#you're safe though as long as you do not go under keep reading

[letternotekisses]

Huhu! Sry same gal again from last req! I just realized with my last request that bw!assistant timeline with the bw cast could be maybe fun to read if you got any hc or drabbles for it :D also Im considering rn to make some doodles based on some of your post/hcs they r just too goooooood<33 i feel inspired

(18+mdni) anon i would go apeshit for doodles that is so SWEET, take my random ass thoughts on this cuz we love assistant reader here on my blog!!

Gabriel is the stern figurehead who keeps everyone in line, and is probably tied with Moira in last place in terms to warming up to the whole sharing idea. He's easily swayed once you settle in though, because you're good at your job and help keep whatever stress he has mounting at bay. (Shoulder massages and plentiful glasses of bourbon whiskey goes a long way.) He often has to step in when the boys are being a tad too rough with you, reminding Genji & Cassidy that bench pressing you as a test of strength in whatever dick measuring contest they have going on won't mean anything when he's around because he's your favourite anyway.

Behind closed doors is a little different. Gabriel allows you an insight to his tender side, not only his stress but his wants and desires. Many a night have you been spread over thick thighs, quivering legs braced either side of him as he works, a smug smile spread over his lips as you twitch around him and beg for any semblance of relief as he steadies you with a large hand on your hip. He won't relent until you're blubbering and flexing your cute little nails into his skin, barely able to make a dent in him as his fat cock nudges against the deepest parts of you. Only then will Gabriel coo mockingly at you, putting his datapad down to fuck you silly over his desk.

You're kept safe and and warm and hidden. Tucked away like one of Blackwatch's many secrets. Gabe protects what belongs to him, and as far as he's concerned? You're one of his, and he's happy to do what it takes to keep it that way. (Plus, his boys like you. And it keeps them busy enough to stop annoying him.)

Cassidy laid the charm on thick as soon as you stepped through the damn door. A pretty secretary, just for them? Oh, he was smitten from the get go. He spends most of his free time draped over your desk as you type away, shooting him an amused look every now and then when you catch him giving you goo-goo eyes. You ask him why he would bore himself like this, and he always replies in the same old way that has your heart fluttering every time. Ain't nothing boring around you, darlin. Reyes often drags him off by the scruff, his hat drooping clumsily on his head as he blows a kiss to you on the way out.

Usually the one to help keep a sense of normalcy for you within Blackwatch, often taking you out to bars and bistros he's familiar with despite Reyes' warnings. Cassidy will happily take any scolding for you, anything to see the pretty secretary smile.

And I'm afraid to say it, but he's an absolute horndog who can't get enough of the attention you give him. Even just curling your fingers under his hairy chin to pull him in for a cheeky kiss has Cassidy harder than stone, the hot mass prodding into your thigh persistently until you do something about it. And if he's not humping into your pretty pussy at the speed of light or eating you out with utmost enjoyment, then he's plopping his hat onto your head while you ride him within an inch of his life. Giddyup, Cowgirl.

Genji was almost elusive when first meeting you, but his hesitation's quickly sobered when you didn't treat him like a monster because of his synthetic appearance. He started to avoid you less and less until he began inviting you along to meditate, or vying for your attention in silly, stupid bets with Cassidy. He's a little old fashioned in his approach, too, leaving behind meaningful gifts at your desk to show that he listens and cares. And whilst he's outwardly the sweetest, you know the mischief that lies behind Genji's cool exterior.

(You take him up on his offer to train you, just a few basic moves so that you can defend yourself. And as good as you get, he'll always be better, putting your ass on the mat for the millionth time and making you pout playfully when he chalks it up to his ninja skills, a humble offering to soothe your bruised ego.)

And he definitely puts his ninja skills to good use by sneaking up on you, making you jump as he surrounds you from behind, your soft body settling perfectly against his own. He takes advantage of the positioning to part your soft thighs from behind, the skin so plush and unmarred unlike his own, Genji can't help but want to bury himself within it. It's often how you end up being fingered until you can barely speak, or being eaten out from under your desk while you try not to break your cool. And when he's not making your life hell by trying to get you caught, he's whisking you away to somewhere a little more private so he can fuck your thighs and bury his face into your neck to inhale that warm scent of yours.

Moira is on strict orders not to scare you off, but the warning only entices her closer. She's slow to approach, like you're a rabbit that might break into a sprint once you catch a hint of her wolfish scent on the wind. But you don't. You're a hardy, spirited little thing and she certainly wants a piece of you now, listening to you talk with her hands clasped behind her back and her head inclined towards you, her eyes bright and predatory and intrigued. It has you flustered and often seeking her approval, something she likes.

As odd as any other Blackwatch agent may find her, you often find yourself drawn back to Moira's presence. You talk about any and all things to her and most times her response is something so decadently intelligent that it flusters you to no end, and she's all too pleased to indulge in whatever information about yourself that you share to her.

She also enjoys using her knowledge to her advantage, helping you discover new things about your body that you may not have even known yourself, pushing you to absolute limits with experiments purely for her own enjoyment. Experiments such as the amount of times you can cum in one session with her, good thing she knows the exact right spot to reach with her fingers, hm?

[shotmrmiller]

getting shot down by ghost without even asking him out or anything because he'd heard from one scottish bird that your type of guy was exactly like him and thinking back on it now, all the qualities you'd listed for your dream man do sound like as if you were describing him. yikes.

you don't take his rejection to heart, even though it does lightly sting but before you get a chance to explain that said scottish bird is an idiot and very mistaken in his assumption, ghost is telling you that it'd never work, you'd only get hurt and that you do take to heart because what does that mean, exactly? does he think you some dewy eyed farm girl looking for love? that you can't have casual sex with someone without eventually wanting for more?

"tha' ain't wha' i said. you'd get hurt, i mean look at ya." what about you? it's not like you'd let any of what happens behind closed doors affect your performance or anything, you and kyle always keep things professional while in the field.

also, is he aware that he doesn't have to have a reason to not want to sleep with you, or anyone else for that matter?

"you're small," he states, as if fact.

small? small where? your irritation dissipates, shoulders bleeding tension as genuine worry begins to set in. his vision might actually be going bad. could it be the black paint he wears under his mask? is it even safe to use on the face let alone near the eyes? did he read the instructions?

but then you realize he's looking at your legs, or specifically, what's between them and things click, and now you're wondering how someone so bloody brilliant could be this fucking stupid.

"while i appreciate your concern, lieutenant," you pointedly snap, "that's not even- i'd be just fine." he's a big guy, for sure. massive, if being honest. his neck alone is easily bigger than both your hands and you've caught him once or twice having to duck his head to enter the debriefing room but him being so endowed that it poses a threat to you is idiotic at best.

he hums, long and low in his throat, as he peers down at you through heavy lidded eyes, and raises his right shoulder in a shrug. "as you like," and that's the one and only warning you got.

simon had given you as much foreplay as needed, had lapped at your pussy until you forgot what day of the week it was, curled and scissored his fingers until his bedsheets were sodden and it still hadn't been enough. he'd only fit about a fourth of it in before he took pity on you and fucked your thighs instead until he got close, pushing his ruddy tip back into your aching cunt because "spillin' outside is a waste," and sent you on your merry way.

you're no quitter though and after some shopping online, your saving grace (dilators) will be here in a week.

(now to find soap and rip the rest of his hair right out his scalp for wagging his tongue.)

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Priority One

You come first for Jason ~800 words

At his core, Jason Todd puts himself last. He's the first to jump in front of a bullet, first charge into a burning fire, first to drop dead center into a group of thugs.

It's not that he doesn't care about his safety, it's just that he deems his safety as lesser. He's stronger, sturdier, and if he's the one that goes down instead of someone else? That's a good thing.

He knows people would worry. People would miss him. But they'd move on the same way they did before. They would fill the gaps in the spaces he leaves, and there wouldn't be a need to pick the pieces off the floor because nothing would break at his loss.

At least, that used to be the truth. It was the truth until you nestled your way into his heart, and he somehow became a fixture in your life. He didn't mean to do it, didn't mean to make you fall in love with him, and he certainly didn't mean to fall in love with you.

But he did.

And now he makes sure you sleep on the inside on the bed, safe between the wall and him. He walks between you and the road, always on guard for swerving cars and shady civilians. He checks your apartment during patrol, though it's more for his peace of mind than yours.

Jason Todd still puts himself last, but the thought of you comes first, when he dives into the line of fire. If he doesn't come home, who's going to fix the leaky faucet or take out the trash when it gets full?

You could do it, he knows you could, but he doesn't want you to have to. So, he upgrades his armor when he would normally put it off. He's quicker to stop the blood dripping from his wounds. He's more aware, when he's shifting through the shadows of an enemy base.

He never worried about what he would leave behind. Not until you started to kiss his jaw before his nightly patrol, not until you started to reach for him every time he came home, beckoning him to your side and under the waiting, warm blankets.

He worries now. He makes plans, sets aside money, and makes his closest allies promise to keep an eye on you if he ever can't. He becomes your shield, whether you're aware of it or not, he has you covered.

You're his priority, and in becoming so, he's slowly becoming a priority, too. You're happier when he's okay, so he steadies his reckless tendencies. He dismantles the bomb in his helmet. He turns on his tracker for Oracle to keep an eye on.

For all the times he looks after himself, it's with you on his mind. He double checks his gear because he needs to pick up paper towels on the way home for you. He cleans his grappling hook because you asked him if he wanted to go out to dinner and a movie tomorrow.

He waits for backup before breaking up Penguin's latest smuggling ring because you recommended a book for him to read, and he only has a handful of chapters left to finish.

It's you, and you, and you again, that gives him a reason to want to make it to sunrise. It's you, that makes him really want to live.

He wants to see coast cities and tiny forest towns outside of whatever crime he's hunting down. He wants to travel and explore and try everything and anything– as long as it's with you.

He'd give up the world, give up everything he knows, as long as he can give you what you want. But all you ever ask, even if it's not in so many words, is for him to come home. So he does. Every night. Every day. Every time. Jason Todd finds his way back to you because your wants are his first concern.

He sheds his armor and kicks off his boots and leaves everything but the thought of you at your windowsill. He smiles when you murmur your sleepy greetings because he knows you think his smiles are pretty. He checks the locks and changes into the pajama set that matches with yours because you giggle every time you see it.

And all these things are so little yet so big all in one. They fill the cracks beneath his skin, and when he finally has you in his arms again, Jason Todd knows that nothing will be greater than this, than you.

There is no adversary, no injury or mission, that would have his gaze from straying from his singular goal; making it back to your arms to fill your days with all you deserve. With joy. With love. And for as long as you desire it, with him.

[bi-writes]

Would Simon do cute-sy couple things with MOB in public? Hand holding, kisses/cuddles, pet names? Or since they are out in the open, is he always reserved until they are in a restaurant or in the car- just away from the public eye

mail-order bride

in private, this man is on his knees for his wife. in the car, he'll put his hand over yours on your thigh or just look over at you time to time to check on you. at home, he fixes your hair for you, offers to cut your nails if you don't get them done, oils your hair, brushes it. he learns your skincare routine and will help you in the bathroom mirror, smoothing it over your face and making sure your skin is hydrated and treated. he definitely asked you to show him how you take off your makeup so that he can help you do it at the end of a long day; he'll come into the bedroom with micellar water and cotton and have you lay your head in his lap as he takes it off for you and murmurs how pretty you are.

he loves putting your shoes on for you, especially if there's laces or things to tie. gets on one knee for you and buckles your heels or ties your runners or zips up your boots.

he doesn't like when you use the stool to get to the top shelf. he likes showing off his strength, picking you up to get you to the shelf, groping you a little and making your head spin when he sets you down and buries his face into your neck.

in public, he's still affectionate, but he doens't initiate much. but he never turns his girl away.

he always wears his mask, so kissing doesn't happen much, but you make it work. when he buys you some flowers at the farmers' market, you kiss him over the mask softly, cooing in his ear, telling him he's so nice, he's so kind. doesn't say anything because he's blushing mad under the mask.

when you're walking along the main road checking out the shops, you reach over and take his hand, and he intertwines your fingers gently as you keep walking.

simon always keeps you away from the road. subconsciously even, always getting between you and someone else, always standing at your back, glaring when someone looks your way too long or looks at you funny. he carries your things for you; shopping bags, groceries, heavy packages, he doesn't let you hold a thing, but you don't mind, especially when the items get heavy. you try not to stare too long as he grunts when he lifts up a heavy box for you, big arms bulging as he carries it into the house.

calls you love, sweetheart, luvvie. his most frequently-used petname is baby, he adores calling you that, cause that's what you are to him. in public, baby makes you shy, in the bedroom, it has you a whining, squirmy little mess.

he doesn't love to be too affectionate in public though. the most he does is hold your hand or keep you close; at the pub, he likes when you sit in his lap sometimes, but he keeps it very cool and casual. although he does grip your chin sometimes or say something into your ear, and it definitely has you squeezing your legs together when you think a little too much about it (effortless sex appeal ok).

in a restaurant, simon is just a straight gentleman. opening doors for you, pulling out your chair, taking your purse for you to hold it or set it aside (and to keep you from paying, although it's adorable when you use the credit card he gave you to give to the waiter). when you need to go to the toilet, he gets up, takes your hand, walks you over so he can see you go inside safely. doesn't matter if it's a fast food place or a fancy restaurant, simon is just always concerned about you and can't sit still unless he knows you get to and from somewhere safely.

with his mask on in public, it's a lot of noses touching, foreheads pressing together, chaste kisses through cloth. always brief and always quiet, but they are intimate exchanges anyways. they are almost always silent, and you speak with nothing but your eyes, but you don't need much else with simon. you know each other by now, can read each other, and you take comfort in your new reality.

he is most himself at home, though. most himself without his mask, cooking you dinner, leaning over you as you bake something for him in your new cast iron pan (he saw the red color of it and thought of you in that cherry dress, couldn't help himself). he's most himself feeding the cats, cutting up whole sardines and quail eggs, a pump of salmon oil and some freeze-dried chicken hearts (the black cat prefers veggies, too, in an elevated bowl--the orange one is forced to eat from a lick mat or else she'll eat too fast for her own good). he's most himself watching you in the mirror, stealing glances of you coming out of the shower, tucking you into bed.

and he feels the most alone when he stands in front of you, duffel bag over his shoulder as johnny honks on the car horn outside. he feels the most alone, the saddest, when he tries to ignore your trembling lip and teary eyes as he says goodbye to you.

in his own home, mask on, feeling so close to you and yet somehow, the farthest from you. and when he kisses you goodbye, mask hiked up over his nose, he tries to forget the taste of your tears and the sound of your choked i love you.

if he thinks about it too long, he won't move from this spot.

[seresinhangmanjake]

His and Yours

Summary: When you're told your pregnancy could cost you your life, Feyd demands you do whatever necessary to keep yourself alive. When you decide to have the baby anyway, it creates a rift in your relationship. Only when you go into labor, does Feyd show himself for who he really is.

