#her name reads as faith to me

[angelmush]

i got a goose tattooed on the inside of my forearm today and it was a flash piece but it's my favorite tattoo already it means everything to me i could sob

[hauntingblue]

Pluton lore: it can be used to make islands disappear. But why would crocodile want that

Zoro no learning that a swordsman is worth nothing if he can only attack and can't protect... yeah yeah yeah

Water luffy is so silly but makes so much sense like this is how we got to gear 5... also robin laughing.... this is where she thought she might join... like at least she will laugh with them. Also crocodile gets mad right after so it works to rile him up too!! Magnificent plan luffy

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Everything I've Ever Written (on Tumblr)

I have been writing online since 2016. As a result, I have quite the few short stories listed below! They're all from different parts in my writing journey and I hope you enjoy.

If you'd like to read what I currently put out, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairy Tales

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Part 4 / Part 5 /Part 6

Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Destiny Universe

You Are the Demon King

The Hero and Hope (part 1) (part 2)

Being Villagers

Heroes and Villains

Therapist for Villains

Juniper and Discus

Self Destruct Villain (flash fiction)

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You Help Kill Heroes

You are the Shark Hero

Mist into a Tempest

The Civilian and the Reluctant Hero

No Heroes Here

The Spoiler (humor, flash fiction)

You are Legacy

Hero in Title

Dark Lord's Former Coworker

One Minute

The Fae:

You Become Powerful

Your Friend Takes Your Name

Larkin and Yvette

Debt Must Be Repaid (humor flash fiction)

Going to the Hill

The Fae are Free

When They Don't Know (submitted to elsewhereuniversity)

The Chosen One

The Chosen One's Parents

Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls

Amulet to Save Her

Hero's Apprentice (Flash fiction)

The Aftermath of the Chosen One

Wizards Stole My Brother

You are the Chosen One's Knight

The Chosen One is a History Major

You are the Most Powerful Magic User

Time Restarts and She Remembers

Better the Witch than the Kid

Witches

It Was in a Name

The Good Witch of Hawthorne

Berthe the Green Witch

Cursed Mold (flash fiction)

Love isn't Enough

I Can't Believe it's not Proper Adjudication

Devil Deals

The Devil You Know

The Ritual

They Summoned Her on Halloween (flash fiction)

Fairytale Retellings

Ariel and Ursula (age appropriate)

The Gods

Zeus' Son

Faith in Technology

Sci-Fi

Six Red Bulls and Persistence

The Sound of Silence

Emmaline and the Apartment

Humans are Vengeful

Humans Know War (that's why we have diplomacy)

Criminals Forced to Live on as AI (flash fiction)

Misc Fantasy

Wind-Speaker

Wind-Speaker and Her Wife

You Will Become

The Sirens and Leona (flash fiction)

Eldritch Princess (flash fiction)

Princess Maria and the Dragon

Princess Maria is Kidnapped

Immortals are Afraid of Change

Fiona the Dragon

A Violently Won War

Meta Stories

An Abstract Concept

Narrative Town

Narrative Town: Uncle Ralph

Princess Phaedra Breaks

You are a Horror Movie Villain

Ghost Stories

Malevolent Spirits

Your House is Haunted by an Anime Pillow

Don't Open the Door

Grandma's House

Who Is? (flash fiction)

A Face (flash fiction)

Misc.

You Choose Your Fate in Hell

Time Paradox (flash fiction)

You are an Assassin

Multiple Dimension Serial Killer (flash fiction)

An Exercise in Mary Sue

She Comes Back from the Hospital (tw eating disorder)

Roses and Evil (mental health flash fiction)

Big Brother

A Conversation About Anger

Punching Depression

Two Sides (flash fiction)

Immortal Serial Killer in Prison

Theater Romance (flash fiction)

The Lady and the Knight (flash fiction)

Different (flash fiction)

[princesssarisa]

In the past I've shared other people's musings about the different interpretations of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Namely, why Orpheus looks back at Eurydice, even though he knows it means he'll lose her forever. So many people seem to think they've found the one true explanation of the myth. But to me, the beauty of myths is that they have many possible meanings.

So I thought I would share a list of every interpretation I know, from every serious adaptation of the story and every analysis I've ever heard or read, of why Orpheus looks back.

One interpretation – advocated by Monteverdi's opera, for example – is that the backward glance represents excessive passion and a fatal lack of self-control. Orpheus loves Eurydice to such excess that he tries to defy the laws of nature by bringing her back from the dead, yet that very same passion dooms his quest fo fail, because he can't resist the temptation to look back at her.

He can also be seen as succumbing to that classic "tragic flaw" of hubris, excessive pride. Because his music and his love conquer the Underworld, it might be that he makes the mistake of thinking he's entirely above divine law, and fatally allows himself to break the one rule that Hades and Persephone set for him.

Then there are the versions where his flaw is his lack of faith, because he looks back out of doubt that Eurydice is really there. I think there are three possible interpretations of this scenario, which can each work alone or else co-exist with each other. From what I've read about Hadestown, it sounds as if it combines all three.

In one interpretation, he doubts Hades and Persephone's promise. Will they really give Eurydice back to him, or is it all a cruel trick? In this case, the message seems to be a warning to trust in the gods; if you doubt their blessings, you might lose them.

Another perspective is that he doubts Eurydice. Does she love him enough to follow him? In this case, the warning is that romantic love can't survive unless the lovers trust each other. I'm thinking of Moulin Rouge!, which is ostensibly based on the Orpheus myth, and which uses Christian's jealousy as its equivalent of Orpheus's fatal doubt and explicitly states "Where there is no trust, there is no love."

The third variation is that he doubts himself. Could his music really have the power to sway the Underworld? The message in this version would be that self-doubt can sabotage all our best efforts.

But all of the above interpretations revolve around the concept that Orpheus looks back because of a tragic flaw, which wasn't necessarily the view of Virgil, the earliest known recorder of the myth. Virgil wrote that Orpheus's backward glance was "A pardonable offense, if the spirits knew how to pardon."

In some versions, when the upper world comes into Orpheus's view, he thinks his journey is over. In this moment, he's so ecstatic and so eager to finally see Eurydice that he unthinkingly turns around an instant too soon, either just before he reaches the threshold or when he's already crossed it but Eurydice is still a few steps behind him. In this scenario, it isn't a personal flaw that makes him look back, but just a moment of passion-fueled carelessness, and the fact that it costs him Eurydice shows the pitilessness of the Underworld.

In other versions, concern for Eurydice makes him look back. Sometimes he looks back because the upward path is steep and rocky, and Eurydice is still limping from her snakebite, so he knows she must be struggling, in some versions he even hears her stumble, and he finally can't resist turning around to help her. Or more cruelly, in other versions – for example, in Gluck's opera – Eurydice doesn't know that Orpheus is forbidden to look back at her, and Orpheus is also forbidden to tell her. So she's distraught that her husband seems to be coldly ignoring her and begs him to look at her until he can't bear her anguish anymore.

These versions highlight the harshness of the Underworld's law, and Orpheus's failure to comply with it seems natural and even inevitable. The message here seems to be that death is pitiless and irreversible: a demigod hero might come close to conquering it, but through little or no fault of his own, he's bound to fail in the end.

Another interpretation I've read is that Orpheus's backward glance represents the nature of grief. We can't help but look back on our memories of our dead loved ones, even though it means feeling the pain of loss all over again.

Then there's the interpretation that Orpheus chooses his memory of Eurydice, represented by the backward glance, rather than a future with a living Eurydice. "The poet's choice," as Portrait of a Lady on Fire puts it. In this reading, Orpheus looks back because he realizes he would rather preserve his memory of their youthful, blissful love, just as it was when she died, than face a future of growing older, the difficulties of married life, and the possibility that their love will fade. That's the slightly more sympathetic version. In the version that makes Orpheus more egotistical, he prefers the idealized memory to the real woman because the memory is entirely his possession, in a way that a living wife with her own will could never be, and will never distract him from his music, but can only inspire it.

Then there are the modern feminist interpretations, also alluded to in Portrait of a Lady on Fire but seen in several female-authored adaptations of the myth too, where Eurydice provokes Orpheus into looking back because she wants to stay in the Underworld. The viewpoint kinder to Orpheus is that Eurydice also wants to preserve their love just as it was, youthful, passionate, and blissful, rather than subject it to the ravages of time and the hardships of life. The variation less sympathetic to Orpheus is that Euyridice was at peace in death, in some versions she drank from the river Lethe and doesn't even remember Orpheus, his attempt to take her back is selfish, and she prefers to be her own free woman than be bound to him forever and literally only live for his sake.

With that interpretation in mind, I'm surprised I've never read yet another variation. I can imagine a version where, as Orpheus walks up the path toward the living world, he realizes he's being selfish: Eurydice was happy and at peace in the Elysian Fields, she doesn't even remember him because she drank from Lethe, and she's only following him now because Hades and Persephone have forced her to do so. So he finally looks back out of selfless love, to let her go. Maybe I should write this retelling myself.

Are any of these interpretations – or any others – the "true" or "definitive" reason why Orpheus looks back? I don't think so at all. The fact that they all exist and can all ring true says something valuable about the nature of mythology.

[gale-dekarios]

okay, no shade, but youre missing out on SO much good characters moments if your girlbossify the bg3 women too much. i get it, they're big, strong, badass, but they are, like all bg3 companions, incredibly cringe in their own ways that i think we could stand to appreciate more.

lae'zel throws the worlds biggest meltdown anytime you do anything not directly related to the githyanki creche, only to almost get her shit immediately rocked. lae'zel on modern day stan twitter would be a shitshow and you cant convince me otherwise. and thats before we even mention her fighting you in act two and then immediately crying about it. babygirl its okay, we were only playing. AND TRYING TO KISS HER IN PUBLIC?? she acts big and bad in act 1, fighting rough with you the entire time, but as soon as you ask her for a little kiss? immediate embarrassment. she could absolutely wreck my shit, but shes still a meow meow.

shadowheart is just fantasy catholic. she gets mad if you pick up a statue of selûne bc shes just that catholic. dyes her hair white in a desperate emo crisis of faith moment. recites smut in public. makes jokes that land incredibly flat. is acting way cooler and more chill than she actually is to hide the fact that shes scared. SHE CHOSE THE NAME SHADOWHEART. need i say more?

karlach may be cringe but she is free, i will give her this. she gets the zoomies. she almost blows up a firework shop with her in it because shes so excited. she has a teddy bear called clive. she hasnt read a book since secondary school. she does a little dancy dance if you leave her alone for too long. her inner monologue is just about how horny she is for most people. bisexual failgirl. i love her.

and then the biggest cringefail of them all, minthara. the fact that she absolutely cannot see that every companion at camp actually does grow to really like, love, and respect her bc shes expecting treachery (bc thats what SHE would have done) is as sad as it is just a liiiiittle bit funny. darling. my wife. people like and care about you. not to mention the fact that shes been poisoning you the entire time shes been travelling with you???? cant communicate for the life of her. regularly threatens to kill you but then gets mad if you die. emotionally stunted loserbabe. we will have a july wedding........

what im SAYING isnt that the girls ARENT badass and compotent and cool, what im SAYING is that the lads shouldnt have a monopoly on complexity and depth. you get me?

[alygator77]

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony - mlist ᰔ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎status. ongoing

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (it is emotional but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, note this is from naoya not satoru)

ꨄ︎ words: currently 67k

ꨄ︎ a/n. hello ya'll, my name is aly and if you read my fic thank you so much from the bottom of my heart! this story really hit the ground running, originally it was a request from a lovely anon ♡ and apparently i cannot write short fics for the life of me because it turned into something big lol, halp.. i'm unsure how many chapters it will have because i am just seeing where the inspiration takes me :') i will update tags/warnings as the story progresses. thanks for reading <3 (also this will have a happy ending)

ꨄ︎ taglist: closed (ao3)

ꨄ series tags #mhm #motherhood and matrimony

♬︎ playlist

ꨄ︎ chapters

ch 1 // circumstances and commitments

ch 2 // under the spotlight

ch 3 // fractured realities

ch 4 // shadows of doubt

ch 5 // a leap of faith

ch 6 // drenched in truth

ch 7 // pending..

[icekkeugf]

pairing: prof!heeseung x volleyball player!reader

genre: porn without much plot

warnings: heeseung is reader's professor but neither of them know that when they engage in sexual activity, slight dom!hee, kissing, cunnilingus against the wall, blowjob, boobjob, facial, use of the petname "pretty girl"

wordcount: 2,790 words

note: koko is back ~~~ i am not sure if this is up to mark but i really hope enhablr enjoys this! reblogs are much appreciated and so are comments/feedback! happy reading ♥︎ ~~~

it's raining, soft droplets sprinkling over your already wet skin, soaking in sweat as you huff, doubling over to place your palms over your knees. slippery, it is, palms sliding down the smooth of your knees as you try your best to contain your breath, composing yourself when you notice your teammates pass by. "so, y/n, excited for the shift into university?" your volleyball captain asks, prompting you to wince. this causes concern, her brow raising and her wrist lifting to rest on your shoulders, "not a good time?" she sympathises.

"just a bit scary, not too sure how i will mingle with the people there and if i will join a team as good as ours." you mutter, playing with your stretchable wristband. the girl laughs, patting your shoulder painfully hard with a smile, "hey, your university is known for its sports department! i wouldn't put it past me to find a well equipped club and carefully handpicked members. who knows, you might make it national!" she reasons, patting the top of your head with a crooked smile.

you try not to make eye contact with the man as he introduces himself and shares his email with the students for future assistance. however, when you look up to sneak a glance at him again, you see him staring right at you, wide eyed. you're fucked and not quite literally.

"say what, are you free tonight?" she asks, looking over at the other teammates with a sneaky smile. and when you look up dazed with a slight nod, she's dragging you over to seat you on the nearest bench. "i sent you a text, be there at 7! bye, y/n!" just like that, all your teammates trickle out the training ground, snickering amongst themselves to have finally caught you in a trap, always having refused to meet them outside training.

7:06PM. still waiting, feet nearly cramped up in those narrow toothed stilettos. bad idea to show up in stilettos after vigorous training? yes, but, the location your captain had forwarded had a strict dress code to adhere to this night. right as you bend over to adjust your heels, you're met with the vision of several pairs of similar looking stilettos. "there! early as always, our y/n, let's go in!" one of your teammates urges you inside a shady looking building.

you're met with instant chaos, loud and blaring music sinking into your eardrums, the bass making the floor vibrate and your heart thump in rhythm to the music. "stay right here, tia and i will get us all some drinks!" you're left by some of your other teammates you're not too close with, merely acquaintances that play volleyball together, you'd say. excusing yourself with a smile despite being met with "they asked us to wait here!", you shake your head, reassuring them you'll be fine and right back.

it's a few minutes later that you find yourself seated by the secluded island of what seems to be a kitchen. "a house party." you figure out, still unsure if you should've placed blind faith in your captain and teammates. "not your usual scene?" comes a voice prodding its way beside you. you jump, just a little, turning around to meet hazel brown eyes that crinkle mischief at you. the man before you is donning an all denim fit, it makes you wonder if he's not close to blushing red in this humidity but you let it pass. "not really. i assume this is your usual scene though." you quip back, the man before you throwing his head back in a silent giggle.

"heeseung." he extends his hand which you take a little hesitantly. it's not long after you exchange names that you find yourself introduced to heeseung's friends, all of them welcoming and sweet, out of which, jay confirms himself to be the party host. both heeseung and you don't stray too far into private lives of eachother, maybe that is what attracts you to him, the mystery. you can't deny that he is more than decent looking, plump pink lips, doe looking eyes that may otherwise fool you into thinking he carries this weirdly sinister vibe. a sharp jawline too, you're almost sure he knows he serves a face that women and men would line up for alike.

the attraction, though, is mutual. or so, heeseung convinces you to think as his fingertips meet your satin clad hips with ease and familiarity. he leads you towards the same secluded corner, "dance with me?" he asks and you oblige, not questioning why it has to be here, infact, you're glad it's here rather than in the midst of sweaty teenage bodies that are not yet ripe enough to enter parties like this. what snaps you back to reality is his hands, that need no permission as it follows a trail circling your hips, pulling you flush against his.

maybe it's the alcohol that heeseung offered before or maybe it's the intimate proximity you two keep dancing around but the heat in the air, whether the temperature or the tension, is palpable, almost shocking in a way that it sends hot sparks down your spine. resting your head against his shoulder, you wrap an arm around him, his warm, intoxicated breath fanning over your ears. no words exchanged, really, just the synced beating of your hearts and need to feel eachother up that finally has heeseung snapping.

exhaling shakily, you nod when he asks to take you somewhere else. he's gentle as he encloses your wrist in his palm, pulling you towards the stairs that was strictly prohibited for others. perks of being jay's best friend, you reckon. the moment you enter an unoccupied room, his lips are on yours before he pulls away in a jiffy, panic settling onto his face, "is that okay, y/n?" when you nod meekly, he shuts his eyes for just a second, muttering a "fuck" under his breath before he's pushing his lips onto yours and maneuvring your body behind until your backside meets the wall. "so pretty," he murmurs into the kiss.

you roll your hips involuntarily into his, it has heeseung gritting his teeth, jaw slack and eyes purely filled with desire. "just like that, baby, do that again—you listen so well to me, pretty girl." heeseung is sure he's rambling by now, oh, he definitely is as he tells you how to rut against him pathetically. the sultry lighting of the room only enhances your need for one another, you've never felt the urge to ravage someone like this before and you know you have to ravage heeseung before this night ends if you don't want to wake up the next morning with a guilty and regret filled heart.

he coaxes your lips to meet his again, this time the contact utterly messy and just downright filthy. you can almost taste the very remnants of his drink from earlier if you shoved your tongue down just a little deeper. meanwhile, heeseung is quick in feeling you up, pushing at your knees, "spread 'em, baby, that's it," he begs, instantly losing all self control and falling to his knees when you whine, asking him to ease the ache between your legs. "wider...there you go, atta girl." he praises, soft hands cupping your knees as his lashes flutter when he looks up at you.

