#drawing him so scrawny was a little upsetting actually its like wrong

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

OK now I need to know what Henry looks like without the illusion disks...

Yeah uh... pretty rough.

[babyybitchhh]

Shigaraki x Reader 18+

Title: Crybaby

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 12,290

Warnings: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure how to tag some of this so proceed with caution. Infantilization, forced age regression, mental age regression, non consensual regression, ageplay, mentions of baby bottles and pacifiers, coercion, general noncon and dubcon, diddling, vaginal fingering, involuntary urination, wetting, mention of forced third party bathing, diapers, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, creampie, excessive use of 'Tomu-nii', mention of sex slaves, a brief but explicitly violent death mention towards the start, overall very questionable decisions from both me and Shigaraki

A/N: I will not be taking any questions at this time, thank you.

( @tomurasprincess)

♥♥♥♥

There was a fine line between a gift and a burden.

A new video game, for example, is something people were generally happy to receive and there was no obligation to slave over it at all hours of the day, unless you wanted to. A puppy, on the other hand, came with a certain amount of responsibility that couldn’t be side lined until Tomura decided to deal with it. There was no save button, no coming back to it later. He had to be vigilant to some degree, mindful of the life that was now in his hands, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even really possess the vernacular needed to describe exactly how much it pissed him off that he was suddenly expected to take care of someone - something else.

It was bullshit.

Standing over your prone form sprawled out on the cluttered floor he thinks, not for the first time, about ending it right here and now. It would be easy, surely. One touch of his hand and you’d be gone. Disintegrated to mere dust and nothing more than a vague, unpleasant memory in the back of his mind. You deserved it by simple virtue of being such a damn inconvenience but, just as every other time, he hesitates.

Not because you don’t even realize the danger you’re in as you innocently kick your legs back and forth in the air, all your wide eyed, dopey attention locked on the tv screen. Tomura is not so soft as to consider a sneak attack you don’t even see coming an insult to his pride. He would’ve been showing you mercy, actually, because if he didn’t fear upsetting All for One so much he’d have preferred to wrap his hands around your scrawny little neck instead. Give you a good throttle or two. Squeeze until his knuckles were a stark white against your purpling blue skin. He could almost envision what you would look like, all bloated and full of blood from burst capillaries and reddened eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

His cock stirs in his pants and his hatred for you grows with it. He couldn’t stand you or what you represented, a sudden addition to his life that he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of, and the fact he was getting stiff from his morbid fantasies was certainly your fault too. Everything was your fault. Right down to the most minor of inconveniences, you were to blame - even if it happened before you were dropped into his lap with all the to-do of a posh, overly indulgent birthday present. It was you. You, you, you, you you you youyouyouyouyou -

“Tomu-nii?”

With a jolt, he snaps out of it. The haze lifts and his blown out eyes focus in on your tubby little face, now turned over your shoulder to glance back at him. Tomura isn’t sure when you realized he was looming over you like some horrible, sickly wraith and he knows even less how it is that you show no fear towards him. Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t sense his desire to not only kill you but make you suffer? So blind that you didn’t see the way his bony hands fisted at his sides with a purpose and not in idle reflex?

No. It wasn’t that you were as unintelligent as a brain dead sheep happily trotting off to slaughter. Rather, it’s because that was what All for One had designed you to be.

Tomura wouldn’t claim to understand how, exactly, his mentor had gotten these results but he knows enough to recognize the signs. You’d been stripped of everything in a way that far exceeded mere surface level nudity. All for One had gone even deeper than that, past flesh and bone and right into the heart of what made you you. The brain.

He had no doubt that a quirk had been used, the specifics of which he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but the tinkering and rewiring had done its job exceedingly well, in fact. While your body was that of a young adult woman, early to mid 20’s if he had to wager a guess, your mind was something like that of a toddlers. You could speak just fine but the enunciation was sloppy, your words childish and limited to small, easily communicable sentences. You picked up on things surprisingly fast, perhaps even a little too well if the way he’d heard you let out a soft, half hearted ‘fuck’ earlier was anything to go by. But you slipped up just as easily and he was getting real tired of making sure you went and sat on the toilet instead of pissing all over his (no doubt already smelly) carpet. Living in his own mess was one thing. Living in someone else’s was another matter entirely.

Nothing about this was in error, though. You were exactly what All for One intended for you to be - little more than an animal for him to look after but with arguably higher stakes involved - and he’d had enough. It’d only been a single day, a full 24 hours since you were dropped into his room, and he was already at the end of his patience.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like that stupid cartoon I put on for you?”

You actually had the audacity to pout at him, jutting your lower lip out and puffing your cheeks as if that was supposed to make him feel anything other than an even stronger urge to take you out of this world. “S’not that. Mm’ just bored. You’re no fun.”

Tomura very nearly lunges at you with outstretched hands, All for One be damned, but your next words stop him in his tracks.

“I thought maybe you were coming to play with me.”

Play with you? He would’ve laughed if only he could find even a sliver of real humor in this situation. This was a joke, if not because of the absurdity of it all then at least because he wanted to play with you alright. He wanted to play a game that started with you screaming in shrill terror and ended with a chilly body laid out on his bedroom floor. That sounded like more fun than a barrel of kittens.

He stills himself, though, and snobbishly peers at you down the length of his nose. “I don’t play games with brats. Sorry.”

That only makes you pout even more. “Meanie.”

“Watch your fucking cartoon,” Tomura grits out through gnashing, angry teeth, unreasonably irritated by your persistent refusal to cooperate. “Before I make you.”

He isn’t even really sure if that threat makes any sense at this point, so thrown off by your mere presence in what should’ve been his space that he can barely make heads or tails of his own thoughts anymore. But the dramatic way you squawk in displeasure and throw yourself out flat on the floor placates him somewhat. You were easy to rile up, and he would have been a boldfaced liar if he’d said he didn’t get a kick out of that. Tomura had never felt quite so cruel, so much like an adolescent bully looking to make his problems someone else’s as when he was working you up into a proper fit.

It was easily the most enjoyable aspect of this arrangement so far, and he watches with nothing short of smug satisfaction as you pound your hands on the floor in pent up frustration. It was laughably easy to picture what they’d look like, well groomed after a manicure and with a fresh coat of polish on the nails. You looked like you’d probably been the sort of woman who would go with reds. Fierce and bold, as much a statement as your pretty face, which was currently scrunched up and pressed tight against the carpet in front of his tv. Those same hands were plain and unadorned now, squeezed into tight little fists that were about as harmless as they could get. Tomura probably would’ve considered a turtle more of a pressing threat than you right now.

“Crybaby.” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Does that make you feel better? Huh? Throwing a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way?”

“Mm’ not a crybaby!” You scream into the carpet. The contrast between your plushy figure and your behavior is disturbing on some very real, intrinsic level and that only seems to add fuel to his fire.

“Hah! That’s funny. You certainly look like one, you know that? What would you even think of yourself if you were in your right mind, I wonder.”

“Mm’ not!” Your incessant screeching rises in pitch and Tomura is almost positive you aren’t even really hearing him anymore, but he decides he doesn’t care.

“Embarrassing. Maybe I should have Kurogiri bring me a bottle since you want to act like a baby so much. Or would you like a pacifier instead? Hmm? Would that make you feel better, princess?”

“Nooooo!”

Your feet start kicking the air again, violently rather than in placid distraction, and the motion draws Tomura’s gaze to the seat of your onesie. Pink and humiliatingly infantile for a grown woman to be wearing, he’d looked at it with nothing short of contempt up until now. But the (no doubt exhausting) flex of your legs bunches the loose cotton, making it gather around your upturned ass and in turn emphasizes the convenient button flap across the back. Now that he’s actually looking at it, he’s almost positive it was wide enough to expose your entire rear to the world with little more than a quick snap of his fingers. Maybe even wide enough to expose other things too …

Tomura jolts with all the force of a sudden electric shock when you cry out his name or, rather, the ridiculous moniker you’d given him. He’d like to know who’d planted that particular seed in your head - if it was All for One’s idea of a twisted joke or if Kurogiri had really thought being called niichan by a woman who may or may not actually be older than him would make Tomura feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t exactly matter now, though, because the wet quality of your voice makes his cock spring up in his pants. He’s mildly horrified with himself, far more comfortable with his earlier fantasies of killing you, but there’s no helping it anymore. Not when you say his name like that. Not when the tears he’d initially thought were crocodilian at best were so thick and heavy in your throat that the syllables come out garbled and almost incomprehensible.

He’s not sure what he intends to do, but he shuffles closer.

You’ve started to tire out now and the kicking slows before stopping all together. He watches your ankles cross over one another in the air, as if you were trying to self soothe on some level by physically keeping yourself together, but it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of good. Your shoulders were still trembling with the lingering traces of your fit, and he can hear you mewling into the abrasive carpet like a wounded animal. It was clear that you were hurting because of him - and not just as a result of his teasing. After the complete and utter deconstruction of your mind, you were probably scared without even really knowing why. Confused, but too lost in the quirk induced stupor that had left you in this sorry state to seek out answers.

He hadn’t bothered to test this theory yet, but Tomura would have been willing to bet good money that All for One left you with very little inside that thick skull of yours. It just made sense, after all. For what good was a doll with memories of her past life? What would he have possibly gotten out of playing house with someone who fought him every step of the way, either out of embarrassment or repulsion towards him as a person?

No. You were a blank slate in the strictest sense. His to mold however he deemed fit and with no recollection of who you were, who you’d been or even who you’d wanted to be, he was free to do whatever he damn well pleased.

There was still raging contempt for you burning within his chest, certainly. You were an annoying, unnecessary burden on him and there was no getting around the fact that he still wanted you gone. But the spark igniting his gut is even stronger and, for better or worse, it momentarily overrides his better judgement.

So he sinks down onto his knees, directly behind you, and reaches out to tentatively palm the swell of your ass. Pinky held away, so as not to disintegrate you, which surprises him somewhat given how vivid his fantasies of killing you had been. He doesn’t get to linger on that for very long though, because you grow still at his touch and your pathetic sniveling quiets to a soft, almost hopeful sniffle. Tomura bites back a crude snort, just barely managing to catch himself before he backpedals and hisses another insult at you. He could probably take what he wanted with any given method, he didn’t have to be nice about it, but somehow the alternative just felt wrong. Physically you were an adult, but with the mental state of a child it felt a bit like taking advantage of an innocent and he wasn’t a complete monster.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word foreign on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so mean. Will you forgive me?”

You squirm and push your face further into the carpet. “Mhm.”

He doesn’t smile. But he does take that as an incentive to push forward, and he starts caressing your backside with slow, cautious circles. “Do you really want me to play with you that bad?”

“Mhm.”

Hesitating, Tomura considers his next words very carefully. “Fine. I’ll play with you. But I get to choose the game.”

You don’t immediately respond and he starts to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Overestimated his ability to be diplomatic and conscientious - which wouldn’t exactly have come as a surprise. But then you shift on the floor, tension draining from your body as you turn your head so you aren’t suffocating in the carpet anymore. “Okay.”

His brows lift in surprise only to then knit together. It was that easy? He’s not so sure he trusts it but, dropping his gaze back down to your ass, he gives the doughy soft flesh an experimental squeeze. Your only response is a soft, faltering sigh that seems to help you relax more. This, too, seems a little too good to be true but he keeps going anyway.

When a few minutes of kneading your defenseless backside does nothing to upset you, Tomura starts to get bolder. He slowly brings his opposite hand forward and latches onto the other cheek with four fingers, massaging both sides in tandem. He’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing your bare ass late the previous evening, after you’d emptied your bladder all over the blanket he’d tossed you to sleep on which had resulted in an aggressively administered bath for you and a frustrated headache for him. He hadn’t paid too much attention at the time, far too angry to be horny, but he knew enough to realize that you were unexpectedly voluptuous under that onesie.

The garment itself was so oversized it hid even the smallest hint of the womanly figure underneath. He probably would’ve forgotten all about it, pushed to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing matters (like getting rid of you) but now that he’s got his hands on your butt it’s all he can think about. The way your full tits jiggled when he’d non too gently manhandled you into the tub. The frustratingly cute lower belly pouch that bulged when you sat down, crying, on the porcelain surface. The way your thighs molded to whatever position he’d yanked them in so he could hose you off like a filthy stray. He’d actively avoided looking at what was between your legs, in fear of what he’d see as much as stubborn refusal, but looking back on it now he isn’t sure how he hadn’t given in to temptation.

Now, however, he was suddenly more interested than ever in finding out what your pussy looked like and, hooking his long index fingers into the flap, he starts to unlatch it one button at a time.

