#deep down he wants to be the hero everyone keeps saying he is. he wants to make up for it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hadesrise · 7 days ago

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## one true love !!

summary──── ben feels true love with you, his enemy, and finds himself able to break from the toxic masculinity he surrounded himself with.

pairings──── soldier boy / benjamin x anti-hero!male reader

warnings──── nsfw content, porn with too much feelings, fluff, slight angst, foul language, probably (very definitely) ooc soldier boy, top!reader, sub!bottom!ben, gentle love, praise kink, hair pulling, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, vibrator, pet names ( love, baby, pup, etc. ), short oral ( r. receiving ), love-making, mating press, missionary, riding, aftercare, light D/S dynamics, pillow talk, a lot of vulnerability, ben proposes to reader unexpectedly, enemies in forbidden love, internalised homophobia, morally grey!reader, possessiveness, homophobic slurs, canon typical misogyny, reader’s anti-hero name is lucifer, reader has magical powers

author’s note──── i might’ve made him too soft and vulnerable, so forewarning that he doesn’t show much of his asshole side in this fic. the ooc warning already says much, i guess?

MINORS DNI !!

Peaceful jazz music and well dressed crowd fills the grand hall decorated in gold curtains, men and women from different wealthy families flaunting around their riches with drinks in hand. Adorned in nothing but expensive attires that feeds off of the poor were most guests that have been invited to celebrate another success of Vought-American with a superhero movie that starred its own team, Payback, while the heroes themselves remained in their pretty little costumes for the publicity and fame.

Cameras, photographers, and journalists lurked in the corner section of the hall, where they’ve been assigned to fulfil their destiny of capturing significant moments that are interesting enough to be written on headlines or shown on television.

Nights like this were when Soldier Boy wanted to beat the shit out of Vought employees for their incapability in making celebrations entertaining. The lack of excitement and chaos infuse Ben with excessive boredom that just gives him the urge to shoot himself in the head, all of its professionalism becoming nothing but a burden and straight up pain in the ass. He’s been hardly enjoying the night, having to put up with Crimson Countess attached to his hip at all times to keep appearances, which he admits is worse than fucking a loose cunt. It didn’t make him feel better that Stan fucking Edgar was watching, making sure things are under control.

The jazz music suddenly stops short with a loud screeching sound that has everyone covering their ears in pain, startled murmurs filling the air as all eyes turned to the stage where a famous band stood, confusion also plastered across their faces. One of them repeatedly presses down on the piano’s key, frowning when it does nothing as if it lost its function all of a sudden. Sensing the panic slowly rise among guests, Stan opens his mouth to speak, only for his words to die in his throat when the lights begin to flicker.

“You know, I’m quite displeased to not have received an invitation.” Deep, resonant, husky voice littered with confidence and cockiness erupt out of nowhere as the flickering lights return to normal, an utterly familiar figure making themselves known.

Gasps, of either excitement or fear, falls from everyone’s lips to your powerful presence that almost immediately caused a shift in atmosphere. Soldier Boy’s breath hitched, feeling his throat dry as he cleared his throat and swallowed.

You don’t miss the quick look of surprise and panic flashing across Stan’s face before they were hidden behind his casual mask of greedy businessman, making the corner of your lips twitch up.

“You’re simply not welcome here, Lucifer.” The man uttered with barely contained irritation despite his best efforts to remain calm, spitting your antihero name — given by, not Vought, but the public themselves — in distaste.

Amusement emerge on your expression, completely unbothered by the antagonistic perspective Stan sees you with.

There’s an underlying overconfidence and arrogance to the way you hold yourself, a man who clearly knows how influential and threatening your own existence is and isn’t even apologetic for it. It wasn’t just for a show — you knew you mattered, knew exactly your worth, and didn’t hide behind the fake persona of a beloved public figure that pretends they’re enjoying a single bit of what they’re doing. Your ego and pride seemingly rivals that of Soldier Boy’s yet yours come more naturally, like you were born with it without the need to develop them in amidst of your life to trick yourself into feeling more relevant. You held charisma, a charm that seems to pull people closer to you despite the dangerous, deceitful, fucking jackass attitude you had that’s supposed to be driving them away. It makes Ben want to either punch your face or suck your cock like a fag whore.

“Fair enough,” You shrugged. “But I certainly make parties more fun. You could learn a couple or two from me.”

Stan’s eye twitches in annoyance at your arrogance; it’s much worse that he can’t use anything to stomp on it because your ego wasn’t fragile like the others. While most men, supe or not, wrap their self-importance in toxic masculinity in order to feel superior than they actually are, you were fully comfortable with yourself. Your emotional capacity was extremely high that developed you to become invincible against criticism or rejection. He can attempt to hurt your feelings, manipulate you, use your own ego against you all he wants — none of it will force you to surrender or submit no matter what because you, quite simply, loved yourself too much to be under power hungry maniacs.

When Stan can’t seem to muster a snarky remark, you smirk and invite yourself in, walking further into the grand hall as you snap your fingers, the white bright lights turning into colourful disco lights with your magic.

You stared at the band members on stage, eyes glowing red, and forcefully overtake their minds to play an upbeat party worth music instead of the boring jazz they did. It’s not that you dislike jazz music, it’s peculiar and beautiful on its own, you’re just not really fond of formal parties where everyone’s required to be in their good behaviours, barely having the time of their life if not to shove their riches down less wealthy people’s throat, which you don’t particularly find amusing or fun at all.

It seems to excite the guests, some of them even beginning to bop their heads to the catchy rhythm, moving their previously still bodies along with the beats. Energy surges through them, life revealing itself within their eyes that was filled with misery before you barged in.

“Let go of the fucking formality, ladies and gentlemen.” You grinned wide with your arms spread open to your sides. “It’s time for a true fun party!”

Ben was in awe when all cheered at your declaration, how quick you were able to turn this entire place into your own playground despite the hosts — authorities — being present, how much of a natural you were at gaining people’s faith and attention without doing more than show up and be yourself.

It should be making him envious; he’s doing all these heroism, model, actor bullshit and hiding behind a perfect macho-man façade to be loved and paid attention to for fuck’s sake, and yet it’s so easy for you to bend people at your own will just by being yourself. He should be pissed as he always did when others get the spotlight more than him, but Ben couldn’t find it in himself to.

How the fuck is he going to be pissed when you look so disgustingly hot doing all of it?

“He’s fucking doing it again,” Countess seethes through gritted teeth, glaring at you. Her little tug on his arm snaps him out of daze as he shifts his gaze to her. “Taking all the attention away from you. With the rate he’s going, I wouldn’t be surprised if he interrupts everything you’re in.”

Ben had to pretend to irritably clench his jaw, and smiled with sarcasm. “As if I’d let him. Fucking asshole needs to be put in his place.”

He knew you heard him when the corner of your lips pulled up in a smirk, one of your brows raising to shoot him a challenging look. It sends a thrill down Ben’s spine as he scowled, giving you a death glare that everyone sees for it is; rage, hatred, despise.

“Pleasure to see you here, Soldier Boy. Crimson Countess.” You greet in a feigned enthusiasm, swiftly taking a cocktail from the waiter that just passed, and approach them in all your glory.

“Fuck you,” Soldier Boy quickly snarled as Countess spits, “Get the fuck away from us.”

Amusement instantly cross your face, nearly making both of them want to punch you. “So much for greeting lovebirds in clown costumes,” You dejectedly say with a hand over your chest for dramatic effect, in contrast to the mocking way in which you spoke. “C’mon, I just made this boring, useless party worth your precious little time. At least now you can stop being a pussy hiding behind an awfully constructed television personality.”

That strikes a nerve in Soldier Boy as his face hardened and a cold look appeared, stepping forward warningly, “I’d choose my next fucking words wisely if I were you.” Countess tugs his arm in a nervous manner while scanning their surroundings, taking notice of people watching your interaction.

You meet his glare with a calm yet daring look and leaned closer, “I wouldn’t. I know I can beat you.” Your eyes glowed in red once again as you grinned confidently.

Ben’s hand twitched, but before he could make a move, a woman approached you from behind and tugged on your elbow, interrupting the little rivalry you had going on. “I’m sorry, do you mind if we dance and have fun for a bit?” She shyly but bravely asked you, not even sparing Soldier Boy a glance.

An unimpressed look flashes in your eyes that only Ben took notice of, the subtle annoyance to the woman for cutting into your rather hostile conversation. You, however, plastered on an emotionless smile within a split second, not giving anyone the chance to see through you. “I’ll lead the way,” You barely looked at him before walking off with her to the centre of the hall where bodies swayed to the beat.

It takes everything in Ben not to square up and make a mess of this party when you started dancing with her, your body dangerously close to hers as she stares at you with a look that made him want to strangle her slim neck. As if you’re a divine sculpture created by Gods, like you’re the entire universe, most precious being to ever exist in this planet, like she knew everything about you when she, in fact, absolutely did not. But he does.

And Ben knows he’ll be screaming your name, holding you impossibly close to him, digging his nails onto your back as you grind into him — everything she wished you’ll do to her — when all of this shit show is over.

At the end of the day, no slut or pussy fucker would come home to you but him; you’ve chosen him despite the countless amount of people throwing themselves pathetically at you, and Ben will make sure he’ll forever be the only one who does.

Lewd squelching, sucking sounds fill the dimly lit bedroom of your home as the stench of sex and arousal surround the air, more prominent due to your and Ben’s enhanced senses. You sat comfortably against the headboard of your shared bed with Ben in between your legs as he sucks and slurps your cock, taking it as far as he can in his mouth and gagging. Tiny muffled moans or groans escape him occasionally, hips grinding against the mattress to stimulate his own aching dick while the vibrator you bought for him nestled deep inside his prepped hole.

“You love my fuckin’ cock so much, don’t you?” You chuckled hoarsely, almost degrading, and Ben shudders. “It’s alright, love. m’not goin’ anywhere.” Your fingers tread through his hair, gently scraping your nails against his scalp, making him groan as his hips stutter.

Maintaining eye contact with you, Ben inhales a deep breath through his nose before taking your cock further down his throat, tears gathering in his eyes when he nearly gagged. A genuine smile adorns your face when he looks at you expectantly, the most beautiful green eyes you’d ever seen holding desperation and self-doubt. Pleading expression that he shows only to you.

“You want me to praise you, pup? Call you good boy?” He whines in response — God, that fucking sound you know he’d rather die than let anyone else hear. Ben doesn’t have any idea how much it affects you, the fact that you’re the only one whom he allows a vulnerable side of him show.

Realising he has to earn what he yearns for, Ben gently wraps his hand around the base of your cock where it didn’t fit and starts to bob his head. You moaned softly, throwing your head back; the sight being such a blessing to Ben’s eyes that makes his own cock throb and needy. He swirls his tongue on the underside of your shaft, his free hand gripping your thigh for support.

“Doin’ so good, love. You’ve gotten better at this,” You cooed, petting his hair and gently thrusting up into his throat. Ben closed his eyes, a blissful look appearing on his face as he relaxed and allowed you to move instead.

The trust and faith Ben has in you makes something explode within your chest, heart swelling in love and adoration at your troubled yet adorable partner.

Building a healthy and trustful relationship with him was more difficult than anything you’ve ever done before, considering the absolute bigotry his father forcefully fed into him and all the unresolved issues he had with himself. Despite the tough and harsh exterior he constantly put on, you had seen right through him when you first met — those broken spirit that yearned to be loved or needed by people hiding behind his douche, Soldier Boy persona, a man that his imbecile of a father always wanted him to be. It amused you as much as it squeezed your chest; one of the first strongest superhero being a fucking attention starved bastard was undeniably funny, but pitiful. It’s also why you fell in love with him.

You’ve accepted that Ben was always going to have a deep rooted homophobia in him, that there won’t be a day where you’ll be seen in the public with him holding hands like star-fucking-crossed lovers, that he’ll always be too much of a pussy to be fully himself — but you never expected him to be so open, comfortable, with you like this to the extent of willingly trusting you with a needy and desperate version of himself.

Benjamin is laying his heart out bare for you to take, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to make love to him or fuck his brains out. You decided with the former.

Confusion settles on Ben’s expression when you gently pushed his shoulders to make him pull away, a sudden worry if he’s done something wrong, but all thoughts flies out the window after you passionately smashed your lips against his and guided him on your lap. Ben gasps when you pulled the vibrator out of his hole and replaced it with your thick fingers, hooking his arms on the back of your neck.

“So good, love. Lookin’ all pretty for me.” He moans at your praise, the compliment making his heart flutter rather than boost his ego.

“s’for you…” They come out in whisper from his lips, littered with slight reluctance around the edge, but you hear it loud and clear. “All for you. I— fuck… just for you,” He grinds on your fingers, crying out when you curled them just right to stimulate his prostate.

You almost feel dizzy for his words that he’s never uttered before.

The utmost pride he upholds made it difficult for Ben to completely submit to you, often being a disobedient brat that needs to be put in his place or a quiet, reserved man that’s embarrassed to be loved by another man which causes him to be tense for the first half of this activity — so seeing him like this, hesitantly yet openly letting you in to his comfort zone, spilling the thoughts he’s always been fearful of admitting, holding you tight to him as if you’d slip from his grasp if he let you go, was pleasantly surprising. Your heart flutters, butterflies filling your stomach as the urge to protect and gently take him apart piece by piece runs like electricity through your veins, fuelling your desire for Ben.