with a lopsided grin, he hooks a finger at the hem of your dress, lifting it just enough for your panties to peek at him. he grunts at the little wet patch that dampens and soils the middle of your panties, leaning in to disgustingly sniff at it before licking once, twice, thrice, enough to taste you through the cotton. you're shaking, beyond control and unable to balance your body by yourself so you place your hands at his shoulders, pulling him needily into you as your back arches into the wall.

pushing your entire weight onto heeseung, who only groans as he ruts his increasingly evident boner into the ground, you hook your legs around his neck. he holds onto your thighs desperately, a whimper escaping his kiss swollen lips as his tongue slithers through the side of your panties to lick at your cunt. he delicately plants a kiss over your clit, making you shudder with a broken moan, as he finds his head heavy with the need to taste you, to make you cum. so, he does just that.

heeseung finds a comfortable pace at licking through your folds, dragging his wet muscle from side to side, then up and down. he repeats the action before nipping at your clit gently, soothing the prick with a prod of his tongue. "so sweet, just like honey, baby. that's it, you gon' cum for me?" he asks sweetly against your sopping pussy, nose glistening with your juices. "look at me, y/n, my pretty girl. want you to watch me as you come undone on my tongue, okay?" you struggle to open your eyes, nodding before you do anyway.

rapid strokes of his tongue have you unstable, shaking and withering under his touch while you try your best to keep your eyes open and in contact with his as he licks at you until no end. "say my name, baby, don't be shy. let me hear your pretty moans." you let a moan rip through the confines of your throat, rocking your hips messily against his face. "no, don't move." he hisses with a displeased smirk, shaking his head to show his disapproval. "let me do all the work, just sit and take it, got it?"

just like that, the ebbs of your orgasm crash against the little pebbles, rocking you through, only for heeseung to hold you still as he continues to devour you as you come down from your high. with a final suck of your clit, he parts from your cunt, face absolutely marred by your release. "good girl, did that feel good?" he coos, tapping at your thigh, signalling you to carefully put down your leg as he makes much effort to stand up.

when you nod, pulling him into another kiss, he chuckles, trapping you against the wall yet again. "yeah? in that case, shouldn't you return the favour?" he presses a few kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. "let me make you feel good, hee." you answer in words this time, making heeseung widen his eyes but he nods, eyeing the floor once before he looks up at you, "kneel." dropping to your knees, your fingers work quickly as they unzip his denim pants. a tent visible as you cup his clothed length, you lick your lips eagerly as you imagine feeling him fill up the entirety of your mouth.

you tug at his boxers, leaving it bunched up at his knees, immediately pressing a hasty kiss at the head of his veiny cock. you notice how it is curved at the tip, pink and angry. this forces heeseung to snake a hand into your hair, clutching the strands at the roots warningly, "don't tease, pretty girl, get on with it." he doesn't have to say it twice before you are nestling his cock in the home of your wet and warm cavern. you let it soak in there for a while, not attempting to please him just yet as you adjust to his size.

soon after, flattening your tongue, you hollow your cheeks as you start to set a steady rhythm into bobbing your head for him. licking at the underside, you ensure not an inch of his cock is left untouched by you, the part that doesn't fit in your mouth caressed by your soft hands. "just for me to ruin, fuck, yes!" heeseung is blessed, really, to have a girl truly attentive to his needs, the way he wants to be touched and pleased, repeating the actions that seems to make him teeter at the edge of his orgasm. lucky bastard!

right when you think you should fasten your pace to meet with his cum painting the insides of your mouth, heeseung abruptly pulls at your mouth, his now semi soft dick covered in your spit resting at your lips, "can i cum on your face, pretty girl?" with no answer, you unzip the back of your dress, letting it pool at your hips. unclasping your bra, you hold your tits up, motioning him to slide his cock in between. this causes heeseung to let out husky groan, trying not to bust right then. he loves the way you're so proactive, he can't help it!

he squirms from the sudden increase in stimulation as you use your tits as a makeshift fleshlight, wrapping it around his now hardening cock tightly as he fucks into the space you provide him. letting a sliver of your tongue peek out, you lick at his tip each time his cock almost lodges against your lips, instantly making him cum. he sucks in a sharp breath as he spills all of him that's worth, over your tits and the lower half of your face. pretty, he thinks, fingers unconsciously reaching for his phone.

"can i take a photo of you, pretty girl—" the door to the room the two of you are in is knocked upon fiercely, "heeseung, you in here, man?" upon hearing jay, heeseung scurries to bring out tissues from the bedside table, "yes, what's up?" in three swipes, he cleans you up, cursing when his finger is also stained by his release. before he could wipe it off, though, you bring up his cum glistening finger to your lips, tongue darting out to lick it clean. "fuck, you're gonna be the death of me!" he whispers, pressing an open mouthed kiss at your lips, tasting himself in the process. "niki has been throwing up nonstop, man, i can't find the others, hurry up, will you?" you two hear the receding footsteps of a rather pissy jay, laughing into eachother once you're sure he's gone.

easing into eachother, "can we do this again, y/n? i'd really like to fuck you open, if you'd let me." he asks, his brash words lighting up a reddened blush on your cheeks, "yes, i'd love that." before you could exchange numbers though, jay knocks yet again, an impertinent cockblock, you suppose. "i have to go—see you around?" you nod, smiling at heeseung who leans down to kiss your cheek. "see you around, heeseung."

you don't remember how you get home that night after having freshened up in the room's attached restroom. all you think of for the next few days is heeseung's lingering touches, his whines and soft exhales, the way his hips bucked into your touch when you sucked him right. safe to say that you haven't been able to contact him either, having used your god given stalking skills on instagram to no avail.

it's been a few weeks, having been busy with volleyball practice and packing to move to your campus dorm. now, it's d—day! there's cardboard boxes piled up, with two suitcases of yours filled to the brim with clothes you can't bring yourself to leave behind in your childhood home. after a tearful parting with your family, you find yourself cuffed with the seatbelt on and your bestfriend driving you to the university to help you move in. while you do have much unpacking to do, it is also your first day at university!

bidding goodbye to your friend once they had helped you get your boxes and suitcases in, you change your outfit for the first class, not wanting to be late. after a whirlwind of trying to find your class, which happens to be your homeroom hour, you settle into one of the desks in the spacious room. although it's just the first day, the room is still loud with whispers and chatters about the exciting life at university. the class, however, hushes at some point, and while you were preoccupied on your phone, you hear a familiar voice.

"goodmorning, guys! how has your first day been so far?" your heart races erratically in its place, unsure if you've just misplaced the voice and its owner or if you're really doomed. slowly looking up, you find yourself glancing at heeseung, who looks at his phone for a split second before he pays attention up front. he hasn't noticed you yet, smile just as charming as it was when he first greeted you. as if on cue, all the memories from a few weeks ago flood in to liven up the black of your mind.

you try not to make eye contact with the man as he introduces himself and shares his email with the students for future assistance. however, when you look up to sneak a glance at him again, you see him staring right at you, wide eyed. you're fucked and not quite literally.

all rights reserved to @/icekkeugf 2024! please do NOT steal/copy/translate my works.

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

[secretsofafangirll]

video star

summary: the time when Olivia appeared in a blind, deaf, mute baking video with the triplets and Matt couldn't keep his hands to himself.

warnings: touchiness in front of people/on camera, suggestive language, suggestive content, use of pet names.

a/n: the song doesn't have any significance, it just plays in o.c.'s headphones.

"Hey guys, welcome back to another Wednesday video," Nick blurted at the camera posed several feet in front of them, "Today we're doing another Deaf, Blind, Mute Baking Challenge."

"However," Chris butted in, sticking a mocking finger in the air, "We have a special guest for today's video," He drawled out and looked off to the side where I was standing. Matt was still leaning back against the counter and smiled at me.

"Come on out, sweetheart." Matt beckoned me over with a flick of his fingers and a nod of his head. I jumped into frame and smiled at the camera.

"Hi guys!" I waved enthusiastically and placed my hands on the counter in front of me.

"For those of you who don't know, Olivia is our best friend in the whole world and Matt's girlfriend. If you didn't know that, you've obviously never watched a video because she's in all of our vlogs and we never shut up about her." Nick summed up the basics for the viewers at home.

I've been friends with the triplets since my freshman year of high school. Chris and I instantly clicked one day in Math when our more extroverted personalities found their ways to one another. He introduced me to his two triplet brothers at lunch that same day, and the rest was history. We became inseparable and spent every second of every day together since. Things became interesting with Matt and me as we got older and grew into ourselves but we officially started dating after we graduated high school. We were always scared to announce our relationship to his fans because they can be volatile to their female friends, but once we did and they accepted that we loved each other, we've been so open and comfortable expressing that love physically on camera.

"So, how this is gonna work is..we're gonna draw out of a hat and three people are gonna be either blind, deaf, or mute and one person won't be able to use their hands. Let's hope that person isn't Olivia, because she's the only one of us that really can bake, like at all," Chris addressed the room and the camera.

"Dude, if I get fucking handcuffed, this is gonna be awful," I raised my brows and turned to Chris.

"Have a little faith, kid," Chris bumped my hip with his. I heard the car keys rattle on Matt's belt loop as he pressed himself away from the counter and came up behind me to wrap his arms around my neck. My hands subconsciously reached up to grip his muscular forearms.

"Alright, well, let's get the fuck on with it," Matt spoke.

"Okay, relax. We've been rolling for two fucking minutes." Nick stuck an accusatory hand up at Matt.

Nick reached around the counter for the hat and we all drew a card.

"Matt, you say yours first," Nick assigned.

"Mute," Matt chuckled, "Too easy."

"Deaf," I read aloud, "Yay! I just get to listen to music." I ran over to the couch and grabbed my headphones, working to connect them to my phone and find a playlist.

"Noo!," Chris whined, "Handcuffed."

"Loser", Nick teased.

"Which means that I am blind." Nick concluded, "Olivia wanted to bake something from scratch but that's a bit too hard for us, so we just got boxed brownies with, like, an extra cookie thing that we have to do too."

As Nick started to read off the contents of the box, I placed the headphones over my ears and pressed "shuffle" on Spotify. The first song to grace my ears was "B.Y.O.B" by System of a Down. A loud, scream-y nu-metal jam to deafen my sensitive ears. If I listened to anything too quiet, I'd be able to hear them. I watched as Matt tied the blindfold onto Nick and then Chris tied the bandana onto Matt. Matt then locked the handcuffs onto Chris' wrists behind his back.

I watched as the three of them tried to talk to each other, myself trying to read their lips and body language. I knew Matt well enough to know he was frustrated and Chris well enough to know he was giving Nick directions.

Quickly, when they started to struggle too much, they called me over. However, my eyes were closed as I mouthed the words to the song and I couldn't hear them.

"Everybody's going to the party have a real good time," I sang with Serj and wagged my finger to the Ooh.

What made me open my eyes was Matt pushing a hand against my lower back to guide me to the counter. The sudden jolt and touch startled me and I lurched forward, almost falling into the hard counter top face first. Matt's hand quickly shot and gripped my waist, pulling me back into him.

"Oh my God!" I yelped, my hands shooting out in front of myself to stop me before he did. He spun me around in his hands and I placed my extended hands on his chest, "Thank you!" I yelled, unaware of my volume. He just pressed a finger to my lips to tell me to be quieter. I whispered a faint apology in return.

I looked over to Chris who was probably spewing some bullshit at us about how cheesy we are, seeing as how his left cheek flexed up slightly in annoyance. Matt ushered me over to the counter where they handed me the box to try and fix what they already messed up. I took one look at the batter and knew they added too much oil.

"Okay," I started, "I think you guys just put too much oil, but it's not hard to fix. I just need a dehydrator like flour or cornstarch to dry out the oil." I turned around to grab the flour from the cabinets that I stock for them, because if I didn't they'd either starve or waste all of their money on eating out.

Due to my shorter stature, I had to stand on my tip toes and stretch the life out of my arms to reach the flour. Matt came up behind me and placed a hand on my side to tell me to relax and he reached up and grabbed it for me. I thanked him before turning around and continuing to mix the brownies, Matt's front just brushed my back the whole time as he watched over my shoulder, his hand resting gently on my hip.

Once I was done with the brownies, I needed to grab a bowl for the cookie part. I wasn't planning on making it, since it's supposed to be a challenge, but I still grabbed the equipment needed. I bent down in front of Matt to grab a smaller bowl from the cabinet below the island. When I leaned over, I didn't realize two things; one, how close I was to Matt and what he wouldn't be able to resist doing when he noticed the position we were in, two, how it would look on camera.

Both of Matt's hands found my hips when I unexpectedly stuck my ass into the air right in front of his dick and he subconsciously pressed himself a tiny bit further into me. Soon, his hand left my hip and it braced itself on the counter above my head so that I wouldn't hit the counter when I got back up.

"Okay, so you guys need to do this, because this is supposed to be your guys' challenge." I started clearly over the sound of Evanescence’s "Going Under”. I sang the words under my breath as I turned away to let them do what they needed to do. I hopped up onto the counter behind them and enjoyed my music as I watched them yell at each other.

At least I thought they were yelling at each other...

Turns out they were yelling at me to preheat the oven that I was sitting next to. I watched as Matt stepped closer to me. He placed his hands on my thighs and nodded to the oven dials. I quickly understood and turned the dial to 350 degrees. Matt's eyes darted all across my face and down my body that was only clothed in shorts and a tank top due to the intense Los Angeles heat. I knew exactly what look he was giving me and it was killing him that he couldn't kiss me.

"Later," I mouthed to him and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He dropped his head to my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulder to squeeze him into me.

Soon after, the brownies had made it out of the oven safely and we were all stripped of our sense-depriving shackles. I was kind of disappointed to be done with the music, but I missed hearing my favorite boys talk.

"Okay, the brownies are done and they look fine," Nick began to the camera, "But we did fuck them up a little bit, so hopefully Olivia's fix was okay."

"Bro, she's literally a professional chef at this point, I'm sure they're still gonna be great," Chris said matter-of-factly. Nick began to cut the brownies, which they should've baked on parchment paper, and got a piece for all of us. He slid it in front of me and we all tried a bite. They still tasted great and they looked like boxes.

"Obviously, if it were up to me, we wouldn't have boxed anything, but for a boxed brownie mix," Matt came up and hugged me from behind and my hands fell to his that wrapped around me, "I would give this is a solid 8 out of 10." I said giving a thumbs up with the camera.

When they had all given their notes and feedback, they said goodbye to the camera and turned it off.

"You guys need to practice a little something called self-control, you horny fucks," Said Nick as he shook his head and took down the filming equipment. 

"Shut the fuck up, Nick," Matt spat as he pulled me closer, "Hi, my girl. D'you have fun?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I pulled back slightly and leaned up to kiss his lips, "Mhm. I always have fun filming with you guys." I smiled up at his stunning face.

"What'd you listen to?" He asked, pulling away from the hug to reach over and grab a cup from the cabinet, but keeping a hand on my waist. I turned to watch him as he got what he needed.

"I listened to System of a Down and Evanescence. I wish that, like, Nirvana or something came on though." I sighed and looked down for a moment before focusing my attention back on him.

"S'nice. I need to branch out, broaden my musical horizons," He said as he filled his cup with water from the fridge.

"And your kitchen horizons, because, my God, you guys suck at baking." I teased exasperatedely.

"Hey, watch yourself," He tutted, "They suck at baking, I, on the other hand, can whip up a good dessert."

"Alright, mister, I bought already-been-smoked salmon and tried to cook it anyway, Sturniolo." I accused, rolling my eyes jokingly.

"Oh, yeah? You want to play it that way?" He smiled smugly and slowly stepped toward me, setting his water down on the kitchen island.

I backed away in response and put my hands up in defense, "I'm not playing anything. M'just sayin' it how it is. S'not my fault your egos too big."

"You little-," He cut himself off and reached for me. A high-pitched yelp escaped my mouth as I dodged his hand and I backed away from him before running to his bedroom. I might be more agile than him, but his legs are much longer than mine. He caught up to me as I was trying to slam his door shut, and he stopped the door before I could close it. He swooped in quickly, picked me up, and tossed me onto the bed, kicking the door shut somewhere in between.

"Matt!" I giggled, as I sat up, bracing my hands behind me. He crawled onto the bed in front of me and shoved my chest back down.

"Those brownies might have been good," He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss right below my ear, "But I know you're gonna taste even better," He whispered into my ear and began to trail a path of open-mouthed kisses down my neck...

//

author's note: alright...how'd we like it? I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I wanted to put something out. I liked the concept but I'm unsure of how it turned out. let me know what you guys think.

all the love, she <3

[zaldritzosrose]

Make Me Want To Sin (Aegon x Betrothed!Reader)

Summary: He'd heard it so often, it must be true. "It's still innocent if our clothes stay on". And Aegon has every intention of living by that, especially with a betrothed as beautiful as you.

(Thank you to @lynnbeth5172 for sending me the most Aegon coded tweet ever!)

TW: She/Her pronouns, afab reader, dry humping, fingering, mentions of loss of virginity, innuendo, profanity, Aegon being himself.

Words: 1743

No beta because I like living on the edge!

Aegon counted himself lucky. Not only had his betrothed been chosen for him, but marriage had also never been something he’d sought out himself. But his mother had chosen someone beautiful. One of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, he’d wager, and Aegon had see a lot of women.

You were a lady of a Great House, as expected. His marriage was never going to be one of love and romance, Aegon knew that. He was a prince after all. Though romance wasn’t really his forte, he had to admit it.

Pleasure. That’s where his expertise lay, in his own opinion. And you were sweet and chaste. A follower of the Faith, nothing more could be expected from someone chosen for him by his mother. Of course, she’d want someone like that.

Aegon, however, found every excuse to tease and tempt you.

“Come now, my dear, I have heard it said time and time again,” Aegon cooed, his fingers linking with yours as you walked the gardens, “As long as we remain clothed, it is all innocent.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d tried this. Stolen kisses in secluded hallways were one thing, but you’d had it ingrained into you that you needed to remain pure for your wedding. Meaning, of course, no intimacy. But Aegon was determined. He knew, from the way you’d sigh his name whenever he’d touch you a little more intimately or kiss you a little harder, that you wished for it as much as he did.

But you were a far less sinful person than he was.

