers and slipping it into his utility belt. “Take good care of that for me, I’ll see you next time, hero…”

You had only managed to flash a quick wave before disappearing through your usual door, hoping and praying to god that whatever the hell possessed you would continue until you reached Mei’s. It wouldn’t hit you until much, much later than you had stunned Pro Hero Deku speechless within the first meeting.

Hell, you thought giddily as you answered Bakugou’s call about how he probably just got into a bit of a messy situation, maybe you do have the potential to woo him like this. 

.

Thus truly began your descent as the villain Mirage.

.

It was quickly accepted and discovered that the moment you stepped into that costume and colored hair that you were the prey for Deku and Deku only. Most of your interactions with Deku occurred within buildings, and you used Mei’s gear to gain the final laugh each and every time to allow for you to escape. There were times, however, where you could be seen racing through the sky. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop as Deku followed after you, leaping, tumbling, and even catching you at times. 

You flirted with him heavily, allowing yourself to be caught so that you could bat your pretty lashes and press your chest against his. It didn’t matter how professional he was, how good at his job he was, Deku was a pervert – so obviously a pervert it made slipping away almost too easy.

But because you had the world-renowned, world known Pro Hero Deku as the only hero on your case, soon the small block who had to play victims to your horrendous crimes became only a small percentage of people who were watching your crimes. These near daily crimes (or inconveniences/botherings as the people on the internet say to defend you and your actions) are becoming both a worldwide sensation, and so, it took nothing for you to continue having Deku at your feet and the world chipped in. So you agreed to do interviews, forcing uneager reporters to do segments on you so that the hype behind you and Deku’s relationship grew.

You didn’t want him to leave you, not until you got what you wanted, and unless you were an idiot, you were nearly positive you were almost there.

Why would you say that?

Well, a few reasons.

The first came about a week after you had first met Deku again.

You had joyously gathered the means to create a machine to shave down an eighth of an inch of everyone's shoes in the entire country of Japan without their knowledge. You had ever so evilly explained that the point of this was to ensure that for a full day, everyone would feel off and unbalanced but would not know why.

You had said this, grinning widely as you turned around to see Deku standing there attempting to fight off a very amused smile. 

“I don’t think that would be all too evil, Mirage,” he called out to you, arms folding across his chest as he watched you set up the machine to do exactly what you said you would do.

“Mm, that’s what you say now, but just wait until you’re one of the losers stumbling around,” you say back, grinning as you turn around for just a second, wagging the knife at Deku from the distance. 

“Well, regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku laughs just slightly, and you grin, standing up.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, so I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there.”

You giggle.

“Make me.”

You’re not sure what happens, but there’s dodging and weaving, spinning and sliding. You’re practically wheezing from how hard you’re laughing as Deku can not manage to land a finger on you with the help of Mei’s items and your quirk. It all comes to an end when instead of dodging, you throw yourself right at him, and Deku has not anticipated that. 

His eyes are wide open and you fiercely grin as he falls back onto the floor, unbalanced and only slightly frantic. You have the knife pointed at his neck, the dull blade sitting gently on his skin.

“So, Deku,” you taunt teasingly, your teeth burying into your bottom lip for just a moment at the sight of the dark flash in his green, beautiful eyes. “Tell me one thing, or I’ll continue on with my vile plans.”

“O-Okay?”

“Are you single?”

The second attempt came a few many weeks later. 

You had gathered about 75 tons of glitter bombs and were in the current process of making them one. You had plans of setting it off over Tokyo so that for practically the rest of eternity, the entire city would have glitter everywhere. The only thing is that you did have to glue the glitter bombs together because, well, no one made super giant ones.

“This is so annoying, there’s glitter everywhere, and I’m only ten glitter bombs in!” you complain to the ‘empty’ room but knowing full and well that Deku had appeared through the broken window at least five minutes ago.

“If it’s annoying to you, then shouldn’t you stop?” Deku replied and you grinned. 

He really couldn’t stay quiet, huh?

“Well, if it’s annoying to me, then that means every one of my victims will also find it annoying. Win-win situation.” you say, turning around towards him and winking. Facing back towards the glitter bombs you scowl, “stupid fucking glue gets everywhere, too!”

“Regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku said as leveled as he could although you swore you heard a laugh in his voice.

“Just try and stop me,” you reply back stone cold.

You stand up and watch as Deku stands up from the windowsill and sighs just a bit too heavily.

“Guess I have to,” he says and shoots out before you’re well prepared.

Typically, and probably in any other situation, this would have been the end. Pro Hero Deku had come at you with the speed and power as he took out any other Class F criminals, but unfortunately for him, and definitely fortunately for you that glue was EVERYWHERE.

Deku’s hand was stuck onto your arm, and your chest was glued to his stomach, and you swear you never quite got the strawberry Deku references until right now.

The perverted hero burned scarlet, his face practically simmering with heat as your body became undeniably stuck to his. You had to fight off the vindictive smirk, the practically snarling grin as you could feel something hot and heavy twitch at your hip.

“Fuck,” Deku wheezed.

“Fuck, yeah,” you grinned.

.

.

“WHAT?!”

.

.

Deku could not look you in the eyes for about 10 more interactions following that, but you counted that as a win. But undoubtedly, your starred and favorite memory of it all was something that occurred just last week of the current present events.

You had stood on top of a building, threatening the entire government of stealing (i.e., cutting off) the aglet of their shoes and sweaters and then removing all the laces so that it would result in their wasted time and entire humiliation!

“I don’t think most people even know what aglets are, to be honest,” Deku said from behind you. You turned around to see that he was standing there with an unsuppressed grin. “It’s not a good enough threat.”

You go unfazed by his judgement, choosing to instead bat your eyelashes and push your hair behind your ear.

“Not a good enough threat, and yet, you’re still here?” you tease, enjoying the way pink flushes to his cheeks.

“Where else would I be?” he says, and you have to ignore the way your stomach fills with butterflies. 

“You’re not cute when you flirt back,” you deadpan, biting your tongue harshly when he says ‘hey!’ “Enough chit chat, let me kick your ass now and then do what I need to do.”

Unlike probably what is 95% of the time, you made the first move today. 

You were on the offensive, jabbing and weaving, sweeping and punching. Deku’s green eyes were nearly black as he watched you, analyzing and taking in your movements, countering them all without so much of an issue.

“I still don’t get your quirk,” Deku grunted as his hand swiped at the empty air. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“So then you can turn me in to the government who are still salty about their aglets? I don’t think so!” you say with a laugh, rolling out of the way as Deku lunges forward. “Try again, baby, I have full faith that you’ll get it.”

Deku puffed out a chuckle and lunged again, his huge gloved hand swiping at you, with nearly accuracy despite your quirk being on. But… he wasn’t exactly perfect.

RIIIIIIIIIP!

Cold air hit your breast and your jaw dropped as your very exposed breast appeared before you and Deku. Pro Hero Deku had torn the breast of your costume, the costume that you purposefully did not wear a bra for because you had wanted this exact scenario to play out.

“DEKU!” you screech, pretending to be modest and covering your tit as Deku finally yanked himself out of staring at your breast and whipped around. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn’t think that was going to happen! I didn’t even mean to look at your boob! It just sort of all happened too fast and it was very shocking! N-Not that you have an ugly boob or anything because actually I think you have a very great boob! But oh my god, I need to shut up please ignore me!” Deku spoke so fast in a matter of five seconds, and you couldn’t even tell him to come back as he sprinted away.

His ears burned red and you swore even as he was gone, you could still see the red of his ears illuminating the sky.

You laugh.

“What a perv.”

And so, we are back to the beginning.

Back to how you forced a local news channel to read your demands so that you could hopefully take your final bow as Mirage forever.

With the threat of having a machine that would make dogs bark at a frequency for hours on end until humans eardrums broke then bleed. You made your way to your typical building and hummed as you waited. 

The world outside was the same as always.

There were a few people out, a few cars driving through the street, and a few birds chirping here and there.

It was peaceful.

“Don’t you think the new reporter thing was a bit dramatic?” Deku chuckled from behind you.

You were used to him approaching like that, used to him trying to portray being elusive and cool. In your opinion, it just made him dorky.

“No such thing as being dramatic when I’m trying to go head to head with the greatest hero ever,” you respond back effortlessly. You spin on your heel and look back at Deku, who is leaning against a doorframe that he most definitely is slouching on so that the top of his head doesn’t hit the frame. “Hi, Deku.”

“Hi, y/l/n,” he says with a soft smile, one that's slightly victorious, one that makes your stomach knot in a pleasant way.

“Ah, you discovered my secret identity,” you observe, grinning as you begin approaching Deku. “Should I be scared?”

“Probably not, I don’t think I could do anything to you,” Deku sighs, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you too. “You’re pretty amazing, y/l/n.”

“Let’s prove that then,” you grin while zipping forward.

As if the both of you knew that this was the end of the line, the final confrontation, the battle this time was different. It was showy, flirty, full of spins and side steps, playing a game of cat and mouse while dodging and weaving. You laughed as blackwhip dissolved around your costume, and you frowned as he began using more of his power to get from point A to point B much quicker.

You’re not quite sure how it happened, what exactly you did wrong, or maybe Deku just finally figured out the pattern you used for your quirk because suddenly you were being tackled from behind. You shrieked as the two of you went down, his body flushed on top of you, his chest pressing to your shoulders. 

The both of you were heaving, panting, completely out of breath from the five minutes you took playing around. He holds your wrists in one hand, pinned above your head, and the other one is on your waist. You were trapped beneath him, unable to move the absolute unit of a man above you, arms and hips weak to his weight. You shoved your hips up, attempting to shift some of his weight off you, but you froze as he choked on a breath by your ear.

Your ass was pressed against something hard, thick, and hot.

Oh.

Ohhh fuck.

It was happening.

Holy fucking shit.

Your breathing hitches as you thrusted your ass up again, confirming you were grinding on what was definitely Deku’s hardening cock. And once again, Deku makes the prettiest, most embarrassed gravelly grunt at the back of his throat and you feel like every strand of resistance and strength snaps.