You thrust your digits with gentle pace, Ben’s hips moving on its own to chase the pleasure. “That’s right, baby. All f’me, yeah? My pretty darling?”

The gentleness of your whispered voice and your eyes staring at him with pure love sends shivers down his spine; Ben holds your face and nods, pulling you in for a kiss. You can feel his suppressed fear through his desperate lips, the doubts that lingers in his mind that you might see him differently for being so vulnerable like this, and you quickly silence his thoughts by slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

Ben mewled when you add another digit in him, now having three fingers penetrating his hole, as he breaks the kiss to breathe for air. There’s a hazy look in his tearful eyes when he meets your gaze, “Take care of me, please.”

You groan at the plea, immediately pulling your fingers out to instead align your cock with his entrance. Ben must’ve been waiting for so long because he doesn’t hesitate to sink down on it almost in an instant, a loud collective moan escaping the two of you. Your hands gripped his hips while he rested both hands on your shoulders, and fuck he felt so fucking good. The way his warm, tight velvety walls deliciously clamp around you as if swallowing your cock whole, the way his divinely beautiful body perfectly fit against yours like he was made for you.

“fuck… you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” You praised, kissing up his throat as he threw his head back in pleasure. “Completely mine, so is Soldier Boy. Everythin’ about you, Ben. It’s all mine.”

Ben nods vigorously, gripping the back of your neck and starting to ride you at a perfect pace, tiny sounds escaping his mouth. Slipping his fingers through your hair, he gently tugged on them just enough that had you groaning, and laid his forehead to rest against yours. “Y-yours- ah… Yours as… as much as you’re fucking mine,” He grunts out, possessiveness hanging onto his every word that shot excitement through your body. “No one gets to f-fucking have you… oh fuck—!” He cuts himself off with a strangled moan when you snapped your hips up.

“Yeah? Not even that slut that danced with me on the dance floor?” You teased, smirking.

His bright green eyes seem to darken as he sinks even further down on your cock, forcefully stretching himself out, hissing at the delicious pain. You moaned, wrapping an arm around him to pull him to your chest. “Fuck, especially her.” Ben almost growls, one hand coming up to wrap around your throat, feeling you throb and seemingly get bigger inside him due to it. “You… belong to me, o-only me.”

You hum, moaning softly when he squeezed your jugular just right. “Always, my love.”

Relief washes over his entire body as he begins to roll his hips and move again, leaning down to suck and kiss on your exposed collarbone. “Oh fuck… It’s— a-agh…! Tell me- tell me, please…” He whined desperately.

Ben needed to hear you say it, have the promises of you completely belonging to him nailed into his brain so he’ll never feel insecure or doubtful again. He’ll never admit it, but you always know every little thing that goes on inside his head, those haunting words of his father that seems to have a tight grip over him. You’re the only one that could see right through his soul; someone exactly opposite from his father, someone who fearlessly challenges the normality or ancient traditions, someone who actually have their shit together that enabled you to be mature, wise, unapologetically yourself.

You were extraordinary in every way possible, and Ben knew his inner vulnerable — not quite the man his father wanted him to be — self was safe with you. Always secured. Never judged nor ridiculed, instead embraced perfectly by your strong and warm arms that shields him away from the mental, emotional harm.

He knew you would catch him when he falls. You would keep him and his treasured thoughts safe. You weren’t afraid to love him loudly, wholeheartedly, and Ben allows himself to be brave just this once without thinking about his fears.

Trailing one of your hands up his nape, you pull him back to a searing kiss, pouring all the desire and love into it. Ben melted, his hand on your throat loosening as you gently twist your bodies around to lay him down on the bed without pulling out. He whimpers and chases you when you detached your lips from his, which nearly made your heart explode.

“I belong to you, my love.” You whispered, kissing down his neck and chest, thrusting your cock sensually slow inside him. Nothing quite like the animalistic sex you two usually have due to your powers, but it was more right than ever. “My heart, my body, my soul, my spirit. All for you, belong with you.”

Ben feels as if his heart would hammer right out of his ribcage from how rapid it was beating.

Your soothing yet powerful presence all over the place, hovering over him and embracing every bit of the damaged part of himself that he refused to acknowledge. There’s resistance gnawing on his skin, the unhealthy urge to push you away and guard himself again with a thick wall despite being the one who willingly showed vulnerability, but Ben uses all of his ability to shove it down. He wanted to listen to your overwhelmingly romantic and gentle words that he’s been taught men should never utter, he wanted to be held with so much care like he was your most prized possession, he wanted to be actually loved. For once, he wanted to allow himself to not be drowned in the toxicity his father had force-fed him with.

It doesn’t take you a second to notice him relaxing even further underneath your body, practically leaning onto your existence as the pretty noises escaping his mouth seems to gradually get louder, like he stopped holding himself back.

An awe surrounds your expression, genuinely taken aback by him letting everything go, and a soft sigh of pleasure falls from your lips. “That’s it, baby. You make the most prettiest sound. Don’t hold back,” Cooing gently, you adjust your hips and rolled into him, brushing his prostate at a perfect angle.

Ben keened, arching his back. “Fuuuck… oh, please. Deeper.”

You obliged, keeping the same slow and sensual pace but pushing further inside. “You’re made for me, aren’t you? Just as I’m made for you,” You sharply snap your hips once to emphasise, and he cries out. “We’re one, my love. No one can have me, I come home to you and only to you no matter what.”

His breath hitched, the pleasure and your words sending explosions of euphoria into his brain, nodding mindlessly at your promises. “Y-yes, fuck… I’m- I’m yours, too— ah, hng…” Tears spill from his beautiful green eyes as he spread his legs more wide, one hand grabbing your wrist that was propped beside his head to stabilise your body, almost clinging onto you while the other scratched against the mattress. “F-fucking Christ, always- always yours.”

“I know,” You softly acknowledged. “Always mine, no matter how much some part of you can’t accept it. I can see right through you, love. I understand everything about you.”

“I- oh yes! There, fuck!” Ben sobs when you start picking up your pace, hips bucking against you. “Y-you do… God, you a-always fucking do.”

That causes a grin to spread across your lips before you leaned down to devour him again.

Truth be told, Ben was afraid of how much you saw everything he’s been trying to hide all his life. It takes a bit of his soul every-time he learns to be indifferent, more sick and twisted. The innocence in him had died out long ago, but the desperation of a child never vanquished — the pathetic, ruined and heavily deprived of any love someone that he always forced himself to forget or get rid of, was seen entirely by you without much effort. He didn’t need to say anything, you always understood all the hidden insecurity, longing, pain, and fear nested deep in his mind. You also understood why he was the way he was, why he does what he does, who he had to become.

To be loved is to be seen and understood, he guesses.

A love he’s never thought he’ll ever experience from anyone, let alone his supposed enemy. You gave it to him, though. All so willingly, happily, like he was meant for it, like he was always meant for you.

Strangled, loud moan was forced out of him when your hand wrapped around his achingly hard dick, making him feel dizzy from all the overwhelming desire and pleasure. Every bit of love that emits from your touch sends a frying electricity through his veins, fulfilling his inner thirst that was supposed to be unquenchable.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck—!” Ben wails, arching his back and digging his nails on your forearm as your thumb rubbed his sensitive slit and smeared precum all over. “C-close… oh, Christ! Cummin’, cummin’, please—”

“It’s alright, Ben. I got you,” You purred, slamming your hips down on him. “Let go, cum for me.”

As if that’s all the permission he needed, Ben instantly tumbles over the edge with a loud breathy whine as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, sticky loads shooting out from his cock to his stomach. Body spasming and head thrown back, letting his mind-blowing orgasm wave right off of him, still clinging onto you. You gritted your teeth when his hole tightened impossibly around you, feeling yourself throb and ache to release.

Ben — in spite of his cloudy, mushed state of mind as well as hazy and cock-drunk look in his eyes — suddenly wraps both strong legs around your hips to keep you in place, which forces you forward to bury yourself deeper inside him, eliciting a growl of curses from you.

His mouth splits into a dumb, shit-eating grin. “Inside, baby. Fill me up… give me all you got. I need you.” He moves his hips and squeezes down like a fucking expert prostitute, and it’s enough to have you let out a guttural groan as you spilled inside his tight hole.

Ben released a shattered breath, moaning delightfully at your warm cum that taints his insides, his hand that was gripping your forearm moving down to caress his belly where he could feel you finishing.

It makes your breath hitch; the action sparking a deep hidden desire and possessiveness within you that you’ve had shackled for so long in order to not be too greedy.

But Ben, oh your precious Benjamin, pressed down on his perfect belly and whined so brokenly that tugged the strings of your heart, as if he wanted something so unreachable. He attempts to bury his face on the pillow in what you recognised as shame and you quickly hold his face to keep him from hiding from you, subtle concern glimmering in your gentle eyes.

“What’s bothering your mind, love?” You whispered with such carefulness, afraid speaking too loud would break the bubble of sensitivity that surrounded the two of you as you pressed a light kiss on his temple. “You can tell me, Benji. It’s not embarrassing nor shameful.”

Ben’s heart swells at the way you cage him in your protective arms and words, the back of his eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to come out. He doesn’t deserve you; he never did, but you’re so good to him and he doesn’t think he can live without you. No, he knows he can’t live without you.

What would he do without your captivating eyes looking at him with so much passion no one ever gave him before, your gentle voice uttering such carefully crafted words that embraces rather than cut through him, your big and muscular yet warmly protective arms holding him like he was a treasure to behold, your soul healing and rebuilding every damaged bit of his spirit like it was your purpose? What would he do without you?

And fuck, everything would be so much easier if he wasn’t a fucking man. If he wasn’t such a pussy who’s afraid of risking everything.

You gently roll your hips against his, slow and steady, as if to comfort his nerves and overthinking thoughts with a soft pleasure.

Letting out a quiet, breathy sigh, Ben holds your face close and internally fights back against the restraints that wanted to keep him from opening his soul up to you. “We’d be… We’d be so much happier if I wasn’t a fucking man,” His whispered voice breaks at the end.

His heart ached and so did yours, a realisation dwelling on you of how serious Ben actually was with your relationship. It comes off as an unexpected admittance. While you knew he did love you like you love him, you didn’t think it was to this extent of imagining the countless possibilities if either of you was a woman instead, much less he’d think of himself to be the woman. It was odd and so unlike him — true love brings out something within people, you suppose.

Tears glimmered in his green eyes that’s filled by storm of emotions.

Ben hated this, hated you for making him such a crybaby and a pussy, but he’s so in love with you it fucking hurts. He doesn’t know what triggered him to be an annoying, pathetic, insecure loser the moment you held him. God, he’s Soldier Boy for fuck’s sake!

Then, you look at him with so much tenderness like he hung the moon and was the only thing that grounds you down to earth, and Ben realises it’s this.

“You’re such a fucking fool,” You affectionately cursed with a tone barely above whisper before pressing a lingering kiss on his lips. “I wouldn’t have spared you a glance if you weren’t. Women never captivated me, love. Only you.”

Wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face on the crook of your neck, Ben inhales your scent as you gently rock your bodies together. “Love me more,” He almost demands, voice low and trembling.

You smiled, “Of course, Benji.”

Pressing a sweet kiss on his head, you grab the back of his thighs and push them to his muscular chest, Ben’s flexibility despite his well defined physique making it easier for you to fold him. In a swift motion, you slam down on him, beginning to pound away the loud thoughts that made home in his mind. Angelic, high pitched sounds escape Ben’s mouth with each rough thrusts, bordering on pornographic. The blissful look across his face enhance his already ethereal features, and you can’t help but stare intently at him.

“You look so beautiful like this, love. Taking me in so well, letting me cherish you.” You praised, earning a needy whimper from the love of your life. “My Benjamin… my brave soldier.”

At the unexpected pet name, Ben’s body jolts and a choked sob erupted from his throat, suddenly pushed over the edge as he cums undone on his stomach. “F-fuck!”

“G-god, baby…” You groaned, shuddering in pleasure at the way his gummy walls spasms around your girth. “Drivin’ me insane, y’know that? Cummin’ with just my words alone? Shit, wanna fuck you hard and love you at the same time.”

Digging his nails on your back, Ben attached his lips on your collarbone with an intent to leave several possessive marks, making you jut your hips forward. “D-do it, fuck me.” He mumbled breathlessly.

That’s the only permission you needed to let go of your own self-control and just rut into him like an animal, thrusting your cock with more vigour and roughness that forced the headboard to repeatedly bang against the wall. Feeling the way your shaft practically drill into and rearrange his guts that brought immeasurable ecstasy, Ben finds himself finally unable to make out a coherent thought as drools drip down his chin. The two orgasms you milked out of him already left him sensitive enough, his thighs quivering under your grasps.

Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and wet squelches filled the room, accompanied by feral noises of both of your moans and grunts.

It’s nearly incomprehensible how you’re able to quickly switch between loving him and treating him like a slut next, a perfect balance to Ben’s constant yearning for admiration or appreciation and his tendency to always be an inconsolable brat that needs to be put back in his place.

