#but Ash was already on shaky legs

[gods-of-kanto]

(Uh oh! Your tank has fainted! Would you like to flee the battle?)

[phyrestartr]

Their Burning Bodies Keep Us Warm (1/2) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3.4k #NSFW, top!Sukuna, bottom!Reader, ABO dynamics, cannibalism, mentions of sex trafficking, mentions of cults, questionable relationship, suggested Stockholm syndrome, post-apocalypse, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, drama, gore, typical zombie shite, not rlly edited kekw SORRY

tags: @flowersatwork @tr4nniez @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @better-imagination-9

You ran. Even when your lungs tore apart, your legs burned to ash, your mind split and ruptured, you ran. 

The destination was simple: anywhere. Anywhere away from the hell hole you'd been swept up into–a camp full of soldiers getting hopeful little bugs stuck in a honeypot with promises of safety and a life well-lived despite the end of the world. A colony. A chance to stop hoping to simply survive. 

But that wasn't what happened. You and so many others were victims of a breeding ring–a puppy mill, so to speak. One where those able to bear young were forced to. One where a hivemind fooled the naive into thinking this was all for the ultimate goal of repopulation, for a chance to reclaim the world should the infected finally fall.

Yet humans, as smart and powerful as the hive claimed, had already lost once, and now twice as they lit their humanity ablaze for the greater evil of satisfying twisted desires under the guise of necessity. You couldn't take it anymore. 

So, you ran. 

Then, you saw a light. Just faintly. It whispered promises of warmth in the cold deadness of Winter's night; you couldn't help but be drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

But that meant someone was inside, too, which could be a blessing or a curse–if they found you, sidling up to the house, listening for signs of life or unlife, they could turn you in to the men chasing you; on the other hand, you might find a friend. A companion. A safe person to sleep by at night. To eat with. To talk to. That'd be nice. 

Your daydreams shattered when the voices of those soldiers echoed in the empty streets of the town you'd found yourself in. You peeked from your perch by the front door of the house, and ducked out of view when you saw two bobbing lights flicking and scanning over the snow. 

Shit, shit, shit. You swallowed thickly, trying to thick through the frost biting you and the snow melting on your bare arms. What were the odds they'd be able to follow your scent? All the way down to the spot where you hid beneath the front steps? It was hard to track another when it was raining, so snow had to be the same, right? So why were they coming closer and closer, why were their voices becoming hushed and their words rushed, why were they–

The door above you slammed open with the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. You covered your mouth with a shaky hand, hoping the boom coupled with your stalker's shocked, angry barking (just one voice?) stifled whatever pathetic squawk you garbled out. 

It must've. Because the person--the man--standing on the weather-worn deck above you laughed, and stepped down the creaky stairs with heavy, lazy steps before following that soldier's voice. 

Go, go, go. You forced yourself to move, pushing yourself up the steps under the cover of barked threats and the outbreak of a fight. You thought men like that stuck together. That they'd help each other out with delivering omegas back to one another. That they'd invite him to join their diabolic cult–especially when the thick scent of alpha filled your lungs.

You swallowed thickly, your inner omega going wild with curiosity and wonder and a need to curl up in the musk and laze in it all day, but your petrified self picked up the slack and kept you in motion, kept you scrambling for a place to hide. Staying the night was the plan–you wouldn't be able to survive outside, not like this. Not with a t-shirt, worn joggers and runners being your only defense against the cold. 

What happens in the morning? He'd no doubt catch your scent. He'd no doubt realize he had an unwelcome guest. What would he do with you? What would he do to you? 

“I don't care,” You breathed as you jammed yourself into the darkness of a bedroom closet and burrowed into whatever lay on the floor. “I don't care.”

And that was true; being a slave to one was better than being a slave to many. 

–

His eyes shone red.

You weren't sure if you woke in the night to find the demon. You didn't know if your dreamscape simply enjoyed tormenting you. But the burns left by that searing, glowing gaze were real. 

He stood there. Features melded with shadow. Body engulfing the snowy light of night. Staring down at you. Quiet. Still. Inhuman. 

Only your shaky breathing filled the thick, damp void of silence his presence brought. What were you supposed to do? What were you supposed to–

He closed the closet doors, and his lumbering footsteps sauntered away.

–

When morning came, the stranger was not so willing to leave you alone. 

You thought you were being quite crafty, quite sneaky with how you planned on escaping; you waited for sounds of his to stop in a far-off room, then you donned yourself in whatever gear and warm clothes you could find in the closet, and then you carefully, so so so carefully, opened the closet doors and–

“Leaving already, little omega?” A deep, playful voice taunted from the doorway of the room, just out of sight; if you pushed the doors all the way open, you'd see the man standing in the doorway to the left. 

But your hands fumbled alongside your heart. Your voice died in your throat. 

You were caught.

A large hand gripped the side of the closet door and pulled it open. You stumbled backwards, heart shattering from its frosted paralysis to jump into overdrive. 

Because the man, the alpha standing before you, was unlike anything you'd seen before. 

He was tall. His shoulders stretched wide and, judging from the strain of his shirt, his build was formidable and downright predatory. Muscle shifted and adjusted under an expanse of gilded skin everytime the beast moved, changing from looming over you to leaning against the doorframe. Maybe in an attempt to make himself smaller. More likely because of his cocky laziness. 

The smirk plastered on his face bore the same arrogance, too. As did the care in brushing back his hair and actually looking presentable in the guts of a fucking apocalypse. But maybe he relished in the anarchy. You could only assume so much from tattoos marking his skin and the mirth gleaming in hellborne eyes. 

“Go on,” the man drawled, hooking a thumb into his belt, bringing your attention to the thick knife strapped to his side, “Let's hear your pretty voice.” 

“I wasn't gonna stay,” you choked out, and the demon in front of you smiled wider. “I just–I saw your light, and–” 

“And you walked on in without even knocking.” He sighed and shook his head. “Kids these days.” 

“M'not a fucking kid,” You bit out, surprising the both of you with your venom. You thought you'd lost it long ago, but maybe not. 

The man laughed, showing off his brutal, jagged canines. You swore you saw red staining them. 

“You've got some bite, huh? Like that in a bitch.” He stepped closer, and you tried to meld into the wall of clothes behind you, but failed to escape the calloused hand that grabbed you by the jaw and forced your head up, down and around as he inspected you like a piece of meat.

You tried to pull away, tried to turn your head to break free from his grasp. “Don't fucking touch me–”

“Hah. This how you tried to get those alphas off of you?” He taunted, grinning at your sudden wide-eyed stare. “No wonder they used you up like a–” 

You headbutted him and kneed him in the dick before pushing past him and running. Your head pounded thanks to your stupid opener, but at least it worked. Now, you just had to get out of the damn house and–

“OMEGA.” 

–and escape from the devil chasing you. 

His growling voice ripped through your skull like a chainsaw revving to life as you threw yourself down the stairs and out the front door. You slipped and slid, nearly falling and breaking your fucking neck on the porch, but you caught yourself and made a break for the street as the thundering of footsteps clamoured after you. 

Churned snow painted in sour shades of rusted red greeted you. You could almost envision the struggle, the stabbing, the warmth bleeding from their bodies as they died for their selfish desires. It chilled you, gave you pause–and that's where you fucked up. 

The horizon reeled and spun when a heavy body crashed into you and pinned you to the ground. You gasped, straining to catch the breath that'd been punched from your lungs, failing to stop the burning in your chest as your face froze against the pavement. 

“Wily little cunt, huh?” The stranger breathed, rage and amusement fighting through his words. “You bring that much fight to the sack, omega? Hey?” 

You tried to rip free or push him off or something as he taunted you, but you couldn't. You were trapped. Again. Again.

“Fuck you,” you spat. “I'd rather fucking die than–”

You froze. The slow, stuttering shamble of footsteps pricked your ears before low, ungodly moaning and wheezing rattled through the streets. The noise was quiet, but so loud to a frightened deer. 

“Lookit that,” your captor whispered, leaning down to your ear, “Guess God heard your prayer.”

Your heart hammered. “Get off, get off.” Your voice quaked and broke as you thrashed beneath him. “Please.” 

“Thought you said you'd rather die.” His knee ground into your back and you bit back a yelp. 

“Please.” The diabolic gasping came closer, became more frantic as the thing saw you. You couldn't see it, but they always got so fucking excited and loud when they saw fresh, living meat. You knew it was coming. 

“Ah-ah, can't let you go. Your buddy won't be able to catch up and end things for ya.” The stranger cackled something hideous and unnerving. “That'd be a right fucking shame.” 

“Let me up,” You begged.

“Not yet.”

It got closer.

“Please!” 

“No.” 

Just a metre away, now.

“I'll stay.” 

The scent of alphan approval washed over you.

“Good pet.”

You were pulled up and off the snowy ground with ease as soon as you submitted. You even vaguely saw the man kick the undead back with ease, sending it toppling over into the snow and stuck on its back like a helpless turtle. Its motor functions were shot in this weather. It probably wouldn't be getting up for a while. 

You wondered if you were going to suffer the same fate: stuck on your back, unable to move, at the mercy of a sick freak you accidentally met while running away from other lunatics. You were doomed. But at least you were alive. At least you'd be warm.

The pink-haired menace locked up the door before throwing you down onto the couch with little grace. You would have been more mad if the purring roil of the fireplace didn't breathe warm gusts of comfort over you. And, well, you weren't being dragged into a bedroom and tied down. Not yet, at least. 

The make matters worse, the man didn't really say much. Just closed the blinds and ensured the entrances and windows were secured while you sat still and quiet, patient lest you suffer a worse fate. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder before returning to the task at hand. “If I wanted to kill your sorry ass, I woulda done it last night,” he said into the quiet of the room. 

You remembered those eyes staring down at you. How inhuman and evil they were. How much fear they bred in you. And now, you had to accept how real that was. 

He sat down on the coffee table in front of you and leaned towards you, resting his elbows on his knees, holding your gaze with his own. 

“Here's what's gonna happen,” he said, low and dangerous. “I'm gonna let you stay. Real nice of me, yeah? I'll give you food, water. Keep you warm, keep you safe from all the bullshit going on outside. Sounds good, doesn't it?” 

You looked over his face, brows furrowed, heart pounding so loud you almost couldn't hear him. But you nodded for fear of what he'd do otherwise. 

He smiled, satisfied. “Good. And in return,” he started, letting a hand slip up to your knee, “You'll make like a good little whore and keep my bed warm. Fair deal, don't you think?” 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you had a choice, anyway.

–

Sex with the man–Sukuna, as you’d come to learn–wasn’t the worst thing imaginable; for one, he had some level of patience and tact when it came to stretching and lubing you up for your occasional “duties,” which put him in your “good book” right away (Christ, your standards had fallen so low). 

Secondly, he didn’t make you participate. He’d command you in the same way each time (“face down, ass up, don't bite”), and he'd have his way with you. He never made you kiss him. Never demanded you speak. Never bullied you. He seemed like he just wanted to stuff his cock somewhere warm and forget about the world for a bit.

And you didn't really mind it. Sometimes. you almost looked forward to it. Sometimes, you let little noises escape when he railed you into the bed with reckless abandon. Sometimes, you wanted his hands on you just a little longer. 

Because when he wasn't fucking you, he might disappear out of the blue and leave you all alone, only to return a week later with supplies and clothes, unperishable goods and other random odds and ends he found along the way. Once, he even found a retro game store and scooped up an endless supply of gameboy advance and colour games and consoles. Another time, he carried home a bag full of weather-worn books. 

What'll it be today? You wondered when you caught sight of the man wandering back up the steps. He cursed under his breath as he messed with the lock for an eternity, and you took the opportunity to scurry away from the living room to put some distance between the two of you just in case; at this point, you didn't expect him to hurt you, but wild animals were unpredictable, even when seemingly domesticated.

“Fuckin' shit-ass door,” Sukuna grumbled as he nudged it open before kicking it closed and locking up. “Need to fix that shit.” 

You peered down at him from your perch halfway up the stairs and watched him saunter around, heavy boots clunking on the floors you just washed as he looked around. You had to wonder who the hell had taught him shoes inside was okay. 

“Where the fuck is that little bitch,” he mumbled, walking out of your line of sight. He traipsed through the bottom floor thoroughly before walking past the stairs again, pausing, rewinding, and meeting your patient statre. “The fuck are you doing?”

I don't want you to bite me; I don't know if you'll randomly kill me if you're in a bad mood; I don't trust you like that, all ran through your head, but none felt like a good option to admit to. So, you shrugged.

Sukuna sighed, loud and laced with an aggravated growl. “Downstairs. Now. Need you to do something.” 

Your brows furrowed slightly. Normally, you weren't asked to do much. The sudden command had your skin itching. 

“Now.” 

“Coming.” You tried to control the quivering of your legs on your descent to him, and just prayed he didn't notice. 

He stared down at you with narrowed eyes and a bit of a sneer before he leaned over, sniffing for your scent, circling around you a few times, and finally rubbing his wrist against your neck to half-heartedly re-mark you. 

You cleared your throat. “Is that it?” 

Sukuna scoffed and turned away, grabbing the medical bag from the kitchen cabinet and dumping it on the counter. “You know how to sew, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah. I can sew.” You approached warily as he gestured you closer. 

“Hah. Good to know you're not completely fucking useless.” He sat down heavily onto a bar stool and shrugged off his jacket and shirt before turning his back to you; a long, jagged gash marred his skin with trails of dark, gooey ichor and scarlett smears. Whatever had happened was serious.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, scrambling to look through the medical bag to find something, anything, that seemed like it'd help. You found some essentials: gauze, tape, bandages, antibiotic cream, disinfectant wipes. But you'd definitely need more than a few dinky wipes to deal with his back.

You felt his eyes on you as you puttered around the kitchen, grabbing this and that and some other things before returning to his side with salt, bottled water, and booze in-hand. 

Sukuna quirked a brow. “The fuck is all that for?” 

You jumped a bit when his voice interrupted your whirling thoughts. “I–gonna, um, try to make some kinda…saline. To clean it.” You cleared your throat again and set the mostly-empty bottle of sake by him. “That's for…y'know.”

“Loud and clear,” Sukuna sighed, dreading what was to come, and took a long, long drink from the bottle.

You pursed your lips and nodded to yourself before starting to mix the salt and water together in the bottle. You weren't sure what the ratio should be, but you figured there wasn't necessarily a limit, not when you were lacking isopropyl alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. You'd be sure to mention it to him next time he went out. 

“So. This'll…suck,” you warned, voice nervous and weak. 

Sukuna sighed again. Took a swig again. Then ripped his belt from his waist, folded it a few times, and bit down. 

He gave you an unenthused thumbs-up, and you found the nerve to jab a hole in the plastic bottle cap before spraying your makeshift saline solution against the wound. 

You nearly shit yourself as Sukuna growled with the force of a jet turbine. Faintly, you heard the creaking groan of leather crackle from his mouth as his teeth sank in deep. His canines probably already pierced through the material. 

“I know,” you whispered, actually feeling badly for the animal keeping you prisoner. “I know.”

You took your time cleaning the wound out, being sure to remove any sort of gravel or shrapnel embedded into his flesh. Luckily, the gash looked worse than it actually ended up being. It bled a lot, but it didn't cut all the way through to his ribs or beyond. Talk about lucky. 

When a majority of his trembling and snarling ebbed, you hazarded the question: “So…how’d this happen?” 

Sukuna groaned, and you almost smiled. “Fell off a fucking roof. Hit a sign on the way down.” 

You cringed at the thought. “Well. It's…not that bad.” You drenched the wound with another round of salt water before patting it dry.

“Yeah? Then no stitches,” he half-declared, half-asked. 

You gave his back a pitying look before reaching for the needle. Sukuna scoffed and muttered colourful obscenities when he saw your fingers snatch up the tool before disappearing behind him again. 

“Fuck me.”

“Sorry,” you offered softly, trying not to laugh. 

You saw his knee bounce in trepidation as you wiped his skin and the needle down with those cute little towelettes. You kinda felt bad for him. Healthcare in the apocalypse was a bit lacklustre.

As carefully as you could, you pushed the needle through his skin, and tried not to gag at the obscene feeling. The sound of his fist hitting the countertop helped ground you, though, and helped keep you on task stitch, after stitch, after stitch, after–

You set aside the tools and cleaned off your trembling, crimson-stained hands as best as you could before applying whatever ointment you could under gauze, and finally bandaging his torso up. Sukuna's eyes followed you, but you couldn't bear to look at him, quietly afraid of what he might do if your unsteady gaze met his; but that wasn't acceptable, judging by how he grabbed your arm and stopped you from turning away to clean up the mess. 

You looked at him, then, eyes laser-focused. Every shift pumped your veins with ice. Every flick of his attention sent electricity down your spine. Every silent word his lips failed to commit to filled you with dread. 