The hand on your waist pulls you even closer against his crotch, and there's lips pressing against your neck, and you absolutely lose it. 

He kisses your neck sloppily, teeth nipping at your exposed flesh, and you grind against him, moaning and thrusting back as your body feels like it's on fire. He wanted you! He wanted you and your plan to woo him worked!

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you keen breathlessly. “Wanted you so badly, Deku.”

“Fuck,” Deku curses, his hips thrusting back against your clothed ass with power you couldn’t fucking wait to feel. “I wanted you too. Wanted you so badly, but didn’t think – holy shit.”

His hand that pins your wrists lets go of you, and moves to grab your jaw. You nearly fucking melt as his full lips slam against yours, and you moan as his lips move against yours. There’s something indescribable about how he’s kissing you, the want, the need, the months of suppressed tension bursting through every move and curve of his mouth. It doesn’t matter to you that you’re pressed up against the concrete floor, you feel like you’ve been placed into another world, an area where you can never come back.

Your arm reaches behind you and buries into his soft curls, you tug at them as your ass circles against his thrusting hips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whine at the hot, wet muscle in your mouth, and it sends your head spinning. You can’t take it anymore, you need him, want him flushed against your front.

“Can I fuck you?” Deku asks swollen lips pulling away from yours, his mouth frantic and trailing kisses up your cheeks and down your jaw. “Please, I wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna fuck you on the floor and against the wall. Can I make you mine?”

You nod your head frantically, unable to come up with the words to say in order to tell him yes.  

Deku laughs breathlessly and flips you over so that it’s your back against the floor now. 

And just like you want him to, Deku comes down to reclaim your mouth. Hot, open mouthed kisses, teeth tugging at your lips and hands grabbing your waist. His hands are huge against you filling up the space between your hip and your waist without an issue. Your legs wrap around his waist, feeling entirely small underneath him, but entirely ready to be fucked by him.

His lips move expertly against yours, teeth nibbling at your lips, mouth then sucking on your tongue. You can’t keep the continuous moans from leaking out, can’t keep yourself from staying quiet as your eyes flutter open and see green eyes so dark they look black, staring down at you with the intensity of a predator. 

You were his prey, and you would present to him at the drop of a hat.

His body is hot, heat rolling off of his hero costume in waves, making you feel like you were near burning against him. And the heat between his thighs sits at the bottom of your ass, thrusting up and grinding against you so that you don’t forget even for a moment that you are making him this way. 

“I always knew you’d have such a pretty moan,” Deku mumbles as his fingers find the zipper to your costume and begin to tug it down. His lips trail down your neck, biting and nipping at the newly exposed flesh. “Knew you’d look so pretty under me, waiting to be fucked into submission.”

The words spark something within you, your eyes fluttering as your hips grind just a tad bit faster and you whine. 

“Aw, is that what you wanted this entire time, y/l/n?” Deku asks, his grin pressed against your collarbone. “Wanted to be stretched out and fucked until you can’t anymore?”

“I want it,” you gasp, your fingers burying deep into his curls. “I want you, I want it, I want your dick in me already!”

“Not into foreplay?” Deku chuckles just a bit, tongue then tracing up your neck. 

“Oh I am,” you snap, fingers finding the zipper of his own costume. “You can find out later how much I’m into it, but right now, I have been wanting you for years, and you will not make me wait any longer!”

Deku only nods frantically, and it's a mess of limbs, sloppy kisses, and clothes as the both of you strip to nothing. 

Deku’s in between your legs, one hand pressed to the back of your knee, the other gripping what you believe is his dick because it makes everything in the world freeze as you see it. It’s huge, so thick that his hand wraps around it in a nice grip, and it long, curling up to his abs, curved and veiny. 

“Holy shit,” you squeak, your cunt already clenching at the thought of taking that in. 

“Are you ready?” Deku asks, the hand on your leg moving away for a moment as he cards his fingers back through his hair. “I don’t have a condom, though.”

“That’s fine, I don't care,” you dismiss his words, eyes too focused on the flush cock in his hand. “I don’t think I’ll live after you kill me with that anyways.”

Deku laughs just a bit, his dimples flashing as he leans in and kisses you deeply. You tremble underneath him, feeling so small pressed up against him, and you mewl when you feel the head of his cock pressing between your folds.

“Put it in,” you gasp, leg lifting and wrapping around his waist, “put it in! I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, do you understand?!”

Deku nods, and with a sense of frantic need, his hand guides his cock into you.

It feels like you’re splitting in half. The girth of his cock stretching your walls out to the max, and he’s only going in. You scream loudly, both in pain and pleasure because it hurts so good.

“Take it, baby, take me all in,” Deku pants, his hips pushing out small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your twitching cunt. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You’re taking me all the way in. F-Fuck… you’re so amazing! So fucking perfect!”

Tears are pouring out of your eyes, and your nails are tearing into his back, you sob slightly overwhelmed with his cock and the absolute pleasure of finally getting what you want and it being so much better than you thought. Your cunt throbs almost violently as Deku’s cock finally hits your cervix and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts in further, lips attempting to claim yours. 

“Fuck me, Deku,” you beg, hips beginning to slam and fuck up onto his cock. “Please! I need you!”

“Such a desperate little villain though,” Deku sighs, teasingly, giving you one strong thrust for good measure. It goes a long way though, the power behind his thrust and thighs promising you a bruised ass, thighs, and cunt makes your mouth water for more. “I need you to promise to never do anything like that again and be a good little manager for Kacchan.”

“W-Wha–”

“Be good and stop being Mirage, or else you won’t be fucked.”

There was no hesitation.

“Okay.”

And just like that, Deku’s soft smile curves into a knowing, fierce smirk, and you can do nothing as his hands press to the back of your knees and he begins thrusting his hips into you. And it takes you completely out of control. 

It’s a messy, frantic dance, your body holding onto his, your lips pressing against his, desperate and needy for his, and he is basically trying to imprint his body onto yours, the concrete, and the walls. Your bodies are so foreign to each other, and yet, when he fucks into you just a bit hard, just a bit faster, you come undone, back arching and toes curling as you sob his name.

It’s overwhelming to know that he can read you this well and for you to have never fucked him before. It’s empowering to see that he likes every forced and involuntary squeeze and clench of your cunt. He loved when your nails dug into his skin, raking their existence against the plane of broad muscles and scars. 

Deku curses your name as you clench around him, his hands moving to your jaw so that he can lift your face to kiss him just so. He kisses you with a heated passion, a need that strips your entire being bare, and his hips slam so loudly against you, the slicked wetness is squelching and slapping with every grunt and moan.

In and out his cock goes, and you praise him and his cock.

You praise him for making you feel so good, for stretching out your pussy with that fat cock of his. You beg for more, and more, and more. You want every snap of his hips to send new colors to your vision, and every echoing squelch of your meeting, sloppy sexes only adds to the blabbering, unmanaged sentences from your lips. 

“Harder, faster, more!” you beg, practically wailing against his shoulders, needing him more and more. The concrete hurts against your back, but you don’t care. You don’t care if he breaks your back, it’s a fall you’ll take. “Don’t hold back! Don’t you dare hold back!”

“Fuck, you’re crazy,” Deku gasps, his sweaty brow burying into your cheek. “I won’t though, I won't. Be ready, I’m not sure if you can take it.”

Before you can snap back that you can in fact take it, Deku’s weight falls heavier onto you and the angle shifts just slightly, and your words are ripped right out of your throat for a pitched, window shattering screech. Deku fucks into you with a new power, some untapped strength as greenspark falls from his skin as he ruins you for anyone ever again.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the concrete was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Deku’s fingers shove into your mouth, and his other hand wraps around your neck, silencing your words and noises as he fucks up into you again and again and again.

“So loud, angel,” Deku smirks, fingers stroking and pinching your tongue as saliva pours endlessly from your mouth. His voice isn’t strained however, doesn’t have any indication that he’s out of breath or ready to tap out and that nearly makes you go insane. “I can’t wait to see everything that makes you look like this… you’re so pretty when you’re getting fucked.”

Your head is spinning, the heated tightness in your core clenching and throbbing as his conquesting cock never once stops or lessens. It just grows and grows and grows. His cock twitches in you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lets out a deep moan. 

“Such a good and wet cunt you are,” Deku gasps as you gag against his fingers that press roughly against the back of your tongue. Your vision feels hazy, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine as his hand on your throat opens and closes, demonstrating his power over you. “I’m so glad you went through all this hard work to get me to fuck you.”

You can’t speak, so you nod desperately, you were so happy you did this too. 

Your hips buck up into him with sheer stubborn drive to get him to toss his head back and moan, you wanted to see him unhinged too. Your eyelashes flutter, as his hands remove themselves from your face, and they move to your hips to help you out. But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“I-I’m so close,” you manage to moan out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose at that revelation.

Deku nods, his head moving so that his forehead rests against yours as he looks deep into your eyes. “I need you to look at the way your belly bulges while I fuck you before you cum, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering monster of a cock. And just like that, the tight heat in you snaps without a hitch, and you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Deku, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him. 

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure he collapses onto his forearms above you. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

Deku is the first to move afterward, and you whine as he pulls his cock out of your sore, abused pussy. You make a noise of curiosity then fear as Deku spreads your legs even more open and moves so that his head is face to face with your cum filled pussy.

“What are you–?!” you screech as Deku takes a lick out of your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, this does taste good,” Deku smirks as he once again licks your overstimulated pussy and you sob. “Besides, who said we were done?”

.

.

.

.

.

bonus! 

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend y/l/n y/n!” Izuku happily introduced you to his group of friends.

“What the hell?!” Bakugou screamed, thrusting a finger at you and all you did was laugh.

So much for not being stubborn, huh.