He feels so complete and whole, so loved. And so so fucking dumb for your cock. He could stay like this forever without heavy expectations weighing over his head all the time, just taking you whole and letting you ruin his body, looking all pretty and beautiful for you. Yeah, he can do that. Being pretty and sexy has always been a talent of his, after all. He can even learn to cook for you like a fucking perfect, pretty housewife, maybe you’ll stuff him full of your cum again while at it and tell him to keep them in. Fuck, he can do that too. He wants to do that.

“Oh fuck, Ben…” An almost pornographic, low growl rumbles from your chest when he squeezed down on you, his warm walls fluttering against your girth from the imagination. The coil in your stomach tightens as you twitched inside him, too close to your high.

“I- ah—! Please, pleaseplease—!” He babbles, one hand shifting to press your ass and push you in deeper, syllables slightly slurred from how cockdrunk he was.

Understanding his wordless signal, you increase your pace with an angle that drives your instincts wild, a chill running through your spine from the overwhelming pleasure. Seeing Ben completely fall apart and surrender underneath you gives your ego an infinite boost, the powerful man such a sobbing, wrecked, pretty little mess just because of your cock. Drunk in every little euphoria and precious love you feed him. Oh, how fucking adorable and gorgeous he was.

Before long, Ben feels you throb inside him and pulls you in with what little willpower he had left, clumsily slipping his tongue in your mouth, overwhelming you with different sensations of his body against yours. It’s enough to have you harshly ram your hips down in one swift motion and empty yourself inside him, a loud wail of your name leaving Ben’s lips as he finishes as well. You feel his body tremble violently due to overstimulation, breath stuttering.

“You look so fucked out,” You laugh breathlessly, hips softly grinding to ride out your climax. “Still fuckin’ hot when you’re all dumb n’ mindless.”

Petting his disheveled hair, a soft contented hum leaves Ben as he closed his eyes and nuzzled to your touch. The entire erotic sight of his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, tears staining his cheeks, hazy look across his eyes, and swollen lips sends amusement and satisfaction through your veins — you definitely fucked whatever self-loathing thoughts he’s had out of his head.

Having completely spilled inside him, you moved to pull out only for Ben to groan in protest. “Stay the fuck in,” He grumbled, panting to catch his breath.

“I need to clean us up, love.” You gently say, but kept yourself sheathed inside him as your lips attach to his neck. “Wanna take care of you properly.”

Ben quietly sighs in content, “You already do.” Before he tilts his head to capture you in a passionate kiss. You slowly pull out of him in amidst of the moment, holding his face and reciprocating with equal passion.

He breathes low and heavy when you start to wipe him up with a wet towel you magically conjured up, running it across his body gently as your other hand massaged his sore hip with such tenderness. Your eyes taking in every part of his physique feels much more innocent now compared to before, deep appreciation and subtle awe flashing across your irises the more you stare, which causes his cheeks to tint slightly. You find it adorable how shy or embarrassed he gets whenever you look at him like he’s something born out of the stars in contrast to the overinflated cockiness he displays when others compliment him; it just proves he feels different, more special with you.

You shoot him a gentle smile that makes his brain shut down and his heart jump.

Christ on a cross, just what did you fucking reduce him into?

“Will you marry me?” The words had left his mouth before he could even process.

You froze, eyes wide as you snapped your gaze to him at the same time his own widened in shock. Fuck, did he just say what he thinks he did? After you fucked him ‘til he couldn’t even speak properly? God, his legs feel wobbly after all that delicious pounding of your dick in his tight little—

His distracting thoughts were interrupted by your hands cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. There’s a bit of doubt lingered across your expression, worried that you mistakenly heard him, and Ben’s gaze softened. “Will you marry me?” He repeats quietly this time with genuine emotion, wiping away your worry.

Excitement and happiness seem to explode within you as you beam; “Yes! Fuck, yes, I’ll marry you.” However, your smile slowly deflates and a foreign look of insecurity replaces the joy surrounding you. “Are you… are you sure? You’re not pushing yourself?”

Confusion spreads across his face, “Why would you think I am?”

“It’s just not that easy to break away from all the homophobia, love.” You softly remind him. “You’re still having a hard time accepting it, could barely even call yourself the right term. You’re afraid, and that’s fine. We can continue on like this. You don’t have to marry me because you feel obligated to.”

Ben frowns, his hand pulling you down to the mattress at his side as he props up on his elbow and stares at you incredulously. “You think I wanna fucking marry you just ‘cause I’m guilty about hiding this? Did it ever occur to you that I actually fuckin’ love you?”

You smile to yourself; what a long way it took for him to just be able to admit that. At least he’s letting himself know he can be vulnerable with you now, compared to when he was convinced you’ll despise his inner self — a big fucking pussy, he says — and completely shut himself off in the beginning.

“Hey,” He grabs your chin to make you pay attention. “I know I still don’t do enough to show you, but I do. I really fucking do, baby.”

You look into his captivating green eyes for a second before releasing a deep breath, “I know. Trust me, you don’t have to do enough to show it, I can already tell. And I love you too.”

Ben nods and kisses your lips, lying down beside you. Your hand instinctually attaches to his waist, caressing his soft skin and shooting warmth throughout his body.

He can’t help but stare at your features, the way you look different now from how you looked at the party you crashed earlier. A certain amount of coldness, hostility and displeasure usually lurked your expression in a daily manner — hidden behind the undeniable charisma and obnoxious arrogance — directed at others that told exactly what their worth to you was; nothing. Ben hasn’t seen a day you were even remotely pleased by someone in the long years of knowing you, the people who attempted to get in your good graces often ended up screwing everything up instead and irritating you enough to kill them off.

But with him, you wouldn’t even spare him a cold glance. Your gaze twinkling with a pleasant spark, always warm, always comforting, always proud. God forbid you look at him with hatred like you’re supposed to. So affectionate for a man who’s been named after the Devil by the idiotic public that only sees what you let them see.

It is then had Ben realised; to him, true love is you.

True love is when you embrace a part of him that he deems undesirable, mend his broken soul, and melt the ice of deep rooted trauma surrounding his heart — it is when Soldier Boy doesn’t drive you away from seeing Benjamin, an ordinary boy from South Philadelphia who desperately wanted to make his father proud. You see them as one, as equally significant parts of him.

Good fucking Lord, he was a gigantic imbecile if he didn’t want to marry you, even if the idea still makes him feel quite… odd. Fuck’s sake, he really needs to learn how to deal with this homophobia bullshit, doesn’t he?

Ben licks his lips anxiously, reluctance plastered on his face. “I… I actually got the rings,” He hesitantly admitted.

Your eyes widened. “You did?”

“I- Jesus Christ, of course I did! I know I don’t fucking do shit like that, okay?” He snapped before quietly muttering, “Just wanted you to believe me when I propose.”

“I do,” You don’t miss to give him comfort, grabbing his hand. Ben’s nerves soothes at your touch. “I just thought we still have a long way to go and you need more time to figure yourself out.”

He shakes his head, “Gotta claim you before some fucker decides you’re free for them.”

“Yeah?” You smirked, raising one eyebrow. “Could’ve gone with a collar, y’know. It would get your point straight across. Plus, it’s more visible.” Tapping your neck to emphasise, which made Ben swallow.

Yeah, you’ll look good with a collar in his colour. You can even wear both. That’ll definitely get his point across to anyone that even looks at you. Maybe next time, he decides.

A mischievous smirk spreads across his lips, “That’ll fucking work best. Think I could put a leash on you too?” He teased, letting out a chuckle and sliding his hand up to your neck and hold you there.

“Mhm, fuck yes,” You almost purred from how pleased you were at the idea.

Ben laughs, lightly squeezing your neck in affection before turning around to rummage through the cabinet on the side of your bed, pulling out a velvet box that’s in the shade of his green. You could tell he was enthusiastic and overwhelmed with emotions from the way his hands slightly trembled, though you made no mention of it to avoid bursting his adorable bubble.

His grin was as bright as the sun on a sunny day when the ring perfectly fits around your finger, already snuggling comfortably on your skin and bringing a weight of new purpose in life. You slip the other ring on his as well, feeling the entanglement of your destiny with one another, the red strings of fate on both of your pinky fingers thickening. It’s a sacred oath that ties you to each other forever.

Warmth spreads around your chest at the fact it’s his first time giving you a gift and it’s something so unexpectedly intimate. A silver engagement ring with a ruby in his shade of green and his name engraved on the inner side; practically a part of his soul, settling itself home around your finger. You shift your gaze to the one he wears — the same silver ring but with a dark red ruby instead, your signature colour, and you assume also have your name engraved on the inner side as well.

A big, significant step for a man who’s constantly afraid of what others think about him, and you couldn’t be more prouder.

Lying back down on the bed together, Ben turns his back on you and scoots closer to your chest, making you smile when he grabbed your wrist to pull your arm over his torso. He always loved being hugged by you from behind despite the fact he’ll never admit it out loud; as much as it sounds pathetic and unmanly, he doesn’t argue with himself of how it gives him safety and protection from the harsh judgmental world. Being in your arms always dissipated the cruel words of his father carved in his mind.

You gently pulled him closer to your body and pressed a kiss on his shoulder blade. “Don’t have to rush about coming out, love. It’ll take more than a simple courage to be open about something considered taboo by our society. You’re still dealing with personal issues, we’ll focus on that for now.”

Ben’s heart warms at your consideration, unable to resist the urge to stick to you like a glue as he leans back on your chest. “How the fuck did you do it? This feels like a pain in the fucking ass,” He muttered disdainfully, though there was a hint of willingness in his tone, like he’s willing to make an effort just for you.

You shrugged, “m’not exactly shaped by my childhood trauma, Benji, and I didn’t like my parents that much. Never really gave a fuck about somethin’ that has no benefit to my life whatsoever.”

“Entitled asshole,” He laughs.

“So are you,” You teased, making you both erupt in loud laughter.

I could get used to this, Ben thinks as genuine happiness glows bright in his heart, your love anchoring him and providing a solid land for him to stand on. Dealing with his own problems doesn’t sound so bad when you’re there for him every step of the way. With your protective arms around his body, both Soldier Boy and Benjamin knew their heart will always be safe with you.

For once, Ben believes he can finally learn to create a family of his own.

Until disaster struck and life suddenly decides to not be fair on someone as fucked up as him — ripping his world apart into shreds in the form of coward, betraying bastards known as his fucking teammates.

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 2 months ago

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For the yandere! Justice League x assistant reader, how would they react if they had Deadpool as a friend? Like he randomly shows up. They would try to keep the reader as far away from him as possible, but it's Deadpool. Lol. How would Yandere Justice League feel if the reader liked Deadpool because he's funny and makes the reader laugh even if in a tense situation, randomly just talking about nonsense and/or making funny jabs at some of Justice League members? Not only that, but he would just annoy them for his and the reader's amusement. I can also imagine Wonder Woman or Superman trying to kill/critically injure him but finding out he has a super healing ability. LOL. I can imagine the scene where Deadpool punches Colossus, but his hand breaks, then he tries again while saying, "Cock shot!" but his other hand breaks. Instead, he does it to Superman and says, "Oh, your poor Lois Lane!" I feel like that would make the reader laugh out loud.

I finally saw the Deadpool & Wolverine movie, and I loved it! So now I want to see more content about Deadpool. I forget how funny he can be. I would like you to add a Deadpool & Wolverine, but I don't know if you have seen the movie yet. But I recommend you go and watch the movie.

A Day in Life: Best Friends Forever

Synopsis: A day in your life where a visit from your friend ends up in Deadpool losing his thumbs and re-attaching them back.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Gn!Assistant!Reader; Platonic!Deadpool

Tw: 18+; No spoilers from the movie; Some violence; Light gore descriptions (not really); Some sexual comments (it's Deadpool); English is my 2nd language.

Word count: 830

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: I loved this request, saw the movie on like the same week it came out, sorry this took so long</3

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— So that's what happens when I’m not around, huh?! — Hal Jordan snarked, faking amusement by the sight in front of him, but being very much not amused.

How? Was the question going through everyone's minds, as they watched their dear assistant (Y/N), in the middle of Hall of Justice, chatting away with a very infamous criminal known all around the hero-villain underground, who every single soul despised, and yet, there you were, choking your laughter and in tears with Deadpool, acting as if you've been friends all your life.

Diana was the first one to approach, followed by the rest of the Justice League.

— (Y/N), is this man bothering you? — She squared up and stared directly on Deadpool’s blank white lenses. That grounded you and helped you come back from the stories your friend was telling you.

— B-Bothering me? — Your laughter slowly died down, and you wiped your tears. — No, we’re just talking. — You shrugged and sniffled, so happy that a genuine smiled was fixed on your face, hypnotizing all the heroes for a moment.

— Wonder Woman! — Deadpool gave little fangirl jumps. Diana swallowed a groan. — It’s amazing to see you again! I’m even wearing my fanciest anal plug and thinking about you, all in your honor. — Diana couldn't control the disgusted and astounded expression on her face, while Wade saluted her. You bite your lips to not giggle.

— Don't be silly, Pool. Not everyone understands your humor. — You lightly slapped his shoulder and he sighed.