“Thanks,” he said. And he let go. 

[fuctacles]

Witch Hunt

for @steddie-spooktober "witch" & @stevieweek "i don't know about this one..." prompt which i've altered quite a bit but used it twice so it kind of evens out, right???

E | 2568 | transfem!Steve (goes by Eve), witch!Steve, demon!Eddie, medieval fantasy, some arson and murder boyfriend vibes, magical srs, possible continuation, im sorry for all the lore | Ao3 more spooktober: "would you please stop trying to scare them?"

Eddie hated his job. Not only the human realm was much colder than Hell, but also, the Deal didn't always work. The success rate has been increasing each time, but it still pissed him off when nothing happened after he's been freezing his balls off for hours. He was starting to think all his fur was just decorative. 

When he had arrived at Heimdall's, the guy threw him a skimpy tunic that barely covered his privates. 

"Is this the only one you have? You can see my whole dick and balls in it," Eddie had complained, but beggars can't be choosers and all that. 

He wraps the fabric tighter around himself when the next gust of air moves clouds away from the moon, making the pile of debris in the clearing visible. Time passes and Eddie waits impatiently, tapping his hooves against the ground, and idly picking stray grass blades from his tail. It seems like the pile moves a couple of times, but it's just the wind disturbing it. 

A distant clock tower strikes midnight, and finally, the ash pile moves and keeps on moving, until a hand emerges. Eddie straightens up, his tail twitching in interest. 

The ashes start breathing, the charred remains get knocked down and a coughing fit raises a dark cloud into the air. She'll be spitting soot for hours, but at least she's up now, another success for the statistics. 

He decides to take pity on the poor girl and steps away from the fence he's been perched on, making room for his wings. With two good swats, the dirt is gone, leaving a slightly dirty, very naked woman in the middle of a charred circle. 

He raises his eyebrows. 

"These fucking perverts burnt you naked?"

She finally notices his presence, her red-rimmed eyes blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and stands up on shaky legs, still low on energy after her resurrection, barely maintaining her balance. Suddenly, Eddie doesn't seem to matter anymore, as her hands fly to her chest. 

"What...?" she murmurs to herself.

Eddie tilts his head, watching the human with curiosity. Usually, the arrival of a demon gets a bigger fanfare, he's almost insulted, but he waits patiently. He already did for so long, and now he has something pretty to lay his eyes on for once. Witches usually came with ugly meat sacks, even after their resurrection. 

"Where the fuck is my dick?!"

Ah, yes, that would explain it. The naked thing, too.

"Do you want it back?" Eddie asks because he's a demon with manners. 

"No!" she protests immediately, eyes snapping up to him from observing her crotch. "No," she adds softer. "I like it like that." Her hand reaches down to inspect her new parts, so Eddie takes it upon himself to swat it away with his tail.

"Hey!" 

He tsks, his long tongue slipping out to flick in a warning. 

"Let's not put any more dirt in your holes, okay?" he berates her. Regretfully, he shrugs off the tunic he's been wearing and throws it at the girl. "For your modesty, m'lady." 

She glowers at him but slips it over her head anyway. What was small for the demon, doesn't do much more for a human, especially not one with the curves that she has. She wrinkles her nose. 

"Is there even a point? You can see my whole—"

Eddie slaps her hand preemptively. 

"Hey! I wasn't even touching it!" 

"Your hand was too close."

"No, it wasn't!" 

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

"Let's clean you up and then you can touch it all you want. You have a river in this ditch?" he asks, nose twitching in the air. He turns at the same time the witch points her hand. 

"To the left of the village." 

Eddie's eyes stray to the cluster of houses she seems determined not to look at.

"Do you have anyone left there?" he asks curiously.

"Not anymore," she scoffs, taking off towards the river. 

Eddie has to follow her, he can't risk losing a witch, but an urge flares inside of him that he has to let loose. He claps his hands together and starts rubbing, sparks flying until a fire forms in his palm. He bounces it from one hand to another and nuzzles it with his finger, always happy to work with the little guys. When he feels the witch is watching him, he refocuses and whispers to it:

"Go, little one. Do your worst."

The flame flies off his palm, aided by a push from Eddie's phantom wings. 

She doesn't ask, only eyes him curiously, but he pushes gently on her back to prompt her into walking along his side. 

"It's gonna take a while," he says without any other explanation. 

The walk isn't long, and soon she's handing over the tunic and dipping into the lazily flowing water, dark like ink but glittering with the reflection of stars above. The night sky is probably the only thing Eddie misses in the Underworld. 

He sits on the plush grass, observing as the witch dunks under the surface and rubs her skin until it turns pink. It still contrasts with the water like it's made of the finest porcelain. 

"I guess you're clean enough to explore now," he says as her movements slow down like she's already contemplating it. She must be, he can taste her curiosity from his spot on the river bank.

"You're gonna sit there and watch?" she glowers at him.

"Of course," he answers matter-of-factly. "I'm a demon."

She huffs, but this time it sounds more amused. Her hand travels down her body.

"What's your name, witch?" Eddie asks, resting his chin on his hand. 

"Stev—" she hesitates. 

"Eve?" he picks up curiously. That would be hilarious. 

She kind of nods, kind of shakes her head. 

"I was Steven, then I went by Stevonne, but..."

"That's okay, take your time," Eddie reassures her. "This is your Rebirth, you can pick any name you like."

She hums, and he can see her hand making slow, circling movements under the water. 

"I like Eve," she admits.

"Yeah?" Eddie perks up with a smile. "You can call me Eddie. It's nice to make your acquaintance, Eve."

She smiles and opens her mouth to say something, but her attention is pulled somewhere above Eddie's shoulder. The water starts glowing orange. 

"Looks like the little guy is having fun," he hums, not looking around. The glow of fire looks better on Eve's skin anyway. 

The river carries distant cries for help, a reminder that it's not just a big, pretty bonfire. 

"Don't worry, he'll get them all," he says.

"I'm not worried," she assures quickly. 

Eve's fixated on the fire consuming her village, her eyes full of awe and the reflection of flames. She's glowing in the now orange water and she looks gorgeous reflecting Eddie's carnage like that. She'll look breathtaking among hellfire. 

"Maybe we could spare some," he wonders out loud with a lazy smile. She looks back at him. "So we can hunt them down later. The way they hunt my new favorite witch."

She smiles, mean and thrilled. He'll have to fight fang and claw to keep her.

"Maybe we could." 

They look at each other for a long while, until his eyes dip. 

"You done?" Eddie looks pointedly at her stilled hand. She sighs with frustration. 

"It's way different from this angle," she complains. 

Eddie laughs out loud, the sound echoed by the collapsing church that used to tower over the townsfolk. 

"Need a hand?" he offers, rolling his eyes when she eyes his claws with distrust. He flicks out his tongue instead. "Need a tongue?" 

Eve's totally on board for that, clambering out of the water, her hazelnut hair dripping over her curves. The wet shine on her skin reflects the dancing flames and Eddie would be in love if he knew how to.

"Weren't you appalled that I was watching you just seconds ago?" he laughs at her, a little bit mean, but he already knows she can take it. 

"Turns out I like that," she shrugs without shame, making Eddie's smile grow. The sight of his sharp teeth doesn't deter her either. In an instant, he has a lap full of a human, or at least as much of one there was left in Eve. He has her tits right in his face and he wouldn't be a demon if he didn't give them a taste, licking the river water off her skin. She sighs, fingers tangling in his unruly mane of hair, seeking purchase in his horns. He groans when she grabs them, and wraps his arms around her, pressing into her skin so he can flip them around, and lay her down in the bed of grass. 

Her yelp turns into a delighted laugh and Eddie trembles with the sound. They don't make witches like that anymore. Free and open to the joys of life, ready to frolic and mingle with the things Unknown. Christianity made it so hard for demons and fae to get laid. 

He presses hot kisses down her torso, spends extra time sucking around her navel, then nibbling around her mound, hiking her thighs higher and higher, nosing at the crease there, inhaling her scent, until he gets to his destination. It takes two, three expert licks for Eve to lock her legs around him and scream into the night. 

Eddie gently laps up around her hole, her juices too precious to let fall on the grass below. Her breath hitches and she trembles but doesn't move away. 

"Do you want more?" he asks, black eyes searching for an answer. 

Her eyes are still full of fire.

"Yes."

So he gives her one more, then three, until he loses count and his tongue is numb and Eve's but a puddle of human-shaped limbs underneath him. When he laps at her entrance, drunk himself on her smell and taste, she spreads her legs invitingly, eyes blown and impossibly wide, sparkling with flames. 

They stare into each other's dark eyes as he slithers his tongue inside. He rubs against her walls, searching for her face for a reaction, but she's too out of it for anything more than an involuntary twitch of muscles. However, when he moves away, she seems disappointed. He crawls up her body to properly look at her face, but before he can say anything, she lurches forward.

Kissing is not something he's used to in such circumstances, but he indulges anyway, letting her tongue inspect the sharp points of his teeth, and maneuver his hand on her breast. He squeezes, laps, and sucks, letting himself get lost in this new dance. 

"You know," he says when she breaks away to restore oxygen. "I don't do that outside of sealing a deal," he admits.

Eve blinks at him owlishly. 

"You don't kiss just for fun? Aren't you a demon?"

Eddie barks out a laugh. 

"I guess kissing is too tame for our tastes." 

"What's your taste?" she asks, curiosity radiating off of her in hot waves. 

He hums, caressing her side.

"Insane witches, apparently."

"What do you do with them?" she presses on, her leg moving dangerously high up his body, the coarse hair of his thighs not enough to deter her.

"Well, personally..." Eddie likes to play with his food, a habit he couldn't shake since his childhood, so he rolls away from Eve to lie on his side instead. To placate her, he starts playing with the hair that grow low on her belly. "I collect the resurrected witches and show them around. You'll get a tour of Hell and any other realms you wish to see, and then I'll help you settle wherever you feel like."

With every word, the pout on her face only grows. 

"You're not keeping me?" she asks, playing up the whine in her voice, but he knows there are genuine feelings behind it. 

"Witches aren't meant to be tied down," he explains apologetically. "They're free spirits abusing the laws of reality." He reaches for her hand to press a kiss against her fingers. "It's a power best wielded in solitude."

She pries her hand away and sits up.

"Why would I want the power if I can't share it? Don't witches have like... familiars? Or something?"

Eddie frowns.

"A witch of your power doesn't need one. They're meant to amplify and aid spells, and you're pretty much on the same level as a common demon."

"Are you a common demon?"

"Yes," he nods. 

"So we can't make a deal?" she presses on. 

His frown deepens. 

"Why would you want a deal with someone equal in power? Deals are made between a master and a servant."

"But is it not possible? Can't I have an equal by my side? A partner in crime?"

Maybe he should backtrack on her being his favorite. She's asking too many questions, ones he's not used to from a freshly reborn witch. He sighs. 

"Technically you can, but it's an exclusive deal. You're tied for eternity, you belong to each other. It's not a common practice," he says, playing off what he's been told and overheard. "Master-servant contracts have an expiration date and are easier to break. I'm not sure a deal like that could even be broken."

Eve wraps her hands around her knees, processing the information. 

"So I could tie a demon, or an equally powerful being, to myself for all eternity?" 

Somehow, Eddie doesn't like the idea of Eve making a deal like that with a random demon. He nods, though.

"Yes."

"Let's say I'd want to do that with you, right now. How would that look?" she asks curiously. 

He thinks about it, imagines it, and it pains him deep into his core. 

"A simple deal is sealed with a kiss or a blood pact. A deal between equals requires an intercourse."

"Huh."

The idea doesn't seem appalling to her, which doesn't surprise him at this point. He can feel her eyes sliding down his body.

"You're not going to find my dick like that," he says with amusement. 

She huffs but doesn't budge, searching his gaze instead. 

"Wouldn't you want to make me yours? And you mine?"

Eddie considers it. 

"I never thought about it before," he admits. "Is that something you'd want?"

She lays back on the grass with a sigh. 

"I'm just tired of being alone. Of nobody staying. You're the nicest person I've met in years, and you're not even human." He laughs at that, and she turns towards him with a smile. "You burnt a village for me." She frowns. "Unless you do that for all the witches."

Eddie quickly shakes his head. Too quickly.

"Only the most mistreated ones," he admits. 

"Is it a pity thing, then?"

"No," he protests again. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

Eve smiles. 

"Thank you."

He smiles back, and when he leans down, she meets him for a lazy kiss. 

"Would you make me yours?" she asks when they part and the offer sounds alarmingly tempting. 

"You should meet other demons before making a commitment like that," he says, and she rolls her eyes. Then, his ears twitch as he finds the perfect distraction for them both. 

"You ready to hunt?" he smiles down at her, wide and dangerous. "Someone escaped the fire."

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 3: Frame

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : grieving, otherwise, none!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3k+

A/N : Well, well, well, chapter 3 is out! Enjoy your reading 😁

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

You watched as the flame devoured the kindling and gnawed at the petals you'd carefully placed in their usual circle. It progressed slowly, longing to consume every piece of wood and petal it found in its path. Knees braced against your chest, one arm wrapped around your legs in a vain attempt to maintain the cracks you felt growing deep inside your ribcage.

Why was it getting so complicated?

A tear fell onto the frame you held, fingers shaking, above your knees. You quickly wiped it away, not wanting the moisture to stain the glass that protected the picture from the long years gone by.

Why was it so complicated? You repeated to yourself once more, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your top. You noted that you still hadn't changed for the night. You had to take a deep breath, it always helped… supposedly, it always helped, but the shaky breathing that was supposed to be helpful only allowed more tears to fall down your cheeks.

But why? Why couldn't you calm down? Why did your eyes seem to drown despite your best efforts? Why, over the past three days, had it become so difficult to even breathe normally? Why was it so difficult to keep your heart beating regularly, so regularly that you sometimes forgot you even had one?

Usually, it was easy. One or two slow, deep breaths. Your hand removing the tear drop from your skin, preventing others from joining it. Sometimes you'd close your eyes to focus on this task, and when you'd open them again, indifference would quietly resonate deep inside you.

So why tonight, for the third time, did you feel this organ so vital to your body crumbling, shattering, giving up on you a little more with each beat? Your eyes blurred, making it difficult to see the photo in the frame. No matter how much you blinked to clear your vision, it remained stubbornly blurred. But you wanted to see it… no, you had to see it, but the more you forced yourself to wipe away those tears, the more they rushed in to tangle and alter your vision. You clenched your fist around the frame as the other desperately tried to restore your sight. You had to look at him. Every night, you had to remember. You had to remember him, the features of his face, the color of his fur, the way he carried himself. You couldn't not look at him.

Unwittingly, your knuckles turned white and the pressure on the already worn wood increased. If you didn't look at him, you'd forget. You'd forget, just as you'd forgotten the words to that song you'd hummed every night as the petals turned to ash. You would forget, just as you had forgotten the faces of your parents, and of those whose existence you could only remember by their first names. You weren't allowed to forget, just as you weren't allowed to forget how to speak. So you had to look at him, you had no right to forget him.

Maybe if they had never come to your clearing, maybe you wouldn't be in this state, only three days after their arrival, three days since you seemed to be having great difficulty keeping a steady gaze. How stupid to bring them fish for three days so they could eat, so they could feel welcomed as you would have welcomed two friends back in a very distant past. How stupid of you to remember that a human, to remain human, had to give a proper welcome to his guests, whether they showed up unexpectedly or not. How stupid not to be able to keep things in perspective. How stupid. And you rubbed your eyes again and again until you felt like ripping the skin off your face, when suddenly…

A crack.

Your breathing stopped in a flash. All your muscles froze. You were no longer shaking, your heartbeat had almost stopped its frantic race and your eyes were now wide open, your tears frozen in the fear of having to look down.

The broken pieces of wood threatened to fall to the floor, and the only thing holding them together was your hand crushing the frame against your skin. The bark of the crumbling wood stuck to your hand like hundreds of grains of sand, and it was only as you loosened your fingers around the frame that your hand began to shiver again.

No.

No no no. This couldn't be happening.

The tears had become dry, allowing you to see the foolishness you'd just done. The wood of the frame had broken under the pressure, no longer able to hold the protective glass in place. The picture would end up in the open air, exposed to external aggression, exposed to moisture, exposed to time that just kept flying by without waiting for you to be ready to watch it roll by.

The picture would be damaged, the colors would fade, the events it had frozen in time would disappear along with the last image of the ape you called, with a sinking heart, your friend. And for as long as you could, you would cling to a mental image of him that would inevitably end in oblivion. You were going to forget. Of course you were going to forget. Maybe not in 1 year, 5 years or even 10. It might take you a lifetime as an uninfected human to forget, but it was going to happen. It was the only fatality of your condition, your body didn't age, but on the other hand you couldn't keep your memory intact, you had to give up part of your memories in exchange for a long life. One that was too long.

