#yes i did mean fight or fight i have no flight reflex

[entirelysein-e]

『 Their hand slips 』

☼ synopsis: Their hand (almost) slips and puts a strain on your relationship

☼ characters: Toji, Yuuta, Inumaki

☼ wc: 4.3k

☼ cw: dark content! fem!reader, Toji being a good husband and almost snapping, getting pushed by Rika and slapped (accidentally during a playfight with Inumaki), Toge using his technique on you, overall sogginess, hurt to comfort

☼ notes: I am by no means glorifying domestic violence - this fic is not about this topic. If you or a loved one experience abuse in a relationship please reach out to the police or a qualified counselor / hotline for help!

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Toji:

Being with Toji has always been a rollercoaster of emotions but you never doubted his love for you, despite him being rough around the edges. Yes, he might disappear for days, sometimes weeks after a fight but he never once lifted his hand or indicated that he would physically hurt you. If the fight was over something dumb you would usually end up in the bedroom to get his anger out in a fun way while making up again.

You don't even know what started the fight today, was it the dishes he didn't do? Perhaps he left the laundry in the laundry machine? All you know is that you've been screaming at each other for well over an hour, your throat already sore but you wouldn't stop now. Toji was just beyond annoyed at your little tantrum, at least that's what it was to him. “I said I'll take care of it, didn't I? The day isn't over yet” he tried the calm way at first, his jaw clenching in frustration when you screamed back how tired you are from work.

Things carried on like this for a while, Toji losing his cool after you screamed at him right away and he started to scream back until you were only throwing around profanities. At least until you said something you shouldn't have “No wonder your last two wives left you, you live like a damn pig”. It wasn't too bad but it was a sore topic for him and his hand raised… simply staying up in the air without ever connecting to your face but it was enough for you to flinch away. Toji's jaw tensed up further, his teeth almost cracking from the pure pressure when he realized what he almost did - crossing a boundary that should never be crossed and you looked at him like he's a monster now. Perhaps he was and you were right, make it three wives, it's deserved now that his hand almost struck you.

Ever so slowly he brought his hand down from its spot up in the air, trying not to startle you further when he reached to cup your cheek, the anger in his eyes turning to desperation. Out of reflex you flinched from his touch, your body still in flight mode from almost getting struck by him and Toji recoiled his hand quickly while nodding to himself. The anger flamed up behind his eyes once again upon realizing just how bad he had fucked up. Anger rose up and he couldn't contain himself any longer “FUCK” he roared, making you stumble backwards just to get away from him before he punched a hole into the wall. You barely recognized the man in front of you since he'd never been this violent around you or directed at you. The thought of drawing a single breath of air scared you with him raging around and you simply held your breath, your entire body shaking like a leaf in a heavy storm, but before you found your voice again he stormed out of your shared home, grabbing his coat on the way out of the front door.

Relief was the first thing flooding your mind when you finally felt like you could exhale once again, the air less tense with him out of the room and upon looking around your usually tidy kitchen, you saw the battlefield he'd left behind. The hole in the wall gaping and your favorite candle holder, the one he gifted you simply because you thought the cat warming its paws looked so cute, now on the floor and shattered into hundreds of small pieces. You didn't care much for the cushions laying around or the chairs scattered across the room but you cradled the severed porcelain head of the small cat to your chest as you fell to your knees when the first wave of shock wore off. Toji had left. He's gone now and given how both of you crossed boundaries and he almost hit you, didn't give you much hope for his return. A bitter laugh crossed your sobs when you thought of the small candle holder scattered and how it represented your broken relationship.

After what felt like an eternity on the floor you had the courage to get up once again, slowly putting things back to where they used to stand before picking up each and every piece of Tojis present. You needed to get your mind off of his departure, he sure would return - latest when he had to get his things- you told yourself, trying to calm the mess that was your head. Dedicated you brought he pieces to the living room where his show was running as always, your favorite background noise in your daily life and piece by piece you glued the little candle holder back together until it looked somewhat what it used to and it gave you hope - perhaps you could do the same to your relationship?

Once the distraction wore off you found yourself sitting on the unusually empty couch, sitting on his favorite spot and the silence was deafening, the show stopped playing a while ago, Netflix asking you if you're still watching and the tears started to form in your eyes once again. Perhaps he will be back soon? Your hope wore thinner with every hour that has passed, only hoping that he will come back eventually one day at this point. Sure, you've had worse fights with him but it never got physical, this one felt much more charged and intense than all the others before so perhaps he's sick of the constant fighting, sick of you…

Slowly you sunk your face into the pillow on the couch and brought your knees to your chest as you wept, his show now playing once again to bring you at least a little comfort as you drifted off into a restless slumber, the moment where he almost struck you replaying in your head over and over again.

Toji wandered around the Block at first, contemplating to get drunk out o his mind and simply disappearing out of your life forever since he has nothing to offer to you but his heart and body, but now he wasn't sure if that was enough - if he was enough and he hated these thoughts. He could have any woman he wanted so why is he so damn attached to you? Answers didn't come by as he sat down in the park and gulped down a cheap beer but the longer he sat there the more reasons he found just why he was with you and how you made him feel things no one managed to ignite in so long. It was clear to him that he would need to go back, that he would need to fix things with you, for his own sake because he'd be lost without you once again.

By the time Toji got up from the old bench at the park it was almost morning already, the bird chirping softly in the trees and he took a deep breath in, preparing himself to lose you once and for all since he couldn't force you to forgive him after ever but he would promise to be better, he vowed to be a good partner and later on to be a good husband to you and not once did he make you regret trusting him since he was always nothing but good to you. His posture was slightly slouched when he entered the apartment, ready to find the mess he left behind in the kitchen but it looked as if nothing ever happened here - aside from the hole in the wall that felt like a plow to his guts. That could have been your face, realization setting in once again over what happened and how badly he damaged the trust in this relationship with his cowardly reaction.

Shaking his head at his thought he made his way back to the front door, only to be met by your weak voice somewhere behind him. “Toji?” was all you asked, your voice sounding tired and so fragile from hours of crying and he flinched, dreading your next words. “Don't leave… please,” You continue and sit up now to look at him. “I'm just here to get my thi- you want me to stay?” He sounded rather surprised that you didn't send him out, cussing him and his entire bloodline out as he got his things. Toji was so prepared for rejection he didn't even consider you would want him to stay, but you did, so he dragged himself over to the couch where you sat, waiting to face him. Your bloodshot eyes shocked him, have you been crying all night over him? Over the situation or perhaps the divorce you'd surely want?

“I'm sorry,” was all that he croaked out, his ego crushed and the confidence that usually radiated off of him was entirely gone, he was nothing but a miserable pile in front of you in this moment. It took you a minute or two to fully register his words - his apology and you simply nodded, knowing he wasn't great with words and especially apologies. Silence fell upon both of you once again, unsure how to go on from here, both of you uncomfortable with the situation. You were the first to find your words again, having spent the night thinking about what you wanted and ultimately what you will say to him but right now this was all thrown out of the window when you looked at him and reached out for his hands, trying to show that you're no longer scared.

“Listen to me. If you ever raise a hand to me again, Toji Fushiguru, I will cut out your heart and eat it for breakfast, do you understand me?” You asked with a much more secure voice and it almost scared him because he knew you took that threat seriously, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips now. “That's my wife,” he chuckled a little, wondering if he extinguished your flame with fear but you weren't one to crumble, not from him or his foolish actions.

Unasked Toji whisked you up into his strong arms and carried you to the bedroom, refusing to let go of you for even a second as he smothered you between his arms and chest. Things weren't okay and they won't be for a while but at least you knew that he was willing to work on himself and you were willing to stay, so things could be alright again one day.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Yuuta:

You were always Yuuta's first priority and he never failed to make it clear that you knew that there's no one and nothing that's more important to him than you. Yet he had to save the world as usually, exorcizing a curse here, helping out there and more often than not you found yourself alone in your shared home, talks limited to texts and phone calls. He tried his hardest to make sure you're always on his mind even if he's not physically with you, especially then but you slowly felt like this wasn't the case. It felt like he was running away from home, from you to be alone, to be with Rika rather than you for the old days sake.

This gut wrenching thought became especially painful when you ran into him in the grocery store when he claimed to be on the other side of the world and not in fact in the same grocery store or even the same city. You didn't want to cause a scene, not there out of all places so you abandoned your shopping cart and walked out, ignoring the hurt puppy look from your boyfriend. Dropping the chocolates he held previously he charged after you “Wait, please. Let me explain!” he called after you and caught up with your rather fast pace but you didn't pay any attention to him, fearing the worst.

And sometimes your own mind can be the worst enemy as you now convinced yourself that Yuuta was leading some sort of double life, a secret life hidden away from you and you didn't want to see his face for a second longer. When the young man held onto your wrist to get you to stop running from him it felt as if your skin was burning, quickly tugging your hand out of his grasp and glaring at him. “Stop causing a damn scene, Okkotsu” you hissed under your breath and Yuuta knew he was in trouble by the way you only used his last name, so much venom behind your words. All he wanted to do was surprise you with your favorite flowers and some sweets since he was home almost an entire week earlier and he didn't understand the tantrum you were throwing at that moment. Yes, he did lie to you and told you he won't be home for at least another 5 days but he was already on his way back to you, his home. Was he wrong that he wanted to surprise you just to have you jump into his arms five days earlier than initially planned?

The walk home was awkward and silent, the air around you two charged with strong emotions and unspoken words - words none of you dared to speak until the front door to your apartment was closed and you whipped around, facing him with an expression full of anger and hurt. “Why did you lie to me? Am I not good enough for you anymore?” You immediately asked, letting your inner fear take over instead of trying to think rationally but Yuuta immediately shook his head. “It's not like that, I promise!” His voice was rather submissive, hating to have fights with you, especially out of the dumbest reasons but you couldn't contain your anger, your presence alone making him take a step back. He knew you would never lay a hand on him but the air around you was so thick he feared to suffocate if he couldn't keep some distance. “Don't come at me with that bullshit, Yuuta. You promised not to lie to me and here you are… avoiding me despite being back. Do you have someone else? Do you miss Rika so much you can't bear to be with me?” You questioned, taking steps towards your boyfriend despite his silent plea to keep distance. It's unfair of you to bring Rika up in this situation, both of you knew this but you didn't care. The way he was always talking about her started to gnaw at your heart, slowly building a deep insecurity that you're just someone he settled for because he couldn't have the one he wanted. Perhaps he found a better replacement? That was your initial thought when you saw him smiling to himself at the grocery store. Little do you know he was thinking about your gleeful smile when he came home early.

Yuuta barely opened his mouth after what felt like an eternity of silence when he reached for your hands, hoping you let him explain, hoping you calm down enough to start thinking rationally. “Please, just listen, okay?” He started, his voice small since he didn't want things to escalate, fearing to lose you as much as you feared the same. You were his anchor, his safety vest out in the ocean that kept him afloat when everything was against him. He made the mistake of touching you, trying to get closer to you when you were so charged and it made you feel crowded, pushing him off of you so he let go of your wrists. He would have let go if only you asked, showing him he made you uncomfortable but before he could stop it, it was already too late.

Rika pushed you away from him, much harsher than he would have ever allowed and he recoiled, backing away from your curled up body after you were sent flying against the wall, several feet behind you.

The sight of your body on the floor and the little noise you let out upon the collision shattered his heart. Sure, Rika just wanted to protect him from harm but you would have never seriously hurt him and he was in shambles, trying to figure out what to do now that one of his biggest fears became reality. It took you a few seconds to realize what had just happened, just sitting up and blinking at Yuuta who looked paler than usual, his body frozen to the spot as he watched you with wide eyes. The way you looked around made him aware of how dizzy you must feel since your head hit the wall - at least there was no blood on your hands when you checked the back of your head reluctantly.

“Yuuta?” You asked him as you teared up, knowing that it was just an accident. The young man snapped out of his trance-like state upon hearing your voice, softly asking him for comfort but he couldn't give that to you, not if he was the one who hurt you in the first place.

His head snapped around, looking for a way out of there, perhaps he could jump out of the window or would it be too high? The sound of his heartbeat picking up was deafening, the only thing he heard in that moment and it only fueled the anxiety further. But it was your utterly desperate voice calling out to him once again that snapped him out of his fight or flight reaction, panicked eyes finally looking at your teary ones and his body reacted on its own. Without a further moment passing he dropped to his knees beside you and cradled your body in his arms, holding you close. You knew he didn't hurt you and it was just a reaction of Rika so you weren't angry, but your body still hurt as you wept into his embrace, body trembling with each sob that wrecked through it. “I'm so sorry my love” kept falling off his lips like a whispered mantra as he gently rocked you back and forth in his arms in hopes that it's enough to calm both of you down - even if it's just a little bit.

Hours later and neither of you had moved. You were still cradled in Yuuta's lap, arms wrapped securely around you and he still looked at you as if he just broke the most valuable thing he ever owned. “I’m sorry that I made you angry,” you eventually broke the silence that just felt heavy to you but he quickly shook his head “don't… it's not your fault I lost control,” he began and kissed your temple, his lips resting against your delicate skin for a moment before you felt them move as he continued to speak. “I should have told you I'm home earlier, the flowers would have been a surprise regardless, I'm sorry I made you doubt my love for you.” He whispered against your temple, earnest regret in his voice. Yuuta knew he was gone too much lately and if the roles were reversed he would have had doubts as well so he couldn't blame you.

Unsure how to answer, you nod softly and your hands clutch onto him just a little tighter. “We will make things better,” you eventually mumble, reassuring the both of you that despite what has happened, things will be okay again and you can work past this accident.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Inumaki:

You never felt scared or threatened by Inumaki, he was always more than sweet to you and despite his cursed speech you never feared anything. He fell in love with you the day he found out you learned sign language for him and hasn't left your side ever since. You two were inseparable to the point of his friends automatically speaking of the both of you instead of just an individual and it was you who understood his few words better than anyone.

Laughter echoed through his small apartment when he pinned you to the bed with just one hand, the other traveling down to your sides to tickle you. Your laughter was one of his favorite noises, your smile his favorite sight and he wished he could tell you, scream out how much he loves you but he would never dare to say such things out loud, scared it manipulates you somehow and you're with him against your will. That was his worst nightmare, one that often haunted him at night and he woke up distressed while frantically searching for his phone. It's the same over and over again “You're with me because it's what you want, right?” He texts and awaits your answer as he picks the skin on his fingers anxiously. “I’m with you because my heart chose you” you tell him every time before his phone even unlocks - already knowing what plagues his handsome head.

Your sweet giggle brought him back to the little play fight you two just had and the way you were trying so hard to overpower him despite knowing you would never succeed. This thought never scared you, since you knew he would never use it against you or hold you down when you wouldn't want it. It was all just playful banter until he wanted to catch your wrist after you freed it but miscalculated, sending his hand right against your cheek with such strength the slap echoed off the walls followed by your whimper. You didn't need to push him off of your body, Inumaki got up right away, the tears that started to form in your eyes causing him to panic slowly. He frantically tried to sign “I'm sorry it was an accident” over and over but it felt like his hands knotted up by the speed and you didn't look at him, turning away as the tears started rolling down your cheeks. You weren't mad at him, knowing it was an accident but it still hurt you - the tears only a reaction of your body to the stinging pain that traveled through your face.

But the way you refused to even look towards him frustrated the young man and despite his efforts to get your attention you simply rose from the corner of the bed and left the room. Of course he was chasing after you, tapping you, holding your wrist, whining… he tried so hard to get just a sliver of your attention when you clearly didn't want to give that to him right now and he felt wrongfully punished. “Stop crying and come here” these words slipped past his lips with such desperation, he couldn't even stop himself before saying them out loud and his hands slapped over his mouth the second he realized what he'd done.

No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, your body acted on its own accord as the tears dried and your feet walked over to him. Your face was one of utter shock and betrayal that he would do this to you, accident or not.

Inumaki pulled your body close and held you in a tight embrace despite every fiber in his body screaming not to do it, it felt so wrong to him but he needed you to forgive him, for accidentally hurting you, for putting you through manipulation. When he pulled back he was met with your face full of hurt and anger, which he deserved. “Please hit me back. We can be even” he signed once, twice… but you looked away, pinching the bridge of your nose as you took a step back to put some space between the white haired man and yourself. You wanted to scream, to explode at him but you collected yourself and looked at him with a cold expression. “Can you just stop?! I don't care that you hit me,” you started but lost your cool quickly and it came out more snappy than intended “we were play fighting, it happens. But you can't just crowd me and demand me to do things… and you surely can't fucking manipulate me!” Your voice rose in volume at the last part since this hurt you more than the accidental hit to your face.

Inumaki looked at you like a kicked puppy, eyes big and his face sinking into the collar of his sweater further so he can hide. He was beyond ashamed for his actions and didn't want to speak, the desperation clouding his mind and forgetting for just a split second that his words have immediate consequences and despite his best effort of not speaking, he can mess up.

With trembling hands he started signing apologies, begging for your forgiveness over and over until his shoulders started trembling and in a last effort he signed words unclear but you knew what he meant “please hold me” You whispered as he signed it and sighed. Realizing that he's more affected by this than you were and that he really had no malicious intentions you pulled your lover close, comforting him and yourself as his arms wrapped around you tightly, hands clutching to the fabric of your shirt. “Love” he mumbled out aloud, knowing this one word won't make you do anything but it was the first time you heard him say that he loves you out aloud. “I love you too” you whispered back, cheek still aching from the way his hand slipped but right now your heart needed healing from the betrayal of getting manipulated. Both, you and Toge were sure that this was a cut in your relationship but the bond you shared will act as a bandaid and you will be okay again, especially since he will be more careful now.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[amybizarre]

Nightmare Backstory P3

Oh look, more!

The darkness marked him as a sign of their contract. Also to manifest inside of him, granting access to darker powers.

It started as a dark patch of skin right above his heart. Kind of like a scar. (I mean, its raw energy basically drove into him like a spear. A…. Rough… experience to say the least. No, not like that, stop it-)

As Nightmare's connection to the darkness grew stronger, so does the patch on his skin, increasing in size and slowly creeping across his body like vines.

If the other Steves found out what he had done, they would shun him and all his efforts would have been for naught. So he decided to hide the dark markings on his skin, which was thankfully easy enough, when they were only on his chest so far. He also had to be very careful with how and when he used his new powers, making sure no one caught on to his secret.

The Darkness made him stronger, yes. But the side effects of harnessing it were terrible. They were like a disease, causing nausea, vomiting, coughing and pounding headaches. The symptoms were especially strong, when Nightmare had a calm moment to himself.

Normal Yellow Steves can only use powers connected to lightning and insane speed and reflexes. His new abilities allowed him to harness the power of fire, lava and flight.

This isn't the full spectrum of powers for the Darkness. However, only Steves infused with Shadow Stone can access the actual ‘dark’ part of them.

Of course Nightmare needed to train more to control his new abilities properly. Which he did at night, away from the outpost, so his comrades don't catch on.

During one of those training sessions, he discovered a group of enemy soldiers trying to scout out the area around the outpost. He engaged in a fight with them, feeling confident after the Darkness in him promised to help him win.

It was a five vs one fight and Nightmare did struggle to stand his ground in the beginning. The Darkness kept urging him to let it take control to help him. He wasn't sure at first, but the situation got so dire, he didn't have much of a choice. He gave in and there was searing pain in his chest. Then, the world went black for him.

What do you think so far? Where do you think this will go? Also, what are your headcanons for Nightmare Steve?

Also, reposting some of my old drawings for him, bc I'm lazy and as a bit of a visual treat after the long text. ^^

[synthleeius]

Tickletober day 2 - Accidental

HELLO AGAIN‼️‼️ i think this is tbe most fics ive produced in the span of a few days so woop woop

Pairing: lee!Xiao ler!Aether

Xiao let out a grumble, once again reaching up to the top kitchen shelf. After Aether invited him into his teapot, the least he could do is go fetch something for him.. But, it was no use, no matter how far he reached his fingertips just missed it. It was a wonder how Aether reached it himself, he wasn't that much taller than himself after all.

He must’ve taken a while, because he heard soft footsteps behind him and a small chuckle that could only belong to Aether. “Here, duck down a bit for me.”

He was a bit confused, but complied anyway. What he wasn't expecting was for Aether to gently push him down, reaching up to the top shelf himself. He retrieved the item, his hands coming down shortly after. What he didnt notice is that his knuckles grazed down from Xiao’s upper ribs to his hips.

The particular motion caused the adeptus to let out a gasp, flinching upwards. Aether let out a noise of confusion, stepping back from him and tilting his head. “..What was that?”

“Nothing of importance, Traveller.” He replied, crossing his arms over his chest in his regular stance. The blonde raised an eyebrow, turning his head to catch a glimpse of the other’s face. “You sure? You're getting kinda blushy..”

“I'm sure.” He mumbled quickly after, taking his gaze to another direction. “If you say so..”

Aether tried to drop it, he really did.. but he was curious, and equally confused. So, to cure the said curiosity, he reached an arm behind him and ran a single finger down the side of his torso.

The touch resulted in a strangled-like noise. It could be passed off as a gasp and a flinch, but to him it almost sounded like.. a giggle? “W-What was that for..?” Xiao asked quietly, turning to face Aether. He didn't look mad.. more flushed, and slightly nervous.

“..I just didn't know you were ticklish.” Aether shrugged, turning back to whatever he was doing seemingly unfazed. “..What?”

“I said I didn't know you were ticklish.” He repeated himself, thinking that his guest didn't hear him. He turned back to meet his gaze when he did not receive an answer, being met with a stare of confusion.

“You know what that means, right?” The traveller tried to confirm, completely turning back around.

“Forgive me if I dont know of every mortal custom.” Xiao huffed, a thick coat of sarcasm lacing his voice. Aether just laughed softly, “Alright, alright.. I get that.”

“Would you like to know what it is?” He proposed, leaning back against the counter. Xiao glanced at the floor, debating the offer before nodding. “I.. suppose so, yes.”

That's all the consent he needed before he lead Xiao to face away from him, softly grasping both of his hands with his own and pushing them together.

“Now, arms up.” Aether said firmly, slowly lifting them up incase Xiao decided to back out. To his surprise, he followed without too many worries. He knew Aether wouldn’t hurt him on purpose.

“..Why?” The adeptus asked, turning his head back to look at the other. “It makes it easier.” The blonde replied casually, resulting in a soft huff and him turning his head back to the wall.

“Basically.. It's a fight or flight reflex.” He began, resting his free hand on the shorter’s lower ribs. “I don't know the exact science behind it.. but, it does this, so that's pretty cool right?”

In the middle of his sentence, he gave a soft squeeze to the spot on the ribcage his hands were lingering on. Xiao let out a choked laugh, leaning away from his hand on reflex.

Quickly after, he moved back and tilted his head a bit. “Thats- thats..” He trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Not sure yet?” Aether chuckled, “That's okay. How about.. I keep going, and you decide if you completely hate it or not. How does that sound?”

“..I guess so.” He mumbled, relaxing a bit after tensing up for a moment. “But.. I have a question. Why does it make me laugh? Is that.. normal?”

“Yeah, it's normal. It's just how your brain alerts you, happens to everybody. Well.. most people.” He answered, before gently fluttering his fingertips around to his right side.

“Hah-.. that's- okay..” He let out the soft giggles that had been bubbling up in his throat from the moment the other had laid a hand on him, lightly squirming away from the touch.

“It’s okay?” He repeated, taking a glance at Xiao’s expression. He couldn’t help but stare when he saw the flustered smile on his face, along with his cheeks fading a light shade of red.

To his disappointment, the adeptus noticed quickly and hid his face into his arm the best he could. “Awh, no fun~” Aether giggled, obviously joking.

“Shuhush..” He mumbled, feeling the way the traveller moved onto his stomach. Ironically, he also felt the way the sensations got significantly stronger. “Wahait–!”

Aether immediately paused, turning Xiao around slightly to meet his eyes again. “You okay? Had enough?”

“..N-No.. I didn't- it was a reflex. My apologies, Aether.” He said breathily, leaning back onto his companion slightly. “That's fine, no need for apologies.. Does that mean you want me to continue?”

“..If-.. ..if that's what you wish to do, then..”

“You could just say ‘yes’, yknow.”

[halfetirosie]

☠😱🔪 It's all Fun and Games until somebody commits manslaughter!!! 🔪😱☠

(Exercise 17 - 20 React-os!)

1) Wait, he actually heard the story from somewhere???

I assumed he just made it up himself!

2) HOLY SHIT BRO, THIS IS ACTUALLY LEGITIMATELY SCARY!!! 😨😨😨

Not gonna lie; I know it's fake, but this still freaks me out.

It hits me in a psychological sort of way, because we've seen Blade get hurt before; so seeing him badly hurt both feels too-close-for-comfort, and builds on the familiar fear of loved ones getting hurt.

PLUS, seeing Blade acting weird reminds me of when his programming was externally tampered with in ArmyxBloodxOath, so I'm getting a wee bit of war flashbacks...

3) ....I say all that, but then my boi goes and ruins my immersion!!! 😂😂😂😂😂

There's nothing like saying "Lord Jackass" to completely ruin the spooky atmosphere!

4) YOOOOO WTF?!?!?! (⊙ᗣ⊙) 

DAMN, THEY'RE EVEN ADDING SOME BODY HORROR TO THIS SHIT??? TALK ABOUT DEDICATION!!!

Blade deserves a lil' treat after this for giving the performance of a lifetime!!!

(Come to think of it, Blade is actually a really good actor, isn't he? 🤔 I mean, when he's actually giving it his all. Like during Idol Fest when he acted as a "prince" character, he did a good-ass job; and he's doing a good-ass job now, too!!!------Damn, now I really want to see an event where Blade performs in a play or something!!!!!)

5) Ah yes, a masked psycho---the perfect role for Rei!!! :D

Dude, you just know Rei's having a little too much fun pretending to be a serial killer!

"The guy with the bird"??? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Not my mans never remembering people's names.... 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ (Shoutout to that moment in Festive Glimmer when he also didn't remember Quincy's name!)

Nah but, shouldn't Dante know Rei's now by now? Rei's hovered around him and teased him on more than one occasion...

6) Hell yeah, Eerie Escapade reference!!!!

I LOVE when the characters reference past events!!!

It just makes the stories feel more substantial, ya know? Like they carry more weight. (I wonder how Vlad is doing? I want an update on him!)

Ohhhhh, I see! So it's not so much the ghost that scares him---after all, he dealt with Vlad just fine---but the scary story that got to him. That makes more sense.