You make no move to stop him. Don’t even protest or question what he’s doing. It’s almost as if just having his attention on you is enough, and Tomura’s mouth pulls back in a sneer at the mere thought. You were so damn stupid for trusting him like this, completely oblivious or uncaring about what his intentions were. He could be as violent with you as he wanted. He could erase you from this existence with the briefest touch. But you just lay there, your shoulders slowly rising and falling with each even breath you draw, and he can’t decide if that feeling clawing at the back of his throat is hatred or guilt.

But there’s no real reason to stop now, so he carefully peels back the flap of fabric once he’s got it completely unfastened. Bare skin greets him, a perfectly exposed strip of swelling flesh that seems all the more enticing with pink cotton framing it so nicely. He pauses long enough to lick his dry, cracked lips. The weight of his stiff cock strains against the inside of his zipper, twitching eagerly when he reaches out to hesitantly touch your back side again.

The sensation of a real, living person under his fingertips makes his breath come a little faster. Still, you don’t move though and he picks up right where he left off, roughly groping your ass cheeks with barely contained excitement until he gets so vigorous that you whimper.

“Shh. I’ll try not to be so rough.” Tomura shushes you, throaty and barely more than a murmur.

You settle back into place, thankfully, and he takes that chance to spread your cheeks open. He gets a brief glimpse of the puckered hole hidden inside, white hot static racing straight to his groin, and he lets out a rumbling groan. His fingers squeeze into flesh again and he pulls, baring you entirely to his voracious eyes. The tight muscle twitches, winking at him, and his attention drops to the smallest satiny peak of your slit. He can just barely see it, mostly hidden behind the pooling fabric bunched under the swell of your ass, but it’s more than enough to make him feel dizzy.

“Shit,” he sounds winded even to his own ears. “You’ve got such a nice body.”

To his surprise, you actually perk up at that. “Really?”

Tomura almost snaps at you on impulse, so irritated by the sound of your voice that he nearly forgets what he’s trying to do. Quelling himself, though, he tugs at the bottom half of your onesie until he can see the plushy soft lips of your pussy. You look so inviting, so warm and real he can hardly even stand it.

“Really.” He croaks. “How old are you again?”

You seem to think about that. “Mm, I dunno’!”

He frowns. Contemplates that for a long beat. But the coarse hair curling around your slit seems answer enough, for him at least. You weren’t actually a child. You just sounded like one, acted like one, dressed like one. That wasn’t what was getting him so painfully hard though. It was the fact you were a woman, physically, and he’d never gotten to see one up close and personal like this before. Why hadn’t All for One just given him a proper sex slave instead of one that threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a dime? Was this really what his mentor had intended for him to do with you?

“Tomu-nii?”

Drawing a sharp breath, he brings his attention up to bark at you to be quiet but the words catch when he finds you looking at him over your shoulder. He can feel his cheeks starting to warm, suddenly embarrassed.

“What?”

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He flounders for a moment. Then, awkwardly clearing his throat, he decides to fall back on his original excuse. “This is the game I mentioned earlier. You wanted to play, right?”

You nod your head, but you don’t look entirely certain about that. “I do but … aren’t games s’posed to be fun? This is boring!”

His mouth presses into a thin line. It hadn’t occurred to him that you might not be content to just idly sit by while he molested your slutty little body, but if it was fun you wanted then he could certainly give you that. “This was just the warm up. Roll over and I’ll show you how to play.”

The way your eyes light up almost makes him regret this decision. It’s too late though, you’re already twisting over on to your back with your elbows braced on the carpet so you can stare up at him. Stupid and expectant.

He clicks his tongue.

Reaching out to grab your wide set hips with only eight of his fingers, he inelegantly drags you closer so that you were nicely slotted between his knees. Your legs curl up as you regard him with nothing short of intense curiosity, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ that very nearly sends him over the edge. You were too pretty for your own good. Much too beautiful to be wearing a pink onesie and acting like a baby. This was such a waste, and he almost feels bad for what All for One did to you.

But he shrugs it off, forcefully, and his delicately poised hands descend on your zipper. Zrrrrrt, straight down the length of your body. It stops directly above your crotch and he reaches up to reverently push the cotton out to the sides and expose the rest of you.

Your tits were even better than he’d initially thought. They were full and heavy, dotted with the most perfect little buds for nipples. Soft and smooth. Tomura’s mouth waters in anticipation and he doesn’t realize how roughly he’s jerking your arms out of the sleeves until you wail dramatically that it hurts.

He’d like to tell you what really hurts is his cock, unbearably hard and trapped inside his pants, but he refrains. Instead, he huffs out an insincere apology and keeps on yanking. He can’t get you undressed fast enough, mesmerized by the way your breasts jiggle and bounce every time he pulls on you. There’s something inherently wrong about this, he knows. It’s so damn obvious you’re not right in the head, that you aren’t of sound enough mind to even understand what he’s doing to you, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you were so willing and pliant under his shaking hands.

Finally managing to wrest the blasted onesie off your kicking feet, Tomura tosses it off to the side and he eagerly sets his sights on your naked body. You should have looked seductive and coy, spread out in front of him with a devious smile curling artfully painted lips as you invite him to have his way with you. Instead, you fitfully squirm, neither seductive nor shy. It’s clear that you have no sense of shame, your artificially infantile brain completely void of the concept and even less aware of how inappropriate any of this was. You just keep looking at him, waiting for the explanation he’d promised to give you.

Oh. That’s right. The game he kept talking about. Perhaps he could still salvage this after all.

“The rules are simple,” he says slowly, scrambling to put together a decent excuse to keep going. “I’ll touch you for a little bit and if I can make you feel good then I win. After that, it’ll be your turn. If you make me feel good, you’ll win. Understand?”

Your expression pinches in confusion. “So we both win?”

“Only if we make each other feel good. What’s wrong? You don’t want to play with me anymore?”

Much to his relief, you quickly bob your head. “I do! Please play with me, Tomu-nii!”

The way his cock jolts at that makes his entire body ache. It’s much too late to turn back now, he was well past the point of salvation, and he haltingly drags his attention down to your chest. Your petite nipples had stiffened in the cool air but it’s as if you don’t even notice. Wasn’t that something a grown woman would be conscious of? He thinks so, or at least he’s pretty sure it is. Apparently it isn’t the sort of thing a dumb baby brain even registers, though, and he reaches out to curiously flick at one.

You gasp, eyes widening slightly. Misplaced hope sears his veins and he watches you intently, holding his breath, but you don’t seem to understand what it is you’re feeling. Your brows furrow as you glance down at yourself and bring a hand up to cover your nipple.

“Oww …”

That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Or at least it wasn’t the sort of reaction Pornhub had taught him to expect, but it was still something.

“Baby.” He grumbles, reaching for the opposite tit.

“Mm’not!”

“Are too. Didn’t that feel good?”

“No!”

“Then you’re winning, aren’t you?”

Confusion marches across your face for a moment before understanding dawns. You look quite pleased now as you track the movement of his hand as he carefully pinches your puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it between the pads. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction out of you but the longer he does it the more your lips start to purse. It’s as if you were holding back, determined not to show him that you might be enjoying it and risk losing the game, but it’s enough to embolden him.

His ministrations pick up and he gives your delicate little teat a mild twist. There’s no malice or cruelty behind the action. He just wants to see what you’ll do. And you don’t disappoint, the way you jump and your mouth flies open as if to squawk making his stomach clench with something perverse. You catch yourself at the last second though, teeth clacking together as your gaze flits up at him to see if he’s looking.

He is, of course, and you forcibly swallow the sound you’d almost let out. Tomura is a bit disappointed, sure. He’d wanted to hear how pretty you’d moan for him but there were still plenty of other chances for him to coerce at least one out of you.

Hunching over your prone body, he brings his other hand up to latch onto the opposite nipple, the one he’d previously flicked. You wince at the contact but make no move to stop him, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet as you watch him play with your fat tits in petulant silence. It was ass backwards in so many ways. He’d thought, despite everything, his first time with a girl would be somewhat normal. Maybe not picture perfect or all that good when everything was said and done, but at least relatively mundane. This was the farthest thing from that though. He couldn’t conceive of a more wildly abnormal scenario even if he’d tried, nor did he recall ever seeing any porn with this hyper specific set up. But there was still some sick, twisted part of him that was deriving pleasure from this decidedly unorthodox encounter with the opposite sex, and that feeling only grows exponentially the more he keeps going.

Kneading, pinching, squeezing, tugging. He doesn’t let up until your nipples are flushed dark and straining hard, the glistening hint of tears at the corners of your eyes telling him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting somewhere. The urge to call you a crybaby swells in his chest again but he doesn’t want to risk another tantrum. He wasn’t so sure his cock could handle it, particularly not when he’d positioned himself over you in such a way that one solid kick would put him out of commission for the foreseeable future. No, this was a delicate situation that required the utmost care on his part and, gathering his nerves, he swoops down to cover one of the stiff buds with his mouth.

The heated gasp that bursts out of you in a great woosh has him groaning into the meaty swell of your tit. You shudder underneath him, involuntarily twitching as he traces your areola with the tip of his tongue and laves it in warm, wet attention. He can tell that you’re not sure what to do so he waits with bated breath, reveling in the fleshy nub pinched between his lips. There was no reason for him not to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment he could get out of this while he could, after all - but then your hands find his hair, threading into wavy locks, and he throbs for you.

“Tomu-nii …”

He practically sinks into you, damn near suffocating himself in the plushy swell of your breast. His mouth opens wide and sucks more of you past his lips, suckling enthusiastically just like the infant you were programmed to be. This particular role reversal doesn’t even seem to register in your mind though and he seethes when you tug at his hair, trying to pull him off.

“St-aaahp …. I don’t like it!”

Tomura comes up off you with a wet gasp. “Bullshit.” He practically growls, narrowing his eyes at your dopey, flustered expression.

“It’s true! I don’t!”

“Oh? Should we check then?”

Your face scrunches and you draw a breath to question him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Going back up on his knees, he plants one hand against the meat of your inner thigh and shoves it wide. His other darts between your legs before you can react, spindly digits finding your bare cunt and prodding at your folds with rough fingertips. You jolt at the contact but it’s too late. He barely has to touch you to feel the slick oozing out of you and he lets loose a harsh bark of laughter.

“My ass. You’re fucking soaked. You shouldn’t lie, you know.”

“I didn’t!” You gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. “You’re just a fucking meanie!”

That gives him pause.

Glancing up at your face, Tomura regards you carefully as he tries to figure out his next move. On one hand it was his own fault for saying that word around you so much and it’s not like it was any of his business what you did or didn’t say, but on the other … there was something uncomfortable about hearing that come out of your mouth with such a childish inflection. It lacked any and all bite, not even a hint of impotent aggression to be found. You were just parroting him, that’s all, but for whatever reason he didn’t really appreciate it.

“Don’t say that.” He huffs, turning his attention back to your pussy.

Tomura had wanted to leave it at that, but of course you have to fight him every step of the way.

“Why not?” You ask rather flippantly.

“Because i said so. If you want to get smart, be my guest. I know how to handle bratty little girls like you.”

He’s a bit surprised when that actually shuts you up. Apparently, he was starting to get the hang of this but he still has to sneak a quick peek at you just to make sure. The fact you actually look contemplative, as if you were turning that over in your empty head, almost makes him laugh.

“Do you still want to play?” God, he sorely hoped you did.

You hesitate though, unwilling to give your acquiescence just like that. “When is it my turn?” You ask warily.

“Soon. I’ve got one more chance to make you feel good and then you can try.”

“Mmm … okay. But I’m not gonna’ lose!”

He’s almost certain you would have already lost if you weren’t such a petulant little thing, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he once again turns his attention to the spot between your legs. Your puffy slit was noticeably wet, the faint sheen of fluid glistening slightly in the overhead light, and he takes a moment to gently part the curls there. Just as he’d thought. Damp to the touch and only getting wetter. He really was going to have to talk to you about lying especially since, in this particular context, you were cheating. This was a far cry from his video games but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

Swallowing his reprimand for the time being, though, Tomura carefully presses two fingers into the doughy softness of your labia and spreads them apart. He can see now that you were practically drenched in slick arousal, thin threads of discharge stretching across your petal soft folds before snapping. He gulps down his nerves. You really did have the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen and the fact it was all his for the taking very nearly had him creaming in his pants right then and there. It was almost obscene how bad he wanted to fuck your tampered brains out but he didn’t want to scare you into noncompliance. He wasn’t going to fight for this if he didn’t have to.

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings his other hand close and prods at where he thinks your clit should be. He’d certainly seen them in enough triple X videos to have some idea of where to look, but when all you do is let out a soft sigh he knows he’s mistaken.