For the first time, as you firmly held the broken pieces of wood in the vain hope they would glue back together, you realized how tired you were.

In your turmoil, you'd shifted to a more cross-legged position, with the shaky frame gently placed in front of you. You had taken care to arrange the pieces of shattered wood so that they formed the frame around the glass, now detached from the frame.

With your gaze locked on Caesar, your quivering fingers rested on the glass in a gentle stroke.

“P... please forgive me, Caesar,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, almost desperate for forgiveness that would never be able to come.

You breathed in as best you could when all of a sudden, the cool wind touched your skin. The wood of the old floor creaked and you abruptly wiped away the last of the tears that had found their ways onto your cheeks.

Clearing your throat.

Rubbing your eyes. Your cheeks. Your whole face.

Brand-new you.

You looked back to where the sound had come from and your stony eyes fell on the two apes. You remembered very well having told them that it was going to rain during the night and that if, only if, they had no other choice, you would allow them, to a certain extent and with a few precautions, to enter.

How silly.

The apes weren't usually the type to fear the rain, but when you offered, almost against your will, to spend the night in your home until the rain stopped, they seized the opportunity to talk to you. To talk to you and convince you to let them keep your horse.

You could see them walking cautiously inside your house. Their eyes were everywhere, curious and careful, as if they didn't want to glance at an object, a piece of furniture, a corner of the large room that would be off-limits to them.

Noa immediately noticed your nest, which was a bit unusual; he couldn't quite work out what it was made of, certainly not branches or down, and the blanket covering it wasn't the fur of any animal you'd caught either. But he knew from the intensity of your scent on the fabric that this was where you slept. He looked away quickly. This was your nest, and if you had allowed them in, checking out your nest and judging it would be seen as disrespectful by his people. He at least wish it was comfortable for you.

It didn't take long for his eyes to find yours. You were sitting cross-legged, and it was hard to know whether you'd changed your mind about allowing them into your home. With your blank stare, you showed them nothing, happy? Surprised? Angry? Annoyed? None of these things were apparent, and it was beginning to drive him mad. He wanted to shake you, to bare his fangs and at least provoke a reaction, even one of fear, which he would accept, because this impassive face was making him ask questions he wished he'd never had to ask.

Emotions and facial expressions were the key to communication for apes. So how could echoes communicate if they all had the same blank face? How could they respond appropriately to each other's words and behavior? How do you build trust? Bonding? Did all the echoes really have that lifeless face? How could he know that his behavior wasn't offensive to you? How could he know that he was doing the right thing for you to simply agree to communicate with him?

And it had only taken him three days to get used to this inexpressive face. He was so used to getting no emotional response from you that he didn't immediately notice that behind the cloudy veil of your eyes, something had changed.

Noa had to look twice, and even then, he still wasn't quite sure what he'd just seen appear in a corner, somewhere well hidden, deep in your eyes. Noa had always been good at reading other apes' thoughts and feelings. You'd given him a hard time not showing anything, but he finally saw it. A little sparkle, as delicate and transparent as it was, as shy and barely recognizable, he had finally found what could look like sadn… And you lowered your eyes, ending this exchange in which he'd never thought he could lose himself in such an involved way. Had you figured out that he'd seen it?

Had he noticed? A pang of anxiety deepened in your stomach. You couldn't stand his stare any longer. Nor were you in any shape to have your soul probed by a chimpanzee you'd met three days ago and didn't even know the name of. Yet you knew it was important to them. Caesar had taught you well, explained it well: apes are observant, they communicate mainly through their eyes, and not allowing them to look at you could mean that you didn't trust them, or rather, that you didn't want to trust them. And not wanting to trust an ape could just as easily mean that they couldn't trust you either.

Was it why you'd allowed him to dip his green eyes into yours? To tell him silently that he could trust you? Or rather… that you trusted him?

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally stood up, heading for your chest. If they were staying the night, you could at least lend them a blanket. You rummaged in your chest, and under the 3-4 items of clothing, you grabbed two old blankets that you used in turn with the one on your armchair to sleep on.

You approached them silently before handing them the blankets.

“For… the night.”

You felt compelled to clarify what you meant in front of their inquiring eyes, and just as you were about to return to where they'd found you on arrival, Raka's husky voice caught your attention.

“Do you have a name?”

It was true that after three days, you hadn't taken the time to make any introductions. It wasn't very humanly polite, you thought to yourself, nonetheless pondering on answering him. Of course you had a name, but it had been so long since you'd been asked that it took you a split second to remember it… (Name). But was it really necessary to give it to them? As you were slow to answer, the orangutan went on:

“If you don't have one, we could call you… Nova?”

Nova. You knew that name. Somewhere deep in your memory, you could recall a girl. A little girl whose name was Nova. But that couldn’t be, it was way too long ago. Therefore you chose not to dwell on it. The chimp beside Raka gave him a quizzical stare as well and you managed to decipher the sign language Raka was giving him as a respond, being "will explain further later".

"I’m (Name)." Was all you could say.

Though your eyes lingered on the chimp and Noa swears he saw you sign a "you?" but it could only be his mind playing tricks on him.

To tell the truth, he hadn't been imagining it. You couldn't consciously bring yourself to ask his name, so your subconscious did it for you. After a few seconds of silence, you thought maybe he hadn't noticed your request or maybe he didn't want to answer this silent question, which, on reflection, wasn't such a bad thing: it was easier to forget without knowing names.

But he had finally decided otherwise.

“Noa.”

You nodded silently. Noa and Raka. Two names you'd surely remember for a long time.

---------------

You'd taken your seat in front of the fireplace again, the only difference being that you'd taken the blanket that had been lying on your armchair with you. You had wrapped yourself up inside it to protect yourself from the fresh air of the night, and your fingers had mindlessly begun to skim the outline of the frame that was still on the floor. You were almost desperate. No matter how hard you thought about the best way to repair the frame and protect the precious treasure inside, your brain couldn't come up with a solution.

As focused as you were, you didn't even notice when Noa pointed to the wall above your head where your lists were lined up and arranged in columns.

“Do you know what these are?” Noa signed to Raka, who answered with a “no” nod. “Maybe… ask her?” Raka signed back.

But would you answer him? Until now, you'd never really exchanged more than two words apart from the first day when you'd caught them wanting to take your horse. Maybe you wouldn't accept his question, and maybe you might even take it the wrong way if he ventured to ask you a question that… concerned you too much? He'd kept in the back of his mind your reaction when Raka had wanted to help you pick up the rose petals.

“Not a good idea.” Noa signed again. “She gave fish, and the blankets.”

Raka shrugged as if that were enough to justify the fact Noa could ask you a question without batting an eyelid and you were kind enough, in spite of everything, to answer him.

“If you want her horse, you have to speak.” Raka prompted.

Noa huffed quietly, resigned. He had to talk to you.

You jumped when the wooden floor creaked beside you. Your eyes immediately went to Noa, who was taking a closer look at the lists on your wall. His voice buzzed in his ribcage and your gaze followed the movement of his hand, pressing down on one of your lists.

“What… is this?”

Silence.

Noa lowered his eyes to yours, feeling the need to perceive an answer from you, even though he already suspected he'd find nothing in your veiled gaze.

Perhaps if he looked harder, he'd be able to see again that melancholy glint he'd seen earlier, but you'd obviously managed to hide it even deeper. He wasn't going to get you twice in a row.

Unable to find what he was looking for, and frustrated by your silence, he was drawn to what your fingers were fiddling with on the floor.

Noa didn't understand the object at your feet. He had no idea what it was and out of curiosity, he crouched down, trying to get a little closer to the shape to understand its use. He could feel your puzzled gaze, almost on alert for the next move he might take, but he decided that as long as you didn't push him away, then he was allowed to continue his inspection. You had most certainly hovered your hand over the transparent plate on purpose to prevent him from seeing more precisely what it was, but whatever it might be, there was only one possible conclusion.

“Broken?” he asked.

Noa sought your gaze again, and the answer he found completely baffled him. He hadn't said much. One word. Just one word. And yet, the glimmer he had glimpsed with difficulty when he first entered your hut had just leapt into his face like the solution to a question that had been left unanswered for too long.

Sadness.

He could see it clearly, clearer than the water in the river. Echo's eyes were sad. This sudden emotion you were offering him as if on a platter of berries, this emotion he'd been searching for in you for three days, wondering if you were really capable of such a natural thing, this emotion, he suddenly didn't know what to do with it.

If the rose petals you'd picked up were important, this, this object you were shielding from his eyes with your hands, was certainly far more important. So important that it triggered an emotion in you capable of being expressed and given as a gift.

You closed your eyes. Maybe you'd given him too much. You closed your eyes and Noa noticed the long sigh that made your chest expand and contract.

And then, nothing.

Like the sun reaching the last horizon before fading behind it, there was nothing left in your eyes.

He watched you lay the blanket on the broken wood before getting up and leaving your house. Noa abruptly sought comfort from Raka, who gave him only one sentence in return.

“What have you done this time?”

-----------

Tags list: @callsignwidow / @youdontknowe / @katzykat / @koshi-sama / @violet-19999 / @queen-luna-007 / @sciencewithottsnpotts / @sparks0918

(I hope everyone is tagged properly!)

[ailawritesfics]

✎ 18+ minors dni, age gap, cheating, established relationship with natsuo, dabi is called touya, mirror sex, penetration, dubcon, blackmail, use of whore/doll, fingering, almost getting caught

✎ 1.4k words

Just Touya eyeing Natsuo's pretty little girlfriend.

Natsuo has brought you over to his place a handful of times already. The first few was to meet the family. The family in question being Rei, Fuyumi, and Shoto. At first you questioned why he only introduced you to his mother and two of his siblings. You were even more confused when he so vaguely explained why he didn't want to introduce you to his father and was even more adamant to refuse to have you meet his eldest brother, Touya.

Why? He couldn't give you a straight answer, half of the time you chalked it up to half baked excuses. But you trust your boyfriend so despite your curiosity, you didn't ask for the reason again and did your best to avoid Touya when you're visiting the Todoroki residence.

Touya is intimidating. He's nearly twice your age, taller, and has a gaze that's enough to make anyone weak at the knees. You aren't sure if it's his scars that piqued your interest or the smirk dawning his lips whenever you'd swiftly pass by him to reach Natsuo's room. He's an enigma. Always missing at family dinners, somehow always reeks of smoke and ash like burning firewood, and on the days you do see him, he seems to always be lurking.

You paid him no mind like Natsuo asked you to.

"Ignore him," Natsuo had told you a while back when you first ran into the eldest son of the Todoroki's by accident because neither you nor Natsuo knew he was home that day.

You did as you were told. As much as you can. You tried to ignore him on the rare times he had joined the family for dinner when Natsuo brought you over. Ignored the way his gaze lingered, moving up and down your body so shamelessly and pretending he hadn't just been undressing you with his eyes when Natsuo calls him out on it. You tried to ignore the way his hands would touch your waist when you scurried past him down the hall, or how he'd purposefully trip you only to catch you with one hand by the hip and his playful "sorry" or "careful, doll, how clumsy of you" that follows after as he watches you with hooded eyes as you disappear into Natsuo's room.

Touya is Natsuo's older brother.

Touya is your boyfriend's older brother.

He shouldn't be trapping you in his arms, your legs hooked over his to keep you spread open for him in front of the full length mirror and making you hold his phone up with shaky hands to record the whole thing. His hand slides up yours, guiding the angle of the camera to show how his fingers slipped in and out of your soaked cunt, whispers of praise and degrading names come from his tongue yet all you can do is sit there and take it.

The entire thing was unsightly, you're cheating on your boyfriend. With his brother, no less. In the back of your mind something was screaming at you to protest, to pull away, to stop yourself from committing any more unfaithful acts but how could you when the drag of his fingers along your walls felt so much better than when Natsuo did it. Touya knew your body more than your own boyfriend did.

“And what are you thinking of in that pretty little head of yours, doll?” His voice catches your attention, his hand stilling inside of you. His cerulean eyes bore into your own, stone cold and devoid of any affection as he sought for an answer. You knew he didn't like it when you let your mind wonder, your attention should only be on him.

A shudder runs down your spine at the feeling of his breath on your neck. It's warm. Hot. Too hot.

“ ‘m sorry,” you stutter an apology, hoping he'd let it slide tonight.

Touya doesn't seem satisfied at all with your answer, eyes still glaring at you through the reflection in the mirror. Then he hums in your ear, pressing his lips against your neck, “‘s that so? You're sorry?”

You nod, affirming you were apologetic. For a moment you think he'll forgive you as you feel his scarred hands move up your body, but in a swift moment he's holding your thigh up in one hand and the other gripping your cheeks. You can feel your own slick drip down your face but the harshness in his grip concerns you even more. He makes you look directly at your reflection in the mirror, refusing to let you turn your head to look away no matter how much you try.

You felt ashamed to even glance at your reflection. Touya held your thighs further apart, exposing you even more. Your heart pounded in your ears as you looked at yourself, you're everything you promised Natsuo you wouldn't be. And Touya loved it. Defiling his younger brother's precious little girlfriend, playing the long game to earn your trust and take advantage of your naivety, thinking he's just misunderstood by his family when in reality he's everything they warned you he would be.

“Look at you. What would Natsuo think if he saw you? His little girlfriend acting like a whore in front of his big brother.” Touya chided, his tone showing he finds the situation more amusing than it actually is.

You close your eyes, hoping the shame and guilt from your actions all goes away but Touya doesn't let you have that moment of wishful thinking. He's far too cruel to grant you anything more than a curt pat on the cheek before he's hoisting you up by your forearms and practically pushing you onto the bed, the mattress sinking under your weight. He hovers above you, propping himself on his forearm while he aligns himself at your entrance.

This isn't the first time this has happened and each time you find yourself in Touya’s room, the shame and guilt gets worse but the more he seeks you out, the more you enjoy the secret rendezvous. And it's not like you could say anything about these secret meetings anyway. Not when he has recordings of every encounter saved on his phone and probably backed up in a hard drive somewhere.

A soft moan slips past your lips when Touya pushes in, feeling his thick cock splitting you open. Only half way in, he shoves the rest of his cock in your cunt, making your fingers dig into the covers, a sharp gasp leaving your lips accompanied by his groans.

He pulls nearly all the way out then slams back in, setting a rough and brutal pace right from the start. You gasp his name in a manthra, feeling him drag deliciously along your walls and hitting that sweet spot inside you so precisely. It feels too good, even better than when Natsuo does it.

“Look at you. Already falling apart on my cock like you weren't just fucking Natsuo hours ago.” Touya groans, keeping up his pace. He grabs your leg and throws it over his shoulder, hitting even deeper. “He couldn't satisfy you enough that you had to come to my room begging to be dicked down properly.”

You shake your head no, trying to make sense of what he's saying over all the pleasure.

“No? Kind of hard to believe that when you're already letting me fuck you, doll.”

A knock on the door startles both of you, making Touya curse rather loudly. It swings open without warning, accompanied by a voice you're far too familiar with. Touya moves his body to cover your face, hiding you from Natsuo's sight. He covers your mouth with one hand, wordlessly telling you to stay quiet.

“Touya-nii, I need your help with something-” Natsuo's voice cuts off when he sees his brother's naked lower half, scrambling to cover his eyes and look away from the scene before him.

“ ‘m a little busy here.” Came Touya’s nonchalant reply.

The younger brother's face flushes red. He covers his eyes with one hand, and the other waving frantically as he tries to reach for the door, “Sorry, sorry–” and slams it shut in a rush.

Touya moves back to a comfortable position, straddling your hips as he sits on his heels, looking at you as you lay on the bed with a frown and furrowed brows.

“He didn't see you. Don't get so worked up about it.” He chuckled at your expression and gave a half-hearted apology you know he doesn't actually mean.

“Now, where were we?”

[sadhours]

Bully - Part 1 of 3

anonymous said: I'm imagining bully!billy who secretly has a crush on fem!reader but doesn't want it to be known cause she's a "nerd" and not very social.

I took this idea and ran with it. Loved this request so much I decided to turn it into a short series. hope you like it!!

tag list; @bbyhargrove

warnings: 18+ minors dni, bully!billy, innocent nerdy!reader, bullying, name calling, blood, virginity mentioned, also perv!billy I couldn’t help myself

Icy blue eyes watch your Ked’s kicking gravel, traveling up your leg warmers and stop at your thighs. He’s watching as your skirt lifts with your steps, hypnotized by the sight and how it’s making his chest and stomach tighten.

“You got the hots for that geek?” Tommy teases, nudging his shoulder.