7) HOLY SHIT, KARU ALMOST KILLED MY WIFE!!!! 😱😱😱😱😱😱

IMAGINE IF HIS CLAWS WENT IN JUST A LITTLE FURTHER!!!

HE COULD'VE SLASHED EDMOND'S FUCKING THROAT!!!!!

JHBHQBR#$*#$FO!IJVNKJNW@##@!!!

!!!!!!!

*static*

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*static*

Fuck, dude.....

....On a lighter note, it's very entertaining to think about Edmond running around with a sheet on his head, taking his silly task as seriously as ever! :D

8) Damnnnnn, Olivine! Back at it again with the smart-ass ideas!!!

Olivine is seriously CRUSHING it this event!

9) Wait, did Eiden actually understand what Topper was saying here, or was he just assuming?

Because, like, it is canon that Eiden ocassionally understands what Topper says, and he might slowly be learning his language, you know?

I just bring this up because I really, really hope Eiden did understand Topper, because I desperately want Eiden to eventually be able to have full conversations with the lil' homie!!!

10) The heroic return of

🐍 YAKUMO-JUMPSCARE!!! 🐍

BRUH, this is the second time one of the clan members almost fucking DIED because of their prank!!!

That is pretty true-to-life, tho. Like, it's not uncommon for irl-pranks to go very wrong because the fight-or-flight response of the prank-ee happened to be "fight." Like when they jump out to scare someone and end up getting reflex-punched.

11) Classic Introvert Dad Quincy, with absolutely no fucking clue how to handle a Distressed Yakumo---

---Although, in fairness, I feel like many of the clan members wouldn't know how exactly to handle Distressed Yakumo, either.

Hell, I probably wouldn't know what to do!!! Like, look at this sobbing string-bean of a boy!!! He's inconsolable even in the best of times!!!

(ᵕ—ᴗ—)

12) An accurate description, tbh;

Foxy Grandpa over here has been slacking off since the Grill Competition, and now he makes Yakumo do all the heat-lifting!!!

Rude. 😡

13) "The emotional range of a log"

PFFFT!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I CAN'T---!!!!

DUDE. Rei's insults are always immaculate, I swearrrr!!!!

He would be SO GOOD at making diss-tracks!!!

14) 🚨🚨🚨 SOFT KARU!!!! 🚨🚨🚨

Karu's so on-guard and fierce all the time, so seeing him act so affectionate (in the beloved Tsundere Bullshit™ flavor, or course) is such a treat!!!

Just look at that face!!! I wanna squish his cheeks!!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡

👻 End of report! 👻

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Anyone remember this WIPpet? It got scrapped with the last attempt at the self-insert shenanigans, but I liked it so much I wanted to keep it. Thankfully, I found a way to rework it into the new version :) Plus some fun digs at myself because I am very much not a combatant and yet I'm throwing my SI into combat, lol

765 words of me-the-author having fun under the cut :D

~

"It's a good thing she had Knell to hold her together," Cuff said, caught somewhere between sneer and laughter. "She could never have survived long enough to get to Cipal otherwise."

"Should we step in?" Frey asked, trying not to wince when the zombie swiped Bobbi across the face with its claws.

"Are you joking? This is prime entertainment!"

"You don't think this is any funnier than I do," Frey retorted, and grabbed Bobbi's bow and quiver. She stayed crouched, torn between letting Bobbi prove herself, and not wanting to watch her new friend get torn apart by zombies.

"It's like watching a puppy tumble down a flight of stairs. Repeatedly." The delight in Cuff's voice made Frey grind her teeth. Asshole.

It didn't get better the longer they watched, either. At least Bobbi had the sense to lure the one zombie away from the group so she didn't pull aggro on the whole horde. And she got a little more confident over time. Still missed more often than she hit, and the few hits she did get in were paper cuts at best. 

"Do you know what I find fascinating?" Cuff asked a few minutes after Frey settled down cross-legged on the edge of the bluff to watch. 

"Hm?" Frey asked, only about halfway paying attention to him.

"Knell."

If Frey was a cat her ears would've perked up. "What about her?"

"She is in full control of that bond. There's nothing at all stopping her from stepping in."

Frey grit her teeth, thoughts running around in her head and colliding with each other. "Kinda glad she doesn't, though."

"You're not scared, are you? Not the mighty Tanta Frey?"

"Shouldn't I be? She's another Rheddig weapon. Like you."

"Oh, no, nothing like me," Cuff scoffed. "Nowhere near as powerful, for one thing. Considerably freer, for another. Your new friend is in over her head, and I don't think she knows it yet."

Bobbi slipped and fell on her ass trying to dodge the zombie. Happy accident that it worked; the zombie bowled right past her, and Bobbi scrambled to her feet again. 

"...I meant in regards to Knell," Cuff clarified, almost sheepish.

"What do you mean she's in over her head?" Frey asked, ignoring that last comment. She'd figured as much. 

"Knell is in full control of their bond," Cuff repeated, back on solid ground and sure of his words. "She wasn't cursed into that form like I was. She took it willingly. I've no idea why, of course, but I do find it very odd."

"How can you tell?"

"When you're as old as I am, Frey, you learn how to read and understand the power of those around you," Cuff said, affecting a wise and venerable air. Frey snorted. 

"You're only four years older than me," she reminded him.

"You go ahead and keep believing that." He had that smug tone that made her want to punch him again. "But I'm quite serious, I can tell by the way Knell has bound herself to your new friend that she is the one who set it. Not Bobbi, not a third party. It's quite similar to how I bound myself to you back in Newark."

"New York," Frey corrected, absently. Mostly on reflex at this point. "But weren't you already cursed by the other Tantas?"

"I was. That's why I said it's similar. I was cursed into that vambrace form, yes, but I chose to bind myself to you, Frey. Just as our Rheddig friend has chosen to bind herself to Bobbi."

Interesting. Frey put that information away for later. 

"What's that got to do with..." She gestured to the pantomime of a fight happening below her.

"Simply that I'm surprised Knell does nothing to protect her bearer. She certainly could with no ill-effect to Bobbi. Either how I protect you or by revealing her true form. I wonder why she doesn't."

"Huh." Frey clicked her tongue, now wondering the same thing. "Maybe—"

The zombie raked its claws down Bobbi's back, and Frey spotted a glimmer of light reflected off of something too small to see clearly from where she sat. Bobbi turned, a cry of pain filtered through gritted teeth, and the tip of her sword passed through that glimmer. 

Silver wire erupted from the contact point, pierced through the zombie and shredded it to ribbons that disintegrated on the wind. 

"Oh," Frey and Cuff said at the same time. Bobbi sheathed her sword and shook out her hands, which set Knell jingling enough Frey could hear it.

"...mine's better," Cuff grumbled.

[justanothersimsblog]

Answering for Ibis pt5

21.. What is your oc’s stamina like? Would they be able to run a marathon, or not run at all? What about walking/another physical activity? How are they with exercise in general?

Ah yes, so again, vampire means he has more stamina and can run more than the average human. Now he can thank his brother, an actual track and field champion, for training him so now he more physical condition than even the average vampire.

22.. How long can your oc stay focused on one task before they get bored? Do they constantly have to switch things up or do they hyperfocus? What sort of things is it the opposite for?

If its something he likes he can focus for a long time, bordering on hyperfocus. Like when he gets into alchemy and potion making. He will not focus for boring stuff like homework, good thing he doesn't need to do that anymore.

23.. What is the most annoying sound to your oc? What’s the most pleasant? Is there any reason?

"IBIS!!!!!!" since it means he's about to get in trouble lol

As for more pleasant, he won't deny he likes moans from his partners. But on a more regular note, bubbles brewing from a cauldron would be his favorite background sound.

24.. What smells bring back specific memories to your oc? What are those memories like?

Oh many! He thinks of past birthdays when he smells pumpkin pies, and of fall festivals in his hometown. Pot in general tends to make him think of his friends and hanging out with them, but specific ones he's made obviously reminds him of when he either created them or used them for the first time. There's also Taia's perfume, he hasn't been with anyone else that wears it so he immediately thinks of her. Popcorn reminds him of his sisters, Ari because she used to work in the movie theater and would come back smelling like it, and Ash from all the movie nights they did. There's also a particular brand of jerky that reminds him of Ari/her boyfriend since he liked it a lot and her room would end up smelling like it often. Metal burning reminds him of his brother Benny from him thinkering in his room. Paint (acrylic) reminds him of his parents. I could go on…

25.. How jumpy or easily spooked is your oc? Do they have a fight or flight reflex to being startled, or are they never startled at all?

Currently, not too much, around average. His vampiric hearing lets him hear people approaching more than usual so it's harder to startle him in that sense. He still can get startled in which case he'd just well, react like anyone else getting startled.

[cas-coding]

autism rant

im usually a very low support needs autistic, meaning i can handle most of my needs by myself even if they are different from neurotypical needs, but damn i forgot how much standardized tests take it out of me.

i got home from my four hour exam today after a speech loss episode while i was driving (i am a very verbal driver, so this was deeply unsettling) and could not even tolerate the stimulus of watching my favorite tv show. i eventually figured out that i could watch it if i put it on a small screen with no volume and dimmed brightness. sensory overload is a bitch.

thankfully, my family was busy today and not at the house so i had lots of time to myself. i eventually just decided that tv was too much for me and that fanfiction on darkmode would be better. by hour two of reading i was stimming like crazy (internalized ableism means i dislike stimming, despite the relief it gives me, but at this point it was worth it. stimming is good and i love seeing other people stim bc it means theyre happy or trying to feel better. i just have guilt about stimming personally)

then my family got home and all my hard work and self care was out the window. they had all been at a loud event and thus were shouting and did not realize. they turned all the lights on in the house and made me eat dinner with them, them all bickering and overlapping their words and talking about things i did not understand without bothering to clarify for me.

one thing led to another and i shutdown for about thirty minutes, which usually consists of very limited movement, fight or flight reflexes, and limited verbality (easy phrases like yes and no, not much more really). this is like a full body reboot and is always incredibly brutal for me.

i'm not really sure what my point is. i think my point was originally that my day sucked but now i think my point is that support needs vary. on a good day, i can get up and go to uni and handle thirty people talking to me at once and only get a little anxious. today, testing took most of my energy and i had to resort to basic survival instinct and, because i can usually manage better than this, my family did not accomodate me.

support needs vary and always always always, neurotypical or neurodivergent, ask your loved ones/friends/people around you if there is anything you can do to help them if they seem a bit off or tired. if one of my family members had asked that, i might have been able to avoid a shutdown and that would have been cool

[sanstropfremir]

second part of that long ask from ur swf anon :)

after the main dancer was chosen for each class, they would complete the choreo and decide formations for their performances. one of the benefits of the main dancer was that they were always center. they also had the benefit of wearing more embellished clothing to stand out (most noticeable in x class, where rian the main dancer was wearing orange while everyone else was wearing green). here is the full list (mnet truly has the WORST camera angles, so i only included the full cam ver of the performances):

1. assistant class: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aF2evLz98h4&ab_channel=MnetTV

2. leader class: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srjJzRVVmxc&ab_channel=CHANNIECHANNEL

the judges shared that even though no:ze was the main dancer/in the center/had the most shiny outfit, they didn't really see her. all the other dancers, in their opinion, stood out and overpowered her.

3. sub class: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mY_3E7W8v30&ab_channel=CHANNIECHANNEL

4. x class (i'm not sure what this class was called): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fC-_8fbn_s4&ab_channel=Whatthejess

judges shared that lip j was the stand out of this class. she's the girl on the far left at 0:36. (it was originally her choreo but rian was chosen as the main dancer so that's why she is credited.)

*i only included comments that were stand outs.

-

i'm not sure how much creative input the main dancers were given regarding stage design... they didn't show it in the episode so i'm assuming that mnet just told them to show up and perform (because like, the rainbow thing they shot at the end of the leader's performance seemed so random? it didn't match what they were doing). after each performance, the main dancers from each class were asked to pick someone who they thought was the worst dancer. in doing so, the person chosen would lose points for their crew.

judges also chose an mvp crew they thought were the best. prowdmon (monika + lip j + others [sorry i don't know their names. the show really only focuses on these two]) was selected and this gave them the advantage of choosing which crews went against each other in ep4. so, it wasn't a random lottery draw! in the episode, they only showed the part where prowdmon chose to go against wayb (context: no:ze, the main dancer from the leader class, chose monika as the worst dancer. and this made her mad so she was like we're going against wayb - no:ze's crew). i'm not sure why they didn't show how the other crews were paired up. because ya, coca n butter + hook is definitely an interesting match.

also like, wayb was eliminated from the show after ep4's mission.

-

and it seems like from here on out, there will be a mission each episode to determine who will be eliminated. i'm honestly not too sure. for their next mission, they're doing a mega crew mission and mnet doesn't really explain it; but it seems like each crew is doing a performance on a larger scale (with more members added to their crew). also, like mnet is ass and doesn't upload all the performances onto their channel..... they only upload the ones that were the most popular/had the biggest public reaction which is why i had a hard time finding the clips for the classes mission. hopefully they do from here on out.

another v long post. thank u again for reading and sharing ur thoughts! always love hearing them. (also, pls let me know if i'm oversharing. u mentioned not caring for the competitive nature and drama so i'm not sure if i was adding too much. there really isn't drama imo. mnet tries to do their best to edit and make it seem that way but when u watch the show, the girls truly root for each other and are friends.)

mnet truly has the worst camera angles i hate them so much. also why are they still streaming on a goddamn potato. the quality is SO bad i can barely see anything!! there's a lot of me complaining in this one i'm sorry in advance.

1. assistant class

i have to assume that whoever they chose as the main dancer is the one that stays in centre because i cannot tell from the clothing at all. i don't think she was a standout performer here, but also the camera and the fire effects are WAY too wild to actually get a good grasp on who even was the standout. i also have to assume that the dancers have no say in the design because design is not a big part of street dance and this kind of chaos screams m 'too-much-money-dont-know-how-to-use-it' net. they built this massive set, barely used it, and didn't leave enough room for the proper formation spacing!! ugh. i hope the judges actually got to see a locked off version of this without all that fire in front of the camera because if i were them i would be squinting down the end of my glasses like a grandma at the screen. that's what i was doing anyways but still.

2. leader class

i have to agree, i don't think noze stood out as the main dancer here. and geniunely i cannot tell that they embellished her costume more. like damn, that stylist took a masterclass in subtlety, because i was easily paying more attention to whoever was wearing those massive thigh high cutout garter stockings and woven bodysuit combo. i am assuming that the point of these challenges was probably to be noticed the most so that they can score points and pick who they went up against for the elimination round? i'm not entirely clear but my point remains; ngl i don't really like this method of creating performance because it means that no one is there to create a performance, yanno? troupe/group choreo like this thrives on teamwork to actually make it a good performance. i know it's a pretty classic method of weeding out people for auditions and stuff like that but personally i find it a wholly uncompelling viewing experience, especially when it's a fully produced stage like this. i know everyone very likely gets along behind the scenes but the incohesion of intent is very obvious. also what's up with the assistant class getting a massive set and the leaders getting a bunch of cars and some smoke pyrotechnics? i mean, i am glad they filmed it during the day, but i am confused by the disparity.

3. sub class

i wish i could describe how poorly mnet shot this. it's not a fucking mama stage, it's a dance stage!! we need to see the choreo properly!!!! and together!!! obviously i don't care about stitching together different takes for the final edit but just...not having a continuity at all in the choreo is a bit jarring. again, i am also not sure how one is supposed to evaluate how well these dancers did, because i can barely see what people are doing. or who the main dancers are. i know i'm railing a lot on mnet here but i can't give an accurate reading of the dancers because legitimately it is so hard to tell what's going on. if they want to bill this as a legitimate dance show, why are they shooting it like a kpop performance? the camerawork for kpop serves a specific function: to add to the visual spectacle and to highlight the idols' faces. you don't need either of those things for shoot choreography, so why do we keep getting closeups of dancers' faces? not that these dance videos aren't spectacle-y or fun, because they very much are, but they really suck at their one primary function, which is displaying the choreo.

4. x class

this is definitely the one where the camera work is the closest to what it should be, but then they go and fuck it up by adding rain! just the groundwater would have been fine, but noooo they had to add the extra rain so there would be extra water drops on the lens!! this is my favourite choreo of all four of these, i think there's the most cohesion and (excluding the rain) it's got a good mix of spectacle with the water and the blacklight and the right camera angles to show the choreo mostly well. i still don't understand why they cut in those sections that don't fit with the rest of the flow though. why. you could have one-taked this and it would have looked dope as fuck. i agree that lip j stands out the most, obviously it's her choreo so it's the best suited to her character and abilities.

---

if it wasn't a random lottery draw they should at least have the courtesy of showing people why who picked who!! that's the most interesting part! and i'm not that surprised about wayb being eliminated, prowdmon really stomped them into the ground with that revenge energy. i'm interested in this larger scale performances concept, because i'm not really sure what that looks like in this particular context. if they do end up on youtube i will review them! and you're not oversharing at all, the context is fine! i don't mind reading it as information, i just don't like actually watching it with my own eyes. i can't watch that kind of thing in reality tv because it makes me want to sit everyone down like a kindergarden teacher and go "ok, now why are we all yelling?". too many years of tense rehearsal conflict negotiation and i just want to whack everyone upside the head. it's not very cathartic for me lmao. i have no doubt that everyone is friends because dance scenes are small and i'm sure they've all worked together lots, but even just the editing sets off my fight or fight reflexes.

[dabisqueen]

The Captured Pt.4

Shigaraki x Reader x Dabi

⇢ rating: 18+

⇢ word count: roughly 4.6K

⇢ plot: Being held hostage at the LOV HQ, you are Shigarakis "Spoils", but can't help falling for Dabi. This makes for a troublesome situation

⇢ warnings: 18+, noncon, rape, mean Shiggy, soft Dabi, blood, cum, creampie, smut, alcohol, force, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), orgasm, threatening of quirk use

⇢ NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!

personal note: uff, finally the ending. i tried pulling it all together, i hope you like doming shiggy just as much as I did. Enjoy! Awh… and soft fluff dabi <3 <3

Pt.3

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

Back in Shigaraki's room, he hurled me towards the bed, but I caught myself before falling onto the mattress and faced him. 

“Shigaraki stop, please listen to me!"

“Why should I?” He asked with a sharp throaty chuckle.

“What if I tell you that what you've had with me so far was only like the normal loot in one of  your games. What if I told you, I could show you what it feels like to get the epic one?” 

That got Shigaraki’s attention. He stood still, observing, red orbs glaring at me. 

“If I don't fulfill my promise, you can do whatever you want with me." I swallowed hard, “but if I do, I want you to let Dabi and I be.”

He cocked his head, a slim smirk forming in his face. Still mistrustful and a bit hesitant, he finally nodded, rasping “Ok, this better be interesting”

The room was dipped in dim blue light, the soft hum of the computer filled it as we stood there, unmoving. Between his pale tufts of white hair hanging into his face, I could see his narrow eyes were staring expectantly at me. He was tense, his hands curled into fists. His whole composure was one of an animal in a fight or flight situation.

I slowly stepped towards him, positioning myself directly in front of him, looking up. “Well,” I leaned in, tilting my head so that our lips were close to touching, “let's go get that magic loot then.” I could feel his hot breath on me, this time not as unpleasant as usual. I had gotten used to the damp linen and dust smell constantly engulfing him.

Raising my hands up to his face he flinched back, eyes darting like a deer in headlights. Kind of adorable I thought. As he didn't move, I slowly started running my fingers through his hair, pulling and tugging on it, watching him inhale through tensed lips, breath coming out in short ragged pumps. I tugged harder at his hair and he let out a small raspy whimper. The sound sent a jolt of tingling heat straight through my body and had my core tense up. I moved to cover his mouth with my soft lips and eagerly sucked up his sweet moans. It just took a second before he leaned into my kiss, his lips a bit dry and chapped, but I didnt mind. My tongue slid into his open mouth, finding his, circling it until I heard another raw groan escaping his throat. I pulled back, a string of silvery saliva connecting us as I stared into his already lust blown pupils. Kissing his jaw this time, I leaned in again, moving down to his neck, starting to suck that one special spot he kept picking and scratching so often. That made him throw his head back and let out a deep, gutural rasp of pleasure and I could feel his legs go weak. Releasing my lips with a plop, I marvelled at the dark bruise starting to form and let out a soft giggle. 

As he tilted his head towards me again, I could see a rosy hint spread across his usually pale face. Huh, cute, I thought and couldn't help a smile spreading across my face.

I took him by his wrist and led him on his bed, pushing him down so he rested his back on the sheets. He looked so frustratingly adorable, almost helpless under me. I positioned my legs to each of his sides, noticing he still had his fingers balled into fists. His breath hitched in his throat as I started tangling my fingers into his hair, tugging at those pale locks again. I bent down for another one of his sloppy yet deeply satisfying kisses and he didn't disappoint, instantly mouthing at me. 

Heat started to pool at my center as I ground against his quickly hardening length, sending shudders through his body. I sucked his lower lip, catching it with my teeth, nibbling and pulling on it. My actions had him whimpering and bucking his hips underneath me, and I noticed his enormous bulge straining against the fabric of his sweats.

I pulled back to grab the hem of his shirt but his hand caught mine with lightning reflexes, pinkie raised. He looked panicked, shaded gaze fixed on me, still panting. I tuttet at him, shaking my head "Nuh-uh." He winced but loosened his grab around my wrist and I continued to pull his shirt upwards, revealing the impressive musculature of his torso, littered with scars and marks. He lifted his chest up a bit so I could take the shirt off completely and then I pushed him back onto the bed. As he laid bare chested below me, I noticed the thin trail of pale tuff leading down his belly towards his pants and I couldn't keep myself from sliding my fingers over it, playing with its softness. He winced and drew out a ragged breath, still watching me, eyes dazed and elated. 

With my soft fingertips, I started mapping out every gash and scar that marked his skin, tracing them, feeling every ridge and wrinkle as his chest rose and fell with his tense breath. I bent forward, moved to pepper kisses down his pale neck. I bit him softly, licking over the marks with my tongue before sucking them into bruises. I continued littering his throat down to his chest with those marks as I slowly scooted down between his thighs to get a taste of the rest of him.

Opening the strings holding his sweats up I curled my fingers under their hem, pulling them down. His massive cock bobbed out, already hard and glistening with precum. My cunt started switching in anticipation when I took in the delicious view. Shigaraki helped me pull his pants off entirely and then he laid back in front of me, completely naked.

I lowered my lips and started tugging on his white curls, biting and nipping at it, then moving to the side and peppering his hips with soft lingering kisses and nibbles. I slid my tongue down towards his thigh leaving a wet trail, kissing and biting his skin softly on my way there. Biting harder, sucking bruises, I continued to pebble kisses and little nips everywhere as he kept wincing, eyes half-lidded, his hips stuttering and bucking. My soft cheeks were touching his strained length as I moved to lick all around his sensitive parts, always too close to touching him. I kept repeating it until he was a panting, sobbing mess below me. 

Finally showing some mercy, I wrapped my fingers slowly around his dick and heard him whimper as soon as I made contact. I marveled at the deliciously solid meat in my hand and applied pressure, having him buck into my hand immediately, his voice cracking. He looked absolutely hypnotized by now so I moved and hovered my mouth over his dick and slid my tongue out. The second it touched the slit of his tip he croaked out a desperate grunt, his eyes rolling back in his head. I licked the pre off, savouring the sweet, salty taste and then took his tip in my warm wet mouth, while he kept panting and groaning uncontrollably beneath me. Flicking my tongue over his sensitive tip, I slowly descended, trying to take as much of him in as possible. I hollowed my cheeks and started to move up and down, circling my tongue around its ridge, flicking it over the top and letting it slide across his length. I cherished the heated whimpers and moans that spilled from his mouth as I forced his dick deeper down, almost swallowing him until he hit the back of my throat. My jaw hurt from the stretch but I didn't care, this was just too delicious. 

I started increasing the pace, sucking hard and relentlessly as I noticed myself becoming more soaked by the second, the heat between my thighs now undeniably intense. Suddenly, his movements become erratic and his breathing forced. The way his cock switched in my mouth told me he was bout to cum. I pulled back instantly, releasing him with a plop and quickly squeezed the end of his cock where the head joined the shaft. He let out a painful moan, his teary red eyes shot at me, a mix of pain and fury in them, but I kept a hold on the squeeze until his dick no longer twitched. He let his head fall back, whimpered loudly, the come down had to be miserable. I gave him soft kisses of sympathy as I praised "Want a reward, Shigaraki?"

He nodded frantically and I extended my arm, slowly pressing two fingers to his lips and watched him open his mouth. He swallowed my fingers, sliding them against his wet hot tongue. He closed his lips on instinct, a deep groan leaving him, rumbling through my arm into my body. The empty look in his eyes and the way he sucked on my fingers were priceless. I kept moving my fingers in and out, watching the drool drip down the sides of his mouth and down his cheek. Pulling my fingers out, he whimpered at the loss but that was cut short, when our lips found each other again, his mouth opening, tongue searching for mine. I caught it between my lips and started sucking on it, bopping my head up and down until he helplessly groaned into my mouth.

“Do you wanna be inside me now, baby?" I purred into our kiss.

"Yes- please” a desperate raspy moan left his lips.

I slid my leg over to straddle him, planting my knees on either side of his hips. His eyes were glazed over, lips slightly parted. So adorable! He carefully gripped my plush hips, pinkie raised. My core, wet and warm, hovered just above his pulsating length as I started dragging my slick folds along his red swollen cock. I kept rocking my hips back and forth to feel more of that hot, delicious friction where our bodies met. Gazing up I noticed the priceless look on his face - blushing and shaking, biting his lip to hold himself together. 

As I stopped rutting, his misty eyes slowly met mine. I moved forward, positioning myself over him, my wet folds kissing his tip. Holding his gaze I leaned down, mere inches from his face, fingers laced into his hair as I slowly pushed back onto his dick. The second the tip started disappearing into my hot wet cunt he totally lost it. His whole body started to shudder, cock pulsating eagerly as he buried his hands in the sheets, dusting them in an instant. But neither of us cared.

The stretch in my core was immense, the pressure so intense, it had me wincing as I slid down his length. Even the slightest movement had him moaning, loud and shameless. It took a couple of ruts until he was fully inserted and I paused, letting me get accustomed to the pressure. I rolled my hips and he started whining, digging his fingers into my flesh, as he managed to press out with a trembling voice "Stop, 'mclose." I noticed him twitching violently inside me, so I stopped and waited. It took a few minutes for him to regain control, while I kept stroking his hair, giving him soft tender kisses of praise. When he finally gave me a hint of a nod I rocked a little in response. He groaned and his eyes rolled back, rasping whines mixed with sobs as I slowly started moving. 