[one-sad-human]

•Pinky Promises• Steven Adler

Pairing: Steven Adler x Reader, Axl Rose x Sibling! Reader

Requested? Yup! By an anon

Theme: Angst(?) to fluff

Warnings: Language, sexual references but nothing explicit

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Fic 1 of 2! Hope you enjoy! Also, the makeout near the end gets sorta hot and it was pretty fun to write? Like I’m considering exploring into writing smutter pieces. I didn’t want to originally because I thought I’d cringe all the way through and hate the result but I might try it out in the near future. Nothing too crazy but it’s something for me to think about.

     You step off of the large bus, your combat boots hitting the ground as you adjust the bag slung over your shoulder. It's stuffed to the brim with whatever you threw in, you're surprised the zipper did burst.

     You take a deep breath of the LA air. It's hot and humid and despite the thick air pollution, you can breath easier than you did in Indiana.

     You grew up in Lafayette, Indiana with your older half-brother William. You were raised in the hellish house with your shared father, which you finally managed to escape.

     William left right at eighteen. He tried taking you with him, but you didn't want him to be charged with kidnapping and have the cops on his ass. Now, two years and your father's stolen wallet later, you're finally in the city of dreams.

     "Will!" You yell out, spotting your redheaded other half.

     "Y/N!" He mocks, catching your figure in a crushing hug. He's taller than you, so you have to stand on your tippy toes during the embrace. "Thank God you're alright."

     "I'm fine, I'm happy to finally see you again," you say, a huge grin on your face. "How's the band? Everything going well?"

     "Well enough," he says with a shrug, grabbing your heavy bag and slinging it around his shoulder. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the guys. You already know Izzy of course, but the rest of them."

     The walk to the 'hell house' as Will had called it is filled with catching up. He made sure to keep in contact with you, but the phone calls were always short. It felt nice to have a full length conversation in person with your brother again.

     "Welcome home," Will says, leading you into the house. You grimace when you catch a whiff of stale beer and weed.

     "You seriously live here? This place should be condemned," you say with disgust.

     "And then where would we live?" The oh-so familiar voice of Will's best friend meets your ears. You whip around and fly into his arms.

     "Jeffery! I missed you so much! You really should've tried calling, you ass!" You exclaim. Izzy rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless, patting your back during the hug.

     "Who's this?" Another man enters the living room— if that's what it should even be called. He's blonde, taller than you but shorter than the other two men in the room. He has kind eyes and the smile he has on his handsome face leaves you speechless.

     "U-uh, hi. I'm Y/N," you say after a moment of shameless gawking. If he noticed, he doesn't mention it.

     "Oh that's right! Axl talks a lot about you! I'm Steven," he says and bounds up to you, catching your hand in a shake. You don't question who the hell 'Axl' is, but you smile stupidly at him and bite your lip with a blush staining your face.

     "No," Will says, glaring at the cute blonde you've taking an immediate liking to. "Absolutely not."

     "William!" You squeak out, pinching his shoulder harsher. He yelps and swats your hand away. Will glares further at you as he ushers you up the creaky stairs to your room. "Nothing happened! And who the fuck is 'Axl'?"

     "I saw how you were looking at him! I'm not naive, Y/N. You were giving him the 'fuck me' eyes! And me, everyone calls me Axl here." You give him a look. "Except you, of course. You can call me Will."

     You don't give him another word as he leads you to your bedroom. He was the one who didn't have a roommate before, and he'd have to share with Slash now but he was determined to give you your privacy.

     "This is the only room with a working lock, use it. Especially when your changing! Three horny men in a house with one you isn't a good combo." You make a face and shake your head, but you can't really tell if he's being overprotective or if his band mates really are pigs.

     "Are you not including Izzy?"

     "Please, he's the only smart one besides me. He knows I'll rip him a new one." You laugh and give Will another hug.

     "I've really missed hanging out with you like this, and thank you for letting me stay here." He nods and rubs your back.

     "No problem, we have each other's backs, always." You nod and release your bother from the hug. "One rule though: no hooking up with the guys. One time thing or not, you don't know them like I do, I won't let you get hurt. So don't even try anything with Steven!"

     "Even if it's nothing sex?" Will levels you with a look that would make you sweat if you were anyone else. You sigh and roll your eyes. "Fine! I promise."

     "Pinky promise?" He asks, holding out his pinky finger. You shake your head but comply anyway, hooking your pinky on his.

     "Wow, bringing out the big guns, pinky promises," you tease.

     "Bitch," he mumbles. You gasp sarcastically.

     "Asshole!" You reply. William takes his leave with another slew of insults under his breath but none to be taken seriously and all with a smile. You shut your door after him and lay on your bed, content with how things are finally beginning to look up.

If you knew where you would be in just a few months of living with your brother and his band, you never would've agreed to the naive promise Will had forced on you. You think back to the day with a frown.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Steven asks, pecking your bare shoulder as he lays behind you on your bed. You both lay naked and damp with sweat, glowing from the moonlight streaming in the room.

"William," you say with a sigh.

"We just had sex and your thinking of your brother? Should I be worried about you?" Steven asks teasingly. You fight the smile growing on your face and lightly pinch the his arm tightly wrapped around you. He never fails to make you laugh.

"I just feel bad keeping this a secret from him." You turn around to be face to face with Steven. "It's been months of sneaking around. I'm always nervous we'll get caught together or I'll blurt it out to him."

"Then why don't we just tell him?"

"Do you want to die! Steven, honestly, do you have a death wish?"

"No, but—"

"Then we can't tell my brother we're together. He'll murder you, and then probably me one he finds out how long I've been lying to him," you say and move your head in the crook of Steven's neck.

"Then we can be together in the afterlife!" Steven folds his arms around you even tighter. "Seriously though, we can't lie to him forever. We've been together for six months already, surely he'll see how much we care about each other and not want to kill us."

"Yeah, maybe," you say halfheartedly and close your eyes, finally letting yourself fall asleep.

The next night, Guns has a gig at the Whiskey A-Go Go. The ritual goes like it has been, they play the gig, you wait for Will to get drunk, and you and Steven sneak out to the back of the club to make out and maybe get felt up a bit before returning like nothing happened.

It isn't different this time. Steven's hands leave your skin ablaze as he lets them wander down your sides and up your thighs. His lips don't leave yours, even as he squeezes your ass and you let out a moan. He grins on your mouth and presses his pelvis up to your stomach.

His mouth leaves yours to press feather light kisses to your cheek before trailing down your jaw and onto your neck, where he sucks nips at. You have to press a hand to your mouth to stay quiet.

"Don't leave marks," you remind him through batted breath.

"I won't," he reassures and silences you with a chaste kiss to your swollen lips before returning his attack on your neck.

You hear footsteps fast approaching, but as quickly as you hear them, Steven is ripped away from you. He's slammed into the brick wall next to you harshly and groans. You jump away and gasp.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" William asks, his voice lower than usual. His green eyes dark and downright scary.

"Will! Let him go, come on. Stop fucking around, you didn't have to slam him into a wall," you say, but your shaky voice falls on deaf ears as Will doesn't move. Your hands grasp at his arm and try to yank him away from Steven, but he's stronger and taller than you and doesn't budge, he just keeps his eyes focused on Steven.

"Nothing!" He squeaks out. Even in the dark, his kiss bruised lips and flushed red face is obvious.

"'Nothing?' That's why you were ten seconds away from fucking Y/N?" Will asks.

"William stop it! You're scaring me! Leave him alone!" You push him again and this time, he relents. Will paces and runs his hand through his red locks while you rush to make sure Steven is ok.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Steven mutters and presses a kiss to your brow to comfort you, sending you a smile when he pulls away. He keeps his hands on your arms and rubs circles with his thumbs.

"How long has this been going on?" Will asks, crossing his arms as he finally stops his pacing.

"Six months..." Steven says nervously. William scoffs and shakes his head. "But it isn't just fucking around! I love them, Ax. Really."

You smile bashfully, biting your lip to try and contain it. You knew you felt strongly for Steven and that he returned the feelings, but you haven't outright said you loved each other— until know of course.

Will stays silent for a few beats, staring contemplative at Steven. He finally sighs, bring a hand up to rub his temples like he has a building headache.

"Yeah? And you love him, Y/N?" He asks. You nod, reaching out to grab Steven's hand. Steven lets a grin creep on to his face. "Then I guess I can't stop you. But if you ever break their heart, I'll fucking gut you, Adler."

If Will makes Steven nervous, he doesn't show it. He gives him a salute with his puppy dog like smile before sticking out his pinky.

"I promise I'll never hurt Y/N purposely, ever." Will rolls his eyes, the irony makes him nearly groan aloud. He sucks it up anyway when he sees your hopeful expression, hooking his pinky onto Steven's.

"Don't make me regret this, Steven," Will grumbles before leaving and walking back into the crowded club. Steven lets out an exhilarated laugh and kisses you, hard.

"Told you he wouldn't kill me!" Steven exclaims, making you laugh out of surprise.

"And we don't have to sneak around anymore!" Steven kisses you again, and again and again until you're breathless.

"I'm so in love with you," he mumbles between his attack on your lips. You smile, tangling your hands in his aqua-net filled hair.

"As I am with you."

[wreckmetoji]

Fight for your love

A fic in which your boyfriend’s job keeps you from obtaining what you want the most.