Warnings/ Notes: Very angsty, but ends on a happy note. Very sensitive topics about pregnancy, abortion, and conversations about potential death. It’s Feyd here people, and we can imagine how he’d be with sensitive topics. Please only read if you understand this. Requested by @tgmreader

**While it is not necessary to read my other work to read this fic, this works also as another part to my "His" series. However, (even though it ends on a happy note) if this content makes you uncomfortable, it is not necessary to read in order to understand any future parts in the series. I know people love them together and that this is a difficult issue, so do not feel obligated.**

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Words: 2950

“Feyd…” you sigh as you watch him pace back and forth. He doesn’t so much as acknowledge you until you attempt to get up from your seat to go to him.

With an outstretched arm and a finger pointed directly at you, he says in a harsh tone—harsher than you’ve heard in a long time, “Don’t you move a fucking inch!”

You plop back into your seat. “We have to talk about this.”

“No!” he snaps. He descends upon you with rushed stomps, his hands gripping the armrests of your chair. You have to tilt your head back to meet his fiery gaze. “There will be no talking about this,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “No discussion. No negotiations. No weighing the pros and cons.” You swallow as a tear builds in the corner of your eye. Feyd groans and pushes away from the chair. “Stop crying.”

“What do you expect from me?”

“To not die!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the vast, empty room. “I expect my wife to do whatever she has to in order to keep me happy! That’s your job!”

You glance down. Your hand runs over the slightly bulbous shape of your stomach. A tear creates a dark patch on the fabric of your dress. A dress he picked out for you. He’d been so enthusiastic about every element related to your pregnancy, including dressing his wife in new gowns as you grew with the passing months. This is one of the first he’d chosen. 

“I thought my job was to provide you with an heir,” you say.

“Not at the cost of your life!”

He had almost missed the appointment for more professional matters. Now you wish he had. When the doctor told you that you might not survive giving birth, he gave you a choice: risk having the child anyway or drink a tonic that will terminate your pregnancy while it’s still safe. You knew Feyd’s mind was made up in that very moment. But yours wasn’t. This is your child, a perfect combination of you and the only man you’ve ever loved, and yet, your questioning of what is best has your husband looking at you like you’ve lost your damn mind; like you’re a fool with a knack for selfishness.

“I’m the na-Baron,” he says. “You’re under my authority. I decide for the both of us.”

You shake your head. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t care if it’s fair! We can make a hundred heirs, but there isn’t another you!” he screams. You wonder if the rest of the Harkonnen fortress hears—the soldiers, the servants. You wonder if they fear for their lives because of an outburst that has nothing to do with them. They should. Your husband is likely to go on a rampage throughout the place the moment this conversation ends, should it ever.

When you shrivel in your chair, a crease dents the center of his brow. Feyd returns to you, his warm palms cupping your cheeks, his forehead resting against yours. “You can’t ask me to let you do this,” he says with a subtle whimper. “I won’t ever forgive you.”

“What about my forgiveness of you?”

Feyd jerks back. The pain in his eyes shrinks under darkness. “You have nothing to forgive me for.”

Finally, you stand. “You want me to give up our baby,” you argue. “You don’t think I deserve to–”

“No!” You jump. “I care about you! I love you! Not some thing that wants to take you away from me!”

“Feyd–”

“I refuse to continue this conversation,” he says. “I’ve made the decision. It’s done.”

—

He’d tried everything. He had meal preparers mix it in with your usual dinner drink until the nasty sludge color disappeared. He attempted to have your maidservants slip it into your morning tea, your evening glass of warm milk, and, even more desperately, into your bathwater. However, the only servants close enough to you that he could demand such a task from became primarily loyal to you after your marriage six months prior, and as a result, each one informed you of his plans. Five servants fell to your husband's blade before he surrendered that tactic to attempt anew. But with his final effort, what died between you was nothing other than what had been keeping you together—affection. 

With your feelings numb, there was little foundation for your relationship to stand upon. When he took you and made you his concubine, Feyd kept you safe. He did the physical work to protect you in a newly twisted relationship while you did all of the emotional work. You broke down the walls he’d built, got him to open up, showed him that caring for you wouldn’t be the end of the world. Convincing you to get rid of your baby was the hardest he’d ever emotionally worked for you, and since failure was not a thing he had known, nothing was going to stop him. 

He didn’t understand that kissing you with the tonic filling his mouth was too far, even for what he’d already done. He didn’t understand that he had already lost so much of your trust with his deceit and that that kiss was enough to scorch the rest of it. You might have left him had you not been able to wash the substance from your mouth before it could do its damage. 

When you first turned him away, he threw his fits. He screamed at you and for you every day until you made it clear you weren’t coming to him, but even then, he didn’t allow you to neglect the expectations he had for you. In front of others, you were to act as his wife—stand by his side, attend meetings in silence, kiss him goodbye before his trips to Arrakis—but the larger your belly grew, the less he was willing to have you near. 

You don’t sleep in the same bed now. You don’t take your meals together or bathe together or, frankly, see one another. He looks the other way when he crosses your path. His fists clench like he wants to touch you, his Adam’s apple bobs like he’s holding back from kissing you, but his eyes refuse to meet yours, and he won’t go near you. 

You know he's preparing himself to lose his wife. Anger, while present, hasn’t been the dominant fuel for his behavior for a while, and neither is it yours. You were furious, but with your baby due in a month, you struggle to bear the loneliness, and the longer he continues to treat you like you’re a plague, the more you miss him, and the more you fear for your child. Who will love it if you are not here? Who will protect it and teach it and nourish it? Certainly not the one who should and once promised he would. And as the days close in, you wonder if he was right. If you made a mistake. 

—

I need him—that’s all you can think as your baby fights to leave your body. You need your husband here, and the reasons are far too overwhelming, but you can’t focus on anything else. You miss him. You can’t do this alone. And if you die today, you have to say goodbye. You have to tell him you love him and make him swear to protect your child, or it was all for nothing. 

“I need him,” you screech through your teeth with the contraction that hits you.

“My Lady–” one of the nurses begins. Her voice is shaky, worried eyes flicking back and forth between yours and the doctor between your legs who has just reached for another clean rag after discarding a blood-soaked one. “My Lady, the na-Baron–”

“I don’t care! I need him!”

He must’ve been there, listening, because Feyd’s through the door in an instant, and as his eyes lock on to yours, everything else—all the pain and lies—is shoved behind you. He takes a step forward but pauses, momentarily distracted by the wear on your body, before he blinks and continues forward, shoving people aside to get to you. He falls to his knees by your bed and when your hand reaches out, he clutches it tightly in both of his. Too tightly. You can feel your pulse throbbing harder from the pressure on your veins, but you don’t care. 

“Feyd, I–”

“Don’t do this to me,” he mutters as tears well in his eyes. The first you’ve ever seen. He didn’t so much as shed a tear on your wedding day or when you told him you were pregnant, but as the first one falls down his cheek, you realize he’s about to make up for every missed opportunity. 

You can’t respond. You don’t have it in you to tell him that you won’t do anything to him, that you won’t hurt him, that you’ll be fine, and that you’ll be a family. You’re too exhausted to lie. He seems to know it because he doesn’t make the request again. Instead, he kisses your fingers over and over, repeating words of love that are not often said. 

“My Lady, I know it hurts, but if you can shift downwards a bit,” the doctor starts. “At this angle, we might be able to–”

Feyd wipes his eyes and shoots to his feet. “You can save her?”

“There might be a better chance.”

You groan as you maneuver your body. Feyd does what he can to assist, but it doesn’t ease the searing, stabbing feeling at your core. 

“That’s better,” the doctor praises. 

“She’s your priority,” Feyd says sternly.

You gasp. “N-No…”

Your husband’s head whips back to you. “I’m not watching you die,” he growls. 

“For…our baby,” you say to Feyd’s hardened features. You cry harder for the pain of realizing that out of you and your baby, he would still choose you. You don’t know why you expected any different. In the five minutes of his presence, he gave no indication of a change of heart, but it’s disappointing all the same. “P-Please.”

The doctor doesn’t look up from the task at hand but listens for further instruction. “My Lord?”

Feyd stares at you for a long while, his expression unchanged. He doesn’t squeeze your hand or kiss your forehead or brush away the damp hair from your forehead with your next contraction. He doesn’t flinch at your joining shriek. He’s gone, lost in the world of his thoughts until he decides to come back. His eyes close. He grinds his back teeth. His brow pinches and he shakes his head.

“The baby,” Feyd struggles to get out. He pauses before he says, “And then my wife.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The next half-hour is white-hot, blinding agony. You can no longer move—a statue as the doctor slices pieces of you open to accommodate your child’s position. He doesn’t want to come out. He doesn’t want to leave his mother. You can’t blame him. If you had the same fate awaiting you upon joining the world, you might not rush to leave the confines of comfort either. He has no reason to separate himself from everything he’s known to fall into the hands of a man who does not love him. But his unwillingness to leave you is what will eventually take you from him. 

You can feel it. The draining. Of blood. Of life. Your energy is long gone and at this point, you can’t imagine lasting long enough to be saved, even if you survive just in time to hear your baby’s first cry. 

“We’re almost there,” the doctor says. His words are hazy as your brain drifts, struggling to keep you conscious. But then you feel a release of pressure, a missing weight. Emptiness. Solitude.

“Save my wife!” you hear in the aftermath, but you’re not worried about that. You need to know he’s ok and perfect and that he has all of his fingers and toes. You need to know if he has a dusting of hair on his head, or if he’s like your husband. Does he more resemble his father? Complexion and eyes and lips poutier than yours? You need to know these things about your son. 

But you suppose you never will. Your vision is too blurry to make out his tiny form, but among Feyd’s shouts, you hear a beautiful little wail as your eyelids flutter closed. And that’s enough. 

—

The last thing you heard upon your death is the first thing you hear when you wake. And it terrifies you. Surely, you should not be hearing that sound. If you can hear him, then he’s with you, and he can’t be with you because you’re not here. Not really. You don’t exist on the plane he should be existing on. You exist in darkness now, and he was only ever meant to see the light. That’s what you saved him for. That’s what you used every remaining ounce of your will and soul and heart to do. You left so he could stay. So how could he be with you?

“Can you hear him?” 

Yes. You cannot see him, but you can hear him. He sounds so much like you remember. His coos are not the wails, but the noises are brothers. You part your lips to call his name only to realize you never got the chance to give him one. 

“He’s perfect,” the voice says. “Everything about him.” A tear trickles down your cheek. “I need you to meet him. He wants to see his mother.”

You want to see him, too, so badly, and as you feel the desire, a flash of light shoots across your vision. One flash, and then another. Another flash, and then one more. Brightness obscures every image as your eyes shift, attempting to take in your surroundings. You’re not sure this is better. In the darkness, you can rest. This is simply torturous, and your baby is not even here. 

Heat from a heavy, shaky sigh hits your skin. Relief. Lips land on yours for a long beat before finding your forehead. A skull presses to your skull. The breath is taken from your lungs by another kiss. A droplet splashes onto your cheek. 

“You don’t ever do this to us again.” When your vision adjusts, your husband is there. “Do you understand me?”

You nod before you can think not to, before you can think that Feyd is not meant to be here, either. But if he is here, then why does he look so happy? Would he really rather the three of you be gone forever than to raise your baby without you? You scold your idiocy. Of course, he would. 

“You were out for three days,” he says. “Longest three days of my life.”

Out. Not dead. Not gone. 

Feyd helps you sit up. He disappears and then returns with a bundle of fabric. “Look,” he says, smiling, sniffling, and then smiling again. Two of his fingers gently nudge a section of the blanket aside to reveal a tiny face. Tiny nose, tiny lips, tiny eyes. Lashes that rest on tiny cheeks. A much smaller spitting image of your husband. “He’s got your eyes, I promise,” Feyd says, and your son proves it when his eyelids flutter open. 

“Do you think you’ve got the strength to hold him?”

You nod again. “Y-Yes,” you say, like it’s your first word. 

Feyd uncurls his arms from the baby and settles him into your awaiting ones. He’s lighter than you expected—probably to do with coming a little early—but the weight of him snaps the bits of you that were lagging behind in the unconscious world to the present. You gasp.

You’re alive. Your baby is alive. Your husband is here. They’re both beautiful. “I’m alive.”

Feyd sits back down in the chair that is pulled up to the side of your bed. He swallows. “Yes. Barely, for a moment, but…yes.”

You cuddle your baby to your chest and run your finger down his nose. He’s softer than the blanket that snuggles him. Soft like you rather than his father. He’ll grow strong like the man you can’t help loving, but he’ll have more heart, and that balance will make him a great Baron one day. A great man. 

“Do you hate me?” Feyd asks. “For what I did?”

Your head hurts and you still feel groggy, but you’re aware enough to know that you don’t hate him. You can’t hate him. It shocks you that he doesn’t know that, but then again, he’d never done anything like what he did before, and if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t know that he wouldn’t do it again should you fall pregnant with another child. You don’t trust him right now, and there’s only one thing that could ever convince you to attempt repairing that trust. 

“Do you love him?” you say as you gently rock your baby. 

Feyd glances down at your son. There’s no contemplation. “More than anything.”

“You’ll protect him?”

His eyes flick back up to yours. “With my life,” he says. And you believe him. 

You became a mother the second you felt that little life growing inside of you, but you can accept that upon looking at your son, spending time with him, your husband learned to become a father. Had you died, you don’t know what would have happened, but you can’t dwell on that and hope to keep your family together at the same time. He loves the child you made together, and that’s all you ever wanted. 

“Then, no,” you tell him. “I don’t hate you.”

[bunnyyyuu]

includes: f! reader, big brother choso, incest, implied size/age diff

choso is just the best brother ever — everyone knows that — especially to his littlest sister!!

he's just adored you your whole life. he's always thought you were the cutest girl in the whole world. you looked up to him like no other.

you'd always ask to have your hair like his when you were little, so he started doing it for you. he's so delicate with your tender scalp and he can read your body language so well. you're trying to be a big, strong girl and not to wince everytime his fingers twist your locks, but he can see the way your brows twitch. he doesn't point it, but he tries to be even more gentle after he notices. he even adds little frilly bows into your pigtails. now you're twinsies!

he doesn't mind when you sneak into his room in the middle of the night with a puffy face after a nightmare — a nightmare about the worst thing: choso not being around. he holds you up to his warm chest and whispers how it'll all be okay, how he's not going anywhere until you're snoring in his arms.

even as you get older, he just lets you sleep with him. no, no, it's not weird for a girl at your big age to cuddle up to her big brother every night — he's just protecting you from bad dreams, like a personal dreamcatcher.

he'll protect you from everything forever! the world is a big scary place, but he'll keep you safe forever.

especially from men.

choso doesn't necessarily mean to be so protective, but he can't how his blood boils when he overhears you whispering to yuuji about this guy you're "talking to". thats not acceptable. you're not old enough to be in a relationship, you're still choso's baby sister.

he holds you even tighter that night, his head on your shoulder. he says he needs to talk to you. you end up having to listen to a far too long lecture about how you're "not mature enough" or how "unsafe men are". you finally shut him up by loudly interrupting him as he starts blabbing about sex. he quiets with a huff and just lets you sleep.

he's just looking out for you, really. he knows that it's not right for anyone to have you yet or ever.

choso keeps a watchful eye on you after that, keeping you basically connected to his hip until you confess that you're not talking to that guy anymore. he praises you with a kiss on your forehead. even though he trusts you, he's needs to make sure you understand.

he's got you in his lap before bed, your cutesy pajama set barely covering your cute frame.