“Oh, f- fu-..." Shigaraki was too out of it to finish the sentence.

His hair stuck sweatty to his forehead and his coarse lips were slightly open, glistening wetness in their corners. It made my whole body tingle with pure pleasure, seeing him so thoroughly broken down. His body ached as I came up and dropped back down hard on his length, letting him strike that one special spot inside me with his immense girth and making his face twist in pleasure. The stretch was almost too much, it had me panting soon, his ridge and veins constantly rubbing against that one special spot. The pleasure built in a steady crescendo as I moved faster, feeling my core tense up. 

“Fuck- oh fuck,” he hissed out with strangled moans, as I kept taking him in as deep as I could.

I increased the pace and suddenly he took over, grabbing my hips and fucking into me. My walls clenched around his length with every rut of his hips, my small cries building into loud heated moans. He let out a steady stream of needy whines and swears as he kept pounding his hips into mine. His breathing became hard, each push of his hips had me hurling towards an unknown edge. A white heat flared up inside I had never felt before. It kept increasing with an insane pressure that would soon have me exploding. My fingernails dug sharply into his shoulders, leaving red marks as he gasped at the feeling of it.

Keeping up that relentless pace, the pressure became unbearable, my core suddenly releasing all it's build up tightness in a mind-blinding high. I went rigid and all I could feel was pulsating white heat that left my mind blank. I threw my head back, a loud keen erupting from deep within as it hit me in waves and I spasmed, a clear liquid gushing out of me, splashing against Shigaraki's pelvis, abdomen and my thighs as he continued rutting into me. "Fuck..." he stuttered as I kept coming around him, gummy walls clenching around his length with every rut of his hips. He didn’t hold out long after that, red-faced as he shuddered, a primal groan escaping his throat and he spilled over, his hips sputtering as thick and hot loads of his release coated my insides. It was such a great relief it had him in tears, breathless sobs shaking his chest as he continued riding out his high. 

He sagged back, his garnet eyes glazed over, lust-drunken emptiness in his expression as he was panting, trying to catch his breath. His hands were curled into loose fists and he stared at the ceiling, cracked lips slightly parted. His pale skin had a deep red tint, his hair stuck in sweaty disheveled strands to his face and I couldn't help but grin at how fucked out he looked.

Absolutely spent, I slid off of him, feeling his still half-hard dick sliding out, his sweet release gushing onto him. I collapsed into bed right next to him and we laid there, shoulders touching as I tried to stop my heart from beating out of my chest. The silence between us was not heavy but comforting, mutual.

Shigarakis’s breathing eventually evened out, he was still staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, crimson pupils opium blown.

“That was-” his words slurred in exhaustion.

“Yeah.” I breathed, still struggling to get off my own high.

Neither of us spoke again.

Shigaraki eventually broke the silence, “Did you ever think about joining?” He moved his head to face me, his red eyes glowing intensely in the dark.

“Joining what?” I was kind of dumbfounded. 

“The League, Spoils.” he huffed annoyed, “I think you’d fit in well.” 

I jerked my head towards him, eyes wide with disbelief, “Seriously?!”

“Not gonna repeat myself.” He scoffed.

“Uhm... Yeah, I think that would be really awesome, Shigaraki.” 

“Call me Tomura.” he paused, “I... I could even get a quirk for you.” 

Totally speechless at his offer, I propped myself up, now staring bluntly at him. Silence settled between us as he stared back at the ceiling. 

“So, what about Dabi and me?” I prodded. 

“I might be a fucking menace, but no cheater. A deal is a deal.” he snapped exasperatedly, “you're off the hook.”

“Thank you, Tomura.” I smiled with honest happiness. 

I took in his sight. He still had a rosy hint tinting his usually pale skin, pupils still enlarged. I reached over, running my fingers through his hair, gently tuggin all the sweaty strands out of his face. He let me do it and I was able to get a closer look at him. Under all his scars, the chapped skin, he was really handsome. Fine facial features, slender nose, just the right curve of his lips and cheekbone. Strong yet delicate jawbones. At that moment, something about him had my chest fluttering unexpectedly. I stroked him along his cheek, bent over and kissed him one last time on his lips. Our eyes locked and a soft smile formed on my face as I said “Good night, Tomura.”

I slowly stood up, got dressed and turned towards the door. One last look over my shoulder I saw that Tomura had followed me with his gaze, the dim blue light outlining his undressed silhouette. A smile left my lips, one last moment with him and I left. Closing the door behind me I went to the bar and was greeted by a total mess. 

“What happened?” I clasped my hands in front of my mouth, chairs disheveled, tables topped over. Everyone was gone, except Toga. 

“It’s you!” she squealed with excitement, eyes lighting up at the sight of me. She had apparently waited for me, hopped over and greeted me with a “Missed you, Sis." As I still stared at the mess in front of me she gestured around “Oh, yeah, that. Well, after you left, Dabi went apeshit in here. And then took off.” She waved towards the exit, unnervingly close to my face with her knife, “Noone really cared to clean up after that scene. But I stayed, waiting for you to come back!” she beamed.

After a moment of silence she looked at me, sheepish grin in her face as she wiggled her eyebrows “I think Dabi likes you"

“No shit,” I recoiled, starting to clean up the mess, propping up the chairs and tables. 

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

Dabi didn't return that night, nor the next morning. Shigaraki couldn't care less, he just went about his usual business, although treating me with utmost respect after our last encounter. I was getting worried about Dabi so I asked Spinner and Kurogiri for their help. I was biting my nails in nervousness and every time Spinner returned through a warp hole and shook his head, my guts wrenched. It wasn't until nightfall, we were sitting at the bar, discussing what other place to look for him next as we heard a loud thump at the main entrance. Our heads flew around, eyes transfixed at the door, as it flung open and Dabi stood there, leaning lazily against the door frame. He let go of it, swaying, head hung down, hiding his beautiful face. He stumbled towards the bar, using the chairs and tables to keep himself from falling over. Spinner whistled amused but I slipped off the stool and rushed toward him just in time to catch him from falling over, huffing under his weight. 

He mumbled something, slurring, his heavy-lidded eyes searching for mine until our gazes met. Time came to a halt as we took each other in. Tears pooled in my eyes as he rested his head against my neck in an apologizing gesture. He reeked of whiskey, smoke, burned flesh and bones. It made me cry out loud even louder. A soft tug on my arm pulled me back to reality and, looking up between tears, I saw Spinner next to me, nudging his head towards the hallway. He wrapped his arm around Dabi and we both dragged him off to his room. 

Dabi slumped onto his bed and I turned around to thank Spinner, but he just shrugged it off and left. Dabi was sprawled out on the sheets, still fully clothed as I managed to get his shoes off. His black coat was not as easy to remove - with a little bit of his help, it finally fell to the floor with a heavy thumb. Dabi laid on his back, breathing heavily, eyes closed. I sat down next to him and started stroking his jet black hair, cupping his face. His eyes opened slightly and he looked at me. His sensual lips parted and he slurred out a “M'sorry...” as he leaned into my touch. I felt a tear run down my face as I leaned in to kiss him. His hand moved up to wipe it off, gently stroking my cheek. "C'mere," he pulled me towards him and I snuggled into him, ignoring the smell of burnt flesh that seeped through his own musky scent. I had been waiting for this the entire time, us, together, no hiding any more. He kept stroking my hair, placing gentle kisses on it as I enjoyed the feel of his skin and staples on my cheek. As we laid there, our heartbeats steadying, becoming one, I knew that this was my place to be. After a while, exhausted but happy, we both drifted into a warm, long overdue sleep. 

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

I awoke in the morning, Dabi's head nestled into my neck, his breathing regular. Enjoying the silence, I slowly stroked his hair, marveling at how soft it was, despite him almost never combing it. He inhaled with a yawn, stretched in my arms and nuzzled his head into my soft skin, mumbling a good morning into it. I cherished the feeling of his hot breath on me, his warm skin on mine. As he lifted his head to meet me for a kiss, tears welled in my eyes. He looked at me quizzingly, “What's up, doll face?“ propping himself up on his elbow. "You scared me,'' I whispered, lashes thick with tears, " I thought I'd never see you again." 

He chuckled lowly, kissing my chin, “Naa, won't get rid of me that easily." His hand moved up to wipe away the tears, cupping my face and stroking my skin with his thumb. We staid like this until I had calmed down, getting lost in each other's eyes. Eventually, he nuzzled back into my neck, inhaling my scent and kissing my pulse. "But-" his words soft and apologetic, “Should've stepped up for you much earlier. I was a shitty jerk." I shushed him, playing with his hair between my fingers. "It's ok. It will be better from now on. Tomura-" Dabi raised his head in surprise, "will leave us alone. I am not his Spoils anymore"

"How'd ya do that?" Honest surprise in his voice as he propped himself up again, his cerulean eyes staring into mine. 

"Secret-" I winked and he scoffed exaggeratedly, leaning forward to meet me in a deep kiss. “I'll find out sooner or later…" he whispered into the kiss. As our interactions were getting more heated, his hands moving towards my breasts, I pushed him back. 

"Let's go take a shower - this time you reek," I laughed softly and he smirked at me "Ok doll, but ya coming with." 

We got up and Dabi slid his fingers between mine and gave me one of his crooked smiles. It made my heart skip a beat and I couldn't suppress a wide grin in my face as we made our way towards the bathroom. We sensually undressed each other, hands roaming along each other's body, lips tugging, tongues groving. We barely made it underneath the shower, Dabi flipping on the water as he put his hands around my thighs and lifted me up with one strong jerk and manhandled me against the wall. As the water kept pouring over us like hot rain, our kisses intensified, tongues playing, lips nipping, mouths sucking, drinking in each other's moans. Our bodies were pressed against each other, fitting together like two parts of a whole, finally complete. The longing was so intense, we skipped the foreplay and he sheathed right into me, groaning loudly as I sank onto his length. He was rough, his grunts and hoarse growls made me shiver. Both pain and pleasure hit me at once as his thickness spread me open. The throb of his cock every time he bottomed out inside me was more than enough to have me see stars. He kept hitting that sensitive spot over and over again until my body was trembling in his arms. He stared up at me, deep insatiable hunger in his eyes, filled with fire, longing and passion. I felt myself hurl towards an orgasm at lightning speed with the pace he kept up. 

I moaned into his passionate kiss m’gonna cum and he groaned in response, burying his face into the crook of my neck. As I felt the tension reach its peak I let out a loud whail, closing my eyes as my walls clamped around him, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through me, having my mind fog over. Dabi's groans muffled by my skin as he sheathed balls deep into me one final time, shooting his sticky white load deep inside me. The water kept washing over us as we both panted, coming down from our high. Our lips met, kissing longingly as we whispered sweet words of affection into each other's mouths, endless strings of love you and mine and need you.

After we left the shower, dried ourselves and got dressed, he sat in his recliner, legs spread and palms resting on his crotch. He cocked his head, eyes half-lidded, a smug grin on his face. 

"So, babydoll, what'd ya do to have Shigaraki give up his Spoils?"

I smiled seductively as I stepped up to him, cupping his face in my hands, lips so close I could feel his breath on mine. I looked into his smoldering turquoise eyes, his smug grin still on his face as I lowered my lips to his ear and breathed out “I fucked that Sub senseless... “ 

I straightened up and saw that his grin was replaced by a blunt stare, eyes wide with disbelief. I strolled towards the door, glancing back at him over my shoulder. "Coming with me or just gonna sit there and keep on gawking…"

His perplexed expression changed into a wide smirk as he jumped up and sauntered over to me, hands in his pockets. He flung one arm around my shoulder, pulling me towards him, humming approvingly “Damn, babygirl, need to show me what you did to him. “ 

"Oh- tonight, tonight I will" I cood, tangling my fingers into his hair, bringing him in for another kiss as he chuckled, sliding his arms around my waist and pressing me to his body.

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

Thanks for reading!

@scruffymctee @sage-malf0y @undefined–person

[lavishedinjimin]

bts reaction -> you do something that upsets/angers them

woah! finally, a new reaction post?? 

(all gifs used are not mine!) 

Namjoon:

Well, well, well, what could you have possibly said to create an argument with Namjoon. He, for one, doesn’t like arguments. He would instead talk to you and settle all the problems without raising his voice.

But if the argument does get too far, he’s making sure that he gets his point across, even if his words might sting.

Namjoon sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at you who was standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

“I did nothing wrong, Y/n,” he states with a deep yet calm tone, “You didn’t tell me that I had to run errands. How would I when I’m in the studio with the boys?”

He raises his brow when you stomp your feet on the wooden floor. Eyeing you up and down, his blood slowly rises when he feels like you’re acting insensitive.

“But you knew that we had no groceries left!”

Namjoon suppresses his anger like he always does, “Stop being selfish, Y/n. Tell me, who’s paying your bills?” he points his chin out.

“Hey, I pay half of our bills!”

“There you go. That just means you also shouldn’t be depending on me so much when I’m busy doing work, okay?”

(aln: this gif is so fucking hot istg i’m on my knees) 

Seokjin:

You feel the other side of the bed dip, signaling that someone had come into bed with you. Peeking your eyes open just slightly, you feel your body relaxing as you finally saw Seokjin after a long, hard day.

“Hey, darling,” you whisper, scooting closer to him to hug his body. Seokjin murmurs something under his breath, but you didn’t quite grasped what it was. 

Seokjin moves around, furrowing his eyebrows as a groan escapes his mouth. “Please…”

Ignoring the word, you instantly scatter his face with kisses, kissing his forehead and down to his plump lips.

“Not now, Y/n.”

“Why?” you pout, “lemme kiss you. I haven’t seen you all day.” You continue your mischief on him, placing open-mouthed kisses all over.

With eyes still closed, he pushes you away with both hands.

Shocked, you look at him in awe of what he just did.

“That’s so rude,” you scoff.

“I just want to sleep, Y/n. I’m tired and I don’t want to talk.”

Silence fills the room as you sullenly observe him pull the covers over his body. He rubs his face with his hands as he lets go of an exasperated sigh. “Get over it. I had a bad day, okay? I just want silence and a night of good sleep, that’s all I want right now.”

You know how Seokjin gets mad. His words are his weapon. You think that it’s much better leaving him alone than further pushing his buttons. Tomorrow will be another day.

Yoongi:

Yoongi doesn’t get angry that often. It’s quite impressive how he can calm himself down and avoid the anger. But it’s also alarming – because whenever he does get angry, he can become outright terrifying and a guilt-tripping madman.

“Is it because I don’t talk to you enough?” Yoongi alarms through the phone, the rage in his voice evident even though you can’t see his face. “Huh? Is it because I don’t give you enough attention?”

“It’s not like that! You have to understand that he’s just a friend!” You grip the phone tighter in your damp hand. 

“I bet that guy treated you better, hm? I bet that’s the reason.” Yoongi’s voice was filled with bitter sarcasm as he speaks. The tone of his voice makes you clench your fist in annoyance. It was clear that he was manipulating you with his words, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

“You know what? Whatever, Y/n. You do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care. But get ready for when I get home, you’re gonna get some serious fucking punishment.”

There was a long, thick silence after his sentence. You can feel your heartbeat thump loudly in your chest, upset in both yourself and in Yoongi.

“It isn’t my intention to upset you,” you sigh, “you’re the one that I care about. Always.”

“Then show it to me.”

You gasped. Are your actions not enough for him to believe you? 

Hoseok:

Hoseok can be immensely intimidating when angry. Those eyes that can show the sweetest candy smile, with a single wrong move, they can turn into the most devilish gaze someone has ever seen.

Even his members find him scary whenever he’s mad.

As you watch the band practice their choreography for their performance next week, you couldn’t keep your eyes on Hoseok. The way his body just moves smoothly without any imperfections at all, it was clear that he was made for dancing and performing on stage.

Park Jimin calls off for a break and the members rush to their respective corners to catch their breath. Hoseok walks to the other side of the practice room where he sits down. Until suddenly, Jimin comes to your direction with a sly smirk on his face.

“Did you like the choreo?” he says, voice sort of raspy and out of breath. You giggle, “Yes. It was fire.”

“Mhm…” he places his hands on the table in front of you and leans forward, making your eyes widen. What is he doing…?

His eyes were almost slitted, licking his lips. You can’t help but notice small droplets of sweat trickling down from his temples and to his jawline, and how the light reflex the dampness of his neck. “Were you watching me?”

“H-Huh?” You stutter, mouth agape. “Yeah. You’re so good, Jimin, as always,” you respond while tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Jimin’s grin widens, satisfied with your answer. Before he can give a verbal reply, Hoseok was right behind him and he swiftly pushes Jimin aside. He gives him a ‘look’ paired with a shake of his head. He whispers something to Jimin as he walks away.  

Hoseok lifts his chin whilst he looks down at you with those menacing dark brown eyes. “Are you enjoying your time here?”

“Well,” you gulp, “Yes.”

He looks away for a second, brushing his hair back. You can hear that he took a deep sigh. Placing his forearms on the table, he stares directly into your eyes. His irises burn deep into you as he takes a heavy breath, “You know how possessive I am of you, Y/n. Only—” he lifts his right hand and caresses your cheek, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip, “only look at me.”

Jimin:

Jimin was clicking away on his laptop as he sits on the barstool, eyes glued on the screen for he didn’t even notice that you’ve walked up behind him. Slowly, you wrap your arms around his waist. His body jumps in utter shock.

“Babe,” he groans, “don’t do that again. Don’t surprise me like that.”

His tone was plain and sharp, bringing an attitude that signifies that he is annoyed.

Perhaps he needs more love and attention?

Inhaling his scent, you rest your cheek against his back. The sounds of the keys clicking were slowly becoming irritating, so you snatch his hands away to hold them in your grasp.

“Wha—Y/n!” he yells, but you unrightfully ignore him.

“C’mon, baby. Just rest for a while and come cuddle with me instead—”

“Cuddle?” he turns the stool around so he faces you. He scoffs, “You really want us to cuddle right now? When I’m in the middle of work?” he raises his voice at you, making you feel small. Trying your best not to be hurt by his razor-sharp timbre, you stand your ground. “Stop fucking annoying me and let me do my job, okay?”

“I’m just trying to—”

“—Just trying to help, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Please just, just leave me alone for a couple of minutes.”

But he will feel so fucking bad afterward, though. Jimin lets his emotions get the best of him and he used you to let it all out. You understand him, nonetheless. He is the type to bottle up his feelings. But deep down, you wish he would tell you everything that’s been bothering him, without having to keep them for himself. 

Taehyung:

Taehyung rarely gets mad at you. But whenever he does, he’s quick to apologize and forget about the situation because he doesn’t want to cause a much bigger problem.

So, stealing his food from the fridge wouldn’t annoy him, right?

He was supposed to come home early for tonight, but he informed you that he’ll be a little bit late because of traffic.

Although your hunger couldn’t wait any longer.

Taking the box of food out of the fridge, you did not hesitate to gobble them all up to feed your rumbling stomach. You know for a fact that he’s going to empathize with you anyway.

As he comes home, though, you weren’t still finished and he stops his tracks when he sees that you were eating his meal.

“Y/n!” he gasps, “This one is yours!” he says, raising the takeout box he bought on the way home. “You said you wanted Chinese, didn’t you?”

Uh-oh…

You slowly stand up from the dining table, walking your way out of the area with his food still in your hands with a little cheeky grin.

Taehyung pouts as he whines out your name, “I hate it when you do this! I was craving for that!” He stomps his foot, “This is so upsetting, you know.”

You feel your heart clench at that, “I’m sorry…”

“Come here, you!” Taehyung all of a sudden, runs to catch you, signaling your fight or flight response. You shriek and dashed all around the dining room, trying to avoid Taehyung as much as possible. He had his arms sprawled across like an eagle, cackling.

Once you let him catch you, he hugs your body tightly in his grasp. “Hmm? You’re so naughty, babe. You know I can’t get mad at you for too long.” He grabs the food box away from you and sets it aside. He whispers, “But don’t do this again.”

Jungkook:

“I mean, look at her, Jungkook. Doesn’t her face irritate you?” you inquire at him, showing an Instagram picture of that one girl you despise. She had her whole butt on screen, tongue out, showing off her long acrylic nails.

Sitting on the couch beside you, Jungkook purses his lips and looks at the screen. “Hmm.” He says plainly.

“Goddamn, whenever I see her in real life my saliva turns sour, y’know? Ugh¸ I hate her so much.” You can feel your nerves rile up, throwing your feet on the coffee table in front of you.

Jungkook speaks, “What has she done to you?” he says in a monotone voice.

“Uh,” you turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow, “Why?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Just wondering.”

“Okay, fine,” You roll your eyes, “She has done nothing, all right? But—”

He laughs unexpectedly, making you crease your forehead both in frustration and perplexity.

Jungkook himself was never the type to create arguments or say what he feels out loud. He would most likely internalize his thoughts and opinions and waits for the perfect timing to affront.

But if there’s a moment where he a situation feels unfair, he’s not afraid to stand up for what he believes.

“You know that’s wrong, darling,” he sighs, scooting over to you. He swings his right arm around your shoulder and tugs your figure closer. “There’s no reason to hate someone without having a definitive reason. C’mon, just ignore her if she bothers you so much.”

You frown, “But…”

“But what? Baby, if you do this one more time, I’ll be very upset. More upset in you than I am right now.”

Immediately, you jerk your head to look at him. With puppy dog eyes, you apologize, “Sorry.”

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Lay All your Love on Me (Chapter 8) (Part 2)

Paring: Dark Soft Alpha Lee Bodecker x Female Omega Reader

Summary: After moving to Knockemstiff, Ohio with your troubled parents, you find solace in the local Seven-Eleven. There, you bump into the Alpha sheriff, Lee Bodecker.

And then you keep bumping into him. There’s just something about the chubby Alpha that keeps drawing you in. Now there’s something going on with the new preacher of the church that you attend. Everything’s a mess.

But you’re an unbonded Omega. Life can turn to shit anyway.

Chapter Warnings: This chapter includes more possessive behavior from our Alpha Daddy. Maybe some stalking too? Just a little bit of smut in this one. Some vaginal fingering. As well as some fluff and a marriage proposal from Lee. Not officially, that'll be in a later chapter, but they do discuss marriage. There are death threats and gun violence from our Omega Reader. And we can count the dead body in this chapter, lol. Talk of unplanned pregnancy and rape in this one.

Additional Notes: Part two was a lot longer than I thought it was, and I didn't want to cram it all in one single chapter, because there was just so much going on that I didn't want to confuse anyone. So, that's why I had to split it in half. So this is the second half! Much longer than part one, lol. Please refer to the chapter warnings before proceeding, and minors, DNI.

Word Count: 7,262

The familiar dinging of the Seven-Eleven brought you back.

Back to the first time you had met Lee.

Officially.

A warm feeling rushed through you. Almost like you were giddy. A pep in your step as you showed Sandy to the way of the lovely drinks of heaven, aka slushies.

There was familiar music playing.

You even said hello to the cashier up at the front when you had come in.

The linoleum aisles really brought you back.

You had so many happy memories with Lee here.

It made you feel so warm.

Your Omega was delighted to be back at a place she was familiar with. This place… she knew this place. She spent time with her Alpha here. Memories of you and Lee came back.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

“Okay… so you can choose whatever flavor ya want. They got cherry, Lee really likes that one, blueberry, and grape. I like to get cherry and blueberry. Mix em together. Tastes and looks nice.”

Nods came from Sandy. She watched as you filled up Lee’s cup with the cherry, happily humming a tune under your breath. Then you did yours. Mixing the red and blue together with your straw, before you plopped the correct lids on.

Click. Click.

The sounds of you sticking the straws in made Sandy come back. You were smiling, even as you took a small sip of your mixed slushie.

A slow smile stretched onto her face.

“Okay… I think I get it now. Any flavor, you said?” She questioned you.

“Mhmmm… any flavor.” came your response.

Sandy’s gaze turned to the grape flavor.

A full smile spread onto her face.

“… What do you mean, we’re leavin’ early?”

You were blinking. Your mother just let out a sigh. You looked so confused.

Laying on the big folding chairs in the backyard of Lee’s home, wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts underneath your bikini top and bottoms.

Because of the fucking creep in your house. You wanted to avoid him, and be cautious if he was looking at you from the windows.

“… Emma called again. After lunch. Lee gave me the phone, and she explained to me the issue with Lenora. So I told her we’d be going early. Is that okay?”

Was it okay?

Was it okay?

You shifted your body, so you could be laying on your side. Your fingers tapped against the folding chair when you answered your mother.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I’m not sure if I’m okay with leaving Lee and his sister with that freak inside the house, mama.”

Said freak being your technical brother-in-law.

It wasn’t like you were married to Lee or anything. But the thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Made you feel all fuzzy inside. Your head lift.

You had given the idea some thought. Would you entertain the idea as well? Sometimes. Did you want to marry him?

After much deliberation, yes. Yes, you wanted to marry this man.

Oh did you want to marry him.

So badly.

But with the current weirdo in your house, you probably couldn’t even talk to Lee about it. Because every time Carl was in a room with you, you just avoided talking to anyone altogether. Other than the times where you would be in bed with Lee. Then yes. Other than that, no. Not at all.

Up came your mama’s hand towards her forehead.

She had been anticipating this.

Oh yes, she had.

Because you weren’t wrong.

Carl had so many red flags.

So many red flags.

Many, many red flags.

Every time she saw him, your mother’s fight or flight reflex would act up.

It was like looking at her husband almost.

Terrified could be one word to explain how your mother felt around the man. Almost like she felt as if she was walking on eggshells around him.

He just gave her so many bad vibes.

“I know sweetheart, I know. But Lee will be fine. He’s the sheriff. He can handle himself.” Was what she told you. Tried to reassure your nerves.

You, however, were not that reassured so easily.

You still raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

You were worried for your Alpha.

How could you not be? He was your Alpha, for fucks sake. You were bonded to the Sheriff of Knockemstiff. He was your Alpha. Your Lee. Your Daddy.

You had a right to be worried about him.

So you couldn’t help it.

It was perfectly reasonable.

Very reasonable, in fact.

“I dunno mama… I’m still a little bit worried.” You admitted quietly.

And your mother could understand that.

Even with her Beta status, she knew how it would affect a recently bonded Pair.

Because you were recently Mated.