His teeth gnash in high strung irritation as he walks his finger lower and then higher, feeling a bit like a blind fool searching for buried treasure. There were so many fleshy ridges and folds that he couldn’t pinpoint the right spot from memory alone, so he has to take his time feeling around instead. He thinks he’s found it for a split second when you shift underneath him, but then he realizes you were simply getting fussy - no doubt bored with all his incessant pawing - and that only angers him further. It shouldn’t have been this damn hard to find!

Impatient now, Tomura roughly swipes his finger up the length of your slit and surprise washes over him when you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Your head comes up off the rug and you stare at him, wide eyed, but it was much too late. He’d finally gotten the reaction out of you that he’d been hoping for, and he leans into it with nothing short of devilish delight.

Knowing precisely where to look helps a great deal and it immediately occurs to him that the reason he’d struggled so much is because your clit was still hidden behind its protective hood. But he’s got the advantage now, and he ever so carefully pinches at satiny soft skin until he can ease it back and expose the sensitive little bud nestled inside. You whimper slightly as he does it, squirming awkwardly on your back as if you could instinctively sense that you might be in a bit of trouble now. It was kind of cute, if he was being totally honest.

“I don’t think I like this game …”

“You will. Trust me.”

Clearly not believing him, you start to open your mouth to complain but he stops you cold with a quick flick of his finger. Your engorged clit jostles against the indelicate contact and you blurt out such a startled sound that he actually glances up to make sure you’re okay. Unsurprisingly, you look a little more flustered now and the panic edging your expression is almost enough to make him reconsider this.

Almost, but not quite.

“What’s the matter?” He goads, dropping his gaze back down to your pussy again. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I … I don’t …”

“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”

He does it again, gentler this time. Just a brief tap against the meaty little nub, but it’s enough to make you twitch and try to close your legs from him. Tomura won’t let you back out so easily though and he shifts even closer so he can wedge himself between your thighs to keep them spread. You issue a frustrated, huffy sound that he could only describe as babyish as you try to push up on your elbows, no doubt intending to scuttle away from him. He had to give you credit for being so hard headed even in this infantile state but he was far too invested to quit now.

Letting up his hold on your labia, Tomura directs his fingers lower and wedges three of them into your slit. You freeze, momentarily stunned, and he takes that split second opportunity to feel around for your entrance. It’s not hard to find. Much easier than your clit, at any rate, and he wastes no time wriggling a long digit up inside your body. The penetration is smooth, your guts such a slippery mess that it almost startles him.

You really were a liar.

He suddenly realizes he’s panting. At the same time, he realizes that you don’t appear to be breathing at all. Your expression is about as dumbfounded as it could be, and he dully watches the way you sway in your half upright position. Shellshocked would probably be an appropriate descriptor, and he wets his lips in anticipation.

“Well? Do you like it?”

Your legs flex around his arms and you shake your head. “Nuh … no …”

“If you don’t stop lying to me,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get mad.”

You stiffen, clearly drawing yourself up to challenge that statement just like he’d known you would. It was embarrassing how predictable you could be.

He’s had just about enough of this back and forth though, and he roughly curls his finger upward in search of the spot that would finally shut you up for good. But his efforts only make you more fussy and his patience quickly unravels when you try to twist away from him, wailing in displeasure. He hated that sound and, if you weren’t careful, he’d go right back to hating you too

Grunting, Tomura abandons your clit in favor of latching his hand onto the swell of your thigh and he digs his blunt nails in to keep you still. You actually have the audacity to kick out at him but he puts a stop to that quickly enough by shoving a second finger into your sticky cunt. Just like the first time, it makes you hesitate and he watches your warbling mouth drop open in what he thinks might be pleasure. It’s frustratingly hard to tell with you but, having no other choice, he decides to take it at face value.

Your pussy clicks loudly when he starts pumping into you straight down to the knuckle, the wet squelch almost deafening in his ears. It’s unreasonably hot though, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to commit every little detail to memory. The way your face screws up with a stuttering gasp, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and try to brace against the pressure of his digits driving into you again and again. The way you moan, even when you try not to, is particularly enticing, especially since it’s just as pretty as he’d hoped it would be. The way your legs shake and you threaten to double over, the way he can see you clutching the carpet in a death grip, the way you just seem to get even wetter for him. There was too much to take in all at once but it was also far too erotic to look away from. He really was going to cream his pants at this rate.

Somehow, your honest reaction appears to make up for all the trouble you’d given him up until now and Tomura can feel the wet spot bleeding through his boxer briefs start to grow. He was positive he’d never been harder in all his life. Animalistic and practically slobbering like a rabid dog, he hunches further over your quaking body and pistons into your cunt so vigorously his arm starts to ache. You were wailing for him to stop, crying out for Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, but he doesn’t even slow down. He can’t.

Your cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper on every plunge, gummy walls pulsating around his no doubt pruning fingers so enthusiastically that he’s sure you’re going to cum. He can practically taste it. Tomura wasn't going to stop until you did and, realizing he doesn’t have to hold onto you any longer, he reaches out to roughly shove you down on your back again.

“Are you going to cream for me, princess? Huh?” He grits out through savagely bared teeth. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No! Please, Tomu-nii … it hurts!”

Even in the heat of the moment he can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. “No it doesn’t, you big baby. You love this. I know you do. I can see it written all over your stupid, pretty face. Go on. Tell me exactly how good you feel. Do it!”

Wailing, you peer up at him through heavy lashes with a look so imploring it very nearly gives him pause. “I - I can’t! I’m … Tomu-nii, I’m gonna’ … I’m gonna’ pee!”

“No you aren’t. That just means your clo - -“

Tomura cuts himself off when you do exactly that. He’s almost too stunned to react and all he can do is watch as the steady stream of urine bursts out of you before dribbling down his wrist to soak into the carpet underneath. It’s only now, when you’re pissing all over yourself as well as him, that he finally has the decency to slow his pumping to a staggered halt. For a fleeting moment he actually considers the notion of keeping at it. There wasn’t much else you could do to ruin this for him, after all, but one look at your expression immediately quashes that idea.

He’d be lucky if all he could manage was to stop you from dissolving into ugly, heaving sobs, let alone worry about getting himself off. Dammit. You really were nothing but a pain in his ass.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He deadpans, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt now that he was thoroughly coated in warm, smelly piss. “To be honest I was kind of tired of that rug anyway. And these clothes, too.”

You hiccup so sadly that what little bit of anger had sparked inside him immediately dies out. He couldn’t even be mad at you for this no matter how much he may have wanted to blame you for everything. You’d tried to warn him.

“T- Tomu-nii … mm’sorry …”

Tomura sighs through his nose, hard enough to make the split end tips of his hair shift. “Don't be. That was my fault. Just - let me find something to clean us up with.”

“Do I have to take another bath?” You ask so meekly he almost misses it.

Pausing halfway through the motion of rising to his feet, he glances down at you again. It occurs to him quickly enough that it wasn’t the accident you were so upset about but, rather, the looming possibility of another aggressively meted out trip to the bathroom. Interesting. He’d almost think he was mistaken, it had only happened once, after all, but the way your lower lip wobbles tells him everything he needs to know. Apparently you were more scared of him than you’d let on.

“No, not right now. I think I can get you clean enough with a wet rag or something. You’ll have to take one later but,” Tomura scoffs, hating that he was actually trying to be nice after you’d peed all over him. “I’ll try not to be so rough next time. You just made me mad last night, that’s all.”

You nod slowly, looking like you don’t quite believe that, but still too naively trusting to press the matter. “Okay.”

Nodding once, Tomura climbs to his feet. The inner seam of his pants from the knee down is absolutely soaked and he makes it only three steps before deciding he didn’t like them all that much to begin with. Dropping his hand to the rough denim, he brushes all five fingers across the thigh and they dissolve into nothing without a second thought to the matter. He can faintly hear you ooohing behind him but there were much more important things to worry about than how easily impressed you were.

His half flagged cock throbs hopefully inside his boxer briefs and he reaches down to delicately adjust himself. God, he’d be aching for the next week thanks to your uncontrollable bladder.

An idea pops into his head with that thought. You weren’t the only thing he’d been saddled with yesterday, and he turns to regard the thick gym bag he’d previously thrown against the far wall in anger. It’s where he’d gotten your pink onesie after you’d similarly soiled the first pair of clothes you’d been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to look through all of its contents just yet, but he felt relatively confident he’d find what he wanted in there.

Circling back around, Tomura squats in front of the bag and yanks it open. He can feel your eyes watching him from your spot on the floor but he pays it no mind. Digging inside, he pulls out a few more articles of clothing, far too cutesy for his tastes, and then a book on child care that he knows for certain was put there in jest. Over his shoulder it gets chucked, and he digs deeper. Down at the very bottom he finds exactly what he’d been looking for.

But in addition to the baby wipes there are two other items that catch his attention. He outright balks at the very notion - however, realistically speaking, it could very well be the answer to his problems. At least the most pressing one, anyway.

The idea that All for One knew he’d likely run into this issue but still decided to dump you on him anyway bothers Tomura a great deal and he frowns even as he looks over the packaging. Diapers and pull ups. What was the difference? He’s not so sure there is one, and he feels almost certain that they serve the same purpose. But further inspection proves him wrong. One was for a total lack of control and the other was for the potty training stage, so not as thick or absorbent. That’s what the packing said but, at any rate, they definitely weren't the plain adult brands he was looking at here.

These were bright and colorful, and he can’t help but cringe at the thought of putting you in either of them. But he was still left with a very real concern that he simply couldn’t overlook. The fact he even had to make this decision at all was ridiculous but he couldn’t very well have you pissing on every available surface in his room. And given your track record of absolutely drenching whatever you happened to be sitting on at the time …

Hesitantly, Tomura takes out the diapers and shuffles towards his unkempt bed. The print on the back wasn't particularly clear about what to do with them. He’d probably have to look up a tutorial later, when he wasn’t feeling quite so downtrodden and his balls weren’t aching, though that would certainly put him on a few watch lists. Not that it really mattered.

He sighs and tosses the package on top of his sheets before tearing into the baby wipes. Taking his time, he methodically scrubs his wrist and his legs clean while he contemplates his next move. It wasn’t going to be pretty. It certainly wasn’t going to be sexy. It was still probably the lesser of two evils, though. Far be it that he wanted to go this route but did he really even have any other choice at this point?

“Tomu-nii …”

Your soft whining draws him back to reality and, abruptly realizing you’ve been sitting in your own piss this entire time, he turns to look back at you. For a split second, he seriously considers just killing you right then and there. It would save him a lot of trouble and you wouldn’t even realize what was coming. You were so stupid you’d probably think he was going in for a hug or something asinine like that. He’d be doing you a favor, really, because as far as he was concerned, death was certainly preferable to wearing diapers but … the urge fizzles out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to let you slip out of his hold until after he’d gotten to bury himself in that tight, pretty little pussy of yours.

Decision made, Tomura makes his way over to the carpet again. You look cold, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, and he bends down to grab the meat of your upper arms so he can drag you up to your feet. “Come on. I think I’ve got a solution.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Salution?”

“Close enough.”

Steering you over to the bed, he makes you bend over the mattress so he can take a baby wipe to the backs of your thighs and ass. Luckily, depending on how you looked at it, the urine had run down rather than going every which direction so it was pretty easy to clean up. The way you tremble and shift your weight back and forth makes it a bit more difficult than it needed to be but he manages, somehow.

Tomura straightens after a long moment, finally deeming the back of you good to go. He’s not so sure he can get through this next part when you were fidgeting so much, though, and he briefly considers the clothes in the gym bag. The thought of putting you in another girly, saccharine sweet garment repulses him almost as much as the thought of putting you in a diaper. But he was going to have to pick and choose his battles here and, reaching back, he delicately tugs off his t-shirt.

“Turn around.”

You slowly comply, teeth chattering the whole time.

“Arms up.”

At this, you hesitate. But at his expectantly bland look, you do as you're told and raise your arms up in the air. The lift of your heavy tits almost successfully distracts him and it is with a great deal of self control on his part that he pulls his shirt down over your head, yanking it a little too forcefully into place.

“There.” He practically hisses, watching you clumsily work your arms through the sleeves. “Is that better?”

You think about that for a moment, eyes scanning across the front of his shirt, and he briefly wonders if you’re going to say something derisive about the worn video game logo stretched across your chest. But then you smile, nodding your head a little too enthusiastically.

“Mm! It smells like Tomu-nii!”

He really couldn’t stand you.

“Good. In return, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before, you know?”

You blink at him quizzically. “Done what?”

Tomura rolls his eyes, feeling grumpier by the second. He couldn’t wait to get this over with and have you situated so he could run off to the bathroom for what probably wouldn’t even amount to five minutes of desperate jerking. “Never mind. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

You nod your head again, but he has some very real doubts about that. Even when you were pretending to go along with whatever it was he wanted you still found some way to fuck everything up for him. If this scheme somehow backfired because your brain was so scrambled you couldn’t even follow simple directions, he was not going to be happy.