↳ Geto Suguru/Reader

content warning. fluff, smut, established relationship, afab reader, oral(f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, profanity

**Minors DNI**

2.5k words

In no way did Suguru think he was a clean, righteous person. He knew many decisions he made weren't the right ones, he knows he's had to hurt innocent people. But the way you looked at him every time he walked through the door made him believe he was. The gentle tender love and care tending to his wounds after a long day of work gone bad, hurting innocent people. You never seemed to mind, never seemed to ask, never seemed to care if the way you kissed his bruised, bloody knuckles spoke what your heart was thinking. Every time he tried to bring up his line of work, knowing there was a good chance one day you might get dragged in despite how hard he tried to keep you separate, keep you secret, you simply shook your head and smiled at him. As long as you're you, I don't care what you do, you'd say. As long as I'm happy with you here and now, I don't care what happens later. Suguru would be lying if he said he didn't come to the conclusion he couldn't live without you right there, right then, the first time you said those words with your blindingly bright smile. Everyone was far from perfect, except you. There was no such thing as perfect, except you– and sometimes, you made him feel perfect too. "I know you can't help it, but," You muttered, tongue poked out between your lips as you tied the bandage around his torso with utmost concentration, "If you're gonna get hurt, try to avoid something this close to your heart." His softened gaze followed your fingers as you gently caressed the bandages above his deep cut, the pain not even registering with how gently, how lovingly you treated him. "After all, if your heart gets hurt, so does mine." He knew, deep down, he didn't deserve you. "I'll try my best, darling." Suguru smiled, hands gently finding your hips, his forehead leaning into your chest as you cradled him from your standing position. There you stayed, slowly, gently swaying in comfortable silence. You made him feel virtuous, as if mere hours ago he didn't commit horrible, unforgivable atrocities, unforgivable and damning sins. This is how most of your evenings together would go, patching him up, dancing around each other in the kitchen as you made dinner together, if he was ever home early you'd watch a movie together. Even if it was rare with the long hours he worked, those were the days he cherished, those were the days that got him through it all. You never asked for more, even though he knew you deserved every second of his time, you deserved the world and the heavens above. What were you if not a goddess, damned to mortality, damned to a life loving him. Suguru held you close as you laid in bed, the rain pattering on the window lulling you both into a comfortable half-asleep daze. He noticed the way you kept some distance, trying not to irritate his fresh wound. "Sugu," Your voice called, urging him to open his eyes and gaze down at you. Your sudden silence intrigued him, and the way your ears went pink intrigued him even more. "What is it, little lamb?" Suguru sounded tired, voice gravelly from a long day. He kissed the crown of your head, rubbing soft circles on the small of your back, urging you to talk to him about what you so eagerly wanted to get out. "Maybe one day–" You paused again, fists balling at his bare chest, "One day, would you want to start a family?" The thought had most certainly crossed his mind, on several occasions. Suguru would regularly daydream about a peaceful life of domesticity with you, a child or two, a nice house in a nice neighborhood with a nice, respectable job. He'd always snuffed the idea, knowing that he probably wouldn't live to see his child grow up properly. Still, though, the way you pressed your cheek into his arm and stared at him with wide, inquisitive eyes had him smiling sadly. "My beautiful angel... Under different circumstances, I wouldn't have to think twice." He didn't want to lie to you, but the frown tugging at your lips had his heart clenching in his chest. "We could go somewhere they can't find you, we could move somewhere warm and sunny." Suguru chuckled at your optimism, though a twinge of sadness was behind it. They would find him, no matter what he did or where he went. He didn't dare say it, he knew your response already, that's just an excuse. "That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Your silence told him everything he needed to know. There wasn't anything he could say, so instead he kissed your forehead, your cheek, your nose, then your lips. There he lingered, sighing gently when your hands moved up to his shoulders, then his neck. Heightened by your saddened state, the way you pulled him closer, fingers brushing through the hair on his neck, thumbs stroking his jawline, was all so desperate. It was your silent plea, your attempt to change a fate already set in stone. "I can't stand to see you sad, little lamb." He smiled against your lips, slowly shifting on the bed until he was hovering over you. Those eyes, the way you looked at him, so wide and clear and swimming with emotion. So pure, so untainted, so good. Everything he wasn't, and everything he strives to be. "I'll make it up to you, darling," He kissed you again, then your chin, then your neck, "I promise." Only when he received a nod of approval did he proceed, gently pulling your underwear off, oh so gently helping you lift your night shirt over your head. Never in the years you'd been together has he grown accustom to just how lucky he is to exist on this world at the same time you did. "You're so beautiful, absolutely perfect. Have I told you this?" Of course he has, but the smile on his face was so cheeky, so mischievous it made you giggle. "Maybe once or twice." Suguru returned your laugh, pulling his hair back into a bun with the hair tie on his wrist, before descending down your body. Every place he stopped, he kissed, nuzzled, nibbled, eliciting a sigh from you nearly every time. The sight of your eyes closing and head tilting back once he reached your core, giving your bundle of nerves a sweet kitten lick, was akin to seeing God. Surely it was the holiest thing he would witness in all his time on this earth. You were, after all, nothing short of an angel. Making himself more comfortable, Suguru gripped your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders. The soft look you gave him, those sweet eyes, your perfect parted kiss-plumped lips... "Beautiful," Was all he whispered into the plush skin if your thigh before parting you with his thumbs, gently kissing, licking, and sucking your sensitive clit. The long whine you emitted only spurred him on, fingers teasing your entrance by touching and squeezing everywhere but where you wanted. Admittedly, it's been a while since the two of you got intimate time together. Either he would come home too late, or too hurt, for the two of you to comfortably do anything. You never seemed to press. "I'm sorry I haven't been taking care of you, little lamb," Suguru replaced his mouth with his hands, thumb swirling circles around your bundle of nerves, while his index and forefinger ever so slowly entered your heat. He set an immediately fast pace, fox-like eyes drinking in your pleasure twisted face. The sweet sounds dripping from your mouth were like music to his ears, the arch of your back from the mattress eliciting a dark chuckle from him. "I know I haven't been the most solicitous boyfriend as of late," His fingers curled inside you at his words, "I hear you in the shower, you know." He kissed his way back up your body, stopping only briefly to flick his tongue across a pebbled nipple, stopping mere centimeters away from your lips. He wanted to bask in your whines and moans for just a moment longer, his personal hymn. "Naughty little thing, never asking for help." Suguru didn't get to tease you for long, your hands finding quick purchase on his cheeks, tugging him down and kissing him with desperate force. Your frenzied, open mouthed kisses were met ten-fold, a slow, low moan coming from him at the uncharacteristic abrasiveness you were displaying. The way your walls clenched around his fingers let him know just how bad you'd been needing him, the whispered I'm cumming against his lips. When your hand came down to palm at his very hard erection outside his briefs was when he decided he'd have to reign you in much tighter than usual tonight. Tonight wasn't about him. His fingers worked in tandem with your heaving chest, every push and pull in sync with your hurried breaths. He had half a mind to pin your arms above your head and fuck you stupid with his fingers, but he couldn't deny you of what you really wanted. "I know you're eager, darling, but be good." He saw the shiver run up your body at his authoritative tone, one he didn't use often. At the same time, he pulled down his boxer briefs and added his ring finger to your dripping cunt. It isn't that he had to, he knew you were already perfectly wet for him, he just loved the way your thin fingers gripped the sheets, the way your head thrashed from side to side. Very briefly, Suguru entertained the thought of a golden band wrapped around his finger as he defiled you with his hands. How beautiful it would look disappearing, reappearing, covered in your slick. It made his cock twitch. The second he removed his sopping fingers from you, he'd lined up the thick head of his cock with your trembling sex, leaning back with his hands on your knees. He could see the surprise on your face, your arm half-way reached to the bedside drawer to get a condom. "I know," He crooned, stroking your knee. Admittedly, the two of you weren't diligent with using condoms when you didn't have to, but he was well aware this was the week you really should be using them, lest you want unexpected surprises. Your teary eyes and beaming smile could put the pearly golden gates of heaven to shame. The way you squealed as he pushed in had his own eyes rolling back, forcing your knees apart further until he had completely buried himself to in your welcoming heat. Having been a while, he had to take a shaky breath before slowly, ever so slowly, pulling out to the tip, pushing back in with a bit more haste. How quickly, and how tightly, you wrapped your legs around his waist nearly winded him, enraptured cries of faster, please, I need you making him groan. "You poor thing, so needy," Suguru barely managed to breathe out, hips moving at a steady pace. The obscene sound of your slick sticking to his hips every time he tenderly fucked into you made him acutely aware of exactly how long its been. Ashamedly aware of how close he was to his climax, Suguru's thin fingers moved between your bodies, sliding in a quick back and forth motion against your clit at an attempt to get you closer, faster. The immediate reaction had his hips stuttering, your gummy walls clenching intensely around him, your impending orgasm pushing him over the edge. He only briefly stopped moving, whispering an apology into your hair as he tenderly flipped your body. Having you lay prone was one of your favorite positions, but it was mostly done to hide the embarrassed pink tint climbing up his neck from your gaze. White seed squished out and dripped down your sex, between your thighs, when he pushed back into you, the feeling alone having you throwing your head back and crying out for him. He continued his unrelenting pace, seeming completely unfazed by his own orgasm. "You like that, hm?" Suguru teased, a hand sliding down the curve of your hip, reaching under you, pressing his palm flat against where he felt himself protruding on your pelvis. "You like getting filled up with my cum, you want me to fuck a baby into you, darling?" His lewd words elicited muffled screams and cries of affirmation, your face buried in a pillow and biting down. Usually, Suguru would save his dirty talk for rough, frustrated, passionate sex, but how badly you needed him, begging him, to fill you up again had his mind hazy. He knew you well enough that you didn't have to tell him you were coming undone. "Such a good girl, you're so– so good, cum for me." Demanding words had you squeezing around his cock, the flutter and spasm of your orgasm urging him to move faster, harder, climbing another of his own release. Suguru was much more vocal this time around, hissing through clenched teeth, muttering sweet nothings and your name and I love you, I love you, I love you so much. Rutting and rolling his hips into you as he coated your walls white, his arm came around your chest and hugged you back against him. He pressed long, searing kisses into the shoulder his chin had been resting on, only pulling out from your messy cum-coated slick once he was sure you were satisfied with how thoroughly he bred you. You tiredly collapsed back into his chest, head turned to lazily gaze up at his equally tired, smiling face. He knew what transpired was irresponsible at best, the weight of parental responsibility already settling in the back of his mind. For now, he would simply entertain the idea. The inquisitive gaze you held had him chuckling, kissing your cheek tenderly, as if that would answer all the questions he could see you wanted to ask him. He never fed you lies, but when he told you everything will be okay, we'll find a way, I promise it sounded almost sincere enough to pass as the truth. Soft strokes of your hair lulled you to sleep, but Suguru found himself wide awake and staring at your beautiful lips, nose, lashes, the curve if your jaw, the dips of your collarbone. He found himself thinking of your words more than he should, knowing what the outcome would inevitably be. He came to the conclusion that for you, he would fight for his freedom. He would fight for you, for a family, for a normal life, somewhere warm and sunny. In this life, in the next life, in the afterlife, he would fight for you and love you with everything he had, his beautiful guardian angel.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

For Us Sinners

Soulless Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~4130

Warnings: This is 100% pure smutty religion-themed filth. Sam is dressed as a priest. There’s sex in a confessional, severe perversion of the Hail Mary prayer, and a lot of blasphemy happening. Like. A lot. Orgasm denial. Squirting. Non-explicit mentions of Winchester threesomes, gun play, and knife play. 