She saw the bite mark on your neck from Lee that proclaimed you as his. The fucking entire county probably knew you were his alone by the bite in your neck. And if anyone were to speak an ill word against you, well, your Daddy would set them straight. Lee Bodecker, Sheriff Lee Bodecker would see to it that no one spoke any ill word against his mate.

Because you were his. His alone. His Omega. His other half. Lee knew for a fact that he would murder for you. Hell, if you even asked him to murder someone, he would still do it. Because that was how much his love ran for you. It was so deep.

And now that you had his bite on your Mating Gland, well, he knew for a damn fact that if someone were to take you, they would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands. Or body. They would have to kill him first to get to you. And he wasn’t going to let that happen.

As you and your mother were in his backyard, laying on the foldable chairs from where he watched from your shared bedroom that used to be his once upon a time, he watched.

Was it out of line, or even creepy to be stalking you?

Probably.

But did he care?

No.

Absolutely not. He didn’t give a single flying fuck anymore.

You were his now. So he had a right to be concerned, where his other half was.

Completely reasonable.

But Lee… Lee didn’t know where this surge of possessiveness had come from.

Ever since you had bitten his Mating Gland and you and your mother had moved in, the Bond complete, Lee felt something shift inside of him. Almost like a change in the air.

For the past couple of nights, weeks even, you had been adjusting. Throwing out your nest over and over again. Lee would hear you in the bedroom when he’d come back from work, having thrown your nest across the room like you were a freaking superhero. Grumbling and hissing underneath your breath about it not being in its proper place.

Throw out. Fix again. Throw out. Fix again.

Rinse and repeat that for the past few nights, and now, now as Lee moved so he could sit comfortably in the nest, watching you get up after saying something to your mother that made her sigh in fondest, padding back into the house, it was perfect.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sounds of your footsteps smacking against the hardwood floors of the hallway caught his attention.

Seeing you at the doorway, mumbling and spewing curses underneath your breath as you slammed the bedroom door shut behind you, shoving your shorts down. Revealing your bikini bottoms. He watched as you slipped on a pair of jeans like it was nothing. Shimmying into them and hissing to yourself, oddly sounding like, “stupid fuckin’ creepy motherfuckin’ Betas,” or something like that. Grabbing a scrunchie from your vanity that you had moved in from your house, tying your hair up. A few strands of hair falling free into your face, which you tucked away behind your ears.

When you finally did look at him, a genuine, real smile stretched over your face. Walking over, allowing the beacon that was your Alpha, your Daddy, his big, strong arms wrapping around you, surrounding you in his scent that reminded you of home.

Nuzzling your face into his shoulder, against his uniform. Against that star embedded into his uniform that made the slightest bit of arousal leak from your pussy.

A soft, gentle sigh was expressed from you.

His voice was throaty when he spoke.

“When you come back from visitin’ Arvin and his folks…”

Up came your head. Looking at him, encouraging him to go on with that wide, innocent look in your eyes that you saved only for him.

A nod.

He continued.

“I want to get married. I want you to wear my ring and my mark. I want you to have my name.”

His hands came to cup your face as he talked. You listened.

Thrill ran down your spine.

“… Want it, Daddy… want Daddy all to myself… want your name, Daddy…” your response was breathy as you looked at him.

Something broke in him.

Shattered.

Cause just then, Lee had grabbed you, spun your around, landing right on top of your vanity. He made sure to not smack you down loud. You had guests in the house, after all.

Well.

Sandy was in the living room with your mother, who had just come in. Carl, thank fuck, was out doing god fucking knows what.

There was a noise of Lee unzipping your jeans. He shoved them down your ankles. In fact, just for good measure, he shoved your bikini panties down too. Shoved three thick fingers into your pussy that was already leaking.

You gasped.

Keened, even.

How could you not?

Although… although you would’ve preferred your Daddy’s tongue, his fingers worked just fine. That feeling of your pussy being plugged always gave you pure bliss.

Pump. Squish. Pump. Squish.

Lee’s breath ghosted against your mating gland, making a shudder run down your spine as he fucked you with his fingers.

All the while, secure in the knowledge that his own little sister and future-mother-in-law were in the next room.

No more fucks had been given.

You were so full.

Oh so full.

You were cumming in no time at all, your walls clenching down harshly onto Lee’s fingers. Shuddering as you came. Feeling like someone had smacked the air out of your lungs.

Deep breaths and pants came from you.

His lips were pressed down onto your mating gland. The tip of his tongue peeking out, before his tongue licked your gland, making your hips stutter. His fingers still buried deep inside of you, all the way up to his knuckles.

He was buried so deep inside of you, but still, that wasn’t enough.

And then his fingers were moving again. Pushing back up inside of you, filling your pussy up.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

Keening noises came from you. Wet, squishing noises echoed with every thrust of Lee’s fingers plunging back into your wet cunt. You had to hold onto your vanity, gripping the edge so tight that your knuckles were turning white. You were so wet and turned on, having just come once already.

It wasn’t until you came for a second time, your second orgasm piggybacking from your first one, a soft little whimper filling the bedroom as you clamped down onto his fingers, your breathing turning a little breathless. Softer.

“Daddy…” your voice was softer, bringing the Alpha back.

Squirming came from you when Lee licked your gland again. Your back arched up against his front, your toes curling up, making you rise a few inches. His arms wrapped around you, his scent coiling around you.

“Mean it,” his voice was a little rough, “wanna give you my name, babydoll. Want this whole goddamn fuckin’ county to know who your Alpha is.”

Your pussy throbbed. A low hiss came from Lee at the sensation.

“When my ma and I get back… when we get back… we’ll do it. It’ll be the first thing we do, Daddy.”

“Promise?”

His voice was a low rumble, making a deep shudder spread down your spine.

“Promise.”

When you turned so you could look at him, Lee noticed you trembling.

“I… I mean it, you know.”

You were shaking. Absolutely feeling so many emotions all at once.

“I… I really do wanna marry you. I got your mark already but… I want your name. Your ring. I really do. I already got ya mark but… I really want it. You. All of you. I… I want your pups too, Daddy.”

Words were coming out so quickly you weren’t really quite sure what you were saying either.

But the next words… those next three words… you remembered them. You remembered them well.

“I love you… I love you so much,” you were crying. When had you started crying?

But whatever now.

You were crying and spilling out your feelings like a lovesick teenager.

Your Lee, your Alpha, your Daddy, he wrapped his strong arms around you, bringing you closer to him as his head dipped down, his tongue flattening against your gland, making your ears pop. His scent overflowing your nose as he scented you. Marked you. Your body shuddered against his. Your Omega was overjoyed.

Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha is a good Alpha.

“I love you too, Little Omega.”

A couple of hours later...

Something was deeply wrong once you and your mother had driven up to Coal Creek.

It was like a fog that had seeped through your bones, once you had gotten up to the house.

However, you were broken out of your current train of thought when you saw Arvin running out of the house, running towards you, picking you up, and making you squeal.

Alphas and their strength.

“Everythin’s been so boring without you!” The young Alpha complained once he put you down, “the whole house’s been silent except for Lenora’s puking!”

Puking?

How… peculiar.

Very interesting.

It made you raise an eyebrow, as Arvin helped you and your mother inside as your sleepy brain tried to rack at what Arvin had just said.

But you didn’t dwell on it for far too long, considering once you had finally lodged your suitcase into your room, you had crashed immediately on the spot.

What had made you wake up from your slumber though, was puking.

Someone was puking their guts out in the bathroom.

Groggily, you stirred.

Even made a noise of deep discomfort from being woken up. Your Omega even stirred. She was also not very happy with these changes of events. You heard her in your mind, grumbling unhappily at the Omega who was currently vomiting her guts out.

After you managed to lodge yourself out of bed, you padded down the hallway, down to the bathroom, where the vomiting had been coming from.

What you saw made you nearly shriek.

Lenora cried out in surprise.

But that wasn’t what you were focusing on.

Your eyes were wide.

Your nose smelled something.

Something was very wrong with Lenora. You sniffed at the air.

Strange.

The brunette Omega watched as you walked over to where she was, kneeling over the toilet. She watched you get onto your knees, grabbing some paper to wipe her mouth.

“Need you to stand. Can you stand?” You asked her.

A nod.

Being as careful as possible, you helped Lenora up to her feet, helping her to the sink. Helping to rinse her mouth. Lenora coughed and spluttered the first few times. But eventually, you managed to help her rinse her mouth clean of any bile or puke.

“I’m gonna need ya to brush ya teeth. Can you do that? Brush your teeth?”

Another nod came from her.

Nodding at her, you quietly gave her some space. Some time to brush her teeth, while you scurried out of the bathroom and down the hallway again, into the living room.

After scouring around for everyone or anyone else who could be in the little house with you and Lenora, you found that it was just the two of you.

The Russell’s car wasn’t in the driveway. But your mother’s car was still in the driveway, which you assumed that she had caught a ride with Emma and Arvin. Finding yourself back in the kitchen, you also found that she had left the keys on the dining table.

You heard her spit into the sink. Then you heard the sounds of the sink being turned on and off. Padding footsteps made you aware of the fact that she was coming into the kitchen where you were.

That uneasy feeling filled you up again.

“So… how long have you been pukin’?”

Lenora blinked in surprise.

“U-Um…” she looked almost nervous, her voice stuttering. “A-About… a week now? I dunno why. Maybe I’m comin’ down with somethin’-”

You sniffed the air again. Lenora looked confused.

“What’re you doin’?” she asked, bewildered.

Still, you continued to sniff the air.

“Arvin said you presented. Did you have any toys? Emma provide you with any?” you inquired. Lenora’s cheeks flushed. “I- no. N-No. I never… I never got to.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Whatcha mean, you never got to? You’re supposed to?! You stayed home, right?!”

“N-No.”

You were even more confused.

“Lenora…” you were still very confused, but you didn’t want to frighten her. Scare her. Nothing of the sort. So your voice became gentler. “Lenora… when you present… you’re supposed to stay home. Your presentation… it hurts like a bitch.”

Lenora made a noise.

“Language!”

You waved that away.

“Bah,” you were unbothered, “you’ll cuss eventually. It comes to everyone.” Undeterred, you went on. “Any penny saver… your presentation. It hurts a lot. You’ll go into heat right after. It’s what happened to me.”

“Did it… how much did it hurt?” Lenora asked you tensely. Almost as if she was walking on eggshells. Clapping a hand gently on her shoulder, you steered her to the couch. It was time for a heart-to-heart. Omega to Omega.

“Well… it depends on the person. For me, it hurt like a bitch. It felt like… I felt like I was doing to die. As dramatic as that shit sounds… it really did hurt. My Ma had to send me to the damn ER cause all I would do was climb the walls like a bitch in heat. The whole thing… it felt like I wasn’t really… myself. Like I wasn’t all there, you know? Like… I was there. Subconsciously. But my designation… my Mega… she was in control. It’s kinda a helpless feelin’, bein’ in heat. All you want to do is fuck and breed. It’s what your designation craves. Needs. After though… I was still in pain a little bit. After-effects of heat. And I was really tired. Conked out for the next couple of days to recover. That’s why you gotta get a week off of school. Why weren’t cha in the house recoverin’? Where were you?”

Although now, you were thinking to yourself.

You were Bonded now.

You had a Bondmate. You had an Alpha.

You had never told Lee about your heats. About how much they hurt. For as long as you could remember, they were always painful. Many trips to the ER and hospitals didn’t do you any good. You had to be quarantined from everyone else because your scent was so strong. So thick. You remembered throwing fits, pounding your fists on walls, and screaming because it hurt so much. Your designation would wail and rage within you, wanting her needs to be met. Your Omega, your Omega was truly one of a kind.

In truth, you could admit to yourself why you hadn’t told him just yet.

You were terrified.

Truly utterly terrified.

What if you hurt him?

What if you killed him?

What if he saw what you were capable of during your heat and decided it was too much?

No.

No, no, no.

The mere thought of it was breaking your heart.

Your Alpha, your Daddy, he wouldn’t do that to you.

Would he?

Lenora faltered. Even paused. She looked like she had been slapped.

She had gone silent.

You sniffed at the air again. You could smell her scent of vanilla and cherries, yes, and while your brain processed that this was an Omega in front of you, something just wasn’t feeling right in your gut.

A darker, deeper feeling was twisting your stomach. It made your brain go into darker thoughts.

Lenora looked almost terrified. Her eyes kept darting around. Her scent shifted and started to burn your nose. Your eyes even watered a bit, smelling how her sweet scent slowly turned sour.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me where you were. But I need you to listen to me carefully, okay?”

Your voice was nothing but gentle as you gently looked at the younger Omega. Your voice washed over her, coaxing her. You were sending off soothing pheromones, calming her frantic and shaking form.

Lenora let out a sniff.

“The world for us Omegas… it’s a dark and dangerous place out there. Always gotta be on our guard. Fuckin’ knuckleheaded Alphas who can’t take no for an answer. And for us women… well, we still gotta be on our guard. Men are stupid.”

A choked noise came from Lenora.

It made your Omega straighten up.

Your head cocked to the side.

Suddenly, it clicked.

Shit, shit, shit.

She was pregnant.

Lenora was fucking pregnant with a fucker’s pup.

You couldn’t explain the feeling that had run through you. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water over your head. It gripped you like a vice. Trapping and ensuring you in place. You might’ve even called the feeling pure horror seeping through your bones.

But you wouldn’t call it pure horror that was running through your veins at this moment. It was more than that.

“Lenora… were you visiting your mother?”

She only responded back to you with one word.

“ Yes.”

Now…

You had never been one for faith.

You weren’t a believer.

Not even when you had been younger.

You didn’t know why you didn’t believe. You hadn’t really given it much thought as you had grown older. Going to church seemed like an obligation. Almost as if you had to go. Truth be told, you always fell asleep during the sermons. So there was that.

But as you drove your mother’s car down to the church, your jaw was tight.

Those dark thoughts were back.

It had been a while since you had slipped into that dark headspace. Not only that, but it had been a while since you had actually driven a car. These days, you didn’t really drive, considering you just walked everywhere. A small town did that to you.

Growing up, especially in your dysfunctional household, your parent’s car was almost like an escape for you. Other than your room. Even then though, whenever you’d sit in your parent’s car, hearing the shouting coming from inside the house, the car didn’t quite still feel like your own.

Unlike the car, your room was strictly yours. Yours and yours alone. Your parent’s cars had their names on them. So it didn’t really feel like yours.

However, your new bedroom, after the attack, it didn’t quite feel like yours anymore. To be completely and utterly honest, you had felt like you had been in haze for the past couple of weeks. Like you were just here. Like a star up in the sky, aimlessly floating through space and time, just observing everything around you.

You felt like a ghost.

Although, at this moment, you didn’t feel quite as empty as you had been these past couple of weeks.

Now?

Now you felt ready and secure to kill a man.

An Alpha.

Never had you ever felt so angry to the point of violence. You weren’t a fucking pansy. You weren’t a fucking pacifist. You believed that if violence was truly needed, that you would use it. Only if it was the last possible option. Then yes, you would fuck shit up.

Here and now, however, violence was truly your one and only option.

Emma, Arvin, and your mother had come home to the Russell house a bit ago. You told them that you’d be going into town and that you would be dropping off at the church, to clean up Lenora’s mother’s grave and put new flowers down.

So, with a newly bought bouquet of flowers, a scrubber, and some water in an old plastic bottle, you drove off to the church.

But you had a darker motive in mind.

As you drove up, you made sure to wear your Mate’s leather jacket. Somehow, smelling Lee’s scent, it made you feel safe. That what you were about to do was okay and justified.

It was okay.

It was going to be okay.

Finding a place to park the car, you took the keys out of the ignition. Stuffing the keys into the front pocket of your dress, you got out of the car with all of your things. Your eyes were sharp and focused, blood roaring through your veins. Even your Omega was in full and complete support. The entire duration of the car ride, she strayed, staying at the back of your mind, tapping her paw in turn. She was silent and feeling quite deadly. Ready to rip a man’s throat out. Her anger kept perfectly under control. But she was like a ticking bomb. She just needed one thing to tip her off, and you were pretty sure that if she wanted to take over and attack a man, that you wouldn’t be complaining.

Not really.

The sounds of scrubbing slowly filled your ears as the birds chirped in the trees. You were wearing gloves because you weren’t fucking stupid. Plus, you didn’t really like these gloves anyway. Your mother had bought them for you a few years back, because they were on sale at Sears and because she thought that had looked nice.

They looked fucking hideous.

Absolutely an abomination to gloves. But, they were easy to put on and take off. So that was a plus, you supposed.

Only when you had put down the bouquet of flowers did you hear a noise.

A leaf crunched.

Someone was walking towards you. From where you were, knelt over Helen Laferty’s grave, your head turned.

Immediately, your Omega screeched in alarm.

It was him.

The Alpha that had single-handily ruined Lenora’s life.

Preston Teagardin, with his scent of maple and something musky, made itself known to you.

Not that you wanted to know.

Not really.

“Preacher,” was your cold response as you turned your head back, and adjusted the flowers.

He couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

He had noticed you driving a car into the church. Saw you pull in, dressed in a dress with all of your crinolines underneath your dress, making your skirts puffy and out there. He had seen you get out, with all of your materials. You looked like a woman on a mission. And well, he was definitely curious.

Subconsciously though, his Alpha was telling him something was wrong. But Preston being Preston, ignored it.

Your scent had intrigued him. You smelled wonderful. Like freshly baked chocolate chips.

Although now, especially with that leather jacket draped over your shoulders, clinging to your form, making you look smaller, he caught another whiff in his nose. A deeper scent. It was a masculine scent. Chocolate and bourbon filled his nose too. He almost thought maybe you had a brother who was an Alpha, but then his eyes fell upon the bite on your mating gland that you showed proudly.

You had an Alpha.

The last he had seen of you, you had not had an Alpha.

So that meant you were recently bonded.

Preston didn’t know whether to be shocked or angry that you were bonded.

Finally finished with your work, you turned back to the still shell-shocked preacher and stood up. Brushing off your skirts.

“You know preacher, it’s quite interesting.”

He was confused.

“What’s confusing?”

Your lips stretched into a smile.

“It’s quite confusing to me. I’ve never been one for faith. Never truly got into the church, or believed in Him. I’m not very spiritual, or religious. Never have been. Never truly believed in a higher power. But that’s not all that puzzles me. You wanna know what truly puzzles me though, Preacher?”

When he didn’t answer, you cocked your head to the side appraisingly. You took a step forward. He took a step back.

“It truly puzzles and interests me that you, you’re a Man of God, aren’t you, Preacher? You’ll listen to someone if they need to confess their sins, won’t you? Take it to the grave? That’ll it just be between me and you?” you inquired. You tilted your head back, looking at him. Waiting for an answer.

“I-I…” Preston stammered, making you tilt your head again, almost like a dog looking at its master.

“Because really, I find it very, very, very interesting that you’re not aware that rape is forbidden in the Bible. Don’t you know when the disciples asked Jesus what they should do about their sexual urges, that Jesus told them to gouge out their eyes? And don’t you know that when Omegas present, that they’re supposed to stay home? And don’t you know, that you’re mated and married to an Omega who doesn’t know that her Alpha and husband is a motherfucking rapist?!”

Preston threw his hands up in surrender.

“No one’s going to care. Who do you think the masses are going to believe? A spineless Omega or a Preacher?”

Your eyes flashed dangerously. In less than a second, you pulled out a familiar-looking pistol from underneath your dress and pointed the weapon right in Preston’s face. You knew it was fully loaded. But, just to check, you made sure to reload.

“W-Wait- this is a mistake-” he stammered, stepping away from you. You watched his feet stumble. He tripped on his own feet, falling into the grass. He continued to push back.

“Believe it or not, I am not a huge fan of violence. Neither is my Alpha. He looks out for me. He’s an amazing Bondmate. I don’t think you’d like him either. He’s the one who gave me this before I came here with my Mama. Just in case. This world’s dangerous, you know.”

You had worn your special shoes for the occasion.

You were not wearing your kitten heels.

No.

You were wearing stilettos. Which, now would be considered out of fashion. But you had been gifted a pair from your Daddy. So, therefore, they were special and were to be worn on only special occasions.

And wasn’t this a special occasion?

You considered it one.

You didn’t even bother to reload a second time. You knew you were fully loaded. And besides, you weren’t going to kill him.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

You’d just give him a fate worse than death.

Seeing his terrified form, you aimed your gun down.

Right there, the pistol facing his left hand.

A gunshot rang out.

You heard a scream. Maybe even a yell.

Moving your pistol down lower, your second bullet went right into his left thigh, dangerously close to his dick. You saw the tears. But you didn’t feel remorseful. This Alpha had harmed a member of your Pack. Why should you listen if he begged for mercy? Which he was. You were hearing his pleas. His begs for forgiveness. You knew right then and there, that your Alpha, your Daddy, would have never spared this man’s life.

However, you were not your Daddy.

You weren’t Lee.

So while Preston was still there, laying on the ground, you made sure to get right down on your knees, your left hand grabbing and twisting his left hand, making sure he wouldn’t touch you. Your knees completely spread, so that you would be nice and comfy.

Lee’s pistol cocked right on his temple.

“P-Please- you’re- you’re makin’ some type of mistake-” Preston pleaded, but you narrowed your eyes.

“No,” your tone was completely cold and unmoving, “No, I don’t think I am. I smelled you on her. Are you doubting my nose, Preacher? But don’t worry, I won’t be ending your worthless life today. Be happy that I won’t shoot your goddamn cock off. And besides, you should be grateful I didn’t shoot your right hand. If I truly didn’t give a shit, I would’ve fucking murdered you and left you for the birds. They’ll eat anything. Especially pieces of shit like you. But I don’t think even birds would want to feast on you.”

"I ever see or hear you rape another goddamn Omega, I'll make sure to really kill you. Consider this a goddamn motherfucking warning."

Getting up, and ignoring his whimpers that truly made him sound like a pathetic Omega in heat, you gathered your things.

As you walked past him, back to your mother’s car, you spoke one last time.

“Don't be sad, Preacher. Ya still got a right hand. I know it’s not your dominant hand. But you have a right hand, Preacher. Use it.”

Later on in the evening, back at Knockemstiff with Lee…

Believe it or not, but Lee Bodecker did not enjoy killing.

Even though he knew he was a corrupt Sheriff.

He had heard the rumors. The whispers. Gossip flew around quickly. Especially in a small town like Knockemstiff.

And the saddest part was that they were right.

Someone like Lee, someone who looked like Lee didn’t get to the Sheriff position without a little bit of darkness in him. Lee had long accepted the fact that he had crossed the point of no return. That if there was truly a God up there, with Heaven, that he would never be permitted to enter. He already knew with all the killing, deception- that his soul was black and damned.

There was no going back now.

Lee’s eyes were gazed, focused on the chair on his right. He could smell your lingering scent on it. If he leaned back and closed his eyes and focused hard enough, he could probably hear your laughter. He could probably imagine your smile too. Just the thought of that black box shoved in the top drawer of his dresser made his heart warm. Like there was something worth living for.

The sound of Sandy’s fork clanging on her ceramic plate caught Lee’s attention. He saw his little sister getting up, getting all of their empty plates, and marched right into the kitchen. Lee relaxed in his chair, hearing the sink turn on. Hearing the sounds of Sandy washing the plates.

For a moment, it was quiet. Lee could actually hear himself think. All leaned back, everything in his life nearly in peace and harmony.

“You know, I thought about her for a long time before I actually saw her again.”

Carl jumped.

Actually jumped.

He had jumped in surprise.

“We met at church, you know. Me and my Mega.” Lee was so relaxed, so deep in old memories.

“Took me two weeks to see her again. I felt so sorry for drinkin’ the rest of her slushie. But I just wanted to know why she was just so in love with drinkin’ em. For those two weeks… all I thought about her.”

Which, Lee was technically speaking the truth.

But not the full truth.

He remembered, in those two weeks before he saw you again, all those sleepless nights spent in his bed.

And now, he thought, what if he had been a good man.

A good man didn’t slick up their cock with Vaseline and jerk off to the thought and memory of kissing a defenseless, young Omega who was probably nearly a decade younger than him.

A good man didn’t masturbate himself to the near brink of death in the shower thinking about just how good your pussy would be if he fucked you for the first time.

A good man didn’t masturbate to the thought of his young Omega partner whom he was courting, cumming at the thought of how tight her cunt would be, or if blood would trickle down her legs after taking her virginity.

Lee Bodecker however, was not a good man.

At all.

Remembering his brother-in-law’s words, Carl’s face went pale as a sheet. Lee was so relaxed without a care in the world that he didn’t even have the ball to be smug about it.

The sounds of Sandy's footsteps made both of the men look up.

“I brought the tea.”

Sandy Henderson, with her hair in rollers, wearing her nightgown and her slippers adorning her feet, gave her Big Brother and her husband a look. Her gaze on Carl lingered just a bit longer. As if she was giving him one last look.

There was a clunking noise as Sandy placed the little ceramic teacups with the little covers on top of the table. Handing one to Carl and Lee. Sandy herself sat down at one of the chairs, stirring her cup with a little spoon.

When Carl took the top off of his cup and drank from it, he felt there was something wrong. Something in his gut turned and twisted.

Lee wasn’t surprised to see Carl get up from his chair, and start to cough. Nor was he surprised to see Carl claw at his throat, blue spit dripping down the corners of his mouth. Sandy sat there, staring Carl directly in the eyes as her husband breathed his last breath before he fell to the floor.

The Omega watched her Beta husband die kneeling. Like a sinner confessing their sins.

“Hold on, won’t cha Big Brother? Gotta get something from the bedroom.” Sandy got up, even pushing her chair in like a good little housewife, before clamoring her way down into the hallway, into the guest room.

Sandy came back with a camera.

Carl’s camera.

The one that he used for all of his murder victims. Lee didn’t feel a chilling in his bones. Sandy got real close, good enough to take a full-body shot. But focused on the horrified look in her husband’s eyes. Ones that looked like ones of pleading. As if he was begging for repentance.

Lee heard the camera click. Sandy shook the camera, hearing it splutter for a second before she got the photo out. An almost satisfying, chill smile stretched over her lips.

“He had a lot of photos, Lee. But this one… this one’s my personal favorite.”

Getting up from his chair, Lee looked down to inspect the dead body of his former brother-in-law.

“Ya brought the marriage papers?”

“Yup,” replied Sandy.

“And the photos?” Lee raised an eyebrow.

“Brought all of 'em,” the blonde Omega said in almost a relieved voice.

“Good. You burn them. I’ll take care of his body.”

Sandy could get on board with that.

It was a plan.