— I know! That's why I'm so introverted and depressed! — He shook his head. — That's why Disney sold me to DC, they couldn't handle my deep and complex character. Let's hope James Gunn knows what he's doing now. — Everyone, including you, furrowed their eyebrows, but no one decided to question what the hell he was talking about, since the mercenary was known for being insane. — And just after my third movie with Wolvie came out! Unbelievable. — He threw his hands in the air and shook his head while looking at an empty space as if there was someone there. He did that sometimes.

— You seem… Close. W-When did that happen, (N/N)? — Flash looked between you and Deadpool, biting his lower lip, slightly anxious. You blinked.

— Oh, well. Like, a few months ago? He sent his curriculum because he wanted to be part of the Justice League. There were no records of him in the system so I Interviewed him. Obviously he didn't pass, but we became good friends! — You shrugged with an easy smile.

— That's… Great, (N/N). — You narrowed your eyes on Hal Jordan.

— Hey… — Deadpool's mask gave the slightest hint that he was furrowing his eyebrows, and he pointed at Green Lantern. — (Y/N) told me about you. I don't like you. — He took his guns out of the holsters and pointed at the brunette. You gasped and stepped back, slightly regretting having told Wade about that. — STEP BACK WORST RYAN REYNOLDS SUPERHERO MOVIE OR I’M GONNA BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT IN 4K R-RATED! — Hal raised his arms. He was already on thin ice with you, and beating your bestie would probably be a bad idea to start over.

Batman grunted for someone to cover your eyes and threw two batarangs that disarmed Deadpool before he could react. Deadpool gasped and looked at the ground wide eyed. His thumbs had been chumped off in the ordeal (Batman was jealous and also knew he would just regenerate).

— WHAT? WHAT’S HAPPENING? — You blindly yelled, since Superman had zoomed to just behind you and was covering your eyes.

— HE CASTRATED ME! — Deadpool cried, reaching back for his swords, but since he didn't have thumbs anymore, he couldn't even hold them, making him just cry more from frustration. — THE DADDY ISSUES JUST GET WORSE! AND JUST BECAUSE I WAS READY TO BE ADOPTED BY YOU! — Batman furrowed his eyebrows at the mention of him having more than just one kid.

— Guys, we should all just calm down. — Flash tried to play the pacifist, standing in the middle of the chaos with his hands up, but Wade’s cries were covering his voice.

— WHAT'S HAPPENING? — You tried to tug Superman’s hands off, but he didn't let up, and started trying to sooth you.

Deadpool got to his knees and pathetically tried to push one of his thumbs into place, trying to accelerate his healing process, and after 30 seconds of chaos, he perked up when the thumb got attached again. He did the same to the other one.

— The sight is gross, (Y/N). You do not want to see it… — Wonder Woman mumbled, eyes fixed on the scene, feeling a mix of grossed out and impressed.

— Gross? This is natural. Like the birth of a little naked newborn baby. You wanna know what's real gross? My roommate Blind Al’s stink! She might as well be dead at this point… Uh, oh… — Wade slowly got up. — (Y/N)... Call me an Uber. I need to check on someone.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

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duhlore · 3 months ago

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❛ BUT I LOVE MESSIN’ WITH YA !

PAIRINGS; subbot!k. chisaki (overhaul) x reader

CWS; amab!reader, brat taming ig, belly bulge, afab!chisaki, choking, mentions of biting/marking, not mentioned if reader is a hero/villain etc ((up to u >_>)),, cunnlingus/face riding, creampie(s), p in v sex, ooc idfk 😒😒, cowgirl position, lowercase on purposeosos!!,, not proof read

notes: rewatchde mha and im 5 eps away from being doen with s4 and good god overhaul is so..😛😛,,this is lazily done srry but i have TOOOO much shit in my drafts so i needa work on thag.,,,;..

KAI CHISAKI who's always so rude and bossy towards others, pushing and bullying them into doing what he wants them to because he has to get his way all the time for some odd reason, not caring how many nasty comments he has to make to get what he wants. what a brat... KAI CHISAKI who thinks he's better than everyone because of his gigantic ego, like he rules the world or something. it never mattered how small or how little the person was, he always frightened or threatened them enough to do whatever he says. some definitely needs to put him in his place, but no one has the guts to do so because they're all so terrified and intimidated by him... except for you.

a low, almost inaudible whimper falls from kai's lips, a familiar sound you gotten used to as he hovers over your face, staring down at you with half-lidded lust filled eyes. And as he lowers himself down onto your face, he can't contain the moan that immediately left him when he felt your lips suckling on his clit, giving all your attention to the sensitive nub while he began rocking his hips, slowly finding a rhythm.

kai ends up grabbing a fist full of your hand when he's about to cum, grinding down onto your mouth hastily as he desperately chased his orgasm, his soaked pussy making a mess all over your face. and when he does come? he's loud as ever, so loud to the point where he has to cover his mouth with his hand, head thrown back in ecstasy as rides out wave after wave of pleasure.

KAI CHISAKI who'd always keep a stoic face and cold attitude, but when he's around you? he's a completely different person— he's always so loud and whiney whenever you go down on him, his body trembling in ways only you can cause. And he gets wet so easily too... it doesn't matter what you do to him honestly, you could literally just brush your hand against his waist or his thigh and his cunts practically drooling for you, begging for your girthy length.

KAI CHISAKI who loves when you bend his smaller body into all sorts of positions, but his personal favorite is definitely when you let him ride you. It makes him feel like he's in control... at least a little bit. he enjoys being on top because he gets to see your face while he pleases you, which pleases him— a lot.

“hmmph...” kai's breath hitches as he continues to move, his thighs aching while his body screams at him to stop, but he can't bring himself to do so. he loves looking down to see your face, being able to see how much pleasure he was bringing to you as his walls contract around your member. there are pretty marks scattered from his collarbone all the way up to his jawline along with marks on his neck that resembled handprints from you not too long ago, a sign that he belonged to you.

at some point, chisaki's head falls back when he feels your finger start to rub his clit while your other hand press against the bulge of your thick cock poking through his tummy, it was crazy how deep you were— it felt like he could feel you in his fucking throat. there's a white ring forming where the two of you are joined together, the mixture of your fluids causing kai's pussy to make an oddly satisfying squelching sound due to how sticky it was.

KAI CHISAKI who doesn't let anyone control him or forbid him from getting what he wants, but when it comes to you... he's on his knees whenever you ask, willing to give you whatever you want without and doubt or hesitation.

#꒰ 🏐 ꒱ — 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 SHOUTS!#top male reader #bottom male character #ftm character #afab character #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero acedamia x reader #bnha x reader #overhaul #overhaul x reader #kai chisaki #kai chisaki x reader #bnha smut #mha smut

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bkgml · 1 year ago

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pro hero kats having to do an interview when he’s sick because he signed a contract.

i just know he’s so baby when he gets sick because of that only child syndrome he’s been stuck with. he gets really needy and just wants to be around you. give him love pls.

maybe it’s one of those interviews with the boards that have the peel off stickies on them where he answers questions about himself and his life.

idk whatever u guys think!

he doesn’t want to go.

“baby?” you ask gently and only get a grumble in response.

your hands drift over to trace the muscles on his back. you’re sat up against the headboard on your phone and he’s laying on his stomach with his head on your lap and he’s got his arms wrapped around you.

when you guys woke up this morning you’d planned to walk around the city you’re in, grab lunch and maybe do some shopping before going in for his interview.

but katsuki unexpectedly woke up with a fever and a stuffy nose.

so instead, your day has been filled with tylenol and naps.

“i know you don’t feel well but it’s time to get up.” you say gently, caressing his back while you speak and finishing with a tap on his shoulder to signal him to sit up.

“i don’t want to fucking go to this shitty interview.” he bites. it’s not directed at you and it’s clear from the way he nestles himself deeper into your plush thighs as he speaks.

you lean forward to press kisses to his warm forehead.

“i know,” you coo.

“but you have to. i’ll get you some more medicine before you go, okay?” you murmur against his temple.

he huffs but peels his eyes open anyway, shifting to rest his chin on your thigh while looking up at you.

“you’re not coming with me?” he replies with an unknown quietness, a hint of desperation slipping through.

you smile and kiss his forehead again.

“do you want me to?” you ask and he nods gently before shifting to press kisses along your bare thigh.

“okay.” you whisper.

“we need to get up now though.” you say and he grumbles but stands with you anyway.

the two of you get ready together-slowly but surely, and head out the door.

when the two of you arrive it’s obvious to everyone on set that katsuki’s more annoyed then usual.

his brows are furrowed so deep they practically cover his eyes, and he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

you explain the situation and the crew agrees to keep this as quick as possible for him.

he puts on his brave face for the camera, goes through about one board in between each cut where he gets a five minute break.

“cut! thanks dynamite, take a five minute break.” the director calls out and you walk to where he’s slumped in his chair, pout on his face.

“hi, handsome.” you smile.

“what do you need? tylenol?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“water?” another shake of his head.

“do you want me to get you a cool towel for your head?” and he shakes his head once more.

“what do you need?” he ask gently.

his hand reaches out for you, misses once and after seeing his brows furrow in frustration you step forward.

the second time he reaches for you he gets a hold on your elbow and drags you forward until your thighs are touching his knees.

he sighs and allows himself to fall forward until his forehead is planted on your shoulder.

you breathe out a laugh and his arms come up to hold you around the waist.

you just stand there and let him do his thing.

every once in while you let your hand travel up and down his back. sometimes you’ll let it slip into his hair, scratching gently.

he lets out sighs and little grunts in reply when you ask him questions. he’s just breathing and hoping the director never yells action again.

“alright everyone, breaks over!” the director shouts and katsuki’s arms tighten around you because he was honestly starting to drift off, but he lets you go anyway so this can be over with.

he does two more boards where he answers questions about pro hero life and the rare question about his childhood and some about you.

there’s a 45 minute dinner break and katsuki spends it in his dressing room.

there’s a couch in there and he wants his half hour power nap.

“here take a tylenol before going to bed.” you say and he pops the pill before laying down and attempting to drag you with him.

“i’m going to get you a cold towel, i’ll be back.”

he groans when you leave but if he’s being honest a cold towel does sound really good.

“hi, i’m back!” you announce while walking back into the room.

when you get close enough his big hands snatch you by the waist and lifts you to straddle him while he lays on the couch.

you giggle and place the towel over his forehead.

“god, your makeup team is going to kill me.” you sigh.

he shuts his eyes and drags his hands up and down your thighs.

“don’t care. i’ll tell them i asked for it.” he mumbles, already drifting off.

“okay.” you whisper.

his power nap did not help him much and in fact probably made him a bit worse.

but you just reminded him that the quicker he got through this, the quicker you guys could go back to the hotel and sleep until morning.

he got through it. had to have little breaks for water and hugs, but he still did it.

when the two of you get home from the trip there’s edits popping up everywhere of the two of you on set.

“katsuki bakugou needing cuddles while he’s sick.”

“pro hero dynamite being in love with his girl for ten minutes straight.”

and all of the comments are filled with shit like,

katsufan118: can he look at me like that?

dynamiteloverrr836: why is he so cute with her

ynnkats4life: my fav relationship

katsuki frowns like his reputation has been completely ruined.

“kats they’re not wrong.” you smile and he grumbles but secretly agrees with you.

“who the fuck filmed us? ‘m getting them fired.” he says.

you slap his chest lightly.

“katsuki! don’t. they’re doing gods work here. i get a compilation of you being all needy.” you smile brightly.

he argues with you playfully but he can agree it’s not all bad.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x you #bakugou x yn #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader

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twilightkitkat · 3 months ago

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Thinking about how Logan is more open about his emotions than Wade despite what people perceive, and how Wade slowly learns to open up and confront his own emotions because of Logan.

Prompted by this amazing thread. Shoutout to @ramblingautisticman and @desperatelyneedcoffee for inspiring me to write this.

---

Most people expect Logan to be the more closed-off one. To hide his emotions behind a mask and keep them to himself.

But that's Wade's role.

Logan is honest about his emotions—when he's angry, he'll growl and thrash and let people know. When he's happy, he'll bark out a laugh and grin and let his eyes wrinkle at the edges. When he's sad, he'll cry and scream and drown himself in alcohol.

He may not be phased by smaller things, but he's honest about his feelings. (Something Wade could never do.)

Wade, on the other hand, isn't. He exaggerates trivial feelings, obvious situational ones—he'll cower in fear at a "scary enemy or pretend to be pissed over a minor inconvenience. He makes his outward, shallow emotions so loud that it turns everyone's attention away from what he's feeling inside.

(Because if people know how he feels inside, they'll see him and hate him. It's easier to be hated when you can chalk it up to "understandable" reasons, to being annoying or loud or inappropriate. It isn't easy when they hate you. When they look at you, bare and vulnerable and open, and hate who you are at your core.)

Wade has spent his entire life hiding his emotions. Even from himself.

He shoves them so deep down that they become a slightly bitter taste in the back of his throat until it all becomes too much and he violently throws them up.

Wade is like a glass bottle: he can steadily hold all his emotions inside, pretending to be OK, until the glass shatters and explodes and the shards dig everywhere and he's left to pick up the pieces.

But Logan isn't like that. He lets himself feel. He lets others see how he feels.