A/N: For @stusbunker​‘s “Jam Basket” fic exchange! This is for the lovely @rockhoochie​. I managed to squeeze a decent amount of her jams in here. Sarah, my dear, I hope this makes you even a little bit as happy as your friendship makes me. 

Thanks to @cracksinthewalls​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ and @fookinghelljensensthighs​ for lore, encouragement, and inspiration! 

You’re frowning at the trunk arsenal, wondering if it’s possible to sharpen a machete too much, when movement catches your eye. Sam rounds the corner of the old warehouse, and you grab a knife and a whetstone just to have something to focus on that’s not him and his stupid smirky face or the way his shoulders look in that suit. 

The whole priest thing is a really good look on him. 

“Dean’s not back yet?” he asks, without preamble, sitting on the edge of the trunk next to you. You focus very intently on your knife. 

“Nice to see you too, Sam,” you snark, to cover the way you’re blushing. “Why yes, I did have a super fun afternoon of doing fucking nothing! Waiting around for you two is exactly how I wanted to spend the last three hours, thanks for asking.” 

He laughs. “Weren’t you just telling me that I should stop pretending to be normal polite Sam?” 

“Whatever,” you mutter. 

“Lemme see that,” he says abruptly, and plucks the knife from your grip before you can protest. He takes one look at it and laughs at you, twirling the blade in his fingers. “Working out some frustration, huh?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“What’s really going on? You’re only like this when you’re hungry or horny.” 

“Bullshit,” you snap, but he’s totally fucking right. He’s way too perceptive these days. 

You’ve been refusing to play poker with him ever since this whole soulless deal came to light. He’s like a walking polygraph test… a very attractive, muscled polygraph who’s really good in the sack. 

He’s analyzing your expression with his head cocked. “The knife thing?” 

“I don’t know what you’re — that’s not—”

He holds the tip of the blade to your throat, and you stop stammering immediately. You close your eyes and swallow hard. 

“That’s not new, though,” he says thoughtfully. 

When you open your eyes, ready to protest, he’s tucking the knife back in its sheath and twisting to set it in the trunk. 

“How’d you know about that?” you ask reluctantly. 

He just smirks, that godawful not-Sam not-smile, with his dimples popping and his eyes glittering. 

“One of these days you’re going to realize that I’ll never judge you,” he says, low and sly. “C’mon. Tell me.” He puts on a prim, sanctimonious face, pointing at the collar, and says, “Confess your sins and all will be forgiven.” 

He ruins the pious effect by licking his lips and aggressively eye-fucking you. 

You try to laugh, but it comes out all squeaky. You’ve never been good at poker, and if Sam’s smirk is anything to go by, he can see exactly what’s written all over your face. 

“Shut up,” you say preemptively. “Asshole.” 

“This is totally doing it for you, isn’t it?” Sam asks. 

“Shut up.” 

His smile is gleeful. “Oh my god, it is!” 

“That’s not — I’m not—” 

You grit your teeth and stand up abruptly, and it’s not like you can go anywhere but you need to move; it’s impossible to think straight when he’s right there and he smells so good. 

He gets up so quickly you barely have time to blink before he’s in your space. He backs you against the warm metal of the door, caging you in with one big hand planted on either side of your head, and you have to tilt your chin up to meet his wickedly sparkling eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, soft and heated, lips curling up in a familiar dangerous smile. “Lying is a sin.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you huff, but you can’t stop staring at his mouth. 

“Besides, I can always tell. Admit it.” 

“You are so fucking—”

Without warning, he’s tugging at your zipper, yanking the button open, and shoving a hand roughly down the front of your jeans as he murmurs, “You are so fucking into this.” 

Before you can protest (not that you’d really want to) he’s got two fingers sliding into you, curling sweet and easy where you’re ridiculously, undeniably, outrageously into this. 

“Maybe a little bit,” you sigh. 

He’s just smiling, watching you squirm, playing with you like a cat might play with a mouse, and as much as you’d like to be angry about it, he knows exactly how to use those clever fingers. Then — 

“Dean’s back,” he says calmly, and before you can even process that, he’s sucking his fingers clean and walking around the car to greet his brother. 

You have about three seconds to button your pants, thank your lucky stars that you were on this side of the car, and generally get your shit together before it’s back to business. 

“It’s a goddamn garden statue,” Dean is saying. “Some crazy old bat donated it to the church and then just up and left town. First person disappeared the next day.” 

“So we wait til dark, take it down, break the curse.” Sam shrugs. “Easy enough.” 

“Like a chant ‘n’ smash,” you offer. Both the boys give you blank looks, and you try to pretend like your brain isn’t totally scrambled. “You know. Like a salt and burn. A good old-fashioned chant and smash… no? Okay, whatever.” 

Sam is barely containing his laughter. Asshole. 

“I could use a nap before we do that, I’m wiped,” Dean grumbles, taking off his clerical collar as he slides into the driver’s seat. Sam keeps his on. 

As you’re all getting buckled, he says, “Why don’t you just let us handle this one, Dean? You should take the night off.” 

“If you guys want some privacy to bone, you can just say so,” Dean grouches. “But get another motel room, don’t bring Baby into it.” 

“Yeah, we know. We will,” Sam reassures him. 

Dean does not seem reassured. He looks at Sam suspiciously. “So, what, you’re just being nice?”  

“Oh, absolutely not,” Sam says bluntly. “You look like shit and I don’t want you hunting with me when you’re this sleep-deprived.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, that I buy. Man, this whole soul-free honesty shit is gonna take some getting used to.” 

“You and me both,” you sigh, and Sam gives you a wink in the rearview mirror. 

 * * *

“That is the creepiest-looking angel I’ve ever seen,” Sam comments, striking a match. “And l’m including Zachariah in that. Okay, here we go.” 

He lights up the little bowl of herbs he’s concocted and says a few things in Latin, and then the smoke coming up from the bowl turns eerie green and seems to sink into the worn concrete. 

“Is that it?” you ask dubiously. “How do we smash it?” 

“That’s the fun part,” Sam says. He attaches a silencer and loads his gun, quick and practiced, and when you’re both out of shrapnel range he aims almost lazily while you try not to stare at his fingers. Bad enough that he’s still wearing the priest getup. Watching him shatter an angel with a few perfect shots shouldn’t be a turn-on, but…  

“Shouldn’t” is one of those words that lost most of its meaning when you and Sam started fucking. In the last two weeks, he’s managed to discover kinks you’ve never even admitted to yourself. 

Speaking of — 

“C’mon,” he says, and when the gun is deposited safely back in the arsenal, he grabs your hand without waiting for an answer, leading you around to a side door. The door isn’t even locked. Sam’s smile is gleeful in the moonlight. 

“What are we doing?” you ask, as he leads you inside. 

It’s almost completely dark, just a faint glow from the emergency exit signs to light the sanctum, until Sam takes out his matches and lights a few of the tall pillar candles that are arranged in nooks around the altar. The golden glow flickers and dances on the walls. 

Sam grabs you by the wrist, and you halfheartedly attempt to tug your hand away. He’s got that glint in his eye that can only mean trouble. 

“We really shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, as he pulls you over to the confessional. 

“What are they gonna do, condemn my soul to hell?” he says flatly, and you stifle a giggle. “We established a while ago that my immortal soul is fucked.” 

“Mine isn’t,” you mutter. 

He looks at you with another of those smirks and says, “That’s why you’re the one who needs to confess.” 

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” you sigh, but instead of answering, he crowds in close, pressing you up against the smooth dark wood of the confessional, and kisses you, all teeth and tongue and liquefying heat, until your lips feel bruised and your entire body is tingling. 

“Confess,” he whispers, and with one last grin, he points you toward one curtain and slips behind the other. 

If you’ve learned anything about Sam over the years, soul or no, it’s that there’s no point arguing when he’s made up his mind about something. 

Sam seems to have made up his mind. 

You pull the curtain closed behind you and sit on the little bench, and you have to breathe through some long-buried memories before the words come to your lips. 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you whisper.  “It has been… a long time since my last confession.” 

The flickering candlelight cuts through small gaps around the curtain, casting dancing shadows through the cramped space. Your cheeks are burning. 

“Sam?” you ask tentatively. “This feels stupid.” 

He lets out a low, cocky chuckle, and his voice is all sorts of promising when he replies, “Trust me, I’ll make it worth your while. Play along for me.” 

Fine. 

“Where do I start?” you mumble. “I drink, frequently. I have been dishonest. I gamble, and I do not dress modestly, and — I don’t know. What else?” 

“Do you have impure thoughts?” You can hear the smile in Sam’s voice. 

“Yes.”

“About what?” 

You swallow hard, closing your eyes, thinking about the way he looks right now. No preacher has ever looked so good in that black suit. “About… about you.” 

“Go on.” 

“About the way you feel inside me. About the way you fuck me.” 

“What did you think about last time you touched yourself?” 

Your breath hitches. “I thought… I imagined that you —” 

“Lying is a sin.” 

Fuck. 

That’s the thing about Sam; he won’t let you get away with politeness, or with half-truths, or with telling him what most guys would want to hear. 

Fuck him and his creepy polygraph spidey senses. 

“I imagined that it was Dean,” you whisper, cheeks burning. 

“And how did that go, in your fantasy?” There’s no trace of surprise or hesitation in his voice. 