"choso-nii," you whine, "what'd you need to talk about? i know 'no boys', i already told you..."

he rubs up and down your back, dark eyes not meeting yours. "you haven't been with any guys, right?"

you puff out your flushing cheeks and mumble a small, "no..."

his lips perk up into just the faintest smile. "i'm glad." there's a small beat of silence before he speaks again. "you understand no guys are allowed to touch you?" he finally glances up at your pretty, pouty face

"yes, cho-nii," you fight back the urge to roll your eyes at how worried he is. it's just sex — why's he so pressed?

he traces his hand down your back to glide over your thigh, his big, big hands wrappimg around your leg. "you understand no guys are allowed to touch you here?" his fingers get dangerously close to your cunny, your breath getting stuck in your throat.

"y-yes," you mumble as your breathing grows laborious.

he ghosts one finger over your slit through your clothes. "never ever, okay?" he murmurs, eyes locked between your legs.

"choso — w-what're you doing?" you whisper.

he doesn't even look up at you when his hand slips under the hem of your pants. "'m gonna show you what other guys can't do to you."

[froggibus]

hiiiiiii i just wanna say i love ur work so much. i was wondering if i could request a jason todd hurt/comfort fic. i recently had a really scary experience outside of a bar, and it has been taking a toll on me. maybe something like reader and jason fight over something silly, and then something like that happens to reader and he comforts them after and feels bad about the fight before? with a lot of fluff and reassurance. maybe he gives them a bath or something:) THANK YOUUUU

Never Let Me Go - Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst -> fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: after an argument with Jason, you're left to fend for yourself outside of a bar

CW: attempted assault, attempted SA, chasing, slight violence, dissociation/shock (reader), arguing, alcohol, hurt/comfort, pet names (Jason calls reader baby/hun), bathing together, jason is snarky at first

sorry this took so long! really hope you're feeling better, but if you (or anyone else reading this) ever need to talk, my inbox is always open <3 i talk about my own struggles with ptsd on this blog, and i want everyone to be able to feel safe enough to talk about theirs, too

i tried to keep the assault scene short and brief, but i've also added cuts before and after in case anyone would like to skip it.

(title slightly based on this song)

“You know that stuff is pure sugar and no alcohol, right?” 

You roll your eyes when Jason gestures to your drink with a look of distaste, hiding his snark behind the rim of his glass. You’re tempted to remind him that the foamy beer he’s pounding back has even less alcohol than your Cosmo, but think the better of it. He’s in a bitchy mood, and there’s no point making it worse.

He’d gotten into a fight with Bruce the night before, and had practically gone on a rampage through Gotham’s underground. The anger radiated off of him still when he’d showed up at your apartment an hour earlier, even after he’d flashed you a tense smile and planted a tentative kiss to your lips.

You’d told him at least three times since then that he didn’t have to come with you—given the bar was around the corner from your home, and you could stumble home from it drunk, backwards and in your sleep—but Jason had insisted. As if you ever thought Jason would be able to relax knowing you’re out at a bar in the heart of Gotham, despite your assertions that you would only be having a couple drinks and maybe some chili fries.

You swish your glass around, watching the raspberry coloured booze slosh on the sides. “We can go home if you’re not feeling up to this,” you say gently. “I don’t mind.”

He gives his broad shoulders an irritating shrug. “You wanted to get out of the house, we’re out of the house.” 

Though he doesn’t say it, you can hear the unspoken words crackling through the air. What more do you want from me?

“But do you want to leave?”

Jason’s eyes narrow, black pupils forcing out imperial blue. “I go where you go.”

It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to resist tugging at your hair. Though it’s been years since he lived in Wayne Manor, and even longer since he studied under Bruce, the lessons he learned have never left him. Including this form of aggravating, diplomatic speech where his answers gave no answers at all.

“Whatever,” you sigh under your breath, crossing your legs and tilting your body back to your drink.

Jason scoffs, “whatever? Really?”

“Yes, really!” You’re grateful that the mix of conversations and the drone of 90s rock are loud enough to cover up your rising voice. “I just wanted to get out of the house for once and you’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean?” There’s a cruel smirk on his lips. “The only reason I’m here is because of you, so that you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I never asked for that.”

Your heart races painfully in your chest. You’ve never liked arguing, especially not in public when the both of you have been drinking and especially not when Jason is already chafing under the expectations of others. It’s a nightmarish combination that leaves electricity sizzling in the air and everyone in the room on edge.

He chugs the rest of his beer, not even bothering to wipe away the tiny bit of white foam that catches on the shadow above his upper lip. “Fine then,” he grumbles, and tosses a fifty onto the counter. “I’ll see you.”

He leaves no room for protest, already barreling his way through the tables. By the time you’ve even processed what just happened, he’s already at the door, back muscles tensing beneath brown leather as he yanks it open hard enough to shake the hinges.

You wait until you hear the familiar rev of his motorcycle before ordering another round.

It’s late by the time you decide to pay your tab and head home. Your phone has long since been dead weight in your pocket, but even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t have bothered to check it. There was a part of you that hoped Jason would come back, that he would apologize, but that part is about as dead as your phone is.

It’s brisk outside now, and cold rain sprinkles from above. The dark rain clouds block out the moon, dim flickering street lights the only light you can see. You take a long, deep breath that clouds the air as you release it, rubbing your freezing forearms. Home is just around the corner, but that’s still an eight minute walk. Minimum.

A groan slips past your lips as you lean against the outside of the building, peering into the dark streets for any sign of a cab. A rock skids across the ground to your left and you snap your head in the direction it came from.

A man saunters towards you, his body encased in shadows. “Need a ride?”

A shiver rises up your spine. You shuffle further to your right, trying to put more distance between you and the stranger. 

He doesn’t take the hint. He moves closer, purposefully slamming his boots harder into the ground to get your attention. “I said,” he repeats, “do you need a ride?”

“No,” you swallow hard, adding a quick, “thank you.”

You don’t know this man, but you despise him. You despise his imposition, the southern twang of his voice, the fact you’re instinctually polite to him so that you don’t risk pissing him off.

Despite your plea, he keeps coming towards you. “I reckon you do.”

The alarm bells in your head start to shriek. You shove off of the wall, stumbling only slightly before you regain your balance and take off down the sidewalk. It’s dark and though you can no longer see him when you glance over your shoulder, you can hear the pounding of his boots on the pavement behind you.

And then his cold, clammy hands lock around your wrist and tug you hard. You strain against his grasp, using your entire body weight to get away, to go anywhere but here.

He’s so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath, feel the warmth of his body. Not warm the way Jason is, but warm the way a fire you shouldn’t go near is. You cry out desperately. The bar is still within sight, someone has to come out, someone has to see.

“Why not just let me show you a good time?” He says, “I’m a really nice guy if you give me a chance.”

You drive your elbow into his arm and his grip loosens enough for you to tug away. You rip your wrist from his grasp, but as you do, you lose your balance and crash onto the dirty, wet Gotham pavement. With how cold you are and the adrenaline your heart is furiously pumping through your body, you barely feel the impact.

You can’t see the expression on his face as you drag yourself across the pavement, but you hear a low chuckle. You imagine it’s similar to that of a wolf zeroing in on its prey.

And then, a booming voice cuts through the darkness. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jason sounds pissed, but it's maybe the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. The most beautiful string of words in the English language.

The man spins on his heels away from you just in time to catch a harsh uppercut to the face. A loud crack reverberates through the buildings, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes on the concrete next to you.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at Jason through your lashes. “You’re—how?”

“Oh, baby. Baby, baby,” he sighs, dropping to his knees on the pavement next to you. His new jeans are probably ruined from touching the ground—as are yours—but that seems to be the least of his concerns right now.

He cradles your head in his lap, his hands trailing up your damp, aching skin for any sign of injury. You shiver, closing your eyes and letting Jason hold you. The adrenaline flooding your veins has not yet diluted, and the calloused warmth from Jason’s hands is the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“I didn’t leave, baby, would never leave you. I was waiting around back when I heard you and,” he sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

His words are faint, so faint, and more gentle than you’ve ever heard him speak. Though he clutches you tightly to him, the feeling registers as barely a whisper. And then you’re on your feet, propped up against his side as he helps you back to where he propped his bike.

Your mind is somewhere else now. You’d have completely forgotten about your own body if it weren’t for the frantic, rhythmic shove of Jason’s heart against his ribcage with every step you take.

You’re not sure how you got back to your apartment, but you’re sure it was through no small effort on Jason’s part. Your waist is warm from where his hand rests—he’s refused to let you go for even a moment since he saw you on that pavement. 

You shiver violently even after you return to the warmth of your home. Jason had wrapped you in his jacket but even that did little to stop the shaking. 

He cups your face, a soft intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

You barely react to his touch, or to his words. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re in shock—Jason’s seen it more than enough times in his lifetime to recognize it at a glance. 

The shivering, that faraway and glassy look in your eyes, the way your lips move as if they’ll form words but no sound comes out. Your pupils themselves have almost doubled in size from the adrenaline coursing through your system. 

He’d take the crowbar a thousand damn times if it meant he would never have to see you like this. He would give away all that he has, and all that he is, to never subject you to this kind of pain.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and starts towards the dark hallway leading to your bedroom and bathroom.

You let out a choked gasp—the most sound you’ve managed since earlier—and Jason whips around. Blue eyes snap to yours, looking more like broken glass through the tears catching on your own lashes. 

Don’t leave, you want to say. Not even for a minute, not even for a second. But your words fail you, and all you have to fall back on is a gasp of air and the tears in your eyes.

Jason understands, though. “Let’s go together, then.”

He grabs one of your hands in his, and holds your waist with the other. You walk like that down the hall, Jason holding you tight and guiding you to your bathroom. He helps you settle down on the toilet seat while he runs a hot bath.

Jason has you sit on the side of the bathtub, only your bare feet resting in the warm water. He sits with you, his legs on either side of your own and his arms around your waist. Already, the shaking has subsided and your eyes have started to clear. Relief floods his system, wiping away the guilt that’s been bubbling in his stomach.

He waits a few minutes, before saying, “let’s get you out of those clothes and into the bath.”

It’s posed more like a question, his fingers tracing inquisitive circles on your hip. He’s asking, you realize, if it would be okay for him to help you undress. If you’re comfortable being naked in front of him right now. The kindness of the gesture has your shoulders dropping from your ears.

“Y-yeah,” you manage.

Jason keeps his touch firm, steady, while he peels your dirty shirt over your head. He has you raise your feet above the water so he can help you with your pants and underwear, discarding your clothes in a pile on the tiled floor. 

He squeezes your shoulders reassuringly when he sees you hesitate at the side of the bathtub before finally stepping in and letting your aching body settle in the warm water. 

It’s an immediate relief. The chill your skin has taken on, the ice running through your blood, starts to defrost. 

Jason watches you relax into the warm porcelain, your impossibly tense muscles finally loosening. “Feeling any better?” He asks quietly.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble quietly.

He grabs a washcloth from the drawer beneath the counter. “Hey, none of that.”

“I just,” you take a deep, shaking breath, “if we had never gone out tonight, none of this would have happened and you wouldn’t have had to help me and—”

Jason splashes warm water over your head. “None of that,” he repeats. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”

“But—”

“Nothing that happened tonight was any fault of yours.” He brushes the wet washcloth across your face, wiping away stray tears. “You did nothing wrong. I should never have left you, plain and simple.”

“It’s not your fault either, Jay.”

He strokes the washcloth over your forehead. “I’m supposed to protect you, hun. I didn’t do a very good job of it tonight.”

“Get in here with me?” You clutch his forearm.

He chuckles. It’s been a very, very long time since Jason Todd could comfortably fit in a normal sized bathtub, but for you, he’d do anything. He’s  gentle climbing in the bath behind you, propping his legs around the outside of yours so you can comfortably lay back on him.

It’s a cramped fit, it couldn’t possibly be comfortable for anyone—but Jason sucks it up for your sake. Despite the ways his knees ache from the angle he keeps his legs, it all feels worth it when you lay your head on his chest.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly.

He plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “For you? Anything.”

And you know he means it.

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[themultifanshipper]

hi babes

can i request some angsty/fluffy fic with oscar and pregnant reader, where she's feeling a little down and overwhelmed with how changed is her body (like with her size or stretch marks, idk) and oscar recomforts her, saying that she's beautiful and she's doing so well..

thankyou, i love your works sm<33

Warnings: light angst, Oscar being a lil clumsy but sweet, fluff that quickly goes into smutty territory :3 (no actual smut scene though)

Also quick psa, it's very common to get depression during and after pregnancy. It's a very real disease that millions of women battle with. If you feel like you have symptoms of any description, don't keep them to yourself, talk to someone you trust about it and seek help, stay safe out there my dudes <3

This weekend had been rough for you.

Apart from all the obvious pregnancy symptoms like morning sickness, which had been really kicking your ass for the past few weeks, it was the other things that were starting to get you down.

Your body had changed, and it felt alien to you. Like it wasn't even your own anymore.

You'd spent hours staring at the stretch marks that covered your stomach, wondering if they would ever fade.

The weight you'd put on made your thighs look massive, and you could already see the signs of your breasts almost doubling in size.

You felt huge, to put it simply.

And your self confidence was in the gutter.

You'd been ignoring Oscar's worried calls and messages while he was away at the Grand Prix, choosing to turn your phone off altogether and wallow in self deprecation.

Oscar was supposed to be getting a jet back on monday night, but he was so worried about you he bought a last minute flight right after the race, to get home to you as fast as he could.

He opened the door to your shared apartment, keys jingling as his hand trembled in his hold.

“Sweetheart?” He called out, once he was finally inside.

There was no answer.

He noticed a faint light coming from the corridor, and he followed it only to realise you had left a lamp on in the bedroom and fallen asleep with the latest book you were reading still in your hand.

He melted at the sight, putting the book on the nightstand (after putting a bookmark in it, he's not a savage) and turned the lamp off before stripping and getting into bed with you, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you like that, his breathing synchronised with yours until he fell asleep, exhausted from his long day of racing and travelling.

What he didn't know, was that you had been pretending to sleep. You weren't ready to talk to him about what was troubling you because you knew it was stupid and he probably wouldn't take you seriously…

The next morning Oscar woke with a start. The other side of the bed was empty which was odd, you never usually woke up this early and you always cuddled up to him in the morning, putting your perpetually cold feet against his skin to warm them up.

He listened for any activity in the apartment, the coffee machine, the tv… but not a single noise could be heard.

He slid out of bed and went looking for you.

It didn't take long to find you, curled up on the sofa, blanketless and shivering in your sleep.

Oscar whined quietly to himself, what on earth was up with you?

He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and rocked you awake.

“Baby it's 5 in the morning what are you doing on the couch? Come back to bed with me”

You just curled up tighter and hid your face from him. “No it's okay Osc I'm fine here”

He put an arm around you, trying to get you to sit up.

“You're obviously not babe, you're shaking with the cold, let's go cuddle up in bed under the-”

“Oscar I said I'm fine just leave me here!” You protested, wriggling out of his grasp.