Mentally bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, he reaches for the diapers. He rips the bag open almost violently and pulls one out, but it feels even more wrong in his hands than he’d thought it would. A strange sense of scandalized affront warms his chest, making him reconsider this choice for the upteenth time. If Tomura was being completely honest, he felt embarrassed for you but a quick glance in your direction proves that you don’t share quite the same sentiment. You really couldn’t have cared less, huh?

Right. Baby brain.

He grumbles under his breath as he non too gently snaps the diaper open with a loud crinkle of plastic and lays it out close to the edge of his bed. Motioning you closer, Tomura awkwardly helps you get seated on the damn thing and then instructs you to lay down. You genuinely don’t seem to have a problem with this as you recline back, just placidly peering up at him with your little fists balled in the hem of his shirt, but now that he’s gotten this far he’s not sure how to proceed.

At a loss, he takes another baby wipe out of the package and inserts himself between your bent legs. “I’m going to clean you some more, okay?” He's not sure why he’s telling you that, especially when all you do is nod your dopey head in understanding. Just buying time. That’s all he was doing.

But it gives him a chance to think and for that he’s grateful. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure out what All for One’s intention with all this had been. ‘A splendid birthday present for my favorite pupil’, he’d said, as if there were any others. But what was the reason? Surely you weren’t actually supposed to be a sex slave for him. Not in this sorry state. His battered onahole did a much better job on that front and it wasn’t prone to tantrums or crying, and it certainly didn’t pee on his stuff. It also didn’t require more than a perfunctory cleaning every few months. He couldn’t very well shove you into his nightstand and forget about it until the next time he was in the mood to rut into something.

All that was true, yes, but … his onahole also wasn’t warm to the touch, and it didn’t have soft, curly hair framing its abused slit (he really should buy a new one) nor did it self lubricate. It didn’t squeeze him quite the same way your pussy had squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t even really feel like an actual vagina now that he had something to compare it to. You were soft and squishy, pliable in the way only flesh and blood could be, and although he had no way of knowing if this had been All for One’s plan or not, he was certainly self aware enough to recognize that he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.

Tomura absolutely should have turned you to dust while he still had the chance.

Licking his lips, he drags the wipe through the seam of your cunt much more slowly than he needed to. You don’t even stir on the bed, and he thinks you must be starting to doze after … all of that. He’s not quite ready to leave well enough alone yet though, and he gently presses down on the spot where he now knows your clit is hiding. Still using the moist towelette as a pretense to keep touching you like this, he circles the sensitive little bud with it and genuine surprise washes over him when you let out a soft, pleasant sigh.

He glances up at your face but you aren’t even looking at him, lashes fanned out against the apples of your cheeks. It’s hard to tell if you were actually asleep or just pretending so you could lull him into a false sense of security, yet he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. You were his so he could do whatever he wanted to you, right? Besides. You kind of owed him after pissing all over his hand like that.

Discarding the baby wipe, Tomura bends closer and carefully spreads your labia again. He could see your little hole weakly palpitating, beckoning him to pick back up where he’d left off, but he drags his gaze a bit higher instead. You were so velvety soft and smooth it bordered on insane, so much more inviting than he ever would have thought possible.

He briefly hesitates before throwing caution aside and sealing his lips around your clit, gently mouthing at it. Your plushy thighs twitch around his head as you shift on top of the mattress, letting out another breathy sound that rushes straight to his cock. It almost hurts, the way it so eagerly springs back to life after being denied something as simple as release, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. You were giving him another chance, knowingly or not, and he wasn’t the type to squander such an opportunity.

Tomura takes his time lapping at you over the next few minutes until you’re almost as wet as when he’d started. You taste heavenly even with the artificial flavor of the wipes clinging to your folds and he entertains the notion of eating you out until you cum all over his face. There’s something he wants even more than that, though, and he sighs in relief when he finally straightens up so he can fish his cock out. It was almost painfully sensitive to the touch, and he could feel it throbbing potently in his hand. He knew this probably wasn’t going to last long but he didn’t care.

Guiding himself to your waiting entrance, he slowly pushes in one fraction at a time, damn near blowing his load the second his glans disappears into your body. He holds back though, struggling to maintain his composure as he seethes through gritted teeth. You finally seemed to realize that something was going on and your pretty eyes flutter open, immediately searching out his face.

“Tomu-nii …?”

“Be quiet. I’ve got you.”

You accept that in lieu of an explanation surprisingly fast, at least by his standards, and without another word you sleepily glance down at the juncture where your bodies were connected. A slow inhale makes your chest rise, mouth falling open as if to groan. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” the sound rattles out of Tomura’s chest as he slides in right down to the base, toes flexing against the floor. “I’m not even gonna’ get to enjoy this.”

Brows knitting together, you let out the softest mewling sound he’s ever heard and it makes him dig his carefully poised fingers deeper into the meat of your hips. He can’t even bring himself to move, so overwhelmed by how soft and wet your guts are. It felt like you were massaging his length, involuntarily or not, as your pussy suckles at the tip like he’s almost positive your mouth would.

Softly wheezing, Tomura drops his chin to look at where the two of you were stuck together. His pelvis was so flush against yours that your pudgy cunt was molded to the front of him, squishing under the pressure, and his silvery pubes were tangled with your darker ones. He hadn’t expected such a sight to be so damn erotic and it has him twitching, fighting back the orgasm he’d gone through hell and back for.

He’s almost scared to do it but, slowly, he eases back. The way his cock gradually reappears, glistening obscenely now, very nearly sends him over the edge. He isn’t sure how he hasn’t ruptured yet, his ballsac drawn so tight and throbbing that it leaves him feeling lightheaded, but through sheer force of will alone he manages to sink back into the inviting heat of your body without spraying your insides white. His self control was tentative as best, hanging on by a mere thread, but you felt far too good to waste on a quick nut.

“Goddamn … you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight.”

You fidget underneath him, fussily tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Mm’ not a baby …”

Your pouty little response is enough to make him bark out a clipped laugh, more breathless than amused. You could insist you weren’t a baby all you wanted but, even putting aside the cruel, infantile reprogramming of your brain, it was hard to think otherwise when you were spread out on top of a diaper. It’s stark white, cottony lining was an almost unsettling backdrop to the perfect view he had of his cock stuttering in and out of your slick cunt. Even when he was barely moving, it crinkled softly underneath you with each rocking motion of his hips and he couldn’t quite forget it was there no matter how hard he tried.

Tomura wasn’t sure what he would ultimately do with you and he knew even less why he was even entertaining this wildly absurd situation to begin with, but there was no denying that you did have some use. The clinging grip of your pussy, for starters, and if he could get that bratty mouth of yours under control he might even some day find your company bearable. He still didn’t particularly like you but it wasn’t so farfetched to think that he might be able to tolerate you, with enough effort.

Hissing through his teeth, he drags one of his hands down to spread your puffy lips apart and get a good look at the way your petal soft folds clutch to his cock. It was a mesmerizing visual in the worst possible way, especially when accompanied by the soft, wet clicking he pulls from your body. He could have watched this for hours on end but, realistically, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he gives his wrist a brief twist to bring the middle finger down on your clit.

You twitch at the contact but Tomura takes a much more gentle approach this time, sedately drawing circles around the swollen bud. He doesn’t get much in the way of a reaction for his trouble so he just keeps at it, rubbing you in tandem with his staggered thrusts. The thought of making you cum around his cock is almost disturbingly enticing, but he isn’t so sure he can accomplish that. Not when so much of his focus was devoted to simply biting back his orgasm - but then, to his throbbing surprise, you draw a faltering breath.

“Tomu-nii … feels good …”

It’s as if the air had been punched right out of him. He isn't so sure he even believes his own ears, the blood suddenly pounding inside of them making it hard to hear much of anything. He groans though, thick and heavy as he slides his other hand up across your stomach to push at the bottom of his shirt. Your grip on the soft cotton momentarily tightens, still fighting him at every turn, but you give in almost immediately and allow him to shove it over the swell of your tits.

They’re moving, jiggling ever so slightly with the push and pull of his narrow hips as they quietly slap against the backs of your thighs. Tomura heaves, practically doubling over you with another throaty moan that rises in pitch at the tail end. His palm descends on one of your breasts, squeezing hard enough that the pliable flesh bulges and spills out between four of his fingers. You just stare up at him the entire time, face pinched and flushed while your glistening eyes dreamily watch him with a far off sort of quality that he’s sure must be - has to be pleasure.

He’d never seen anything sexier in his whole life, and that thought alone is far more terrifying than he could have ever guessed it would be. There was something wrong with you, yes, by All for One’s design. But there was something even more inherently wrong with him for getting off on this so much and without the added bonus of quirk tampering to excuse his behavior. You were so sweet and unfairly innocent despite your seductive figure, the sight of you naked save his bunched up t-shirt driving him absolutely wild. It was like you belonged here, with him, in his bed. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted to kill you but that he couldn’t.

What little bit of self control he’d still been clinging to up until now shatters, and Tomura snaps his hips into your upturned ass: once, twice, three times. The sticky squelching between your bodies increases in volume, echoing inside his skull like a ricocheting bullet as he watches your face screw up at the sudden force. It doesn’t even matter though. He’s long since reached his limit and, with a wounded grunt, he slams into you one final time, lurching over your prone body.

The sound that comes out of his mouth as he shudders and violently paints your pink guts is, frankly, embarrassing. But he’s riding a high too great to care, clinging to you hard enough to make his joints ache and you whimper in discomfort. He can’t stop though. He’s cumming so hard, pulse after pulse, that it feels like his soul actually slips out of his body for a worryingly long beat before returning in fragmented pieces. The same, but also somehow different. Like he’d experienced rebirth in the warm, comforting clutch of your drenched cunt.

He wheezes as if he’d been stabbed in the chest when he finally eases his softening cock out of you some time later.

Tomura was completely spent, both physically and mentally. His wobbly legs could hardly support his weight anymore but, with a strength of mind he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he directs a shaky finger to your clit again. You squirm in response, huffing after that rough treatment, but he soothes you with hushed words and a gentle touch to the delicate little pearl he barely even needs to brush against to have you shaking for him.

“Relax. You feel good, don’t you? Let me hear those pretty sounds again, baby.”

Obstinately, you purse your lips together to deny him even that one simple request. Tomura heaves a tired sigh, wishing you weren’t such a brat, but he doesn’t let up. The gentle circles he rubs into your clit with the pad of his finger slowly brings you around though, grudgingly, and he can’t quite deny the satisfaction that sparks in his throat when your mouth warbles open to let loose the sweetest, tiny moan he’s ever heard.

“Nngh … Tomu-nii …!”

“Don't fight it. I want you to feel good too, yknow.” He pauses, tongue glancing over his dry lips. “Will you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, eyes screwing shut, but the way your body continues to tense up seems to suggest otherwise. He could tell you were practically thrumming with it, burning from the inside out even as his milky white discharge slowly oozes down your slit to pool in the seat of the diaper. It was unexpectedly exciting to watch, disproportionately naughty given how utterly unappealing the crinkly plastic was at first glance, and he picks up the pace of his rubbing.

“I think you’re lying again. You liked how it felt when I was inside you, right? This will be even better, I promise. You’ll love it. I know you will.”

Weakly writhing on top of his bed, you crack your eyes open to peer up at him again. “T - Tomu-nii … I can’t … ahh. Ahh. Ahh! I … I’m … ahh! Tomu-niiiii!”

You suddenly jerk, tossing your head back against the sheets, and he watches in rapt fascination as you quake so hard it nearly catches him off guard. It wasn’t the seductive, rolling tremors he was used to seeing in porn videos but, rather, a full bodied spasm that had you twisting as if to get away. Your thighs try to clamp shut around his hand but he elbows them apart, refusing to let up until he’d milked your orgasm as thoroughly as you’d milked his.

And you looked so pretty, too. Caught up in mind numbing pleasure so intense he couldn’t even begin to fathom what you were feeling. Even his own earth shattering release seemed to pale in comparison to this, and it takes you much longer to start coming down from it than it did him.

Your hair is a mess by the time you’re done, matted in some places and sticking to your damp forehead in others. For a fleeting moment, Tomura can almost see the adult woman you should have been when your face goes slack in ecstasy and your flushed lips were parted to suck in as much oxygen as you could get. He imagines you were probably no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, not with that body and those looks, so the thought that he could make you feel this good was a bit like a pat on the back for him. It was probably just beginners luck, but that didn’t stop him from feeling any less proud of himself.

Slowly, he takes his hands off you and steps back. The spot between your legs was absolutely covered in fluid, your sticky, copious slick mixing with his spunk to make a truly viscous concoction that clung to your damp curls. He thinks that he should probably clean you up again and reaches for the baby wipes, but stops himself short.