Even from the first moment they met, he let Wade know how he felt. How he fucked everything up. How he wasn't the hero he was looking for. How he was battling with so much grief and rage that he'd reached a point of complete apathy.

(It made Wade envious. To be able to just say it and move on.)

Logan was the first person Wade met to be so blatantly honest. To wear his emotions on his sleeve and act on them and still be strong and keep fighting.

(...Could he still be considered strong, if he did the same?)

When Wade was vulnerable, it felt like he was choking—the words tumbling out without his permission and leaving a mess behind. Even with the people he loved, he couldn't ever bring himself to fully trust them even if he knew he should. Even if he wanted to. (Even if he tried to.)

(He still remembers sitting across the kitchen table from Vanessa. She held his hand tightly, as if she was afraid he would slip away. Was slipping away. She was urging him to let her in. To tell her why he hadn't been himself. To open up so they could share the burden.

But he just... couldn't. How do you tell someone who loves you, who you turned back time to save that nothing was helping? That no matter how hard he tried to focus on Vanessa and just live a "normal" life that it all felt wrong? That he felt an itch under his skin to do more more more and nothing was "more" enough.

That he felt like he was just wearing his skin. Like it wasn't his, not since Francis twisted him into a monster he didn't want to become. That he still remembered her look of surprise and the reluctant way she cradled his face when she first saw it.

It wasn't her fault. He knew that. It was an adjustment.

...But why didn't anyone understand? The gnawing loneliness, the self-hatred, the feeling of everything being nothing and too much all at once.

He hated himself.)

But Logan let his emotions course through his veins like second nature. Wade watched as emotions twisted across his face like it was a form of art.

And, for the first time, he felt comfortable opening up. He let the words spill from his mouth, except instead of feeling the trail of acid burning through his throat it felt like relief. He finally met someone who understood him, who had gone through the same suffering. He saw his loneliness reflected in Logan's eyes and finally, finally, felt he could reach out without dragging someone down. (They were both already at rock bottom, anyway. The only place to go from here was up.)

And so he told Logan about Vanessa. About the family he wanted to save. About how, yes, he vaguely cared about the world, but none of this was to save the world. (It was for just nine people.)

And Logan... didn't judge him. He saw understanding—a tired, but real kind—reflected in his eyes. He didn't make fun of him for his selfish motivations. Didn't snarl in disgust that he could never be a hero because of them. (He saw him and didn't recoil.)

And there, sitting across the table from each other in that shitty building they'd escaped to, Wade finally felt seen. Understood. (Ironic, isn't it? To have to go to the void to open up about the void inside of himself. Wade would write a poem about it if he knew how to.)

He felt that same kinship as they continued their journey. Even through the insults, the exasperation, the annoyance, Wade could tell none of it was serious. Because Logan never really told him to fuck off. To stop.

If Logan didn't like him being touchy, he'd shove him off. (He didn't.) If Logan didn't like him asking questions and rambling about himself, he'd actually try to get him to shut up instead of just grumbling. (He didn't.) If Logan really didn't want to be here, he'd leave. (He didn't.)

Logan's visceral type of emotional honesty allowed Wade to let himself be vulnerable. Because if Logan hated him, he wouldn't be here. If Logan didn't want to hear it, he wouldn't tilt his head and listen and ask questions.

(It made Wade feel safe to express himself for the first time since he'd been strapped to that shitty operation table and torn apart until all that remained was a body not quite his own.)

Things were going good.

They were.

(Wade desperately hoped they'd stay that way.)

But then Logan pulled over the car, real and raw fury in his eyes. He yelled at Wade, his voice trembling with the intensity of it.

He picked apart everything Wade had told him. Threw it back in his face.

And oh. Oh.

Logan was honest. He was true to himself and his emotions.

And so, Wade thought quietly as the tired continued, he really meant it. It felt worse than when Logan had stabbed him.

(It felt like he was back on that operating table, small and weak and pathetic but still trying to keep smiling. To keep cracking jokes and being annoyed. Because, if he didn't, he'd break. If he didn't keep the shards of his personality clutched so tightly to his chest that they dug into his hands, nothing would be left of him.)

Logan dissected him. Using everything Wade told him. (Using the ammunition he'd provided.)

(Was Logan really looking at him with understanding, back then? Or was it disgust? The images blurred together in Wade's mind, distorting his memory.)

Told him how he was worthless. That the Avengers and X-men were right to reject him. (Ouch.) That it was his fault he couldn't salvage his relationship with Vanessa. (He'd tried. He'd tried so hard.)

That Logan saw him for what he was: a pathetic, attention-seeking parasite who clung to others instead of facing his own problems.

It really was God's greatest joke that he couldn't die.

Wade spiraled.

(Was he wrong this whole time? Did Logan really, truly hate him? He had to, if he's looking at Wade like that.)

If even Logan (the only person who could begin to understand his suffering) couldn't accept him, who could?

He felt like the ground was crumbling underneath him and he was falling and floating at the same time. He felt like he was an observer, looking in on the outside, even as his emotions crashed over him like a tsunami.

But he couldn't let himself break down. Wouldn't let himself be vulnerable. Not here. Not now.

So, he slid the mask back on and responded in the only way he knew how to.

"I'm going to fight you now."

(Even when they'd collapsed, bloody and weak and exhausted, the words kept ringing in his head. They'd let out their physical frustrations, maybe, but the words still clung to him like a blanket. There was still a sinking feeling in his gut. Dread twisting his stomach at the thought of being open.)

(The feeling never really went away.)

---

They started living together, in the aftermath.

Wade had called after Logan as he was about to leave and awkwardly asked him if he'd like to come home with him. Just long enough to find a place to stay, or even just for dinner.

(Logan couldn't refuse. Not with the sense of wrongness filling him as the distance between him and Wade grew with each step. When he heard Wade's voice, it felt like hope. It felt like coming home.)

One night turned into two, turned into a week, turned into a month until Logan had his own side of the dresser and nobody bothered to ask if he was leaving. (Thinking of leaving made Logan vaguely nauseous, now. It felt like ripping away the foundation of the home he'd painstakingly started to build here.)

Logan still had baggage. Still had days where all he wanted to do was grab a beer and stare blankly at the wall, thinking of all he'd done and all he'd lost.

But it was easier. Wade would walk into the living room, plop down next to him, and begin talking his ear off about whatever happened that day. He'd sling an arm around his shoulder, flip on the TV, and keep talking.

(Logan would lean against him, slightly. Would focus on Wade until his warmth and touch and voice drowned out his thoughts.)

(It worked better than alcohol ever had.)

Logan tried to let Wade know that he cared about him. That he appreciated it. Appreciated him.

(That Wade's presence was what made everything worth it. Made him finally feel like he was able to tread water without drowning.)

He'd cook Wade meals. (And pay attention to what he liked and disliked, making sure to cook things he knew Wade would comfortably eat.) He'd lean into his touch. Listen when he talked. Answer any questions he asked.

And so, when Logan came out from the shower one night and saw Wade curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the black screen of the TV, he approached him.

Wade had a vacant, empty look in his eyes. The kind that Logan recognized, but hadn't seen on him before.

It made him worried. He'd never seen Wade like this. (It was unsettling. To see Wade, who was so vibrant and expressive, look so bleak.)

"Is something bothering you, bub?" he asked, settling down next to Wade on the couch.

Wade finally seemed to register his presence, eyes flicking over to where he sat.

"Oh, peanut! I was wondering when you'd get out of the shower. Was it nice and steamy? I'd love to join you next time," Wade wriggled his eyebrows (or what was left of them) suggestively.

It was like a switch had flipped. Wade went from blank, like a doll with its strings cut, to animated and excited in a second. His eyes were sparkling again and he grinned at Logan like nothing was wrong.

(It was... uncomfortable. Did Wade not trust him? Was Wade hiding something from him?)

Logan wanted to question him, but Wade kept chattering and he could never really get a word in edgewise. (A part of him wondered if it was intentional.)

Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe Wade was just having a bad day. Logan tried to rationalize it, even as a pit formed in his stomach. A feeling of deep wrongness.

Except it kept happening.

Wade would get that same, desolate look in his eyes (always when he was alone, away from everyone) and Logan would walk in on him. Logan would try to see if something was wrong, but Wade would interject before he could.

(Logan knew his expression was concerned. Knew Wade could tell he was worried, that he cared about him. So why didn't Wade let him in?)

(Wade always listened, patiently, when Logan talked about his problems. It was one of the few times he'd go quiet, only occasionally asking questions and making extra commentary. He'd look at him with a grim understanding. Not pity, not sympathy, but empathy. Free of judgment. It was the first time Logan felt like his emotions were actually being received by someone, cradled and held and protected so that they didn't burn him out.)

Until, finally, one day, Logan snapped.

"What the fuck is up with you?" he snarled, and that didn't come out the way he intended but he was so frustrated by Wade refusing to just let him in.

"What do you mean, Wolvie? I'm—"

"Shut up. You're not fine. I've been alive for two hundred fucking years, I know by now when someone's lying, Wade," Logan interrupted before he could continue his usual antics.

"Look, I'm just having a bad day, alright? You know how it is. I'll be up and running after I take a nap, don't worry about little old me!" Wade's voice took on a faux-cheerful tone.

"This isn't just a bad day, bub. It's been happening a lot. You get this look in your eye, like you're not really there, and just stare at the wall." Logan stared at Wade with concern evident on his face. "It's worrying."

Wade snorts. "You don't have to worry about me of all people."

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean? 'You of all people?' Of course, I'd be worried about you, dumbass. I care about you and if you're hurting, I want to know why."

And Logan was so painfully honest. It was so clear in his eyes, in his expression, in his body language that he cared about Wade. Deeply.

It made Wade snap.

"Just shut up! Stop fucking talking. I don't want to hear it." Wade wished he had hair right now so he could fucking tear it out. He'd take any kind of physical pain just to distract himself from Logan, worried and open and trying to pry him open.

"Wade, what are you—you know you can tell him about anything, right?" Logan tried to regulate his breathing, to keep his tone calm. To not show the panic he was feeling. (It was obvious anyway.)

"What, so you can throw that back at me, too?"

What? What was Wade—

"So you can tell me I'm a fucking joke? That every superhero team was right to turn me down? That I couldn't even manage to keep a relationship with a stripper?"

Oh. Oh fuck. That was—

"That I should just fucking kill myself, but of course, it's God's best joke that I can't die, so now my pathetic existence is on you?"

He couldn't possibly think Logan meant that, right? Couldn't have been thinking about that this whole time—

"I don't want to burden your royal highness with my stupid problems," Wade practically snarled, "so stay the fuck out of it."

He slammed the door and left.

And Logan was left alone.

Logan wanted to run after him, to grab him and tell him that he didn't mean it. He was pissed off and spewing whatever came to his mind in the moment to hurt Wade. (And he'd achieved that goal, hadn't he?) He felt betrayed and responded in the only way he knew—by lashing out. (But that wasn't an excuse, not really. Not to take everything Wade had trusted him with and twist it. To betray his trust in such a personal, visceral way.)

(Logan knew that Wade meant well. That he was just scrambling to save his world and thought of the only solution that would get Logan to help. That when he made an "educated wish" he'd still try to see it out, had still asked the TVA after everything. But he was so fucking angry and so fucking tired and just wanted any excuse to lay down and die.)

Did Logan really have the right to, though?

Wade had listened to him. Helped him. Even after what Logan had said and done, he'd still cared. (And wasn't that a sobering thought. That this whole time, Wade thought that was Logan's opinion of him. That he still cared about Logan despite having his voice ringing in his ears, tormenting him.)

(It made Logan angry to think that Wade was used to it. To setting aside how people treated him and not expecting anything in return for his kindness. To loving and giving without receiving. It made him want to murder the people who set the bar so low. It made him want to rip out his own tongue.)

(It made him realize, yet again, that Wade was a better man than he'd ever be.)

...And Logan had fucked up. Immensely.

Had given Wade hope that he could finally open up to someone who came from a similar background and understood his suffering. All to tear it away in one glorious, horrible, mistake.

Logan had no right to fix things. To ask for forgiveness. (From Wade. From anyone.)

But what was the alternative? Letting Wade think he hated him? Leaving?

Logan would rather die than go back to living completely isolated from the world. He couldn't go back to waking up every day and drowning his sorrows with alcohol. Letting memories flash behind his eyes as he replayed everything he fucked up and obsessed over what he could've done differently.

(Because, without Wade, he would still be there. At rock bottom. Without a place to belong or any reason to get up in the morning. A samurai without a master. A drifter without purpose. A stray without a home.)

The thought of leaving behind the only thing he cared about anymore made him panic. He felt nauseous, like he wanted to throw up yesterday's dinner and his own heart alongside it.

He knew it was selfish and pathetic, but he couldn't let go. Couldn't handle losing the only thing that made living worth it, after everything.

(Of course, when he finally found someone who was like him, who felt the same loneliness, who couldn't die, he had to go and fuck up. What is Logan good for if not ruining anything good in his life?)

Logan knew he was selfish. And pathetic. And stupid.

(He felt his mouth move around the words. Spit venom at Wade, who was completely, utterly silent. He heard them, vaguely, but they didn't register. He was running on pure rage and adrenaline.)