“Don't be ridiculous you're freezing out here come on”

“Fuck off! I said I'm fine!” you snapped, and Oscar would have believed you if it weren’t for the way you're voice cracked and a tear rolled down your cheek.

He was so shocked at your outburst he froze, not quite knowing what to say as he noticed how pale you looked and how red rimmed your eyes were.

“Baby…” he put a comforting hand on your hip but you flinched away “Babe what-”

“It's nothing” you said, slightly softer, wiping your tears with the obviously already very damp sleeves of your pyjamas. “It's just the morning sickness and stuff has been really bad and I didn't want to wake you”

Oscar was entirely unconvinced but he didn't push.

“Alright, come to bed with me then, we need to get you warmed up”

You nodded, indeed feeling very cold at the moment and you let him steer you back to your bedroom.

Once you were back in bed with him, he snuggled up behind you and pulled you across the distance you had tried to put between the two of you.

“I love you” he whispered, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin.

You didn't reply, and your body was so tense it was a miracle you hadn't pulled a muscle.

After a few seconds a quiet sob wracked your frame and Oscar tightened his hold on you.

“Baby please, tell me what's wrong.” Oscar pleaded.

You sniffled and tried to get your breathing straightened out before answering.

“I just… I don't like how my body’s just- what if it doesn't- I don't want-” your breaths were coming in short as you started getting choked up again.

“Baby slow down. Deep breaths now”

You took a deep breath in.

“I’m scared”

Oscar blinked at the back of your head.

“Of what?”

You sighed.

“That my body is ruined, and that it will never be how it was before… and that you won't like it anymore”

Now that you were saying it out loud, it sounded stupid even to you, but the fear and insecurity was clawing at your insides harder than ever.

“Baby your body is changing for the better, trust me. You're making a baby inside you, that's bound to make some changes. But I love you even more because of them. I love that inside your belly there's a little human that is the result of how much I fucking love you. And I'm going to be with you every step of the way.”

You heaved in a breath “I just- I didn't know it would be this hard…”

He kissed your cheek and stroked your belly under the blanket. “I’m so sorry if I've done anything to make you think I wouldn't love your body no matter what. Your body isn't ruined, baby. You have no idea how much it drives me insane to think of you waddling around our apartment, belly full with my kid”

You turned around to face him with fresh tears in your eyes.

“I want you.” He smiled softly “I want you so fucking much you have no idea.” He kissed your forehead sweetly before pulling you into his arms, adding “I’ll always want you baby, nothing will ever change that”.

You breathed in his comforting scent as you melted into his arms.

“And if you don't believe me…”

He pressed closer to you and you felt him, half hard against your hip.

“… let me prove it to you”

One of his hands trailed down to where your ass filled out your shorts a bit more than it used to.

“This body…”

He kissed your neck, then lowered himself down to your where your nipples were visible through the material of your thin sleep shirt.

“... is a masterpiece…”

He kissed lower and lower until he got to the waistband of your shorts

“ and it's all. Fucking. Mine.”

He growled as he dipped his hand under the material and felt the wetness already gathering.

“Jesus fuck” he groaned “you're so perfect, so good for me”

You raised your hips so he could slide them off you and spread your legs, licking his lips at the sight of you in front of him, full hips and thick thighs on display for him.

Not to mention your growing belly peeking out from under your shirt.

His eyes went from brown to black at an alarming pace as he slowly lowered himself and looked up at you with a devilish smirk.

“You ready?” he purred, voice deepened by arousal.

You were on the verge of crying again, feeling so overwhelmed by the attention Oscar was giving you, but you swallowed the feeling down in favour of sliding a hand through his hair.

You tightened your grip, pulling at the roots slightly and he shivered, his eyes closing in pleasure. He let out the tiniest whimper when you did it again.

When his eyes met yours again after a few moments of him composing himself, you smiled down at him.

“Get to work”

[lo1k-diamonds]

Be as it must 💜 Part 1

“They think omegas are extinct, but that doesn’t stop them from looking.”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: It’s hard being an omega in a world where they've all but disappeared, but you're safe as long as you stay under the radar. You might be risking it a little bit by working for the Jeon Family, an alpha ruling family, but they have no idea about you. What happens when you're found and taken to your boss, CEO Jeon Jungkook?

WORD COUNT: 3.7 k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: anxiety, kidnapping, tension, mentions of abuse

A.N. Alright, let's get this party on the road 💜 There are so many Easter eggs and details in this part to kickoff things with the right foot 👀 A huge thank you to @moonleeai for helping me with every little detail, which I appreciate so much!! 🥰

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | Next Chapter >

“Good morning. I'd like ube bubble tea, please.”

“Name?”

You smiled, giving the barista your nickname instead before paying and moving away to wait. 

It was not yet past 9 AM, but you couldn’t help grabbing your work phone and activating the mobile data. Even though you'd be in the office in ten minutes, it couldn't hurt to already have an idea of what awaited you.

There was no surprise with the amount of notifications popping up; so many so fast, the expensive device froze for a second. You smirked as you reviewed the messages sent through the office’s private chats, then scrunched up your nose at a few more serious emails. But as you dismissed one notification after the other, taking mental notes of what you should do first, one message made you topple all over yourself when you thumbed it away.

What was that?

CEO Jeon Jungkook is expecting you for a one-on-one call at 9:30 AM.

Your eyes widened impossibly, your perfectly manicured nails carding through your long hair for a moment. What did you just read?!

You opened a private chat with your team director, and your mentor, Yoon Minsik, and sent him a screenshot of the text message.

You scoffed in disbelief; you couldn’t believe this was on the table again. Still, what was baffling was that the CEO himself wanted to talk to you about it. It was so ludicrous; it was nonsensical.

You started typing furiously to tell your mentor that he should have handled your rejections to move away with more grace when someone called your nickname for what sounded like the hundredth time.

You turned around on your high heels, your perfectly styled hair falling in long dark waves behind your shoulder over a white silk blazer. The barista staggered, looking at you above her eyeglasses with parted lips, before she blinked and hurried to bow and extend your ube bubble tea.

You were about to smile and thank her for her service when she tripped and lounged forward, scaring you into instinctively grabbing her forearm to keep her steady. Fortunately, she was smaller than you, and since the drink was closed, your white suit was purple-stain free.

Still, the barista fell apart in apologies and bows that left you baffled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. No harm done, see?” You wished the people around you would stop staring and making her feel bad; it made the air too pungent for your sensitive nose. She reminded you of a younger you, going through part-time jobs to push you through law school. “Thank you for your kindness.”

You made sure to bow and smile at her properly to put her at ease before heading to your office with a rushed pace. You couldn’t risk being late, even if you already knew your answer to the CEO’s proposal.

The expansion of the Jeon conglomerate into Seoul was but a small reflection of the success the company was finding overseas. It made it impossible not to expand to the capital and, naturally, most of the executive and legal teams followed.

Only you had said no at the time, and again just yesterday, when your mentor brought it up again. He should have known better than to go directly to the CEO about something like this. You had no special rapport with the CEO; you were just part of the team that handled multiple international agreements, and you represented the company whenever necessary. You had been told the CEO resented not having his top legal representative more “at hand”, but you doubted he was even aware of your existence. Your work gave prestige to the Busan branch, and you were proud of it. You had even suggested training someone to take functions similar to yours in Seoul. That was still your answer — you’d help out in any way, but there was nothing that could convince you to go to Seoul.

You admitted you never thought you’d sway on that decision, not in a million years. But you had also never imagined someone like CEO Jeon Jungkook, and just looking at him, you thought you could be convinced. When you entered the video call with him, you were expecting a short five-minute call in which anything could happen, from a dismissive “I thought I’d give it a shot”, to “You either do it or you’re fired.” You were ready for both, as adamant as you were about your position. Yet, neither happened.

He entered the call despite clearly needing time to finish a conversation with someone in the room, so you observed him while they talked on mute. His shoulders were wide, framed by a dark blazer that made him look the size of the world. His eyes were dark, introducing a harshness with his eyebrows as he debated something he clearly disagreed on with his interlocutor. His dark hair reached his eyes, falling on what you realized were soft features. CEO Jeon Jungkook was incredibly good-looking, making the blood rush to your cheeks in an instant. 

You swallowed and tried looking away, grabbing a notebook and a pen just in case you needed to take notes. Unfortunately, it didn’t give you much reprieve; your eyes found their way to his neck, thick with a prominent Adam’s apple. As he craned his head to look at something behind the camera, your eyes trailed happily down his throat to his collar bone, where a couple of open buttons revealed perfectly bronzed skin—

You cleared your voice and started scribbling the date on the notebook; anything to keep you from staring. It didn’t last long; a deep voice invaded your ears through your AirPods, “I apologize for the delay. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

Your mind blanked as you stared at the screen with currents of warm, ticklish electricity running down your spine. 

That was his voice. You could barely pay attention to what he was saying, which was so exceptional, it was unthinkable. His looks weren’t the issue; your whole body was trying to pinpoint something, and not necessarily his figure. It was as though you were a radio, turning the knob to fine-tune the right frequency. One you knew was yours to attune to, you just needed a bit more—

“So I wanted your opinion on the matter quickly before we meet in twenty minutes.”

You straightened your shoulders, and nodded, shaking those thoughts away. Your boss had a work-related request, and you obliged immediately.

While you resumed the current status of the agreement with an American company looking to use Jeon facilities to carry out research and development of a few products the Jeon conglomerate wanted priority access to, CEO Jeon Jungkook listened intently. You were used to talking and being met with skepticism or even indifference, especially by older stakeholders, who didn’t always respect a young woman in such a pivotal role in your department. Yet, the CEO was listening to you with utmost seriousness, as if every word out of your mouth was worth his time and attention.

Because it was; he hadn't achieved his current level of success at such a young age without being highly skilled and intelligent, just like you. You gave him the run-down of the situation and brainstormed with him possibilities that could be included in the agreement with ease. It was frankly refreshing; not too often, you had to waste time reminding board members of concrete information, boundaries, and laws that they should be aware of. Jeon Jungkook wasn’t there to waste your time or to scoff at your input; he was there to obtain advice on the best course of action, and it tranquilized you.

It impressed you, also. For someone only two years younger than you, he was phenomenal. Though, you didn’t forget what he was. You wondered if the reason why you couldn’t take your eyes off him and nearly stopped breathing to hear him attentively was because he was an alpha. You could only guess; to your knowledge, no one at the company knew of him or the Jeon family, and you had no way of knowing if you should feel any type of way about him.

According to your mother, you should. When you first started working for the Jeon conglomerate, she had almost lost her mind, wailing about the sacrifices your ancestors made to keep your family safe, only for you to work right under one of the Families. At the time, you knew better than to scoff at her; after all, you had already presented. It was a hard period for you, having grown up with stories the world told you were make-belief, only to turn eighteen and suddenly feel unexplainable things. The worst was that your sense of smell had evolved, picking up on the faintest scent. If humans could make the air change so quickly based on their emotions, you could only imagine how an alpha could influence a whole room, especially for you.

In the end, your mother had to admit that the Jeon family was too prestigious and far away to ever come into contact with you. That meant that Jeon Jungkook had never met you until now, despite your extensive work at his company. You were the middle person, the worker behind the scenes, writing the proposals, discussing, and bringing things to life. Yoon Minsik or other Seoul-based lawyers would be the ones to appear at formal events when things were done, which you didn’t mind as long as you stayed in Busan. Safe.

So Jeon Jungkook had no idea about you.

Still, he sighed when you finished talking and leaned on his right side as he seemed to debate something with himself. “I must confess Yoon Minsik didn’t do you justice.”

“I’m sorry?”

You blinked, caught off guard. He had a meeting in five minutes; you were expecting him to say his farewells.

“I knew the Busan team was holding someone exceptional, but Yoon Minsik should have warned me sooner. No one in this office can synthesize, analyze, and keep a high level of scrutiny like you just did on such short notice and in so little time. Not with me, at least.”

You didn’t answer, opting for a silent moment to process what he just said. It was surely praise, but you were not about to belittle your Seoul colleagues by agreeing. You also didn’t want to sell yourself; you were happy where you were. Finally, you had to stop your chest from swelling with pride. CEO Jeon Jungkook was telling you in so many words that you matched him skillswise, which was incredibly validating. He was also incredible, if you could say so yourself.

He glanced at the edge of the screen, then leaned forward, “Your talents are wasted in the Busan office. Come work with me in Seoul.”

Your cheeks blushed furiously as your body overreacted to his request. Fortunately, your makeup was perfect that morning, and so you could trust he had no clue how much he affected you.

“I’m undoubtedly flattered by your incredible remarks and for such an amazing opportunity, but I must politely decline.”

Your answer was automatic, even though your eyes watered, and your voice didn’t hide a tinge of emotion. You were touched by the proposition, by the whole ordeal, really. But nothing could change your mind.

He pursed his lips, “Is there something about this office you dislike? Something you’d like to request? I’m listening.”

Your heart raced in your chest and you swallowed. Your mind whipped out an impossible thought while you glanced at the clock — 9:58 AM. When you looked back at him, you were almost shocked; he was at ease, just looking at you. As though he didn’t have another meeting in two minutes. As though you weren’t a replaceable piece in the system. As though he actually was willing to stay there with you and negotiate the conditions that would change your mind and bring you to his side.

You swallowed dryly again, “The office is great; like I said, it’s an amazing opportunity. I just don’t wish to be uprooted.”

A few seconds ticked by in silence while you waited for those soft features to twist into petulance or anger at the rejection.

But then his lips pulled in a crooked smile, and you just knew he was amused, maybe even impressed by your resilience. 

“It’s a shame, and an incredible loss for this office. But I don’t plan on doing without you from here on out. Thank you for your time, talk soon.”

He bowed, and you hurried to do the same through your bewilderment, and in seconds the call was cut. You were left breathless and a little stupefied by CEO Jeon Jungkook.

You weren’t sure how to feel about today.

As you shut the front door of your apartment with your heart in your throat and disheveled hair from running, you leaned your back on it as if your weight could stop whoever was chasing you from breaking it down.

Your first instinct was to push the camera button to see outside your apartment and of your apartment building, but it was all normal and quiet. Slowly, your heart calmed as you stared endlessly into such a peaceful and unmoving image, you wondered if it had been hacked to play on a loop.

But then you scoffed and reasoned with yourself; that’s just an exaggeration. This whole thing was. This whole day was. 

First, the CEO of your conglomerate all but interviewed you and tried to negotiate you changing offices to Seoul. Just that implausibility could have made that day already sound bonkers.

But then, because you had taken the metro that day, you had to walk a bit home, and you were almost snatched.

You swallowed, getting your heels off. That was exactly what it was — a car had stopped next to you on the street and two men had tried to grab you and push you inside. They must have been coordinated, because the men were following behind you, and the car knew exactly when and where to stop. Still, the nearing car alerted you, so as soon as you felt someone behind you, you were ready to fight. You struggled and managed to slip through their fingers, instantly running to a very busy street nearby. You knew no one would help you even if they saw it, but you were hoping it would deter them at least.

You ran straight home; you hoped they didn’t follow you.

You went all the way to your fridge, grabbed a soju bottle in your shaky hands, then turned on the TV to create background noise. You were nervous, trembling, and you needed normalcy to calm down. The familiar sound of a journalist reporting the news allowed you to down half a bottle in a go before heaving a long sigh straight from your soul. 