“I was — he bent me over the hood of the car.” 

“That’s not the first time you’ve thought about him, is it?” 

“Sam, I don’t — this is weird,” you say, squirming slightly. 

“Why?” he says, and you keep waiting for the jealousy or the disgust to color his words, but all you can hear is curiosity. “Do you think about him while I’m fucking you?” 

You let out a long, measured exhale. “Yes.” 

“Have you thought about him walking in? Listening to us?”

“Yes. Sam, I don’t—” 

“Were you thinking about him a couple days ago, in the middle of the night? When you couldn’t seem to keep quiet?”

You shudder, pressing your thighs together. “Yes.” 

“Tell me.” When you hesitate, he continues, “I wondered… felt the way you were squeezing around my cock every time it got too loud. You wanted him to hear.” 

“I wanted him to — to imagine. I hoped he was awake, and that he was turned on, and—” 

“You wanted him to join in,” Sam supplies, when you falter. His voice sounds husky, now. “You were imagining both of us, huh? What else?” 

“Sitting in your lap, in the backseat, while he watches in the rearview,” you mumble, and now that you’ve started talking, it’s hard to stop: “I think about getting on my knees for both of you. Letting him have my mouth while you fuck me, or… one of you holding me down.” 

“Have you imagined us handcuffing you? Taking turns with you?” he asks calmly. 

“Well now I’m imagining it,” you huff, and your nervous giggle breaks the tension for a moment. 

“I know you’re holding out on me,” Sam purrs, when the silence starts to stretch. “Leave my brother out of it, if you’re getting all hung up on that. What else?” 

“I don’t know,” you mumble. 

“Trust me. God isn’t judging you and neither am I. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

You can’t bring yourself to spit it out, even like this. “That’s it.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice is silk and steel now. “Why don’t I take a guess?” 

“Fine.”  

“Knives,” he says bluntly, and your inhale is too sharp to be innocent. “You like the way a knife looks in my hands, the way it’d be dangerous if I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

“Yes.” 

“You want to know what it’d be like: cold metal on your skin. A knife at your throat, or... a gun to your temple.” 

You’re shaking. 

“How’d you know?” you whisper. 

“I pay attention,” he says simply, voice ragged, and then there’s a long pause before he asks, “Is that the end of your confession?” 

You’d almost forgotten where you are. You’re grateful the screen is still between you and Sam. 

“Yes,” you say, and because old habits die hard, you add, “I am sorry for these and all the sins of my past lives.” 

“As for penance…” You can hear the teasing note in it, and some of your self-consciousness dissipates. “You can begin by taking off your clothes.” 

“Here?” you laugh. “Sam…” 

“Here. Now.” 

You let out a tiny, nervous whine of protest, but you’re too turned on to care, not when you’ve already crossed so many lines tonight. 

Then you strip, taking off your clothes with shaking hands and setting them in a neat-ish pile in one corner of the tiny booth. It’s chilly, and you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling goosebumps run down your bare skin. 

“Okay,” you say softly. 

“Now... you can say ten Hail Marys,” Sam says, with that smirk in his voice again. 

“I — really?” you ask. 

Just as you’re thinking that’s all?, Sam is ducking through the curtain of the confessional, crowding you in and pushing on your shoulder until you sit back down on the narrow bench. Even in the barely-there flickers of light you can see the wicked smile on his face as he drops to his knees in front of you.  

“And you may not come until you’re finished,” he orders coolly. 

Then he’s hooking his arms under your knees, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you forward so that he can get that filthy smirking mouth on you. He licks a hot slick stripe up your center, swirling his tongue over your throbbing clit, and —

“Holy fucking shit,” you gasp, letting your head fall back against the wood with an echoing thunk, because whatever Sam’s doing with his lips is sending sweet fluttering waves of heat through your belly. “Oh my God, Sam, that’s—” 

“If you keep taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he growls, nipping at your inner thigh, “I’ll double it.” 

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” you start, and it’s been a while; Sam’s not the only reason you have to pause. “Fuck. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the — the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now—” Your voice breaks as you whimper, and you finish in one long rushed breath: “— and at the hour of our death, amen.”

“There you go,” Sam says, practically moaning the words against slick skin. You’re already having trouble thinking straight. 

You start all over again, trying to rush through it as quickly as possible, but you stutter as Sam fucks you shallowly with his tongue.  

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sam says, curling two long fingers into you.

Except it’s bad. In the short time you’ve been doing this, Sam has learned your sweet spots like nobody’s ever learned them before, and he’s not touching them now. This is barely a tease, compared to what you know he can do to you. It’s bad, and it’s going to get so much worse. 

You start to stammer through the third prayer. You’re so wet — from the thrill of the setting, as much as what he’s doing with his tongue — you can hear the slick thrust of his fingers inside you, dirty and distracting. 

When you pause for breath between “Mary” and “mother of God,” Sam hums low against your cunt, and you know he enjoys this, you know he gets off on it, but he lets out these noises that never fail to make you feel feverish, and now is no exception. It doesn’t feel chilly any more. By “amen,” you’re burning up. 

“Three down,” Sam murmurs. 

On the fourth “grace,” he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, and you make a high, squeaky, mortifyingly desperate sound. Your voice keeps breaking as you stumble through the next lines, until you end on a long, relieved groan. 

“Good girl,” he croons. “Six more.” 

“I can’t,” you hiss. 

“You can. And you will.” 

On “full,” Sam twists his knuckles, and you gasp, arching your back, squirming. He fucks you in the same rhythm as your words, dragging friction across your g-spot with every syllable, and when you try to speed up, rushing through it, you can’t even get to “sinners” without breaking off in a moan. He stops completely as you pant for breath, and as you mumble through the last lines, painfully slow, you’re rolling your hips, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, desperate for more. 

“That’s five,” Sam says. “I’ll give you a second to catch your breath.” 

With his free hand, he grabs one of your wrists, guiding your hand to the back of his head. His eyes flick up to you, watching hungrily, until you slide your fingers through the silky strands and tug lightly. 

You sigh. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

“Hope not,” he says, smirking against the crease of your thigh. “I’m into some weird shit, but I like ‘em warm and breathing.” 

“Ha fucking ha, Sam, that’s — fuck,” you choke, as he fits his mouth to your clit again, and this time he sucks lightly in time with the slow thrusts of his fingers.  You forget what you’re saying, somewhere around “God,” and stumble to the end in bits and incoherent pieces. 

“Six.” You realize you’ve got a death grip on his hair, all your muscles tensed-up and rigid with electricity that’s got nowhere else to go, but when you ease up, he pumps his fingers in deep and growls, “Harder.” 

He adds a third finger, and it’s so fucking good, so fucking much, filling you with fizzing pressure, and it takes most of your willpower to stop yourself from going under. 

You grit out, “HailMaryfullofgrace.” Lightning lances up your belly, and you squirm— “TheLordiswiththee.” — twist your fingers in Sam’s hair— “Blessedartthouamongwomen.” — muscles quaking, cunt clenching around perfectly curled fingers— “Blessedisthe. Fuck. Fruitofthywomb. Fuck — Jesus!” — tension surging and swelling  — “Holy Mary, mother of God, prayforussinnersnow, fuck, Sam!” — you’re almost there, almost, and he stops, refusing to give you what you want as you gasp out, “And —at the— the hour of our death, amen.” 

“Seven,” he says harshly, and you can feel him breathing hard, damp hot air teasing your slick swollen skin, and his mouth is so close to where you want it. He gives you a second and then: “Keep going.” 

You babble out a few words at a time, and your voice is ragged and broken, but it must sound close enough to what he wants; he’s winding you up again, fingers crooking expertly against that sweet spot. The heel of his other hand digs into your lower belly, right over that point of white heat, and it’s so intense, suddenly, that everything goes sparkly and distant.  

“Pray for us,” you groan, and he sucks, fast and hard. “Pray for us — us sinners —” 

There’s this pressure, right there, right where his fingers are stoking a fire, and it’s blazing, and —

“Sam, I can’t. I can’t, I’m gonna—” 

He’s not holding back, and you can’t either. You buck helplessly against the incredible suction of his mouth, holding him with both hands fisted in his hair as you bow up and cry out. All that pressure peaks, crashing down in wave after wave of relief, pulling you under like a rip tide as you come dripping-wet and messy. 

It blinds you, for a moment. You’re out of your body for who knows how long, lit-up and paralyzed by the high-voltage shock of it. 

When you come back to yourself, Sam is scooping you up and swapping places with you in one smooth movement, manhandling you so that you’re straddling him; he’s got his pants open just enough, can’t seem to wait any longer, and the breathless urgency is so unusual for him that your head spins. 

You’re still clenching through the lingering quakes of your orgasm, trembling, boneless like a rag doll, and it’s not you sinking down on his cock so much as him pulling you, filling you up inch by inch as you squeeze and quiver around the thick length of him. 

When he’s as deep as he can be, his arms wrapped around you and practically crushing you to his chest, you both pause and take a ragged gulp of air. 

“What even was that?” you slur, bracing yourself with a hand against the wall and trying to adjust. He lets out a rough groan through gritted teeth. 

“That is what I’ll be seeing every time I look at a confessional now,” he pants, starting to rock up into you. “Never gonna be able to walk into a church without getting hard.” 

He wraps an arm around your ribs, and the heat of his splayed hand on your shoulder feels like it spans half your back. Your naked skin seems even more obscene as it brushes the stiff cloth of his suit, and you can feel your own wetness soaking the fabric in places. You shiver, roll your hips, and you can feel the way he reacts, shuddering under you. 

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes this a little too much,” you say, breathless. 

“Who said anything about too much? No such thing.” He barks out a laugh, bucking up in a way that makes you moan. “I’ve been to heaven, and trust me when I say, this right here—” He twists his hips viciously to emphasize the word. “— this is so much better.”

“God, this is so —” you whimper. He fists a hand in your hair and bites your neck, and you jerk helplessly against him. 