The idea that crosses his mind is very likely foul, perhaps even more offensive than anything else he’d done til now, but … a quick glance at your sloppy pussy proves too great a temptation. There was something inherently erotic about making you walk around with his semen dripping out of you, even if it was only going to be absorbed by the diaper, and he shuffles close again with his heart in his throat.

Tomura hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s doing and it takes him a long moment to figure out the tape tabs on the sides. He gets frustrated halfway through the process, struggling to make sure the crinkly plastic was secure enough around your waist, but by some miracle you stay relatively still through all of his fumbling. He isn’t quite sure how he got so lucky but he doesn’t stop to question it, hawkishly focusing all of his attention on the task at hand.

At length, he straightens to admire his work. It’s not perfect by any means but he’s pretty sure the damned thing wasn’t going to fall off as soon as you stood up so there was that. The diaper itself was just as obnoxiously girly as everything else in the gym bag; a soft, lilac purple with a flowery, cartoon bunny design on them. He didn’t mind the rabbits so much, and it was certainly preferable to the onesie, but he still thought you’d look nice in something a bit cooler.

The realization that he was thinking about this in such quaint, fuzzy terms chills Tomura to the bone, and his gaze flicks to your face so he can ask what you think of them. Even if only to distract himself from his own uncomfortably perverse change of heart.

But you were already asleep. He probably should have expected as much, and he could tell you were actually snoozing this time by the shallow, even rise and fall of your chest. A strange sense of embarrassment washes over him and he reaches out to delicately take the hem of his shirt between thumb and finger so he can tug it back down into place. You only snuggle further into the mattress though, getting comfortable, and further cementing the notion that he had, indeed, fucked up.

He’d never be able to get rid of you now.

Grumbling under his breath, Tomura leans over you with one hand braced on the mattress. The other slips between your legs, unable to squeeze shut now with the bulk of the diaper between them, and ever so carefully cups his palm over your crotch. It was cool to the touch, but if he pushed down hard enough he could feel the warmth of your body bleeding through. You let out a quiet huff in response, petulant towards him even in your sleep, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing. It was absurd. It was strange. It was strikingly, unequivocally weird, but he was almost glad he hadn’t disintegrated you or strangled you to death.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d wished for a woman he could do with as he pleased and not have to worry about her running away, but … it was close enough, he supposed.

[wizardofahz]

Fulfilling the Lie

A/N: I cannot get the idea of Alex with a skittish biter of a cat out of my head (thank you, Kara), so here we go.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alex pulls into the parking lot of the animal shelter. 

Kara had asked Alex to come, specifically in her car, not on her motorcycle, and Alex wonders if Kara had gone there to do research for a fluff piece, been stuck with a well-meaning worker, who wouldn’t let her sneak off to fly away, and had therefore been forced to ask Alex for a ride. 

But Kara is standing outside the front doors all alone, waving for Alex to get out of the car.

Alex parks and does as requested. 

“Hey, do you need a ride or something?” she asks as she approaches even though that no longer seems like a plausible reason for her presence.

“No,” Kara says, confirming her suspicions. “Or well, I won’t be the one needing a ride.”

That response provides more questions than answers. Alex settles with a simple, “What?”

And then Kara is gushing words, rambling, telling Alex about having to get away from William for Supergirl business–Alex quickly looks around to make sure no one’s around to overhear–and maybe, just maybe, she made up this one eensy-weensy, teenie-weenie, little lie about needing to look after her sister’s cat, who William definitely couldn’t meet because he’s shy and tends to bite when he's feeling skittish. Only now William’s on forced R&R on account of being shot, and he’s still insisting he’s great with cats, and maybe getting to meet Alex’s cat will make him feel better.

Alex feels her eyebrows geting closer and closer with every word as her brow furrows with consternation. “So you’re making me get a cat because you’re a terrible liar?”

“No!” Kara insists hastily. “Not making you get a cat... per se. More like, giving you the opportunity to get a cat.”

Alex looks at her very earnest little sister and sighs. “I’m not getting a cat,” she says in the plainest terms possible.

“You don’t know that,” Kara responds, as stubborn as ever. “You could fall in love with one today. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?”

“Kelly is allergic to cats,” Alex says. There it is, her winning hand.

“But she’s not as deathly allergic to them as she is to blueberries,” Kara responds immediately. “I already asked, and I know a bunch of people who are allergic to cats but own one.”

“Kara.” Alex takes a breath, allowing herself a moment to put how ridiculous this all is into words. “For this to work, I can’t just get any cat. I have to get a skittish cat who bites.”

Somehow Kara does not see this as a problem. “Not really! William said he’s good with cats. We can just pretend that your nice cat is being nice for him.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Alex hums skeptically.

But when Kara gets an idea, she is an unstoppable force. Alex knows this well and lets herself be led into the shelter with little resistance.

Kara tells the volunteer at the front desk that they’re interested in getting a cat– interesting word choice, Alex thinks considering only one of them will be the new potentional owner–and they’re soon led to the cat wing. Kara takes her time at every cage, cooing over the cats and telling them how cute they are. The volunteer stays with Kara, indulging her with stories about each one despite the fact that each has a little write up about them on their cage doors.

Alex strolls down the corridor without pause, eyes bouncing back and forth to glance at the cages on both sides. The cats get progressively older as if the shelter knows they’re less likely to be adopted and doesn’t want to force people to walk farther than they need to.

One of the cats at the end is definitely not as old as its neighbors. The black cat is tiny, scrawny and disheveled, and huddling at the back of the cage. The write up reveals that it is estimated to be about a year old but not much else. The tiny cat growls at her.

Alex hitches a shoulder against the wall. “I know. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” she tells it.

The cat growls again, louder this time.

“I’m not getting a cat.”

The cat hisses.

Alex takes it as a sign of agreement. “This is a farce,” she continues as she watches Kara slowly make her way down the corridor. 

The cat inches forward.

“I mean, you guys are great and everything, but what am I supposed to do with a cat?”

Another hiss.

“I can’t even get my life together enough to finalize an adoption.”

The cat inches forward again.

“Not that there’s any rush.”

A small mewling sound.

“Besides, this is still a big decision. I can’t do something like this on a whim because Kara is a terrible liar.”

The cat is at the front of the cage now.

“You guys deserve better than that.”

Tiny claws begin scratching furiously at the door. Alex looks on unfazed. She’s experienced scarier with upset DEO prisoners.

The cat stills and stares at her.

Kara and the volunteer finally reach the end of the corridor. Kara frowns at the nondescript write up for the cat Alex has been talking to and asks about it.

“Oh, someone found this little guy in the streets a few months ago,” the volunteer says. “Judging by his size, he was probably the runt of the litter. He’s a feisty little thing.”

As if on cue, the cat begins scratching furiously at the door again.

“Anyway,” the volunteer continues dismissively as if a mere three sentences about this particular cat is bordering on too many, “we have a play area where you can spend some time with any of the cats you’re interested in, you know, to make sure they’re a good fit.”

Kara turns to Alex. “What do you think?”

Something about the volunteer’s tone rubs Alex the wrong way, so she says, “This one.”

Kara merely tilts her head, but the volunteer nearly balks. “What?”

“This one,” Alex repeats.

The cat growls and swipes a paw through the cage door.

“Uhh, okay,” the volunteer says slowly, appearing to draw out the words to give Alex time to change her mind. When she doesn’t, the volunteer sighs. “I’ll get this little guy into a carrier. Why don’t you guys go ahead to the play room? It’s back the way we came in and then two lefts. I’ll meet you there.”

Alex and Kara walk back down the corridor. Behind them prolonged hissing and some muffled expletives mix together, and Kara asks, “Are you sure about this?”

Alex shrugs. “About getting him? No. But I figured he deserves the chance to get out of the cage for a little bit. Besides, he doesn’t remind you of Streaky?”

“Lookwise, maybe,” Kara says, “but personality? Nope.”

The wait time is longer than they expect, but when the volunteer finally arrives, it’s apparent why. He has a grimace on his face and scratches on his hands and forearms. He releases the cat by Alex and Kara and then quickly retreats to the other end of the room.

The cat looks equally upset, though that seems to be his typical expression. Kara reaches out but quickly recoils when the cat swipes a paw at her. She tries a few more times, cooing reassuring phrases, to no avail.

Alex makes no attempt to touch the cat. She sits back and watches. It’s not a very big space, and the cat seems to realize Alex is the least likely person to bother him. He slinks around her and settles into the corner. 

Alex is content to let him be. Kara follows her lead and makes no further attempts at petting him. They start up a conversation, mostly reminiscing about Streaky.

The volunteer transitions from upset to bored. When he approaches them, the cat hisses and moves, so that Alex is directly between them.

“So what do you think?” the volunteer asks.

Alex may not like his attitude, but she understands that getting scratched repeatedly by an angry cat is not the fun part of his job. “That was great. Thanks,” she says. “But I’m not sure if he’s the one for me.”

Her mind begins to change when she heads for the door. The cat follows her, and like before, he seems to orient himself so that she’s always between him and the volunteer.

Alex looks down at the cat. Then she glances at Kara. They’re not that different in a way, Alex thinks. The cat probably just needs a little love, patience, and understanding. If she could handle a newly arrived Kryptonian, who didn’t know how to control her powers and was prone to spontaneous heat vision bursts when she was upset, Alex figures she can handle a feral rescue with sharp claws and pointy teeth.

“Actually–” Alex crouches down to look the cat in the eyes. “–what do you say? Do you want to come home with me?” She doesn’t receive a hiss or a swipe to the face, which she takes as a yes. She looks up at the volunteer. “I’ll take him.”

Kara’s grin is the very definition of smug.

“What?”

“I was so right about the type of cat you’d pick.”

...

“Alex.”

“Hmm?”

“Alex.”

The more insistent tone in Kara’s voice finally has Alex turning away from the kitchen counter where she’s preparing snacks for movie night. Kara is grateful for the snacks, but at the moment she has another problem.

“Your cat is using me as a scratching post.”

Alex watches Grim for a moment before saying, “Better you than the furniture, I guess.”

It’s been two weeks since Alex got Grim. She had chosen the name based on his black fur coat and his ability to strike fear in the hearts of anyone who isn’t Alex or Kara. Honestly Kara doesn’t know why she expected anything else.

“Thanks, I’m really feeling the love,” Kara snarks. “I don’t mind really, but it’s gonna be weird when we’re around someone who doesn’t know I’m Supergirl. I should be bleeding, you know.”

Alex smirks and then returns to preparing snacks. “Well, you need to learn to set proper boundaries. You let him get away with scratching you, so he’s gonna keep doing it.”

“It’s the only time he lets me near him,” Kara whines.

Alex brings two bowls–popcorn and trail mix–and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s to the couch. “Kara, that’s not the basis for a healthy relationship.” 

Kara helps Alex lay everything out on the coffee table. The moment Alex sits, Grim relocates to her other side, curling into her body. Alex places the popcorn bowl in her lap. Kara grabs the tub of ice cream.

“He’ll warm up to you,” Alex says, scratching Grim’s neck. “It took me a while too, remember? Now look at us.”

“Uh huh,” Kara says skeptically. “How’re Grim and Kelly getting along?”

“Oh.” Alex’s face falls. “Uh, I started going to Kelly’s place more. Kelly thought she’d be fine if she gave him space and took her allergy meds, but Grim’s kinda territorial, especially around me.”

Kara reaches for some popcorn and ends up with a cat instead. 

“You don’t say,” she says as she holds up her hand. Grim dangles from her fingers, latched on only with a determined bite. His paws swipe at Kara’s wrist and forearm. “You know what? I cannot do this to William. He can’t meet Grim. He'll shred him apart.”

Alex shoots Kara an exasperated look. “Let me get this straight. You made me get a cat, so that William could meet him, but now you’re refusing to let them meet?”

Kara smiles sheepishly. “At least you got a cat out of it?”

[alluremin]

the bad in each other | 1

pairing | jeon jungkook x female reader

genre | zombie apocalypse au

premise |  A year after the world goes to hell, you find yourself still alive by the grace of whatever watched over you. You’ve seen people you care about being torn to shreds before your eyes. You’ve seen horrors that, before the infection struck, you couldn’t have imagined. The place you once knew, called home, was gone. All that remained were the mindless dead and humans who had lost their humanity. Now, you can do nothing but protect those you love, no matter the cost.

warnings |  angst, extreme violence, smut (future parts), swearing, alcohol use

word count | 5.1k

parts |  intro  • one  •  two  •  three  •  ?

playlist | inspo | character profiles

Their screams play on a loop in your brain. The smell of rotting flesh and gun smoke refuse to leave your nose. Jae’s footsteps crunch the fallen leaves on the ground, Kate briefly stumbles over a broken the railroad tie covered by the dead foliage. It’s been three days since it happened.