Abductions weren’t common, but men or cults were known for unorthodox methods like those. You tried to shrug it off as being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it wasn’t enough. The news wasn’t enough, either. So you grabbed your phone and called your mother.

“Hi, my butterfly. How’s my precious daughter?”

She instantly started going on about what she was doing and her day, and you finally closed your eyes with a sense of normalcy. You managed to switch clothes while she talked, then went over the small and less impactful moments of your day for obvious reasons — the Jeon alpha and the almost abduction situations would just worry her terribly.

But then the TV reporter started speaking on a piece about a series of attacks targeting women in Busan, and you reached for the remote to increase the volume. Your mother kept talking, none the wiser, while you listened to the piece and noticed the similarities to what happened to you: men followed them on the street, shoved them into a car, asked a bunch of questions, touched them inappropriately, and then let them go.

Your mind was going over the motive of such a weird event when your breath caught. On the screen, the interview of one of the victims shocked you — it was the barista from this morning, eyeglasses and all.

Your alarms went off. “Mom…” you interrupted. “I need to tell you something.”

You started by commenting on what the reporter was saying, talking about the events happening locally, and your mother scoffed bitterly, “I told you not to move to the city.”

“It’s just Busan,” you argued, tired of that same old discussion.

“Even Busan is too big! Big cities are hunting grounds for—”

“Do you think that’s what this is?” You asked more sternly, wanting her opinion without freaking her out.

“Yes,” she sighed, knowing her daughter was dismissive of the subject. “It sounds like they’re scenting people.”

“What?”

“Hunting for omegas.”

You bit your lip for a second, still hesitating, “And why do you think that is, all of a sudden?”

She hummed, “They think omegas are extinct, but that doesn’t stop them from looking.”

You sighed with exasperation; this was serious, “You think they’re hunting ghosts and risking lawsuits?”

“These Families don’t need to worry about petty things like lawsuits! You should know that!”

You groaned, rubbing your face. You had misstepped and given her even more reasons to be agitated, and she didn’t know the half of it yet.

“An omega is a powerful tool to exert control. Remember the legends? Seven great Families once controlled the nation—”

“Yeah, yeah, omegas disappeared and now there are only four families,” you wrapped up dismissively. You didn’t care about snobs or hierarchies, not even in what concerned your disconcerting CEO. You cared where that left you.

“Whether you want to bury your head in the sand or not, it’s still very much true. The four Families have four unmated alphas, it’s a wonder they didn’t start searching sooner.”

“You think this is them?” you probed, biting down your nail.

“Or someone who knows how valuable such a person can be.”

You scoffed, “How would they even know who is an omega?”

“Some are trained to pick up the rarest of scents. Don’t forget how invaluable—”

“Right, right,” you dismissed, hiding your eyes from the TV and the world. You could still see the barista giving her testimony to the journalist; there was no dismissing it anymore. Your mother was making too much sense, paranoia be damned.

“Whatever Family gets their hands on one will get the upper hand.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you burst in a low hiss, angry at the world. You were not a tool or bargaining chip.

“You say that because you don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like to be in a room full of alphas, the power that—”

“Nor do I want to,” you grumbled. “Do I have a reason to worry?”

Your mother’s tone was surprisingly calm, “No, I don’t think so. Our family is not in the registry, they have no way of tracking you down. Why?”

You went over the episode briefly so as not to shock her too much, though to no avail. “Mom…” you tried, but she didn’t stop her litany of I told you so. “There’s something else.”

You had to tell her about the barista because to you, that was the nail in the coffin. You were pragmatic and knew the law; regardless of the Families’ standing, you didn’t believe they were above it. Maybe they did hunt for omegas in order to gain advantage over each other, you couldn’t be certain. Realistically, alleging such things would get you nowhere, and you were living under the radar, staying away from the capital where most betas and alphas migrated decades ago. But the barista changed everything. Because you went to that café almost every day and this time, you had touched her. You could have left your scent behind.

It was just too much of a coincidence that the two things happened the same day.

“You need to leave.”

Your mom’s tone dropped, hinting at an incontestable seriousness. You still tried, “You said I’m not in the registry.”

“Yes, but we can’t risk it!”

You groaned, “What the hell will they do? Kidnap me?”

“Yes!” You pursed your lips this time. “You’ll be seen as a tool! And we don’t have the means to protect you!”

You rubbed your eyes but agreed, “I… I think I can go to Seoul for a while. For work. I know,” you continued, with a hint of frustration. “It’s the worst place to go, but I have my life, my work. I can't just disappear. Maybe if I leave for a week or so, it will be enough to throw them off.”

Your mother wasn’t convinced, but she was reasonable — you could leave tomorrow and ask for vacation as soon as possible to maybe travel and lay low for a while.

It was nerve-wracking, but you were willing to do anything to stay safe and hidden. To stay autonomous and live freely, to not be used as leverage in power games that deemed you a worthless pawn. You just wanted to live your life, regardless of your blood or status.

You had a plan, so after booking a flight and a hotel room, and messaging your mentor about the sudden change of plans, you were able to sleep a few hours. Because you wanted to work the next day, you had an early flight that allowed you to arrive and get ready before starting within normal working hours.

That was how you left, waiting for a taxi in front of your building when the sun wasn't even up. And that was how you were shoved inside a car when you were distracted, and finally taken.

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 26﹕✦﹕┈・୧

-> Event Masterlist

Yandere Itachi Uchiha x F!Reader -> Breeding

Warnings: Dub!con, yandere themes, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of baby trapping, Stockholm syndrome, manipulative Itachi, pregnancy of breeding!kink. Itachi is still soft because yeah >\\< and fluffy if you squint

It's the ridiculously delectable way, her doe-eyed self cowers down beneath him whenever she loomed in his presence. He adores her, watching her fidget every time Itachi says something, every time he glances at her unmomentarily. She is akin to a deer, and Itachi- a lion, a ruthless, sadistic lion wanting nothing more but to tame his prey, but no- he doesn't just want to prey on her, he wants to love her. He wants her to love him, to subdue everything she can for him.

It's the way he always excuses his behavior with the sentence that chains her neck, boiling down her very core. "It's all to protect you, to keep you safe." When he addresses her as an 'Angel' she loses a little faith in god, because no angel's wings should be pinned down as hers, the way Itachi does it.

No, he does not hurt her, but he does make sure she doesn't hurt herself, sometimes confinement and solitude is the most amicable way to stem down the essence of a punishment and a lesson. Treason, if you will.

He still feels insanity grip the very nerves of his self when she approaches him, slouching as if she'd break if she stood tall. He would break her for standing tall & sniveling at him to let her go. "Hmm, maybe bestowing you with some responsibility will help, you've become quite air-headed, dear Y/N."

Oh, it desolates his perfect, controlled mind when he imagines her tiny self inflated with his seed, having trouble pacing around, needing Itachi with every little beck and call, the vulnerability which will come with her last semester, how she will struggle to hold her urine when the little Uchiha would kick and eagerly wait to see Mother and Father... how adoring.

It starts slow, after months of living together with Itachi, she knows how to read him, how Itachi's eyes glint towards the impending, she wouldn't be unjust, Itachi treats her kindly when he demands something, especially when it needs his fragile, male ego stroked and petted.

So she complies, as he spreads her apart naked, pupils visibly dilated as his gaze turns tender, more subtle. As if she'd break under him, a vile part of him wants to break her instantly. Itachi is a paradox, after all. "It's okay, my angelic little thing." You're doing so well for me. His luscious, long hair tickles her tender breasts as Itachi leans in, kissing her neck, scraping at the sensitive, irritated skin & deviously marking her up. "Oh no, don't cry, I'm going to be gentler." He dotes on her being a sensitive crybaby, can't handle his length, can't handle him.

Oh but the little being Itachi owns, is ferocious on her own, knowing most ardently she has him in her grip, "Wa-ant to go out after this." She manages to barely choke out when Itachi's member ravishes her cunt, thrusting, rutting his hips inside, churning them up to his shape. Itachi couldn't say no to that face, the future mother of his kids. "Anything... Angel."

"Will you let me fill you up?" Itachi asks though she doesn't have any choice but to, Itachi is a master, a sorcerer of illusions and to earn her goodness, to pretend she owns the decision of freedom, ever so fleeting choices that are nothing but a mirage; Itachi loves that.

She nods, biting her lip like an anxious child, the background thoughts all super setting the imagery of her being pregnant, she's too far gone now though. Stockholm Syndrome hugs her every night along with the slender arms of her lover. She wants to please him, simultaneously hating herself for the same as she nods, feeling the thrusts slow down, sloppy and then the warmth of his seed deep inside her gummy walls.

"Nothing, Angel, without you... I'm nothing."

[elllisaaa]

sorry i just read you’re request rules😭 Heyyy i was wondering if you could do bf thoughts with dino or vernon🫶

hii ! no problem, here is the dino version and you can find the vernon one right here ! hope you'll enjoy it !

BF!CHAN who's so whipped, heart eyes everytime you enter the room or talk to him, ready to drop everything for you.

chan is definitely one of those clingy boyfriends. no matter the time or location, he needs to touch you but mostly, he needs you to touch him to feel alright. you're literally his safe space, so when he feels anxious or that he needs some reassurance, he will grab your hand and not let it go or rest his head on his shoulders. and chan gets even clingier when he's tired - though you don't really complain because he's very cute when he's pouting and asking for your attention. you and him cuddle every night without any exceptions, he literally needs it to sleep well. and even if he wants to be dependable and reliable to you, he actually loves to be the little spoon. for sure, he also adores holding you in his arms, but the best part of his day is when you hold him at night and that you run your hands through his hair. he also loves to fall asleep while laying on your chest, your heartbeat soothing every one of his worries. chan won't admit this before a loooong time, but once he does, he gets to be the little spoon even more so he doesn't regret it - he just needs to be loved as much as he loves.

"can you play with my hair too ? i love when you do that baby, it's so relaxing."

love languages are acts of service, physical touch and words of affirmation. talking about the first, he's often bringing you breakfast in bed when he has some days off, claiming it's for all the nights you stay up waiting for him to come home. he cooks everything by himself and spoils you before returning under the covers with you. he actually loves lazy morning where he can just spend an hour or two in bed with you, quietly talking and admiring your pretty face. talking about the second, chan absolutely needs a welcome home kiss when he gets home, and a goodbye kiss when he leaves - it's really important and he would be kind of upset if he doesn't get his kisses. talking about the third, he's saying "i love you" so much you think it's his most used words at this point. he confesses his love all the time, even when you look like a dead rat and just woke up, or when you're doing nothing particular - chan just feels the need to remind you of how down bad for you he is. and when you look him in the eyes to say it back, he melts inside because this man needs to be cherished too.

"i love you y/n." - "i'm just bringing you a cup of water, baby !" - "it takes nothing away from the fact that i love you. - "i love you too channie. so much."

chan giggles and blushes so easily around you, even if you've been together for a long time. anytime you're praising him about his looks, his dance skills or just something he does randomly, he gets so shy. but it's so cute, and you adore to kiss his red cheeks right after and hear him stutter over his words just like during your first date. he loves to do couple trends with you on tiktok. he obviously can't post them, but it's okay because you and him know he has these videos and he can brag to his members about how pretty his girlfriend is. the only downside is that he can't show off how lucky he is to have you. but he does find ways to signal to everyone that you're his, and that goes with his obsession for matching outfits. he definitely got the two of you matching pajamas and outfits, and when you go out, he always takes care of matching with your outfit. even on the days he cannot be with you, he always asks for a pic of your outfit so he can match with you. chan will also borrow some of your hair ties or accessories to keep with him so it's like you're actually here, especially when he goes away for extended periods of time. by the way, you expect a call from him everyday when he's not there because he misses you too much.

"i'm really happy to get to see so many carats but i can't wait to go home to you, i miss you too much… next time, i'm putting you in my luggage."

BF!CHAN who's passionate and intense, his sex drive always increases when he's near you because you're just too attractive.

just like he needs your hands on you at all times, he loves it when you put some kind of ownership on him. chan is proud to be yours, and he wants to show it off. so whenever you mark him, he's going crazy. you could suck hickeys on his neck, scratch his back with your nails or bite his shoulders and he would literally moan like a slut. the best part is that he doesn't even try to hide these marks, instead purposely putting on clothes that show them off, even if he gets teased by his members. also, if you leave lipstick stains on any part of his body - especially his cock after having sucked him off - he will take pictures of it. chan marks you too of course, but he prefers when you're the one doing it. if you catch him in a day he's particularly tired and sensitive, he reacts even more to your touches and you could bring him to cum just by kissing, licking and sucking on his neck. his moans are so loud every time you decide to mark him, eyes closed and feeling dizzy from having a beautiful girl like you all over him

"make me your baby, please, i want your marks all over me."

okay this one might be a little controversial but i think that he loves it when you wear heels. chan is definitely the type of boyfriend to get down on his knees and help you put on and take off your heels on date nights, going as far as putting your legs on his lap to massage your sore feets, your little noises of appreciation driving him mad. his fav is when you press down your heel against his crotch, getting him hard even in public sometimes, it gets him off so quickly. that goes with the fact that he's obsessed with you and your body. you're literally a goddess in his eyes and he makes sure to worship you everytime he gets a glimpse of you. i'm convinced that he gets pussy drunk very easily, losing himself quickly in the taste of your juices when he's eating you out. when he's inside of you, he's very vocal about how good you make him feel and chan goes crazy whenever you're squeezing around him.

"f-fuck ! you feel so fucking good, so wet and tight baby…"

sex with chan is messy - there's slick, cum, saliva, sweat and tears everywhere once the both of you are done. so obviously, the sheets have to be changed and showers after you've fucked is necessary. it's something he loves because it's intimate and he feels close to you, but it often leads to a round two in the shower. seeing you naked and getting to wash your body gets him going all over again. the hot water falling on the two of you and the slow, lazy thrusts heightening all his and your senses. also, he loves fucking in the bath. when he gets home from long days at practice and that you had run a bath for him, it already makes him fall more in love with you. so having you sitting behind him, one hand stroking his cock up and down, lips sucking on his neck and running your other hand through his hair to help him relax - it's truly one of the best feelings ever.

"feels good channie ?" - "mh.. so good, don't stop."

[shuenkio]

Hide And Seek | Yjw. ❤️‍🔥 [From request]

Paring: Jungwon x male!reader

Genre: Smut 18+ [don't like don't press]

Cw: pure explicit, mentioned of dicks, protect sex, first time jw & reader, cum, rough sex etc.

Summary: Whoever loses, will pay the price.

Non proof read / wc: 1.1k

Eng is not my 1st lang.

A/N: Still working on how to write SMAU and again, I wrote this at night rn so mistake could appear, sorry at advance.

You lose a bet to your not-so-innocent boyfriend, Jungwon. which you promise to do anything as he told you since most of the time you're always winning and you make him do silly kinds of stuff, such as meowing, wearing cat ears and aegyo. Jungwon said he no longer likes doing cute stuff anymore, he wants to be more mature however he's willing to do those just for you when you win the game back then but for now he's changed just like he said, mature.