“And I have told you, it is tradition for a betrothed couple to wait until their wedding night.” You answered, not hiding the roll of your eyes.

Four months you had been betrothed and Aegon was insatiable. But never forceful. Something that had surprised you, based on the stories you’d heard. And maybe, that was what slowly broke your resolve. Not that he knew it was breaking.

Two week until your wedding, that was all that remained. But Aegon seemed even more impatient. You took it as a compliment, of course. Or at least, he would tell you that you should. That he was so hopelessly attracted to you that he couldn’t wait a moment longer to have you.

Each compliment, each lingering touch, each flirtatious whisper in your ear at dinner, was breaking down your wall more and more. And Aegon knew it.

When you didn’t chastise him for the way his hand now rested on your silk covered thigh at dinner, he knew he was getting closer to his goal. He wanted you to want him as he did you.

His fingers squeezed at your flesh ever so slightly, watching as the pink flush crept up your chest and higher to your cheeks. But you didn’t ask him to stop, as you usually did. Aegon took a little confidence in that, slowly drifting his hand higher until he stopped short of the apex of your thighs. Inches from where he wanted to be the most.

“Aegon…” you warned, and he simply flashed you that smile you had grown to love.

His hand remained where it was for the rest of the dinner, but he knew he could get a little further next time.

It was a week until your wedding now and your willpower was almost at its end. It seemed like now, everything Aegon did in your presence was arousing. And he could see it. How your eyes would linger on his hands when they held his wine cup, or on his lips when he spoke. He had you, almost.

Aegon was sat in the library with Aemond, though the younger prince was the only one reading. Aegon came here because you enjoyed it and spending time with you was what he enjoyed. The corner you had chosen was quiet and as Aemond wandered away in search of something else to read, Aegon saw his opportunity.

With a gentle pull, he tugged you from your chair to his lap, revelling in the small squeak of surprise you let out.

“Aemond could return any moment...” you whispered, trying desperately to ignore Aegon’s hand on your shin, trailing a path beneath the fabric of your gown.

Aegon only hummed in response. He couldn’t care less if Aemond returned, his only focus was you. Knowing he wouldn’t let you go anytime soon, you tried to return to your book. But the words were nonsense as Aegon’s hand dipped between your thighs, toying with the fabric of your smallclothes.

“Aegon, here? Really?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly as his fingertips dipped beneath the undergarment.

Again, you only got a hummed response, as Aegon’s lips found the sliver of exposed skin at your shoulder. As if on instinct, your head tilted, giving him more access to your body. You could feel him beneath you, the hard length of him pressing against your backside. You knew you shouldn’t, but it was getting more of a challenge to resist.

“Do I make you want to sin, my lady?” Aegon whispered, his voice taking on the low tone that always had you shivering.

His words sent a rush of heat down your spine, pooling between your legs. And you knew he could feel it, his fingers slipping your smallclothes aside.

“If our clothes stay on, it is innocent, that is what you said?” you asked, repeating the words he’d said time and time again.

Aegon grinned into your neck. He had you and the time he’d waited now was worth it.

“Yes, my sweet girl, that is how it works.” His voice was soft in your ear, but his words had you whimpering, combined with the slow movements of his fingers against your pearl.

Aegon wanted to feel you, just a little something to sate him before your wedding night. Something to tempt you, prepare you for what was to come.

His hand delved deeper, a single digit slipping between your folds now. The groan he let out as your heat enveloped his finger was near sinful. He’d pictured this, time and time again alone in his room. But nothing would compare to actually feeling you. The slick heat of your arousal that was already dripping onto his skin. His own cock pulsed against your backside, and he couldn’t help but grind his hips up into you. He needed more.

“Oh…Aegon..” your voice was like music to his ears. The library was quiet at this time, but he captured your lips and swallowed your moans. Just in case. He couldn’t afford to be caught now.

He sped up, slipping another finger inside and rolling his thumb against your pearl. Your head falling to his shoulder, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you felt a tight knot in your stomach. Aegon could feel it, you were so very close, and he wanted to see you come apart for him.

And it didn’t take long. He curled his fingers inside you, chewing on his lip as he felt your muscles clench and hold him inside. And only seconds later, the most delicious moan of his name fell from your lips, thighs closing around his wrist as you peaked.

“That’s it. You are so very beautiful when you come, my lady…” Aegon purred, slowing his movements until he stopped.

Your head rested against his shoulder, your breath coming out as pants as you came down from your high. You’d never felt anything quite like it, but the way Aegon’s hand continued to squeeze at your body, you knew he wasn’t done with you.

With practised moves, he maneuvered you to straddle him, bunching your gown just high enough to expose the flesh of your thighs. The new position sent a shot of pleasure up your spine and you instinctively rolled your hips against him.

“You are insatiable, my prince,” you mused, Aegon’s hands now rested on your waist, urging you to move again.

Aegon only chuckled, the feel of your body against his knocking all thoughts from his head. This was what he’d imagined, what he’d wanted. And now he had it, he didn’t know where to begin. Something about the way you looked at him now, chest still heaving ever so slightly. Skin flushed from your peak. You had never looked more beautiful.

“Still innocent…” he mumbled, bucking his hips up against you as he helped you roll your hips.

His lips found yours, hands slipping from your waist to your backside. You could tell by the way he held you tight, kiss messy and rough, that he was close to his own end. And you’d be damned if you didn’t please him as he had you.

You braced yourself against the back of the armchair, trying to keep your movements as fluid as possible. And the groans that left Aegon’s lips told you were doing something right. The feel of his cock pulsing and twitching under his breeches felt better than you could ever imagined. It wasn’t long before his grip became bruising, slamming his hips up into you, chasing the friction despite the clothing between you.

His face glistened a little from the exertion, hair sticking to his skin. Your lips found his jaw, as they had many times when your past kisses had got heated. But this time was different. Your teeth nipped his skin as the rut of his hips hit your core in just the right rhythm to have you peaking again.

“Yes, fuck…” Aegon was lost to pleasure now and feeling you peak again was enough to have him following with his own. With the last few ruts of his hips, his head fell back against the chair and his eyes closed.

Both of you sat quietly. You’d expected to feel ashamed, like you’d done something you shouldn’t have. And yet looking at your betrothed, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from your kisses, you felt both satisfied and proud.

The silence was only broken when Aegon chuckled, a deep sound that had your head tilting in confusion.

“I knew I would tempt you,” he smiled, pulling you down for any other kiss.

You smiled into it, relishing the slight hiss he gave when your hips pushed down against his. Your thoughts wandering to exactly how your upcoming wedding night would be.

“You were right,” you whispered, lips brushing against his.

“You do make me want to sin.”

Taglist: @valeskafics @nyrasproblm @alexagirlie @targaryen-dynasty

[kitten4sannie]

ateez and corruption kinks… that’s it I just had to let that out into the void

communion

pairing: priest! yunho x nun! reader (fem)

summary: priest jeong wishes to share another communion with the most beloved member of the monastery.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: for the love of god (lol) if sacrilegious smut isn’t your thing do NOT read this,, however if it IS wellll i got something good for you <3, wine drinking, but like, in an unconventional way lmao, nasty perverted dom! yuyu, subby cock hungry! reader (can we blame her tho?), implied sex slave training, oral (giving/receiving), deepthroating, finger sucking, cum eating, implied toy usage (the toy is um….well…a religious object…)

a/n: oh nonnie idt you realize what you’ve unleashed with that ask ^^ there’s nothing i love more than corruption 🖤 physical, emotional, psychological ughhhh,,, anyways writers block and some shitty real life stuff have been taking turns beating me up the past couple months so i thought this might be a good escape for me :3 i hope you enjoy <33

p.s: i’ll be posting two more fics with a corruption theme very soonnn,, one features perverted bsf wooyoung and the other involves frat boy sannie 🫶🏼

song rec: take me to church - hozier (i mean come on….)

No matter how dark the communal church grew in the late hours of the night, the bright light of the moon still shone through the fragmented mosaic glass, now casting a myriad of gleaming crosses across your face and body as you sat on your knees upon the altar. You raised your hands up to begin worshipping your Lord in the way you were taught by Father Jeong, gingerly opening his robes to unveil the point of your focus.

Yunho lifted up a ceremonial bell and rung it once, his robes pooling around his feet, watching as your thighs squeezed tightly together underneath your heavy garments, your shaky exhale fanning over his exposed, twitching cock, finding the unyielding look of pure lust inside your eyes to be so beautiful he could shed a tear. Over the many, many communions you’ve shared together, it seemed that the bell reminded you of your loyalty to him and to your shared savior, of the pleasure you shared all in the name of God.

He pushed your veil off to expose your hair, before he placed his large hands on either side of your head, his long, slender fingers wrapping securely around it. “And, what do we say now, Sister L/N?” he asked softly, as though he were testing you, dragging his tongue over his top set of teeth, letting out a few heavy breaths.

“O’ Lord, for which I am about to receive, is truly your most precious Body and your life-giving blood, which, I pray, makes me worthy to receive for the remission of all my sins and for everlasting life,” you recited your prayer like many times before, the wetness between your thighs everlasting, watching Father Jeong let go of your head for a second to pick up a chalice of wine from the ceremony table behind him.

Yunho held the gold chalice just above his waist, growing that much harder as the dark liquid began to pour down his long, curved length, spilling off of his sticky tip and dripping into your open mouth. “The Blood of Christ…” He watched you swallow it all down, like the obedient servant you were. Something this sinful simply had to be holy, didn’t it? He swallowed down the abundant saliva that filled his mouth. “Ahh?” he voiced, like he was waiting for you to say something.

“Amen,” you sighed out, licking the remnants of wine and pre-cum from your lips, your trembling fingers clasping around his bare hips.

“Amen.”

Yunho then thrusted forward until he hit the back of your parched throat, eagerly dragging you back and forth along his sizable cock, using you like the faithful cocksleeve you were, the repetitive sounds of squelching, gagging, and muffled moaning sending delightful shivers down his spine, much like the sacred hymns did to him every morning during mass. “Sister L/N, your throat has molded to the shape of my cock, has it not? Bonding with me all these long nights, over and over, it’s like you were made for me, and only me. Tell me, Sister, does taking the Body of Christ down your throat make you feel closer to God?”

You let out a stunted, pleased moan, blinking a few tears out of your dazed, half closed eyes, watching as a blurry version of Father Jeong brought his rosary up to his lips to kiss it. Due to being trained so consistently, you knew to relax your jaw and throat in order to take all of him without fail, your gag reflex nonexistent, simply drooling all over his long, heavy cock instead, much to Yunho’s delight.

“Oh, God, let His will be done….” He hunched over slightly, in order to pound himself into the back of your throat over and over, thick strands of pre-cum and saliva dripping from your chin and landing onto your previously pristine garments, his fingers closing in around your bulging throat to feel himself moving inside it. It was simply too much for the priest to handle. “So…nnngh–sovereign, so pure, this divinity…” Yunho expressed between heavy pants, suddenly pulling out until his twitching cockhead rested against your splayed out tongue. “Sister L/N, you must show me something heavenly so that I may fill you with the Holy Spirit. Be quick, for I am at my limit…”

Licking the beads of pre-cum from his slit, you began to lift up the layers of your tunic until your bare cunt glistened underneath the moonlight that was casted over you like a spotlight, the edges of your skin glowing as though you were a real life angel, one that was sent down from above to tempt Yunho, especially now that he could see you in your most vulnerable state. “Father Jeong, please see what I’ve done for you. I’ve kept myself full…so that I may take you inside properly…”

It was then that Father Jeong fell to his knees before you, looking up at the slick heaven in between your thighs, before leaning in to lap up the abundant wetness from your lips, his hot tongue practically melting against your cunt as he ate you out like a starved man, spreading your open with his ringed thumbs. Maintaining steady eye contact with you, he slowly pulled the hood of your clit back to expose your weak point, wrapping his plush lips around it as he began to suck and lick until he had you trembling above him, your nails digging into the dense wood of the pews. “Cum before me,” he commanded, dragging his tongue along your fluttering slit up to your throbbing clit until you let out a beautifully broken cry.

You spread your trembling thighs open just enough to allow what was filling you up the entire time to slowly come sliding out, both you and the priest letting out a similar gasp once it did. A thick, slick-covered silver cross landed inside Yunho’s open palm. He watched diligently as you lifted it up to his mouth, not even having to say anything as he sucked it clean. Without exchanging words, Yunho stood back and squeezed his throbbing cock, just as you lowered yourself back down onto your knees with a loving smile, watching with pride as he began to shudder, long spurts of his hot cum landing onto your tongue and disappearing down your throat.

“What a thing of beauty….” The priest swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. “You never fail to bring me close to our Savior, my dear,” he praised, reaching down to rub the remaining remnants of his seed over your swollen lips and onto your tongue with his thumb, pulling it away from your mouth and licking the last of his saltiness off of his digit himself.

“It’s all for the greater good,” you softly replied, slowly standing up and hiking up your now soiled garments, so that you could bend over the pew, spreading yourself wide, opening the gates of your heaven and giving Yunho access like every blissful night before. “Now, please allow me to bring you even closer.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

tags: @beomgyuspeach @breadpuddingboys @lucid-galaxys-world @mitchii @bvidzsoo @londonbridges01 @khjoongie98 @kyeos4ng @ane102 @jintastic-yuyu @laqueama-hwa

general tags: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cosmiczen @choerryge @arusio @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @purplechannie @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @chanst1ddies @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @bls-luv-me @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @eastleighsblog @singularity777 @san-realblkwife @kawennote09 @feuille-et-pain @slut4hwa @owjohny @hijeongguk @lilramennoodle @leo-seonghwa @staytinydegenerate @greenymar @baguette-atiny

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[emperorundying]

TLT Dash Simulator pt 3

🪦 crossedrhodes Follow

just found out my gf died 7 months ago and ive been being catfished by some necromancer using her beguiling corpse i hope the devils get me

💊 heptanary-secretary Follow

omg imagine the meetcute tho... op talk to the necro

🐮 hucowjimin Follow

OP has powerful necro baddies in his area and is abt to fumble due to the grief

( 577 notes )

🦴 femur-i-hardly-know-er Follow

( 18,012 notes )

🗝️ darkjackgaius Follow

my horny ass could never be a flesh magician

🗝️ darkjackgaius Follow

easy website.

( 41,902 notes )

💣 fuckable-fascists-bracket Follow

📜 sarpedonefang1rl Follow

and whos fucking surprised. of course the recency bias strikes again

⚜️ awes-ashtray

Some1 is angry their old man bias is unfuckable 💀💀💀 Argue with the wall.

#a vote for awe is a vote against coquetteposters #the fact that therez an entire fandom for the weirdo oldhead fascies is soooo craz to me ngl. #we r voting on most fuckable here. that is da blogs point. #your blorbo is geriatric his dick dont work :(

( 6,192 notes )

🐱 cohortcatgirl Follow

I’ve seen a lot of bad information circulating about what happens when the cohort converts a thalergenic planet to a thanergy planet so I wanted to clear up some misconceptions ^u^

Converting a planet does NOT make it unable to sustain life. If thanergenic planets couldn't sustain life, no1 would be able to live on the nine houses!!!

The wildlife does NOT get mutated. How would that even work? I stj people they don't hurt the wildlife, they only affect the planets! The 'varmints have best friends' campaign is honestly just in bad faith :((

Devils are NOT real and if they were you should really stop posting about their tongues [weird!] U guys really cannot tell what is and isn't fearmongering these days and itz kind of concerning ngl

Keep reading

💀 towerofficial ☑️

worth a read :)

🐱 cohortcatgirl Follow

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

#HAIII MR UNDYING :3

(9,114 notes )

⛓️ siphonslut

being held down by my bone magician's constructs is something spiritual fr. skeledoms there is a special place for you in the emperor's eyes 😩😩😩

#nsft #c4n #cav4necro #osseoromantic

( 241 notes )

👤 is-the-emperor-undying-dead-yet-deactivated-2917483

nope.

💀 towerofficial ☑️

It's in the name how are you guys not getting this by now

👤 is-the-emperor-undying-dead-yet-deactivated-2917483

💀 towerofficial ☑️

mods can we ban this guy

( 12,187 notes )

[minkieater]

luck → jyh 🂡

“if you are unsure on who is going to win, always bet on yunho.”

p. jeong yunho x fem!reader g. borderline yandere!yunho, non idol au w. alcohol consumption, smut minors dni PLS, cheating, stalking, yunho's fucking crazy wc. 7.7k

♫ —vermillion, slipknot “my dahlia bathed in possession, she is home to me.” 

his right hand completely enveloped two dainty, fragile wrists connected to two perfectly manicured hands, pinned above a very beautiful fucked out face. the french tips stared back at him as he lost himself fully, buried deep inside someone he most certainly should not of been. as he reaches the hilt of his pleasure, he lets it rush through him, consume him for that stolen moment of freedom before it drags him down all the same. 

he retracts his hand as he pulls out, taking a breath, but no time to waste, he has someone waiting at home for him, after all.

 the sweat is wiped off his forehead and his pants are zipped up before she could come down herself. it never really bothered him much, the cheating thing, but then again, he never really thought twice about it. he’s always done what he’s wanted, he’s never had any reason not to. 

he knows if she found out it’d be the end of their picture perfect relationship, and as inconvenient that situation would be, it makes the doing all the much more exhilarating. 

his heart is never fuller than when he’s with her, that pretty little thing. standing at a petite five foot something, her head reaches just the tip of his shoulder. it makes him feel powerful with his over six foot build, towering over her, having to bend at the hips to steal a quick kiss on her always glossed lips. 

she was perfect to him, perfect for him, but yet he couldn’t let go of sinking himself into anyone that looked at him with a twinkle in their eye. she’s smart, funny, thoughtful, attentive, and overall just sweet. but he loved the attention, loved the adoration, he loved to feel loved. wanted, lusted, appreciated — sometimes one person’s captivation just isn’t enough. it was never enough for yunho. 

he had the same routine whenever he did it, his little addiction: find his toy for the night, leave the bar, have a quick fuck, hurry back to the bar, cover his tracks, get home. 

even the nights she was at the bar he’d sometimes make it work, the logistics of it are all his genius, but he’d do it and he’d do it well — she would never question a thing. no one got his number, no one got his full name if they didn’t already know it, and no one expected to see jeong yunho again after that one quick half an hour, if that, spent with him. somehow, all the odds were forever in his favor.

that was, of course, until he met you. 

everything he thought he knew about his relationship, everything he thought he felt about his sweet little girlfriend, this perfect system that he’d created for himself, all of that went straight in the shitter the second you batted your eyelashes at him the first time. 

she was at home, sleeping soundly, which he was sure of because she had a shift early the next morning, he was out with a few of his friends after a long night of studying. she never waited up for him, never questioned who he was out with, she had full and utter faith in him. which, essentially, was her downfall. 

four beers and two shots deep, his waist was bent over the bar for yet another beer, no longer seated on the stool at the table with his friends. across the bar, he saw you, and the room went silent for a moment. beautiful face, perfect build, everything he looked for in a woman. he knew exactly who his target was tonight, and you knew it, too. but you didn’t find that out until later. 

you were preoccupied, talking to one of his friends, actually. you had full intentions of trying to take that husky, tall, blonde haired man home with you that night, yunho could read it all over your face. that couldn’t happen, that won’t happen. 

mingi would understand, right? he needed mingi to understand. he wanted you. he needed you. 

he waited until he got his beer, he even took notice of the bottle in your grasp and bought you another, too. he made his way around the bar, a predator stalking his prey, strides fluid and smooth like a snake preparing to attack. 