(Why did he take until now to notice?)

He knew that.

But he didn't think it was this bad. That he'd end up ruining the only good thing to come out of his miserable existence.

He thought, at least, that even if he'd fucked up everything else, he could be good with Wade. Could be good for Wade. It was the one thing he prided himself on.

And now look at him.

Instead of Wade, it's Logan who was God's best joke.

Fuck, he wanted a beer.

#deadclaws #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool movie #poolverine #kitkat #logan howlett #wade wilson #wade x logan #wade/logan #poolverine angst #LMAOOOO I HOPE YALL ENJOY #MAYBE ILL BE NICE AND MAKE A SEQUEL WHERE THEY TALK IT OUT #RIP POOLVERINE 2024 YOU WILL BE MISSED

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cvnt4him · 7 months ago

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Think'n about being tenyas chubby lil girlfriend!!

...........................................

• Tenya adores you so, he would kiss and blow on your tummy making you feel oh, so loved!!

• He loves how much shorter than him you are and uses that to his advantage.

• Everyone sees tenya as some up tight guy who can't get laid but boy did this big dicked loser know how to fuck.

• He loves picking you up and slamming you on the bed, especially when he's angry with you.

• Bending you over in a mating press when you're feeling insecure, telling you how beautiful you are and how he loves you so.

• He loves spoiling you with his riches I feel. He just loves buying you your favorite food!

• It's not like he's trying to keep you plump or anything, especially since you had lost a lot of weight, he just wants you to be happy and he'd do anything for you!

• when you get into a fight, he's always first to apologize, he hates fighting, he hates arguing, he and hates being apart from you more than he hates being wrong, he'd do anything in his power to keep you close.

• I feel like a lot of people think tenya would be so nervous and jittering during his first time but I feel he'd actually, yeah he nervous, but he'd know what he's doing.

• like ofc it's possible, but there's no way this tall ass, fine ass, blue eyed god doesn't get horny from time to time, he def watches porn n DEF wacks his stack.

• I feel like he'd be into little things like holding you close, and 'making love' to you rather than 'fucking' you.

• he loves getting compliments about his eyes, he might have shit vision but boy are those things beautiful.

• he doesn't let people talk bad about you when you're around, not that he lets them when you're not but he knows how sensitive you are so if he's alone and someone says something about you or your body, he'll tell them to fuck off, but if you're around you can't convince me he won't get down n dirty behind your ass bro

• speaking of he's an everything guy, like legit, he's the kind of guy that can't say what he loves, however I feel he's more appealed to lips, than ass or thighs or boobs n shit like that, there's something so sexy about your lovely glossed lips.

• or when you have lipstick on and you want to suck his dick, the stains that get left on his girth as you deep throat his long veiny cock, he loves for it.

• he loves when you have little tears prickling from the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill as you gag around his cock, spit forming at the corner of your red tinted lips, your lipstick smudged all over you face.

• he's not a heavily sexual person, no but he does love giving you what you need, even if that's a good ol' dicking down.

• he just loves you so much, laying on your arms, your tummy, your thighs, boobs, ass, you name it he loves it, he wants to spoil you so much, he wanst to assure to you that you'll never have to lift a finger while hes here.

• he wants to be a hero, sure, but why be everyone's hero if he can't be yours?

Think'n bout ten ten🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

..............................................

AN; he's such a sweetie bro, you can't tell me old women don't just love how formal and respectful he is bro????? I'm officially INLOVE W him bro, need me a lil geek in my life. I wanna fucking destroy him. Might have to make a corruption fic ab tearing this little handsome dork apart.

Oh n he don't call you no goofy shi like 'my little star' or wtf ever yagami yato got y'all thinking 💀

#tenya lida #iida tenya #tenya iida x reader #mha #mha x reader #hes so babygirl #tenten #chubby reader #cvnts-post

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yandere--stuck · 5 months ago

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Bad Idea, Right? (Yandere!Stanley Pines x Reader)

Stan was stupid. Stupid, irrational, impulsive, selfish, arrogant, aggressive. A liar, a traitor, a cheat, a thief. Everything everyone has ever said about him was true, and he had the gall to try to convince anyone otherwise. The town, his family, you, even himself.

But this, this right here, had cemented the facts. Stanley Pines was a monster who didn't care about anyone but himself. Not really. He'd finally fucked up bad enough. Dug a hole so deep that even he couldn't crawl out of it.

God. He had his face in his hands, rubbing the skin in frustration. How would he get out of this? Could he? Was it really too late?

With a sigh, Stan looked up. He sat in Ford's underground laboratory, having taken a seat in front of the desk overlooking the portal. He turned to look at you - still asleep in the bed Stan had dragged down here long before he'd enacted his plan.

The guilt made his stomach turn. The guilt in knowing that, really, this wasn't impulsive. This was planned.

He couldn't help it. Or maybe that's what he told himself so he could go through with it. He should've kept his boundaries up. He should've chased you off. He should have never hired you in the first place!

Ugh, but it wasn't like Stan wanted this to happen! How was he supposed to know he'd end up falling for you? Look, maybe if you hadn't been so chummy and sweet to him, trying to make him come out of his shell and lower his guard, acting all cute and like you knew you had him wrapped around your little finger and… No, no, this was all wrong. This wasn't your fault. This was all on him.

You were just a nice person. You had been a good and helpful employee, and then, as you grew to know each other more, a good friend. He just found himself magnetized to you. He loved cracking jokes and just talking with you, drinking in your affection and attention like a man dying of dehydration. And not to mention how good you were with the kids! The fact that they liked and looked up to you only further instilled his fondness for you.

It was almost embarrassing how smitten he was with you. God, it made him feel like a young man again, even long after he should've called off love for good, considering all his failed marriages. He could only hope it wasn't obvious, especially considering what he'd done now. He at least couldn't recall a time when he'd referred to you as a honey-wasp-kitten-baby.

Stan found himself wanting you to depend on him. To be your hero. To take care of you. And now look at what he'd done. You were an innocent victim of an obsessive freak. You had opened your heart to him and found it in you to care about this old scumbag, and this was how he repaid you.

Dipper and Mabel had gone off doing something with Wendy and her friends in the evening. He'd been able to push Soos out of the shack early enough after closing. No witnesses. Anything could have happened on your walk home, after all.

It had been easy to insist you stay for dinner. And it'd been even easier to mix all sorts of shit into your drink with you none the wiser. There was a reason he didn't bring up his past around you.

A sudden whimper startled him from his thoughts, the man’s posture going ramrod straight for a moment before scrambling to your side. Concern was etched into his features as he watched your face scrunch up as you came to.

Your vision swam, the room above you was spinning as you awoke. You could swear at least four Stans circled above you, just as unfocused as everything else - so much so that it hurt just to keep your eyes open.

Your eyes fell shut as you let out a groan. “...Stan?”

You wouldn't know how Stan's heart nearly leapt from his chest, hearing you say his name like that.

His hands immediately closed around yours, giving them a squeeze. “Yeah, yeah, it's me. I'm right here. I'm right here, sweetheart.”

The pet name tasted like bile in his mouth. As if he deserved to call you that.

“Wha’ happened,” You slurred. “I feel sick…”

A hand clamped over his mouth. His stomach did a flip. God, he was gonna be sick himself. First, he ruined his brother's life, then his own, and now he was ruining yours. That's so like him. This was so like him.

“Yeah,” Stan started, almost breathless. “You're sick, honey. But, I'm gonna take care of you, okay? Everything’s gonna be alright.”

His heart skipped a beat when you didn't reply. Pressing a finger to the pulse point on your throat, he held his breath and listened to the frantic beating of his own heart. Then, he exhaled in relief. Just sleeping. Of course.

Stan stood above you for a moment, looking over you. He could turn back now. He could bring you back upstairs and let you sleep on the couch. In the morning, he could fake being ill and blame it on his cooking. You could go home, he’d give you time to sleep it off and everything would go back to normal and you'd have no idea!

Then, Stan sighed. He could do all that. He could do it right now. But, he wouldn't. Because he didn't want to. He had wanted you right here, and he had you. No amount of guilt would ever make him give you up.

Stan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

This was just who he was. And it may be his fault, but you needed him now. He needed to be responsible for you. He needed to take care of you. He needed to be your hero. He needed to be needed by you.

And that's just what he'd do.

#yandere gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #yandere stan pines #yandere stan pines x reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #stanley pines x reader #yandere stanley pines #yandere stanley pines x Reader #x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #tw drugging #drugging #noncon drugging

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banj0possum · 8 months ago

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Sweet Hero Of Mine

Yandere! Antihero x GN! Hero! Reader

im back little stinkers <333

Edit!! Nsfw mentions removed! Replaced with..Elias being a dork ?

CW: Stalking, Creep behavior, Suggestive talk about reader, slight masochism

🪲 Elias was never into the whole Superhero thing.

🪲 He hated the constant swarming of reporters and fans screaming for his attention. He didn't want to be treated like a celebrity; he just wants to fight crime where people refuse to help.

🪲 That's why he avoided ever displaying himself like that. He preferred to stay in the shadows and kept his deeds out of the picture, but there are always rats scurrying around ready for another big scoop.

🪲 He could only scoff amusingly as he sees his little escapade last night being reported on tv with a blurry photo of him on the rooftops with the words "Mysterious Vigilante Strikes Again!"

🪲 He can admit, seeing them being so absorbed in what he does is pretty entertaining, he can feel his ego go up a bit.

🪲 Soon enough he gets tired of the incessant yap of interviewees talking about him and reaches for the remote.

🪲 His body freezes though when the reporter mentions some 'new hero' and he turns back to the TV.

🪲 His eyes are blessed with the cutest sight of a person dressed in a hero outfit with a logo on their chest. Their warm smile seems to radiate happiness as they talk to the reporter. Is this the new hero they've been talking about recently?

🪲 They ask for their opinion on the vigilante situation and he almost melts over their soft voice.

🪲 "I believe this guy has good intentions. Which is great and all but if it's endangering people and their properties, I think it's time they think about how running around and punching people in a suit isn't being heroic, it's being obnoxious!"

🪲 There goes his ego..

🪲 And perhaps his clean pants..

🪲 He starts researching all about this new hero. Who do they think they are?! This little brat has to be taught a lesson!

🪲 He stalks your social media, every fan account, every news atricl about your deeds, everything.

🪲 For for blackmail of course! Maybe he can find some dirt on you..in this fan account that makes thirst edits of you..

🪲 Soon enough he starts tracking you and your appearances. Every fight with a villain or any burning building with people that need saving, he's there with a high-grade camera that can snap all the rips and tears in your suit...for blackmail!

🪲 He's real happy that he wore a trench coat to your most recent battle or else everyone would have probably seen his growing boner whenever you throw a punch that connected to your opponent.

🪲 He's combing through the photos he took of you and shivers over your sweaty form and aggressive face.

🪲 He imagines meeting you, perhaps having a battle of his own, being pinned down by you, having your arms grappling and squeezing on his body. Perhaps you'd even say something degrading to him with that sweet voice of yours..

🪲 So that's what he does.

🪲 You were doing some last-minute night patrols after a long day of crime fighting and interviews when you hear a deep gravelly voice behind you.

🪲 "Hey there hero~"

🪲 You look back and see a large muscular man in a suit that looked like the armor of some insect.

🪲 "Huh, didn't expect to meet you here vigilante!" I joke.

🪲 "Oh please, call me Beetle~" He smirks as he walks closer to you. God you're even cuter in person..

🪲 "Well, Beetle, you are aware that you're kinda sorta wanted for a lotta stuff right?"

🪲 "Is it worse than the shit those pieces of scum done? Unlike youre pretty little ass I'm actually gettin bad guys off the streets.~" He teases, putting a hand on the wall and leaning close to your face. He's trying not to swoon over your stern face.

🪲 "Unlike you, I'm keeping people safe! Although I do commend your...unique sense of justice.."

🪲 *internal squealing*

🪲 He's a little surprised that you're so nice, unlike some other douchey heroes he knows.

🪲 He lets out a chuckle "That's new..Thanks goody-two-shoes.."

🪲 You give him a teasing face "Hey I'm not that much of an angel!"

🪲 "Oh~? Well o me you are, sweet hero of mine~"

🪲 You two become quick friends, even having missions together.

🪲 His obsession got worse from there.

🪲 Riding in your superhero vehicle, he rarely looks anywhere but at you driving, explaining to him the mission that he barely cares about other than the fact that it's an excuse to be with you.

🪲 Every time you take his hand to lead him somewhere, he makes sure to burn the feeling into his mind. Oftentimes he's the one doing whatever it takes to have physical contact with you, but it's way better whenever you initiate it.

🪲 You love taking pictures together. Of course he never smiles when you take one but when he's back at home, he's staring at it with the biggest, goofiest grin.

🪲 He loves taking pictures too, only he prefers ones with you and you alone. Sometimes it would be things you like so he wouldn't forget.

🪲 You blush, flattered over him remembering your favorite drink.

🪲 He'd memorize anything you say and put it in a top secret file named "My Love"

🪲 Oh my god please degrade him jokingly.