Billy averts his eyes and flicks his lit cigarette at Tommy, who quickly inspects where the cherry made contact with his sweatshirt, brushing off the ash and glaring up at his friend.

“Think you’re projecting,” Billy chides, but it’s all a facade. He does have the hots for you, thinks about your legs when he can’t sleep at night.

Tommy snorts, “Yeah, totally. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a nerd like that.”

Billy likes the idea of corrupting an innocent, dorky girl like yourself but he won’t admit as much. His ‘friends’ wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. So when it seems like they’re catching on to his lingering eyes, he panics and starts overtly messing with you. It’s grade school bully stuff too.

His group follows his footsteps in the hall and when he sees you closing your locker with a mountain of textbooks and binders in your hands, he curves his path and knocks them out of your hand and to the floor. An all too easy, malicious smile curling his lips up as you make a small, offended noise. The gaggle of teens surrounding him erupt in vicious laughter. He’s not sure why but the way you look at him floors his attraction to you and Billy finds himself looking forward to any time he can terrorize you.

In class, he chews on his gum while he stares at the back of your head. He considers for a moment smooshing his gum between the wavy strands but then you might have to cut it and he doesn’t want that. He settles for pinching a pencil thin chunk of your hair and pulling. You head pulls back abruptly and you cry out in pain. All the heads in the class turn to the two of you, Billy looking pleased with himself and a scowl painted on your face as you also turn to look at him.

The teacher sighs, setting the text book down and tilting her head at you and Billy, “Why are you disrupting my class, y/n?”

“Billy pulled my hair!” you tattle, rubbing your fingers over the sore spot at your roots.

“No, I didn’t,” he replies with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, you did!” your voice is shaky as you raise it, afraid of getting in trouble but so sick and tired of his constant harassment.

“Did not,” he bites back like a child.

The teacher rubs her eyebrows with her hand, “I don’t have time for this. Both of you, principals office. He’ll deal with you.”

“But—“ you start to protest.

“Now,” she seethes, scribbling on two passes and extending them out with her hands.

Heaving a sigh, you stand from your desk and start gathering your things. Billy purposefully bumps into you as he walks up to the front, knocking everything from your hands.

When you exit the classroom, you expect him to already be down the hall but your luck would have him waiting against the hallway wall, grinning mischievously at you. Billy takes this moment to scan his eyes up and down your body, which unfortunately for him, goes unnoticed by you. You just think he’s an asshole, bullying you because he bullies all the nerds.

You say nothing, tightening your grip on your backpack straps as you hurry down the hall. Billy’s behind you, watching you way your skirt flutters against your thighs with every step you take. He decides he’s not done having fun, walking very closely behind you so he can step on the back of your shoe and declare, “Flat tire.”

Before you can comprehend his annoying joke, you’re stumbling forward and landing on your hands and knees.

“Ow,” you curse, thanking silently that you were able to catch yourself. You glare up at him, “What is your problem?!”

His smile doesn’t falter but he shrugs, “Oops.”

You stand up, no help from the blonde prick who’d caused the tumble in the first place, and dust yourself off.

“Why do you have to harass me so much?” you demand, tears welling up in your eyes. “You’re so mean to me and I’ve never even talked to you!”

Billy frowns, amused by your reaction and shamefully, a little turned on by the tears glistening in your eyes. Billy did get off on some light sadism during sex but this was something entirely new and something he wanted to keep provoking.

“It’s fun,” he says, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. He chews on his bottom lip, watching how his answer clears nothing up and you look at him with hurt painting every detail of your face. He imagines looking down at it in his bed, imagines what kind of noises you’d make and if he could get you to beg for him.

You wipe the tear that breaks free and turn back around, not wanting give Billy the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

In the principals office, he pleads innocence and even suggests your hair had gotten pinned against your back and the seat.

“I think she’s got a crush on me or something,” he invents, “She’s always making stuff up, saying I’m doing things when I’m not.”

Your jaw drops. You do not have a crush on Billy Hargrove. In fact, you hate him. He’s been making your life a living hell since he showed up.

“Mr. Anderson,” you plead, “I am not making this up.”

The principal is conflicted. You have a good reputation, you’re never in trouble and you make great marks. However, he’s seen how gaga all these teenage girls have gotten over the new guy from California and he seems to think you’re probably no different. He doesn’t know who to believe so he gives you both lunch detention for a week.

“That is so not fair,” you complain when he sends you on your way.

Billy looks at his watch, he’s got another few minutes alone with you until the bell rings. He decides to spend that time following you to your locker, leaning against it before you can get to it.

“Can you just leave me alone?!” you exhale, frustration bubbling through your body.

Billy loves seeing you so bothered, he wants to follow you all day and provoke it out of you.

“Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. See you around, geek,” he pushes passed you, nudging your shoulder hard when he does.

-

The classroom is buzzing when you walk in, kids are bouncing off the wall and you scan around to find an unbothered desk, tucked away in the corner away from everyone. You take solace in it, sinking into the seat and pulling out your homework folder before placing the paper sack containing your lunch at the corner of the desk.

Lo and behold, Billy decides to sit at the desk in front of you and for the life of you, you can’t figure him out. You see he has a couple friends suffering the same fate of detention but yet, he chooses to spend this hour harassing you. He swipes the paper bag and opens it up, peeking in to see it’s contents.

“What am I having today?” he wonders aloud, dodging your hand as you attempt to grab for your lunch. He pulls out the sandwich and opens the baggie, bringing it to his nose to get a sniff. He winces, exaggerating his disgust as he quickly pulls his head back, “Ew! Tuna?”

You’re able to grab the sandwich from him, meekly replying, “I like tuna.”

“Disgusting. You can keep it,” he mumbles, his eyes back in the bag.

“Hmm, let’s see,” he pulls out the bag of celery and carrots and tosses it onto your desk.

“There’s nothing good in here,” he announces, tone dripping in disappointment.

With a sigh, you reach into your backpack and offer him the pack of Snoballs you’d bought on your walk to school. He snatches them greedily, smiling wide and you don’t know why you even gave them to him.

“Why were you hiding these?” he asks around a mouthful of the pink pastry.

You shrug, “My moms kind of a health nut.”

That was an understatement. She would freak if she knew you were sneaking sweets whenever you could.

“Poor thing,” Billy pouts sarcastically and turns his attention back to the front as the principal walks in and rattles off an excuse why he won’t be in the room but says he’ll be checking in every ten minutes.

Great. With Billy being here you won’t be able to at least make this time productive and do a bit of your homework. You attempt anyway, shoving your lunch in your backpack because you’re suddenly embarrassed to eat it around Billy. You pull out your math worksheet and start at the first problem. Then there’s a mess of blonde curls on the paper and soon after, Billy’s entire head. He’s kicked his legs up over his desk and leaned completely back, looking up at you curiously.

For a brief moment, you admire his chiseled features. His thick eyelashes, bright blue eyes, adorable button nose, pink lips, and his sharp, strong jawline. You feel a slight twinge in your nether regions, something you’d only felt once before when flipping through a copy of Teen Beat at a sleepover. You know you’re blushing because Billy laughs, his adams apple bobbing up and down with the sound.

“Can you move your head? I’m trying to do my homework,” you choke out, trying to ignore how attractive he is.

“No,” he says it so casually, because he doesn’t want to move his head. He likes looking up at you like this, how flustered it’s making you.

However, his neck is starting to hurt and he fears this might look like flirting to someone else. But he’s kind of frozen there, smirking up at you.

“Please,” you whisper, hating the way your voice sounds on your ears.

Billy loves it, smirk turning into a pleased grin and he’s sure you’re soaking in your panties just from looking at his face. Not the safest thought at school, he thinks as he feels his dick twitch in his jeans and sits up, tucking his legs back under the desk and ignores you for the rest of the hour.

You’re relieved but shocked, catching yourself glancing up at the back of his head repeatedly. You’re sure he’s planning something sinister. The warning bell rings and you start to pack up all your things, pulling your lunch out so you can toss it in the trash on your way out. As it turns out, Billy was planning something but it wasn’t as thought out as you’d expected. He waits against the doorframe and as you’re walking past him and Tina, he sticks his foot out. Yours gets caught on it and you fall forward, unable to catch yourself this time as you face plant out into the hallway. Your nose stings, and it’s wet.

“Walk much?” Tina sings and you’re not sure which stings more, your chest or your nose.

You lift yourself up and look down to see blood on the floor, bringing your hand up to your nose and feeling thick fluid pouring out. Then you taste the blood, metallic on your tongue as it seeps down to your mouth.

You expect more laughter, and there is laughter but not the hyena-like laugh you anticipated.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Billy’s voice and feel his hand on your back.

You brace yourself for a shove to the ground but his other hand wraps around your bicep as he helps you to your feet.

“I’ll catch up with you guys,” he says to his buddies, ushering you down the hall and when they give him a confused look, he offers, “Not trying to get more detention.”

That makes sense. Why the hell would he be nice now?

“I figured you would’ve caught yourself,” he mumbles as you head toward the nurses office.

Even if you wanted to, you can’t speak. There’s too much blood and you really don’t like the taste of it. You were naturally clumsy, tripping over air most of the time but Billy doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know you.

As soon as he opens the door, he’s reaching for paper towels and holding them to your nose for you.

“Oh, no!” the nurse exclaims, standing from her desk and rushing over, “What happened?”

“She tripped,” Billy says, “Landed right on her face.”

The nurse nods to Billy, “Thanks for helping her down here. I’ll get her cleaned up. You can go to class.”

He shifts on his feet, “I’d actually like to stay. Make sure she’s okay and all.”

The nurse looks over at you and you nod slowly. You figure he’s making sure you don’t tattle on him again. Billy’s genuinely concerned though, he feels like his father and it makes his skin crawl. He didn’t intend to actually hurt you. Plopping on the cot beside you, he sits so close your arms are touching. His skin is warm, you notice, and it’s weirdly comforting. You think you actually want a hug from him even though he’s the reason your nose hurts so bad.

“Is it gonna bruise?” Billy inquires. He couldn’t forgive himself if it did.

“Too early to tell,” the nurse mumbles, tilting your head back to speed up the process.

The metallic taste drips down your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to get sick from it. You feel Billy’s fingers brush against yours for a brief second and he pulls away quickly. He eyes your face, his brows furrowed. God, he feels like an asshole and you totally think he’s one. A cute one but still an asshole.

“Does it hurt?” he asks when you’re walking to your respective classes, hall passes in hand.

“Yes,” you mutter.

The bridge of your nose aches dully. You also pray it doesn’t bruise, not sure of how to explain it to your mother. If she knew you were being bullied, she would march right up to the school and raise hell. Especially if she found out a boy was the one bullying you.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says, rushed before he walks into his class.

You can’t tell him it’s okay and maybe that’s for the best. It should be okay but you’re honestly not that mad at him.

-

After the awkward apology, you expect the torment to end. Wishful thinking. Billy’s at your locker when you get to it and he extends his hand. You look down at it confused and then back up to his eyes.

“Snoball,” he grunts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He’s just as bad as your mother. You heave a sigh and reach into your backpack, pulling out the packet of Ding-Dongs you’d excitedly purchased at the corner-store.

He laughs childishly as he snatches them from you, “You like Ding-Dongs, eh?”

“Stop,” you can’t handle the innuendo, cheeks on fire.

“I assumed you’d never had one before,” he looks at you with raised brows.

You falter, eyes widening as you push hm away from your locker and begin to enter the code. You haven’t. Ever. You’ve never even kissed a boy.

“And I was right,” Billy muses with another cackle, “You’re a fucking virgin.”

“Leave me alone,” you plead with a mumble, grabbing your textbooks and binders for the first four classes.

“As if that’s news to anyone,” Carol snorts as her and Tommy walk up.

Billy laughs harder, seemingly fueled by his friends joining in on the fun. Your stomach churns. All you want is for them to leave you alone. Sure, you’d dealt with teasing here and there since grade school but this was excessive. You didn’t even understand why they were doing it. Yeah, you were categorized as a nerd and a loner but there had to be another reason why Billy was picking on you so hard. You’d seen him get in fights with guys but you hadn’t seen him be so cruel so anyone else. Or obsessive.

“See ya around, geek,” he shuts your locker before you’re finished getting your things, strutting off down the hall with his friends. Magnetically, your eyes follow his ass in his extremely tight jeans. You catch yourself and press your forehead to your locker, groaning out loud.

-

He had been sure you were a virgin, but now that you’ve confirmed it, his mind is racing. He sits back in his chair, the teachers lecture going in one ear and out the other as he ponders if you’ve even kissed someone before or if he’s the first man to give you any kind of attention.

The thought is odd though. You’re definitely not unattractive. Yeah, you focused on school and when you dressed provocative, he could tell it wasn’t your intention to have eyes on you. God, he loved when you wore skirts. Which, with the season changing and the temperature rising, you did most days.

The bookworm thing kind of turns him on which was new. He’d never been into it before he saw you. All the girls he’d hooked up with in the past ran in the same social circles with him. You were quite the change of pace, maybe that what his fascination with you was about. Who was he kidding? It was your thighs.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as the bell rings, indicating it’s lunch time. Another hour with you. He’s pleased to see you in the same seat as before. He takes the desk in front of you, snaking his leg around the seat so he sits facing you. He picks up the lunch sack placed at the corner and dumps the contents out onto the desk, pursing his lips as he pokes around at what your moms packed today. Not much of it looks good enough to eat. He sees your cleavage peaking up from your shirt and grins, now that’s appetizing.

“That’s a low cut shirt,” he points out, hooking his finger in the collar and pulls the material down.

Your eyes widen as you pull back and slap his hand away. He smirks, watching as your cheeks redden. You pull your shirt back up, willing the warmth spreading up your thighs to subside as you squeeze them together. You liked this kind of teasing much more and wished he’d just stick to that stuff.

“Can I put my lunch away now or are you not done picking through it?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

His mouth scrunches up to the side, like he’s thinking it over before he delicately picks up the baggie filled with apple slices. He opens it and pulls one out, inspecting it carefully before taking a bite of it. He keeps his eyes on yours while he eats it and his gaze gets too intense for you to hold. Shoving the various baggies of food back the paper sack, you keep your eyes focused on your hands. In your peripheral, you notice Billy holding out an apple slice to you. As you peer up, fingers extending to accept the offer, he pulls his hand back and laughs. You give him a defeated look.

“Get it with your teeth, not your fingers,” he instructs, his tone condescending as he offers it again.

You don’t know why, but you listen, taking the apple slice with your teeth. You hate the way he smiles at you, like he knows he could get you to do anything for him. Worst of all, you hate that you would, hate the way he excites you, the way you want to do what he says. You’re worried you might be a whore.

Your mom had warned you about boys like Billy. Boys with pretty eyes and smiles that could corrupt you. Perhaps that’s why you’ve never entertained the thought of being involved with any boy in that way.

He grins sadistically, “Good girl.”

Your breath catches in your throat. His words only making that rising heat harder to ignore.

You’re saved by Mr. Anderson, “Billy. Sit in the goddamn seat properly and stop antagonizing Ms. Y/L/N.”

Billy’s snatching your pencil before he follows the principals order. You think you see him blushing when he’s yelled at but you can’t be sure, it happens too fast. You reach into your pencil case to replace the one he’s stolen, getting started on the chemistry homework you were dreading. You wish he’d distract you again, but he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t say another word to you the rest of the hour and you don’t see him the remainder of the school day.

[dilfhos]

STRAY

#!WHO : SHIGARAKI TOMURA

#!CC: puppygirl!reader, thoughts of depravity, readers kinda naive, no thots just dick, there’s no expressive consent but reader’s kinda dumb and needy, use of “doggy” and “pup”. reader does actually bark (not them arf, yips! like a husky, heady bark.) MDNI.

+bringing back this banger from my old blog. you can also read it on my ao3. im nervous lol idk how its gonna hold up 2 years later, diff audience. i can’t remember the ask specifically but it was something like Shigaraki finding a stray and he ends up using her. omg and i want to tag @bakatenshii idk if you remember my old alias but i do remembered you loved this fic!

+NETWORK(S): @angelshub @bitchcraftinc (i keep forgetting to do this mL, excuse the random @/lovelies)

“Good girl,” Shigaraki whispers and he really means it, at least for now. It makes him think having a pet like you may not be all that bad…

Shigaraki still wonders how he ever let this be, an animal-woman hybrid living in his already cramped apartment. Doesn’t know why he hadn’t bothered to kick you out either. But it could be anybody’s guess as to why you still remain.

It all started when he got into an argument with his landlord, one that required him the self control to back off and avoid killing the bastard. It was rainy but Shigaraki paid no mind to the stinging raindrops that pelted his skin and soaked his clothes. It was dark out, but not too dark as to not notice you cowering against the side of his building upon his return. Your eyes were closed as you trembled in the cold rain.