With you, late in the early morning…

It seemed, after your detour with the Preacher, that you could not sleep.

You had tossed and turned in bed all night.

Eventually, you had thrown all of your fucks out the window and got up quietly from your bed, opening your door ever so slightly so you could slip through. Padding your way down the hall, to the kitchen. Where the phone was located on the wall.

Picking up the phone, you spun the dial.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

There was a moment of silence as you heard the phone connect.

There was another moment of silence before you heard the other person on the other line pick up.

“Ello?”

“Daddy.”

Lee breathed out a sigh of relief. Your Daddy sounded sleepy.

“Did I wake ya up, Daddy?” your voice was low. You didn’t want to wake anyone up.

“No, babydoll. I wasn’t sleepin’. Had a busy night, that’s all. Couldn’t sleep, could you baby?” his voice washed over you like thick syrup. You felt as if you were on frigging Cloud Nine. You felt so warm. So safe.

“Nu-uh… couldn’t sleep. Had quite a day today, Daddy.”

“Oh yeah?”

You heard some shuffling on his end of the line. Almost like he was moving around in bed.

“Miss you a lot, Daddy. The nest don’t smell like ya.”

“I miss you too, angel baby. Nest’s not the same without cha in it.”

He heard you intake in a deep breath. And then a deep shuddering noise came from you. Hoisting his legs over so he’d be sitting, he asked, “Ya alright, Mega?”

You faltered for just a split second.

“Daddy, I… I… I need to tell you something.”

That didn’t sound good.

Whenever Lee heard those words, or “we need to talk” in the past, then usually, those weren’t good words. Nothing good ever came out of those words.

“I’m listenin’, babydoll.”

He heard you take in another deep breath before you continued.

“I… my Omega… I feel like… like my heat’s slowly comin’. It ain’t gonna come tomorrow, or any day this week, but… I… I feel like my Omega’s warnin’ me as if she’s tellin’ me the storm’s bout to come my way… and… and I never told you but…” a loose sigh escaped your lips, “my heats are… awful. Every time they happened in the past… I felt like I wanted to die. They were so painful, Daddy. I don’t… I don’t wanna scare you…”

As Lee listened to you over the phone, it made him think of his own Rut.

He thought about how the week before he had seen you in that Seven-Eleven again, how he had gone right into a Rut. You, your scent, your Omega- it had thrown him in a frenzied Rut. He had never remembered any of his Ruts hurting like that before.

But Lee Bodecker wasn’t scared. He never was like that, even when he had been younger. Never ever.

“I ain’t scared of your Omega. I can handle your Omega. I’m your Daddy, ain’t I, babydoll?”

“Y-Yeah…” your voice had turned breathy. “Y-Yeah, Daddy.”

An agreeing noise came from Lee.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, Mega?”

“I think…” you chewed on your bottom lip for just a second. “I think… I think you need to come to Coal Creek.”

“What?”

Now he was concerned.

“What for?”

“It’s… it’s about Lenora. Today… earlier, I… I went to the church. I went to the Preacher and I shot him twice. With… with the pistol you gave me before my Ma and I left. He raped her, Lee. She’s pregnant with his pup. And I think… I think if I tell Arvin, that he’s going to kill him. I need your help, Daddy. Please.”

There was a beat of silence from the other line. For a moment, you thought Lee might've hung up on you.

But then, you heard it.

"Don't cha worry babydoll. San and I will come. You just stay there. Behave, ya hear me?"

You swallowed thickly.

"Y-Yeah, Daddy. I'll be on my best behavior."

"That's a good girl. Hang tight, got it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good. Go get some sleep, babydoll. I don't like my baby tired and cranky."

You let out a faint giggle.

"Okay, Daddy. Gonna sleep."

"Mhmmm."

There was another beat of silence.

"I love you."

Maybe it was that you were getting a little sleepy. But you smiled anyway.

"I love you too, Daddy."

And then the line went dead.

Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44, @bxnnywriting

Series taglist: @queenslvy

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

POISON AND PLEASURE

Osamu Miya (Post-Time Skip) x Mob Boss! Female Reader

“Backed into a corner, Osamu makes a deal with the devil -- you.”

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: oh boy. Dub-con (Osamu does consent, but it is coercion); MANIPULATION AND EXTORTION; slight gun play, lasts for a moment; Rough sex; Hate-fucking; Degradation/Humiliation; Spanking, also just for a moment; Oral sex, fingering; Orgasm Denial; Choking; Violence; Dash of corruption and prey/predator; Deep throat; Facial. Fucking in a kitchen/public place. Also, just in case, toxic relationship and money talk (lol). 

Word count: 9,889 (such a nice number)

A/N: Oh, this has been a ride. This is my contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. I’m very excited to participate, since it is my first collab and they are my (home) first server. Big, huge, gigantic thanks to Lauren (my wife) for reading this over and beta-ing for me. <3

Well, Osamu fuckers unite! :insert elmo fire: (i’ve been on discord too much)

Osamu gets up from his seat inside his small office, looking from the small window on his door inside the already closed restaurant lit only by the lights that come in through the windows, the time being well after closing. Shady deals are mostly done late at night, he thinks. Right as he’s leaving the office and closing the door behind him with a key, the movement outside catches his eye and Osamu turns just in time to watch as the black BMW sedan of the year quietly comes to a halt right in front of his store. He frowns, knowing who that means. He'd much rather deal with the soldier responsible for his loan initially than with you.

Two men emerge from the front doors of the car, one immediately heading for the passenger door while the driver checks the street; they exchange a small nod before the man on the side of the sidewalk opens the passenger door and when he does, he positions himself behind it and immediately out of the way. Osamu could be intrigued by the action if he didn't feel so represented by it - he, too, would prefer to always be out of your way.

There’s power in the way you move, ingrained in your body as you descend an expensive white heel onto the concrete beneath you on the sidewalk, the other following suit while you propel yourself out, holding the frame of the car for support. It’s late at night and the street is fairly dark, but your simple presence, clad in an impeccable white suit with a deep neckline showing immaculate skin, is enough to brighten the place. There’s an elegant, expensive-looking and equally unnecessary coat draped over your shoulders and your hair was flawlessly styled.

You draw attention as the color black absorbs light-- from all and everything. Maybe it is because of your soul, he muses.  

Once you were standing outside the car, your driver marched to the door of the onigiri restaurant, holding it open for you while you strode inside, heels clicking on the pavement, the sway of your hips something Osamu may think beautiful to watch if it weren’t you.

“Hello, Miya-san. Hope you have better news for me this week.” You state as cheerfully as you can, calmly entering the establishment in a glory of white. You shed your coat once you passed the door, the driver catching it while the second man seemed to survey the outside area a little more before entering.

"Hi." Osamu extends his hand with the brown envelope. But you go around him and walk to the counter, calmly sitting down on one of the high stools while absentmindedly looking around his small restaurant.

“I missed my lunch today, so I hope you don’t mind me grabbing a bite before I leave.” You don’t look at Osamu when he doesn’t move for his place behind the counter immediately.

“We’re closed.” He says and you turn around just momentarily, piercing eyes on his profile. One of your men is still by the door and the look he gives the twin is also very compelling. Osamu feels his teeth gritting against the pressure he makes to shut his tongue. "Sure."

One of the goons comes closer and takes the brown envelope from his hands, without you even looking back as the burly tattooed man sits in one of the booths and starts counting the money.

“So, how’s business? I’ve heard you had a hard time these last two months.” You try to make small talk while checking the menu over the counter, carefully done nails threading along the restaurant menu. You only press a long nail against what you want and slide it to him, the 18K diamonds on your small and discreet Cartier watch and matching trinity ring on your finger catching more of his attention than your watchful eyes. Your jewelry is discrete, tasteful, and still amounting enough to buy the whole building where the Onirigi’s shop is located. Osamu's throat moves around nothing in reflex.

"Isn’t it obvious?" He grumbles while working against the counter, starting once he cleans his hands on the sink. He’d like to say his eyes keep diverting to your neckline because of your shining jewelry.

"So rude, Miya." you chuckle. “And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Didn’t you pay for your little plumbing problem with my money? Is it only dirty to you once I’m present?”

"I don’t like people like you." Osamu doesn’t beat around the bush. And once he’s done with this payment he’d be completely free of you anyway, he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.

“Like me? You mean kind? All I ever did was help you out in a time of need.”

Osamu’s snort is disrespectful. The big man by the door moves but a simple turn of your hand in the air has him standing back, carefully looking down on Osamu, but unmoving. The other’s still counting the money rather calmly, the booth he’s seated unseeable from the shop window.

“You see, disrespect won’t take you far.” You say offhand, your watchful eyes on Osamu’s every move but with no real worry. You don’t trust him, but you know he’s not stupid.

"I don’t plan on it." He answers you after a beat, finishing wrapping the Salmon onigiri, disposing it carefully on a plate, and depositing it in front of you, accompaniments arranged around. Osamu doesn't use the fact that he doesn't like you as an excuse for a half-ass job; he's not the type, which is refreshing. Is what you like about him.

“Get started on a few others. I trust your recommendations.”

Osamu chooses to work quietly, in silence. You, however, are happily chatting away at his high stool as if this is just another day of bullying patrons. Maybe, for you, it is.

“You work very diligently.” You observe, eyes trailing from his toned arms to his deft fingers diligently working on the rice ball. He’s fast and experienced, rolling the nori around the triangled shaped steamed rice after successfully filling it with whatever he chose. Osamu just grumbles out something, or tsk, even when the way you look at his fingers takes an unexpected appreciative turn. 

“Maybe I should have you working overtime more.” You muse when he finishes the new onigiris and carefully places them in front of you. Osamu eyes you nastily, clearly displeased at your comment, which makes your lips split in a bigger smile despite your teeth closing around the rice ball. Even so, you’re pleasantly surprised by their flavor. 

“See, this is why I like you, Osamu.” The man frowned at your loose use of his first name, the way it rolls off your tongue so nicely. “You always deliver good work.”

“It’s my job.” Osamu retorts, unamused. “I do it right even if it’s for…” He catches his tongue right in time, his eyes catching movement from the man seated down at one of the tables, almost biting his tongue in the process. “--people like you.” 

Osamu watches while the burly man with tattoos moves discreetly despite his size, bends down so his mouth can be on your ear level, and murmurs something to you that he doesn’t quite catch. Your steely eyes are momentarily looking down when they blink and fly back to his face, a deep, blank stare that makes Osamu’s brows furrow. His back becomes straighter, a gripping feeling in his gut that triggers his fight or flight. 

He presses the urge down - tells himself he doesn’t have anything to fear.

He’s looking down at you, but Osamu feels small under your steady glare. Which in reflex, after several years of being stupid in pair, makes him want to act up.

"Seems to me you forgot some money, Miya."

"What?" His shocked tone is harsh and his eyes dart between you to the two men behind you, looking as steady as his walls and just as broad. "I counted it twice, everythin’ I owe ya ‘s there." His accent comes out pretty hard when he’s agitated.

"You only have fifty thousand here."

“I owe ya fifty thousand.” Osamu deadpans, almost sneering. “What ’re ya sayin’?"

“No, Miya. Fifty thousand is what you owed me two weeks ago.”

"You gave me an extension." He argues, brows furrowed.

"Exactly. I never said anything about the interest.”

"What?"

"You forgot the interest." You talk to him as if he’s a child, lips turning upwards at his confusion. Osamu has the gut feeling you’re enjoying every second of this. Every little moment of his deep discomfort. “You were informed about them when you accepted the loan, you know how they work. If you don’t pay on the due date, 10 percent interest each extra week you remain in debt.”

"Are you telling me I'm missin’ over 10K in interest rates?

"Yes." You say, smiling while tilting your head sideways, analytical. "Because you are."

“I'm paying you back,” Osamu grits through his clenched teeth, almost as if he’s willing it to be true, “Everything I owed ya is there. ”

"Not quite. You’re paying me back about--” You smile and press your lips in thinking, eyebrows furrowing while you calculate on your head the exact number.  “-- 82 percent of what you owe me.”

Osamu’s fists close, veins bulging while his heart picks up with the adrenaline rush of a fit of rage. Aggression flows on his body to the point where his entire frame trembles. His teeth are clenched, tightly forced together by his pressed jaw. His brain cannot reason beyond the need to vent that outrage, and with every second he spends looking at your pretty-faced indifference sitting in front of him at the counter, his outrage slowly merges into fury. Osamu stares back at your emotionless eyes, turns, and walks two strides before burying his fist in the nearest plaster wall, the pain grounding him, soothing his nerves. 

Pain is familiar -- what Osamu doesn’t like is to feel so deranged.

"Fuck!" He exclaims loudly but still controlled, turns his broad back to you, breathes deeply a few times, and then settles. You watch in delighted silence as he moves to the freezer, grabs an iced pack of random food, and puts on his busted knuckles, his eyes on the hole he left on the wall; The twin sighs audibly, then walks back while coldly regarding you and your two watchdogs who look over to him carefully, almost startled.

You, however, didn’t even flinch.

"So how much do I still have to give you?"

“I think the better question is: Can you pay?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Osamu grumbles out, his clenched jaw working over grinding teeth.

“That’s not how this works, Miya.” You tell him, your spine regally straight on the high seat as if it is your throne. Your lips move around the next word with malice. “When.”

“I--” Osamu stops to think for a moment, coldly calculating his financial situation. He has no way to withdraw money from the main branch to try and cover the losses of this branch, that would be simply stupid. There is no way for him to borrow money from Atsumu, who doesn’t know the concept of savings; Kita can not help him with such a great amount and he can’t recur to his poor parents. He also doesn’t want to resort to a bank at all, which doesn’t leave him many options. A new extension raises interests and he doesn't think he can do it beyond the amount he would need to add. Osamu's chest slowly fills with dread - he knows what’ll come if he doesn’t pay and he refuses to let his business become a Mafia parlor.

You watch Osamu slowly and quite meticulously calculate his options while engrossed in reasoning his dreadful situation; it’s thrilling, you almost can’t hide the contentment blossoming in your chest at his desperate situation. 

His expression shifts and turns sour, before slowly building back his blank façade but it’s too late, you already know his conditions and capacities - it’s your job to know. And you pride yourself in never making bets, just assuming calculated risks, so Osamu is right where you wanted him to be.

You do suspect the black-haired male is the same, that disinterested stare in his handsome face nothing short of sharp, his aloof behavior making every second of rilling Osamu up to this manifestation of discomfort all the more delightful. His only problem is that the man plays by rules you don’t. And what you want, you take.  

“I’ll need an extension for the rest.” He finally says, so absolutely angered it’s almost a curse. Even the hostility in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine, all the hairs on your arms standing on edge while your insides slowly melt, fed by the images in your brain.

“Really?” You playfully answer, faked surprise not made to convince anyone. Osamu seethes in place, labored breathing making his chest move up and down. “See, now I can’t help you out. I told you disrespect would only take you so far.” 

You get up from your seat, a show of touching your expensive black plump Louboutin on the ground. “I can’t let you out like this, not when you did such a show of being… rude.”

“What do you want.” Osamu almost spits at you once you’re rounding his counter, entering his space, closing on him. But he holds himself in place by pressing his nails hardly against the inside of his palms.

“First, some respect.” You sultrily say at him, much as a viper luring its prey. It rolls off your scarlet lips while you look up at him from your long lashes and perfect face. It makes Osamu want to wreck it.

“I don’t respect you.” He says in undertone since you’re close, sounding much like a hiss. 

“Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to say to someone to whom you owe so much.” You purse your lips, fake pout. “And you seem like a smart man, Miya. Or am I wrong?”

Osamu blinks, brows furrowing while he looks down at you, his mind working.

“Where are you going with this?” He eyes you warily, his eyebrows furrowing, his mind trying to gauge the target of your wicked intentions. “You want something.”

 You smile, pretty red lips stretching to show a beautiful line of white teeth and he’s surprised that the poison isn’t dripping. 

“See, I knew you were smart.”

“I’m not giving you my business.” Osamu hisses, like a cornered animal, but his instance shows he’s more prone to fight than flee. 

“Don’t want it.” You’re quick to tell him, innocence so out of place that it makes even clearer that you’re being honest. “I may need… services, though.” 

Osamu’s spine shoots straight once again, his eyes sharp boring into your face with cold disdain.

“I’m not laundering your money.” 

“Money launder, Miya? That’s a federal felony.” You lean back, supporting yourself on your forearms against the balcony, vigilant eyes zooming on him. “Are you saying I’m a criminal?” 

Osamu stays silent for the first time. There’s a predatory glint in your eyes that he understands as a warning, but that doesn’t stop him from upturning his brow and tilting his head in a small challenge. Osamu is appalled at what your upturning lips do to his guts, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. He must be wrong in the fucking head to feel anything else than disgust in your sight, but even so, there’s no denying the way there’s a devilish pull around you, like the temptation of a capital sin.

“What I mean is… I have a specific service for you, personally. So you could pay me in...” Your tongue snaps against the roof of your mouth with a small noise, lips turning up in vile intention, “Different goods, per se.”

Osamu refuses to accept his train of thought, eyes pressing into slits while he watches you. His tone enunciates every word of his question. 

“What do you mean?” 

Your answering smile is sordid.

“You know what I mean Miya, we’ve just established you’re not stupid.”

“I’m starting ta’ think you are, though.”

Your laugh is loud, cheerful even. It makes him look at you as if you’re insane.

“Maybe.” You chuckle, retreating your arms back and straightening your posture on the tool, your neck tilting to the side. “But when I want something, I want it. So why deny myself that? I find the whole point of self-control to be so… pedestrian.” There’s this contempt in your tone at the word, mixing into trivial once your shoulders shrug your consideration for a whole chunk of what living in a society means. “Why hold myself to it if I’m above?” Osamu chooses to ignore that question.

“And what if I say no?” 

“You’re free to do what you want, I don’t own you.” Yet, you think, smiling. “Then again you still owe me 10k in interests and with your measly weekly 5k profit and the increased interest percentage with the second extension, we know what’ll happen to you…  And I’d hate for that to happen to you.”

The silence is heavy and acidic, burning on him. And you let the seconds pass, relishing in the way he seems to grow aggravated, jaw overworking around nothing to bite, hands in fists by his side. 

Oh, you’re close to defiling the pristine white of your designer clothes, the feeling brewing inside you threatening to spill between your thighs. Osamu looks absolutely delicious while being so emotional. 

You can see the gears turning inside his pretty dark-haired head, his eyes looking around and back at you, threading down your face, to your neck to the plunging neckline of your suit - you elongate your body while he watches, pleased to have his eyes on you, especially when they're burning with unattended violence and aggression. 

Osamu’s always so detached from the events happening around him, so unshakable in that aura of apathetic tranquility that it has caused you to develop an almost macabre interest in making him desperate. And now you are continually enjoying the result, the awakening of the flames that you always knew existed inside the small business owner.

 A few minutes pass while you’re just content to watch, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you appreciate the size of his shoulders, the strength hidden in the strong biceps, the broad, defined torso that you know exists under that simple black outfit simply by gut feeling alone. You are tempted to ask him to turn around so that you can also enjoy his backside.

“Ok.” He says in a breath that seems more like it was ripped out of his chest. Like a dead man last world. You like this analysis. But of course, he can’t have it so easy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you say anything?”

Osamu purses his lips in discomfort, almost bites his tongue in the process of not telling you to go to hell.

 “I said,” he entones again, though his disdain is showing. “Ok”

“Ok, what?” You press. Oh, the way how his veins bulge on his forearms when his nails press on his palms have your hairs standing on end. You blink at him with a smile, all too pleased with yourself.

“Ok, I’ll do it.” Osamu squeezes out, brows furrowed in discovering your intentions. You’re leering with wicked prowess. 

“I don’t think that's how you say it, Miya.” Your brows go up in the tiniest indication of irritation. Your voice is calculated, though unable to hide the elation.

“Ok… Miss. I’ll do anything you want.” The words come out of his mouth sounding nothing like submission and much like he just cursed your whole generation, teeth grinding. Still, it makes you smile. You don’t want to break his spirit -- that’s why you chose him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” You say, pushing yourself out from the counter where you supported yourself. Coat long forgotten on top of it, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, knowing exactly how you look and very pleased at the way his eyes ever so slightly thread down your plunging neckline. “But not so fast. I didn’t tell you I’d accept it-”

“Ya just--” Osamu almost explodes, the arms he holded closed in front of him being thrown in the air as if he’d be ready to grab you. You just turn a hand up and reels at how he actually shuts up right after.

“I just told you, you could pay me in services.” You continue, one step closer to him in your expensive shoes, plump red lips dripping wicked intent. 

“But,” You start, closer to him enough that your breath is touching his heated skin and you can smell the sweat his aggression produced, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting it on his skin. 

Your finger rests on his chest and you thread it up while speaking, looking him in the eyes, so pleased at finding so much life in his usual dead stare, “I don’t know if you’re good enough for the job yet.” 

Osamu stares back at you, hands in fists forcibly stuck next to his body, feeling the way your hot breath trails on his jaw and hating himself for what it brews in his insides. 

You stretch up in your heels, mouth dangerously close to his, which rests ajar to let his breathing out, enough that he can taste your mint breath on his tongue. 

“I think I may need a little…”  Your eyes thread down to his mouth and then back to his eyes while you speak your next words, “--taste, you know?”

Osamu flexes his fingers, swallows dry around his closed throat, stares at your face -- so close the downright devilish smile on your red lips seems to narrow his field-view -- and he blinks. 

The Miya thinks how he wants to wipe that smile off your sinful lips. How he wants to have you trembling, unattended, and disheveled. He thinks about you begging with his name on your tongue, for a release that he’ll keep denying at his disposition. Osamu thinks about leaving you sore and marked, thinks about wrapping his hands around your neck to watch as you struggle, turning purple, life evading you while he fucks you; consider this may be the only way he’d ever had the opportunity to get even close to a payback. 

Osamu wants you to experience mind-numbing pleasure you’d never before, uniquelly brought by him… and suffer through the rest of your fucking disgraceful life without being able to taste it again once he’s done paying his debt. Because Osamu swears on his fucking name and whole life, he’ll never give it to you again.

He can see your future already and in it you’re fucked - both by him and for him, while he’s the one who gets away. The twin wonders if you ever lost anything like this in your life, can feel himself growing hard at being the one to make you cry. 

“Sure.” Osamu smiles, lopsided, the devil himself being safer than him. “I’ll give ya the taste ya deserve.” 

Your eyes press slightly closer in mistrust, the wicked intention pouring from his body so close to yours impossible to miss. Either way, it's your win; that’s exactly what you’ve been bargaining for, despite your game being rigged from the start. 

You bring your face close to his as if you were going to kiss him and you are delighted when his eyes go down, although not completely closed, his pupils focusing on your lips. 

You smile and retreat, turning to your men still positioned exactly where you left them, behind the bench where you were sitting previously. They remain so observant and sharp as ever, despite looking more like gargoyles than men.

“I’ll need a moment.” You tell them in a serious tone, calm. They both look at you for a second and nod, their stances changing very little despite it. You turn back to him but walk inside his establishment as if you own the place, pushing through the doors that lead to the back and inside his small, equipped kitchen. Osamu follows in silence, briefly wondering if he’d be able to snatch a knife and bury it in your chest. 

There’s not much outside cooking paraphernalia, with two big counters and taller than normal table in the center. You stop right in front of it, your hand threading over it for a moment. 

“That’ll do.” You say while you turn around to look at him. You look so strikingly bright in the middle of his rather normal kitchen, clad in both lavish clothes and unblemished skin; he wants so much to be able to say your sight doesn’t thrill him -- but he can’t lie to himself. 

But then you pointedly eye him and then the ground in front of you, “Kneel.”

Osamu considers his previous thought about burying a knife deep in your chest but walks, stiff, to where you indicated. He kneels with even less disposition than when he walked towards you, the descent slow until the ground’s hard tile is registered against his knee. He makes a point of looking into your eyes as he lowers, hatred overflowing in waves that seem to give you a sick satisfaction, your eyes becoming slightly out of focus.

The Miya’s about to ask what you’d want him to do next, like pledge himself or some shit, when your hands move to the hidden zipper on the side of your impeccable white pants. 

It drops to the floor in one go, displaying the graceful planes of your hips, appeasing spanse of flesh, a small triangle of silk hiding your most private parts. Saliva pools in Osamu’s mouth at the sight, his teeth pressing against one another to avoid betrayal. He’s still unsure of what’s his next step until your heel digs on his shoulder painfully, using him as leverage to prop yourself up on the high table. 

His eyes snap to yours while he bite his tongue to not curse you out loud.  There’s a gun on top of his head that is a big warning for Osamu to behave -- not that he’d have the chance to escape with the watchdogs outside his only exit. If he had, you could be dead already. 

Your suit threads up when you move up and slide on the table, the white silk panties peeking in between your open thighs. You move your beretta calmly off his face and thread it slightly, almost fondly, over your naked thigh. 

You make a small show of removing your finger from the trigger and depositing it far on the table, enough to be out of his reach and almost yours too. You look back at him once you’re empty handed and just so open right there on the table for him. 

“Behave, Osamu. You know you wouldn’t make it very far.”

Osamu grits his teeth but nods, your heel still supported on his shoulder but not digging on his skin anymore. You lay slightly back against his tabletop, forearms resting on the surface carefully. Dressed in a white, stylish suit like the last trend, the skin in between so bright it feels like a taunt, the curves of your breasts so ripe he wants to taste, the closed lapels looking like his own pathway to sin. He can feel his blood boiling, aggression throbbing, and he wants to paint you in red.

“Well then,” You start, happily above him, spread like a meal, “Show me if you’re good enough to pay your debt. Consider this your warrant.”

“Don’t worry.” Osamu drawls out with dripping distaste, his hand slowly, almost bored, threading up from your ankle to your knees. “I’ll fuck ya like you want it. Within an inch of your life.”

His hands lock on the back of your knees and he parts them forcefully, while you leave a yelp followed by laughter, your head thrown back with glee. 

You smell of flowers and spice, so expensive he was surprised that you weren’t dripping fucking gold. His palms slide through the back of your thigh and the skin under his fingertips is soft and firm, all shapes of heaven despite being in sole service of the devil. 

Osamu starts slowly, the table leaving you open just at the height of his neck while he’s kneeled on the ground, at the perfect height. His thumb presses on your skin while he holds one of your legs up, brings his lips to your knee. There’s a welcoming stain on your panties, and he scoffs at you despite the way his cock responds on his trousers. 

“I haven’t even started and you’re already wet?” The way you smile at him is both infuriating and bewitching. 