Instead of giving you a hard time doing as he demands, Jungwon just told you to play hide and seek with him, and those who lose this time will pay the consequences, a very good one. You chuckle, after hearing those. Overconfident that you'd win against him once again as you're so good at hiding but all that joy died down once he unannounced the last words.

"If I catch you, I'm going to fuck you m/n," Jungwon said, slightly rise his lip as in a dark expression. Giving you another reason that he's not joking this time, he's being serious and he might do just like he said, fuck you.

You swallow hard, low-key scared at your Boyfriend's sudden black aura however you still want to challenge him, to make the game fair.

"Cool, I'll let you have me for the very first time after dating for years, I'm challenging my love~"

"Oh hoo- very brave of you m/n I already had my plan I'll find you my gummies"

That was the last word you heard from him. You're now hiding in the most obvious place ever, a closet but you know you did a very good job, of blending in with all those clothes and you also know, Jungwon rarely opens the closet... In the storage room.

The apple didn't fall far from its apple tree, suddenly Jungwon opened the closet with his extended into two as his playful smile yet satisfied appeared on his face.

"Catch ya~ m/n!"

The next thing you know, both of you two are exposed to each other. Jungwon's cock is standing in all glory despite how small he is you had seen his figure when he has his clothes on. Clothes manipulation it's real. You thought your boyfriend's size wouldn't be that big, but no. You're wrong. Jungwon's manhood is much more than you expected. Just like they say, the skinny guy always has the best package and so does he.

He was fat in both girth and size, not gonna lie he was long. Long enough to make you cry in an ecstasy mess.

Jungwon wasted no time before taking hold of both of your limp, spreading apart as he lean down, captures your sweet ass with his tongue and began to give you a nice licking.

It feels so weird yet so good since this is your very first time doing so, even though you had pleasures yourself in the bathroom all the time but having your love giving you a tongue under you instead? You let out your gasp from a shockwave.

"J-jungwon too good feel too good let's do it i-am ready" you utter, with your breathless and non-stop heaving chest. Begging him to claim you as his own which as a result, he responds with a moan, still enjoying giving you a head, continues to lick wet at your entrance while you hold onto his head.

"Don't be so impatient gummies, for now, brace yourself— would you like it insanely raw or protection gummies?" Jungwon ensures, as much as he wants to do it with you with no condom on that he's still respecting your decision. You almost shed a tear at his words but you chose to keep it safe and said to come along with a condom.

Jungwon nodded before he grabbed a condom, and pulls it overall in, wrapped around his long slimy leaking cock. The texture of the condom, gave him a chill and a sensation at the tip of his cock as he dropped his jaw open, and let out a small gasp.

"I'm going in m/n, I'm going to make us closer than ever!" Jungwon informs as he lines himself at your entrance before sliding in the tip Inside.

The new sensitivity from his tip, almost driving you nuts. Making you cry loudly echoes all over the bedroom. Jungwon was uncut however, his size did him justice to make you feel so right, just one tip already send you jolts.

Jungwon's too were inhales Sharpy, feeling your wall clenching his glan tight. The most sweet spot out of all parts of the cock.

"Can I go in m/n? I want to make your first time unforgettable! Should I go rough or gently hm?"

"Pl-please go, rough love, I wanna feel all of you" you reply desperately, sweat begins to drip down from all the hotness. Jungwon nods and lowers himself slowly until he's all in.

You squeak in a high pitch note, as you quickly cover your mouth with your palm. Jungwon seems to be worried about you, nevertheless, you assure him that it's fine, you're very sensitive that's all.

To make you feel right, He began to grind you from a gentle pace to his balls making skin-slapping sounds between your legs.

Jungwon didn't hide the fact he was too, trembling and shaking from this fuck session, the tip of his cock already found your button at its first attempt. This fuels him more into the world of ecstasy, throwing his head facing up at the white blank ceiling, shoving his hip against you unstoppable.

As expected, you started to feel your orgasm buildings inside his cock, buried and pounding in a rough motion.

"I'm too close jungwon, this is gonna be my biggest explosion ever"

"Fuck holy shit nrgg--m/n I do to hmm I'm gonna c-cum I'm sorry"

Once you reached your climax, white sticky liquids explode from your hand-free dick as it leaks on your belly.

Meanwhile, Jungwon, feeling the same way as you before pulling his cock out of your arse, takes off his condom away and shoots all the hot loads all over your body, including your face too.

"Shibal... Very sensitive arg" [shibal= fuck]

Finally, the first round ended with both of you reached the most thrilling climax ever. Jungwon was still standing, catching his breath, as his leg shaking from the stimulation despite his's also the first time.

How about you? You were almost passed out, chest heaving, as you tried to grab some air from his hard-core fuck. The fact he said he would fuck you, he meant it. Jungwon ate you up and left you no crumbs.

"Sorry m/n if I'm too hard on you, I'll take care of everything"

"*Huff* I see you're being mature now love, but your heart still not mature enough hehe"

🗣️ Please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥🗣️crd to all the owners dividers

[uravitypng]

ghost kurapika x (chubby) reader

KINKTOBER: voyeurism + multiple orgasms

word count: 2.1k words / mdni ! 18 i got really carried away while writing this so that's why it's this long, it was meant to be under 1k asdfghksg. kurapika has some yandere tendencies in this xoxo

when kurapika was still alive he was driven by revenge, his afterlife is fuelled by you. kurapika resents the living and whenever someone new enters his home with cardboard boxes piled high in their arms and a key in the door he wants them to leave. when you came through the door tripping over your own feet and reading out loud a to-do list of things you need to buy he thought exactly the same as all those other times.

then it changed. it wasn't a sudden change, it was gradual. people normally don't want to stay long but for you it's been two years. normally his 'visitors' leave after a while of his hauntings but you've stuck around and now he doesn't want you to go.

in fact now he doesn't even want you to leave the house, the outside world is dangerous and he knows that more than most. you're too delicate and fragile and he can't keep you safe when you leave.

you really like where you live although you feel at times you're being watched... it's not a particularly bad feeling though...

that suspicion you have will be confirmed soon.

kurapika wants to look after you, he watches you while you sleep to make sure you don't get nightmares and watches the door for intruders. he cares for you like he does his clan. everything is platonic, he's never thought of you that way, you're like family.

whenever you'd get changed he'd look away or leave the room but one day he overheard you on the phone complaining about how you slipped in the shower and fell down, luckily you only fell and didn't hit your head and get concussion. kurapika hears this and worries, the next day he's following you into the bathroom to make sure you're safe the entire time.

you lift off your top and throw it into the laundry basket. he was supposed to look away until you get in the shower and the steam surrounded your body but he didn't look away, he didn't even turn after seeing what you were doing. he didn't take his eyes off you as your soft stomach and full breasts get exposed, not wearing a bra because why would you? you're at home. he didn't take his eyes off you when you lowered your leggings down and your thighs come into view. he never looked away from your body as you climbed in the shower and he moved closer to you to 'keep a closer watch on you.' really moving closer made it easier to see you through the steam. he never looked away as water dripped down your skin and you stepped out the shower wrapping a fluffy towel around you.

this started his constant watching, now he's seen you he couldn't look away. the smell of passionfruit fills the bathroom as he takes in your soapy plump body in the shower, your hands running along your body covered in body-wash and hair wet from the shampoo. kurapika presses the palm of his hand over his trousers and groans your name, imagining you stroking him and imagines him helping you in the shower, taking over the task of getting you clean.

after you come home, obviously tired, from a long day, you'll get changed straight away into pyjamas and as you undo your bra with your heavy breasts now free and you moan in pleasure and relief, no more underwire along your body and knowing that you don't have to leave again for the day. kurapika nearly chocks on his own spit as you moan in relief.

when you bend over or stand on your tipy-toes all he can think about is taking you right then and there. as you bend over the sofa to reach the tv remote your top slivers up and everything is on display, it would be so easy to touch you, 'if only ghosts could.' he throws his head back as he comes imagining fucking you right there.

kurapika watches you as you put on a pretty dress and his eyes turn red with worry, 'where are you going?' 'it's late outside.' 'you're too pretty to be alone.'

as you leave kurapika waits by the door, his fist are clenched and he wants you to come home, it's dark out. his mind is racing with hundreds of thoughts, wishing that you'd come home. 'what if he lost you? what if you never came back? he can't lose anyone else.'

hours later he watches you stumble in through the door and he can smell alcohol on your breath. 'is this where you've been, out drinking? what if you got hurt?'

you kick off your shoes and fling yourself in your bed, your arm covering your face and wriggling off your dress. kurapika frowns. his frown turns into pink cheeks as you move your hand under your underwear and whine as you make contact with your clit. kurapika sits on the bed next to you and watches as your face scrunch up, his hand itches to touch you.

he's been content with watching but you've never done this before, or at least he's never seen you do it and he wants to do it for you. he didn't think he'll ever be able to touch you or talk to you but as he puts his hand on your hip you whelp. he didn't expect you to feel anything but you clearly did.

you know you felt something, a cold hand against you. you may have been out drinking tonight but you're only tipsy, and getting more sober, you definitely felt something. you freeze. "is-is anyone there?" your friends would call you crazy talking to yourself but you always feel like someone's watching you, you never feel alone, you always feel like someone's sitting next to you. "i sound ridiculous," you mumble but your mumble is cut short when your breath hitches as you feel that cold sensation again, this time up and down your hip, almost in a soothing matter.

'if i can touch her what else can i do? what if i really concentrate?' carefully swinging his legs over you and resting above you he kisses the side of your neck. you shiver not expecting it and buck your hips up, feeling someone on top of you. you should be alarmed but you're not. somewhere in the back of your head you're always had a suspicion that you weren't alone but you buried the thought down.

kurapika smirks as you move under him and shiver, liking the effect he has on you. he needs you. he wants you to see him. you gasp and your eyes are wide. a man is above you. a very pretty man, blonde hair and cloudy grey eyes that are looking down at you fondly, his gaze makes your cheeks heat up. a singular drop earring hanging down his face.

he knows you can see him as you gasp and make eye contact. "h-hello." you say quietly and he smiles,

"hello my love." you're bashful but feel safe all at once. you've never felt safer in anyone's company. "i'm so glad you can finally see me darling." before you can say anything else kurapika is kissing your neck again making you shiver and running his hands along your body. he fiddles with the hem of your underwear, "can i?"

immediately you hum in confirmation, not caring if you sound needy and you do, making kurapika happy with the knowledge that you need him. you'll stay here with him.

you lift your hips up to help him and he pulls them down. kurapika kisses your neck one last time before moving between your pillowy thighs, opening them wider with his hand and making his way down your body with his lips, kissing your chest and rib, your tummy and your hip, all the way down to your pussy where he opens up your pussy lips with his hand making you moan loudly and he smirks. the temperature of his hands on you mixed with the air that's now blowing on you makes your senses heightened. with his hands on you he flicks your clit gently with his tongue making you breathe heavily, wrapping his lips around your bud and sucking making your laboured breathing turn into loud moans. it doesn't take long for you to come but kurapika doesn't give you a break, touching you again, this time pushing two fingers inside of you and making you scream.

"feel good darling?" you nod your head rapidly as he continuously hits your gspot with his long fingers, his thumb stays on your clit and rubs it. you come again.

by this point his cock is so hard that it's hurting but he doesn't want to stop not yet. he makes you come one more time on his fingers while you screech and lifts himself up so he's looking at you. "i'm going to fuck you now love." he kisses your temple, sweaty after so many orgasms. at some point he must of taken off his trousers but you didn't see. you don't know where they went either so who's to question ghost logic and rules.

kurapika takes your hand in his and lays them next to your head before slowly pushing into you. you gasp at the sheer size of him even after so many orgasms and foreplay. when he is in you fully he waits and pauses for you to feel comfortable, and leans close to your ear. "i'll make you feel so good my darling but you've got to say my name okay."

"okay, pretty boy." his cheeks are pink as you call him pretty boy. when he was still alive people would ask him if he was a girl, and say he looked feminine he used to hate that and he thought he would hate someone calling him pretty but when you said it he didn't hate it. not at all.

"kurapika," he tells you his name, smiling and you repeat it. he liked pretty boy but nothing beats you saying his name, it sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth. he's never loved anyone saying his name as much since his klan was murdered. you go to tell him your name but he interrupts you, "i know who you are darling. is it okay if i move now?"

"yes. please kurapika, please move," you reply breathlessly and he listens to what you want as he starts moving, rocking his hips gently and squeezing your hands.

"i'm so thankful i can touch you," he kisses you shoulder and his thrusts stay the same. he seems composed but he wants you badly, he'll take it slow though and make sure you get treated how you should be treated- like a queen.

he's not the most experienced in the world, he never cared much about sex, it wasn't a priority when he was alive but he will make you feel good, he'll make sure of it. you feel so wet and warm that it's making him lightheaded but he grounds himself by squeezing your hands.

you don't stop moaning and whimpering his name all night as he makes you come over and over again as you plead for a break but at this point he doesn't let up, holding your plush thighs in one of his hands and keeping it over his shoulder. "can't take no more! please 'pika can't come again."

"yes you can darling, you can give me another one." and you do. another one and another one and another one.

just as he's about to come a image flashes through his head of you swollen with his baby, a baby with beautiful red eyes, the kurta clan has a chance with you.

ropes of white shoot into you as he comes and you're shocked at how warm it is because the rest of him is cold. he groans and his grip on you tightens as he orgasms. kurapika stays inside you for a minute before slowly pulling out not wanting you to suddenly feel empty. if it's also plugging up you full of his cum then that's just a byproduct...

when he pulls out he gives you a chaste kiss where you go to chase it reaching up higher to kiss him, he lets you kiss him and mumbles against your lips, "i love you."

[lilacgaby]

title: i'd fight the sun for you, my love

pairing: barbarian!kirishima x borrower!reader

summary: when kirishima finds you, a tiny human(?), stealing from his things, he finds that you've stolen his heart as well.

notes: ask, secret life of arriety inspired bc that movie is so cute, yandere kinda

kirishima was sunbathing out in an open field. he had just finished a long treck through the caverns of a dragon. he was finally shutting his eyes.. when he heard a scuffling noise behind him.

he turned around to see.. a small human grabbing all his jewels? a needle keeping your hair held up, a fitted red leotard and leggings encapsulated you as you stuffed thing after thing into your small bag.

at the realization you'd been caught, you'd dropped all your splendors and ran to go back to your home, a hole in the ground.

it was too late though, the barbarian was faster and caught you easily.

he looked you over, sitting you in his palm as he examined.

"do you.. understand me?"

you nodded, feeling odd under his gaze. you were taught to fear people like him, to never let a human see you, to run as fast as you could away.

this guy was making all your red flags go off. sharp teeth? jewelry? tall? he had abs?

"what are you? some kind of elf?"

"i'm a borrower! not some elf!"

"huh? okay.. ms borrower.. why were you stealing my stuff? that's really expensive you know."

"it's what we do! and you can always get more random guy."

"that's not the point-- it's the principle."

"whatever! let me go to my home!"

"what's wrong..?"

he let you down, bending down to the grass to let you scurry to your home.

he turned around, getting ready to lay back down when he heard rushed running back. you tapped on his legs, tears in your eyes.

"[name]. and there's a- a spider. can you kill it for me? it's in my house!" you wailed, clinging to his leg.