Shigaraki didn’t know why he found himself moving closer to get a better look at you but when your eyes shot open, he found himself almost curious. He’d never seen anything like you before. Especially when your ears, you very doglike ears twitched forward, erect and alert. But you didn’t seem all that afraid. You were dressed in soaked shirt that was too big for you as it sagged off your body.

He crouched down and you inched toward him reluctantly and as you moved from your previous position, his eyes sought out the tail that had been tucked in between your legs.

“Hey, there you are,” Someone cooed from behind him. Shigaraki turned to eye the man. There was nothing all that remarkable about him; he wore all black, his hood over his head save for a few dark locks that stuck to his brows. Shigaraki wasn’t the least bit intimidated. But that couldn’t be said for you as you frantically dove into his arms, letting out a frightened whimper. Your ears flattened against your head as your hands curled into Shigaraki’s coat.

He wanted to back you off and leave from the situation as it had nothing to do with him and was fixing to do so when he looked down. Your pupils were blown and eyes glossy, pleading.

He sighed before standing, pulling you up with him to stand on trembling feet.

“She yours?” Shigaraki mumbled. You moved behind him, your hands tightening on his clothes.

“Heh, yeah, ran right out through the door. Isn’t that right baby?” You growled all while cowering behind Shigaraki’s form.

“No collar,” Shigaraki noted.

“Been meaning to get her one. C’mon baby, why don’t you leave the nice man alone and come back home with me?” He cooed.

The utter confidence and trust you had in Shigaraki at this moment was appalling. He barely covered the man in terms of height and upon first glance, he looked rather average. Definitely not the type to win in a fist fight. So why were you so dependent on him to save you?

Shigaraki didn’t have time to really think too much about it because the man advanced, silver glinting under the streetlamp. You yelped and cowered back against the wall again, covering your eyes.

You heard a grunt followed by a pained cry as that then died into the sound of pelting rain. When you lowered your shaky hands, Shigaraki was standing over a pile of what looked to be ash, the knife a few feet away.

Ever since that night, he couldn’t seem to shake you.

You’re loyal and to him, it’s annoying. Showing up at his doorsteps turns into you sleeping on his ratty couch. His chasing you away turns into grumbles of tolerance. The typical sneer he wears when you come sniffing around dissolved in hidden blushes and twitched lips as your distrustful cowering eventually turn into you becoming disturbingly comfortable around him.

After another day of pressing his key into the lock does he already see you on the other side of the door, tail whipping back and forth in excitement as you await his return. Except he isn’t really in the mood. Today was particularly bad and he wanted nothing more than to possibly let off steam, maybe watch something, blow his load and sleep.

“Stupid mutt, stop doing that!” He growls when his back immediately slams against the door, eyes narrowed in the way you smile up at him.

“Welcome home sir.” You beamed.

Another thing you picked up was calling him ‘sir’. Despite the many times he tells you not to. He wasn’t your last owner, and honestly, he’d like it if you didn’t call him anything. But every one of his complaints go through one ear and out the other with you having half the intelligence of an actual dog.

He recoils when he feels your tongue graze his neck. Groans when it doesn’t just end there. You’re licking his chin, his neck, and when your tongue laps over his lips, he’s trying to buck you off. But you’re so persistent as you press further against him, your front grinding up against his groin unknowingly.

Shigaraki bites back a moan at your ignorance, his cock already hardening from your aimless shifting.

You couldn’t feel the bulge pushing against your thigh? The soft grunts he’d release when you’d lap at the rough skin of his neck? You can’t be that stupid or then maybe you are.

But would it be that bad if you are? Because then he wouldn’t feel guilty when he dreams of stuffing you full with his cock. You practically ask for it every chance you get with him. The sleeping in his bed, your excessive show of affection, the sickening devotion in your eyes.

And then, isn’t it what he deserved? He did save you that night. Do you even remember how easy it could have been for him to just walk away? To give you up to that creep? Sure it only happened a few weeks ago but he thinks of that night as if it was only the last. How when he brought you home and went to retrieve a towel to dry you up, you were on your hands and knees practically presenting yourself to him as you slumped in exhaustion. As if giving him the go ahead to do what he wanted to and by gods, it took everything with him not to.

He wasn’t a hero, not by a long shot. And maybe you didn’t have the mental capacity to accept that he was actually a villain because in your eyes, he was your savior.

But as said, today was a particularly bad day and right now he felt anything but.

So just this once he’ll give in. Whether you wanted it or not didn’t matter to him at this point, already past contemplation. After all you’re his pet now, his property and if he can’t do this then what good are you really?

You release your little whimpers and when you look up, your eyes are wide, so full of confusion when he suddenly has you on your hands and knees pressing into you from behind on the floor. Your owner wears a new look, his eyes so feral, teeth gritted. And you know that look; it was the look of your last owner among all the other men that tried to take you on the streets. Hunger. Greed. Desperation.

And you should be wary, should cower away from the carnality in his eyes because you know better than anyone that when it’s present one thing is desired. Yet, you hold your ground. You don’t struggle, in fact he could just make out the way your hips shimmy back a little bit and the whine that surfaces from your throat.

You just can’t help it, the air around you has changed. A thick cloud of hot lust is weighing down around you and so much so, you can’t help but to submit. Besides you trust him one for reasons you can’t figure out.

Shigaraki refuses to meet your eyes, instead he quickly fumbles with his belt and takes out his hard cock. A blush spreads across his face when he eyes the steady slick trailing down your thighs and upon closer inspection he can see how swollen you were and that’s what does him in.

It’s what has him surging forward, bottoming out completely inside of you. Your ears flatten against your head as you let out the neediest sounding moan, one that has a shiver licking down his spine.

“Shit. Shit,” He should feel ashamed, taking advantage of you like this. But he clings on the fact that he’s a villain, that’s his justification. A villian with his pet, that’s all this is.

It’s fueling his newfound vigor as he speeds up, the heat of your tight cunny sucking him in with every cant of his hips.

His fingers dig into the plush of your hips as his own thrust forward, his cock forcing past your tight ring of muscle. You look back again, your eyes glossy with tears, long tongue hanging out as you whine and pant. He was so thick, so heavy within your tight, hot walls. Your nails scrape helplessly against the dingy carpet as he rocks into you with so much drive.

In the midst of your panting and whining surfaces his voice, so grating and filthy as he tumbles every degrading name in the book. It should worry him and yet it has his stomach knotting up, his thighs and glutes tightening as he holds on to your hips for dear life. And in the midst of that is the loud, wet, shlicks of each sink into you.

“My needy little bitch. Taking my cock like a good doggy,” He grits, eyeing the recoil of your ass against his hips.

His hand seeks out the base of your tail as he uses it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. And it hurts, it has the tears spilling over and yet, your cunt only tightens around him some more.

“F-Feels good sir!” You cry out at about the same time as he mumbles,

“Good doggy, such a good pup,” And at his praise, your ears bend forward, and your tail begins to switch slowly in his gasp. You feel a knot in your tummy, desperately winding down to what you’re chasing. It has you rocking back against him needy to have, so so needy. And the way your resolve has melted away, it makes all his thoughts of guilt completely vanish, leaving him with an unbearable need to fill you up.

He’s quickly pulling out and flipping you onto your back, nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he spreads you wide.

You were so wet, inhumanly so as it’s gushing down onto the carpet and the sight alone has him nearly cumming right then and there but he holds it. At least until he’s thrusting into you again, your head thrown back as you let out a broken whine. Your tits bounce with all the force he’s using as he’s putting everything into these last moments. His one track kind only focuses in the tuft of fur above your cunny, at the way your puffy lips pull part each time he's pushing forward and the slick coating his cock.

You’re yelping with each kiss he delivers to your cervix, hands desperate to hold onto to your new owner. You reach out and he grasps your wrists, using you to thrust impossibly deeper into you. Static fills his mind as his eyes roll back, his hips slamming against yours, balls smacking your ass each time.

“Fuck, fuck cumming!”

“Sir! Sir please-” You cut your own self off with a heady bark, one that startles him. It’s also what has him groaning as he twitches, his seed spilling so suddenly into you. Your pussy milks him as you gush around his dick and it has him falling over, elbows pressed into the carpet on either side of your head. Your legs wrap around his waist as your hips shimmy up against him, whining as you push past your own limits, twitching every so slightly at the overstimulation and sealing this moment of what would be the best one in your simple little head.

“Good girl,” Shigaraki whispers and he really means it, at least for now. It makes him think having a pet like you may not be all that bad.

He also thinks he should probably name you.

dilfos. do not plagiarize any parts of my content— current or archival. all rights reserved.

[random-gamer1942]

(1/7) The train that was

Trainwreck Graveyard

(2/7) Ready to go

The train started coming to a halt about a minute after the explosion

Why do these things have to be so loud, the sheriff thought, ears still ringing. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, before attempting to stand up

Her legs were a bit shaky, but she couldn't care less with the situation at hand. Once the train had fully stopped, she stepped onto the ground through the missing back of the cabin and looked off into the distance

Broken pieces of metal were scattered everywhere, and the rails had been damaged. The last 2 cabins had been disconnected and derailed where the explosion happened a good 70-80 yards back, and was currently on it's side

Thankfully she didn't see anyone in there. The train station only let you walk directly into the first three cabins and this was a less busy time of week, but this could've been bad

As she started walking to investigate the site, someone approuched from the train. She looked back and saw a man that looked annoyed - and what she very easily recognized as a concealed sawed-off shotgun in his coat

With a smooth motion she pulled both her revolvers. "I know a thug when I see one, who the hell are you?"

He flinched, but didn't do anything. Instead, he said "The 2 that rode off don't count then? Besides, not everything revolves around you, big-shot. I gotta find those outlaws before I lose this gig."

"Gi-? Ah, hired protection. Say, you talk big for someone who should've prevented this in the first place."

"Whatever, just let me do my job", he said, walking towards the disconnected cabins to investigate, with the sheriff following suit

After a few minutes of looking around they discovered 2 things: 1) tracks, clearly from horses, and 2) a monocle, but from one of those outlaws. It seems there had been someone in the cabin after all, though there was no trace of them...

The man turned to the sheriff. "Well, good luck with writing a report or whatever, I'm off", as he started following the tracks.

"Hold your horses, cowboy. No way are you going after them by yourself, can't have another missing person on my conscience."

"I don't plan on going missing Ms. Big-shot. But fine, come along if you have to."

"Stop calling me that, my name's Ashlyn."

"No thanks, I'm fine with Big-shot. But for the sake of pleasantries, I'm Tyler."

She sighed. She didn't like working with others, especially knuckleheads like him. But she had this strange feeling she was gonna need all the help she could get. And right as she thought that, someone else came running up

"An adventure!? I'm coming along!", said the woman, who looked very excited. And kind of like the knucklehead too, the sheriff thought

"No way Tay, too dangerous. Besides, shouldn't you stay behind to fix the train?"

"C'mon Ty, not even I could fix this by myself. The conductor has already sent for help from a few other mechanics, they won't even notice I'm gone."

"But-"

"Besides, mom said we should always stick together. I'm going."

"Fine. But is the luggage really necessary", he asked, gesturing at the large backpack she had with her

"You never know what you'll need, and you always take too little with you. And I'm carrying it myself, so stop complaining", she snapped back

He sighed, defeated. Siblings, good to know, Ash noted. And soon, they were ready to set off

...

Aiden sat on the back of his cousin's horse, looking at the sunset. "Say Stache, why in tarnation did we take that softie again?"

The man on the horse next to him with a large moustache looked increasingly annoyed from being asked the same question for the who-knows-how-oftenth time. "Smiles, I swear to the lord in the heavens above, if you ask me that question again I'll throw this shrimp on your guys' horse."

"It don't make no sense to me though..."

"For the LAST time, he's important leverage for the possible skirmishes next week."

"But why'd they give two shit bout 'im? 'Leverage' didn't work last time."

"That's because you're the only person on this darned earth insane enough to enjoy being kidnapped by criminals, and whose parents would for some reason be okay with you wanting to stay?"

"I mean, it do be excitin', don't it?"

"Just shut up, you're givin' me another headache. Besides, we're here."

He pointed to a cave about 300 yards away, with dim orange light coming out of it. After riding for a few more moments the 4 horses came to a stop. The cousins, the man with a moustache, and 3 others stepped off their horses

The man who rode in front grabbed a weird object from his horse and gave the reins to one of the other outlaws

"Cwrwfwll wwth thwt", the kid on the back of Stache's horse mumbled through the cloth in his mouth, but noone paid him any mind

"Scars, Salted, tie them horses down. Stache, grab that kid and come with me. Same for y'all, Smiles, Silent."

Some 'yes sir's and 'alrighty's were said and Ben nodded. Stache threw the young 20-something with light brown hair over his shoulder and, together with the cousins, started following the boss

Inside, they saw a handful of others sitting around a campfire. The group, including them, consisted of about a dozen outlaws, ranging from about 16 to 40 years old

A few of them greeted the boss and the three others as they came walking in. A bit later, the last to also came to join them

"Alrighty, seems everyone's here. I think we're almost ready boys. A few more days and our names will be known throughout the country", the leader said, lighting a cigar. "A few more days..."

(3/7): in progress

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

when i call, you run home (a bird in your teeth)

Ao3 | 2.1k Words | David’s POV

He and Ash always had to wander off, had to find fun for themselves, even if it meant doing something stupid. His dad always said that it was natural for boys their age to get into trouble, that he had done the same thing when he was young. As long as they were safe, he didn’t mind.

-

A teenaged Ash nearly steps in a bear trap. David saves him by stepping in it himself. Gabe and Marie come to the rescue.

TW: blood and injury, healing, distress

When David came back to himself he did it slowly, blinking past the ache in his head as he struggled to open his sluggish eyes. He felt heavy and tired, like he’d ran a marathon. He tried to stretch and figure out exactly where he was, but his body was weighed down and heavy.

“Ash…” he said softly, more growl than word as he struggled to open his eyes and see what was hurting him. He was starting to get the distinct impression that something was very wrong, but the panic that should rise in him and the subsequent adrenaline that should run its course and give him a push never came. It was like he was tapped out, like any energy he had for panic or action was gone already. When had he run himself down so fiercely? What was happening?

His eyes managed to crack, but he was surprised to find that it was still dark. Not as dark, though. There was moonlight. A nearly full moon beating down on him. On them.

Asher was laying a few feet off from him, pushing himself up on shaky arms.

“What the fuck, man, you can’t just push a guy like that-” he looked at David like he was about to pounce, but the color drained from his face as his expression went slack. “Don’t move.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

David jerked immediately, rushed to assess what was wrong just as Asher reached him and pressed down on his shoulders. He craned his neck to take stock of his body. His torso was intact. His hands were shaky but still there. He couldn’t feel his right foot.

“Shit…” Asher hissed. His eyes were wide and he stank of fear and panic. David reached up and knotted his hand in the sleeve of Asher’s t-shirt. “I can’t-” Ash’s hands hovered over his right foot, and when he finally jerked into action, David felt it.

A sharp, raw ache pulsed through his leg as Asher tried to pry the bear trap off of his leg. He must have screamed. That was the only thing that made sense to him. He couldn’t hear it, though, over the ringing in his ears.

Asher was holding on to him, gripping his shoulders and repeating apologies over and over again like a mantra, like a spell that could make it all better. David’s hand was still clutched in his shirt as tears dripped down across his face. Fuck, he hated it when Asher cried.

“I’m sorry-” Ash said again, his voice cracking like it had been for the past three months, which David had taken every opportunity to bully him about. It was mutual, of course, since Asher had been doing the same since David’s voice had dropped. He couldn’t shake the instinct to poke fun, even as pain radiated up his leg. “Why did you do that?” Asher huffed. “Why do you always-”

David thunked his head back into the ground. He remembered. It took a second, but he remembered. He and Ash always had to wander off, had to find fun for themselves, even if it meant doing something stupid. His dad always said that it was natural for boys their age to get into trouble, that he had done the same thing when he was young. As long as they were safe, he didn’t mind.

The woods always felt safe. Safer than some places in Dahlia. It must have been the wildness in them, the wolf under their skin itching for wilderness. It was why the pack went camping so much. His dad always said to watch their feet. There were snakes and traps hidden in the grass.

Asher never really listened he’d been scolded enough times to have learned his lesson, but it still didn’t seem to get through his stupid skull. He’d almost stepped on a copperhead last summer because his head was always in the clouds, so David still watched the ground for the both of them just in case. When he saw the bear trap, gleaming in the soft moonlight, right where Asher was about to step down, he moved without even thinking. He planted his foot down between Asher’s and pushed. He just hadn’t realized that he put his foot directly into the trap until it triggered and snapped together so hard he felt something snap.