“you do know that you’re not supposed to take drinks from strangers, right?” you look to him with an eyebrow raised, and he knew then and there he was fucked. glossy lips, hair done to perfection, dress perfectly clinging to your curves — he wished he could cut straight to the point, snap his fingers and he could skip the build up and sheer work it took to get you where he wanted you. 

“who said we were strangers?” the same eyebrow lifts on his own face, smirk taking a now permanent seat on his lips, clinking his beer with yours in cheers. fortunately for him, game was his forte, mingi had to know he was a goner already. 

“i guess we don’t have to be,” you finished off your previous beer at the same time he did, trading it for the new one he brought, “this is the yunho you mentioned, huh, mingi?” 

“yeah, yeah, this is yunho,” mingi nods and his cheeks flush, out of embarrassment or annoyance, yunho wasn’t sure. he wished he felt worse for completely dogging his friend’s play, but when it comes to this, came to you, yunho physically could not hold himself back. 

“and who are you? since you know everything about me already,” that cocky smirk won't leave his face, and you’re not hiding that it’s driving you insane. good, just how he wants you. curious, interested, maybe even craving. easy. 

you introduce yourself, shifting your weight from one heeled foot to the other, “dunno everything about you, but can’t say i wouldn’t like to find out more.” 

check mate. mingi takes this as his cue to turn on his heel, bidding both of you goodnight. yunho would have to call him tomorrow, give him a proper apology. 

an hour later he had you on your back at a nearby motel, barreling inside of you like it was the last thing he’d ever do. when he gets into these situations, he’s never one to play nice, never sticks around, a big hit it and quit it type of guy, but what can he say? he’s got a beautiful woman waiting for him at home. 

but that night … that night he had the most intriguing woman he’d ever encountered beneath him. he even made you cum first, not something he usually tries to do, never a goal for each person on his list despite not a single one leaving his presence unsatisfied. seeing you across the bar was the prologue to the novel you were about to write together, sweat and spit the pen and paper. 

he couldn’t leave you that night. he knew he should’ve went home to her, he knew he should’ve gotten your last name, he knew he should’ve at least used a condom. but he didn’t. 

the first time he saw you, he knew he should’ve stayed the fuck away, knew he should’ve kept his routine consistent, he knew you’d be the one to send his head into a spiral. jeong yunho knew a lot of things, he’s a smart guy, but greed sits at the top of the list of his flaws, and you brought out the worst in him. 

maybe he needed a little bit of humbling, a wake up call of sorts, but the last thing he expected was waking up to the bed empty, a ghost of your figure laying next to him, the sweet smell of your perfume and sweat lingering in the cheap cotton. 

the worst of it all, he hasn’t seen you since. 

which brings him to two weeks later, where he emptied himself in yet another woman who looks like she could be your distant cousin, maybe a good friend that ever so slightly resembles you. maybe he’s just been looking for you in every single cervix he’s touched since that night. 

on the ride home, his brain is elsewhere, as it’s been after every single hook up he’s had since you. when he gets home and his pretty little girlfriend is waiting for him, he can’t bring himself to question why she’s awake, not when she’s pecking kisses all over his face, telling him how much she’s missed him. completely oblivious, a small part of him thinks she’s fucking ignorant for it. 

he knows what’s to come. if he keeps going down this road it’s only a matter of time before his feelings toward her turn resentful, he gets meaner, she gets insecure, he gets aggravated. he can see it play out in his mind, yet he’s indifferent. with her, without her, he doesn’t care. all he wants is to see you again.

if he could, he’d have no need for the girlfriend that waits up for him after the bar. no requisite for her making his lunches, washing his hair, doing his laundry, unzipping his pants after a stressful day. yunho wishes he could love his girlfriend the way he always had, but the truth is, the first time you sunk your teeth into him ruined any future he had with her. 

a month later, he saw your friend again. the one from that night who stood by, observing, looking through yunho like he was transparent, naked to the human eye. across that same bar, he couldn’t contain his surprise, couldn’t stop himself from widening his eyes or dropping his jaw. an invitation, an opportunity, an answer for his questions, first being where the hell have you been? when will he see you again? did you mention anything about him? did you at least admit he was a good fuck? he’s bursting at the seams with impatience, heart pounding so hard against his broad chest he could hear it. 

she didn’t give him much, not that he went about it in an inconspicuous way. pestering her with questions, pushing for answers, trying his best to seem interested but not flat out creepy. it didn’t work very well. he couldn’t contain his excitement, his urgency, his yearning, she could see straight through him once again. he was off his game. 

what she did give him was your last name, a common last name which was surprisingly a nickname for you used more often than not. she didn’t even notice the reveal of this key piece of information, not even when the wicked smile threatened to crack his best innocent facade. 

he didn’t sleep with anyone that night, didn’t look for you in any women at that dingy bar. he did go home and sleep with his pretty little girlfriend, who once again overlooked the smell of infidelity and heineken oozing from his skin, as she always does. when her eyes closed and her breaths turned rhythmic and slow, he pulled out his phone, deciding to do his research in the dead of night. 

there were plenty of people with your first and last name, but there was only one you. he found you with ease, and your page takes him by surprise. you post everything. it tells him so much, too much, and gives plenty of ammunition for his right hand that couldn’t resist the ache in his dick. by the point of post nut clarity, he’s cooking up an idea, which turns to an objective, a plan. he fell asleep with a smile on his face and a sense of urgency he couldn’t wait to fulfill. 

he waits until the next weekend, and not patiently. he’s checking your instagram every day, watching your stories off of a burner account, he nearly starts a list in his notes of places you frequent, your orders from coffee shops, things you like. he’d have to tell you to stop making it so easy to know you, understand you, to find you. 

it’s clear you’re a free spirit, not a thought in your brain that someone is watching you, examining you, waiting for you. but he wants you this way, oblivious, unsuspecting, surprised when he shows up to your place of work. maybe you’re used to the attention, yunho thinks, you’re beautiful and you definitely know it, too. as much as he has the urge to hide you, keep you from desiring eyes, he’s proud, in a way, that you can show yourself off so openly. you won’t hide yourself the way his girlfriend does, you didn’t shy off from him for a moment in those four hours he spent with you six weeks ago. 

his friends are surprised that he wants to go anywhere besides his favorite dingy bar in the middle of manhattan, especially with the luxury of a VIP section and bottle service, but he doesn’t kiss and tell. he quickly blamed the hastily prepared outing on his friend’s internship acceptance when his friends questioned the occasion, he’d rather them be unaware. especially with his girlfriend present, much to his dismay. he let them think he’s just a good friend, despite his intentions being more than culpable. the less they know, the better, even though a couple of them definitely have an idea — he couldn’t hide it from everyone. 

when they finally made it to the line outside of the nightclub, a smaller group of six, muffled pounds of the heavy bass from inside only increased the sweat on yunho’s palms. he knew you were inside, in a tight little bodysuit, sparkly tights and a pair of heels on your feet. he wished he could blame the adrenaline as his pants grew tighter, not on the fact that you were inside, not knowing he gathered a whole group of people and improvised an entire celebration just to see your face again. 

he immediately skipped the line, telling the bouncer his last name, and got the group inside with ease. different hues of purples and greens and blues reflected the ceilings, the walls, the tables, the floor. if he wasn’t so one-track minded he’d be overstimulated. he was brought to the section with his friends following closely behind, he forced the adrenaline to leave his face, his body, his hands. his scheme was set in motion, he needed to lock in, let go of any emotion that might incriminate him, make him seem suspicious. 

he ordered bottles, vodka, tequila and whiskey, three chances for you to make your way around to his section, maybe carrying a sign or carrying a bottle or simply clapping and cheering with your coworkers. when he met you, he didn’t expect you to be a bottle girl at a night club, but he supposed that explains why you haven’t been back to his favorite bar. he assumed you were a full time student, but if he had to guess, maybe a retail employee or a coffee shop barista, something simple, just to get the bills paid so you can live as freely as you want. he was thoroughly mistaken, yet he couldn’t complain. 

especially not when you made your way over to the table, bucket of ice and mixers in your hands, a huge smile on your face. he knew exactly what you’d be wearing: a tiny little black bodysuit that left nothing to the imagination, sparkling tights that mirrored the strobe lights so perfectly, a pair of heels so high he wondered how you were walking so smoothly. that wicked smile appeared on his lips again, the pride of victory flowing through his veins, despite him willing away any emotion reflecting on his face. he should’ve known his body wouldn’t listen to him when it came to you, but his plan had worked, you’re here, bringing juices and sodas and not helping his dick that refuses to soften in his jeans.

he catches your eye and keeps it as you bent forward, setting down the bucket on the table, someone else putting down the bottles beside it. yunho couldn’t be bothered to notice anyone else, not when you keep eye contact as the little show you put on ends, definitely not when you stare over your shoulder as you and your crowd go back to wherever you came from. 

as you get back behind the bar, a rush of adrenaline racks through you, you could feel the buzz all the way in your fingertips and toes. he’s here, he’s here, he’s here. 

you immediately run to the bathroom, checking your makeup, adjusting yourself in your outfit. he was the last person you’d expect to see tonight, you’ve never seen him here before, haven’t seen him at all since that perfect night you spent together. the past six weeks you couldn’t get him out of your mind, couldn’t stop thinking about his long fingers, long legs, he’s long everywhere. you’d never had a better one night stand — you cursed yourself every day since leaving before he woke up, not leaving him with at least your phone number. but a saturday night spent in a hotel, blocks down from that dingy fucking bar, he definitely didn’t want anything more from you than a quick fuck, never to hear from you again. you could be okay with that, you needed to be okay with that.

“boo, could you grab me a bottle of casamigos from the back?” the main bartender for the night asks as you walk out of the employee bathroom, frantically looking for someone to help her out. 

you pause for a moment, her question ripping you out of your daydream and you nod in response. you hurry to the back, grab a bottle, and make your way out to the bar. 

the spotlight from the dance floor might as well of shone directly on him as he stood at the bar, taller than everyone else, a sore thumb despite his dark clothes. you took a breath, a smile on your face, excitement flooding you. 

“hello there, stranger,” you say as you drop the bottle on the shelf then turn to him, “you guys went through three bottles that quick?” 

he shakes his head, “i like to take my time, you know that.”

“i know that very well, spine breaker,” you plant your palms against the bar, shifting your weight to one foot. behind the bar was slightly staged, that in combination with the heels, yunho’s height didn’t seem as intimidating. 

amusement laced his features, “then why’d you leave? i would’ve taken even longer in the morning,” he quirks a brow and your mouth forms a small ‘o’, that was the last thing that you expected out of his mouth. 

you shrug casually, not believing the words out of his mouth, “that holiday inn wasn’t very… enticing. if you were trying to romance me you should’ve at least taken me to a marriott.” 

this makes a chuckle escape his lips, “my bad, just wanted to get you under me as quickly as possible.” 

an ah leaves your lips with a nod, “which you did, so why are you standing at my bar? can i get you something?” you couldn’t exactly place why your tone turned irritated, you might’ve been hoping for a little more than that. 

“another night with you,” the corner of his lips pull up, a smirk appearing on his face, that same fucking smirk that pulled you under him in the first place. 

a laugh barrels out of your mouth before you can stop it, “go back to your little friends and get away from my bar unless you’re buying me a shot, yunho.” 

your words are leaving your mouth before you can think about them, your mouth moving faster than your brain. the last thing you want is for him to leave, walk away, forget about you. you wanted the same thing he did, even if you wanted more. 

he leans in closer and you fight the urge to step back, his tight jaw and lowered eyes daring you. you don’t give in.

“oh? was that a no?” his expression doesn’t change despite his playful words, “what a shame. i’ll meet you after your shift is over.” 

he turns to walk away and you can feel the heat in your cheeks. you call after him and he turns with a single eyebrow raised, “meet me where?”

“wherever the closest marriott is,” his playful smile returned to his lips, the same one you met him with. it excited you and made you nervous, you weren’t used to meeting hookups at hotels. 

their apartments, whether they live alone or with roommates, yes, but never hotels. it made you feel like a hooker first, and that’s usually a red flag and means someone is married, or worse, still lives with their parents. living in such a huge, expensive city, a hotel for a night isn’t cheap at all whatsoever. you decide not to think about it too much, let yourself bask in the excitement of being with him, and look forward to an entire night dedicated to letting off some steam. 

“who was that?” yunho’s girlfriend asks when he slides into the booth next to her, petting his bicep. her question is full of innocence, her eyes still bright, slightly glazed over with need, definitely from the one or two shots she took in his absence. 

“mingi’s favorite fling at the moment,” he gives her a tight lipped smile and kisses her head, pulling her closer to his side. mingi was always the easiest out, she bought it every damn time. 

the rest of the night he sat with his cute little girlfriend on the booth wrapped around the table, he didn’t see you again. he was fighting to keep his excitement to himself the longer he got away with it — not just his girlfriend seeing you, but you seeing his girlfriend, who wound up basically on his lap the more she drank. his friends drank and danced, the six of them together finished all three bottles, a few of them even moved out to the dance floor instead of their private section. as much as yunho hated places like this, he loved to be with his friends, see them happy, spend time with them in such a carefree environment. 

when it came up on midnight, yunho decided it’d be best to head home, taking his girlfriend with him. she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, which she usually did after a good fuck. after some drinks in her, he knew she was out for the night, she’d sleep through a tornado. not that there would be one in new york city. 

he even had time to shower before he headed out for the night, literally choosing your preferred hotel closest to the club. he got a room and headed over to the bar, having another drink or two before they shut it down for the night. he waited past two, three…

it was 3:45 and he started to lose hope. he realized you’d never even said yes — were you even going to show? did you forget in the craziness of your shift? what time did the club even close? when did you usually get home? these kinds of hours really mess with someone’s sleep schedule. 

every few minutes he’d glance at the glass doors, hoping and praying you’d walk inside. 

ten minutes past 4, you finally did walk through the revolving entrance, and relief rushed through him. ugg slippers, sweatpants, a hoodie and your hair tied up, all he could think is how excited he was to take it all off of you. his skin was burning with impatience, he almost leapt off his seat. 

“i was starting to think you forgot about me,” he starts, a curated smile placed on his cheeks as he slips from the faux leather chair. 

“a part of me didn’t think you were serious,” you respond in the same tone, coming to a still in the middle of the lobby. 

he couldn’t place the emotion in your eyes, you looked unsure, nervous even, from across the lobby. he made it to you in two quick strides, towering over your small frame. 

“yet you still showed up,” he wore the same face from earlier when he stared you down over the bar, eyes low, hungry. he could smell you, nearly taste you on his tongue. you still had your makeup on and he immediately knows there’s no way you had time to wash up, for some reason it made his pants tighter. 

“here i am,” you shrug, picking at your sleeve. you looked so small, your cocky demeanor from earlier far gone, replaced by uneasiness, an emotion he hasn’t seen on you yet. it fed his own power trip, in combination with his figure that completely enveloped your own, he felt on top of the world. like he owned you already. 

he huffed out a small let’s go and grabbed your dainty hand that peeked out of your sleeve, guiding you to the elevator, up to the room. 

“this is nice,” you compliment the suite, blacks and grays and wood accents filling the space. 

“everything you dreamed of?” he sits down on the bed, legs spread, hands behind him. 

“i wouldn’t say that,” a small smile appears on your face as you tuck a stray hair behind your ear, standing awkwardly in front of him. 

“no? after i got exactly what you asked for,” yunho slips a tsk out, tilting his head to the side and his chin up, staring you down from under his eyebrows. 

your giggle is nervous, “that’s not what i meant. i’m just wondering why we’re at a hotel,” your curiosity got the best of you, you physically couldn’t hold the question back, unable to shake the feeling of something being off.

“do you want me to be honest, or lie?” he asks, his voice full of amusement. the question takes you by surprise and you have to think about it for a second, there’s layers to that ask. layers you don’t know if you want to peel, something about his tone makes you not want to know the truth. 

“lie,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and a shiver crawls up your spine. that off feeling must’ve been your gut, fully awake now, talking to you, screaming at you, saying you shouldn’t be here. 

“i live with three guys, don’t wanna keep them up all night,” he licks his lips, the lie so evidently fucking clear on his tongue, the lie you asked for. the lie you needed to go through with this despite your gut begging you otherwise. 

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “that’s nice of you.” 

he shrugs, pulling his hands into his lap, slouching forward ever so slightly, making himself smaller. his body language is intentional, he could read it all over you that you didn’t need to be intimidated, you need to be comforted. feel at ease, feel the want, feel that same primal fucking hunger that was beginning to consume him. 