🪲 Bully him, push him around, be playfully rough with him!! Sure it's all in good fun but he's feeding his guilty pleasure whenever you treat him like shit while also being so sweet to him.

🪲 Pull him down suddenly by his suit's collar whenever you want to whisper something to him or show him something, he loves it. Although be warned, he might moan a little..

🪲 He's crazy for you, insane even, bonkers almost!!

🪲 He comes home seeing you in a superhero gala at one of the fanciest buildings in the city.

🪲 The bone-breaking grip on his beer bottle almost cracks the bottle when he sees you being accompanied by some other hero.

🪲 They're being all close with you and making you laugh, he can feel his jealousy rise within his body at the sight of your adorable smile, one that wasn't because of his jokes, his company!

🪲 Maybe it's about time he gives this superhero thing a try..

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bunsiesblog · 6 months ago

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How To Care for Your Stray Hero

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Japan's #1 hero finds himself on your fire escape, again, needing some TLC from his favorite girl.

tags: vigilante!deku, aged up midoriya, romance, domestic fluff, smut, finger sucking, dry humping, clothed sex, lap sex, praise kink, two emotionally constipated idiots in love

5.7k words

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A slight rattle could be heard as he landed on your fire escape. You wasted no time padding over to the window, pulling your curtains aside to reveal your hero.

Your tired hero.

The vigilante hunched over, breathing slow and heavy. His costume was tattered and torn. Even more so than when he last saw you. It was caked with dirt. Possibly blood? His own, you couldn't be entirely sure. Darkness hid his eyes. The mask he wore gave a metallic ring to his breath.

Midoriya looked downright terrifying.

You pushed your window open, leaning through the frame to get a better look. The hero didn't move away from you. Not even when you reached out to him. Or when you gently pushed back his hood.

His verdant curls are what you see first—soft waves and ringlets draped over his forehead. Then his eyes.

Oh, those eyes.

Dark circles had been painted under them, exhaustion rooted deep into the orbs. Midoriya appeared to struggle to meet your gaze. Almost shamefully, he settles to stare at the floor. Your hand pauses for a moment—but only a moment—before you gently cup his cheek and guide his head upward.

No words were spoken. They didn't need to be. He worked so hard to push everyone away. He knew the dangers and risks of coming here to be with you—even if it's for a single night. Midoriya couldn't help but be selfish.

You were his little secret and his alone.

He tried not to take advantage of your kindness. Every visit, the time between when he would see you again just got longer. Some form of self-punishment. You knew he was a stubborn man. He knew it, too. You pushed him just enough without making him feel guilty, though.

The warm light of your apartment surrounded you. It practically begged the worn vigilante to come in. You looked like an angel, a goddess showing kindness to a weak and tired man. The pilgrimage to see you was wrought with pain, villains, and isolation—a path he had no regrets walking down.

"Come inside." You say softly.

His chest flutters at the sound of your voice. Your hand moves from his cheek down to the yellow scarf wrapped around him. With a gentle tug, you guide him into your living room.

He follows you wordlessly—obediently.

He shuffles into the living room, which looks to be too small for him. Midoriya's towering frame has become the centerpiece in your rather homely and tiny apartment. It was almost amusing. You shut the window as he idly stands by.

You take a few silent steps towards him. Now that he is standing, there is no doubt that he is much taller than you. His figure oozes strength and power, although his crestfallen expression tells you just the opposite.

You stand on your tip-toes to unclasp his mask. But you can't quite reach around to undo it completely. The vigilante dipped forward–-his face coming close to yours. He could have just as easily taken it off himself, but he wanted you to do it.

His green curls tickled your cheek, and you could hear his tinny sigh in your ear. With a simple click, you pulled it off of him. Midoriya's warm breath fanned against your skin.

Tossing the mask to the side, you begin unraveling the yellow cloth. Your hands roam down the expanse of his strong arms, which feel tough and firm under your fingertips even in this relaxed state. They keep traveling until they meet his hands. You hold them up to your eyes as you pull one glove off—finger by finger—and again with the other.

Despite how injured his limbs are, Midoriya can still feel the softness of your skin against his. You hold the large and calloused hands. Without much thought, you press your lips to his scars. His body stiffened at the feeling. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears as you placed tender kisses on his healed-over wounds.

You always found his hands attractive. That was not a secret between either of you. Midoriya couldn't wrap his mind around it, no matter how often you explained it…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Can I see them again?" You asked.

He looked at you with a slightly bewildered expression. But he obliged you anyway. Midoriya always had a hard time denying your requests. He offered you his hand, palm face up. You eagerly took it within your own, holding it delicately.

The crooked fingers and mangled skin were evidence enough that he could withstand a bit of mishandling. Yet, with everything you did, it was always gentle. As though he might break under your touch.

"I've been learning how to read palms, you know." You confide in him.

His brows raise in interest. It wasn't so much as a fun fact you thought to let him know. Moreover, you implied you would read his palms—whether he liked it or not. Not that he would complain.

"Really?" He says, watching you intently. "What do mine say?"

"Well, this line right here. See how it's long and curves this way? I can tell that means you are someone who overthinks. You get a bit in your head, but you are methodical. It's deep, so that means you must have a great memory." He tenses as your fingers drag along his palm.

Midoriya wonders if it's true. If just by looking at a line on his hand, you can tell all of that.

"What else?" He urges you to continue. Truthfully, he didn't particularly believe in stuff like this. He had his ulterior motives—mainly to keep your hands on him.

"This one is your heart line. And it says—oh my," Your brows furrow as you look closer. A tone of concern laces your voice. Midoriya leans forward, too, wanting to know what you see.

"What? What does it say?" He asks. You look up at him and smile a little.

"It says you are loved by many. You're really popular with the ladies. You must leave a trail of broken hearts wherever you go, huh?" You tease.

His cheeks redden, mostly from embarrassment. Almost no one would describe him as a lady's man. Flirting wasn't exactly his forte. Even though he tried to do it with you, he was pretty hopeless. He was lucky enough that you found his attempts endearing.

"Ok, I think that's enough palm-reading for tonight." He says, trying to pull his hands away.

Your grip tightens around him, unwilling to let go quite yet. His eyes widen just a tad at your strength.

"I'm not done with your hands yet. I'm still admiring them." You say matter-of-factly.

He says nothing in response. Midoriya watches as you continue to fiddle with them. Kissing every fingertip, every knuckle, every scar. They were strong, firm, and rough. And yes, while his fingers were crooked and his skin was defaced, you only found them all the more attractive.

He pulls away to cup your cheek. The warmth of his calloused hand practically envelopes the side of your face. You lean into his touch, placing your hand over his own. Midoriya runs his thumb across your lips.

Without thinking, you part them and bring his finger into your mouth. The sudden warmth and wetness make him pause; all he can do is watch you. Your tongue drags along the pad of his thumb before curling around it. The vigilante is keenly aware of your every movement.

His mouth slightly parted. A blush dusts his cheeks, and he instinctively licks his lips as he studies the sight before him. The heat and softness your muscle offered made his cock stir. He couldn't help but imagine you on your knees. Midoriya relished the eager and lust-filled look you had on your face. You took pleasure in the flustered expression he had donned himself…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You moved on from his gloves to the red compression tape that wrapped around his arms, slowly unwinding it and letting it fall to the floor. Following that were his belt, his leg braces, and his shoes.

One by one, you peeled them off until only his suit remained. He watched you from the corner of his eye, primarily focused on the painting you had hung up behind you. You fiddled with the hidden zipper, looking up at him with doe-like eyes.

"May I?" You inquired.

You always sought permission when taking off the final piece of his costume. He nodded his head, turning around to give you better access. Midoriya loved it when you asked. He couldn't place why. But hearing the question made his body flush with heat. It didn't go as smoothly the first time you tried to remove his suit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

There was blood everywhere. You knew it before you could see it. The bitter smell hung heavy in the air, the metallic taste ruminating on your tongue. The green suit became dark with the ichor that gushed out of him. With all these layers, you couldn't possibly tell where the wound was.

He lay barely conscious on your couch. The only sounds coming from him were groans of pain. You didn't ask. Midoriya didn't seem coherent enough to answer anyway. Plus, why else would he stumble into your living room if not for your help?

Wasting no time, you fingered around for the zipper. You began to pull down until a firm hand gripped your wrist. With a jump, you looked into his eyes. The moans had stopped, and he stared straight into your soul.

Clearly, he didn't want you to continue with what you were doing. Right now, it was a battle of wills. And you were willing to bet you could take on the badly injured hero.

"Let me help you." You asserted.

Midoriya paused for a moment as though he were deciding whether to let you or not. Now wasn't the time for the brooding, self-righteous attitude. It was no secret that he was stubborn. Thankfully, you were equally so. He winces as another wave of pain courses through him. His grip loosens on you just enough for you to get to work.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The suit rolls off of him. The fabric folds on itself as you bring it down. It reveals a masterpiece of pale, bruised, and freckled skin. It's pulled tight around his muscles, revealing a body sculpted from marble.

Now he's standing in your living room except for his underwear. Piece by piece, you had taken off his costume. Chipping away at the vigilante Deku until all that was left was a man underneath.

That was the rule when he came over. The outside world didn't matter. His names, titles, responsibilities, everything. It got left behind on that fire escape. It would still be waiting for him by the time he leaves in the morning. But at least for a few hours—for now, he could be a normal person seeking the comfort of another human being.

You walk around him, a hand dragging along his torso as you observe the damage. It looked like he had a few more scars than when you saw him last—mainly bruising, though. It brought a strange relief to you.

Midoriya instinctively wraps his hand tightly around yours when you offer it. You guide him towards your bathroom, opening the door and standing beside the frame. You offer him the privacy of showering alone. However, more recently, he has gotten into the habit of dragging you along with him.

He stands in the doorway, looking into the sandy-themed bathroom. There is a pause. You can see the gears in his head twisting as he tries to decide. His green eyes flick to you, who is already staring him down to see what he would like to do.

"Clean up. I'll make some dinner for us." You suggested.

He almost looked pained at the offer. Like you had kicked a puppy. Midoriya must have really wanted to shower together.

"Don't give me those eyes!" You couldn't help but laugh.

There was no doubt he was intentionally pulling at your heartstrings when a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was barely noticeable. Unlike the swell of your heart, which demanded your attention when you caught sight of the smirk.

"Katsudon?" He spoke finally.

Oh, his voice.

You grinned and pushed him into the bathroom. "Coming right up!"

You shut the door, giving him some much-needed privacy. Walking into the kitchen, you began your endeavor to make dinner for the both of you. It wasn't quite dinner per se, considering it was almost midnight. But a warm bowl of pork cutlets, eggs, and rice was always welcome. Just as you began to slice up the fried pork, you heard the soft padding of feet behind you.

Midoriya's lumbering frame stood close. The warmth of his body pressed against you, the smell of soap clung to his skin—your soap. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he leaned forward to look at your handiwork. It was now that you realized he was still in his towel, which was tied loosely around his hips. His green hair held a much softer curl while wet. It dripped onto your shoulder, and you squirmed.

"Hey! You're gonna get the food all wet." You tried to reprimand.

Your body wiggled, trying to push him away. It only served to have him hold onto you tighter. His hand sneaked past to grab a strip of meat and pop it in his mouth. Midoriya moaned softly at the crispy texture and savory flavors that coated his tongue.

"So good." He complimented, resting his chin on your shoulder.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. It was such a slight sound that had a resounding effect on you. Clearing your throat, you tried to refocus on the task at hand.

"I left some clothes on the bed for you. Go get warmed up. Dinner will be ready in a minute." You suggested.

Midoriya hummed in response, giving you a tight squeeze before departing to the bedroom. You let out a breath you didn't even realize you had been holding. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. If only he knew the full extent of his effect on you. You served up the bowls and moved over to the couch. Your apartment was too small for a dining table.

"When did you get these?!" He exclaimed from your room.

Midoriya came trotting out wearing cotton All Might pants. You twisted around to see him positively beaming at the sight. His green eyes brightened in a way you only saw when he was stuffed deep inside—

Your cheeks flared up, and you turned around to face the TV. "Just a few weeks ago. It's nothing—I just wanted you to have something comfy to wear when you were here." You stuffed your face with rice, failing at getting the inappropriate images out of your mind.

Midoriya smiled at the thought of you going about your day and picking out something for him. Thinking of him. The image made a warmth spread across his chest. His rough hands tenderly rubbed over his heart, hoping it might help it slow down. He walked over and stood before you, waiting for your undivided attention.

You peeked at him through your lashes, hastily swallowing your bite to speak. But before you could even get the words out, he bent over, bringing his face close to yours. His thumb swiped across your lips to brush away a grain of rice as he gave you a soft smile.

"Thank you." The gesture made you swoon, catching a glimpse of the confident and heroic Deku in the moment.

It made you suddenly nervous and hyper-aware that you didn't have just any man in your apartment. You had Japan's greatest hero. Deku. Who had millions who adored and feared him. Who single-handedly protected the nation. It had been a long time since you felt…nervous around him.

These secret rendezvous have been a part of your life for some time now. You had gotten over yourself long ago and had grown to see him as more than his costume. But rare moments like these seemed to bring it all to the front of your mind.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Deku rushed towards you. Your body trembled, your feet welded to the concrete. And despite how much you yelled at yourself to look away, move, and run…all you could do was helplessly stare at the defeated villain crumpled to the ground.