"oh. i got you [name], im eijiro, just.. hold on."

he put you on his shoulder, looking at the small hole you called home.

he set off a bit of fire into the hole, killing the spider,

but burning all your things along with it.

".. did you just incinerate all my stuff."

he rubbed the back of his neck. "oops?"

you yelled directly into his ear, making him promise to travel with you until he got back all your stuff.. plus interest.

he agreed, and so it began.

he grew infatuated you to a strange degree, you'd catch him staring at you often, always wanting you in his arms.

you'd be safe that way, he assured you.

if anything so much as made you flinch it'd get incinerated.

it progressed as your travels did, the satchel with your stuff getting bigger and bigger.

he'd make note of all the things you'd like to eat, to do, to read, he'd fill your days with stories and happy memories.

he'd make sure you slept comfortably, foraging cotton and leaves so you'd sleep on a plush bed.

he'd never make you go hungry, adding days worth of travels onto his journey just to get you your favorites.

he'd dress you now too, grabbing flowers and snipping pieces of his fabric to decorate you.

like a little doll.

but his possessive nature grew too, it started only with bugs, but it ended with creatures. other humans too, he'd even hurt one of your own kind.

but it was all for you wasn't it? don't make him feel guilty, you're just so helpless, so small.

you couldn't leave, you needed your stuff back right? you needed him.

you realized, even though you weren't in a cage, you'd been caught.

and you could never escape the barbarian, who was now planning on taking you to his home. forever.

tag: @eyeofthetiger501

[jakesangel]

jake finding you crying - requested

it's usually at night, day finally over, that we can all finally settle down, n realize that we aren't that okay. and the same goes to you. life is though : too much drama in your school/work place, to much work to do, problèmes in your family and/ or your friends. things are too munch to bear and the only thing steady left in your life, your most needed person at the moment, your lovely jake. so you call him, not knowing what to do but you know his presence will soothe you down. that call would wake him up, him being an early bird, and would be a bit confused as to why you suddenly call him but hearing your sobs would wake him up right away. what's wrong, angel ? did something happened ?, he'd voice to you w nothing but worries. as you ask him to come over, he would already be getting ready, leaving the dorm in roar.

as he arrived, he would knock lots showing the panic filling his body, and as you open the door, he will immediately engulf you in his arms. my baby, i'm all here now, he would murmur, one hand softly stroking your hair, shhh, it's okay baby it's okay, he would add if you start to sob in his embrace. he wouldn't stop hugging you until you're the one leaving his embrace, even if you guys are in the hallway. do you wanna talk about it, angel or do you want comfort tonight ? he would ask you, taking your face in his hands, his eyes reading yours trying to convey you support and steadiness's in your shaky breath. as yous amswers, jake would kiss your forehead and/or your lips, okay whatever you want baby. i'm staying tonight yeah ?

if you want to talk about it, he would make you sit on your nearest surface, it could be the sofa or the bed or even the kitchen counter, and would then make you talk. he'd face you, eyes on your teary face, holding your hand, a small display of the immense support he has for you. just breath my angel, or you're safe here, are words spelled from him as you struggle to let your words out. and the second he sees your eyes waters, words too hard for your own mental health, he would drop your hand immediately to take you in his arms again,baby if it's too munch, you don't have to tell me right now, he'd shush you as his hand would smooth your back, you can cry all you want in my arms, i'll be here for you all night long. as you guys stay close to each other, he would keep comforting you, i know things can be too much right now baby, but everything will work out at the end i promise you. ill be here with you through out this journey as close or as far as you want me to be. but i want you to know, that no matter what you will not lose me. i'll forever be here for you, my y/n, he would say as he put your hair back in place, eyes searching for yours. remember that i love you my angel and that you are okay. keep thinking about those two fact, especially when you feel like it's too munch, okay baby ? he'd finally finish his face now right in front of yours, kissing your lips.

if you don't feel like talking, everything being too munch for your, he would hold you, your legs around his waist, walking the both of you to your bedroom. he would then place you on top of him, under the covers, your face prettily crying in the crock of your neck. he'd have one arm around your waist the other in your hair. from time to time he will, wipe your tears away, or kiss your hand on his chest. he would stay awake until you fall asleep of exhaustion. he wouldn't stop his shh during the whole cuddle session and would even hum or sing you a song. when he sees you asleep, he will then place you on the bed, so that the both of you have a more comfortable position to fall asleep to, him spooning you. good night my angel, he would say sadly before going himself to the arms of morpheus, kissing the top of your head.

notes : hai anon, here's your request >< tell me what you think in the inbox <3

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @stwrjvke @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 5

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home. Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you.  All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, dark themes, found family LoV, mdni wc: 5.8k | prev | chapter 6 | m. list | read on ao3

Shigaraki can’t seem to figure out what it is about you that pulls you to him. It’s something that gnaws at the walls of his brain and it makes his skin itch. 

When he’s plotting schemes — you’re there. When he’s in the field, away on missions that will progress his goals — you’re there. And when he closes his eyes at night to go to bed?

You’re there. 

Haunting his mind like a ghost. 

A ghost of his past, a ghost of his present. He just can’t put his finger on it but there is a familiarity in you that only he can see. 

Shigaraki has always had hazy memories, but this one is so distinct — it replays in his mind at the worst of times. 

Is it your face? So innocent, so kind, but filled with hidden valor. Something so easily overlooked by your usually skittish demeanor. 

Shigaraki has taken notice of that. It was one of the first things that caught his eye about you. 

But is it your personality? The way there is more than meets the eye — a budding courage and fortitude growing under the concrete of your fragile frame of mind. 

He didn’t know. All he knew for the time being was that this bothered him. It gave him things to think about that had nothing to do with the new society he would bring. 

It was a distraction. 

There’s a sharp pain along the side of Shigaraki's neck and it’s then he realizes his bad habit of scratching has made itself known again. Something he’s been trying to work on has pried its way back into his mind. 

Whatever. 

It doesn’t matter what these feelings mean — all that matters is his goal and his plans to bring it into fruition.

Anything else is a distraction. 

———————

You have to leave today. 

The mission shouldn’t take long — three days max, but you still feel anxious about it. Dabi is in charge and you trust him to know what he’s doing. 

You don’t really trust him to keep you safe, though. 

It should be simple enough — stay back, do your job and come back to the base. 

A quick and easy mission. 

Or it would have been, until Dabi paid you a visit. 

“Do you understand?” his voice drags, air of boredom present as if he didn’t just turn your world upside down.

Dabi wants you to help on the mission. He wants you to—

“But that wasn’t the plan! I’m a healer.”

His cerulean eyes narrow, slight hint of irritation flashing over his features before it's gone again, “I know what you are. This would be more useful.” 

You stare at him as he flippantly waves you off and starts towards your doorway, unaware that you are sick at the notion of helping someone cause harm. 

“It’s not optional.” He tacks on, words ringing in your ears. 

You're struck still as Dabi departs, leaving you alone to bear the burden of silence as you anticipate what your new role will bring. 

It’s clear that you’ve lost. 

Dabi wants you to help him interrogate the moles.

He believes that your healing would pair well with his burning. A tactic that can wear the moles down enough to give the information Dabi seeks. It’s a cruel task and one you were not sure you could go through with. 

You may be a villain now but you are not evil.

You were not cruel — no matter how cruel the world had been to you. 

The thoughts weigh on your mind as you move to stand, nerves buzzing as you begin to pace around your room.

No, no, you were a healer. Maybe you were never intending to be a hero, but you never want to harm others either. Even if those others hold the title of villain. 

There had to be another way.

You stop, still in your tracks as the metaphoric lightbulb goes on in your head, steering the gears on your mind into action as the thoughts fall into place. 

You had an idea — a plan.

A small smile makes its way onto your face and you feel as though you’ve solved the unsolvable. 

Maybe, just maybe, no one had to get hurt on this mission.

———————

The sound of dripping pipes and scatter of steps too small to be human grate your ears and make you shudder. 

It’s creepy down here. 

That’s the only thing that comes to mind as you trail behind Dabi through abandoned tunnels. 

You sidestep some fallen debris and realize that the underground tunnels here are a reminder to never take the tunnels below the bar for granted. 

It’s slummy, it’s dark and it smells like abandoned agony. 

There are graffiti stains along the walls, leaking pipes against the ceilings and the floors are littered with fluids of all colors. 

Just being down here makes your stomach twist as your body subconsciously moves closer to Spinner, who trudges beside you as you all navigate through the area. 

Your father would have never allowed you to roam a place like this. 

But he’s not here anymore. 

And you’re a villain now. 

(Kind of.) 

Dabi is in front of you, leading the way as you all trek the halls of the abandoned underground. He moves with the confidence of someone who has seen and done this a million times. You absently wonder if he has. 

You knew next to nothing of Dabi. Nothing about where he’s from, how he’s grown up or where he got his burns — nothing. 

But with his steel gaze and uninterested tone, you think it’s better that way. 

Maybe knowing nothing could be a gift. 

“How much longer?” Spinner breaks the silence as his voice echoes through the halls. 

Dabi doesn't look back, only continuing his trek along the tunnels. “Just keep moving.”

As desperate as you are to know where this trek is heading you decide to hold your tongue. The air of this place is eerie enough and the sooner you get there, the sooner you can leave. 

But it’s odd, you’ve been walking for what feels like hours and you can’t help the nagging feeling that nothing has really changed. 

Not until you all come up on a large corridor. One with two identical, dark pathways. 

Dabi stops in his tracks, leading you both to follow his actions. “Alright wannabe, you go left, I’ll go right.” He throws you a glance, features as indifferent as his tone. “Healer, you’re with me.”

“We’re splitting up?” Spinner pipes up, frustrations of the endless trail palpable and you silently wonder if sending him alone was the safest way to go.

“To cover more ground. You have your way to contact me if you find them.” the arsonist shrugs, mind set on the given direction and you hurry to keep up with him — Spinner going in his respective direction with more brevity than you had previously given him credit for. 

There’s a slight ping in your chest and you kick yourself for thinking Spinner couldn’t hold his own alone. He was still a part of the League afterall. 

You and Dabi both veer right, into the limitless corridor with dim lights sparking like they could go out at any moment. 

This is not a place you would want to find yourself alone in. 

With the crunch of broken beer bottle glass and deep red splatters of what you could only assume as blood along the walls, you truly wonder what you’ve walked into. 

You decide to tread beside Dabi, catching up to his stride and ensuring he won’t leave your sight. 

The warmth radiating from his body is as nice as it is intimidating. It shows just how hot his body naturally runs from his dormant quirk. 

But it’s comforting. It blankets you and soothes the goosebumps that had spread across your skin in the chilled air of the tunnels. 

The silence between you feels natural and not forced, even though your curious questions about his past pry themselves to the forefront of your mind. 

You prefer this, you think. Wandering in silence while looking for the moles. You almost feel.. safe with Dabi here to guide the mission. 

“Hey—”

You gasp and turn back, swearing you heard another voice.

But there was nothing there. 

“Spinner?” You call out into the depths of the hall, walls fading into pitch black as you stare and wait for a response. 

The dark abyss is quiet as you wait for any signs of movement, but everything is stock-still. 

You turn back to Dabi, eyes lingering on the darkness, “did you hear that—?”

You look around but the arsonist is nowhere to be found. The sinking feeling in your heart deepens as your palms grow sweaty with simmering fear.

“Dabi?” 

Nothing. 

He was there just a moment ago, there was no way he could have left your sight. It’s a one way hall with no other doors. 

No, you think, panic rising as you move to sprint down the hall, go the way you know he has to be walking, Dabi wouldn’t leave you in here alone. 

Before you’re able to take your next step, hands engulf you, the sheer shock causes a cry to escape your lips only to be quieted by another hand covering your mouth. 

“Gotcha.”

———————

There's a sluggish and slow pull as you fight to open your eyes. Your nose twitches as your body feels like it's been thrown underwater and brought back to shore just moments before an inevitable demise. 

You feel heavy.

It’s a struggle to move your arm and it takes even longer for you to realize they’re being held together by your wrists. You fight harder to blink yourself awake and it’s then that you notice the voices speaking amongst themselves in the foreign space you’ve found yourself in. 

Your vision is blurry but you flutter until there’s clarity. 

Their voices sound muffled, like you were really underwater as they spoke, but the more you focused the clearer things became. 

There were three men in this room. 

One had dark hair and gleaming red eyes, while the other looked to be much younger. He sat atop a dusty desk and leered at you from a distance, speaking with the third man in a tone too chipper for the line of work he must be in.

The third man in question had you held by the wrists. 

He was behind you, laughing as one hand held your wrists and the other roamed in places that made you feel sick to your stomach. 

“Oh look, she’s awake. Morning princess.” The younger one spoke, green eyes almost glowing despite the darkness of the room. 

Morning? No, there was no way it was morning, but you couldn’t tell up from down right now. You tried and tried, but the grogginess you felt just would not go away.  

You move to speak, but the man behind you is faster, bringing a hand to your mouth to stop your voice before it's free. 

Your eyes dart around the room, seeking any form of familiarity. You only spot a worn down chair that one of the men had occupied, an old, dusty office desk and several metal wire shelves. 

Nothing helpful.

You try again to release your wrists, body slow moving and feeling as though it had been made of lead, but you fight with the strength you have. The man behind you only chuckles, easily amused by your struggle. 

“Whoa there, don’t hurt yourself. My quirk has you doped up with enough tranquilizer to take down a bear.” 

His quirk. Of course. 

You mentally kick yourself at the oversight. How could you be so naive? 

He leans closer, breath ghosting your ear. “Just relax.”

You scramble to remember your training, your fighting skills, anything but it all comes up short against a real life threat. The reality of the situation only makes you sick to your stomach and you cannot believe how woefully unprepared you are.  

You look at the two men in front of you through dreary eyes and know that it doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going. 

Your brows knit in frustration as you begin to feel lightheaded once more, but you desperately try to stay centered. 

“We really don’t have time for this.” A voice speaks up, it's the man with dark hair and narrowed eyes glaring at the other man holding you. You finally notice his lit cigarette and the way it’s awful smell clouds the room. 

The sleeze behind you only chuckles, dark and low as he removes the hand from your mouth to grab your cheeks, squeezing them as he releases your wrists, knowing his quirk has made you weak enough to do so. He pulls you closer by the waist. “Don’t we? Look at her. You don’t come across this often.”

The other nods in agreement, rising from his place on the dusty desk in the corner of the room. Even in your haze you can tell this place is dingy and abandoned — filled with old worn furniture that wouldn't sit on if they paid you. 

“Yeah, you should loosen up.” He mocks, stalking towards you with a sly grin, calling back to the third member of the trio. He places a hand on your head, moving your hair from your eyes. “She’s cute.” 

Your breath is ragged as you struggle against the hold, forcing the man to release your face and he pins your arms behind your back again instead. “Whoa there, feisty.” 

His laugh echoes in your ears and you desperately wonder where your comrades could be at a time like this. 

The man before you watches as you search the bare room for any kind of exit, an amused smile on his face.  

“Any chance that Blue Flame guy will interrupt us soon?” The one behind you speaks, and you close your eyes, knowing he’s gotten you figured out. 