“God doesn’t care,” he growls. “God wasn’t listening to you just now.” 

“That’s not —” You’re pretty sure he’s missing the point, but with the way your cunt is throbbing at every perfect thrust, you can’t remember what that point is; you can’t remember anything. 

“God’s not going to answer those prayers,” he says hoarsely. “I’m the one who’s going to handcuff you and bend you over the hood of the car and fuck you until your legs give out.” 

“Holy shit, Sam.” Your brain is shorting out. 

“I’m going to make sure Dean sees you when you’re all strung-out and begging for it,” he promises. He jerks up with a vicious twist of his hips, and you grind down to meet him, every inch of your skin singing. “I’m going to hold a gun to your head while you ride me. I’m going to give you anything you want.” 

“Please.” Your moan sounds more like a sob, and you can’t see straight anymore; it’s all going distant, until the only thing that feels real is the aching, pulsing heat of him inside you. 

Sam claws at your back, dragging his open mouth up the side of your neck until he can snarl against your ear: “God doesn’t answer prayers, but I do.” 

He surges up to meet you one last time. Your vision flashes bright white as you come, one exquisite pulse after another rolling through you, and it feels like a purer sort of ecstasy than any religious experience you’ve had in a church.

This is worth a little hellfire. 

.

.

.

There is now a follow-up drabble here!

[lord-explosion-baku]

Disconnect

Yandere!Shinsou x reader

Warnings: yandere, adult themes, bordering Stockholm syndrome, hints of dubious consent

A/N: here’s another fic I posted and deleted a bit ago, but I edited it and revamped it a bit. I was in a weird place when I wrote this, but it’s content! Gonna stop impulsively deleting shit😂

“Are you in love with me?”

What a pathetic question. You know it is, but it’s been on your mind all damn day. That, amongst other things. Insecurities have been bombarding your brain and consuming your thoughts. They’re the kind that you’ve managed to repress for years, but today, while bored of all the nothing you had to do while Shinsou was away, they came at you full force, as if they were paying you back for forgetting about them.

Before Shinsou took you, happiness had been perpetually evasive. Some days you could pretend like it had been there, but that had just been a trick of the mind—a phantom emotion that muzzled how you’d actually been feeling.

The truth is, your friends—your family—everyone you know has always simply tolerated you. You could go to them when you were feeling down, but they never really wanted to hear your qualms. They’d always tell you anything you needed to hear to get you to stop whining. There’d been an art to ignoring how they grimaced at your attempted humor and hope for you to stop trying. They never wanted to hear about your interests or aspirations, either—most of them were too big for you anyways—but they would smile and wait for you to finish prattling on, then exhale with relief when it was over.

So, it hadn’t been like you could tell them how you felt, lest you wanted to risk being a ceaseless nuisance.

Some days you’d wondered if they wouldn’t mind if you just disappeared. Now you find yourself wondering what they think now that you have.

It’s fine. Rather, it had been fine when you were around them. However, the more time you’re forced to spend with Shinsou, the more you realize how unhappy you used to be.

You can’t say you’re happy now, either. With the reality of your situation, you’d actually have to be insane to say that you’re happy. A caged bird could never thrive if he couldn't fly. But Shinsou has been the first person that wanted to hear you talk about anything and everything. He wants to know you—to be there for you. He actually asks about your likes and dislikes, how you’re feeling, what he can do to make things better, while you’ve always been reluctant to answer him.

Still, you want to know. You want to be sure. You can assume that he does love you. Afterall, he’s taking care of you right now.

Earlier, he sensed that you were stressed and offered to give you a massage. Normally you would slink away from his touch, but you were feeling weak, so you said yes. You have to admit that having him touch you is... nice.

A deep groan escapes your chest when he presses on a particularly tense spot in your back, so he rubs the area more, making sure to massage all of your anxieties away. He leans down low to press his lips against the shell of your ear. You can feel the curl of his mouth when he says, “that’s a stupid question.”

I know. You want to tell him that, but you won’t. You won’t open up to him. You know he’d like that too much. It’s ironic, really. The one person who wants you to open up to them and it’s the last person on earth you’d want to tell anything too personal to.

“I wouldn’t have asked it if I didn’t need to hear the answer.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t in love with you,” he counters.

Touché, asshole.

“So the moment you fall out of love with me, you’re going to let me go.”

You very nearly say ‘you’re going to kick me out,’ but it’s not like you’re simply visiting with him. You’re there against your will. He's your captor, you’re his prisoner.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“But if it does-“

“It won’t.” Shinsou begins kissing down your spine. “Getting you here was a drag, but I won’t be letting you go under any circumstances.”

“Why?”

Darks skepticism envelopes his timbre when he asks, “why, what?”

You can't blame him. There’s been plenty of one-sided conversation where you’ve practically begged to be released, only to have Shinsou give you the cold shoulder. This won’t be another one of those discussions. You couldn’t bear it.

“Why do you like me?”

“Why do I like you, or why am I in love with you?”

You think about it for a second and decide to hell with it. You threw your dignity out the window the second you asked your first question. You hide your face in the pillow and mutter, “both.”

Shinsou hums against your back, pretending to consider the question while he squeezes your hips, pressing his thumbs into either side of your tailbone.

“Oh, god,” you sigh, pushing your ass up so he presses deeper on you, “that feels so good.”

“Reason one as to why I like you-“ Shinsou moves his hands down to your ass. He kneads your muscles, partly because he knows you want it, but mostly because he loves handling your ass- “you sound like that when you moan.”

“Be serious!” You bark back half-heartedly, because he seriously knows how to give a good massage, and you can’t stay annoyed when he’s touching you like that.

“I’m being plenty serious. It’s hot.” He squeezes your bottom, adding just the right amount of pressure to get you to moan again. He chuckles and thumbs the side of your underwear, letting it snap back to your skin pap! “So hot.”

“So, you like me because I’m hot?” You exhale when he squeezes more lotion onto your back, the cool sensation making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Well-“ there’s a shrug in his voice when he makes his way back up to your spine-“it’s one of the reasons.”

Shinsou begins listing things he likes about you: the curl of your hair, the dip in your hips, the curve of your ass, the way your nose scrunches up when you smell something you think is going to be nice, but is actually unappealing, and that “cute little mole in that one place,” he suggests, “you know, the one I like to kiss…”

It’s all almost nice to hear, except they all have one thing in common: they’re all physical. You won’t always look like what you do now. You don’t think that Shinsou is so superficial that he only judges you on your appearance, but you can’t stop the swelling in your chest.

“And I especially like your neck,” he whispers at the column of your throat, right before licking a stripe up to your earlobe. You shudder when he smiles against you. “So sensitive…”

“So that’s it?”

You’re being negative, demanding even, and you shouldn’t feel bad about it because it’s with Shinsou, but you do. You need to hear more. You need to feel like you matter.

“There’s loads more, but this is what I’m focusing on right now. My partner’s half naked in front of me and I’m only human.”

You turn to face him, maneuvering the pillow your head was on to the front of you, hiding Shinsou’s eyes both from your chest, and from the tears you’ve left behind.

“What about when I change?” You ask, squeezing your fluffy shield against your stomach.

“What do you mean?”

“Like-“ you bow your head, fiddling with the fringes on the pillow- “I don’t know. If I’m gonna be stuck here forever, then obviously I’m gonna age.”

Shinsou frowns. “So?”

“So...I won’t always be-“ you make a flippant gesture at him-“your version of hot!”

He snorts. “My version of hot? What’s that?”

“You tell me!”

He shakes his head, laughing as he brings his hand to the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “You’re my version of hot...it won’t matter if your hair turns silver, your skin wrinkles, you get all saggy and crinkly-“ he chuckles- “same thing’s gonna happen to me, only with my job, I might end up losing an arm or—heaven forbid—I get a scar over an eye.”

You dismiss that. “Scars can be hot.”

“Duly noted.” He smirks. “I might have to be extra reckless on my next mission. See how you react to my battle wounds.”

“Please don’t,” you say immediately. You gaze up at him to see that his usual sleep-ridden eyes have softened. Geez, he’s acting as if you said something nice to him.

“What’s going on with you?” Shinsou asks as his hand falls over your pillow shield. He tugs on it to move, but you keep it clawed to your chest. “C’mon...let me in.”

It’s hard because you want to. You want to let him in, and you’re stupid for it. At least you have the mind to shake your head at him.

“Alright then,” he says, “what do you like about me? Or should I say, do you like me?”

“No.” That part is easy enough to say. Even if it's a lie, which you aren’t sure if it is or not, you know it’s what you should say every time. Regardless of what he makes you feel, what he does for you, how he takes care of you, you’re still there against your will.

You don’t get a moment to feel guilty about saying it either, because as soon as the answer rolls off of your tongue, you freeze, unable to move or speak. Immediately you want to rebuke, tell him off, scream at him, but your body disobeys every single one of your furious demands. Shinsou hasn’t used his mind control on you too much lately, and you let yourself forget that he has it. You’re absolutely seething.

Bastard.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m a slave to my own whims.” Shinsou takes the pillow away from your body. His eyes scan over your torso appreciatively before finding the dark dots stained from your tears on the fabric of your pillow. He flexes his jaw, then places the pillow back behind you.

“Lay back,” he commands, and you’re helpless to oblige.

For a moment, the two of you are still. Shinsou’s staring at you, but not in a way that’s weird...er than normal. He’s seen you naked plenty of times, so he’s not being entirely a pervert. It’s only when he rolls down to level his face with yours, you see that there’s mist in his eyes.

“You’re intelligent,” he says, placing a hand over your navel, “and not in a way that’s annoying. You can hold stimulating conversations, and you think...differently, but you’re also interested in listening to divergent viewpoints.”

Shinsou starts moving his hand in circles, using his fingertips to draw intricate designs across your skin.

“You don’t know how to make a proper playlist, so when you listen to music, the weirdest shit comes on, and you sing along to all of it. And you’re so bad at singing, but you belt that shit out like you don’t even care.”