“Ash,” He said again, his voice strained and shaking. “My dad, get-”

“No,” Ash said immediately. “I won’t leave you I’ll… I can carry you, it’ll…”

No, that wouldn’t work. They were a good ways away from camp, so far that their scuffle wouldn’t be within ear shot. He needed help fast. He was bleeding, and chances for infection would only increase the longer they waited. If Asher moved him, jostled him in just the right way, he could dislodge the trap, fracture his leg further, hit a blood vessel…

“Won’t work.” He gritted out. “You gotta be fast. Get my dad. Please, Ash-” He gripped his fist tighter, let the small pain of his nails biting into his palm to distract him. “Watch where you’re stepping.”

Asher hesitated for a moment longer, still gripping onto David’s shoulders until he huffed and bolted up. David watched him go, watched his heaving back disappear into the brush before he let his head fall back. It was only when he was sure Asher was gone that he let himself feel the fear racing through him. His chest was tight, his leg pounding and oozing and aching. His hand fell to the ratty fabric of his blue jeans. He was losing blood. He needed to deal with that. He needed to keep a clear head and deal with this.

His dad had shown him how to make a tourniquet out of the leather belt he’d bought him for his thirteenth birthday. He’d wrapped it around one of the throw pillows in their living room and shown David how to tighten it before securing the tension. He had warned him that it would hurt, but that it could save somebody’s life.

David did it just like his dad had shown him, his fingers slick and shaking as he wrapped that same belt around his calf. It was best to protect any joints he could. He wasn’t a morbid person, he didn’t jump to the worst case scenario, but looking at where he was now, alone in the dark, away from his pack and miles out from civilization, he was likely to go a little while without treatment. If he lost his ankle, he would keep his knee.

When David synched the belt around his calf, felt that pain his dad was talking about, the teeth shattering pain ripping through him, he must have passed out. When his head cleared and he could blink past the spots in his vision to see the nearly-full moon above him, he heard a sound from the forest.

“David!” It was distant, but it was his dad’s voice. As soon as he heard it, a sob escaped him. He hadn’t realized he was close to crying, but he was. He felt tears brimming in his eyes as he pressed his head back into the soft grass. He raised one shaking hand high above him, saw the blood dripping down his fingers as he did.

“I’m here!” He called back. “I’m here!” They needed to locate him. He was in the underbrush and it was dark. Asher wouldn’t remember his exact location in his hurry.

“David!” His dad’s voice was closer. David could hear the huff of a few others and tried desperately to stop crying. He didn’t want to cry in front of the pack.

His shaking hand was empty one second and full the next. His dad’s hands were big and calloused and they closed over his so gently as he skidded to a halt next to him.

“Hey,” He said softly. “Hey, bud. I’ve gotcha. I’ve gotcha.”

“I know that.” David huffed. Gabe laughed, but David could see the worry in him, the etch of it across his face. He hated when his dad worried. It was so rare that when it happened, it threw him completely off.

“Stay still, David.” He hadn’t even noticed Milo’s mom until she spoke, but he nodded anyway, knotted grass in his fingers as she started to examine his leg. “You did so well. The tourniquet, staying still. Good work, kiddo.”

Gabe moved and rested his knees on either side of David’s head. Keeping his neck stable and ready to brace him, David realized. One of those big hands came to brush through David’s hair. It has gotten long over the summer and was falling in his face.

“Where’s Ash?” He asked softly. Gabe smiled down at him.

“He took a tumble, so he stayed back. Milo’s with him. He’s taken care of.” David squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. He knew that there was a risk sending Asher off alone, but he hadn’t really allowed himself to think about that until now. He felt Milo’s mom start to situate his leg.

“We’re going to have to release the trap.” She said softly. “It’s… not going to be pleasant.”

“We’ve got this.” Gabe replied. “We can handle it, right bud?” David nodded again, pressed his face into Gabe’s leg.

“Just do it.” He said softly. “Get it over with.”

Some silent understanding passed between the adults above him. They were still for a moment, and then Gabe was bent over him, pushing his weight down on top of David and holding him. He had one second to panic before pain ripped through him. He felt the jaws of the thing tear back out of his leg. It was white hot and all encompassing and impossible. He felt his body try to shift to get away from the pain, but he still didn’t have much control over his wolf. He bit down on his lip to stop the cry that tried to worm its way out of his chest. His mouth filled up with copper. His dad was bent over him, his forehead pressed into David’s sternum as he muttered little encouragements, soft praise, gentle apologies.

Marie’s magic had never been comfortable, but as it ran its course through him, David felt it’s every movement. His skin started stitching back together where the teeth of the trap had cut into him. He whimpered softly as the bleeding slowed, as the bruises eased back from the surface; red into purple into yellow and green.

He didn’t scream until she got to his bone. It was broken in a few places, and he felt every scrape of bone on bone as it shifted back into place. He shouted long and loud, back arching, pushing against his dad’s hold to… do what exactly? Run away from the pain? He felt so foolish as he choked down another cry, tears pricking his eyes. Gabe sat up, one big hand coming to rest against David’s forehead.

“I know!” He said, his face twisted up in a growl or a sob or something horrible like that. “I know, honey, I know. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

His dad didn’t call him things like that. Not since he was very little.

Slowly, David’s vision cleared, his voice cracking off and failing as he curled inwards towards his dad. Marie let go of his leg. It still pulsed with distant pain, but he could feel that it was whole again. Gabe gathered him up, lifted him from the grassy ground and into his lap, his arms, cradled him like a baby against his chest.

“Dad,” he said softly, his face pressed into his dad’s leather jacket.

“I know. I know, honey. I’ve got you.”

Eventually, his dad stood with David still wrapped up in his arms. Gabe was so strong, it amazed him sometimes. He wasn’t a small kid, even if Asher was taller than him. Even so, his dad held him like he didn’t weigh a pound.

“You’re gonna have to put me down before we get back to camp.” David said after a while. He knew that there was a sizable portion of the pack in the woods surrounding them, shifted and moving in the darkness. He could feel them in his core, that new, foreign fullness in his chest. His threads strummed a strange music, pressed up against his dad, covered on all sides by the pack. Even so, this felt private, unobserved in the darkness. He didn’t want anybody else to see it. Embarrassment creeped into the edges of his exhaustion. “Ash’ll never let me live this down.”

“Ash was screaming that he’d gotten you killed.” Gabe chuckled. David twisted up his face.

“He’s so dramatic.” He huffed. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah.” Gabe replied. “Still not putting you down.”

[mlmxreader]

At The Top of The Mountain | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "You hit him and I will knock your head from your shoulders'' w Ith ghost please ❞

: ̗̀➛ War is not merciful, it is not kind. Even one justifiable death is not enough to warrant it.

: ̗̀➛ blood, knife violence, gun violence, bombing, swearing, smoking, physical fighting, graphic depictions of dead bodies, graphic depictions of war

↳ PROSHIP/PROFIC/ETC DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The dead were piling high at the bottom of the mountain, soldiers crying as they were crushed by armoured vehicles and tanks alike; swallowed by the seemingly endless pits created by the heavy shells and grenades and mortars. A symphony of the worst kind of destruction.

Soldiers cried out for their mothers, but they would never come to collect their babies; not as the rats feasted on the fresh corpses and the wounded without discrimination. The enemy might have bled heavily, but it was not going to end there.

Stormclouds formed above, a heavy rain of pelting bombs that smashed into the already scarred lands and threw up great scabs to make the wounds larger and deeper.

A thin mist of greenish yellow was cast upon the fields, and the soldiers cried even more as they fell to their knees and coughed up foam and blood; their lungs on fire and their eyes melting slowly.

Even water was dangerous. In desperation, soldiers tried to hide and seek shelter, but where the bombs and bullets could not reach, the gas sought them out with ease. Making them spit venom that burned their insides and expelled them through chapped and blistered lips.

What mercy could ever be given?

A bullet in the skull was better than the gas, but it was somehow worse to survive. To see men turn to piles of ashes.

To see their torsos scattered up in branches whilst their limbs littered the dead trunks. Their legs and arms torn to shreds, exposing bone and frayed and torn uniform pieces; soldiers scrambled and fought over dead men's boots, tugging and pushing one another like starved wolves over a sheep carcass.

It was never going to be a place of mercy, a place of kindness; war was never going to give anyone the chance to die with dignity. It was either die for propaganda, or allow yourself to live with the guilt of knowing that you could not take anyone away from its powerful and all-consuming jaws.

Its gnashing teeth that shook chunks away from men's bodies and left them tossed carelessly across the land. At the bottom of the mountain, the bodies continued to pile up.

At the top of the mountain, however, it was far worse.

The rocks were slick and shaky, it was easy to slip and fall over the edge; you had seen it happen already. The rain was heavy, pulling your weight down as your uniforms grew heavier and heavier with every passing second; you were struggling to even pick up your rifle, hands slick and slippery from the rain and the mud coating your skin.

When you looked over to Ghost, though, your heart sank.

He was pinned down by a towering, hulking beast of a man screaming in Austrian German; he held a knife above his head, and you couldn't help it.

Dropping your rifle and launching yourself at him. He landed on his back, and you quickly sunk your knife into his shoulder.

"Scheisse!"

You pulled the knife out, not caring that the blood dripped thin and orange as the blade grew wet. "Shut the fuck up! You hit him and I will knock your head from your shoulders!"

"I will kill you!" He howled in a thick Tyrol accent.

You sunk the knife into his chest, then pulled it out. You didn't even blink as you did it; your stare growing distant and hazy the more that you plunged it into his body. Blood spattering across your face and running down your cheeks in a thick orange haze.

You couldn't stop, not until Ghost grabbed you by the back of your shirt collar and violently pulled you away. You stumbled back, falling onto your backside as you held the knife tightly in your hands. He knelt between your knees, shaking his head.

"Flanders?"

Your voice was broken and raw as you quietly responded, "Albert."

Ghost shook his head, unconvinced as he swallowed thickly. "You're not alright... wipe the blood off your face."

You didn't move as he got up, walking over the body you had left behind; he crouched down, finding a wallet and scoffing as he shook his head.

"König?" He grumbled. "Bit of an ego on this cunt... oi! C'mere!"

Steadily, you stood up, and walked over to him in a daze; you were shaking, and your gaze was still unfocused and hazy.

"Look at it," Ghost scoffed with disgust. "Piece of filth."

You didn't look down. "Uh-huh."

Slowly, he stood, and swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry I brought you here, y'know. This ain't... except for that cunt, this ain't war - just senseless fucking death."

"He attacked you..."

Ghost glared at you for a moment. "Yeah, and you risked everything to save me."

"He attacked you..." you repeated.

"You did good, soldier," he sighed. "I'd kiss you, but not until you've got that blood off your face."

He knew that he never should have allowed it; he knew that when you signed up to the mission with him, he never should have let Price agree to it.

Ghost never wanted you, his significant other, to be as scarred by war as he was.

But you were still a soldier, and he knew that. He knew that soldiers could never escape it no matter how hard they tried to.

All that needless and senseless death. All that pain and misery.

Was it really worth it?

Was there really any glory?

Was there any point?

"C'mon," Ghost said quietly, putting your arm around his shoulders. "I'm taking you back to the trenches. We'll get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You still didn't answer.

"Tell you what," he mused. "How's a packet of crisps and a sarnie sound? Price got some jam stored away, and I know he's got some cheese, too... make your favourite - cheese and jam, yeah?"

No answer.

Ghost didn't know what else to sigh as he sighed heavily, all but tugging you along with him.

War was never going to be kind.

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Kinktober 2024 Day Twenty

Anonymous Sex

Kate Laswell/Valeria Garza

When Valeria was alone in the crate again, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Laswell. Kate Laswell. It had to be a coincidence… right?

That night was something she barely remembered anymore. She hadn’t thought about it consciously in… years. In fact, that entire period of life was one she has just pushed away, in an active decision to not think about it anymore.

But, despite the shaky nature of human memory, once upon a time, there was a bar. A bar Valeria knew well, as it had once been her usual haunt with her friends, one she’d left and come back to for once last night of fun with her friends before she committed to her service in the military.

The night was hot, the bar was packed, and the alcohol was as cheap and shitty as it had ever been. She’d suggested that she and her friends could go somewhere else, somewhere better, since Valeria could afford it; but her friends couldn’t, so they’d ended up going back here. She didn’t see why the cost of things mattered, since more often than not, her friends had drinks bought for them. If you’re going to sponge off someone else already, at least dig in for the good stuff.

Her bad mood had landed Valeria alone at the bar as she internally griped at how much she hated the music playing, how she was sick of strangers trying to strike up conversation with her when all she really wanted to be doing was hanging out with her friends, and how much harder, how much more dangerous it was for her to get a hook up than it was for them.

Someone hopped up to sit on the stool next to her, breaking Valeria out of her thoughts. She gripped her glass tight, turning to the figure, ready to tell yet another guy where he could stick his penis, only to find a woman hailing the bartender.

She wasn’t even looking at her.

She was an American on holiday, Valeria immediately knew. Blonde hair tied back in a pony tail, an American accent lingering on her words as she ordered a whiskey sour, tugging the ash tray towards her as she pulled a packet of cigarettes from her jeans pocket.

Val realised she was staring, and went back to her drink. She sipped her rum, before almost dropping it in surprise when the blonde nudged her arm.

“Hi. Don’t suppose you’ve got a light?”

“Give us one of those, and I might.” Val set her glass down, already reaching into her jacket pocket for her lighter as the blonde smiled and slid the pack over to her. Val took one, and had the courtesy to light the blonde’s cigarette before her own.

“You on holiday?”

“Is it that obvious?” She chuckled. “Yeah. About to start a job that takes me abroad, to Europe. Might not have the opportunity to holiday for a while.”

“Military?”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “Do I look like it?”

“Nah.” Val shook her head, taking a drag on the cigarette. “I am, too. But, more local than you.”

“Congrats.” The blonde tapped the ash off. “Always good to have more women in the military.”

Val nodded slowly as the bartender came back with the whiskey sour. The blonde reached to pay, but Val slid the money across first.

“Let me.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, sipping the drink, a silent beat hanging in the air before she spoke again. “You know, I saw how you turned that guy off earlier. Made him slink right off, with his tail between his legs.”

Val chuckled. “Had to. He wasn’t my… my, uh, type.”

“I know the feeling.” The blonde cheek’s flushed, and she quickly turned away from Valeria’s gaze when their eyes met, like she’d said too much.

Val sipped her drink again. Trust her to only be able to get her hook into someone who couldn’t be less of her type of woman. But she was desperate. Being cooped up every day in an environment full of dick measuring, on a base full of men who thought she shouldn’t even be there, let alone competing with them, was desperately taking its toll on her. She needed some good company. A woman’s company.

“Are you staying nearby?” She glanced at her new friend again.

She nodded. “I’m here with a group. We’re all staying together. It’s… not far away.”

Val nodded, and they both sipped their drinks again.

“I’m Kate.”

“Maria.” Valeria responded. There was no reason to give her real name to someone she wasn’t going to see again. And, more chance that it wouldn’t end up back at her workplace. That itself was unlikely, but Valeria wasn’t taking chances.

Kate nodded and stubbed out her cigarette before draining her glass.

“I should probably go tell my friends I’ll be heading off early. If we… are?” She looked at Val for confirmation.

Valeria nodded. “I should do the same. And, meet at that door so they know we’re not leaving alone.”

Kate nodded. “See you in a minute.”

She brushed by Val as she stood, leaving the scent of her vanilla perfume behind as she walked back to where her group sat in the corner.

Val drained her glass and headed straight to the door, mentioning in passing to one of her friends that she was leaving. She didn’t think she’d been heard, as her friend appeared to be too deeply invested in a guy’s story about how he was planning to revamp his grandmother’s florist shop, to pay much attention to her.

She waited and met Kate at the door as they had agreed.

“Shall we?” Kate gestured towards it.

Val nodded and led the way out onto the street, letting Kate point the way to the house she was staying in. It was indeed not far, only a couple of minutes away. Kate opened the door and let them inside, locking it behind them as Val trailed through the generic holiday home, kicking her shoes off by the door. She turned and smiled at Kate when she took Val’s hand and pulled her up the stairs, into the bedroom she was using, quickly drawing the blind down as Val snapped the lamp on.

“So… Are we good?” Kate asked.

“More than good.” Val reached out and kissed her, grinning as she felt the other woman grab onto her, clutching her shoulders as she melted into Val’s mouth. She parted her lips for Val’s tongue, huffing breaths out in the gaps as Val tugged her to the bed, pulling the pair of them down as her hands moved quickly to Kate’s sides, intent on pulling her shirt off. Val started when Kate nudged her back, before smiling as she watched Kate quickly kick her jeans off herself, before accepting Val’s help to get her underwear and bra to follow.