“No way. He’s still stuck in disillusion. By the time he breaks out of it we’ll be long gone.” They both laugh at the idea and it puts your stomach in knots. Of course the other would have a quirk like that. 

No wonder it felt like you were going in circles. 

It’s because you had been. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

The next moments feel like a blur as you struggle to catch your breath. 

He is swift as he turns you toward the desk, pushing you forward and bending you over the dusty surface with ease. The panic from before is back and beating against your chest at full force. There was no way this was happening. 

Not like this.

You start to thrash again, even though your body feels like you're trailing it through sludge. 

It's pointless.

You try again to yell — to call for Dabi who was supposed to be with you throughout this, but nothing comes out. God only knows where he could be now, trapped in some illusionary quirk, blind to the time passing by. Wandering for hours. 

Completely oblivious to the danger you were in. 

Your knees tremble when you feel the heat of the other man leering over you, it makes you turn your head, eyes locking with the third guy in the room. 

He meets your eyes, reluctantly watching as his comrades make lewd comments about your body and move in on your space. There is obvious disdain in his crimson eyes but he makes no move to comment further. 

Damn it, damn it, damn it. 

There was nothing you could do to shake the effects of this tranquilizer quirk. Goosebumps rise along your skin as you feel the sticky residue left behind by the other man’s quirk as his hands ghost any bare skin he could reach. 

You were going to be sick. 

“The plans…” the seated one interjects, desperate to stay on topic. “We have to rendezvous with him again tomorrow night. We can’t stay here any longer.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” You heard the younger one interject, disinterest clear in his tone. 

“This is our last stint working with the league. Maybe we can leave them a parting gift.” The other breathes from above you, slowly dragging his palms along your clothed sides. 

The response makes the third guy roll his eyes and the younger one laughs. 

“N-no…” you find your voice, as small and meek as it may be, you choke out a whispered plea, so faint you almost didn’t hear it yourself. 

“What’s that girl?” You can hear the grin in his words, to think you had derived a plan that would save these assholes. 

To think you didn’t want them to die.  

“You scared?” He mocks, “what, you a virgin or somethin’?”

The warm tears begin to fall, pushing past your waterline and onto the dirty desk. 

“She’s crying! She is!” The blond shouts, excited at his unspoken discovery. 

“How lucky.”

The third of the trio sighs, removing the cigarette from his lips and rising from his place on the chair, but not before making eye contact with you, real eye contact. 

The kind that makes your heart jump at the notion — and then you see it.

The flash of pity. 

Your heart skips at the flash of his reluctance. 

It's so firm and so clear that you can almost feel the idea of him stepping in to save you, knowing that being a villain doesn’t mean you have to be downright villainous, but your hope is crushed as soon as it arrives. 

Stomped out onto the asphalt along with the man’s finished cigarette. 

The man sighs again, rolling his eyes at his comrades as he makes his way to the door, taking your hopes and wishes with him. 

“Well you fuckers better not take too long. I’m leaving.” 

And then he’s gone — leaving you with the men who will use and abuse you. There was a chance to stop something horrific but he couldn’t care less. 

It makes you think. 

It takes you back to your father and his never ending rants of how all men feel the same about girls like you. Stupid, naive and never able to stand on their own.

He put men like this away while wearing the mask of a public servant only to strip the mask and become the same of those he claimed to hate behind closed doors. 

But he’s not here anymore and now you were left in the hands of the unfamiliar.

You can’t help the bile that rises in your throat as you wonder if this was destined to be your fate in the end no matter what. 

You wish you had a choice. 

God, how foolish had you been. 

How naive of you to want to save these men from the League's wrath. 

You should have known better. You’ve been shown time and time again. 

They are all the same. 

They would always only want one thing from you and there was nothing you could do to stop or change it. 

But…

There’s a flash in your mind, of narrowed red eyes and soft pale hair. 

You think of his gloved hand, offering his drink to you. Of his hushed laugh late that night when you unintentionally insulted him. The leader of this group of villains you’ve found yourself a part of, the one who has treated you with nothing but respect since he’s met you. 

The sickness returns. 

The humiliation burns at your eyes. 

Tomura trusted you to be here and now you will pay for it. 

It’s as ironic as it is cruel. 

You were going to be sick. 

“What a prude.” The guy scoffs and turns to his younger comrade, bringing you out of your dissociated stupor and back to your unfortunate reality. 

He lifts you once more, putting your body on display for his younger friend and brings a hand around to cup your clothed breast.

He’s loose with his movements, halfheartedly holding your wrist with one hand and gloating with the other. It’s enough to leave your other hand free and you wince as it dangles by your side. 

You feel the breeze of the open door, pitch black outside of it and wish you had the strength to make a run for it. 

You were so close, like a carrot dangling in front of you face, but just far enough to be out of reach.

His words feel loud in your ears and you close your eyes, resigned to your fate.  “He doesn’t know what he’s missin’ out on.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

The man tenses and that’s all you register before you feel a strong pull. 

A heavy hand grips your forearm and pulls with a force you’ve never felt before. It’s so hot you almost feel burned but your mind is too groggy to care. 

And then it happens. 

You feel it before you see it. 

Blue flames erupt into the room that you were pulled out of. 

If there were screams they are too distant to be noted now. All you feel is heat and you’re beginning to sweat. You can't tell if you’ve been overdosed by the guy’s intoxicating quirk or if your mind was too stressed to care. 

All you can do is pant and struggle to watch as the familiar blue flames lick the frame of the door and incinerate those inside of it. 

(And as you watch the room bathe in flashes of cyan blue and purple hue, the sleezy men wither away into ash — into nothing — it finally clicks in your mind that oh.

His villain name means creation for this reason exactly.)

The men who held you before were no more. That thought alone would have sent you into another fit of tears if the heat from Dabi’s flames hadn’t dried the trails of them from before. 

The flame user in question stands beside you, breathing heavy and teeth bared. You can’t tell if the smell of burning flesh is coming from him or the two bodies he’s just burned and you don’t think you can stomach another thought towards the answer. 

His brows are pinched in anger and you don’t think you’ve seen this much expression from the man since you’ve known him. 

The hand holding your arm is gripping you so tight it almost hurts, but you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. 

As if the idea of letting Dabi go would take this all away — as if it would make you wake up and face a reality where Dabi is not fast enough to save you. 

A reality where your nightmares are realized. 

“One of them got away.” Dabi low voice rasps and you can only register that conclusion by the footsteps echoing from farther away. He ran the opposite direction, with a head start and far away from Dabi’s wrath. “Maybe Spinner will catch the fucker.”

You can’t bring yourself to speak nor nod. The effects of the quirks toxin are still sweeping through your body with its wrath. 

There’s a lasting lump of dread in your stomach that makes you feel bolted where you stand. It pulls and pulls, dragging you lower and lower until you can no longer keep yourself upright.

You tense, mentally bracing yourself to meet the cold hard feeling of concrete, but somehow, the feeling never comes.

———————

There is something to be said to those with heavy quirks. Those who have quirks that stay for much longer than they should and linger well past their welcome. 

The intoxicating quirk of the sleezy villain before is definitely one you’re happy you’ll never encounter again. 

Your head feels full of cotton as you struggle to catch your bearings, hands gripping the sides of the toilet. It’s been this way since you woke up from the outing. 

The unpleasant remains of the toxins have ruined your stomach, and you’ve found yourself here, on the floor of the bathroom for the better half of an hour. 

A seesaw of back and forth nausea from the quirk and the fact that those two men are dead. 

Gone forever. 

Incerated. 

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the smell of their burning flesh and the final sounds of their screams. 

You wearily eye your cell phone, tossed onto the tile of the floor and locked. It’s inviting, almost calling to you as your hand hovers over it. 

You could call Shigaraki and tell him about the disaster mission you’ve just experienced, but you stop yourself. 

What did you expect would happen? That he would comfort you like he did on the roof? 

He is your leader, not your friend. 

You scoff bitterly at your spiraling train of thought. 

If you called him now It would just be a show of how incapable you are, and you can’t risk this new home you’ve found. 

So, instead of fighting a losing battle, you bring shaky hands to your forehead, the warmth of your own healing quirk soothing you in a way that feels reminiscent to your mother’s ways. 

There was no use waiting around in a stuffy bathroom. Men were dead because of you. 

You know you shouldn’t feel guilt for it — they were trying to hurt you — but the deaths are so heavy on your mind. 

Forcing yourself to stand on wobbly legs, you walk back to your temporary room. 

Shigaraki set you all up with a cover home, seemingly belonging to a family of three but long abandoned. You took the room of the young daughter, the place covered top to bottom in lace and frills. 

You try not to wonder where she’s ended up. 

Your temporary bedroom is down the hall from the bathroom, not too far for any emergency nausea. 

And from the short distance you can see that there’s someone in your room. 

The closer you get to the door the clearer it becomes that it’s only Dabi, seated and awaiting your return. It would be a lie to say the nausea you felt in that moment only came from the quirk. 

“Have a seat.”  He wastes no time breaking the air, thick rasp of his voice making you hesitate as you linger in the doorway. 

Your eyes fall to the ground as the persistent dread in your gut grows, but you do as he instructs. The bed below you feels too soft, a stark contrast from the firm one you’ve grown to know at the hideout. 

You know what this is about, but the anxiety fills you all the same. 

There was nowhere to run. 

Dabi would tell Shigaraki of your failure today and let him know how you weren’t cut out for this. You would have to leave. 

You would have to—

“What are you gonna do?” His dreary voice drags, cutting through your train of thought. 

You look up at him. 

“What?”

“There’s one more left. Are you going to sit here puking your guts out about this or are you going to finish what they started?”

You eye Dabi wearily. 

Was he.. was he trying to encourage you?

With his narrowed eyes and crossed arms this feels more like an attempted pep talk from an emotionally stunted relative than a scolding from a higher up. 

“I… I don’t know.” You murmur, unsure of how to heed this conversation. Shouldn’t you be on the chopping block right now? “Two of them are dead. I think I’ve done enough damage—”

You don’t miss the eye roll Dabi couldn’t be bothered to hide. 

“Why do you feel sympathetic? They wouldn’t give half a shit about you.” He spits and you flinch at the harsh words, knowing they were nothing but the truth. “Nobody cares about people like us.” 

People like us, you think bitterly. Villains. Outcasts. People that aren’t worth saving. People that are lost causes. There are no heroes for those like Dabi — and now, people like you. 

The thought makes you choke up, vision blurring as you bring a hand to your mouth. It’s too late to melt from the humiliation of this, and the weight of the day is just too heavy to carry anymore. 

“This world is cruel.” He continues, tone even and leveled despite your come apart. “You need to learn to stand on your own. We may not always be there to save you.”

It’s the truth. The cold hard reality you face. You would be lying if you said those hands wouldn’t haunt your nightmares for years to come. 

But you wanted to try. As futile as it may have sounded. It’s why even through your tears you speak, “I-I had a plan, you know.” 

Dabi’s brow quirks at this, head tilted in interest.

“I didn’t want anyone to get h-hurt. It was stupid, I know! But I wanted to try.”

You expect him to dismiss you, to say how naive and even childish you may sound. You don’t expect his next words. 

“And what was that plan?”

You look up, warm tears still cascading down your flushed cheeks and your nose probably looking less than sightly. “What?”

“Tell it to me and maybe we can work something out.” His cerulean eyes shimmer with curiosity. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he begins to piece together his own thoughts and ideas for your next courses of action. 

And you think to yourself, watching as he listened intently to your words that maybe there was more to Dabi’s personality than meets the eye. 

———————

You thought you would never be down in the tunnels again. It was unfamiliar and cold, if Dabi were to light the entire thing on fire you would be fine with it. 

Each step you take through these grotesque tunnels makes the pit of dread in your stomach grow deeper and deeper. 

It’s unsettling to be back here — even knowing the men were dead. 

You look to your right, turning down the next hall and continuing on your way. 

Spinner said the last one never left the tunnels and there’s only one way out. You’re sure he’s been backed into a corner with Dabi patrolling the area and Spinner lurking and listening. 

That only leaves you. If the man wanted to take the easier target, it’s clear he would choose you. 

You almost scoff. Of course he would. 

But you were ready today. There were no more illusion quirks and no more ambushing. There was just you and—-

You stop in your tracks, the sound of a footstep slashing against water draws your attention. 

The nerves almost build again but you force yourself to focus. This is possibly your last chance to make things right, for yourself more than anything, but also for the mission. 

Keep yourself quiet and lure him in, just like Dabi instructed. 

His movements are sloppy, you can tell from the way he blows his cover to tackle you from the back, but the same trick won't work on you twice. 

You turn, fully ready to send a punch his way when he moves, pushing you to the side and through a weakened door beside you. 

You both tumble to the floor, the hard concrete scraping against your arms as you fight for your life with the skills you’d learned from Toga. You know that with her training and your determined mind it will be all the more easy to get the upper hand today. 

And you do. 

It's a cheap shot, but you hit him where it hurts, climbing onto him when he has no choice but to coil over. 

Your bat was lost in the scuffle, forgotten as you pulled out one of Toga’s slender knives she had gifted to you. Training with her had made you adopt many of her ways, but you were thankful for them. 

They remind you of how far you had come.

Remind you that no, you were not weak like you once thought. 

You look down at the man below you, his eyes closed as he begged for your forgiveness. 

You were ambushed. 

Your training was not in vain. 

“Wait!” The man below you pleads and it's now that you can see the bags under his eyes, whether it be from anguish of his fallen comrades or the lack of sleep you know he hadn’t gotten last night. It doesn’t matter, you can clearly see the cracks. 

You pause, holding the knife to his throat with narrowed eyes, the look urges him to continue — to plead his case. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he starts and you have to keep yourself from scoffing, “I-I know what they did was wrong — I know! But it had nothing to do with me.”

Your brow twitches in annoyance, but you let him go on. This was your part of the deal you made with Dabi. You wanted a chance to hear them out, or to hear the last one out — to see if there was any way that a compromise could be made. 

But now that you had the man here underneath you and groveling you felt something you never had before.

You felt… strong. 

“Just let me go.” His words break through your thoughts, they were tired and worn. Like he knew his time was up. “I know you’re better than this.”

This time you scoff at the irony. 

Better than this, he says. As if that would have gotten you out of that room unscathed. As if being better than this would have made him step in and stop his comrades from trying to assault you.

Yeah, better than this is complete bullshit. 

He’s wrong. 

In this world there is no such thing as fairness. 

If you let him go, if you let him leave here there’s no telling what else he would leak. 

You believe this is why Dabi allowed you the freedom of enacting your plan. The plan where you wanted to hear their side, their story. But now you know better.

It's you or them. Even men who were complacent had no room for your mercy.

So with a (not so heavy) heart you stare down at the man, eyes even and leveled.  

“He’s in here!” Your voice echoes throughout the run down building and the man curses you, calls you every name under the sun but you cannot bring yourself to care. 

“You stupid bitch—!”

In a world like this one it’s win or lose. Take or be taken. 

Kill or be killed. 

Dabi is in the room in an instant, whistling an impressed tune. 

“Not bad, little bird.” His grin grows as he assesses the scene, staples pulling at his skin in ways you can only assume are painful. “I knew you had it in you.” 

He steps closer, gravel crunching under his boots as he bends down eye level with the man. 

“Now, let’s get this show started.”