****

You, Jae, and Kate have been with a community since the start. Everybody called it “Safe Haven”, and it was just that. The large walls surrounding the rustic cabins and the fertile soil made for a sustainable community. Children, like Jae, laughed and played, all the while learning the ways of the new world. You all thought that you were safe from harm, from the dead, but you thought wrong. It was three days ago when a horde heard those laughing children inside your community walls and knocked them from their foundation. It’s been three days since nearly everybody you knew and love died right before your eyes, and you did nothing to help.

Jae and his mother came to the community a couple weeks after you and Kate. She was sick and without proper treatment, wouldn’t last the year. There weren’t a lot of you back then, the original members of Safe Haven were mostly men, hunters who lived their lives in the woods. Then there was you and Kate, med students who soon became healers in the community. Then there was Jae and his mother. You spent a lot of time with the, now 13-year-old, and his mom. She deteriorated quickly without her treatment, and a month after their arrival she passed. You had to take care of her after she was gone, you had learned what happened to people after they died, and Jae didn’t deserve to see her come back as one of them. Afterward, you took him under your wing and taught him all he needed to know, you promised his mom that you would.

****

You could feel your body swaying as you walked. When the three of you fled, you didn’t have time to fill your canteens or grab any food. You just grabbed your emergency backpacks and ran until the screams were far behind you. Exhaustion crept its way into your brain and everything around you went in and out of focus. Sounds are muffled, almost as if you were underwater. You don’t remember the last time you had a drink of water, slept, or eaten. Kate constantly questioned you if you had eaten any of the little food in your supply or if you’d even had a sip of the water in your canteen. You lied to her, you didn’t want her to worry about you on top of everything that you all had been through. In reality, you gave the last of your water and food to Jae, insisting that he take it, telling him that you had already had enough for yourself. You hadn’t.

Your head felt heavy, your feet starting to drag underneath you. It felt like there were cement blocks under your feet. The ground beneath you felt like it was spinning, causing you to stumble. You drop to one of your knees then and clutch the side of your head, shooting pain in your temple signaling you that something was wrong. Medical school, although you had only been in your first year, had taught you enough to know that you were battling the effects of dehydration.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Jae, who was no more than a step behind you, crouches next to you and put a hand on your shoulder. His question prompts Kate to stop dead in her tracks and spin to face you.

“Oh shit, kid, what’s wrong?” You tried to giggle at her nickname she insisted on using all the time, but instead, only a heave of air comes out of your mouth. “Fuck, Jae do you have any water left?” He shakes his head in response. You close your eyes but are met with a slap on your cheek from your best friend. You knew what she was trying to do, keep you awake, keep you moving. Regardless of how hard you tried, you can’t keep your lids open, they felt heavier than cement below your brows. Under each of your elbows, you felt an arm lifting your body, Jae obviously on your right, he was shorter than Kate. You use all of your strength to move each of your legs, but it was as if you were wearing lead shoes. Black spots appeared in your limited vision, you could feel your legs give out beneath you. You could barely hear the muffled voices of the people carrying you, and you swore in the distance you could see figures approaching. You didn’t have enough time to determine if they were alive or dead before the world went black.

****

It felt as if the world had ceased to exist and you were just floating through nothingness. Every now and then, you’d catch small bits of conversation and brief flashes of light, but none that could tell you where you were. Maybe this is what happens after you die, your subconscious trying to piece together bits of information from your life. The medical side of you says that this is impossible, but who knows, maybe there is something after death. You hope that you’ll see your family again.

As quickly as the calm overtook your brain when you blacked out, did it go away. A loud ringing in your ears jolts your mind back down to Earth and a pounding headache replaces the subspace you were in not seconds before. All at once, every part of your body starts working again and when you open your eyes and are met with a wooden ceiling, you sit up as fast as your body will allow. This not only causes your headache to intensify but also brings about a headrush unlike any you had ever experienced.

“Whoa, not so fast,” a male voice you don’t recognize is accompanied by a push to your shoulder. “You’ve been out for three days, take it easy.”

You crack one eye open as the man presses your shoulders into the cushions of a couch beneath you. Not caring that moment for pleasantries, you swat his hands away from your body. This man was a stranger. “Jae? Kate?” Your hoarse voice yelps to your “family”, hoping that one of them would respond. In the corner of the room, a floorboard creaks, drawing your attention in that general direction. Jae stands and you meet his eyes as he runs over to you, falling on his knees in front of you and putting you in a crushing embrace. The strength in his scrawny body still surprises, but right now you don’t have the mental energy to tease him for it.

“I thought you were gonna’ die, y/n. You scared the shit out of me!” You pull back from him and move to sit up again, using the back of the couch to support your still weak body.

“Watch your mouth, Squirt,” you tease. The man standing next to you clears his throat, making his presence known.

“I’m Seokjin. My brother and I were out checking our rabbit traps when we saw you guys. Jae and Kate were trying to carry you, so I insisted to Jungook that we help you.”

“Uh, I’m y/n, but you probably already knew that… did you say three days?”

“Yeah, we’ve been spoon feeding you water and soup for the past couple of days. Every now and then you’d be conscious enough for us to get you some fluids, you know, without drowning you,” he sits down on the couch next to you, it’s the first time you take in his appearance. Seokjin’s hair is black, messy, and wavy. It almost looks as if he had been giving himself half-assed haircuts for the last year. He was wearing a simple grey t-shirt with a blue zip-up hoodie and a pair of black jeans. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing shoes and upon wiggling your toes, you found that you weren’t either.

“Thank you, um, Seokjin. Where’s Kate?” You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for everything this guy had done for you, but your best friend’s absence was panic-inducing.

“She and Jungkook went out to get wood for the fireplace. They’ll be back in a couple minutes.” His eyes met your own and he offered you a small small, You reciprocated to the best of your ability then broke eye-contact to take in your surroundings. Everything in the room was made of wood, so you deducted that you were in a cabin. From the small window to your right, you could tell you were still in the woods and the light flooding in told you it was daytime.

Jae had since moved from his spot on the floor to sit next to you on the couch. You put your arm around his shoulder and ran your fingers through his long hair, knowing that it was soothing for him. Ever since his mom had passed, you had used it to comfort him when he was upset. You could tell that the past six days were hard on him. First with what happened at Safe Haven, then with you. The bags under his eyes told you all you needed to know. He had ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’ on his lap. You found the book for him a few months back, but you were surprised to know it was one of the things he grabbed when you escaped from the horde. “Hey Jae, how much sleep have you gotten?” You questioned him.

“I’m not sure, not knowing what was gonna happen, I dunno’ it was hard to sleep,” he dropped his head and you pulled him into another hug. You let go of him them and stretch your stiff limbs and crack your neck, alleviating some of the pressure off of your body.

“It totally slipped my mind, but can I get you something? Water, food?” Seokjin stands and walks around the side of the couch to the kitchen behind you.

“Oh, actually do you know if there’s any ibuprofen or tylenol around here? Kate usually carried some in her bag. My head is just pounding,” you smile sheepishly at him, feeling guilty for asking more from him when he and his brother had already done so much for you.

“I can get it for you,” Jae announces. You smile at him as he scampers off to the corner of the room where all of your bags are stacked together. A tap on your shoulder alerts you to Seokjin’s presence behind you, offering you a bottle of water. A smile graces your lips as you take it out of his hands, grateful for his thoughtfulness. Jae returns to your side with a bottle of acetaminophen. You pop the lid off and pour four tablets into your palm, throwing them down your throat and gulping the water to chase the dry tablets.

“Isn’t four tablets a bit much?” Seokjin questions you, sitting down in a chair next to the couch.

“Overdosing on tylenol is the least of my concerns when it feels like my head is going-” You don’t get to finish your sentence when the front door to the cabin swings open at full force. A boy, no a man, who appears about your age, bursts his way into the cabin. The sound of the door slamming against the wall sends a splitting pain through your head, and you can’t help the glare that graces you face at that moment.

“Oh. You’re awake… it’s about damn time.” You can already tell that this guy is going to be peachy. Looking forward, you can already tell your future conversations with him aren’t going to go well.

You don’t have time to respond to him when Kate barrels into the apartment, dropping the firewood she was carrying outside the door and throws herself on top of you, crushing you in a bear hug. “You scared the shit out of me, kid. Don’t ever neglect yourself like that again or I’ll kick your ass, got it?” You can’t help but laugh at her empty threat.

“I love you too, Scooter.” She pulls back then, giving you an opportunity to turn your attention back to the boy in the doorway. He was closing the doorway, but you could tell he was doing everything in his power to avoid your eye contact. He sets the ax in his hands up against the door and drops his shoulder to remove the leather jacket adorning his body. You visibly gulp at the sheer size of the muscles on his arms and back. Not to mention the sheer amount of ink the covered his arms was not only impressive but also incredibly alluring. He turns around then, catching you gawking at the sheer amount of tattoos covering his body. He only scoffs and rolls his eyes. Peachy.

“Jungkook, I’m presuming?” You push underneath you on the couch then and stand to greet him. He only raises an eyebrow at you and offers a quick nod when you meet his eyes. “I just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

“Yeah, well, since taking you in our food supply is running low. The last thing I want to hear from you right now is a thank you considering-”

“Jungkook, knock it off,” Seokjin stands from his spot on the couch then, but his mediation doesn’t stop your anger from rising.

“Listen, I’m trying to express my gratitude toward you guys. You don't have to be an asshole about it,” You sway your weight to one of your hips and cross your arms. You can hear Jae let out a small chuckle at your snarky remark and actions.

“Hey, this isn’t funny kid, we’re all going to starve if we don’t go out for a supply run soon!” He barely gets the sentence out before you’ve grabbed onto the front of his shirt and pulled him down so that he’s eye level with you.

“Say what you want to me, but don’t you ever, take to him like that,” you release your grip on his shirt and push him backward before walking back to the couch to sit with Jae and Kate. Seokjin slowly sinks back onto the chair as he walks Jungkook stomp down the hallway. The sound of a door slamming meets your ears and you sigh in discontent. That went well.

****

Over the course of the next 24 hours, you had become well acquainted with Seokjin. You could tell that he was a good person and always did his best to lighten to mood. Under the circumstances, some people might say that he was deliriously avoiding the realities of the world, but his antics were understandable. The jokes, the childish behavior; it wasn’t to avoid the problems that plagued the planet, it was to keep himself sane. He had that effect on others too. It had only been a week since you lost your home, but with Seokjin’s presence, coping became easier. You could tell it did the same for Kate and Jae.

Jungkook hadn’t left his room until the morning after your altercation, only joining the busy living room for a brief period of time to grab a bite to eat, then leaving as quickly as he had come in. He didn’t exchange a single word with any of you, only nodding in his brother’s direction when the latter offered Jungkook a pleasant, “Good morning!”

While you were all sitting around the dining table this morning, you told Seokjin that you wanted to leave. You were strong enough now and Jae and Kate were well rested. “We’ve been nothing but a burden to you and your brother, we can find somewhere else to go. We’re just gonna’ follow the train tracks until we come across a town.”

“Y/N, I’ve seen what you have left in your supplies, you’ll never make it and we don't have enough to spare here to give you a week's worth, especially when it comes to food. Don’t Jungkook’s attitude put you off, we haven’t been with other people since the beginning of everything. He’s never been very social, but he’s even more cynical of the good in humans after everything we’ve experienced.”

“I understand that. It’s hard to believe the good in people anymore. You’d think that we’d all try to look out for one another, you know considering the whole living versus the dead thing. We’ve heard stories of rogue communities ransacking other groups, shooting first, talking later.”

“I’d like to still believe that everybody has a shred of humanity. Like you guys. I could tell you we’re good people. I mean, Kate told me that you two took in Jae after his mom passed. Taking care of him like he was your brother.” You feel a pang in your chest as you remember your family, but you push your memories of them to the wayside. Mourning over them wouldn’t bring them to you.

“He had been with us since the start, of course taking care of him a priority. I’d like to believe that there’s good in most of us still too, at least when it counts. Are you sure it’s okay for us to stay? We don’t want to be a drain on your and Jungkook’s supplies. We’re not ones to overstay our welcome,” Kate cuts in.

“Please, stay. We need you as much as you need us. It's important that people like us stick together. Having numbers will make our lives easier, both in terms of defending ourselves, and collecting supplies. More people will make everything quick and easy.”

“I suppose, yeah. Thank you again, Seokjin for everything you two have done,” you smile in his direction.

“Call me Jin, we’re friends now. Seokjin is so formal,” he feigns a look of disgust at his statement.

“Alright, Jin it is then!” You stand from the table then and make your way to the corner of the living room where your bags were. “We should go through the supplies we have and see what we need before going on a run. I suppose you have a place in mind?”