“i’m a nice guy,” his face contorts, an easygoing smile on his lips instead of that dangerous smirk, “come here, stranger.” 

he uses the same word on you that you used earlier and it evokes a smile from you, a genuine smile, he’s grateful that’s all it takes to crack you open. he didn’t have it in him to try anymore. 

as you take two steps forward he leans back, displaying his lap for you to sit. you wrap around him, your knees hugging his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

“there she is,” his voice is sweet and soft, laced with desire as he looks up to you, shifting himself under you, “been so long.”

you whimper out his name, immediately feeling him press up into you, your eyebrows furrowing. you wanted to be okay with this, wanted to press your gut feeling down, but you couldn’t. 

he mumbled out a hm? as he pressed close mouthed kisses to your jaw, his brain already miles ahead of you. you wanted to say fuck your curiosity, fuck the truth, fuck whatever he’s hiding, but it’s eating at you. you can’t relax in his touch the way you’re desperate to. 

“wan’ you to be honest now,” it was half a moan when it exited your lips, and yunho didn’t miss a beat. 

“no you don’t,” he spits out too fast, the truth keeping itself hidden somewhere beneath his heavy chestnut bangs. his hands traveled up your back, beneath your hoodie, “i missed you, wanna taste you.” 

as his tongue makes contact with the column of your neck you let out a hiss, his touch feeling like electricity, sending your brain elsewhere. 

he could tell. he could read it all over you.

he could feel the stiffness, the discomfort that touched every bone in your body, he was over it. how did he get here? he just wanted to see you again. he shouldn’t of answered that question the way he did and he knows it, but he also is willing to bet his life on the fact that you’ll fold. he can’t find a single scenario where you leave him, all alone in this suite, spending the night by yourself elsewhere. 

he thinks on it for a moment, an evil thought crossing his mind for a second, that one second easily spinning him into a spiral. did you have something else lined up? is that why you wanted to leave so bad? you were seeing someone else after him? an emotion he can’t explain is simmering inside him, something between rage and hurt and the urge to prove himself. he’ll show you why you missed him, why you needed him, why no one else will ever fuck you the way he can. 

he attacks your neck instead, sucking harshly and groping your ass under your sweatpants, making you jolt forward into his chest with a muddled moan. he chuckles in a low tone before picking you up and putting you on your back in one quick motion. you yelp at that, no doubt taking you by surprise, he can’t help but keep laughing. the laughter is dry, it’s knowing, it’s a little menacing, too. 

as he attached his lips onto yours, he can feel you physically melt into him. your body softens, that tension that once sat in your shoulders now gone, your fingers pulling into his hair. 

finally, he thinks. 

once again, jeong yunho’s winning streak continues, and he can’t help the prideful look as he looms over you. 

you audibly said fuck it. 

as long as his lips were on yours, his dick continued to press into your too layered core with experienced fingers touching every bit of your skin, you didn’t fucking care. you didn’t see a wedding ring and, shit, if he did still live with his parents, the hotel room was pretty nice. you could live with that. 

your body felt hot — too fucking hot. you had too many layers on, too much weight on top of you, impatience was crawling up your throat. 

“take this off,” you tugged at his shirt, mumbling between kisses, and he obliged. you took the moment of freedom to strip yourself of your hoodie, unclipping your bra with one hand. 

he watches in amusement, lips glossed over with your spit and a still growing tent in his jeans. you’re thirsty, you’re hungry, you’re itching for him. and he can read it all over you. 

“take it easy, we have all night, princess,” he comments, yet his pupils are blown and his hands immediately flocked to your chest, “such perfect fuckin’ tits.” 

“take it easy, my ass,” you laugh before he shuts you up quick, attaching a slick mouth to one of your nipples, making an involuntary gasp leave your lips. you arch your back and your head digs into the pillow, sizzling hot pleasure coming from every nerve ending, a moan leaving your lips as two fingers wrap around the other and pinch. 

“fuck,” you’re hissing out in pain and pleasure and he switches, soothing the sore one over with a soft tongue, rough fingertips tweaking the other. you buck your hips up and he chuckles into your chest, the vibrations against you only made you moan louder. 

he finally pulls away, looking down at you with hooded eyes that matched your own, paired with a snicker from your reactions, “you gonna survive me this time?” 

you smack his bicep with a laugh, “fuck you.” 

“patience, baby,” is all he responds as he reaches for the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling them down in one swift go. you feel the cool air hit you and you can feel yourself steaming, body too hot for the chill of the room that you didn’t notice until now. 

he peppers open mouthed kisses along your stomach, all wet and messy and hot. you whimpered, your hips bucking again at the stimulation, body craving more. muscle memory took the driver’s seat from the last time you slept with him, your body knew what was to come, and the anticipation was killing you. 

he spreads your legs, a strip of black lace standing between yunho and what he would choose as his last meal. he uses the pad of his thumb to rub you through your underwear, making quick circles across the bundle of nerves. his pressure was too light to get any real friction and you buck and twitch against his thumb, but he catches you before you can get any satisfaction against him. 

“yun, please,” you beg, chest growing hot. your knees are nearly touching the bed from your legs spread so wide, you didn’t have the energy to endure the teasing. 

“please what?” the corner of his mouth lifts, brown hooded eyes full of amusement. you whine, frustration getting the best of you, not a care for what you look or sound like. you needed friction, relief. 

“finger me, eat me out, i don’t care, please,” your words are rushed and breathy, audibly impatient. embarrassment is last on your list of worries right now. 

“yes ma’am,” he nods and pushes your underwear to the side, not even taking the time to fully take them off of you. you mentally thank him for it. 

he’s quick to spread your slick up your slit, letting out a pleased noise at how wet you are. you were wet the second he said the word marriott at the club, it’s been steadily accumulating since, you thought about him and what’s to come nonstop until you clocked out. he pushes a finger inside, hooking it upwards, pulling a guttural moan from inside you, ripping you out of your thoughts. 

your head shoots back into the bed, back arching, hips bucking into his hand for more. his other hand goes to grip onto your hip as you steadily rock against his finger, he’s amazed at how hungry you are for it, how shameless you could be for what you needed. he’s watching with wide eyes, not even pushing back into you, letting you guide yourself to pleasure against him. letting you use him. 

“almost forgot what a fucking slut you are,” his teeth are showing through his wide grin, eyes dark and glossed over. you’re a moaning mess, words already mushing together into something entirely unintelligible, grateful for some form of relief even though its nowhere near what you need from him. 

“only f’you,” you mumble out in between moans, eyes opening to see his gaze strictly focused on your cunt that’s swallowing his finger so greedily, “more, please?” 

“awh, you my nice girl tonight?” he finally meets your eyes, “whatever my girl wants.” 

he leans down and accompanies his finger with his mouth, immediately wrapping his lips around your clit. you yelped out, hands reaching out to tug at his hair, pulling him closer to your throbbing clit. he flattened his tongue against your folds and you started weeping, moans and words combining into a string of noises. 

he added another finger inside you and started at a brutal pace, tongue flicking at your clit at the same rhythm. his fingers curled with each thrust, looking for that sweet, spongy spot inside you. as your fingers tightened around his roots and a loud cry left your lips, he knew he found it. 

“taste so fucking good,” he said into you, not even bothering to look up at you. he was lost in your pretty pussy, the pussy he’s been dreaming about for weeks. the same pussy he’s been wishing for during sex with every other woman since you. now he has you under him, naked and screaming for him once again. yunho was overflowing with satisfaction and pride. 

satisfaction, pride and a lust so great, his cock began aching in his pants. he started grinding against the mattress mindlessly, in the same rhythm as he was using on your cunt, small moans and grunts leaving his lips just adding to your own pleasure. you could feel the familiar knot in your stomach tightening, building steadily. 

the same as him, you’d also been looking for another life-changing fuck since that night you spent together. all the worries you felt earlier were long gone, like they never happened in the first place. all that mattered was yunho and the impending orgasm he was giving you, this is all that was important to begin with. 

“close,” you moaned out, “i’m sofuckingclose yunho don’t stop!” 

he let you have it, let it consume you. it nearly blinded you, your orgasm, your head dug so fucking deep into the mattress and your joints locked up so hard it had you seeing stars on the inside of your eyelids. he guided you through it, steadily pumped his fingers and kept his pattern on your clit until you were thrashing against him, hands pulling up on his hair to get him off of you. 

he had half a mind to keep going, pleasure you through the overstimulation, he needed to see you cum again. with your eyes rolled into the back of your head, back arched up and lethal noises leaving your lips… he could watch it on repeat for days, months, years. it’s his new favorite movie. he let you come down, tore his lips off of you, slowing his fingers movements down to nothing. 

he quickly crawled back up to kiss you, tongue sliding into your mouth, and you tasted yourself happily. your hands trailed up his arms that stood strong beside your head, then down his chest, down to his waistband. your fingers slipped underneath his boxers to grip his length, and the action almost made him cum in his pants, his patience is running too thin. he’s so fucking horny, so blue balled by the mattress he just fucked his hips into like a middle schooler, he needed release and he needed it fast, despite wanting this night to last a lifetime. 

his hips bucked into your hand and you giggled, “i think you missed me.” 

“you have no fucking idea,” is all he responds as he pulls away from you, slipping his sweats down to his ankles and then off of him entirely. you make quick work of getting your panties off, the black lace seeing enough action for one night. you needed to feel him against you, all of him, no barriers. 

“enlighten me then,” you spit into your hand as he crawls above you once more, spreading it all over his already leaking cock. he grunts out, hips twitching, he needed you just as bad as you needed him. 

“missed these fucking tits,” he said as he grabs your chest, squeezing them hard. you kept your pace on his cock, tugging upward, circling your hand around him. 

“missed your pretty face,” he leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips then another on your jawline. 

“missed eating that sweet pussy,” he leaned down, out of reach for you to keep stroking him, and spit on your already too slick cunt while holding your legs up.

“missed fucking you stupid,” he lined himself up, spreading his precum and spit all over your folds. you hissed out, hips bucking to meet him, hoping to push him inside you already. 

“missed hearing you when you cum,” he matched your impatience and pushed inside, met with no resistance, sheathing himself inside you without hesitation. you screamed, screamed so fucking loud the entire hotel probably heard you, not expecting him to fill you so fast. 

“missed that sound, too,” he smiled, bottoming out, and you couldn’t respond. couldn’t do anything but breathe, the sheer length of him overwhelming, stealing your senses. he filled you so good, so right, you couldn’t form thoughts let alone words. primal instinct took over, your body moved before your brain could process. 

“need you to stop squeezing me so i can move, baby,” he grunts out, eyebrows furrowing, “missed this tight pussy too much, all i could think about for weeks.” 

“ho- holy fuck yunho, y’split me fucking open,” you choke out, trying to relax your muscles, trying to get your breathing even. 

“what’s that you called me earlier? spine breaker?” he asked, and his demeanor was too cool, too casual. like being inside of you wasn’t affecting him nearly as much as it was affecting you. you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you nodded, the only response you could muster. 

he chuckled, chuckled, while being balls deep inside you, “that’s a new one.” 

that’s all he said before he started moving. with no warning, if you weren’t sure before that he split you fucking open, you were definitely sure now. you were a screaming mess underneath him as he rutted into you, long fingers hooked under your knees, pressing them toward your head, you only got louder. 

“fucking h-hell, yunho,” you cried out, eyes lolling back again as he fucked into you at a harsh pace. 

“so fucking wet,” his knuckles were turning white at his grip on your legs, pistoling himself at a rhythm only he could keep up with, easily rearranging your insides. 

“you can take it,” he says before you can say a word, he can see your eyebrows furrowed, your moans muzzled down to small sounds of despair leaving your lips. he knows he’s being rough, he knows he’s fucking you harshly, but you’ve taken it before, so you can do it again. 

“yun, i don- i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he encourages, but it doesn’t feel much like encouragement as he only picks up the pace. 

he gives you a second to breathe when he pulls out, but he only flips you over, pulling you up by your hips so you’re on all fours. you hiccup, already reduced to jelly, you don’t know if your legs can withstand the force of his thrusts. 

“slutty little cunt has taken me before, she’ll do it again,” his words are just as harsh as his thrusts as he slips back in, pushing your back down into the mattress with a large hand when it inevitably rises to meet his thrusts. 

your face meets the pillow, turning to the side so you can at least breathe, tears wetting the mattress at his relentless abuse at your cunt. he reaches around your hips and brings a finger to your clit, rubbing quick circles, and god you don't even know what sounds are coming out of you at this point. 

tears and screams are leaving you, but your hips are fucking back on him, meeting his thrusts, and he’s smiling. wide, teeth showing, he’s so prideful. he knew you could do it, take him, take whatever he’s giving you, because you’re a slut. his slut. he won’t let you out of his hands again. 

“f-fuck ‘m close, fuck,” he can hear the sobs through your words, he only wishes he could see the tears that are now soaking the mattress, no doubt ruining your makeup. 

he could feel it in himself too, he was far too close to be fucking you like this. as much as he needed release, he wasn’t ready to cum just yet. he wanted to see you. 

he flipped you back over, slipping back inside you with ease, and your arms immediately hooked around his neck to pull him into a kiss. 

it was sweet, almost soft, the way you were kissing him when the way he fucked you was almost dehumanizing. like you didn’t matter, your pleasure was up to you, yet you both knew that was far from the truth. his thrusts kept up as he kissed you slow, nasty, tongues moving in tandem with another. you were whimpering in his mouth and he could feel you tightening around him, he knew you were close. 

“there you go baby, cum on this cock,” he broke the kiss, keeping your foreheads together, plowing into you with fervor. 

“gonna,” tears still streamed down your face, back arching so your chests met, skin touching skin. he needed you to cum now, he could feel his continence slipping. 

you finally tightened around him, really tightened around him, a high pitched, languid moan leaving your lips. he only repeated yes, yes as you shook against him, creaming around his cock. he finally let his release take him over, burying himself inside you, filling you up. 

you could feel every drop, the warmth spreading through you like wildfire, there was no other feeling like it. it was comforting, being so full, being so heavy with this huge man resting his weight on top of you.

he finally rolls off, laying beside you, catching his breath just as you were. 

“it’s kinda crazy that you came to my club tonight,” you take your hair out of it’s entanglement on top of your head, letting it fall free on the bed, “i really thought i’d never see you again.” 

“i’d never let that happen,” he shook his head, eyes closed as he laid beside you, chest still heaving. 

“what do you mean?” you turned to look at him, “you knew i worked there?” 

“nah, i’m just lucky.” 

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Yandere Class 1-A X Reader — { PART 2 }: We’ve Got Company~

(Description: Titles are hard, okay? Please don’t shame me for how cheesy it is because I know it's corny LOL. But I make up for it with decent writing! I POPPED OFF with some of these parts.

We all know this by now, but it’s safe to say (Y/N) is too trusting of EVERYONE. The amount of people I keep making them blindly and wholly give their faith to is…concerning. I know you guys probably want them to fight back more, but it’s hard when I haven’t labeled them with a specified Quirk. I wanted to leave it up to you guys to give them the attributes they have in your minds without spoon-feeding you every single choice (Y/N) makes. Sooooo, it suffers a little bit with the repetitiveness of this constant back and forth getting pulled every which way. It’s also difficult when there are so many characters to cover.

I am not complaining about it though! I am extremely proud of this story and am very happy with the outcome. I just hope you guys love it as much as I do. Plusss, it’s kinda nice to imagine being a princess stolen away at every opportunity by handsome/gorgeous suitors teehee!)

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Original Concept - [Mommabean’s OG Story] → Here

Part I - [My first addition] → Here

Part II → You’re here!

~

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Style of Story: Sequel Oneshot // This story is a continuation of Momma’s Yandere Class 1-A Purge short story. I have written a previous part to this, so please check it out to understand what is happening!; Yandere Purge! If you don’t know what that is, go take a look at @yanderemommabean’s original works of it on her page, all is explained there; Many of MHA’s adults are included here, but I don’t want to spoil who exactly is in the story, so that is all you get so far~!

Word Count: 24K

WARNING(s): Swearing; physical fighting and threats (threats aren’t made at (Y/N), nor are they hurt beyond bruising); there is a brief mention of rape and sexual assault—it is not gone into heavily or in detail, but you need to know it is there; mental and emotional manipulation to the reader; bending of MHA’s storyline and the events currently happening (mainly regarding the setting, timeline, and people’s aliveness LMAO) to fit (Y/N) into the story but bear with me; some unrealistic interactions are going to happen in this fic because to get everyone together in a setting like this is near impossible; All of Class 1-A’s students are aged up to third years & everyone is 18 or older // I AM WRITING THEM AS IF THEY ARE IN CLASS 3-A NOW FYI!

[PLEASE NOTE: I DO NOT SUPPORT YANDERE TENDENCIES IN REAL LIFE!!! Do not confuse my writing this subject as encouraging it, there is a difference between reading/writing yandere stories V.S real-life situations. Please, if someone in your life is behaving like a character(s) in this story (i.e. obsessive, possessive, controlling, abusive, psychotic, sociopathic, LIKE A WACKADOO, etc.) get immediate help! That behavior in the real world is not romantic, sweet, or NORMAL! Stay aware, stay safe.]

~

Unable to leave without one final gloat, Shinsou turns back to smirk at the students, “All of you were wrong earlier, by the way. It’s me, dumbasses.”

Suddenly, a cocky voice chuckles from behind the mind-controlling boy, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, kid~...”

As reluctant as Shinsou is to say this, a tiny shiver runs down his back. Coming from the busted-up entrance of the gymnasium, Aizawa’s voice rings out like a bell. Your current threat swivels around to face the intruder. Even though his recognizable voice is a dead giveaway, seeing him actually standing there in the rubble draws a sigh of relief out of you. You don’t know whether to cry, smile, or scream for his help; either way, it’s just a nice change of pace to see his usual disheveled appearance and relaxed stature. At least something has remained consistent on this hellish evening.

Though, something sensible clicks in your mind. Thinking back on all the strong-willed friends you lost in the fight against this disease, you realize there’s a strong chance that even your own teacher has fallen victim to its siren call. As much as you’d like to go running into his comforting embrace and wail about how horribly your classmates have been treating you the past few hours, you bite your tongue and stay complacent in Hitoshi’s arms. Not like you could voice many of your concerns with the makeshift gag still sat across your mouth.