“What? Didn’t you enjoy our little foreplay earlier?” You tease him, plump lips locked under a row of teeth with mirth. His skin feels prickling and Osamu decides he needs more room, roughly pushing on your thighs until he can fit between them with room to spare.

It’s not fair, how good you feel, the delicious smell of your skin, the way your taunt alights him with fire in his veins. 

Osamu knows it’s bait -- and he’s willingly falling for it.

When his lips start to thread on the inner part of your knee and up, the twin does it with the intention to mark; he sucks instead of kissing, licks instead of caressing, and bites once he finds the plush meat of your inner thighs.

It stings and you let the smallest of sounds, but Osamu feels it in his gut, brings his hot tongue to soothe over it, bask in the way you tremble under his fingertips just enough for him to sink his teeth and revel in the pain on your groan. 

His nose treads along the furthest expanse of the joining of your thighs, touches the silk of your expensive panties, senses the way you tense and watches while your pussy trembles, even while still covered by fabric.

He considers holding back his tongue, but Osamu has never been the type to be held back by the threat of punishment. And you’ve shown to clearly enjoy his fiery side.

“Such an eager pussy right here, isn't it?” He threads his nose against the wet patch in the silk, carefully breathes against the covered lips. Osamu lets one of his shoulders bear one leg and brings his thumb to pass over the growing wet patch. “Sticky.” He presses it from the wetness to the place where your clit should be, watches as you respond to his touch with aborted movement. “Such a slut.” It’s supposed to be degrading, but there’s a hint of appreciation in his words that isn’t lost on you. “Is this all it takes for my debt? It’ll be finished in a second then.”

Your mouth opens to retort but closes in time to withhold a moan before it falls through your lips. His thumb’s pressing against your clit in tight circles while the index of his other hand threads over your covered cunt. Turns out Osamu has moves to back up the big talk. 

He’s methodical, clearly good and deft with his fingers, controlled pressure applied in a way that has you writhing on the table despite your intention to make this hard on him. Your desire to make him work for it, apparently, is no match for his. 

Osamu presses the tips of his fingers on your clothed entrance, enough force that it barely breaks inside you but the teasing has you churning on the table for him, legs trying to part beyond limits, body arching where it’s been relegated. Your chest feels hot and heavy despite the little clothing. You’re hoping for the moment where he’ll tease the hard nipples pressing against the flimsy lace of your bralet and the inside of your suit with the same intensity he’s depositing on your cunt.

Osamu, on the other hand, has no rush. You did this, gave this opportunity for him to wreck you, and he plans on enjoying it to the bitter end. He’s fairly surprised at how responsive you are, how quickly you melt for him, how vocal you can be despite doing little more than grunts and sighs. A thought flashes through his mind when he feels a renewed wave of wetness blossom against the fabric where his fingers are pressing, his lips turning in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Have you been so desperate for a good cock you’ve resorted to blackmail?” Your eyes snap open at his voice, a warm wave of something that you refuse to believe in being embarrassment depositing in your cheekbones. Osamu’s fingers prod harder against your entrance, fingers spreading against the wet fabric to your outer lips while his thumb keeps drawing endless circles around your clit. “Tsk, what a dirty move from an even dirtier slut.” 

He slaps your clit once, then twice, his bulking frame preventing you from closing your legs against the sudden pain. Your body trembles on unsteady forearms. You choke on a breath and then release a moan, the sound outrageous to Osamu even as his cock throbs from it. 

“Maybe I’ll give ya what you want.” The Miya teases, his voice sounding even despite the turmoil inside him. You look up at him with such eyes he could fool himself into thinking he wanted this. 

His fingers teether on the edge of your underwear, rough fingertips just daring to cross into the emanating heat. Your hips twitch, the emptiness inside you accentuated by your muscles clenching around nothing, desire pouring out against the prodding fingertips. Osamu snorts, throws you a hard stare that is equal parts fire and contempt. 

“You’re so wet. Are you enjoying this that much?” It drips acidic from his tongue against your neck, after he bends himself over you. From so close, Osamu’s warm breath is the same as a caress, his tongue teasing you with the way it threads over his lips but doesn't extend the courtesy to your skin. “You’re rather easy to rile up, hah? Or is it that you enjoyed playin’ with me before?” His teeth flash white above your head and you swallow around the desire of having them plunging on your skin. “How was it ya said? Foreplay, hah?”

You feel weirdly wound up inside your own skin, as if there’s not enough space and still a growing void inside you waiting for him to fill. It’s insane, it’s delicious, and a loud moan breaches your throat when Osamu plunges two fingers inside you without warning. 

Your body arches in such a curve your breasts press against his chest, the relieving brush too shallow to register in your brain when you’re hyper fixated on the sensation brewing inside you. 

It doesn’t even sting, instead you feel like your hunger escalates, fed by such little push that your want becomes need and for the first time in forever you actually consider asking for something. 

Your mouth opens, and Osamu snickers. “What?” He presses his thumb over your clit fast, relinquishes in the way you groan, feels the way your insides beg him to keep going. 

Still not enough though. He wants it ruined for you. 

“Maybe I’ll just make you cum on my fingers right here.” He spreads, scissor and twists them inside you, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him at his every move. Osamu’s skin feels on fire, body overheating, and the way your lips turn up to reveal a line of white teeth in glee has his gut twisting. 

“You have a pretty loose tongue for such a quiet guy.” You look at him with semi-closed eyes, the victorious smile of the cat who got the mouse. “Maybe you like me more than you thoug--ahhhhh!”

Osamu shoves and prods around your insides for that special place even demons like you have and his assault is nothing short of merciless. Your eyes snap open at the force of his ramming, eyebrows furrowing at the way your pleasure seems to have forgone climb to skyrocket instead. Osamu watches in begrudging enchantment while your lips fall open to suck air into your breathless lungs and your eyes grow unfocussed, shoulders falling against the table so your hands can come to hold his arms but for what he doubts even you know. 

He’s not stopping. Until he does. 

You let out a noise like a wounded animal, tethering on the edge of mind numbing pleasure he won’t give you and when your body trembles from exertion of a denied orgasm instead of bliss, Osamu’s chest swells in pride.

“Whydidyoustop?” You lament in one breath, eyes are blinking back into focus, sweat and - oh he hopes those are tears - droplets dripping from the corner of your eyes while you turn to press your face on the cold metal surface of the table. “I was so close!” This time you rage, nails pressing against his skin enough to hurt.

“Wadidya mean?” Osamu tilts his head sideways, patronizing. “You didn’t ask for it. I’m just doing what you told me: being respectful.”

You laugh, still breathless, and turn to him in disbelief. “Fucker.”

“Not yet,” He corrects you, nuzzling his hips on your thighs. “Maybe if you ask nicely enough.”

Osamu retreats while you regulate your breath, letting your useless legs fall limp while both of his hands come to help your panties down, marveling at the way they’re peeled off your wet pussy lips. His cock aches and demands, but he’s used to reining in his dick. And he’s just started, anyway.

The Miya pushes you forward on the table, opening your legs wide like a treat. Your pussy is glistening, rhythmically calling for something to fill it while you leak. He plunges a finger back inside to watch you tremble, stimulation enough to make your eyes fall closed, long black lashes against beautiful sweaty skin. 

“Look at this.” Osamu plunges a second finger inside, opening them wide enough to sting. “What a desperate whore.” 

Your mind is swirling in urge, but you refuse to spill the words on your tongue. It would give you what you want, but at what cost? Osamu looks positively ferocious above you, dark eyes focused on your every move; it sends shivers through your spine, your body trembling and blossoming for him once again. You’re in your personal heaven, in company of the devil himself.

Osamu kneels again in front of your open legs, hook one on his shoulder while he holds the other thigh forcefully up with a grip so hard your muscle aches under his fingers. But you don’t care, in fact  you sigh “more” for him right as his breath teases your folds.

“No.” He tells you, two fingers pumping at leisure. His tongue slurps at your inner thigh, teeth closing in a bite with nothing to sooth. 

“Fuck.” You breathe out in a groan and his smirk is pronounced against your skin. 

Osamu, as you’re learning, is a tease.

His moves are soft, lacking in everything but aim; his tongue moves along the sensitive parts of your body you’ve never really cared for, like the plush flesh of your thighs, underside of your ass, the juncture of your groin. He has yet to taste you but you feel wounded, body constricted under weak ministrations, feather-like teases. It sinks with a piercing revelation that you could cum like this -- in an unfulfilled manner with not-good-enough touches that somehow have made your body feel raw like an exposed nerve in which the minimum touch would be enough to warrant waves of pleasure.

When his tongue comes to thread along your slit slowly, nose caressing along his way, your body clenches and threatens to spasm around unmoving fingers. You’re so close, so close, your body is ready to burst, fraying at the seams of a control you’re not using, your hands flying to try and find your clit at the same time Osamu’s eyes flash and he holds it, presses it forcefully against your belly while his lips slurp at your folds, circle your clit, but it’s so soft, it’s fucking unfair.

“Goddammit, Osamu!” You scream, enraged at the way your second orgasm flies away from you as his fingers leave your quivering hole, his mouth doing nothing more than lap at your overflowing juices with no real worry, no urgency.

“Oh, look at that.” The Miya smirks, drawing back up to look at your disheveled state; flustered, sweating, dripping and unattended. “You wanted a taste.” His hand comes back to your cunt, fingers thread along puffy lips. “I’m giving it to you.”

“You bastard.” His fingers leave your heat just to plunge inside again, a loud gushing sound following it. “Shit.” You sigh while falling back, and Osamu feels his cock throb once more at how breathless you sound. 

Your mind works around the feeling of being spread so far you feel as if you’re paper thin. Your mind goes rushing in its last attempt at working. Osamu looks self-satisfied, almost content, so you know where to hit. You want it, so you find a way to have it. 

“Oh, poor Miya--” You coo at him with a hoarse voice in glazed eyes, but the condescending tone is clear as day. “Are you trying to hurt me?” You plant a hand on his black hair, pulling at it enough to hurt.  “‘Cause I like pain.”

Fire explodes in his eyes and you tighten around his fingers in response, but other than his frown, Osamu remains calm. 

He slams three fingers inside before you can mouth any new words, smirks down at you with mischief when you tremble and bite your lips to hold the noises in, eyes falling back closed to hide the way they turn inside your skull. His other hand is holding your thigh forcefully open once again and his palm presses with hurtful intention, fingertips buried in your flesh so hard his digitals may mark you for days.

“Let you cum on my fingers and nothing else, is that going to be enough for you?” Osamu snarls against your ear, hot breath tickling your jaw. His hips hold you open to his assault at your pussy and his hand abandons your thigh to glide over your body and close around your throat. 

Osamu squeezes hard.

“Then again I could ruin your orgasm for the third time.” He bends over you, his lips right in front of your sight; eyes looking down at you with such fire you almost wonder if they’re the cause for the burn in your lungs. “Leave you writhing on the table, empty, until you learn to have a little respect.” 

This. 

Your lips spread in a smile almost maniacal, goosebumps rising on your skin as if you’re electrified. This is what you’ve wanted all along -- passion, fearless assault of words, electrifying pleasure; and also, the detachment, the murderous intent, all merging together in one perfect Osamu Miya. Shit, you think to yourself, at this hate you may actually come from his teasing alone.

“You talk too much for someone who didn't make me cum yet.” You pour gasoline into his fire. 

Osamu pulls you up by the lapels of your suit, button flying open at the hastiness, your breasts protected by such a flimsy piece of lace you’re surprised it doesn’t turn to ash at his stare. Your hard nipples mark the white bralet, the air feeling cold at how hot they are. 

A hand covered in your juices closes on your cheeks, forcefully opening your lips at the threat of pain, his fingers with lingering heat from your insides.

“Such a big mouth, should I shut you up?” Osamu asks you, eyes boring on yours. The plea is on the point of your tongue as if he’d shoved his hand inside you to yank it himself, and it tips out when his dark eyes steal one single snippet of your smeared red lips open by his hands.

“Fuck me.” 

He nods negatively, presses hard enough that your teeth could cut your inner cheeks. He relents and your tongue grazes your lips, moistening them for his eyes.  

Osamu smiles, a tilt of his lips up but so earnestly you’re almost hopeful, then: “No.” 

Even if as he says it, it’s a lie. He knows he’ll fuck you, but right now he’s enjoying the build-up, toying with you as if you’re his plaything and not the opposite. You growl and curse, head falling back when he palms at your covered breasts, push the lace up, hears the way it strains and threatens to rip. 

It’s oddly relatable -- Osamu also feels taut, stretched around a fleeting control that he feels will slip with one dip inside you. His past sexual experiences involved partners who he cherished and few one-night stands which, for the small time his dick was inside them, he was mindful and cared for their pleasure. 

Right now, while he pinches and palm at your body, he has not a single worry about your pleasure and all the concern about his. This is for him. He bends his head over your bosom, sucks a nipple inside the hot cave of his mouth and bites. As his cock twitches and aches inside his trousers, he relishes in the pained noises you leave, even when they’re marked by breathless arousal.

“You sure are fucked up. Look how much you’re enjoying this.” His fingers force the howl of your cheeks, feeling your teeth nicking the insides of your mouth even through layers of flesh. There’s an infuriating elation in your expression, and Osamu retaliates by sucking harshly on your skin, teeth finding soft places to close on.

You moan loudly and his hand slides back onto your throat in the motion. Your hand shots up from the table to find his hard dick and your laugh makes his blood boil. “Clearly I’m not the only one.”

His heartbeat spikes at the words, even if Osamu knows it. The twin pulls the suit jacket half-down your arms and slams your body on the slight cold surface of the metal table, noise sounding thunderous but still no one comes after you. 

Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the aggression, blood flying so fast through your heart you feel lightheaded. You’re about to spit some more fire into Osamu when two of his fingers gag you, other hand descending on your ass with such force and so unexpectedly your legs give out, dangling from the table as if you’re a ragdoll.

Something remarkably close to a whine turning sob slides through your throat and dies at Osamu’s fingers, just as something big and hot surges over your ass cheeks. Something coils on your chest, the emotion makes your eyes water and for a moment you blink it away, thanking the new position doesn’t let Osamu catch that. 

Too soon. Osamu pulls your head back as his hand peels the globes of your ass apart and before you can breathe, the little air inside you is being knocked out with one thrust of Osamu’s hip.

He forces his dick inside you, tearing you open as your walls make way for his aggression, wetness dripping while Osamu fills you to the hilt, because yes, that's what you want. You want his hate, his passion, you want Osamu to tear you apart while you enjoy every second of it.

“‘Samu!” His name is on your lips as your eyes roll back, whole body tensing until you’re falling, just like that. 

Then he retreats. “Fuck! Fuck no!” This time it’s a wail, a sob as your third orgasm turns to ashes, your insides trembling with nothing to hold, empty and meager pleasure. 

“Wha--Cummin’ already? Nope.” The twin laughs above you, hands tilting your head painfully back. “So embarrassing.” Osamu mocks you and you swear you can feel a renewed wave of cream slide down your insides to greet the head of his cock, nudging along your swollen lips. Your tongue feels so heavy on your mouth, parched and breathless all at once, no way out but silence. 

“You are disgusting, you know that? Such a greedy fucking pussy doesn’t deserve to be this tight.” 

Your laugh turns into a deep moan when Osamu hits deep inside you. “God yes.” You twist one hand out of the suit’s sleeve just to pull him by the hem of his blouse, your nails digging against the skin of his neck, blooming red yelts. “Talk shit to me Osamu. I know you have better lines.”

“Fuck you.” The twin spits, his hips pistoning harder against yours until he just stops the motion, leaves you open and gapping for him to fill you again. “Of course a pig like ya has the hots for humiliation. Look at that, the slut’s pussy squeezing around my dick because she thinks I'm doing this for her pleasure.” His hand comes down on the other side of your ass, where he hasn't hit yet. It stings, but the way his palm massages and grabs at it before almost soothes the burn. “Disgusting sluts don’t get to say anything, not even begging will get you what you want. I decide what you get."

You look back from your shoulder to see his cock is standing proud and angry, swollen head shining red and dripping translucent white, as if he hadn't been wet from your juices before. Osamu’s big, especially thick and he presses inside you again without giving you time to adjust, unforgiving pace right from the start.

You curse at the way one of your hands keeps locked behind you by your suit, your nails digging on your own skin without anything else to find purchase on; the other tries to grab onto Osamu to no avail, falling on the table to help support yourself at the strength of his pounding.  Your mouth is open, divided between sucking breaths and puffs of air. Osamu’s hand has since found purchase in your neck, the way he forces it back painful, the pressure on your throat growing and ceasing as he wishes. 

Still, you can’t think. Your mind is lost in a sea of searing pleasure, your nipples pressed against the metal surface as Osamu finally fucks you as you’ve been dreaming. No, maybe even better. The past men you’ve fucked had all been afraid of hurting you, careful with retaliation. As Osamu fists your hair and forcefully presses you against the table; you think you may be having a religious experience. Your eyes water from the force of his manhandling, tears spilling while you left unbelievable noises fall from your lips. You want to scream and laugh, a hot sensation spreading from your fingertips to your core. 

The wave of the orgasm is forming quickly, your toes curling against the insides of your Louboutins enough to hurt, the incessant pounding of Osamu’s hips against your ass sounding downright pornographic. As the peak approaches, doubt gnaws at your chest for the first time in forever. 

The simple thought of Osamu robbing you of your orgasm this time is enough to make your whole body tremble and recoil, your mind too slow to catch on to his intentions. You consider biting your tongue to hold the plea in, but as you bolt into mind-blowing pleasure you’ve never even imagined before, the alternative feels like dying.

You’re tethering the edge and you feel Osamu pressing harder against you, and you break. “Please!” You cry out, “Pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop.” His movements slow down and halt, and the hand on your ass slides around you, a single finger taps repeatedly on your swollen clit. 

“Say it.” He all but howls at your ear, bites on it for good measure.

“Please, ‘samu, let me fucking cum!” You beg but you’re already falling over, whole body shuddering just from the way he nudges his hips against your ass and taps on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Panic surges in between your pleasure that he’ll ruin this one when he retreats from your quivering insides, but Osamu rams back inside you with such power that your head rattles, hips hurting from the impetus of his fucking. 

Sound rings in your ear while you drown in the thunderous waves of your pleasure for what feels like forever. It flows and flows and flows to a point you can’t tell if you’re seeing black or just closed your eyes. 

Osamu watches, enthralled, how you go completely boneless under him. Your insides have stopped squeezing him tight but his hard, aching cock still throbs inside your heat. It’s honestly unbelievable how tight you feel around him, how fantastic he feels buried balls deep inside your walls. He had to stop trying to fuck you through your orgasm in worry he’d may cum. Poison and pleasure curl in his chest at the thought. Osamu feels like spanking you, choking you, to punish you for this undeserving heaven you have between your thighs.  

But he’s not done yet.

Osamu retreats, the slide of his cock leaving your delicious walls -- cold air from outside so less welcoming -- and you sag on the table. He pulls you up on unsteady legs and smirks, proud. Your bare feet touch the ground and Osamu spins you around, swallowing on a tight throat after one look at your disheveled blissful state, but then he retreats and let’s you collapse to the ground.

The image of your legs sliding open on the cold tiled floor, unsteady hands finding purchase to hold your torso up while your head looks up at him in outrage is one he sears in his mind, a wicked satisfaction sliding over his spine at the sight alone. The wreck of you at his feet, by his hands, nothing short of perfect. 

His cock throbs and pulses in front of your eyes, dragging your attention and Osamu steps closer, poses one hand on the top of your head, ruins the rest of your styled hair by dragging fingertips in it. 

 You’re still lightheaded, shockwaves making you twitch on the cold floor and Osamu is elated at how wrecked you look, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, body holded up by unsteady arms. Your lips are open, between breathless pulls of air and heavy exhales, but Osamu doesn't care, hands forcefully tugging your hair back and angling your mouth at his swelled cockhead. He counts as a win that you don’t bite him, your tongue threading flat on the underside of his length as he buries himself on your throat. 

There’s resistance, so the Miya retreats, forcing it back a few other times until it finally slides a few inches more inside. While he maintains the force over your hair, his other hand engulfs your chin, thumb breaching your lips to hold your mouth open despite the fact you don’t make any move to close it. 

It feels his chest with acidic bitterness that you welcome his aggression, glazed, tearful eyes looking up at him as if the fact he’s using you as little more than a cocksleeve is the brightest part of your day. Still, Osamu’s skin feels close to tearing under the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his insides. His hairs are standing on end, heart beating so fast his lungs burn, every muscle on his body tensed at his mindless pursuit of his high. He buries his cock deep inside the tight space of your throat, your gurgles and groaning enhancing his sensation. It looks painful to you to hold him inside, tears ending your makeup, face turning red at the lack of air. He closes both hands behind your head, making you nuzzle his pelvis even as your nails close on his thighs threatening to break skin.

He retreats to let you breathe just as your eyes go unfocused, feels something squeezing inside as you cough and wheezes and his throat squeezes a large gulp of air when you look up at him, tongue hanging out with a wide-open mouth just offered for him.

Osamu feels like hurting you at how good you are, infuriatingly obedient and willing to be at the end of his aggression. So he buries himself back inside at one go, both hands holding your head for him. There’s too much chaos inside of him, so he decides to pour some out through words.

“You like being used like this, huh? Like little more than a fucking cocksleeve for me.”

“What is it? Does being in power make you this needy? Does being wrecked make you feel this good?” Your groan makes your throat tighter around him, your eyes rolling back from his fucking and degradation.

It’s unfair, infuriatingly so, that this might be the most unbelievable great sex he ever had. 

Osamu can’t hold back much longer, everything feeling just too good, his skin burning at the stretch of the tourbillion of emotions inside his chest, the captivating sight of tears dropping from your jaw and coating your long lashes as your face darkens by the lack of air, swollen lips stretched beyond capacity around his cock while you willingly let him go harder, faster, into your tight throat. There’s a warm sensation flowing from his limbs to his spine, melting his bones and weighing on his balls until it spreads over Osamu’s whole being.

He pulls back from your throat in time but presses his hands on your jaw and hair to keep you up and open as he coats your wrecked face with hot spurts of cum -- the final touch to the perfection of your wrecked image at his feet.

It lands haphazardly over your lips and even your eyelashes, tear-stained mess of a face marked by his essence. Osamu tells himself he could never feel anything towards you, but for a second there’s a hint of territorial pride at how you look -- and how it is all his doing. The twin is still swimming in searing pleasure as you lick over your lips, hands almost fondly landing over his as if you're assuring him that he can let go.

He does, trying to step back and slowly descending onto the ground when his knees give out. His eyes are glued to how his cum is dripping from your chin onto your chest, how you bring your fingers to sweep over it and end it by cleaning the digits with your tongue. If Osamu’s cock wasn’t so spent, he’s sure it’d swell right back up at the sight alone.

“Can’t say what’s better,” your hoarse voice is barely above a murmur, “the taste or the feeling.”

As you’re standing on unsteady legs and already fixing yourself while he sits on the floor questioning his life choices, Osamu feels as if he’d made a deal with the devil, and you’ll be coming back to collect his soul.

“Seems like the start of a nice partnership, doesn’t it?” 

-- 

[ibis-gt]

chapter one of mercenary au! there may be more if i can dig uo the proper motivation... anyway here u go. requisite meetcute, 3k words, content warning for mentions of past family member death.

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

Light shone through the bedroom window of one Luther Algers. The beam moved steadily, achingly slow, as the sun rose in the sky, until it finally reached the perfect angle to shine on his face and, when the sensation made him blink awake, directly in his eyes.

He groaned and rolled over, rubbing at his face with the heel of one hand. He would’ve tried to fall back asleep, but his thoughts caught up to him too quickly.

Today. He knew what today was. Today, he set off for Pentel. Today he gave up his freedom for the good of his kingdom.

Okay, so maybe that was a little dramatic. It sounded like he was going off to war or something. In truth, he was going to get married. It would be a lovely ceremony, lots of people in attendance, a splendid banquet, good feelings all around.

It just would’ve been nice if someone had asked him if he wanted to be married. Or told him who he was marrying.

But that wasn’t how this worked. It was an arranged marriage, one meant to strengthen the peace treaty between Pentel and Contigo. Traditionally the marriage should have been between princes or princesses of both kingdoms, but since Contigo’s king was childless, Luther had been chosen to seal the deal. Luther’s father was a high-ranking noble with a fair amount of money and influence, and he owed the king a favor. He seemed an obvious choice.

Well, no point in putting it off any longer. It would be about two weeks’ journey to the city of Pentel and once he arrived there were still details about the wedding to hammer out and his fiancee to meet. He rolled out of bed and dressed in the outfit that had been laid out for him last night. All lace and ruffles, with a runed belt, the symbols for first encounters and strong bonds etched across it. His job from here on out was to look pretty and smile on command. Like some kind of trained dog.

Before he had time to really properly wallow in his discontent, his father’s voice rang out from the foyer.

“Luther! It’s time! Don’t be late!”

“Coming!” Luther called, skipping out of his room and descending the stairs as quickly as he could. He caught sight of his father just as he exited the front door to their palatial estate. Luther took a moment to catch his breath and make sure his clothes and hair were in order before he followed, stepping out into the daylight. Outside, a line of splendid carriages sat, with people milling about between them. A trip like this was expensive, even beyond his father’s means, but since it was a matter of national importance the king was footing the bill. Servants flitted to and fro with last minute additions to the carriage train’s luggage, attended the important guests who would be traveling with Luther, and were generally busy as bees. Everyone was decked out in their finest finery, which seemed odd to Luther. Shouldn’t they save it for the last day of travel, when they’d actually arrive? But he supposed that they’d be stopping along the way for food and rest, and they’d need to look their best.

“You could’ve had breakfast if you’d been up earlier,” his father grumbled in lieu of a ‘good morning’, “but as it is either you can wait until lunch or see if there’s anything they can dig out of the provisions for the road. Now, your carriage is the one in the middle of the group. You’ll be in with two diplomats and a manners coach. They’ll teach you how to act and speak to Pentel’s royalty, topics to avoid, so on and so forth. There’s a historian in the carriage behind you, try to meet with them at meals and - are you listening to me?”

Luther was not listening. He was staring wide-eyed at a figure standing near his carriage. The man was dressed in armor, with strong boiled leather covering his chest and stomach. Metal pauldrons, gauntlets, and shin guards, slightly tarnished from time and use, glinted dully in the light. An oversized hammer hung from his belt. A few strands of black hair had come free from his long ponytail, and a scraggly beard clung to his chin. Probably the most interesting thing about the man, though, was that he looked to be about twenty feet tall. He could’ve picked up Luther’s carriage under one arm and walked off with it. He was watching the pair of them intently, ignoring the people bustling around between the carriages with packages and bundles for the road. Luther tried to drag his attention back towards his father. He could’ve sworn he saw someone actually walk between the man’s legs out of the corner of his eye.