“What do you take me for, an amateur? Of course, I have a place in mind,” Jin smirks at you from across the table as you drop two of the bags on top of it.

****

Not an hour later, you all find yourselves packing up the supplies you’ll need for your run into Jin’s black pickup. Jungkook had joined you shortly after you went through your bags, he had been listening to your entire conversation, entering the room listing off supplies he thought were necessary. You didn’t want to say you hated Jungkook, but he surely had a way of getting on your nerves. You tried to be civil with him, ignore the comment under his breath and his sighs whenever you would cut into a conversation, regardless of him being cold, you could tell he was a good person. He obviously cared about his brother, and other than when you first met, he was nice to Jae and Kate. Apparently, there was something about you that aggravated him.

The five of you loaded yourselves into the cab of the truck. The driveway on the front side of the cabin was at least 2 miles long, whoever had lived in the cabin before all of this liked seclusion, to say the least. Upon pulling out on the road, Jin put his upturned palm toward his brother in the passenger side. The younger boy let out a long groan. “C’mon, why? You do this every time we go somewhere!”

“Jungkook, I am five years older than you, therefore everything I say goes!” You, Kate and Jae, watch with confusion as to what was happening in front of you. Jungkook ignored Jin, earning him a quick twist to his left nipple. You couldn’t help but giggle at their interactions, and more importantly, the squeal that left Jungkook’s mouth. He sent you a glare when he heard you in the backseat, but you held eye contact until he looked away.

“Fine,” the younger man grumbles, reaching into the glove box and pulling out a binder. When he opened it, there were sleeves full of mixed CDs, each labeled with only a date. “What one?”

“January 14, 2012, please and thank you!” Jungkook places the CD in his brother's palm. Not a second later, the sound of ‘Mr. Blue Sky’ comes through the speakers, bringing a small smile to your face. Oh, the irony.

****

You were on the road for roughly 20 minutes before you came across three cars sitting along the side of the road, they appeared untouched. Jin slowed the truck and put it in park. “Let’s see if they’ve got anything, shall we?”

You all spilled out of the cars, Jungkook going to inspect the farthest car, Jin and Kate checking the closest, leaving you and Jae with the middle. You approached the vehicle with caution, the windows were covered in a layer of dirt and dust, making it impossible to see inside. “Jae open the door, do it fast,” he nodded at your words and you stood back, the knife in your hand at the ready. He grabbed the door handle and pulled, but the door wouldn't budge. The car jostled with the boy's effort to open the door. Just then you heard a bang against the window from the inside of the car. You ran your fingerless leather gloves across the windows, sure enough, a stiff was inside.

“Jae, wipe off the back windows, I need to see if there’s anything in there that’s worth it.” He did as he was told, using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe the window.

“There’s blankets, some clothes, a couple of cans that I can see, oh, and there’s a first aid kit in there!”

“Well, shit.” You sighed and tilted your head at the dead eyes staring back at you. There was a gunshot wound through its chest. He had taken the easy way out. Should’ve gone for the head.

You take a step back and use your boots to kick through the glass of the back window, and manually unlock the door. You hoped that the battery was dead, the last thing you needed was the alarm going off and attracting more of them. You took a deep breath and opened the door. No sound met your ears upon your action and you couldn’t help but let out an audible sigh. Your actions had since caught the attention of your group. “Everything alright?” Jin called at you.

“Yeah, just got one in our car and the doors were locked. We can handle it,” you say, looking back at Jae.

Upon leaning into the backseat the creature in front of you twists in its seat, the sound of it ripping open its own flesh off to escape the seatbelt met your ears. The mindless creature continued to thrash, knawing its teeth at you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Grabbing hold of the back of the headrest you reached your arm around and deftly plunged your knife into the soft temple of the stiff. “Shut. Up” You leaned across all the supplies in the back seat, unlocking the opposite side, Jae taking that as his cue to jog around back and join you in going through everything.

Your car had, by far, had the most supplies in it. There were blankets, a first aid kit, some cans of food, two water jugs, and a couple of large tactical knives. If it weren’t for the fact that you had five people in your group, what you all collectively found might be enough, but you needed to make sure that you were set for a while. So, you all loaded up and headed back down the load. You reached your destination about 10 minutes later.

“We’ve been scoping this town out for the past couple weeks, trying to see if it was worth it, there's a general store that's gated off, but we didn’t feel good just charging in there and looting, we didn’t know if there were any of them inside.” Jungkook glared out the window as the truck slowed down.

Jin put the car in park, having since turned the music down to reduce noise. “Okay, so Jungkook, Kate, and Y/N, you three go scope out the store. Jungkook has bolt cutters to get you in. You guys are the brutes with handheld weapons, we want to stay as quiet as possible and I think you’re our best bets. I’ll take Jae and we’re gonna survey the town and find someplace to siphon some gas.” You all nod at the oldest and can’t help but feel grateful that he’s taking Jae with him, he’ll be safer. You give Jae a quick hug and Kate reaches past you to ruffle his hair.

The three of you assigned to the store hop out of the pickup, each of you reaching into the truck and pulling out your backpacks, Jungkook grabbing an additional duffle bag to fill. Jungkook taps the side of the vehicle, and Jin drives off down the street. You pull out your Glock, and look around the area, making sure everything is clear. Jungkook crouches down with the bolt cutters and cuts off the padlock on the metal door. You and Kate cover him from the back with caution. When you hear Jungkook push the heavy door upwards, you and your best friend turn around and follow him to the set of glass doors at the storefront. He slowly pushed against them, and they open with little protest. After entering, he turned around and locked the glass doors behind you, just in case.

Upon entering the store, everything is extremely quiet. There are a few aisles, a pharmacy at the back, and ladder leading to the roof in the back of the store. Everything seemed untouched to you, and you were surprised that the store wasn’t picked over. This must have been a community that they evacuated. Considering its size, you aren’t worried about there being any of the dead in here. Instead, you make your way to the back of the store to check the pharmacy. You pop open your bag and start taking anything off the shelves that would be helpful to you, and anything that wasn’t expired yet. Painkillers, antibiotics, and anti-inflammatories made their way into your bag. You checked the counter and found a bowl of condoms sitting there. You smirked a little to yourself and justified that they wouldn't expire for five years, so you may as well take a few. You never know.

Just then you hear a bang against the front door, all three of you turning your attention in the direction of the sound. A stiff presses itself against the door, trying to get in and you look to Jungkook and Kate.

“I can get it,” Kate grabs the knife strapped to her hips and makes her way to the front door.

“No, let me,” Jungkook steps toward the door, making Kate stop in her tracks. “You have a lot more stuff to collect on that side of the store than I do.” She only nods and walks back to where she was.

As Jungkook reaches up to the lock to undo it, five more stiffs join the first and Jungkook swears under his breath. Just then, a crowd starts to gather at the door, and Jungkook jumps back. “Shit, shit, shit. Y/N, is there a back door?”

“Not that I’ve seen, just the ladder. Damnit!” Kate and Jungkook jog back to meet you at the only escape point.

“Here, there’s a lock on the hatch!” Kate tosses you the bolt cutters, you holster your gun and throw your bag over your shoulder. You climb as quickly as possible. The glass doors start to creak under the weight of bodies, the glass cracking and groaning. When you reach the top rung you lean against the bars surrounding the ladder, but you’re shaking so badly that you drop the bolt cutters. You hear them clatter to the ground and as Jungkook reached the upward to hand them back to you, the sound of breaking glass meets your ears, You use all of your strength to cut through the padlock, finally breaking it as the horde approaches you three in the back. You swiftly climb onto the roof. Jungkook throws the duffle bag he had filled with supplies upward and you catch it. He follows you up the ladder as quickly as he can, a few of the stiffs nearly at the ladder. Kate follows him, but her boot slips off one of the rungs and she stumbles. Her boot is caught by a couple of the stiffs below her.

“Kate!” You scream, you and Jungkook both reaching your arms toward her, pulling her upward. The leather of her boots being bitten by the dead below her. You two pulled with all of your might and she kicked at screamed to get her leg released. With all of your strength, you and Jungkook manage to pull her up to the roof with you. More now than ever, you were glad they couldn’t climb. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears after the episode as you all lay there and pant. “We’re you bit?”

“No, I kept moving my legs and my boots are too thick.” She sighed and closed the hatch as you all stood.

“Jesus, Y/N! Dropping the cutters? Seriously?” Jungkook yelled at you as you closed the hatch.

“What, do you think I wanted that to happen?! The slipped out of my hand Jungkook, give me a damn break!” You yell back and stand to face him.

“Enough you two! It doesn’t matter anymore, we all made it out so just shut up! This argument isn’t important so drop it!” You and Jungkook break eye contact to look at Kate, she was right.

You turn away from him and walk to the edge of the roof, overlooking the front of the store, more of them came spilling out of the woods and onto the street. Walking along the edge of the roof, you realized that you were completely and utterly screwed. You were trapped.

© alluremin 2019

no reposting

[demonslayer-yanderes]

Junkrat, Roadhog, and the Unluckiest Documentarian (Fem!Reader)

(Two brief warnings: -My first attempt at anything like this. -I basically closed my eyes and threw a dart at a list of Australian “slang” for Junkrat because I think that’s how he would have wanted it.)

He was dead and it was your fault. Sneaking past the border, hiring those two as your tour guides, even the documentary itself—all your idea. Your legs gave out and you hit the floor with a thud. You didn’t feel the blood seeping into your clothes; didn’t hear the uneven footsteps tapping across the gnarled wood floor behind you. But the voice was impossible to ignore.

“Oi, found ‘er! We’re in the shack. Looks like someone was havin’ a poke around.”

He sing-songed the last part to you as he crept closer and rested a heavy metal hand on your shoulder. You tried to whip around to look at him but it felt sluggish, as if you were in a dream. God, you wished this was a dream. He glanced past you at the body before giving you a sheepish grin.

“I know what it looks like, but no worries! It was a mercy killing. Dipstick got himself caught inna trap hiking back to town last night. Sliced an artery. So I had Roadie end it nice and painless for him rather than bleed out slow. Was tryin’ to think of a good way to tell ya so you wouldn’t get upset.” He giggled. “Guess it didn’t work out.”

You turned back to stare at your cameraman’s body. Someone had bashed his head in until it was unrecognizable. Only the logo on his shirt identified him, or at least the parts that were still legible under the chunks of brain matter clinging to it. His arms and legs jutted awkwardly from their sockets and twisted in ways they were never meant to. Even some of his fingers had been bent until they lay flat against the back of his hand. Where was the mercy in that?

“Find them?” The floor protested under his weight as Roadhog called from the doorway.

“Yup! Give us a hand an’ help get her back to the trailer. S'like she never saw a dead body before.” He jerked a thumb at it. “Speaking of, should prob'ly drag that off somewheres before sundown. Unless ya want dingos and the like showin’ up at the front door. Again.”

“I told you—” He took a labored breath. “—to do it earlier.”

“I forgot! She asked me what I was doin’ and I got a little carried away showing off me inventions. You know how excited I get. Sides, you shoulda done it. You’re the muscle. Hard labour is your job, I do all the thinkin’ and lookin’ pretty.”

They bickered lovingly as if nothing was wrong. As if the corpse in front of you was just another pile of trash and not someone you’d talked to less than twelve hours ago. The wind rushed out of you and you slumped down further, not even fighting the massive hands that wrapped around your torso and lifted you in the air. Roadhog turned you away from the body and toward the door, but you could still picture it; every detail burned into your retinas until you could see it with your eyes closed.

“Well, so what if he carked it?” Junkrat scuttled backwards out the door so he could face the two of you as he chattered. “Good riddance, the Vic bastard. I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but his camera work was rubbish anyways. Made Roadie look fat.”

“I am fat.”

Junkrat looked appalled. “Pleasantly plump’s what you are. Jus’ more to love. And whatshisname was a real dickhead, wasn’t he? Heard him call me a bogan once when he thought I wasn’t listening. Bogan! I mean I’ve been called an ocker and a hoon and a bastard and a drongo and a wanker and a yobbo and a monster and a worthless son, but a bogan? Well, that’s where I draw the line! Shoulda wrung his scrawny neck then.” He strangled the air in front of him only to drop his hands and look chastised at a grunt from Roadhog. He gave one of your dangling legs a sympathetic pat. “May he rest in peace, the unlucky bugger. But you, you ain’t had nothing but kind words for us! Well, 'cept when I put that Huntsman in your tent. But seeing you crying over a spider what couldn’t have been more than four kilos was too much! Roadie spent the whole night talking 'bout how cute it was.”

Roadhog stiffened. “Shut up.”

He shut up. For a few seconds.