“Damn,” Shinsou mutters to himself before perking up to meet his instructor's eye with a devious glint in his eye, “Mr. Aizawa. Good to see—,” Before the boy could finish his greeting, the stoic hero held up his hand, his palm facing Shinsou.

“Save the pleasantries. You’d think after all these years of one-on-one training you’d realize I can read you like an open book. Your expressions continue to give your intentions away too easily. So cut the crap.” Shinsou's false smile drops quicker than it appeared. Aizawa leisurely waltzes into the room, closing in on the both of you.

Aizawa continues his analysis with a sigh, “And I wouldn’t try that little gimmick with me. I’m not like my students over there,” he vaguely points behind the two of you to the group.

“I’m your mentor. All the tricks you have up your sleeve are hardly even interesting choices to me anymore. I should know, I taught them all to you, after all.” He chuckled to himself.

“Did you come here just to nag my ear off about how you’re so much better than me, or because you have something actually important to say? ‘Cause, if it's the former, I can’t stay and chat. I’ve got some pretty precious cargo in my hands at the moment.” Shinsou brags, hoisting you further up into his arms, forcing a garbled complaint from you.

“Watch your tone, brat.” Aizawa glares at the snarky comeback his student possessed. Hm. So, Hitoshi thinks he’s hot shit because he won against a handful of decently strong opponents? Well, that’s just fine. He’s used to putting cocky bastards in their place.

“I’ve come to offer you a deal of sorts. We can either speak about it rationally, or,” he shines a leering grin, “I can use my quirk on you, and you can say goodbye to the hold you have over your classmates right now. How do you think you’d fare against 19 pissed-off pro heroes?” This time, you can actually feel Shinsou shutter at the sinister tone your teacher leans into. His reaction makes sense. The idea of irrational, infected, superhuman, edgy teens hunting you down fighting isn’t a pleasant one. Not just one of them either, a whole damn fleet of them. You’d be shaking in your boots too.

“Since I’m nice, I’ll let you decide,” Aizawa has a bored look on his face again as he runs a hand through the inky mop of hair atop his head. A few seconds lurch by before Shinsou caves.

“Fine, old-timer. I’ll hear you out.” Shinsou reluctantly agrees. He knows he could take on a few of them at once in combat, but as soon as the heavy hitters join the fight—it’ll be over. He’d much rather join forces with his instructor than be betrayed by the greedy moochers residing in his class. Shinsou knows that if some of them had the chance, they’d steal you with no hesitation or regret. He’ll just have to sit and see what the idea Aizawa wants to propose is.

The two of them walk towards each other. A meeting held face-to-face in the middle of the gymnasium.

“I should honestly reprimand you guys for how shittily you’ve treated (L/N) this evening. It’s absurd how ragged you’ve been running them. Absolutely unacceptable. Maybe I should even expel the lot of you after the Purge ends.” Wait, Aizawa could see you too? What, is your peril being broadcasted on live television for the world to see or something?!

“Hey, don’t lump me with those barbarians,” Shinsou pulled back in a look of grievance, “I waited until everything was calm to strike. They were the ones who made (Y/N) run around like a headless chicken.” He tossed his head back to the hypnotized horde.

“Hm. We’ll discuss it as a class later.” Aizawa coughs into his fist.

“Fine. Now, what’s this deal you’ve thought up?” Shinsou prompts the conversation.

“Right. It’s about—,” Aizawa is interrupted by his cautious student.

“(Y/N). Am I right?” Shinsou jumps to the conclusion rather abruptly.

Aizawa glares, “Don’t interrupt someone while they’re talking, Shinsou. It’s rude.”

“But you did that to me not ev—,”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Aizawa purposefully cuts him off, “And yes. It’s about them.”

“Hmph,” Shinsou narrows his eyes at the mention of you, “what do you want with them?”

“Not quite the right question. Change that to more like what can we do for them,” Aizawa twists the words to better fit his narrative.

Intrigued, Hitoshi takes the bait, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is I don’t want to outright take them from you,” he shifts his weight to the other foot, “I want to make a deal to share them with you.”

Shouta continues, “Aoyama and his group had a good idea teaming up with Izuku’s crew. Working together, especially when the stronger piers can aid the weaker links, is a much more productive way of going about things. There’s safety in numbers.” Your body freezes up at his words. You connect the dots that he heard, or possibly even saw that whole ordeal. How? Where was he viewing from? Did he watch on a security camera? It’s a likely theory, the school is littered with them. You thought Denki killed the power earlier with his quirk. Or, with a more chilling idea, was he actually there? Physically in the vicinity? How was he nearby, could hear and see the whole event, and you didn’t notice him? Why didn’t he help you? Or, at least, intervene? Your mind is muddled with questions, but the two press on with their conversation.

“Sharing, huh? Thought you liked working alone.” Shinsou prodded, skeptical of the plan.

“Some missions call for an extra set of hands.” Aizawa cooly replied.

“I’m not sure. Not too big on the idea of letting go of them.” Shinsou pulled your bundled-up form closer to his chest. It’s like he’s a little kid—red in the face because of frustration, fighting to keep his stuffie all to himself as an adult asks him to share it with the other kids.

“I’m not asking you to fully let go of them, kid. Just enough so I can take care of them too. They’re a bit of a handful, as I’m sure you’ve no doubt figured out by now,” you whip your head to scowl at him and heatedly shout muffled curses at him, “Heh. My bad, kitten, but it’s true. The trouble your presence kicks up is a lot to handle, even for a pro.” You feel your face heat up in embarrassment at his words. Not that it wasn’t obvious before, but it’s safe to say he is infected as well.

“Plus, what will you do when you can’t control the rest of the students? You and I both know that your quirk doesn’t last forever, and your control is slowly dwindling away, even as we speak. I could help you fend them off, if it comes to it.” Shouta observed. He has a natural way of being extremely persuasive, doesn’t he?

Shinsou isn’t exactly thrilled to give you up, he’d much rather stake his claim on you by himself. His company should be more than enough to fill your time! He doesn’t want time with you to be shared with others he doesn’t approve of. Though…Aizawa isn’t exactly untrustworthy. Hitoshi definitely trusts him more than someone as hazardous as Bakugo, or as miserable to be around as Monoma. He’s a great teacher, even though he’s kind of a hardass. Someone he looks up to. Maybe they could give it a shot? After all, if it doesn’t work out, there’s still plenty of Purge time left for him to find somewhere else to hide and drag you off to when Aizawa isn’t looking.

“Okay. We’ll give your idea a go.” Shinsou begrudgingly complied.

“Good choice, kid.” Aizawa’s lips twitch upward into a minuscule grin. Yet again, your own fate is taken away from you as the two of them close in, grasp hands, and shake to signify the agreement.

“Ooohhh~! What a touching truce, cuties~,” a sugary-sweet voice curls around the boys’ conversation like a hazy morning fog.

“Huh—!” Shinsou isn’t fast enough to react to the intruder as he feels all his senses numb. A dreadfully sweet smell, the same kind of sugary tang that was laced throughout the woman’s voice, invades his nose. It should be disgusting, it should make him sick to his stomach, but the candied scent is nothing short of divine. It’s like nothing he's ever smelled before. It honestly makes him want to inhale more. Which is an action he subconsciously commits, sealing his fate. Shinsou’s legs grow wobbly as he starts to lose feeling all over his body. As unpleasant as he wants it to feel, as he begs it to feel, all he can recognize is a cozy warmth clouding his better judgment. Through the mental and physical struggle, he remembers you’re still sitting prettily in his swiftly weakening arms. He panics, afraid he’s going to, or that he has already dropped you. He glances down.

Well…you used to be there. You’re not anymore.

Shinsou groans, crashing to his knees. He scans the surrounding floor, looking for any trace of you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Good news is he didn’t drop you like an idiot. Bad news is someone else has their disgusting hands all over you. That thought makes him want to pick off his own flesh cell by cell, but there’s nothing he can do except lay on the ground and reluctantly drift in and out of consciousness.

“Too bad you’re not as lovely as our sweetheart here. Otherwise, you’d be my plaything too~,” the woman giggles, “But, oh well. Pleasant dream, honey~,” she coos at the purple-haired boy. You’re beyond floored at how quickly Shinsou was subdued, considering the quick work he made of the other students. Curious as ever, you shot your head back and forth to identify who stole the show this time.

The owner of the saccharine voice turned out to be none other than Midnight, your art history and overly-sexual pro hero mentor. She giggles to herself, watching her prey twitch and squirm in retaliation against her quirk on the floor, “While struggling normally is my favorite part of the foreplay, I wouldn’t advise it this time, dear~. Somnambulist isn’t easy to win against. It’s a much more potent sleep agent than your little quirk could ever dream of being.”

“Love that energy, Midnight! Smooth work,” a boisterous voice slices through your eardrums. You cringe at the volume, recognizing that borderline shriek. The person who is now capturing your body is Present Mic! What the hell are all three of your teachers doing here?! Shouldn’t they be like normal people and hide from the Purge?

As if reading your mind, Aizawa coughs to grab his coworkers’ attention, “That was completely unnecessary of you two. A little excessive too. I told you both I could handle the situation on my own. What’re you doing here?”

“Jeez! So cold!” Mic’s voice danced up and down in pitch, “Don’t be so frosty with us, Eraser! We just wanted to help!”

“Yes,” Midnight purred, the click click of her skyscraper-length stilettos stabbing the shellacked ground echoed across the rubble-covered floor, “you think us so shallow! You act as if we thought you couldn’t take care of this, dear. All we believed was it’s nice to have some support on the field, yes~?”

Aizawa, always as sharp as a knife, caught onto their plan effortlessly, “You two just couldn’t wait to get your grubby hands on them, could you?” The two opposing teachers choked on the air in their lungs as he saw through their lies. They fumbled the next few words that streamed out of their mouths, trying desperately through the stutters to justify their cause and deter his wit.

“I see. Hmm…whatever. Either way, you two never fail to overdo it,” Aizawa grumbles to himself, his chin sinking further into the comfort of his scarf, “I guess I’ll need some assistance dealing with the rest of my students over there. They won’t remain hypnotized for much longer now that Shinsou’s down—I’d rather not have to start a physical fight when there’s no need.”

“Oooh~,” Midnight purred, slinking over to the slowly reawakening crowd, “leave this to me, loves~!” The woman proceeded to unleash another plum of her drunkening quirk right as the class snapped out of their haze. You watched as they fell one by one to the floor in sudden exhaustion. Even the strong-willed one couldn’t escape the fate of her noxious gas, dropping limply to the floor in a dreamless slumber.

“Aww, they’re so sweet when they’re not getting in our way.” Mic snickered.

“Mic. Watch it,” Aizawa’s laid-back indifference swiftly shifted into his scary steely gaze as he warned his rambunctious coworker to stop his prattling.

“Whaaaat~??? You gotta admit, your hooligans sure made our night a lot harder!” Hizashi pouted in frustration.

‘When am I gonna catch a break from these…these…wait. What…the…,’ your thoughts slowly lose their path in your head, your mind-numbing and slipping away from coherent ideas. Your limbs feel like the thickest cement in the world when you try to move them. It’s too tough, too much work—and sleeping sounds like a fantastic idea. You’re just so tired. You start to heave for oxygen as if your lungs can never get enough air inside of them. You’re trying so hard to stay awake because you know in the back of your brain as delicious as stopping your fighting to rest sounds, something doesn’t feel right. You can’t remember why. Eventually, it becomes too difficult to keep your head up on your own, so you rest it against Mic’s open shoulder.

Hizashi immediately stops bickering against the stoic man in front of him as he feels your head plop onto his shoulder. Now that his attention is drawn back to you, he realizes you weren’t squirming around as much as he’d expected you to. He knows even past the lingering virus flooding his veins you wouldn’t give in to their advances so easily—as nice as that would have been—so he devotes all his attention to your slumped frame.

“Hey, you alright, doll?” he cranes his head down to catch your unfocused eyes. He jostles the shoulder you were resting on a bit, trying to reel you back from wherever your mind had floated off to, and that seemed to help a little. You tried to talk, but the gag prevented any words from coming out. Catching the barrier, he beckoned his partner in crime over with a quick tilt of his head and a quiet, “Help me get this thing off their mouth, Shouta.”

Without hesitation, your concerned homeroom teacher stepped over and peeled off the tape as gently as he could. Your mouth now freed, you let out an unconscious whine of relief, showing a small bit of happiness at having some bit of freedom back.

“What did you say, sweets?” Mic pressed yet again.

“Mmhn…I…uhm…mmm…nnh,” you mindlessly babbled in a soft voice.

“Come on, (Y/N). How do you feel right now?” Aizawa coaxed, his worry over you hiking higher at your unresponsiveness.

“Hmmm…just…tired…I think…mnnn,” Your eyes couldn’t stay open. They opted to flutter close every time no matter how much Mic shimmed around in an attempt to keep you conscious.

“Tired. Hizashi—Midnight’s quirk.” Aizawa said as he caught Hizashi’s fear-filled gaze. Both of their anxiety floated back down at the deduction. You must’ve breathed in too much of the secondhand smoke of the pro hero’s quirk. After all, it is quite potent against those who haven’t experienced it much before. Mic’s jostling changed into more of a rocking motion, trying to lull you further into that blissful rest.

“Ohhhh. Honeycakes! That’s okay—it’s perfectly fine if you need some rest. It’s been a tough day for our snuggle bunny,” he uttered, affectionately nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

“I heard you say my name, Eraser. What’s…oh!” Midnight stopped her sentence when her eyes fell on you. Then, all she could do was squeal at the sight of your sleepy state. She shoved Aizawa out of the way, bent down to your level, and squeezed herself as close to you as she could. She was giggling and chirping in delight at how “adorable” and “absolutely, irresistibly, undeniably cute” you were.

“Awwwwhn~~~!!!” her voice curled up in pitch, her fingers smoothing your loose hairs behind your ear and stroking down your warm cheek, “You are just the sweetest lil’ thing~!! Mommy’s precious angel~. What’s happened, Zashi?” Midnight tilted her gaze up to the blond for an explanation.

He grinned, “Just breathed too much of your quirk in, s’all.”

Midnight loftily snickered, “I see. Glad we were here to take care of them!” In all honesty, she’s beyond pleased that out of any one of her coworkers, her quirk affected you the most. In a way, she saw that as she had the most influence on you—or, in other words, the most power over you. In her eyes, she saw it as you giving yourself to her. Willingly and unafraid. Midnight’s heart is cartwheeling and running laps because she sees this as you caring about her so much that you’d serve her in such a magnificent way. She could eat you up and still be searching for seconds. You’re just perfect for her in every way, shape, and form. Aizawa’s nagging drags her out of her less than innocent desires over you filling her head.

“You need to be more careful about how much of your quirk you release in the future, Midnight.” Aizawa scolds, but scorn is practically nonexistent in his voice. It’s hard to be angry at the effects you’ve been put under when the outcome makes you look so helplessly cute. He’d never admit it, but he’s envious of her quirk, when it can turn you so easily into this version of yourself. The dilated, doe-eyed look your eyes hold as they drift up to see him makes the words die a little in his throat. Perhaps the lecture he was going to give her can wait a little.

“Ahh, I will, Eraserhead. But first, we should head off for that safe spot we arranged with the others.” Midnight commented towards the men while still keening over your dopey state.

“W…Wait,” you grumbled out in a meek voice, “noo…no. I d-don’t…,” your words fell off into babbling mumbles again. It was torture to try and evade her quirk’s effects like this, but you were steadfast in wanting to fight. To flee their unwanted embrace and be alone. But all they did was coo at your brave efforts. Oh, they knew just the perfect things to say to make you feel like you were a mere baby to them. How inadvertently insulting.

“Ssh shh shh~. Awh, I know, honey~. You just feel so tired~,” Midnight sang in a baby-talk tone of voice, brushing the top of your head with the palm of her hand. It was weird, you couldn’t figure out if she saw you as her child or prey. Maybe both. That scares you. Maybe you don’t want to find out any more.

“Don’t worry, sweetie! We’ve got you,” though less scary than the woman currently pinning you, Mic’s mischievous lilt of tone didn’t skate by your observative nature. His eyes seem…darker than when you’d looked at them during one of his happy-go-lucky lectures. Like he was hiding the truth of his words behind a cobweb-like veil of deceit. In fact, Mic was resembling a conniving spider—which made you the ditzy butterfly falling for his web of a trap.

Lethargic and thoroughly worn out from both her quirk and all the running you’ve done, you finally give up. Your body feels warm and tingly, making sleep all the easier to give in to. As darkness flooded your vision and your consciousness finally dove away, Aizawa’s voice filled your ears, “See you soon, (Y/N).”

~ Timeskip ~

Sick. That’s all you felt as the darkness that consumed your thoughts and vision slowly faded. Sick to your stomach. Aching all over. You felt like you were a flimsy shirt thrown into a clothes dryer and left to spin over and over again for three cycles too long.

You tilted your head a bit and promptly groaned at the wave of nausea that swamped your brain. Such a subtle movement caused your whole world to crash sideways into an abysmal painscape. It was like you were zipping around on the shittiest, most rickety roller coaster you’d ever rode. You wanted nothing more than to get off.

All this to say—ow. What the fuck, brain? Why do you hurt me so? That’s all your mind could conjure up at the moment—insults to your own organs—because it hurts too much to think rationally. That was one hell of a shitty rest. It has to be one of the top five worst naps you’ve ever taken. You’ll have to whine about it to Denki after class today, maybe you’ll get some sympathy candy for your brave efforts. Denki…why does it feel like something important happened that he was a part of? Hmm…you can’t put your finger on it right now. Everything’s too drowsy at the moment for logic to be considered. Your eyes are still begrudgingly shut as you twist your torso around, trying to get comfortable again.

That’s the moment you started to become more aware of the outside world around you. Noises of chatter hung in the air like a nagging mosquito. The more you paid attention to the continuous sounds, the more irritating they became. Who was talking so damn much, and why were they making it your problem? Couldn’t they see you were a sick person in need of some goddamn peace and quiet? But, that’s just Class 3-A life, you suppose. None of them ever know when to shut the fuck up. Well, this time, they’d learn! They’d get a piece of your “hungover” mind.