It was rude to point, and probably unnecessary, so Luther said as delicately as possible, “Who’s that, uh… rather tall man?”

“Ah. Your bodyguard.” Luther’s father turned and waved at the giant.

“My - ?” Luther started to say, but lapsed into awed silence as his new bodyguard walked over to them. The ground practically shook under the weight of the man’s footsteps. He blocked out the sun as he stood before the two of them, and Luther suppressed a shiver that was half from the chill of the shade and half from the sheer size of the man. He was even more intimidating up close than he’d been at a distance. Luther felt practically pinned in place by the intensity of his gaze. Luther’s father continued speaking as though there weren’t a colossus standing mere feet away.

“As you know, your safety is my top priority,” he said, turning back to face Luther. “I’ve hired this mercenary to protect you on the journey.”

“I… see,” Luther said, glancing nervously up at the giant. “And… what is your name?” He raised his voice a little just in case the man had trouble hearing him.

“You can call me Cam, sir,” the giant replied. A hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth before his face resumed the professional mask. His voice was gravelly and incredibly deep. Luther felt it vibrate in his chest.

Luther’s father glared at his son. Luther knew he didn’t really approve of fraternizing with those of a lower station, but it would have been so rude to just continue talking as though Cam weren’t there. Besides, that was such a stupid prejudice. But he didn’t dare disobey his father any further, so he did his best to listen as his father ran down a litany of instructions to ensure the journey was as productive and successful as possible. Largely it boiled down to Luther learning a lot of very boring things very quickly so he could present himself as the best Contigo had to offer.

Finally, his father put his hands on Luther’s shoulders and gave him the closest thing to a smile he could manage.

“You’re doing a good thing, son,” he said. “Good for both our kingdoms. You’ll be perfect. And you’ll be very safe.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Luther. Since Luther’s mother had died in childbirth, his father had been very protective. Overly so. To the extent that it bordered on paranoia. It didn’t help that an assassination attempt had been made on his father’s life after his involvement with an unpopular ruling about taxes that shifted the burden to the mercantile sector. His father had been convinced from that day on that home was the only safe place for him and his son. Luther hadn’t been allowed out unless accompanied by at least three handpicked guards, all of whom were serious buzzkills and never let him do anything fun.

That was probably why his father had gone so overboard with his protection on this trip, Luther supposed. Anyone wanting to cause trouble would hopefully be scared off by just the sight of the giant bodyguard walking alongside the carriage train.

He snuck a glance at the giant again. Cam was still standing right next to them, keeping them in his shadow, but was now looking out at the horizon as though scanning for threats. He was probably just as bored as Luther was, having to listen to his father prattle on. The thought was oddly hilarious, and Luther bit the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling as he met his father’s eyes.

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye, then,” Luther said. “I’ll be sure to write to you often.”

“Yes. Goodbye, Luther.” His father said the words as though he wasn’t entirely sure what they meant. He brought his son into an awkward, hesitant embrace, and quickly let go again. He’d never been good at showing affection, not through words or actions. Truth be told, Luther would’ve been jumping for joy at the chance to get away from home and his controlling father, if it weren’t for the fact that he was just going to end up in a no doubt equally controlling situation. “You go on ahead. I’ve got a few things to clear up with your bodyguard here.” Luther saw the small grimace that Cam attempted to hide and smiled to himself. He seemed like he’d be good company, at least.

As he set off towards the carriage that would be both his salvation and his prison for the next two weeks, he caught only a few words of the fairly one-sided conversation his father had with the giant. It sounded mostly like strict instructions not to talk to Luther except in times of extreme emergency, and a few other nitpicky details he didn’t quite hear. There was a rumbling, “Yes, sir,” from Cam, and then the giant’s thundering footsteps, drawing nearer. Luther’s heart beat faster as Cam approached. His stomach started to knot in anxiety. He knew the giant had been hired for his protection, but having such a large being walking so close behind him hit his fight or flight reflexes, and he’d never been much of a fighter. Luther forced himself not to look over his shoulder. He climbed into the carriage and settled himself on the cushioned seat, then finally shot a sideways glance out of the window. Cam had resumed his post in front of the carriage and all he could see from inside was a section of the giant’s leg.