“Ahh, this is great ain’t it? Ya know, I knew I was gonna like ya from the beginning. You kept calling me 'Mr. Junkrat’ and shaking my hand and all that when we first met. Hell, Roadie don’t even call me 'Mister’ and I’m his boss! And I can’t tell you the last time someone actually listened to me talk all the way through. They usually tune out somewhere in the middle, but you kept askin’ questions and nodding your head during those interview thingos. A real catch, shoulda done this weeks ago.”

“Jamison.”

“Er, 'this’ being spendin’ more time together. Not anything to do with that poor bastard in the shed. Still, ya may have lost a mate, but you got us now! Traded in a bloke who was up himself for two handsome, down-to-earth fellas like ourselves.”

When you reached the trailer he dashed to get inside before Roadhog squeezed through the doorway with a grunt. While Junkrat paced in excitement, straightening and unstraightening the scrap and junk clustered on every surface, you were set carefully on a scorched sofa. You stared listless at your feet as they moved around and mumbled amongst themselves. Everything felt numb, you didn’t even flinch when Junkrat suddenly popped into view.

“Here’s a doona for ya. When you go into shock you start feeling all chilly. Lost enough bits to know that firsthand.”

He clambered onto the couch with a threadbare blanket unearthed from one of the junk piles. His hands fidgeted as he tucked it around you, poking and prodding until you were wrapped so tight you couldn’t move your arms. Only when he was satisfied did he flop onto the cushion beside you with a grin.

“There we are. Oi Roadie, help me warm her up wouldya?”

His weight sent the other side of the couch surging into the air when he sat. Gravity forced the three of you closer until you were sandwiched between them, and the smell of sweat and soot and blood that clung to them was so strong you wanted to retch. You started crying instead, the tears that had threatened to spill in the shack speeding freely down your face. Junkrat panicked.

“Hey, hey, none of that! C'mon, you’re gonna make Roadie cry. He’s sensitive like that. An’ if the both of you are cryin’ I’m prob'ly gonna start too. Nobody wants that.” He jiggled his leg as he pleaded. When you just sobbed harder the smile dropped and he yanked on the tufts of hair he had left. “Shit, we’re supposed to be havin’ fun now that the dipstick’s outta the picture! Can’t have fun when you’re all sooky. Roadie, do something.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno! I’m no good in these situations. You’re the thoughtful one, you fix it.”

“…There, there.”

His massive hand enveloped your head as he pet you. Junkrat joined in after a few seconds of hesitation, clumsily running his hand across your back in jerky strokes. Each sob clawed its way up from deep inside you and forced out a fresh wave of hot, stinging tears that made your breath catch.

“Erm, there, there. No worries. You’ll see, now that he’s not in the way we’ll have heaps of fun. You can move into the trailer! S'nice and warm at night if we all huddle together. Roadie’s a hell of a space heater. Great pillow too. An’ he says I’m like a white noise machine, whatever that is.” He slung an arm across your shoulders and squeezed. “We’ll become best mates before ya know it! From there, we’ll see how we end up. What happens in me trailer stays in the trailer.”

“Jamison.”

“When you’re ready! If the mood’s right.” His crooked grin stretched a little too wide. “Ya know, like after a big heist when everyone’s keyed up. Or as a distraction to get your mind off something like your mate dyin’ a horrible, painful death. Which is deffo not what happened to whatshisface, jus’ putting that out there. But if you’re needing a distraction right now a good root is great—”

Roadhog let out a sigh and covered Junkrat’s mouth. They were meant to soothe you, but the muffled words coming from his mask made your stomach drop.

“Take your time. We aren’t going anywhere. After all, we’re all you have now.”

[tinypaintedthings]

Boy Scout Incident

(If anyone’s interested in reading the ACTUAL Boy Scout Incident Wil’s referring to, here it is written out in chapter 1 of his book that is still in progress. Note: this is an unedited rough draft version I wrote several years ago. This is back when Wil was 12 before he ever came into RP.)

The Artist of Otherly Things

Chapter 1

 They weren’t far behind him. William could hear their laughter and taunting calls echoing through the chilly fall air of Coldike National Park’s woods. It felt like he was going to die. Every muscle in his legs spasmed and his lungs screamed.

He couldn’t breathe.

Forcing a stop, Wil nearly choked on his saliva, collapsing his palms down upon his knees. He tried to inhale and exhale in an attempt to create some kind of more natural rhythm in his chest. With a turn of his head, he spat the dry, dirty grit from his mouth.

Assholes.

“Leave me alone!”

A cool trickle of perspiration freckled his brow. It was the damn boy scout uniform. It constricted his movements, everything too stiff, and tight. He sniffed, realizing he’d already lost the yellow neckerchief from his neck that went with the outfit.

Great. Now his foster dad was going to kill him, too. That was fine. He could die twice in one day. Why not? Twelve seemed like a good age to go. At least he’d get to skip Mrs. Shrouber’s history test on Monday.

Crap … he’d just realized he had forgotten about that.

Okay, make that three deaths.

He didn’t want to go camping anyway. He didn’t even like Boy Scouts. It’d been his foster dad’s idea. ‘It’ll be good to get you out and socializing with other kids your age.’

“Where are you dickwad?” Laughter from the asshole crew followed the bulbous voice of Jacob Fischer. Lights from their flashlights flickered and danced somewhere just off in the cluster of trees.

Yeah, this was a great idea. Boyscouts for the win.

He was supposed to be collecting marshmallow sticks for the fire.

“We’re going to find you, Freak. You might as well just come out now.”

More laughter erupted and he cringed.

“Yeah, we might be easy on you if you do,” Cole chimed in with a nauseating little taunt to his words.

He felt sick; not because of what they were saying or doing, but because it made him feel pathetic and weak. What was he doing? Hiding? Running away from the guys? It made a low cluster of anger boil inside.

He was a freak.

NO!

A bite of rage licked up inside in defiance of himself, pinching his pale, lightly freckled skin into a fiery impish line. He would not believe that. He couldn’t. It hurt too much to, because part of him deep down knew it was true, and he didn’t want to face that.

No, they were jerks.

They were going to pay for this. Give it to the king bullies of Westband Middle School to ruin the woods and everything for him. He liked the woods. He liked getting away from everyone; his foster home, and his label of being a freak and one of the ‘special’ kids in middle school. That was his place – the woods, a place where he could breathe and not have to think about anything.

There wasn’t anything wrong with him.

Shadows skittered out of the corner of Wil’s peripheral vision, and his chest seized, unable to see much of where anything was coming from. Pin prinks of goosebumps littered up the back of his arms.

“Leave me alone!” he called out, again. “Why can’t you pick on something with your own brain capacity, you know, like … a slug?!”

It was stupid to provoke them; they were all at least a foot, if not more, bigger than him, but he didn’t care. They were idiots, and he may have been small, with a scrawny thin frame of a twelve-year-old that still hadn’t reached the onset of puberty, but who cared? They were ticking him off.

Why couldn’t they just leave him alone and go away?

The wind began to move through the trees, making things creek and groan; casting odd shapes to dance upon the leaves and ground. The air began to feel charged, almost too alive, and more nervous energy crawled up his spine-tingling with the anger already rising in there.

‘William~’ something in the air whispered in a high singsong female tone that sounded more like a flute made of honey than something actually human.

William froze. That wasn’t the guys.

The molten airy voice broke into a disarray of giggles and then was gone.

Before Wil could even blink, two hands slammed into his back, shoving him face-first into the ground.

“God, you’re so stupid, you twerp,” Jacob Fisher said from somewhere above him. “Did you really think you could get away from us?”

Wil could hear Cole Parker and Davin French chuckling somewhere above him.

Shit.

“Dude, he’s ‘special’ remember? Of course, he’s stupid.” Cole laughed.

“Yeah, he’s like autistic or skitzo or something.”

“Whatever,” Jacob shrugged. “He’s a freak. You’re a freak, aren’t you dimwad.” Jacob kicked the toe of his shoe into Wil’s side and Wil bit his lip to keep from making a sound. “Come on. Get up. Why don’t you tell them?”

“I said to leave me alone!” Wil’s fingers curled into the cool dirt embedded with broken pine needles. His lips turned down; all thoughts on the wind or whatever that voice had been, had gone. His stomach felt nauseous, but no. He wasn’t going to let them get to him.

“Ooh, harsh replies,” Cole said with a laugh. “You’re right. He is ‘special’.”

The three high fived and jostled about; chuckling.

Wil shifted his body weight back and managed to push himself up to his knees. He could see a hole had ripped into the thread of his uniform there and knew his foster father was going to kill him. Dirt and pine needles fell from his chin and cheek. He winced with an inward growl.

It was embarrassing. Why’d he have to be so weak?

He hated them. He hated them so much.

The wind brushed past, making the leaves cartwheel and spin a dance along the dirt beside him. The darkness of the mostly empty forest sounded hollow, and he shivered.

“Tell us what?” Davin asked.

“You didn’t hear?” Jacob went on, nodding to Wil. “There’s a reason you aren’t at your last foster home, isn’t there, Freak? Tell them.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You’ve seen him with that stupid sketchbook, right? He draws things. Don’t you, twerp? You draw crazy weird creepy things that come true.”

“That���s not….,” Wil started to protest when the thick arms of Jacob shoved him back on his butt; hands now sore, splayed to the side of him on the ground. Coils of anger flushed up inside.

“Apparently, his ex-neighbor’s dog died after - freakboy - went and drew it like road kill … and that’s not all he drew.”

“Shut up, you asshole. You don’t know anything!”

An assault of dirt from Jacob’s shoe, landed in Wil’s face, stinging his eyes, and catching his open mouth. He coughed, wiping his eyes, and spat the grit from his teeth. Rage twisted his freckled impish looking face into an explosive glare.

“Quiet, Twerp, I’m telling a story here.” He chuckled, and more fury fumed under Wil’s skin, and his muscles clenched. “Rumor has it the freak also drew his foster mother’s grandmother singing in the very same room that she died in ten years ago, down to the exact details, and he’d never even seen the woman or that room before.”

“Shut up, it’s not true!”

“Aw, look at him. He’s upset,” Cole teased. “Are you going to go cry to your mommy?”

“What mom?” Jacob jested with a chuckle.

“Oh, right. Foster kid. My bad.”

“Yeah, no wonder his parents didn’t want him,” Davin snorted. “Creepy, and mentally challenged.”

That was it. Wil pushed himself up off the dusty matted ground, and swung his fist right at Jacob Fisher’s big fat mouth.

It hit, but then a rising crushing sting engulfed his own abdomen, as Jacob’s knee came up knocking the air right back out of him. With a coughed wheeze, Wil buckled over, holding his stomach, only to look up from under his tangled auburn hair in time to catch sight of Jacob’s fist, coming for his right cheek bone.

He heard the crack before he felt it, the force knocking his scrawny frame backward to the ground, just as the rising throb bit up from his cheek to his temple. His teeth ground and locked, wincing with a whimpered groan; fighting to keep it in and not cry out in pain.

Laughter.

He could hear them laughing all around him, mocking, while the light of their flashlights jumped and skittered all over the forest growth.

Slowly, Wil curled his index finger into the ground.

‘Die’, he scratched into that cool, dark earth.

He wanted them to die … to go away and to never be seen, again.

Just die.

Stillness covered the air.

The wind stopped its haunting movements, and the trees didn’t groan. Darkness enveloped where he lay. The skittering movements of the flashlights had gone.

Nothing.

The world had gone into a silent void.

“Guys?” he called out, not looking up yet from the ground he lied on. He couldn’t hear them. Where’d they go? Had they run off?

Anger floored him. Why should he care?

“Serves you right, you assholes!”

But his voice sounded hollow, like a shallow echo in a very empty dark woods and a creepy feeling fell over him.

Wil swallowed.

Something wasn’t right. He could feel it, and his fingers began to twitch against the earth, staring at what he wrote.

Breathe.

He had to breathe. They were just trying to scare him. That’s what they did.

He pushed himself up to his feet, staggering just slightly, as he reached up to touch the rising bruise on his upper jaw. A little blood came back on his palm, and it hurt, but his attention was more on what was around him.

Nothing.

Only the dark vast expanse of the forest surrounded him.

No boys.

“Okay, guys, this isn’t funny! You can knock it off now!”

No sound.

Wil’s fingers began to shake at his sides, muscles tensing, and his muddy swollen lip trembled. Eyes wide, he couldn’t move. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be in this woods anymore. It felt like the trees were closing in like living tendrils that wanted to swallow him.

A solo leaf danced by him, settling on the dirtied shoulder of his Boy Scout uniform and then twirled up into his rusty brown hair. An indiscernible bell sounding giggle was heard, just as the cool autumn breeze tickled up the back of his neck.

 “William~,” a short whisked female whisper sounded in his ear, making him jump as he turned around.

Nothing was there.

William bolted through the brambling mash of forest branches and overgrowth, not wanting to see, or think of anything. He was getting back to camp.