Death was so close. So close you could still feel his cold hand on your shoulder, primed to take you at a moment's notice. An eternal and unforgiving nothingness waiting to greet you. Memories, feelings, life…all snuffed out by the whim of a selfish villain.

"Hey…look at me," Midoriya's metallic voice commanded.

You couldn't even do that much. Stuck in a repeating loop of torture. It pained him to see you this way. That he had come so close to losing you. That he couldn't protect you. And if he had come even a second later—

He tried not to think about it. Instead, he reached out and gripped your shoulders before pulling you tightly to his chest. The motion snaps you out of your daze. His broad body practically enveloped you as though he could shield you from any danger. His hand rested on the back of your head, and you buried yourself into his chest.

"You did good. Lasting as long as you did until I could get there. I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You had stopped watching the show a while ago. Old superhero cartoons the two of you had repeatedly seen were much less interesting than the actual hero sitting beside you.

He sat with his legs splayed wide, taking up a good portion of your loveseat. His muscled arm draped over the back of the sofa, lifting his tee to show a hint of a v-line. His other held you firm to his side, drawing lazy circles on your arm. And his eyes. The forest held within them seemed to sparkle with amusement.

This was him. Izuku Midoriya.

Not the hero holding Japan together. Not the vigilante striking fear into villains. Just…Izuku. And he was all yours. For the few hours you had him tonight, at least.

He noticed you staring and tilted his head to look at you. His heart skipped under your curious gaze, but he nevertheless swallowed his nerves to speak.

"Do you want to watch something else?" He asked.

The hero studied you as you moved to sit on his lap. His heart began to buzz against his chest, making itself known. Almost like a dog excitedly wagging its tail.

Your oversized shirt lifted to reveal your soft thighs to him. And it was now he realized that you weren't wearing any shorts underneath. Not because he couldn't see them. But because he could feel your warmth through the thin fabric of your panties.

The hero swallowed thickly, deciding to look up instead of down. But he found himself caught in your inquisitive gaze. He tried to maintain his composure but still felt a familiar heat flush up to his cheeks. Midoriya clenched his hands, the blunt nail digging into his calloused palms.

Being intimate with you was nothing new, but the way you looked right now was sinful. Your head tilted curiously to the side. He noted how your hair cascaded with the movement. His eyes flicked to your lips, which had been parted and curled almost into a smile.

Don't look at the lips. Don't look at the lips.

He tried to resolve. So he ambled up over your rosy cheeks to meet your eyes. Which held nothing but absolute adoration for him. He reached up to the collar of his shirt and tugged at it, a poor attempt to cool his warm face. Midoriya relented and let his head fall back, unable to keep his eyes on you anymore.

Truthfully, it didn't matter where he looked. Every part of you served to be the object of his desires. From his innocent daydreams to the most salacious thoughts. It was not that long ago that Midoriya had taken a hit square to the jaw as he inconveniently remembered just how beautiful you looked sprawled out underneath him.

"Earth to Izuku." Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

His ears twinged pink at the realization he had gotten lost in thought.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"Welcome back, Space Cadet." You teased, poking his forehead with a playful smile. Something about you was so infectious that he could hardly suppress his own. "There's that million-dollar smile. I was wondering if I'd get to see it tonight."

He rolled his eyes, leaning back into the softness of the couch and letting his hands rest along your thighs. You admired his casual look: how his hair curled around his face, how his eyes observed you, the flash of his pink tongue as it swiped across his lips, or the endless freckles that dotted his cheeks.

Izuku was incomparable. And it was any wonder why he picked you to spend the occasional quiet evening with.

You leaned in close, cradling his face. He felt his skin go hot at the sudden intimacy. But he still refused to pull away.

"W-what are you—"

"Shh, I'm counting your freckles." You interrupted.

Midoriya blinked. You were so cute; it practically pained him. The hero quickly became pliant under you.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked.

Your brain seemed to go haywire at the question, and your cheeks blossomed upon realization. You flitted your gaze between his green eyes and his lips. And then you nodded—not before completely melting his heart.

"Pretty please?" You replied.

His scarred hand reached up to the curve of your face, guiding you towards him. Your heart thrummed in your chest, and you leaned in to kiss his lips chaste. Izuku peered at your lips. And before you could ask for another, he was already pressed to kiss you again.

And again.

He noted how soft your lips felt—even as you hungrily took everything you wanted from him. Midoriya was happy to let you get away with it. So long as he got to have you just a bit longer.

Your hands ran up the expanse of his chest, fisting the cotton underneath as you desperately yearned to be closer. His hand came up to your neck, fingertips brushing against your jaw as his thumb rested against the column of your throat.

Your tongue dragged across his lower lip, teeth gently biting and pulling at it for entry to the rest of him. He sighed at the feeling, letting you take all of him and more.

He brought the hand resting along your neck down your front, gently pawing at your chest. He murmured into your mouth at the plushness of it. His finger dragged over the fabric of your shirt, firmly swiping over your nipple, which elicited a sharp inhale from you.

His fingers expertly teased you. Thumbs rolling across the sensitive buds, pinching and pulling at them over your clothes.

He loved nothing more than drawing out your whines and moans, learning the way your body reacted to him. Midoriya nearly whined himself as you pulled away from the kiss. But it was quickly swallowed as he watched your fingers hook around the hemline of your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal yourself to him.

He practically drooled. Exercising every bit of self-control not to defile your chest, which sat so pretty in front of him. No. He wanted to admire them first before he lavished them.

Izuku cupped your breasts, enjoying how they seemed to bounce with every movement. His fingers sunk into the plush skin, giving you a tender squeeze. The pads of his digits rolled over your nipple. He noted how it pebbled with the movement, perking up just for him. Instinctively, he wrapped his lips around and swept his tongue across it. You inhaled sharply. And he could tell just how much you had enjoyed it when your back arched into his mouth.

"Just like that~" You praised.

Your fingers tangled in his mess of green curls. Izuku hummed against you, the vibrations suddenly making you whine for more. His cock steadily stiffened, twitching up to your clothed heat. The hardness pressed against you, mixed with the attention of Midoriya's mouth, hazed all of your senses with lust.

You raised off of his lap, and he almost seemed to frown. He wasn't done with you. Nevertheless, he rested his hands on your waist, waiting to see what you would do. His shaft bulged against the loose fabric of his pants. Midoriya's cock pressed up against his abdomen. You would surely see his pink tip if the waistline had been tugged down even a little.

Before he could ask what you were doing, you aligned yourself with his thick member and sat happily on it.

The thinness of your clothes did little to hide how you felt to each other. His shaft placed neatly between your lips, making your panties soak up your wetness. Midoriya groaned and shifted his hips to give you a better angle to grind against him. He watched as you rolled back and forth. His tip occasionally peeked out at the movement.

You bit on your lower lip to stifle your moans. His breathing was heavy as he held onto your hips, holding you down to apply just the right amount of pressure to his dick. Izuku was beginning to wonder if this was pleasure or punishment.

He gripped you strong enough to hold you still, lifting you up so he could tug down the waistband of his pants. The vigilante sighed and let you rest yourself back on him. You slid up and down his shaft. His tip nestled neatly between your clothed lips and pushed against your clit as you rubbed against him.

Midoriya eagerly watched you, committing the sight of you to his memory. Everything you did seemed to take his breath away. The hero had accepted long ago that his heart was yours and that he would continue to make Japan safer for you.

You lifted up ever so slightly, pushing your panties to the side. His cock eagerly twitched at the realization he'd finally get to be inside of you. The blunt head rolled between your lips before pressing towards your hole.

Midoriya sighed at feeling the entrance happily wrap around the leaky tip. The sigh quickly turned into a choked groan as you suddenly sank down on him.

He nearly bottomed out from under you, a gasp as his hands flew to your hips to hold you steady. Midoriya was too embarrassed to admit he'd almost met his early demise. You whined at the fullness of him, his shaft thoroughly stretching you in a familiar burn you hadn't felt for quite some time.

"S-so good," he mumbled with a hoarse voice. "So good, my pretty girl," Midoriya praised.

Your walls seemed to flutter around him at the sweet name he called you.

"Say that again." You breathed, slowly moving up and down on his lap.

He groaned at the sensation, enjoying how wet and warm you felt around him. Whatever control he thought he had quickly melted away under the indulgence of you.

"J-just like that. My pretty girl," He voiced again, his hand shifting to place the pad of his thumb on your clit.

A jolt of electricity shot through you, making your soft walls clamp tighter around him. He groaned at the tightness wrapped around him. At the same time, you whimpered at the pleasure of his thumb lazily stroking you. You continued to ride him, touching his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

The slow and languid pace was borderline torture for him. The way your pussy squeezed his cock as you lifted your hips. As though your own body didn't want to let him go. You took your sweet time fucking him. As if you had all the time in the world.

His head fell back, soft moans escaping from his parted lips. Meanwhile, you rode the vigilante at your own happy pace. You enjoyed seeing him like this. Relaxed and at ease. Lost in his own lust. Having forgotten about everything else. Completely enraptured by you.

He felt your movements quicken, becoming sloppier as you tried to get closer to your own end. Midoriya adored the sight of you drunk off of him, using his cock for your pleasure. He couldn't stop himself from reaching forward and pulling your face into his for a desperate kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips. And he drank up the moans you spilled into his mouth.

The hero gripped the back of your thighs, holding you steady as he turned the both of you over so he could be on top. The ease with which he carried you turned you on much more than you wanted to admit. You knew he was strong. But in small moments like that, he made you realize just how capable he is.

Your legs spread for him in response, eager to have him back inside of you again. He couldn't help but grin, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. Midoriya untied the drawstring of his pants, kicking them off before moving to slide your ruined underwear down your legs.

"So wet for me. All for me." He sighed, unable to keep himself from you anymore.

His lips crashed into yours as his cock plunged into your core. Midoriya set a relentless pace into you that made you whine and cry. The hero was never rough with you. But he would happily drown under the riptide of pleasure you gave him--bringing you down with him.

"F-Fuck," Izuku staggered out, his hips rolling into you. "Y-you feel so good." He admired.

This was his favorite part. Seeing you come undone by him. Lost to your own desires, only able to see him. Think of him. He loved how his name sounded when it came from your lips. Midoirya didn't know if he liked it more when you were begging for or praising him.

Your mewls only served to push him closer to his climax. So, he angled his hips in a way he knew would finish you. His hot tip pressed to your g-spot with every thrust. A cry tumbled from your lips. And you desperately grasped at him as your body became weak against the overstimulating pleasure he pushed into you.

"W-wait, Izu--fuck," You stammered, your body begging for a reprieve.

You whined, an electrifying heat pooling in your abdomen. The words could barely come out before he happily drew out your orgasm for him. Your walls clamped down on him, keeping his cock firmly stuffed deep inside of you. He moaned at the feeling. His head fell forward, his curled hair covering his eyes.

He wanted to pull out. He tried, but your cunt just felt so warm he never wanted to leave. And like you could read his mind, you permitted him. Not only that, you had practically begged him to do so.

"I-inside…I need it inside," You pleaded, your legs pulling him into you. Midoriya groaned, practically falling on top of you as his final thrust sputtered inside you. It was better than seeing you painted with his cum. The way your walls milked every drop from him. Claiming you in a much more intimate way.

"Fuck." He grumbled, which sent shivers down your spine. His heavy body seemed to relax against you, resting his forehead on yours as you both tried to catch your breath. Midoriya's green eyes had fluttered closed, the curl of his lashes brushing against his freckled cheeks.

And you had to bite your tongue from telling him you loved him right then and there.

The relationship, if you could even call it that, was a delicate dance the two of you tip-toed around. Never quite saying what you meant. You knew that his country, his work, being a hero--came first. And he feared that saying the obvious part out loud only solidified putting you in danger.

The simple truth was that when you two were intertwined as you were now, holding on tightly--afraid to let go. The words didn't need to be said. Two hearts that beat in sync knew the truth.

You gently kissed his cheek and smiled as he returned the gesture, delicately pressing his mouth to your face and neck. With your arms encircling his shoulders, he carried you tenderly towards your room. And as he lay down beside you, he drew you close. There was little you could do about how your heart fluttered at having your hero beside you again, even if it was for a single night.

"Izuku?" You mumbled, pressing your face to the crook of his neck.

"Hmm?" He hummed, eyes already closed as he drew lazy circles on your arm.

"I missed you."

Midoriya's heart buzzed from your affectionate words. And there was a pause in the air as he thought of what to say next. Miss was too simple. He didn't just miss you. He ached for you.

He loved you.

Your soft snores interrupted his thoughts. He pulled you in closer, holding you tightly.

"I missed you too," Midoriya smiled. As much as he didn't want to admit it, as much as he felt he didn't deserve you, he enjoyed these moments of domesticity—a peek at a different life—one where the fate of Japan didn't rest on his shoulders.

When you woke up, you knew the bed would be much colder without him in it. A note would have been left for you on your nightstand, the dishes from last night's dinner would have been cleaned up, and the clothes he wore would have been folded neatly.

He'd be long gone.

And you would happily wait forever for the return of your stray hero.

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