“Oi…,” you grunted out, a snarl vehemently leaking into your tone, “Can’t you guys pipe down?! I’m sorta in the middle of trying to sleep off a nasty headache.”

Maybe your words stung the culprits a bit too much as you heard the room slow to a deathlike silence. No blistering insults were flung back at you from the resident hellhound of Class 3-A Bakugou, no chortles from the jokesters of the bunch, no profuse apologies from the worrywarts—nothing. Just…silence. I mean, you guess that’s the result you wanted; but the tense atmosphere you created is rapidly making you regret your flippant decision.

The encroaching fear made your mind real back to the very moment you woke up. You began rational plotting out the questions that swarmed your mind like hornets to their nest. Wait, where were you again? What time is it? Why do you feel so ill? Why can’t your brain remember what the date is? Something really important was happening before you passed out related to time…passed out. Hold on—that’s right, you passed out!

What the fuck.

You passed out due to what—no…due to who?

Unease finally getting the better of you, you peeped up again, but presenting a much meeker tone this time, “U-Um…guys? Look, I’m…God, I’m sorry for lashing out. I just—my head hurts like hell, I’m sore all over my everywhere, and I don’t know what’s—haannhh…ow, ow, ouch.” As you spewed out the poorly constructed apology, you steadily sat up from whatever hard surface you’d been resting on. The stiff rest stop made you all that more unnerved; it sort of felt like you were on a metal autopsy table. Cold and jarring. As if you were a poor little frog being dissected for all the insatiably curious students to see. It made you want to be swallowed whole by the floor just to escape the distress of the situation. God damnit, why is it still so hard to open your eyes?! They felt like the heaviest slab of lead welded over your eyelids. You forced them open.

Overlooking the blurriness of your vision, you could immediately tell by the general shape of the people standing in front of you that you weren’t in the presence of your beloved classmates like you thought you were.

There were multiple people in the darkened room, all with varying heights and sizes. There weren’t twenty people like how many there are in your class; their numbers were closer to ten or so. Plus, the colors of their outfits didn’t match with your friends’ hero suits you’d come to be extremely familiar with. However, you did recognize the colors and remembered who they belonged to. The answer chilled you to the bone.

You didn’t speak up again in the presence of most, if not all of, your mentors. Yes, your mentors. The adults you interacted with practically every day; who taught you every tactic you knew, who helped you to become a capable hero in the pro world. In fact, you didn’t just not talk, you slumped into yourself a bit. You were afraid. Scratch that—you were beyond afraid. You’d seen, and fought, firsthand against their wrath before. You’ve watched their fights broadcasted on the television, through shaky personally caught videos on the Internet posted by petrified civilians. You’ve worked alongside a few of them through missions and treacherous situations. Hell, you actually battle against one for the right to earn your hero license! That was a tough day, but you’d made it by the skin of your teeth—more than likely only winning because of the unimaginably heavy weights that shackled them as handicaps. In short, they were barbaric beasts on the field. Now…you’re face-to-face with their rage.

Let’s all send a brief prayer for yourself. Maybe your death will be swift and your afterlife pleasant if you beg hard enough.

“My, my, my~,” a sultry voice sang in your right ear, making you shriek at the intrusion of your personal bubble, “such a naughty-mouthed little pet~! Tell me, what brute taught you to speak to your superiors in such a disrespectful way?” It was Midnight again. She was always one to breach your boundaries, whether you wanted her to or not.

She cupped your jaw with one of her hands, pinching and squeezing your gooey cheeks with the other for her pleasure, “Ooooh, precious! How’s your whittle head~?” she cooed while smushing. She wiped away a small bit of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth, making you feel that much more like a ditzy baby. The way she played with you really did remind you of a child messing around with a delicious treat of springy mochi. Perhaps that was what you were to the ravenous woman, a delicacy to be devoured whole. You shivered in fear again.

Another person from across the room let out a high-pitched whistle, one that indicated astonishment or feeling impressed, “Wow! Brat’s got some spunk to ‘em! Good to know they haven’t switched up since we last spoke.” You weren’t as familiar with that voice as you were with your homeroom teachers, but it did strike a chord in your memory. Their youthful cheer didn’t resemble the dread-filled boredom Aizawa’s held, but they didn’t sound crude enough to be another student. Your vision clearing further was the only thing that gave their mystery identity away. It was Power Loader! It feels like forever since the two of you even acknowledged one another. Either way, he’s here now and fully decked out in his hero gear. The heavy equipment gave you a unique foreboding feeling that his abilities weren’t just all that meets the eye.

“Midnight, step aside, please.” A mellow voice takes control of the conversation. Midnight looks over her shoulder in disdain, as if the very notion of her being politely asked to leave your side is the most disrespectful thing someone could have asked her to do, but it seems that whoever popped the question meant real business. She stepped aside with a huff of frustration, mumbling under her breath curses, and something along the lines of ‘the gall’.

Once she moved, the requester hopped onto the table where you sat. They pushed into your personal space as well. You opted to lean back as much as the encroacher would allow you. From the astronaut-resembling helmet that donned their head and the puffy jacket they wore, you came to the obvious conclusion that this was 13, another member of the faculty here at UA.

She moved your head—left to right, up and down, and in a full circle. She checked all around the front of your body, and basically anywhere that you allowed her to get close to. 13 looked back deeply into your eyes before twisting back to face the bunch, “They don’t appear to be physically hurt on the outside. No scrapes, cuts, sprains, or anything broken. All that I could really deduct was their dilated pupils, meaning the effects of Somnambulist are still present,” 13 whirled forward to you, “Feeling at all hazy, woozy, or tired, (Y/N)?”

You simply stared back at the expressionless black mask 13 wore. You didn’t know what to say—half because you were uncomfortable at how close she was, and half because you were still bracing yourself to get your ass beat by the less merciful of the teachers. Your mind is drawing to blanks as you’re frozen with your jaw left hanging open.

“(Y/N)?” 13 snaps her fingers in front of your face, semi-dragging you out of your tizzy, “Hello? How are you feeling, dear?”

Ignoring the uncalled-for nickname, you wobbled your head about to snap out of whatever stupor you were stuck in, “Aaaah…um…good. I think. Still…vision’s still a bit blurry, head’s kinda fuzzy, but it’s okay. I can’t really feel my legs yet, I guess.” You tried kicking your feet back and forth, and while you could see them sway, you didn’t feel the sensation of your tendons pulling the limbs.

“Alright, that’s okay.” 13 dismounts the desk to face the crowd, “They’ll be fine. Just give their system time to recover from the grogginess. Next time, Midnight, go easier with how much of your toxins you release! They could’ve gotten severely hurt if they inhaled too much.” 13 scolds the tall woman.

Midnight scoffs, “Ugh! Why, I would never intentionally hurt my love bug like that! I swear, you act like I haven’t been controlling my quirk for my whole life!”

“Midnight, we have to set an example for our students, and lying isn’t how we do that. You should acknowledge you do go overboard sometimes,” craggy words tumbled through Midnight’s attempt to save her ass. Off to her side is the stony fortress of a hero, Cementoss, the one who spoke against her. While he is a man (or is he a rock? You’re not too sure even after all these years being a student under him) of few words, he does have the occasional snarky comeback in his vocabulary when he isn’t prattling off haikus and other unheard of analogies for life’s troubles you haven’t heard before. You’re pretty sure that half of what he says is made up on the spot, and you’ve occasionally tested how far you could push his knowledge before by asking him tough questions like “What is the meaning of life?” or “How did the universe come into being?”.

Before Midnight could pulverize the stone man into pebbles, the final guest you could see hanging in the back of the room piped up, “Can we please stop fumbling around like nimrods and get back to the matter at hand?” Inky, sludgy, and methodical in his dialect, it was no shock that its owner was the shadowy hero known to you as Ectoplasm. You’d interacted with him even less than the others, but you weren’t oblivious to his strength. You’d seen the fight between Tsu and Tokoyami against this predator, and you are happy to admit that he wasn’t your enemy on the field that day.

After briefly scanning the room once more, it seemed that everyone who was there had spoken up. Well, except for Aizawa and Present Mic, they seemed to be having a private conversation with themselves. Glances they threw in your direction, no matter how embarrassingly obvious Mic was being or the tenuousness of Aizawa’s, made it hard to ignore their scalding stares. It was borderline disturbing to see Mic so stationary. You wished he’d stop freaking you out and start yelling in your face like he always does. At least that would be one thing that hadn’t changed with the Purge.

“Precisely. Where were we? Please remind us, Ectoplasm.” Cementoss, equally over the distractions going on, encouraged the conversation forward.

“We were talking about our options. What to do for the rest of the Purge. How to proceed with the plan.” he spoke as if it was the most obvious thing that could have been explained. Plan? What plan was he talking about?

“‘Listen, we’ve gone ‘round and ‘round with these ideas for over an hour now,” HUH?!?! EXCUSE YOU, BUT WHAT DID HE SAY?! There was no time to stop their conversation to ask if Power Loader was or wasn’t exaggerating the time that had passed as he pushed on, “Why can’t we just go? I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this room.”

“What, and storm out here with no strategy? Yeah, that’s the best idea we’ve heard tonight.” Aizawa finally tossed his opinion into the ring and—surprise, surprise—it’s another gripe.

“We do have a plan—and a solid one at that! I just said it’s all we’ve been discussing ever since we stepped foot into this bloody room!” Power accused.

“No,” 13 cut in, “the plan you’re talking about is the one we’ve fine-tuned to get out of the school. What Eraser’s referring to is what we’re going to do once we leave the school grounds.” She stepped over to you while giving her speech and wipes your face down with a damp, cool towel. You’re not sure where she dispensed it from, but you supposed that since she specializes in search and rescue missions, she’s bound to have supplies of the like to help in stressful situations built into her hero suit.

“Easy! We run and gun our way out until we find a safe spot! A simply perfect plan. Okay? Let’s go.” Power said with finality.

“For being a seasoned pro, you’re much too antsy. You’re rushing this operation. If you keep sprinting through the important discussions, there will be major consequences.” Cementoss threatened. Power scoffed at the man’s slightly pretentious behavior.

“Think about it,” 13 tried to reason, “There are hundreds of pro heroes out there. Half infected, half not—give or take a handful. For however many pros around out there, there are at least six times as many civilians out there who are either running for their freedom or others who are trying to take that from their darlings. It is too risky to bring them out into a world like that.” Them? Hold on, do they mean you?! No way in hell are you being taken out into the shit storm that the big city has become! You’ve seen how the Purge demolishes the city in years prior. You saw what the news predicted it would be like tonight. Chaos. Pure chaos filled with dangerous, virus-infected people and villains simply trashing the place because they are able. You came into the school to seek shelter in one of the safe rooms to avoid the city, and they want to bring you into it? They can’t do this to you! Have they completely lost it?

Well, you knew that much, but still!

“He’s right, though,” Present Mic finally spoke up from his unusual voicelessness, “We can’t stay here all night waiting for some miracle to spring up. We’ve gotta take some action.” His shoulders buckled inward to show his agitation.

“And no one is saying that we will stay, Mic.” Cement’s sensible attitude never fails to shine through the stress of a tough discussion.

“But you are saying that. You know it…because you’re afraid. We all are afraid.” Mic grabbed everyone's attention because of how softly his words came out.

“I mean, we all know who exactly is out there,” Mic somberly stood and walked over to your side. You wanted to shimmy away from how close he got, but you chose to sit still to hear what else he had to say, “It’s not an if or maybe situation—he is looking for them. Maybe staying in the school has some perks. At least here he can’t get to them without breaking down a few thick walls.” At Mic’s dreadful outlook, everyone’s prepared responses fell into stifling silence. Who is he talking about? Why do you feel a shiver scaling up your spine at the faceless adversary? All this anticipation is going to make you go insane for real this time.

“It’s true. But UA isn’t safe either. We’re not alone and we aren’t the only ones in this building who’re interested in them. Those confounding kids of yours are still around, Aizawa.” Ectoplasm countered. Finally finding the place in the conversation where you can speak, you took your chance.

“Are you talking about the rest of my class?” you breathed out. The teachers spun their heads to give you their full attention. It creeped you out—their devotion to hearing you speak as if it was gospel—but you guess this virus is handy when you need to grab the attention of a bustling room.

“Glad you can still find your voice, sweets.” Mic praised you with a gentle pat on the top of your head. A total switch up from his gloomy personality just prior.

“And, yes, we are.” Ectoplasm sighed, sending one of his clones to your side. The clone didn’t do much except lay their hand on your head and brush your hair back, “They've proven to be quite…driven in their resolve to keep you by their sides.”

“Meaning they’re being a real pain in our—,” Mic’s interrupted by Aizawa’s scarf strangling the bottom half of his face to cease the loud man’s babbling.

“Hmmn, you guys take everything so personally,” Midnight bemoaned, propping her spike-heeled shoes against the side of one of the many desks around, “the children are just playing together, ‘is all! In fact, they’re making this night much more fun for me hehe~.” You cringed, and the only word running through your mind was ‘creepy.’

“Yes. Be kind, Mic. They haven’t been a bother for some time now.” Cementoss spoke with a grateful tone of voice.

“Well, it’s no wonder they haven’t been.” Power Loader huffed while resting his body back onto a nearby table.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You shifted up further to give the conversation your full attention. Once you were up, a slight tightness on your wrists captured your distracted brain. You glanced down and saw binding on your wrists. They were bound with tape. Tape…oh! That’s right! You were taped up by Sero before this shit show happened! You scanned your body up and down and didn’t see any of his tape around anything but your hands. It’s gone from your mouth too since you can speak to the teachers. You guess you’re thankful that they at least gave you the freedom to wiggle your legs around. Nonetheless, you’re still unforgivable-level mad at them for being dicks and holding you hostage.

“He means that ever since Shinsou caught them under his hypnosis, and Midnight leaked her Somnambulist to put them under, they’ve been sound asleep in the gymnasium.” Ectoplasm’s words curl up like a snake wrapping around its helpless prey. You feel less comforted by Ecto’s clone lovingly stroking your head now. That means no one else has been looking for you ever since Aizawa, Mic, and Midnight took you. Goody gumdrops.

“Yea’,” a new, twangy voice plucks into the conversation, “and it seems they ain’t rearin’ up again for some time.” It echoed from the entrance of the room a few feet ahead of your spot by the windows, so you craned your neck to the side to see past the teachers blocking the way.

His foreign accent was a big hint, but if there was any confusion as to who exactly was speaking, his masked appearance confirmed his identity. Snipe was perched against the door frame, slacked back against the wooden frame, and bending his knee to rest one of his spurred cowboy boots on the frame as well. Since when did he get there? You don’t recall seeing him when you scanned the room earlier. What was even more surprising was that on the other side of the doorframe rested Vlad King, Class 3-B’s homeroom teacher. You watched him side-eye his coworkers and, opposite to the rest, he stayed silent. Quiet, analytical. You haven’t interacted with him as much as you have with the others since he’s not one of your main teachers, but you’re certain from the way he and Aizawa have this sort of one-sided rivalry going on between them that he’s not one to be taken lightly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” barked Present Mic, “what are you two doing in here? You’re supposed to be guarding the door!”

“We decided to come in when we heard you lot yappin’. Wanted to see if our blossom was alright.” Okay, these corny nicknames were getting to be a little much—and it was becoming hard to not laugh at them when Snipe’s Western country-ass voice tried to say it so seriously.

“Yeah, right. You just wanted to see them.” Power Loader grumbled on his lonesome. Jealous much?

“Great, the peanut gallery’s all here.” you chuckled to yourself. Honestly, it was a smartass remark that was only meant for your ears to hear, but you should’ve known better than to mutter in the presence of such high-profile, analytical, pro heroes.

“Watch your tone, (L/N). I’ve taught you better than to speak to your superiors like that.” Aizawa’s steely gaze came to life, an intimidating red glow directly pointed your way. His mop of bushy, black hair billowing up to dangle in midair. It drifted about like a bed of kelp swaying with the brush of the ocean’s currents. All the built-up energy you didn’t realize was coursing through your veins came to a staggering halt, The strength permeating your limbs immediately drained. You’ve been under the influence of Aizawa’s quirk before when you were caught in the mix of his frustrations at the pranksters of your class, so this wasn’t an unexplored feeling, but it was still jarring to be stripped of all your powers you so flippantly take for granted.

As you looked around, you realized your statement was wrong—not all of the teachers were there. Not apologizing for telling the truth, you continued your comments as though Aizawa had never threatened you, “Ixnay that—not everyone's here. Where’s the rest of them?” Aizawa sighed and released you from the hold of his power when he realized you were simply ignoring his wrath. Honestly? He tips his hat to you for the response. Avoiding confrontation is sometimes the best course of action.

“Huh? Oh! Ha ha, you’re so clever! We brought it up briefly to the other staff members but—,” Power Loader had begun, but he was soon interrupted.

“They either had no interest or were busy with other plans for the Purge.” Vlad finally spoke up from his dark corner. Right, you remember why you don’t speak to him all that often. He scared the living shit out of you. At least you can have a somewhat decent conversation with Aizawa. With Vlad King, it’s always cold-shoulders and overdramatic frustration to simple questions you ask him. Those brief few words reeked such deadly poison, as if saying that anyone could ignore you was a crime against humanity. His facial expression showed his irritation, a frown stretching down his worn features and a frustrated crinkle cut between his eyebrows.

“Thanks. I was in the middle of getting to that.” Power snarked at the behemoth hero.

“We asked All Might if he wanted to come along with us,” 13 chirped, “but he declined as well. We don’t know exactly where he is, but he’s around.”

“Yeah! Not to mention how he responded! Something like,” Mic made his voice stretch lower into his register with a profound, macho gusto, and a large smile—an All Might smile—grew on his lips, ""HA HA! I appreciate the offer, friends, but I will be alright on my own! Good luck to you! I am off!”, and ran off to who knows where. Weird!”

“You guys never let me say the important parts of the stories.” Power scowled to himself.

“Gotcha,” you acknowledged the length of explanation, “So…what happens now?” you prodded.

“Now,” Midnight coos at a distance that is yet again too close for comfort, “we get to have fun with you~.”

“WHAT?! I’m not some class pet. Find a guinea pig somewhere else!” you wriggled away from the dastardly woman.