Val exhaled softly at the sight of her bare form, ghosting one of her hands over her boobs, barely brushing her fingers over the skin, here other hand resting softly on the mound of pubic hair, fingers pressing at the skin, but not moving any lower.

“Tease.” Kate pouted, pulling her hair out of her pony tail.

“I try.” Val pushed her hand lower as she split the woman’s legs open, searching for her clit. She found it quickly, hooking the lid back and gently tweaking it between her fingers. The woman under her hands groaned, legs falling open, chest rising and falling rapidly, taking Val’s other hand with it as she actually grabbed one of Kate’s boobs, squeezing it gently in tandem with her clit, watching Kate’s mouth fall open and her head tilt back.

“Been a while for you too, huh…” Val mumbled to herself, before shaking her head and intensifying her attention on the woman below her. She shifted back, looking down to watch as she moved her hand from Kate’s clit to her wet cunt, gently rubbing circles around it until she found the right place to press her blunt nails deeper, ever so slightly. She sighed, letting go of Kate’s boob, planting her hand by her head to steady herself as she leant down to kiss her again.

Kate mumbled something about more, deeper, into the kiss, and Val obliged. She pushed her fingers deeper into Kate’s pussy, bracing her arm against her own body, using it for leverage as she pumped her fingers in and out of her. Valeria hovered her face just above Kate’s so she could watch her eyes go wide, and forcing Kate to chase Val’s lips up if she wanted another kiss.

Kate groaned softly, cunt fluttering around Val’s fingers. She groaned louder when Val tilted her hand down so her thumb could hit Kate’s clit, rocking together with the fingers inside her, even as her hand started to ache from being stretched so far. It didn’t last long, though, as the pain was washed away by the blissful moan Kate let out, by the hot pulses of wet cunt around Val’s fingers, and the gentle hands tugging her down for a kiss as Kate pushed herself up, reaching for Valeria’s belt.

“Your turn?” She asked, gazing at Val, gripping her belt tight as her blonde hair fell around her face, blue eyes shining even in the dim light.

“My turn.” Val agreed, shrugging her jacket off, dropping it onto the floor as the woman undid her belt and pulled her trousers down, letting Val get settled on the pillows as Kate crawled between her legs, grasping Val’s thighs to keep them open as she kissed her clit.

Val groaned, tilting her head back as Kate took her clit between her lips, sucking on it as two of her fingers felt down to see how wet Valeria was. Kate’s long tongue flicked against her clit, before it was swapped for her slick coated fingers as the blonde moved her mouth down, dragging her tongue over Val’s hole, too focused on eating pussy to make a comment, saying something about how wet Valeria had got from just making a woman come.

Or, maybe she wouldn’t have said it, regardless. That kind of thing wasn’t everyone’s style. Maybe she didn’t need to say anything, with how good she ate pussy, grinding Val’s clit while alternating her tongue and fingers being inside Val.

Valeria felt her thighs shake, covering her mouth as she groaned, because she didn’t know how thin the walls were here, mumbled swear words slipping off her tongue as she was tugged closer and closer to the edge, as Kate kept rubbing her clit in circles, until Val was saying don’t stop, don’t stop, and she could swear the woman between her legs chuckled, and then she was cumming, her legs shaking as the woman kept slowly rubbing her clit, wiping her mouth on Val’s thigh as she sat up, reaching up to kiss her again, before stopping as they heard shouting coming from outside the house.

“My friends are back…” Kate sighed, letting go of Valeria and rolling over onto her back.

Val leapt up, grabbing her trousers and wriggling back into them.

“You won’t stay?” Kate sat up on the bed, watching her.

Val shook her head as she pulled on her jacket. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. See yourself out?”

Val nodded. “S’fine.”

“It was nice meeting you, Maria.” The woman waved as Val passed through the door.

“Sure.” Valeria waved back and hurried back down the stairs, kicking her shoes on in the front room before letting herself out and hurrying away from the house. She tried to slow her pace, her quick exit meaning she was still buzzing from her high, which slowly faded the more she walked, until her pace picked up again as she found herself desperately eager to be away from that house. Away from the fantasy of whatever this was.

Fuck, she had needed this. Yet, she was still glad she hadn’t given the woman her real name. She’d kept that last thing that could tempt a genuine connection to herself, freeing her to do what was best for her, and forget all about this night. Valeria was going onwards and upwards to better places. Better things, better people. She was more. The more, the better, the respected. The feared. She wasn’t going to get distracted now. Las Almas was her city, and she was going to make sure people knew that. No matter what she had to do for it.

Back in her present, Valeria opened her eyes, calmly glaring at the closed door. The fact that a Kate, and American Kate had appeared, now after all these years, when Valeria finally had finally made it to those better places, was a coincidence. It had to be.

And if it wasn’t, Valeria had the power to make it be one. That was the good thing about being in charge of things. The world was yours to shape as you saw fit, and inconveniences, like faded, old memories, could be dealt with. She knew that now. First, she just had to get out of here.

[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Day 6 - Alfie Solomons

Alfie Solomons x male!reader

Prompt: Hostile environment/"I don't know how anyone could survive that."

Trigger warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries, death, the brutal conditions of ww1, rats, swearing,

Summary: A poorly planned attack leaves you stuck in no man's land. Even if you make it back to the so called "safety" of the English trenches, nothing will ever be the same.

With every passing moment, the cold of the mud was seeping further into your bones. The frigid water the filled one side of the fox hole was already beginning to soak your legs.

German bullets still whizzed over head, picking off the rest of your squad as they scrambled for cover, and the safety of the trenches they would never reach.

Beside you Miller's shaky, gasping breaths were coming quicker and quicker. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to ignore his hands pawing at you, begging for help you couldn't give.

"Please- ple- pl-"

His last shuddering breath gave out, and he was still beside you. You kept your eyes screwed shut, struggling to force your lungs to work again.

For a moment, the bombardment stopped and you peeled your eyes open long enough to catch a glimpse of the ash gray and smoke filled sky.

Once, there had been blue skies here. Blue skies, and green fields, eaten up and spit out by the war machine. Eaten up and spit out, just like you and the other men scattered across the smoldering, toxic land that laid between the two trenches.

Had any of your squad made it back? You had barely started to move, in an attempt to peer over the top of your hiding spot, when the return fire began, leaving you trapped, pinned down by your own men.

As afternoon turned to late evening, the bullets whizzing overhead remained constant. Somewhere, a few yards from your fox hole, you could hear something un human letting out grunts of pain. You tried not to think of what injured beast, or dying man was laying there, and why no one would put it out of its misery.

You couldn't stop yourself from shivering now, even huddled close to Miller, and your breathe hung above you, in great white clouds. Your feet and ankles had long since gone numb in your soaked boots.

As night fell, you knew that there was no chances of anyone coming for you. Even if any members of your squad had made it back, how could they report you alive? When they'd last seen you, you'd been being dragged head first into a shell crater by a wounded Miller flailing for balance.

Something small and dark skittered over your leg, and it took all your strength to keep your stomach from heaving as you heard small, sharp teeth beginning to tear at the wound in Miller's side.