Luther’s heart sank as he stared glumly at the ceiling of the carriage. The most interesting person on this journey, no doubt, and he was under orders not to say a word to him. He hoped he could break down the giant’s walls eventually. No doubt he had countless exciting tales of action and danger that would be loads more entertaining than listening to dry old historians and prim diplomats lecture him about how to hold a fork.

~~~

They had been on the road for only a few hours, but it had dragged like an eternity as the diplomats prattled away. Luther could barely hold any of it in his head. His eyelids drooped, he swallowed yawn after yawn, and he had to consciously stop bouncing his leg every five minutes. They’d finally decided that was enough for now, clearly dissatisfied with how poorly he was paying attention. Luther stared out the carriage window. He would’ve had an excellent view of the rolling green hills in the distance if it weren’t for Cam.

The giant was trudging along beside the carriage, easily matching the pace of the horses with a measured stride, and mostly blocking Luther’s line of sight to anything else. Luther realized Cam was going to have to walk the whole way, basically alone, since everyone in the carriage train seemed afraid of him and avoided him whenever possible. That was almost worse than having your ear talked off by stuffy old men telling you how to act. Luther knew Cam was under orders not to talk to him, but how was Luther’s father going to find out, anyway? He reached up and swung the window open, leaning his head out to call up to the giant.

The motion of the window opening caught Cam’s eye, and he glanced down just in time to see Luther’s curly-haired head poke out. Whatever the kid was saying was lost in the rumble of the cart wheels and the thunder of the horses’ hooves. It must’ve been important, though. The kid’s father had been very clear that he was engaging in extremely important business and should not be bothered or distracted by Cam. He could practically still hear the man’s thin, unpleasant voice. “Only in the utmost emergency should any communication pass between the two of you.” Well, this looked like an emergency, if he was interrupting his business, and how was the guy going to find out, anyway?

“Can’t quite hear you, sir,” Cam said. “Maybe we could talk when the carriage pulls to a stop at the next town?”

Oh, god no, I can’t wait that long, Luther thought. In fifteen minutes these old fogeys were going to try to start lesson number two. He leaned a little further out and on an impulse yelled, “Pick me up!”

Cam caught that one loud and clear, although for a moment he thought he must have misheard. But there wasn’t much else that could have been. He shrugged and said, “Open the door, then.”

Luther couldn’t believe that worked. He’d half expected the giant to laugh or shake his head. The diplomats stared at him open-mouthed.

“S-sir, I don’t think you should - ” One of them began nervously, but that only strengthened his resolve. He unlatched the door and swung it open with a confidence that completely crumbled as Cam’s huge hand reached in and grabbed him around the middle. It was a delicate maneuver since the carriage was still rolling, but Cam managed it deftly, lifting Luther up and setting him on one shoulder, then laying a hand across his lap to keep him in place. He'd had to crouch to reach into the carriage and Luther felt his stomach drop as Cam straightened up. The ground fell away at an alarming speed, and then he was swaying gently back and forth with Cam's stride, hair blowing in the breeze.

"So, what were you going to say?" Cam asked. 

"Uh, um, I, uh.... Hi?" Luther squeaked.

Cam's eyebrows knit in confusion. 'Hi?' Did the guy just want to say 'hi'? Really?

"Hello," he replied.

Luther was silent, fidgeting for a moment. He'd lost his nerve completely. He was up so high and so intimately close to Cam's face. He couldn't even find his voice enough to ask to be set back down.

Oh my god, Cam thought, that was really it. Well, that was embarrassing. Didn't really need to go to all that trouble. But the guy seemed content to sit there for now. He decided to try some small talk.

"Enjoying the journey so far? It must be pretty stuffy in that little carriage. Good to get out and get yourself some fresh air."

"O-oh, um, yes. Quite stuffy. The air is, uh. Nice." Luther could smell Cam very distinctly. Sweat, salt, steel, and leather. An earthy combination, but not entirely unpleasant. It was so different from what he was used to, and honestly a welcome change. It was a lovely day, a little on the chilly side, but Cam's hand on his lap kept him quite warm. Even the cold steel pauldron below him was heating up pretty quickly. "I’ve, uh, never met a giant before."

Oh, there it is. He'll have all kinds of invasive questions, no doubt. Cam suppressed a little sigh. "Honored to be your first, then." Technically not exactly true. Cam was only half-giant. But to sheltered nobles who didn’t know better it didn’t matter.

But there was no follow-up. Possibly Luther caught the tired edge to Cam's voice and wisely decided to drop that line of discussion. The silence that followed wasn't as awkward as Cam thought it would be. The little noble smelled faintly floral and citrus-y. The scent was light, not at all cloying like some other rich folk's perfume. Cam found that he kind of liked having him on his shoulder, actually. It made him feel like a protector, as opposed to before when he felt like he was just tagging along uninvited.

Luther was glad that Cam had his eyes fixed ahead on the road, because he was blushing so hard his face must have been lobster red. The giant was unexpectedly gentle. He'd half expected to be accidentally crushed in Cam's grip at first, but Cam had much more control than that. The hand across his lap was a firm, comforting pressure, and he was grateful for it. His own hands had been held tight to his chest, but as he relaxed he lowered them slightly. He hesitated, then rested them on the side of Cam's hand, anxiously glancing at Cam's face as he did so. No reaction. His hunched shoulders slumped, and he let out the breath he’d been holding.

Now that Luther felt more comfortable, he could enjoy the sensation of being carried. It was quite the way to travel. He looked out across the fields and watched a pair of birds in flight. The advantage of Cam’s height allowed him to see so much farther than usual.

Cam snuck a sideways glance at Luther. He had his head turned slightly away staring out at the horizon and seemed much more relaxed with a slight smile on his face. Cam suppressed a smile of his own. The little noble was pretty cute, he had to admit. His carefully-arranged brown curls had gotten mussed and out of place when Cam picked him up, and they now fell much more naturally around his face, framing it nicely. He could just about make out constellations of freckles across his delicate face, and warm, curious brown eyes that tracked an arc across the sky. An expression of wonder and amusement perched lightly on Luther's face.

Cam realized he'd been staring at Luther too long just as Luther looked back in his direction. Cam yanked his eyes away and focused on the road again, desperately keeping up the blankest poker face he could manage. He realized he was nearly about to walk right over the carriages and course-corrected as subtly as he could, cursing himself for getting distracted. This was just another pretty noble he had to protect and he couldn't afford to mess this job up. The payout would be huge, along with bi-weekly payments as long as he hung around after the wedding. Nearly a real steady job. He heard Luther stifle a giggle on his shoulder and his brow furrowed, his neutral expression drawing down into a frown. He hadn't been nearly as subtle as he'd hoped, then.

Blessedly for Cam, Luther's carriage door swung tentatively open again, and one of the diplomats poked his head out.

"It's, ah, time for the next lesson," he called over the clatter of the horses' hooves. "If we could have the young gentleman back, please…?"

Cam nodded his agreement and shifted his grip on Luther, leaning down again to place him back in the carriage. "Watch yer head," he muttered, and Luther ducked inside, giving Cam a wistful glance over his shoulder.

There. With any luck, those would be the last words they ever spoke to each other.

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Battle

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from last chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse, you and the others fly to Cairo to confront Apocalypse and his soldiers in an attempt to rescue Xavier.

Warnings: Apocalypse being a leg breaking, hero strangling jerk. Characters fighting for their lives, but bookended with fluff from Peter x Reader pairing.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp, @wintwrsoldiwr, @tommy-braccoli, @amourtentiaa

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

———————————

You’d at least gotten to clean up somewhat. Earlier as Hank and the new woman you’d just met, Moira, had worked on readying the jet, you’d found some bit of helpful supplies. Clean rags to wipe off the blood, and bandages that’d you’d hurriedly applied to your shallow claw wounds.

All the remnants of your restraints were gone, and your old, torn clothes you’d just tossed in favor of the thin jumpsuit and lightly armored black flight suit over the top of it. You all wore these suits, commandeered with this experimental jet now rumbling beneath you as you shot off to Cairo together.

There was silence for a good while, after some initial nervous chatter and joking from the others. It would have been too easy to fill this quiet with any of the myriad of questions still rushing through your brain, but you really had just listened and little more when they’d filled you in earlier with the gist of what they’d learned.

All that really mattered was that the Professor was being held captive by a seemingly omnipotent mutant. One that had now declared war on all and recruited his own powerful soldiers. This was a rescue mission, with likely all your lives at stake.

You leaned your head back, wondering if anyone else would really even know or care what had happened to you if you never came back from this.

The escape from Stryker’s lab had been life threatening as well of course, but it was so different when it’d just been one thing after another. Events unfolding too quickly to really develop any sense of dread, it’d been all adrenaline and luck really.

But even in a jet like this, flying all the way to Egypt was more than just a skip and a jump. It was well enough time to dwell on your own inexperience and shortcomings, to wonder if this was the last time you’d ever do anything at all.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice was quiet, just to you, as you glanced over, having been mired only in your own thoughts until that moment.

He was sitting beside you, both of you strapped in these jump seats that ran along both sides of the jet. Vaguely you realized the others had started talking once more as well then. Maybe that was why he felt more comfortable speaking to you again now.

He hadn’t addressed you directly since you’d reunited with the others. Though you wouldn’t blame him if he was just as nervous as you were deep down. But from his self deprecating jokes in front of your friends earlier, about still living at home with his mother, he would at least seem better at hiding fear if he did have any.

“Hey,” You answered back reflexively, looking at him fully again.

“So uh....” He was chewing a piece of gum, as if some part of him still had to stay in motion in order to remain comfortable. “That car, that was pretty sweet. That yours or what?”

Honestly it took you a very long, awkward pause before you could piece together any idea of what he was referring to. But being that you’d only known him since literally just earlier today, there wasn’t anything else he could possibly mean. “The yellow convertible?” You questioned anyway, not really surprised by much of anything now.

“Yeah, I mean, I take the road if there is one. I saw you guys on the way to the house,” He answered, still offering a little explanation regardless. “Looked like you knew what you were doing though.” There was a more sheepish grin emerging. “I was going to stop and say hey I guess. But then I saw the, you know, fireball coming out the house and all, had to go see what that was about. Save everybody or whatever...” He trailed off after a bit, maybe realizing that you were just letting him ramble.

It reminded you of how you’d acted with him during the whole lab fiasco. He seemed the more confident one down there, while you got easily flustered. You really wondered if having your friends here now was making the difference. As if he was more unsure of himself when there was a potential audience to hear what you might say back to him.

It was interesting, getting to put more of those pieces together, or at least starting to be able to when it came to him. For putting on the display of an extrovert, and if you could finally admit it, even him being an outright flirt, you felt more and more sure that that was only skin deep really. That was just the outer layer he protected himself with.

“It was one of the Professor’s cars,” You smiled genuinely, probably the first one since they’d told you where you were going in this jet and why. “We were on our way back from the mall.”

That warmth from you seemed to ease him back into his normal tone, maybe a slight relief in him that you didn’t find it off putting that he’d already taken notice of you before you even knew he was anywhere around.

“Oh, mallrat, huh?” He quipped, “I can picture that.”

He was teasing, but you gave it right back. “There is no way you can tell me that you don’t end up in music stores wherever you live, like a lot.” You hadn’t forgotten his band t-shirt after all. You thought you’d seen him putting away headphones at some point too. “And that leather jacket and pants you had? Come on, that didn’t come from some bargain clothes rack.”

You might have had him for just a moment there. Just a flicker of surprise in his eyes to know you really had paid him that much attention, before he retorted, “Hey, what’s the point of a fast car if it has no style, right?”

“Says the guy who most people can’t even see until he slows down.” But you were purposeful to make clear in your tone that that wasn’t an insult at all, just continuing a little more bravely afterward, “Though their loss I guess.”

There was no mistake then, he really did pause. You could feel the slightest bit of heat in your face again, but you were not about to take that back. Not when you didn’t even know what was really awaiting you all at the end of this flight.

And you were still the next one to speak, that resolve remaining. “If we make it out of this, maybe you can come with me back over there to our mall. Help me pick out some new stuff.” You tried not to make it sound funny, but on some cosmic level it still was. “Seeing as how my room and everything I owned was incinerated and all.”

“Deal.” He said immediately. Only a little afterward seeming to realize that maybe he sounded a bit too eager. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “I mean, I’m pretty good at Ms. Pac Man too. They have an arcade, right?”

“Yes.” You answered, trying not to look too amused, and going along with him to help him feel more comfortable. “I can’t say I’m actually any good, but they do have a Flash Gordon pinball machine I always play. And a couple of air hockey tables. That’s my go-to.” No question with his speed that he would likely annihilate you on both. But the idea of being in a much simpler, safer place like that with him some day was a pleasant one right now.

“Oh yeah. I can show you a thing or two.” He was clearly back in his element then, looking smug once more.

“I’m sure you will.” You could only wonder if the god complex mutant and his lackeys you were now off to go challenge would have any idea that in the back of your mind you’d now be dreaming of a simple date in an arcade as extra motivation to get back home in one piece.

———————————

It wasn’t long before things had started spiraling in quick succession again. You’d all arrived in Cairo to find it essentially destroyed, save for what this fake god had already erected in monument to himself. A huge pyramid in the style of the ancient Egyptians, one he’d taken Xavier hostage inside.

It hadn’t been clear though how much of the destruction was done by this mutant, and how much had actually been at Magneto’s hands as it was with more shock that you’d found him in the middle of this as well. Now serving this apocalyptic mutant.

You knew enough about Magneto to both fear and respect him. Even though his history with the Professor went back so many years, Erik Lehnsherr as he was actually named was always more on the side of peace through violence. While Xavier preached ideals of tolerance and education for regular humans to one day accept mutant kind, Magneto thought them incapable of such, and had no qualms on preemptive strikes against non mutants as well as eye for an eye type vengeance.

But even for Magneto this seemed surprising. He would really just give Xavier up this way? As you’d gotten closer, Jean had sensed that Apocalypse (what you were now calling the new enemy in your own mind) intended to take over the Professor’s body, possessing him permanently to gain access to his mind control powers and become basically omniscient. He’d be unstoppable with everyone as his puppets then. Free will would cease to exist.

“You guys help Nightcrawler get into the pyramid!” Raven called back to all of you as the jet was landing. “Get Charles and I’ll take care of Erik.”

You’d snapped back to attention at the orders, and you saw that Peter was suddenly at her side.

He looked so focused all at once, “I can get you in there,” He told her, referring to the debris field of broken buildings and all else now churning, stuck in a huge magnetic orb with Magneto at its center. When she didn’t look sure, he continued quickly. “I came here for him, let me help you.”

Raven nodded to Peter then in agreement, knowing there was no time for more back and forth. “The rest of you, get Charles on this plane and get him out of here!”

You too knew what was at stake, there was no reason to argue, even if there still must have been concern on your face. You didn’t understand Peter’s change and sudden fixation on Magneto.

But it was only Kurt that spoke up immediately, yelling back to Raven and Peter, “We’re not leaving without you!”

Peter looked back at that, “Don’t worry.” In fact, you realized he was looking directly to you for one moment. “We’ll catch up.”

———————————

While Peter had sped Raven out of sight to try and reason with Magneto, Moira had stayed with the jet and Hank had come with you, Scott, Jean, and Kurt.

But as you all ran along the rubble, trying to make your way to the pyramid, it hadn’t been but moments until you encountered Apocalypse’s other soldiers, mutants set on stopping you all from interfering by any means necessary.

A tall, blonde man with wings made out of metal, a ninja seeming woman with a pinkish purple energy she could wield from her hand like a blade even while also carrying a katana, and a girl nearer your own age with stark white hair and seemingly the most power out of the three as she’d flown right towards you throwing lightning bolts from her hands.

You’d had no choice but to split up. Which you were sure was what they’d wanted even as you’d chosen to try and take the white haired girl’s attention. You didn’t really want to find out what would happen if one of those bolts struck you directly, but you could guess you had the best chance of anyone to maybe absorb some of it in your energy form.

You’d immediately powered up, glowing white as she’d chased you around the sky, both of you darting and flying in some kind of bizarre dog fight.

Your heart had been racing though, no amount of training at the mansion could actually prepare you for dueling with someone who actually wished to harm you. Everything to this point had just been about learning to control your powers, maybe even firing an energy blast at a dummy or paper target or two. But you’d never tried to hurt anyone. Not on purpose.

“Why are you helping him!?” You yelled out to her, swerving again as she tried to get close enough to you to land a hit. You generated an orb of light energy from one hand, letting it destabilize before you threw it towards her. It collapsed into itself, exploding to make a shockwave through the air that pushed her back again.

“He’s going to make it so we never have to hide what we are again!” She growled back in frustration, steadying herself in the air before her eyes hazed over into solid white.

You doubted that could be good, and of course it wasn’t as she raised her arms, a tornado like blast of wind then trying to knock you from the sky. You were able to shield yourself somewhat with your force fields, but the barrage of debris and wreckage that came with the winds made it too difficult to keep track of her as she did nearly land a direct lightning strike then.

“You’re wrong!” You yelled back, even as you felt numb and disoriented briefly, like the electricity surge was messing with your own energy. “He’s just using all of you! He only wants slaves, nothing more! And you’re just going to hand us all to him!”

She didn’t answer back after that, but you knew it wasn’t as if you could change anyone’s mind for them. She’d have to live with her own choices, just as you’d have to live with yours.

After a good while of this tit for tat though, you were really trying to take her out of the sky at last, knowing you needed to find and help the others as this had already been going on for far too long. You started trying to get her in the chest with white energy beam after energy beam shooting from your hands. She was fast, but you were able to at least get her in one shoulder at last as she spun with the force, losing altitude quickly with the hit.

Even as she fell, you could see her already correcting course though, trying to take aim at you again as she glared upwards.

But you didn’t get to see what happened next. A three fingered hand grasped your left arm suddenly from thin air, and then you were collapsing onto the floor of the jet you’d come here in.

“Gotcha, time to go!” Kurt spoke quickly as you looked to him in surprise, that strange burning smell hanging in the air briefly that always accompanied his teleporting. It was as instant a feeling as moving with Peter, but thankfully without the subsequent vertigo as you stood quickly, powering down, even as you were already looking around for the speedster.

With relief you did see Jean cradling the Professor’s head as they sat on the floor, Xavier unconscious but still breathing. But you did not see Peter or Raven.

Moira and Hank were already firing up the jet engines and you grabbed hold to the wall as you felt the craft quickly rising. “What about Peter and Raven?” You called out over the noise of the turbines spooling up faster and faster.

“We’ll have to trust them to figure it out, we’ve got to get Charles out of here now!” Hank answered back, leaving no room for debate.

You felt an unease building in your stomach, but it was true that if Apocalypse got Xavier, that Peter, Raven, or anyone else would then no longer matter anyway. At least for now you could hope Peter would just take Raven and run somewhere far from here. Xavier and Jean could use their psychic abilities to find them later and you could reunite.

But a hard thud above you left you all looking upward as the jet rattled.

“What the hell was that!?” Moira called out.

As soon as you saw that pinkish energy blade emerging through the jet’s hull, you had already powered up again, glowing and ready to shield the others as best you could. Apocalypse’s soldiers were proving too difficult to shake.

Yet Jean had other plans, “Everyone, grab onto Kurt!” She yelled.

You didn’t know what altitude you were already at, but you knew it wasn’t a survivable one for the jet itself if it was ditched now. Yet a fight in this close of quarters with all your powers would likely end in the same result. So her choice wasn’t as irrational as it first seemed.

You reached one hand quickly back, firmly grabbing onto Kurt’s shoulder, even as you kept your other hand raised towards where the metal winged mutant and the blade wielding woman were now trying to force their way in through the breach they’d created in the hull.

“I’ve never done it with this many people!” Kurt warned as you all held to him.

“Get us out of here!” Jean commanded, her desperation bringing out a forcefulness you hadn’t yet seen from her.

But Kurt was still straining, the sound of his opening whatever portal he used clearly heard but not bringing you anywhere as he tried several times.

The man with the metal wings jumped down into the cockpit, now just feet away as you realized what you had to do.

“Go without me!” You screamed over the rush of wind now coming through the hull breach. You let go of Kurt, making direct eye contact with Jean.

You could get out on your own. At least you were going to try. It was the only way. Kurt wasn’t able to take you all.

You felt that Jean was listening, that she heard your thoughts and that as difficult as it was, she agreed just as quickly. It was the only way.

“Do it!” She urged Kurt even through the horrified look he gave you both.

“I’m taking it down.” You also heard her voice say in your head almost simultaneously. That briefest warning to ready yourself before she willed the controls to throw the plane into a nosedive and cause Apocalypse’s soldiers to lose their footing.

The last you saw of your other friends was still their shocked and frightened expressions as they disappeared from right in front of you. But this was your only chance as well, propelling yourself as fast you could, right through the fading cloud of gas they left behind and past the now tumbling winged mutant as all your focus went to that small square of sunlight that they’d cut into the hull.

It was your one window of survival. For just the briefest moment, you felt him try to grab hold of your leg as you flew past him. But you kicked him with the other leg as hard as you could manage, breaking free into the open air as the jet plummeted on without you.

Out the corner of your eye you saw the woman had remained on the outside of the jet, but jumped free from it as well. You lost sight of her as you both fell, focusing only on trying to slow your descent to a survivable speed. It was one thing to levitate yourself up from a neutral position, and wholly another to try and control your energy field around yourself enough to reverse the terminal velocity transferred to you from being within a crashing plane.

The ground still came too fast, too hard. You blacked out on impact, laying alone in the dirt as your light energy faded, receding back inside you.

————————————

An unknown time later, something jolted you awake. You could hear screaming as you opened your eyes. You were laying on your side. Everything hurt and you could taste blood in your mouth.

But you were already forcing yourself back up as you swallowed. Disoriented as you were, you still recognized that voice. It was Peter. He was hurt.

You were looking all around you, and it didn’t take long to see the source and reason for the screams.

Not far from you at all, Apocalypse stood in a clearing from all the rubble. Peter right beside him, half crumpled to the ground. One of Peter’s feet was encased in the earth, trapping him there like an animal in a snare. His other leg was clearly broken, twisted at a grossly unnatural angle.

You felt a foreign rage beginning to burn up inside you, but before you could even physically react you saw the woman with the katana again. Nowhere in your mind did you take any time to consider how she would look so clean and uninjured having just come from the same circumstances as you of barely escaping the crashing jet.

All you saw was her walking towards her master, sword at the ready to finish Peter.

“Stop, (Y/N)!”

Charles screaming inside your head was the only thing that kept you from revealing yourself at that moment.

“It’s Raven! I’m telling you, it’s Raven!” Even Charles was struggling to break through your flaring emotions, as he repeated himself desperately. “He’ll kill you, (Y/N)! Stay in place, I beg you!”

The Professor had never spoken to you in such a way before. You gripped onto the broken wall in front of you, still only just obscured from their view as you saw Apocalypse grab Peter by the hair, jerking the young man’s head back roughly to expose his throat to the woman.

“It’s Raven, please trust her!” Charles did not let go. You could feel him actually starting to control you even, something he had absolutely never done before, though your emotions were exploding like they also never had. He didn’t want you to make a life ending mistake.

“(Y/N), please.” He called again and you realized you were being held in place, unable to move out any further. You were forced to only watch as the woman raised her blade, Peter wincing in fear and pain beneath her as she swung it.

But it was only Apocalypse’s throat that ripped open. Yet even in your surprise, any sense of victory was still non existent. No blood poured from the wound, and it healed completely within moments as he only grabbed his supposed traitor by the neck, holding her up immediately.

Raven’s feet hung in the air while she choked, her blue skin and true appearance quickly returning as she could no longer control her disguise as Apocalypse strangled her.

And it was only then that you felt Xavier letting go of you, in his own shock as Apocalypse tried to bait him out.

“Charles! Come! Rescue your weaklings!” Apocalypse challenged aloud, still dangling the now helpless Raven while Peter stayed trapped at their feet. “Give your life for theirs!”

He was going to kill her right in front of you. You powered up, knowing there was no other choice. You had to-

“No. I’m still connected to him. Let me get in his head, (Y/N), then you can go to them.” The professor spoke quickly, yet with a touch of new resolve.

“Charles! Will you do nothing?” The false god continued to bellow.

This time you listened without being forced to. You did see Apocalypse pause as if Xavier was indeed making contact. It was still an agonizing wait, but when he finally let go of Raven, you allowed yourself some shred of hope. You’d never seen anyone be able to overpower the Professor mentally, once he was fully in.

But that hope was also short lived as just moments later Apocalypse raised his hand abruptly. At will he dissolved the outer wall of a nearby building. You could see Scott and Hank then exposed, themselves just as surprised and staring out. But you knew it could only mean that Apocalypse had used Xavier’s connection against him just that quickly to root out his hiding place.

This could be the end then. You resigned yourself that the only choice was to die fighting if that is what it had to be. But you weren’t as alone as you thought.

As Apocalypse had left Peter and Raven behind, now striding confidently to his prize, two massive steel beams suddenly shot into his path. They buried themselves into the ground, crossing into an X to block him.

You looked back into the sky, glad in this single moment that you had been right about at least one thing. Magneto wouldn’t give Xavier up in the end. Not without bloodshed anyway.

“You betray me?” Apocalypse asked, already turning to deal with Erik instead.

“No. I betrayed them.” Magneto unleashed hell then, every bit of metal he could pull shooting towards Apocalypse in an unending assault as the other raised a shield that incinerated each and every piece as it hit. But doing so clearly taxed him, allowing the perfect moment for the rest of you to join the battlefield.

You got to Peter almost simultaneously as Hank got to Raven. You and Beast were clearly in the same mindset of getting the injured out of the immediate firefight before you would join in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, the Professor froze me,” You spoke in quick apology to Peter, using a small energy blast to break up the earth that had been hardened around his trapped foot. Once cracked, you broke the rest of it free just with your fingers.

He was obviously surprised, grateful, and maybe even confused all at once as you gently lifted him with the help of your powers. You wrapped his arm around your shoulders, trying to mind his broken leg as you helped support him while gliding over to a safer spot some distance away.

“Stay here.” You spoke, sitting him down so his back was against a mostly still standing wall to shelter them.

Hank was sitting Raven down in the same manner beside him as Peter suddenly spoke up to you. “Wait.”

You were still crouched in front of him, you’d been about to stand back up when his hand went around the back of your neck and pulled you in closer.

Before you could register anything else, you felt his lips press against yours. It was a bit harsh, desperate even, and then it was over just as fast as you pulled back in surprise.

“In case we don’t ever get to make it to that arcade,” he responded to your shocked expression that was still evident even in your energy form like this.

You took a breath, now was not the time for verbalizing any of this. But you wanted to show you agreed with the sentiment. You leaned back in, kissing him yourself for one longer moment, one hand gently cupping the side of his face before you stood back up. He allowed the contact readily and you could only wonder what it felt like to him when you were enveloped in light like this.

Hank and Raven just gave you both the most confused of looks, but nothing was said as you and Beast had then rushed back off to throw yourselves into the fight.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 6

@pocketramblr another :)

.

Shouta trudged back to the staff break room. His counseling session with Midoriya had lasted a little over an hour, so while there were still teachers in the building, many of them had left. With the exception of semi-retired heroes like Recovery Girl, everyone working here had two full time jobs. Hizashi, despite his carefree air, had even more than that in the form of his radio show. Hizashi had probably left with the students.

But Hizashi wasn't either of the ones he wanted to talk to. Not today.

He opened the door. Three, no, four teachers were there, but Snipe didn't count, seeing as he was completely passed out on one of the couches with his gas mask half off. He must have had an early shift patrol today, poor sucker.

Nemuri was there, too, with most of her hero outfit on. She was applying her hero-grade makeup (water proof, resistant to three common contact poisons, and guaranteed not to react badly with mace).

More importantly, Kan and Yagi were both there, poring over papers on the same desk, no less. Shouta walked up to the table and looked down at sheets and sheets full of incomprehensible numbers.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We-"

'Don't tell him!" said Kan, urgently. "This is going to be my class's leg up on Aizawa this time around."

"Haha! Good one!" Yagi slapped Kan's back, and apparently even in his skeletal form he could pack a punch, because Kan had the air knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Yagi continued, "I'm making personalized nutrition plans for his class!"

"What?"

"One of my undergraduate degrees was in nutritional and health sciences, after all!"

Wow, there was a lot to unpack there, but Shouta was more than happy to leave it in its box. He had other fish to fry and topics to interrogate. Small talk requirement fulfilled, he moved on.

"How well do you know Midoriya?"

Yagi blinked and put down his pencil. "Moderately so? We met about this time last year and have been meeting regularly since then."

So, so much to unpack.

"Why?"

"Ah, he... impressed me, I suppose? He was involved in the bodysnatcher incident last year."

That was an understatement.

"He had a lot of heroic spirit!" continued Yagi. "But... not so much in the, ah, body category. I thought it would be a shame, a waste, really, if he wasn't able to pursue his dream, and a hero school prep course wasn't really in the cards for him, considering his quirk status and the timing... And I did have this degree..." He waved his hands vaguely at the table. "I just gave him a little help."

"What brought all this on, anyway?" asked Nemuri. "Midoriya is the little green haired kid, right? One of Chibiida's new friends?"

"If you keep calling him that, I won't be held responsible for when he snaps and attempts murder. But, yes, that's Midoriya."

"So...?"

"He told me I was the best teacher he'd ever had."

Nemuri started laughing.

"Oh," said Yagi. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along so well."

"I think he's pulling your leg, Shouta," said Nemuri, coming over to pat him on his shoulder. "Man, I didn't think a friend of Chibiida's would have it in him. Such youth!"

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much he wasn't."

Nemuri's laughter died off.

"Judging from some comments he made today," said Shouta, "not to mention the discrepancies between his record and his observed behavior in the classroom, I'd say he's been the target of severe quirkism in the past, particularly from his teachers. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?"

Yagi's face darkened and the mood in the room grew much more somber. "Not in so many words, no. However... some of his comments about his teachers disturbed me enough to bring it to the attention of the Musutafu Educational Services District, but as an unrelated stranger without concrete proof..."

("You can use the acronym, you know," muttered Vlad.)

"You're telling me they ignored the number one hero."

Yagi made a face. "I didn't go to them as All Might. Can you imagine the media frenzy if I did that? I didn't want to paint that kind of target on young Midoriya's back."

That was fair, actually. If largely-anonymous Shouta had enemies, All Might had ten times as many. Not to mention supposed fans.

"Other avenues of inquiry were also fruitless," said All Might, countenance darkening. "I asked some of my police colleagues, but they don't have full discretion over the direction of their investigations, and, again, if I were to use my weight to move them... It would get out, and people would wonder why I was so concerned with an apparently normal middle school."

"Did you try talking to Nezu about it?"

"No? Why?"

Shouta reminded himself that although Yagi was an alumnus, he was also very new as a teacher, and was as of yet unfamiliar with Nezu's more interesting traits.

"I'm going to," said Shouta, "and you're going to come with me." He turned to Kan. "Have you heard anything from Bakugo about quirk discrimination?"

"All I've heard from him are explosions, threats, and some kind of complex I don't have nearly enough psychiatric training to- They're from the same school," he realized.

"Yeah."

Kan pinched his brow. "So, the sweet shy kid you keep gushing about-" Both Shouta and Yagi attempted to reassure Kan they weren't gushing, "-and the demon brat are from the same school."

"That is what their records say," agreed Shouta. "Did you know, Yagi?"

"Oh, that they knew each other? Yes. Actually, I was rather under the impression they were childhood friends, as Midoriya ran out to help him during the bodysnatcher incident."

Shouta grunted. It was possible. He hadn't seen the two of them interact, at any rate.

"I'm going to Nezu with you," said Kan, standing up. "No matter what else this hell school did, they deserve to suffer for inflicting Bakugo Katsuki on me with those recommendations full of lies."

"Why don't you just expell him if he's that bad?"

"Because he's talented, hardworking, and hasn't actually broken any rules except for the swearing. He's just a pain I wasn't prepared to deal with and will probably contribute more to my hearing loss than Yamada by the end of the year."

"Wait, wait," said Yagi. "What exactly are you expecting Nezu to do in this situation?"

"Well," said Nemuri, who still hadn't left yet, "let's just say there's a reason hid name is 'god' in the staff group chat."

.

Terrible did not even begin to describe how Izuku felt when he woke up. His skin was static. His mouth was dry in a way that hurt. It felt like a siren was going off in his brain, and also like it was too quiet. He wanted to both run all the way to the school and hide in his closet.

This, of course, left him paralyzed in bed.

He hadn't felt remotely like this since the first time someone had left spider lilies on his desk at school. What was wrong with him?

No, that was the wrong question. All signs pointed to him having Danger Sense. He was in danger. And also immobile in bed.

With a great deal of effort, he turned to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. The clock in the corner read 4:42. Far too early to call anyone. And yet...

With shaky fingers, he navigated to Mr. Yagi's contact information and pressed dial. To Izuku's surprise, it only rang once.

"Young Midoriya? Is something wrong?"

The sound of his voice loosened the terrible knot under Izuku's breastbone. "I- May-maybe? I don't- I don't know, I think so."

There were sounds of movement on the other side of the line. "What happened?"

"I just- just woke up, and I- I think it's Danger Sense. It- Something bad is going to happen."

"I'm on my way. Is your mother with you?"

"N-no. She's at a- at a tech conference in Tokyo. She won't be back until- until tomorrow. Mr. Yagi, I don't- I don't think it's something here. I think it's later... at the school."

There was a pause. "My boy, are you quite sure?"

Izuku's laugh was just a little hysterical. "I mean, I'm- I'm pretty new to this, but..." he'd like to think his flight or fight reflex would have a more constructive response to am immediate threat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you up, I should have waited-"

"Nonsense! Forewarned is forearmed, and time is one of the most valuable resources a hero can have! I'm still picking you up, I'll just-" Mr. Yagi coughed, "-take the car instead."

"The car? You mean Hercules!?" The excitement was enough to free Izuku from his paralysis and propel him into a sitting position.

"Well, yes, but, my boy, how did you know? I don't think I've ever mentioned the name in my interviews..."

"But you did! In one of your American interviews. It was for a local station and you and Mr. Shield were on together."

"But those were in English."

"I know! When I found out about them, it really motivated me to work on my English! I think I could probably pass the Level Two fluency test..."

"Young Midoriya, have I ever told you how glad I am that you aren't a villain?"

.

"Hikage, did Danger Sense ever make you feel this bad?" asked Nana as Yoichi fussed in the background.

"Super Anxiety made me feel this bad all the time. Sometimes, it made me feel worse. I got used to it."

Nana let out a sigh of relief. It sucked to Ninth right now, but if it was normal for the quirk...

"That's good, then," said En. "Not for Ninth, obviously, but if that's just how the quirk works, he'll be able to figure it out. What did it usually mean, when you felt like this?"

"Generally, that someone was planning on killing me in the next few hours."

Dead(er than usual) silence.

"Ah," said En.

"You know," said Nana, "sometimes the kinds of lives we led slips my mind, but then the universe is always real happy to turn around and slap it back into me."

Yoichi started screeching.

.

"Do you feel any worse now that we're here?" asked Mr. Yagi after shutting Hercules down.

"Not really," said Izuku. He slumped down in his seat and looked away. "I'm sorry, I dragged you out of bed and this is probably just a stupid pointless meaningless panic attack..." He felt tears begin to prick at the edges of his eyes. He was so stupid. And selfish. All Might could be out helping people right now. Or taking care of himself (which, according to Recovery Girl's comments during their training sessions, he didn't do nearly enough of).

"Hey, hey, there's no need to cry, it's alright."

"Because you're here?" asked Izuku with a sniffle.

"Well, yes, but also, even if it was 'just' a panic attack, I'd still want to be here for you." He reached across the central console to pat Izuku on the shoulder. Then his face twisted into something rather sheepish. "But on the subject of panic attacks, something did occur to me on the way here."

Izuku looked back down at his knees. "What is it?"

"This is the anniversary of the day we met."

Izuku... had known that, actually. Waking up as he had had driven it from his mind, but the date was marked on his calendar. He'd even gotten All Might a gift, although he hadn't yet talked himself into being brave enough to give it to him, and with what happened today, it would most likely languish in his desk drawer for an indefinite period of time as the idea of giving it became progressively more awkward.

"My boy? I can't quite make out what you're saying. You're mumbling."

Izuku clapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. I'm just an old man with hearing problems."

"You're not old! It's... I just- I just don't see how- how that's connected to this." He gestured at himself in all his vaguely-trembling glory.

"Young Midoriya... you almost died three separate times that day. That's traumatic. And sometimes anniversaries are... reminders."

"I only almost died once?"

"The first time with the sludge villain, grabbing on to my leg- and I don't think I ever apologized for telling you to let go, I was just so surprised- and then the sludge villain again."

"But I only almost died the first time..." He trailed off as Mr. Yagi gave him a look. He'd thought his mother was the only one who could give looks like that... "Do you really think this is connected to that?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Yagi. "Do you feel like it might be?"

"I don't know," said Izuku. He bent over and knotted his fingers in his hair.

"Do you think it might help to stay home today?"

"No!" yelped Izuku. "No," he repeated, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Alright, alright. Never fear, my boy." Mr. Yagi gave him another steadying shoulder pat. "In that case, let's go into this with the assumption that this is danger sense, and it is attempting to warn you of a real threat."

"Okay," said Izuku. He rubbed at his eyes. "What do we do first?"

Mr. Yagi tensed and looked up at the top floors of UA. "Well..."

.

"Hm!" said Nezu. "That is something of a conundrum! The extent of your quirk is unclear, and it is not properly registered, so we cannot go through the official routes we normally would for a warning given through a precognitive or clairvoyant quirk, even given that we are aware of One for All and the probable nature of Danger Sense."

Nezu knowing about One for All had been a bit of a surprise. In retrospect, maybe it shouldn't have been. All Might would have had to tell Nezu something so that Izuku was allowed on campus before he was really a student, and seeing as how All Might was originally teaching here to find a successor... well, it made sense. Izuku just wished he'd been told.

How many other people knew was a question for later, however.

"Your inexperience with the quirk and other circumstances further complicates the matter."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"Whatever for? It isn't your fault." Nezu did not wait for an answer. "Then there is yesterday's incident to consider... You say you felt something with the reporters?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Hm. Yes. Toshinori, I so believe you have a contact who could clear this up much more efficiently."

"I know," said Mr. Yagi. "He isn't picking up his phone."

"You don't think-?" started Izuku.

"No, no, he just hasn't been speaking to me lately."

"Oh? I was under the impression you had been communicating with him regularly since returning to Musutafu."

"He thought I would change my mind about something I didn't change my mind about, apparently. It doesn't matter. What else can we do?"

"A good number of things, luckily. Midoriya, I am going to make a series of phone calls. I would like you to tell me if the sensation you are experiencing changes at all while I make them."

"Yes, sir."

Nezu began methodically going through Izuku's list of teachers, warning them that something 'like yesterday' might happened and going over lesson plans and safety procedures. Nothing really changed. Until Nezu called Thirteen.

(Oh, gosh, they were going to go to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint on a field trip today? That was so cool!)

But after Nezu talked to Thirteen about checking safety systems, a little bit of the tension he'd been holding onto leaked away.

"Interesting," said Nezu. "Perhaps we should reschedule rescue training until-"

Izuku dove for Nezu's garbage bin.

"-or perhaps not," mused Nezu as Izuku expelled the meager contents of his stomach.

It was a good thing he hadn't eaten breakfast.

.

"Hikage," said Banjo. "I'm sorry for calling you a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard with a warped sense of humor if this is what you had to put up with all the time."

"You called me a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard?"

"Not to your face, but yes."

"Well. It isn't as if those things aren't all true..."

.

"I'm okay," said Izuku. "That just... felt bad."

"No cancelations in that case," said Nezu as Mr. Yagi hovered.

"Y-yeah. Oh gosh, now I know how Uraraka feels..."

"Perhaps you should stay home-"

"No! I can't! That would be..."

Nezu held up his hands- paws? "It was merely a suggestion. Can I offer you some tea?"

"Yes, please," said Izuku, voice catching uncomfortably on his raw throat.

"I do have a few more calls to make. Do you feel up to staying, or would you prefer to head down to Recovery Girl? Or perhaps even the cafeteria? I imagine you haven't eaten breakfast."

"I'd like to stay."

"Very well." Nezu picked up his phone again. Izuku could just make out the click on the other end when it was picked up. "Am I a mouse? A dog? A bear? One thing's for sure! I'm the principal!" There was laughter on the other end of the line. "No, not at all! I am in fact calling for you, Tensei. Or should I say, Ingenium? I'm aware this is last minute, and you were planning on taking the day off- How do I know? It was quite simple, really- but between the break-in yesterday and a tip I received this morning regarding a threat to the school, I would like a few more hands on deck than usual. Why, yes, you can stay with your brother's class. Do try not to tease Shouta too much. He has a reputation to maintain." After a few more pleasantries, Nezu hung up. "Midoriya?"

"I... think that's better? I'm sorry, it's hard to tell what could be the quirk and what's just me feeling bad."

Nezu nodded. "In that case, I do recommend that you head to Recovery Girl's office. My other calls will be similar, and the other heroes will not be with your class."

"Why not?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Because Midoriya's reaction to the field trip being canceled suggests that the danger may not be limited to himself or his class. Oh! And one more thing. Midoriya, I noticed that you put in some costume alteration requests. Naturally, most of them will not be finished until some time next week, however, some of the support items you mentioned are fairly common. If you have time before the field trip, you should pay a visit to Power Loader."

.

Izuku hadn't expected it, but he did feel much better after eating, despite his continuing sense of impending doom. It was also about half an hour from the beginning of homeroom, so he had the time to go to the support department and check if they had anything he could take.

He hoped they had grappling hooks. Izuku had always wanted a grappling hook.

Mr. Yagi took him most of the way there, but students had started to arrive at this point, and Izuku convinced him to go prepare for classes (and hide in the staff area so that no one would wonder why he, a skeleton man not recognizable as a hero, was at the school). Before too long, Izuku stood in front of a rather sturdy-looking metal door. He hoped this was the right one.

He raised his hand to knock just as something crashed into him. Ah. This was it for sure. The way he would die. The danger he had foreseen.

No. Wait. Never mind. He was fine, just on the ground.

"Oh! There was a person there! You okay?"

"U-um," said Izuku, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I'm fine, just a little startled."

"What're you doing here, anyway?"

"I- I'm here for... support... gear?" He sort of trailed off as he looked up.

It was the intense pink haired girl from the other day. As he watched, her expression changed from one of mild concern to calculating interest.

"Support gear, you say?"

.

Shouta answered his phone as he walked down the hall. "Nezu, I've already done every security check I can think of that'll fit-"

"Not quite why I was calling, although I can see why you would think so. One of your students needs to be rescued from the support department."

Shouta changed direction without missing a beat. "It's Midoriya, isn't it?"

"Why, yes."

"Did you send him down there without warning him?"

"Yes, again. You know me so well!"

Shouta hung up.

[wyn-n-tonic]

Tomorrow

Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: It's about the yearning. Author's Note: Hiiiii. So, I was sitting here drinking my Respect Oscar Isaac juice and thinking about how I feel like I'm really shit at the whole second person/reader insert perspective and why not experiment with the both of them? I decided this is a gift to my beautiful friend @soyelfuegoquearde​ because she has reignited this flame for Oscar in my soul and she just deserves it. Also, woo woo, two fics in the span of five hours? Maybe I'll write a second part to this, who knows. No editing, we die like men here.

MASTERLIST | Tomorrow | Today | Yesterday

“Fuck off, Santi.”

He’s leaning into the doorframe, face half buried in the arm that supports his weight against the wood but that doesn’t stop you from putting your weight and anger behind the swing to slam it shut.

It doesn’t work, of course it doesn’t. His hand flies out to catch it before it knocks him on his ass and you’d be disappointed if it weren't just a little impressive.

“Nice reflexes, old man, now fuck off.”

There’s a gin-no-tonic hanging from the tips of your right hand as you point his ass back to the street and your eyes are red but you still don’t know if the tears they shed come from sadness or anger. You look at him now, the peachy undertone of his skin glowing through the gold, and it hits you. You are enraged. A vibrant frequency of pain and hurt and fury rippling under your skin since he had the audacity to ambush you at work.

“Darli—“

“No,” you cut him off, “you don’t get to call me that, you left.”

You turn from him, resolving to have the conversation since he won’t take your advice, and walk through back to the kitchen. The thought of another drink is heavy on your mind, a little too appetizing as you down the rest of what’s left and send up a silent prayer that at least he had the courtesy to do this on a Friday. Your days of wrangling pre-teens into math class as the ghost of tequila past rattles your skull are long gone.

But so was Santiago Garcia until about five hours ago.

You turn to face him, his presence heavy on your heels through the house, “speak.”

That shit eating grin he always used to sport tugs at his lips now, a yes ma’am falling easily from his lips like you’re his commanding officer and he’s nothing but a good soldier.

Which is true, the only thing Santiago was ever good at was being a soldier.

“Don't be fucking cute,” you pour yourself another drink, neglecting to offer him one, “why are you here?”

“I missed you.”

It’s a snap reflex, the hefty glass hauled in the general direction of his head. Your favorite shatters against the wall and now it's not just his goddamn bootprints you’ll have to clean from the floors this weekend but it’s shards and the good gin that you only bring out on special occasions.

Or really fucking shitty ones.

You move for the broom through blurred eyes and you can’t tell if you’re drunk or if you’re crying but walking is so difficult now because he said that. Why would he say that?

“You don’t get to say that,” and you grab for the dustpan hanging behind the pantry door, moving forward to clean up another mess that Santiago Garcia caused.

He grabs your wrist as you shuffle forward past him, coaxing the cleaning supplies from your hands, “you're not wearing shoes, I’ve got it.”

Looking up into his normally calculating eyes you see what looks like sorrow in them but you shake that thought, certain it’s only your own reflected back at you.

He shuffles a pile of fragmented crystal together and squats—a noticeable wince contorting his features—to collect it for the trash when you ask,

"Why did you leave?”

It’s small, walls falling a little to your own vulnerability because you want to know. You want to understand what you did to deserve being left like that.

He takes a deep breath and sits up straight, hand resting on his thigh and you wonder how he’s holding that position if he's in so much pain but then he’s speaking and the anger is seeping back through you, bleeding into the sorrow with a rush of blood between your ears.

“You said you needed space.”

“Yes,” your eyes bore into his from above, “space, Santiago. In normal people speak, that means a couple of days so people can get their shit together—“

You can see his breathing quicken, you know from memory like it was yesterday just how fast his heart ticks forward when his chest heaves like that.

“—and figure stuff out with a clear head but, apparently, in Santiago’s world, that means fucking off to South America for three years.”

“I wanted you to go with me.”

It's his turn to sound small now. As you reach for the bottom still on the counter, he almost flinches. Like he’s expecting you to throw this one too.

And you should, it would serve him right, but it’s a seventy dollar bottle of gin and it’s still full up so you decide against it.

“I asked you to go with me.”

“And I asked for space, Santi,” the tears break then, frustration coming to a head, “to figure out the logistics of what that would mean for me and my career and you just chose for me without even a goodbye.”

“Baby,” he's reaching out but still so far away as he lifts himself to his full height, that grimace returning to his features.

"You didn't even call, Santiago!”

"I know.”

"So why are you here? Now? You don’t get to say you miss me, you are the one who chose to leave.”

He licks his lips, "I made a mistake.”

You meet that with a scoff, you know you're the best thing Santiago Garcia has ever had.

“Mistake is such a goddamn understatement.”

He places the dustpan on the table, crossing the distance between your bodies. The alcohol has dulled your reactions, you hardly register his hands wrapped around your arms until they’re there. Warm and burning through the fabric of your sleeves. And he's here. A breath away after thousands of miles and all you can think about is his lips and that last kiss before it all went to shit.

“When you asked for space, my fight of flight kicked in,” and you realize the sorrow in his eyes isn’t your reflection, “I thought you were trying to figure out how to leave me.” It's just him. “So I left before you could.”

You search his face for more answers but you know that’s all he has, the most vulnerable and bare truth of him laid out before you.

“Santi, I—“

“No,” he brings his hands up to cup your face, a thumb running along your bottom lip, “it's late, you’re drunk, let's get you to bed and we can talk about this tomorrow.”

You nod as much as you can, his rough palm stunting your movements, “yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He kisses your forehead and wraps himself around you in a hug, “tomorrow.”

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