You kinda wanna hit him. You kinda wanna laugh. You kinda don’t wanna accept that you've gotten comfortable enough around Shinsou to actually sing around him, even if it’s in the goofy voice that you use.

“You’re kind to animals, you laugh in your sleep, you yell at inanimate objects, and you always read the last page of a novel once you’re halfway through it, which is infuriating, but it’s because you get so excited that you can’t stand not knowing what’s going to happen.”

Shinsou brings his hand up to cup your face. “You piss me off. You challenge me. You’re stubborn and defiant and abrasive and I-“ he pauses, sighing- “and I love it. I love every part of you—vexing vices and valorous virtues.”

He leans down so that his lips are a hair away from yours. His voice is tight, raspy from something he’s holding back, but still, he speaks. “I know I’m fucked up for this. I know you hate it here, but there’s no way in hell I’d ever let anyone else have you. You’re so fucking weird, and beautiful, and angry. You’re precious to me, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’ll always be in love with you. And that means damning you to me. I would say that I’m sorry, but I’m not. At least, not for keeping you. You’re the only thing I've ever wanted—the only sin I don’t regret.”

Your brain is ocean fog when his lips meet yours. He kisses you softly, because he doesn’t want to bring you out of your stupor just yet. His fingers travel down your sides, resting at the waistband of your panties. He pulls back and eyes you deviously.

“And if you don’t like me yet, I guess I’ll have to deal, but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna keep gunning for your affection.” He smirks, hooking his thumbs around the sides of your briefs. Your entire body flushes in direct reaction to him, anticipating what comes next. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

With a devilish glint in his indigo eyes, he smirks up at you and says, “at least I know some things you love about me”

[luna-writes-stuff]

Hey! I hope you're having a good dayyy

I saw ur requests are open and since ur lookin for sum,, can i request a thorin x reader fic (if ur still accepting hehe) where the story is similar to the ending part of the movie Artificial Intelligence (idk if you've watched that but ye the ending goes like this:

The boy (main character) wished to be with his mother again one last time, if only for a day :(( And so the aliens granted him this wish bbbut the mom didn't know she was already dead like after the sciency stuff, she woke up just like it was an ordinary day, and when the 24 hrs was up, she went back to sleep not knowing that that was the last time they'll be together :<<

So I was thinking maybe botfa?, either the reader or thorin died and then ^^^ anywayyy the magic is up to you ✨

I hope ur cool with dat,, if not that's perfectly fineee HAHA

One last day, Thorin Oakenshield

Just reading this request left me suffering. I hope I did your idea justice,,,,

anyways;

Headcanons, genderneutral pronouns

Tw: Pain. Lots of pain. Angst. Pain. Flashbacks to botfa. Pain.

- Thorin’s death had been the most difficult on you. You were left alone to rule a kingdom you didn’t have any experience with. Balin had helped you immensely, yet with every step you took, you felt as if you only worsened the kingdom.

- During the Battle of the Five Armies, you had been fighting on the other side of the planes, separated from your One. By the time you reached him, he had already left this world. You hadn’t even gotten a proper chance to say goodbye.

- And that thought had haunted you ever since that horrible day. Everyone had watched you dwelling, trying to guide others while you were unable to guide yourself.

- And then Gandalf finally decided that enough was enough. He had offered to help you say goodbye. If it would bring you closure, he’d do it for you. His terms were simple: he would bring Thorin back for one day, no more, no less.

- And you agreed, for obvious reasons. Perhaps a opportunity to say farewell would help you progress his death better. You had spent the entire evening thinking about what to tell him and what to do. You had been thinking non stop, until sleep finally caught up with you.

- The next morning, you (surprisingly) hadn’t woken up to the bright sun shining through your windows. It wasn’t the laughter and talking in the halls. It hadn’t been Balin knocking at your door. It had been snoring that woke you up. For weeks you had gone to sleep on your own, with nothing but darkness and silence surrounding you. But now, a snoring was heard. One that hadn’t been there the night before.

- You carefully turned around, but stopped halfway, noticing an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Your eyes quickly followed the trail of arms to hands, trying to understand exactly what was happening. The excitement of yesterday had washed your sense of reality within a matter of hours.

- Your breath had caught in your throat upon recognizing the hands. The rings it held, the small hairs resting on top of it, the way the fingers were shaped, but more importantly, the way they held you, the thumb resting gently as the rest of the hand held onto you. It had indeed been Thorin. Your Thorin.

- Tears had already started gathering in your eyes, harsh reality settling in. This was only for one day, but he was back. He was alive. Back with you.

- As the tears blurrier your vision, the quietest sniffle escaped your throat. Suddenly, the snoring beside you had stopped, an annoyed yet confused moan following it.

- You tried your best to get a hold of your emotions, but it was difficult when a scientifically dead person lay right next to you, as alive as you had been.

- “Amrâlîme,” he softly uttered, his voice deeper than usual, laced with sleep and confusion. Only hearing his voice again made another sob escape you, “are you alright?”

- His arm turned you around, now coming face to face with him. His hair was up in his usual braids, yet it was a bit tousled. He had his normal sleep attire on. Everything appeared as if it had been a normal morning. No injuries or blood covered his face and his eyes held life, instead of the horrifying look they had held when you saw him last time.

- Yet, as life had been shining from them, so was confusion and worry. His earlier question finally reached you and for once, you had no idea how to respond. What would you have to tell him. Would you give him the cold hard truth or enjoy your day of pretentiousness?

- “Just a bad nightmare.” You answered, trying to wipe your tears away. With no words left spoken, Thorin dragged you into his chest, your head resting on top of his heart. His beating heart. The sound of it alone, resurfaced a new pair of tears, your hands clinging onto his shirt tightly, holding him for a while, not ready to let go yet.

- Thorin had no idea what was happening or what had happened. In his eyes, you indeed just had a terrible nightmare and needed his comfort now more than ever. No nightmare has ever left you this shaken up, but he wasn’t there to ask you about it or to judge you about. He was content just laying next to you.

- The entire morning was just spent in bed, not even speaking that much, just holding onto each other, softly dozing off again, happy to be engulfed in his warmth and smell again.

- When finally deciding to get up, Thorin had been quick to grab you close to him, already busying himself with braiding your hair. The feeling had grown foreign to you, yet so nostalgic.

- As it became your turn to braid Thorin’s hair, you made sure you did your absolute best. Making them look perfect on your definite last day with him. You tried not thinking about it too long, knowing Thorin would grow concerned, and that was not how you wanted to spend your last day with him.

- When walking along the empty halls of Erebor, you held onto his arm, walking with him as if you were seeing the halls for the first time. He would tell you stories about the portraits or the stone that was being carved before Smaug took over. He would tell you about his heritage as he had done a thousand times before when in the Hall of the Kings. And you’d listen to it all. Occasionally offering a short question or a well appreciated comment.

- You had taken the opportunity to ask him about ruling and how to best approach certain situations, making sure to remember him after he’d be gone again. That way, there would still be a bit of him in control of the mountain.

- But the day had quickly run by, leaving you with only a few hours. You tried to make him stay awake all night, but Thorin was always looking forward to sleep. It had been there ever since the day the two of you met. His favorite time of the day had always been night, so he could let his worries fade away as sleep took him over, you content in his arms.

- And then you decided to finally ask that lingering question. Without thinking about it too long, you just asked him straight forward; “Thorin, I have a bit of a weird question to ask you.” You began. Immediately; his attention was on you, holding onto your hands gently.

- “Would all of this make it possible for you to die a happy dwarf?” A bewildered look flashed across his face, clearly taken aback by the question. “What makes you ask me that?”

- Now you had been driven in a corner. You had no idea how to respond. Should you be honest with him? Did you really have choice?

- Yet, a quick lie suddenly came to your rescue. “Just the nightmare I had tonight.” You explained, rubbing your thumbs over his hands. With that answer, Thorin smiled at you, one of his hands cupping your face, his figure stepping even closer to you.

- “With you by my side, I’d die anywhere a happy dwarf.” He commented sincerely.

- “You truly mean that?” You had questioned, not knowing if he had been just trying to soothe you or actually speaking the truth. But then yet again, Thorin had never been one for lying.

- “With all my heart, Amrâlîme. Truly.” And with that, he put a soft, yet lingering kiss on your lips, making you wish you could stay like that forever. You had believed him the moment he had uttered these words.

- “Now, I’m exhausted. We should go to sleep. It’s been a long day.” The dwarf concluded, toying with the end of your braids before dropping them. You mustered a tiny smile his way before climbing into bed.

- In a matter of moments, Thorin had been beside you, his arm around you like it had been this morning. You snuggled into his chest, playing with the rings around his fingers as his breath softly tickled your neck. Only now, your tears resurfaced.

- He hadn’t feared dying. Not as long as you had been with him. And you had been. For nearly all your life. You placed a small kiss on his hand. It was your small way of saying goodbye and thank you, but he didn’t know. For him, it had been a small sign of saying “I love you.”

- “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurdel. Sleep well.” Thorin mumbled, placing his lips on your lips, a regular goodnight kiss he’d give you. But it wouldn’t suffice this day.

- You turned around, wrapping your arms around him as you kissed his lips in response.

- “I love you, Thorin. You do know that, right?” You mumbled against his lips, nearly touching them.

- “Of course I do. Men lananubukhs menu, ghisvashel.” He whispered back, kissing you once more.

- When you were finally happy with your goodbye, you laid your head on his chest, satisfied to hear it beating for a moment. The soft tapping of it lured you to sleep after a while. Thorin followed you shortly after it, always falling asleep only after you had. He was holding onto your hands, a proud smile on his face.

- And that’s how he left again. Happy, with you in his arms, knowing he had reclaimed his homeland.

- Upon waking up the next morning, you hadn’t even been that sad anymore. You knew Thorin died a satisfied man, and it was enough to bring you the comfort you needed. And finally, after a long few months, you felt confident enough to take the mountain into strong hands, ruling it as he would have. The braids he had made the morning earlier were still freshly in your hair, somehow seemingly untouched. And you left it like that, happy to care the smallest bit of him around with you.