You couldn't stay here.

~~~

Half a mile away, in the so called safety of the officers quarters, Alfie found himself staring down at the report he'd never wanted to make. He'd known the attack was a bad idea.

Well. He'd had a bad feeling about it anyway. Of course the intel had turned out to be bad. Of course he'd gone and lost the only thing he had to lose in this whole damn thing.

He'd gone and lost you.

The report in front of him now was detailing the extent of that loss. The list of names he was jotting down was long, and mostly uncomfired, but the worst was the last name on the list, which he couldn't bring himself to copy onto the official report.

Your name sat there, staring up at him in smudged graphite. Taunting him, and all the decisions he'd made that had brought the two of you here. All the times where he'd had the opportunity to send you home and out of harms way that he didn't take.

A knock on the door frame pulled his attention away to find Peterson standing in the doorway, "Captain?"

He let out a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face, "What is it?"

"Duggan's spotted something. Coming this way."

Alfie groaned, starting to stand up, "'f it's more fuckin krauts wha-"

"No krauts, Cap- 'e says it looks like someone's crawling through no mans land."

That had Alfie on his feet, and moving away from the makeshift desk, "One of ours?"

"That's what we're trying to find out Captain."

Alfie motioned for him to lead the way, following the private through the narrow passage of the quarter and out into the main trench. Duggan's position was in the outer defense line, and it took a few tense seconds to reach the sniper.

"There you are- I finally got a clean shot on the bastard," Duggan scoffed as they came around the corner toward him, "And guess what I see?"

"What?" Alfie asked gruffly.

The sniper gave him a half assed salute, "It's one of ours. One of those poor fuckers what got sent up the middle."

Alfie motioned for Duggan to move, taking his place on the perch and grabbing for his binoculars.

"Really?" Peterson was asking, "Thought that most of them boys got shot up."

"Yeah. Shot to god damn pieces. I mean split down the middle by fire, caught between a rock and a hard place, with that mess to get back through?"

The words grated against Alfie as he searched the field, allowing himself to hope against hope. When he caught sight of low movement, he could make out no more than the edge of a helmet, and dark mud stained khaki.

"I don't know how anyone could survive that." Duggan was saying.

"How far out do you reckon he is?" Alfie asked abruptly.

Duggan shrugged, "Couple hundred yards, maybe. Problem is the second we go over the top for 'im the German's 'ill have eyes on us."

Alfie frowned, considering the possibilities.

"You're not seriously thinking....?" Peterson hazarded.

Duggan gaped at him, "Captain with all due respect-"

"I never said we were doing anything," Alfie snapped, "You're right, there's no way to get to him. Keep me posted."

The wait was agony. Alfie paced back and forth along the narrow passages of the officer's quarters, a hand worrying through his beard.

It seemed like an eternity later, when he stepped out into the main trench again, unable to wait any longer when he heard a yell in this distance.

"Christ it's (y/l/n)! Get the Captain!"

He was already halfway out to the outer line by the time Duggan was crashing into him, stammering your name, and all but dragging him to come.

"How is 'e?" Alfie demanded as they lumbered along.

"Not a more than a fucking scratch on 'im!" Duggan laughed bitterly, "The lucky fuckin basatard."

The relief of making it back to the trench was so immense it almost beat out the feeling of Miller's phantom hands grabbing at your arm, his choked voice in your ears. Almost.

You'd barley been hauled to your feet by an astounded Peterson when Alfie was shoving his way into the circle of men crowding you, the relief barley hidden on his face.

You looked at each other for a long moment, a thousand words passing between you without either of you needed to open your mouths.

Alfie threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you away from the crowd, "Let's get you cleaned up, matey, eh?"

You leaned into his touch, silently praying that no one around you would notice, or think it anything but a friendly touch between friends who had nearly lost each other.

[bridgyrose]

“We should get going before it gets dark.” 

Ruby opened her eyes to see Ashe staring down at her. She got up and stretched, her back a little stiff as she moved around. “Didnt realize it was that late already.” 

“I would’ve gotten you up earlier, but you seemed more relaxed than I’ve seen you,” Ashe said with a smile. Her smile faded as she watched the sun set. “Though if we dont hurry, we’ll be stuck here til morning when the ferry leaves.” 

“Would that be a bad thing?” 

“No, but I’d rather not stay the night here.” Ashe sighed and looked back at the gravestones. “It may be my duty to keep this place safe, but I still have a life to live.” 

Ruby nodded and continued to follow, looking up at the sky as she saw the first few stars start to peek out. A smile crossed her lips as she remembered how she and Yang used to stay up until they could see all the stars and look for each of the constellations dad used to tell stories about. But as she watched the night sky, she paused as she caught a glimpse of a green streak. As the streak came closer, she felt her heart race and she took a step back. 

She watched as Penny came into view and landed in front of her. Her breath hitched as she watched Penny pull the hood of her own cloak down. She had wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, but kept her distance as she remembered the words of their last meeting. “P-Penny…” 

Penny took a deep breath as her own eyes glowed with green fire, moving the blades she carried on her hips. “I am sorry, Ruby.” 

The small smile that was trying to show on Ruby’s lips faded as she watched Penny swing her blades at her. She moved her arms in front of her to block the strike as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the hit. The sound of emerald striking obsidian permeated the air as she slowly opened her eyes 

“Get to the ferry!” Ashe yelled out. “I’ll keep her busy.” 

Ruby tried to run to the ferry, certain Ashe could handle Penny on her own, though her body didnt seem to obey her. She stood frozen as she watched Penny and Ashe fight, eyes glued to them as her heart pounded in her chest and her breathing became shallow. As she closed her eyes and reopened them, all she could see was Penny and Cinder fighting again, but this time she was an onlooker that couldnt do anything to help. Even as her hand moved to where her scythe normally sat, she couldnt do much more.

Ashe pulled back and tossed a blade to Ruby. “Ruby, go!” 

Ruby snapped out of it as she heard Ashe’s voice and caught the blade that was tossed to her. The obsidian hilt felt foreign to her fingers as she gripped with a shaky hand, unable to calm herself as she watched the two continue to fight. Her heart had desperately wanted to help out Penny, but Ashe was the one who had helped her. And all she could do was watch as Ashe was pushed back and took a few hits from the blades, her aura starting to shimmer as it came closer to breaking. 

“I thought you were supposed to be a great warrior!” Ashe called out between breaths, struggling to keep up. “Or was that all just a story?” 

“I-I… I cant…” Ruby slowly lowered her blade. “All I did was lead people to their deaths. I shouldnt be here.” 

“That is enough!” Penny yelled as she pushed Ashe back. Her focus went back to Ruby as she took a few breaths with each step. Her eyes burned with murderous intent as she rushed towards Ruby, blades at the ready. Then, as she readied her blades to strike, she dropped to her knees and a hand went to her forehead. “N-no… not… not now…” 

Ruby dropped her own blade  as her legs shook. She took a step closer to Penny to try to help until she heard a familiar *screech* in the air from behind her. She quickly used her semblance to move herself and Ashe out of the way of giant feathers that struck the ground, her heart starting to calm once she saw the grimm. 

“They… they were supposed to be gone… sealed…” Ashe said quietly as her gaze stayed focused on the grimm. “Why are they here now?!” 

“I can handle them!” Ruby called out as she quickly picked up her blade again and started to rush towards the nearest of the nervermores. “I can keep them from getting to the ferry-”

“We dont have time!” 

Ruby felt Ashe grab her arm again and start to pull her away as the ground started to rumble under them, the land shifting until a pool of grimm started to unearth. Her calmed heart started to pound in her chest once more as she watched various grimm start to climb out, her body freezing again as she watched the grimm start to circle around Penny. 

But that didnt matter. What mattered was that Penny needed to be protected. Her eyes started to shine with silver light as she focused on protecting Penny… until a green bolt came at her and Ashe had to move in the air. The light in her eyes died down as she blinked a few times until her vision could focus again. And there she saw Penny, one hand clutching her head while the other was pointed in the air, a green fire still in her eyes while her fingertips seemed to spark with magic. All while the grimm circled around Penny, ready to protect her and obey any order she’d give. Ruby finally sighed and looked away. “Penny,” she said quietly, the name almost tasting bitter on her tongue. 

“We can deal with her later,” Ashe said as she struggled to keep the two in the air as they neared the ferry. “But Vale needs… to know…” 

Ruby used her semblance to get herself and Ashe on the ground as they started to fall out of the sky, grunting as she pulled out of her semblance and landed with Ashe on top of her just before the dock the ferry was waiting at. She picked herself up and looked out towards the forest of the island, her heart breaking as she thought about Penny. She slowly picked Ashe up and started to head to the ferry, not ready to tell her team what had happened.

[daboyau]

I know that 90% of the people following me are here for turtle content, but I just updated a bnha fic I’ve been writing for six years, so I’m making a post about it. :) The chapter can be found on ao3 here!

There are blood stains on the floor of the bathroom. It started as only one, but they keep increasing the longer he spends locked away in there. Every time Chizome comes home, he lets him out, and they train and they train and they train until Izuku can’t stand anymore. Sharp rocks hidden in the grass cut the bare soles of his feet and the weapons he wields make his hands bleed after so long spent clutching and swinging and throwing and missing and trying again and again until he perfects it. Before he goes back to town, Chizome opens a fresh wound on his arm or his leg, fills his flask, and then leaves Izuku to rot again. It feels like he’s always bleeding these days. 

Izuku has spent so much time staring at the bloodstains. They won’t come out, no matter how hard he scrubs at them, but Nikko likes to curl up beside him while he’s cleaning so he keeps trying anyway. He feels dizzy now, staring at the one a few centimeters from his nose as he lays crumpled on the floor, trying to remind his lungs and his throat to keep breathing as he waits for Chizome’s quirk to wear off. 

He only really uses it now when he’s coming back or leaving. It’s as good a gauge as any to know when Chizome is on his way to the cabin, Izuku supposes. A bright side, if he’s really determined to find one. 

The door bursts open at almost the same time that Izuku’s muscles release from their painful freeze. He gasps for breath and curls into a ball, shuddering as his body fights to regain control of its motor functions. He’d bitten his lip when he’d collapsed. The taste of blood fills his mouth and he swallows a few times, not yet strong enough to stand and spit it into the sink. 

“Get up,” Chizome says, and though his voice is rough and tinged with something that scares Izuku, his hands are gentle as he grabs him and hoists him to his feet. “Gather your things and start cleaning. We’re leaving. Tonight.”

Izuku fights to focus his dry eyes, and Chizome’s face finally comes into view. His eyes are burning, the red irises almost glowing from within the sunken hollows of his sockets. Izuku swallows hard, heart hammering away inside his chest as Chizome stares at him with a frightening intensity. 

“Okay,” Izuku rasps once he realizes that Chizome is waiting for a response. “What happened?”

Chizome releases him and steps back, running a hand through his hair and heaving a sigh. He’s jittery. His eyes sweep the cabin restlessly, pupils shrunk to pinpricks, tongue darting out again and again to wet his lips. Izuku’s heart is beating so fast it’s making him feel a little dizzy. 

“Someone’s on to us,” he says at last. Izuku bristles at how vague he’s being, but at least the panic in Chizome’s eyes makes more sense now. “They’ve been trying to follow me back here. I thought they’d give up after a while, but the bastard’s persistent. It’s only a matter of time before they succeed.”

“Who?” Izuku demands, trying to keep his tone firm and confident despite the way the word breaks on its way out of his dry throat. Chizome doesn’t answer, having already turned away to begin gathering anything within easy reach. 

Izuku watches him silently. Exhaustion drags at his limbs, making each bone feel like it weighs a few hundred pounds. He wants to sleep in a bed. He wishes he could remember what kind of sheets his mama used to put on his bed when he was little. He wishes his All Might quilt hadn’t gone up in flames when Chizome had burned their old apartment to ashes. 

“I’m going to sleep in the car,” he warns as he walks past Chizome to the kitchen. His legs feel a little shaky, but he does his best to push through it. Chizome’s head turns to follow him, his gaze feeling like needles boring into his skin, but Izuku pretends not to notice. “I don’t want to be all tied up this time. I’ll hide under the blanket if you want me to, but I want to be comfy so I can take a nap.”

“Okay,” Chizome says easily. Izuku breathes a silent sigh of relief as he kneels to search beneath the sink, pulling out every cleaning tool, rubber glove, and spare sponge tucked away beneath it. Nikko sticks her head into the cabinet, nose twitching curiously and ears partially pinned back. Izuku shoos her away.

“We’re out of bleach,” he announces, trying to ignore the prickling along his spine that tells him that Chizome is still watching him like a hawk after a bunny. His body is aching and he feels the muscles in his legs trembling as he rises from his crouch. He hopes it isn’t too obvious; Chizome’s been so unpredictable, and the last thing he needs is for him to decide that it’s a sign of weakness that needs to be trained out of him right this moment. Or worse, think that Izuku is scared of being found and start babying him. That would probably just mean whoever’s coming after them winds up dead and Izuku gets put back in solitary confinement with nothing to do. “I can just use a rag and dish soap, I guess.” 

Chizome sighs, long and deep and controlled, like he does when Izuku has said some fundamentally wrong but ultimately inconsequential thing. The rag he’s holding is wrung between trembling hands, tighter and tighter until the scrape of rough material against his blisters and scabs becomes too much. The blue of the rag is stained with dark streaks of blood now, and Izuku worries at his lower lip and hopes that Chizome won’t notice. It’s no big deal. They’ve got plenty of rags. It’s fine. 

He tucks the soiled rag behind his back, out of sight. 

“We probably don’t have enough hydrogen peroxide to clean the mess in the bathroom, right?” Chizome asks, eyes squeezing shut, mouth going terse with what Izuku can guess is an oncoming headache. He seems fractured today, like the stress of the situation is too much for him to think straight around. Izuku’s stomach hurts. 

“No. We ran out last week. No bleach, baking soda, or lemon juice either.”

“Right. Okay. Unless we want to burn this place down, I guess I’d better go to the store.” 

“I think burning it down would just draw more attention,” Izuku mumbles, trying not to let how much he wants to roll his eyes be too apparent in his tone. Or how much the mere suggestion makes him sick. 

“Yeah, kid. You’re right.” Chizome’s voice is soft, and as he passes behind Izuku the hand that ruffles his hair is gentle. It takes everything he has not to flinch away from the touch. 

.

Tatsui is not a patient man, which means that the last three weeks of staking this asshole’s apartment out have been just short of torturous. He was boring in his predictability, and extremely frustrating in how he always managed to lose Tatsui’s company-issued vehicle during his days off of work. It’s an unmarked model. Nothing fancy, but maybe a bit better maintained than most vehicles seen around town. It’s nothing that should draw any attention, which of course makes it even more suspicious that Yamada’s managed to lose him every time. That was what had finally clued him in to the fact that the asshole definitely knew he was being followed at this point, and recognized the car. 

Luckily he has a friend who had agreed to loan him his old piece of shit car in exchange for borrowing his nicer company vehicle. Tatsui’s ass will be on the line if his boss ever finds out, but it was worth it, because he’s finally gotten close enough to find where his suspect’s hideout is. 

He grins as he watches the familiar car turn onto a small dirt driveway tucked away in the countryside a few kilometers outside town, the entrance almost hidden by overgrowth. Tatsui passes by and parks on the side of the road a ways ahead, waiting fifteen minutes before turning back around to find the driveway again. He follows it until he finds the small, piece of shit cabin tucked into a clearing at the end of the drive. Yamada’s equally shitty car is parked close by. 

Tatsui grins to himself as he pulls his car off the dirt drive and into the surrounding trees, hidden away from any wandering eyes but still able to keep the front door and the car in view. From there, it’s only a matter of time. Once that asshole leaves again for his next shift, he’ll be free to search the hideout for any evidence he might need to make his case against him. 

As it turns out, though, he doesn’t have to wait very long at all. Tatsui curses under his breath and slinks further down into his seat as the slam of the front door echoes through the trees. He can feel his blood pounding in his head, and his heart racing as he considers how much could go wrong if he’s caught. If his theory is wrong and he’s caught spying on a civilian, his job will be on the line. On the other hand, if he’s right about this guy being the villain who took down Ingenium, it will mean a fight. If he’s spotted now, he’s screwed either way.

He watches Yamada as he strides to his car. In the perceived privacy of the forest, the man moves like a predator: graceful, strong, and confident. It’s strange to see him in an environment where he doesn’t know he’s being observed. He seems like a completely different person than the quiet, fumbling idiot that he presents himself as in town. The difference only further cements in Tatsui’s mind that he’s onto something big. 

Yamada pauses for only one brief moment as he gets to the car. His eyes sweep the treeline, and Tatsui holds his breath, waiting for the man to see him and come storming over. The thought of him pulling a cell phone to report Tatsui to the police or his superior is almost more frightening than the threat of him pulling a knife. At least with a weapon, Tatsui’s suspicions would have merit and his quirk would be useful. 

In the end, he’s able to relax a little bit as his douchebag suspect climbs into his car and drives away. What he could have on his agenda so soon after getting to his hideout, Tatsui has no idea. He doesn’t care, either. He’s found the cabin, and its occupant is gone; he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. This is his chance to search the house for evidence, and he refuses to squander it. 

[lovebombs4life]

you don’t go to parties - l.r.h

first post ever oh em gee.

cw:swearing, alcohol, angst, jealousy

————

the smell of sweat and alcohol took over your senses. you hadn’t been to a party since the break up. of course you were still friends with the band, you loved them like your brothers. but god it was hard to see them and not think about luke.

it had been five months since the break up. the relationship that you spent the last five years of your life on. and it all ended from jealousy. you and luke had been at a party and you were grabbing drinks when another guy started talking to you. you didn’t think anything of it. he was just being nice. but luke had been watching you from across the room. he got overwhelmed with jealousy and anger.

when you had come back to him, he was cold to you. you never understood why until you both went home that night. the argument had started. it still breaks your heart to think about it. he refused to listen to you. you had gave all your energy to try and save the relationship. from what you saw in the coming months, he was moving on. you stayed right there frozen in time.

now you stand in michael’s home, crowded with people, booming with music. michael had called you asking if you’d come. the boys missed your company. you had agreed, only because you too had missed them. you knew the risk of going. you knew luke would be there. you prepared yourself for the night ahead.

“you made it!” ashton yelled once he had spotted you. you smiled softly. “i’ve missed my best friends. how’s everyone doing?” you asked. ash looked to the side and bit his lip.

“they’re all good. y’know… i’m not supposed to say anything but,” he looked around before continuing. you tilted your head to the side, questioning what he was talking about.

“he knows he fucked up, y/n. the day after it all happened he went to the studio and couldn’t even function. he told us he fucked it all up because he was jealous. he’s been drinking more, becoming reckless because he needs you back. we’ve all told him to talk to you but he’s afraid you won’t listen..” ashton spoke.

you took a deep breath. with shaky hands you gave ashton a hug. you let a few tears fall out. “i don’t know what to do, ash. i mean, fuck, i put so much effort into trying to talk to him and trying to understand why it became what it was.”

“i know y/n, i know. y’know what, let’s forget about it, okay? let’s go get a drink, yeah?” he spoke. you nodded your head. you followed ash as he brought you to the drink table.

as you walked through the house, mutual friends of yours waved to you and smiled. you smiled back, happy to see them all. michael and calum had found you and ashton talking, and celebrated seeing you again. you gave them both hugs. you were so relieved to see them. but you were still terrified to see luke. you had yet to see him.

“is luke even here?” you questioned michael. he shook his head. “not yet. and hey uhm, he doesn’t know that you’re uh, that you’re here…” he trailed off.

your eyes widened. “you didn’t tell him?!” you raised your voice. they hushed you as to not draw attention to yourself. “you guys need to see each other again. he’s been getting wasted every time we have a party, or even a small get together. he needs you, y/n.” calum spoke.

your heart started racing faster than it already was. you swore that everyone could hear your heavy breathing. you we’re beginning to panic. michael noticed you fanning yourself with your hands. “let’s go outside and get some fresh air.” he said. you nodded and walked out the front door. he held onto your shoulders, hiding you out into the porch.

“hey mikey! who’s tha-” a voice spoke. he cut himself off once he saw you. you held your breath knowing who it was. you sat down on the bench outside and held your legs up to your chest, hugging them. you put your face down to let silent tears fall out.

michael had pulled luke to the side. he could see luke’s heart physically drop to his stomach when he saw you.

“what- what is she doing here?” luke stuttered. michael sighed. “i invited her. mate, you know it’s time to talk with her.” he put his hand on luke’s shoulder. luke nodded and slowly walked towards you.

he sat down on the bench next to you, leaving space between you. he took in a shaky breath before speaking to you. “how are you, y/n/n?” he softly spoke.

you lifted your head up to look at him. you’d swallowed hard before looking straight ahead of you. the glow of the moon and the dim lights in the house were your only lighting, which wasn’t very bright. “i’m uhm, i’m okay.” you breathed.

you saw him nod his head from the corner of your eye. he leaned his head back and shit his eyes. “i didn’t think you’d be here. you don’t really go to parties anymore now, do you?” he spoke.

you shook your head softly. “no.” you quietly said. he began to bounce his leg, a nervous habit he had picked up from you. you did as he did, and leaned your head back and closed your eyes.

you felt a soft touch on your hand. your heart skipped a beat. your eyes opened and you turned your head to see he was already looking at you.

“i’m still in love with you, y’know.” he said. you nodded your head, tears pricking your eyes. “i’m sorry.” he spoke again. you squeezed your eyes shut and let the tears fall down. you lifted your hand to wipe them away.

“i know, lu.” you said. “but you just left me. you didn’t even listen to me. you didn’t take a second to stop and think about the fact that it was just a friendly conversation. now here we are, almost six months later, broken up, and seeing each other for the first time since.”

“and for fucks sake we’re outside of michael’s house. everyone we know is inside the house right now.” you continued. you saw tears fall down his cheeks. your heart was already shattered, but seeing him like this tore it up even more, as if someone was smashing it with a hammer.

he began to move his hand away from yours but you grabbed on. “i’m still in love with you too.” you said, staring straight forward, grasping onto his hand.

he sighed with relief. you moved closer to him on the bench, leaning your head on his shoulder. he put his head on yours.

“i still need you. more than anything in the world.” he spoke, kissing the top of your head. maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but your mind started to feel fuzzy. just like when you first started dating him. you lifted your head to look into his eyes.

“i love you.”

“i love you more.”

[follows-the-bees]

Dean's grief couldn't be contained, as he looked down at the face of the angel, his angel, he sank down to his knees, feeling the full weight of the loss. His protector, best friend, the love of his life, even if he won't ever tell him that last one. Won't have the chance now.

He places his hand over the wound, the speck of blood where the angel blade he wields everyday in battle has betrayed him.

He presses against the fabric of Cas' shirt, his rough callused hands getting caught. Dean looks up as if to pray, pray for the power to heal. But it's useless, the only person he prays to is Cas, and he doesn't think he can hear him anymore.

Through the wet tears welling and spilling down his face, he sees darkness behind him feels and the ruffle of sand moving in the nighttime wind. His eyes are drawn to that darkness and he sees the black outline of Cas' burnt wings. All hope that he will get Cas back fades. Angels don't come back from this.

He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips against Cas' forehead before willing his arms to cradle Cas' body and pull him against him. It feels weird, all of his limbs are shaky, his legs are numb, asleep from who knows how long kneeling at his angel's body.

Cas looks so pale on the table. The life drained out of him, correction, the light burned out of his vessel, which has been Cas' body for years now. The literal light in Dean's life faded, but only the darkness of the night invaded those once bright spaces.

He works on autopilot, wrapping the body and building the pyre.

"Are you ready to go?"

He feels a hand on his shoulder, but it doesn't feel right, that's where Cas' hand belongs. Where it's seared into his skin forever. He turns to see his brother there, brows creased in concern, puppy dog eyes full of their own tears. He looks around and sees he's still standing by the now-burnt pyre. How long has he been here?

He's lost time again. Just like when Sam went to Stanford and dad left him for his own hunts. The words echo through his mind: Everybody leaves you, Dean.

Dean clears his throat, willing his voice to work, and hands the keys of Baby over to Sam. "Yeah, why don't you get the car started?" His voice comes out horse, like he's been screaming, or dying of thirst.

The hand squeezes his shoulder before letting go and he feels Sam leave.

Dean turns and sees the spot in the beach where Cas died, the dark pool of dried blood and the shadowed expanse of wings. It isn't right, he's seen Cas' wings before, when they were in full glory, large, looming, showing the power of Cas. And he's seen them broken and burnt, the result of someone betraying Cas and tricking him to fall. But that was bound to happen right? After Cas fell for him, would this have happened any other way? He caused Cas' broken wings, the burned wings in the sand now.

Dean can't leave them, but they are the only thing left. Just more ash.

He goes back inside the house. A house that Cas found and was going to raise the child in, his brain supplies him with.

Rummaging through the cabinets, Dean finds both a small and large jar. He finds a shovel on the side of the house and goes to the funeral pyre.

Sam is already there, clearly either not going to Baby or coming back to look for Dean. He reaches out and takes the jar and shovel from Dean, who grunts in reply as Sam starts to fill the jar. He will thank him later when he is able to speak again.

Instead, he trudges back to the spot and kneels down collecting some of the charred sand into the tiny jar. The last remnants of his fallen angel. He tucks that into his jacket pocket. That is just for him.

He can't let others see the wings. They aren't for them. They aren't for anyone.

He kicks the sand, harder and harder, tears starting to fall again. His toes tingle through his boots as he takes out all his grief in the action. He is good at this, at destroying. He gets rid of the physical evidence of Cas' death, but he can't rid the ache in his chest.

When all evidence of Cas' demise is gone, he wipes his eyes. He won't let Sammy see he's been crying again.

Walking to Baby, Sam is leaning against the door, holding the jar against his chest, his head bowed. He walks up and hugs Sam. Cas was his friend too.

Sam nods curtly and climbs into the passenger seat. Dean takes his angel's ashes, buckling it into the backseat. In Cas' seat. Steeling himself, he climbs into his familiar seat, in his home. Their home.

Turning the engine, he avoided looking into the rearview mirror. There's no use. Those warm blue eyes and soft smile won't greet him.

He dips one hand in his pocket and holds onto the jar containing the ashy sand.

The last semblance of his angel