“Endearing how much control you think you have over the situation,” Aizawa smirked. You hated his comfort in the idea of a fictional complacency, one that was only caused by your own fear of speaking against them, “Stop playing naive, (L/N).”

In an effort to distract yourself from his stare, you pressed, “What’s the big plan after all this then?”

“After what, dearest?” Midnight mused. She reached a hand to your hair and softly massaged your shoulders. Quite done with the games they played, you shook her lingering touches off.

“After the Purge is over. What do you plan to do with me?” You wanted to add a sassy ‘obviously’ somewhere in that question, but you held your tongue for now. We’ll see how long that lasts.

“Sweetie~, we plan to have you as ours!” Midnight purred, circling around you like a beast going in for the kill. You rolled your eyes—how vexing can this woman be?

“Wow! That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh.” You threw out a half-assed pity laugh for the pro. You looked at the other pros for some kind of confirmation that Midnight was just being her usual lofty self, but when no comforting gaze reached your eyes, you felt your grin crumble.

“Eh…heh. Alright, that’s how we’re playing this. All the unfunny jokes aside—Hell freaking NO am I letting you lot take me anywhere. I’m not going willingly! I kick, I scream, and I do bite. I’m feral, bitc—,” You managed to squirm hard enough that you actually broke away from whoever was holding you the tightest in the ball of limbs. You slid off the glossy table and slunk back a few feet. It was just spacious enough for you to finally get a deep breath in from the overwhelming physical affection but you were nowhere near a safe distance from the psychos of UA.

“Willingly isn’t an issue. Plenty of us have quirks that can make you submit easily. Resistance will only produce failure for you. I don’t want to be forced to hurt your miniscule feelings.” Vlad gruffed out. He truly reminded you of an English bulldog—grumpy and hard-headed to the extreme.

“Oh, be sweeter, Vlad! Don’t scare the poor thing before we’ve had our fun.” 13 tried to reason with the ice-cold man.

“I am being sweet.” Vlad defended.

“No, you’re being a wet blanket,” Mic advised with a casual whistle.

“Shut up.” The white-haired man huffed out a pointed wind of air. With tusks as sharp as nails protruding out of his mouth, harsh huffs of breath that escaped his nose, and rising anger visibly seeping from his form, it made the image of him in your mind morph from cute, grumpy bulldog to a ravenous warthog.

“No, you shut up!” Power Loader lept on the chance to start bickering with Vlad King as he was still irritated at him for stealing his thunder.

“Girls, girls! You’re both pretty. Now, can we please get back to the much more pleasant person of interest?” Midnight tried to get the boys to back off, but her joke only made them that much more infuriated.

“Who’re you calling pretty?!” Vlad whipped his head over to the purple-haired sex fiend.

“Fix your words, Midnight, or I’ll give you something to be sorry for.” Vlad reared in, sneering at the woman something fierce.

“Here we go,” Aizawa muttered while shrinking further into his tall scarf tower.

“Nice one, Nemuri.” Hizashi bumped her with his elbow.

“I apologize…for you being a whiny BITCH!” You could practically see the overexaggerated sweat drop slip down the rest of the teachers’ heads as the beast of a man went off the rails from Midnight’s claim. He started stomping around, bellowing and nearly tossed a table across the room. You stood there and just…watched the man go from a professional, stoic, respectable instructor to a crybaby throwing the most dangerous tantrum known to mankind.

Guess he didn’t appreciate being called pretty.

Would he have preferred gorgeous?

That joke, while absolutely hilarious and should have been told for at least someone to hear its magnificence, you held in your throat so you didn’t get bitch slapped by a heavy office chair and receive a one-way ticket, all-expense-paid trip to God’s doorstep. You used the teacher’s being distracted with trying to calm the raging boarman down as an opportunity to scan for available exits. They were currently blocking the only door in or out, so that way out was an absolute no-go. You looked behind you and saw another door, but it didn’t look like it would provide a fruitful escape. By process of elimination, it would most likely be another closet that had no exit—and you DID NOT want to be stuck in one of those again. It was a miracle that the one earlier tonight had one! You do not want to try your luck again with much more threatening opponents in your way.

Inspecting further, there didn’t appear to be any other doors around to scamper out of. The last option you had was the large pane windows facing the outside, normally providing you with quite a beautiful bird’s eye view of the city. While it was an escape route, the task of escaping after exiting would be less than ideal. You were currently at least six storeys off of the ground, and you couldn’t guarantee that your quirk would save you from that high of a drop. Plus, the roof was still at least a few floors upwards, so you couldn’t hang out of the window and easily grab a railing. Not that you’d be sneaky enough to do that without alerting the bickering party of adults in front of you. You weren’t sure where else you could turn to avoid a serious temper tantrum.

Shatter.

A window to the side of where you were standing abruptly splintered away. A rush of the chilled night air flooded the room with one thorough sweep. The infiltration was not caused by the window simply breaking due to a strong gust of wind or a tree branch breaking the surface. No—it turned out to be a rather unwelcome intruder.

“Heyo~,” a certain bombshell blond’s lilting tone filled the thick tension in the boardroom. Your eyes zeroed in on the hero’s iconic ruby-red wings and instantly knew who it was. Hawks! You’d seen him in the field before from a distance, even captured his attention for long enough to have a brief conversation. A certain twist in your chest wrung out the breath filling your lungs when you thought about his suave nature that day.

You were there with your three main boys the day you’d met Hawks. You had just started working at Endeavor’s agency because of the generous offer provided to you by Todoroki during the Holiday party. It was certainly kind of him to extend his hand to you, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You tackled him in a hug, and you watched obliviously how he nearly short-circuited at the affection. Though the day you all met up to head off, Bakugou had been acting a little salty around Shoto that afternoon after discovering that he had reached out to you too to join them, but you figured it was just usual Bakugou. Always waking up on the angry side of the bed. Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell you it’s because none of them wanted to make fools of themselves in front of you. Him especially. You are quite oblivious to the “more-than-just-friends” affection they had for you, but Deku was happy keeping it that way. After a bit, the four of you had settled in together and met Shoto’s father.

No thanks to Bakugou’s “stellar” introduction with the pro, Endeavor had put his foot down to deny taking on other interns, other than his own son. Thankfully, hero work is never finished, as a villain attacked then and there. All of you sprung into action despite Endeavor’s denial, and that is when you saw it. Or, rather, him. Red spears descending from the sky like Valkyries swooping in to protect the weak. You saw soon enough that these weren’t spears, they were feathers. The winged hero, Hawks, aided Endeavor in taking down the crazed terrorizer effortlessly. No hesitancy or mercy. Not so much as a bead of sweat lining his forehead either. After recuperating, you and Izuku practically tackled the man in an effort to meet him.

In the staggeringly casual meeting, he was pleased to say he already knew about you from your close friend, Tokoyami. However, he pretty much overlooked the green-haired puffball as he stuck you down with his unnerving amber pools. Hawks suavely shared that he was especially excited to meet you specifically. We’re these most likely only sugar-coated words to get your heart racing for the notorious playboy? Rationally, absolutely. His ego knew no bounds—he’d do anything to get the fans swooning for his flippant affections. Yet, you fell for it nonetheless. You hopelessly played the perfect giddy fan as you devoured all his teasing remarks, his infatuation with your quirk, and his cocky winks. A peck of his lips strategically gifted to the back of your hand was given to no doubt solidify a good relationship, but you nearly passed out. You gushed at the attention before, and you probably would again. You were no different from any faces in his crowd of fans that he interacted with. Or so you thought.

He soon took off after meeting with Bakugou and Shoto briefly. You’d geeked out about the interaction afterwards to the boys. An blatant envy to Hawks’ ease at impressing the masses, you as well now included, made them stumble at their advances. Izuku buried his own jealousy at the hero by directing your attention back to what the rest of the day had planned, and it distracted him from the negative feelings too, thankfully. Shoto had crossed his arms and stood as a silent watcher to walk alongside you. You did catch that he was standing rather close to you. Bakugou only spat insult after insult about the bird brain and the hot-headed waste of a father, hoping that tarnishing the memory of Hawks in your mind would get your mind off of that loser and onto him. He soon cooled off, and became a bodyguard beside you, like Shoto, mumbling to himself about how “pointless” it was to chat with the likes of that douche.

You knew that this meeting was no accident. Hopefully, the hero is here to save you from this awful nightmare. Though, he didn’t show up alone.

“Hawks,” Snipe grumbled a rugged greeting, quite obviously ticked off that the snarky bastard was ruining their sanctuary, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, not here for any particular reason. Flyin’ around, stopping to smell the roses…,” he lolled his head to look right at you, a devilish smirk lining his strikingly handsome face.

“Inspecting suspicious activity in the area.” A velvety smooth voice strikes up from behind you. You jump and whip your head to the side to see the culprit. Laying a gentle, yet comforting, grip on your shoulder was the famous Rabbit Hero: Mirko. You hadn’t really gotten a chance yet to interact with her in your journey as an aspiring hero. You’d heard about her competitive nature through various interviews you’d seen her in. You’d never felt more like prey than now, underneath her sight. Nonetheless, she was even more stunning than the media could convey. Her white locks draped along your shoulder as she peered down over you, the faint scent of lavender and earthy rubble wafting into your senses. Rumi’s piercing blood-tinged irises looked down upon you with a satisfactory expression. The lingering glint of fire locked within her gaze guided you to understand that whatever was driving her on this mission to confront your captors was far from fizzling out.

You’d heard some about personal interactions with her from Bakugou and Midoriya when they worked with her in the field. Deciphering Bakugou’s turn of phrase you’ve come to be fluent in after all these years, you gauged that she wasn’t too bad of a coworker. He’d said she was strong and that she had a kick that was no joke. When Bakugou remembered something about the people he fought alongside, you knew they left some impression on him—good or bad. He did make a point to reiterate that she only “gets in his way”, but he regards everyone that way, so it’s not a huge concern. Midoriya mostly info-dumped about her quirk and every fighting tactic he’d thought up to either aid her or counter her, but you didn’t mind his ramblings. Animal-based quirks like hers were always intriguing to learn about, and you’d appreciated him taking the time to tell you all the information he’d drug out of the woman. They both agreed (shockingly) they would like to work with her again.

You asked some of the girls of 3-A what they thought of Mirko before, and were surprised when they all nearly trampled you in their freak-out fangirling over the woman. Hagakure gushed over how much she loved what Mirko was doing for the community of women in the pro hero society. She adored how Mirko showed the world that women weren’t just damsels in distress; that the power and strength they hold mentally and physically is one to behold. Mina giddily hugged your arm as she declared the hero gave her confidence to not hide any of her more eccentric or “out-of-the-norm”, as she put it, features. Momo allowed herself to become vulnerable as she shared how Mirko taught her how if others don’t have confidence in your abilities you have to be your own advocate. Perfectionism was rampant in the poor girl, and she had such high expectations for herself. Seeing Momo learning to be more gentle with herself was comforting.

 Jiro and Uraraka explained all the ways she really was a fantastic figure for women, not simply aspiring heroes, to look up to. Strong, snarky, never afraid to throw a quick insult or punch to any ignorant when she needed to. Mirko was not known to be a passive presence; she made sure you know exactly what her opinion on any matter is when she gets in your face to tell you it. Since she wasn’t attached to an agency, most would think she’d be an outcast, but they’d be wrong. The girls told you how she was a lone wolf type, that she’d rather handle everything her own way. You admired her for that. Mirko’s belief of not fitting in with the crowd to instead be at the front lines of encouraging others to break the mold society says you should fit is one to be coveted.

“How’s it going, (Y/N)?” Mirko warmly asked you. You froze when you heard your name fall from her lips. How did she know you? You’d never met face-to-face before in your life! She’s even prettier than the photos snapped by her paparazzi could try to convey.

“Are these guys giving you any trouble~?” Hawks ruffled your hair as he sprouted up next to you like a daisy in a sunny meadow. You felt your face heat up at their actions, not getting used to the unwavering attention of such prestigious members of the Hero Agencies. Also, they’re two of the most gorgeous people in all of Japan. Even a sparse glance in someone’s direction would be enough to make anyone crumple to their knees—nevermind that they’re actually addressing you. You were having a hard time standing up on your own, knees wobbly and jittery, your eyes bouncing back and forth between the two in a fumbling manner. All you could think about was not making a total fool of yourself in front of your heroes. That’s about when you realized you hadn’t responded to them, leaving everyone listening with bated breath at your silence.

You wanted to slap yourself for the silly star-struck reaction, “Oh! I–um…,”

“They’re fine, thank you very much.” Surprisingly, Cementoss’ usual composed tone took a frozen turn. Guess he didn’t appreciate the two of them being here. In fact, it looked to be that most of the teachers in that room didn’t care much for the pros being present, all of them having a crinkled up forehead and scowles dotting their lips. That, or the frustration is from the broken window. Whoops.

“They’d feel more fine if you’d back off.” Vlad King, who had finally calmed down, cautioned the duo. Though he’d cooled off his ramage, you could see the irritated vein popping out underneath his skin, so another outburst was sure to loop back around. Whether it was expressed in a hunched posture, snippy tone, or the expression on their faces; the teachers all agreed on one thing. These two were trouble and had to be escorted away from their darling now.

“Yeesh! What a tough crowd, Mirko!” Hawks overdramatically threw the back of his hand over his forehead. He leaned his body backwards, grasping his other hand over his chest where his heart lies, and wailed out in a helpless maiden-like tone. Oh, yeah. You forgot that he’s such a drama queen. It’s silly, but also somewhat charming, in a way.

“Ha! Seems so, Hawks. Hey, chill out, we’re only here to play babysitter, old timer.” Mirko snickered to herself. Hawks joined in her light-hearted teasing with a bright chortle of his own. His laugh formed from a cluster of tiny clicks rattling through his teeth.

“...What was that, little lady?” Vlad’s temper was never one to back down as he cracked his knuckles. You felt Mirko’s hand clasp tighter around your shoulder at Vlad’s choice of words. You could tell she wanted to go off on him and rip him to shreds both verbally and physically, but held her tongue. Now was not the time to start a war.

“Eh, don’t take it so personally, King! She was just pointing out the obvious~,” Hawks egged the man on. Seems to be Hawks didn’t agree with the “no war” idea. You were beginning to get a bit nervous with the pros’ language. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the boar man’s tantrum, as previously mentioned, so why were they purposefully lighting his fuse?! At least move you out of the way first before digging their own grave! Though, you might get pushed into it with them when you can’t dodge their crossfire.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 13 sneered at the shade.

“You’re all…wise from all your experiences,” words posing as carefully chosen by Hawks no doubt fired up the two more.

“But (Y/N) needs protection from a fresher-faced cast. If you catch our drift~,” Mirko finished for her quick-witted partner.

“That is why you’re all gathered, right? For the Purge?” Hawks anything but innocently asked the group. Those who weren’t lost in their own rage showed a glimpse of hesitation in the answer. Hawks, willing to take a mile from the inch they gave him, ran with their slip-up.

“So, it is true. Judging by the switch in your behaviors, and from that out of the ordinary hue in your irises, seems to me like this lot caught the illness. Probably from those students bulldozing through the school. Can you believe it, Mirko?” Hawks swiftly closed the little distance between you two by slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“I can. They’ve been in such close proximity, it’s no wonder they caught it. I’m just disappointed. They’re supposed to protect people like our lovely (Y/N) here from these incidents. Instead, they’re fueling the catastrophe Hmm. You must’ve been so scared running away from these shit excuses for teachers.” Mirko brought her hand to your cheeks and pinched them together to make your lips pout outward.

“Hey! You know that’s bull—,” Power Loader barked as he leaned across a nearby table.

“What were you sickos planning to do with them, huh? Make them your slave after this night,” Hawks unapologetically interrupted the man, a silence washing over the room at the question being sprung, “Force them to be at your beck and call for everything? Splay their body out to satisfy your needs whenever and wherever you wanted? Disgusting.” Hawks veered his body in front of yours to shield it with one of his huge red wings. The more he talked about what your captors would do to you after the Purge, the more fear reeved up to course through your veins. While thinking about the possibilities of what would happen after the Purge if you were caught, Hawks’ accusations had crossed your mind, but you tried to ignore them earlier. They wouldn't…they’d respect your wishes even if you…belonged to them after all this! They—not your friends, nor your teachers—wouldn’t do those horrible things to you.

And yet, based on everything that’s happened thus far…

You’re not sure anymore.

You shrunk into Mirko’s side deeper, wishing to disappear from the conversation of your fate entirely. You felt her wrap an arm around your waist, and you felt safer with the basically strangers than you had all night long with your long-time partners. You wanted to cry from the relief of finally having somewhere safe to turn. You held the tears back to see where their confrontations would lead.

You felt Mirko lead your stiff body with fleeting strides. She was obviously trying to give you an out, so you went willingly. Just let them do as they please. Anything to get out of this suffocating mess. Hawks caught on to her.

“How dare you try to make those foolish claims against us,” Aizawa began, rage climbing high in his heart. He reached for his infamous scarf and pulled the end piece out, preparing for his attack. Screw playing nice. Screw relying on others. Fuck letting these idiots walk all over him. The nerve of this flashy waste of space dictating him to be the kind of monster that would take advantage of you. You’d been in his life for so long now that he hardly even tries to remember the times without you and his other students. So many tough challenges your class has faced, and yet, each hurdle was leapt over with no hesitation. Your entire class had brought him such joy over the years through the sorrow. His kids. However, you and Shinsou undoubtedly claimed the prize to share the number one spot on his favorites list. You’d been so attentive and caring over him when he’d left you to flounder for air. Late nights powering through boring essays, countless assignments completed only an hour before they were due, the weekend study sessions that almost always turned into game nights or gossiping over snacks that he’d seen you participate in with your other friends. You work so tirelessly to be a good student and attentive friend. That effort wasn’t unnoticed by his watchful eye.

There were many more less impactful moments shared that, dare he say, mean even more to him than the death-defying acts you’d survived together. Chats over the positive current life events with him drinking his standard cup of muddy brown coffee and you casually sipping your own beverage. Walks around campus with him, Midoriya, Tokoyami, Ojiro, and you. The sky gleaming a dazzling aqua blue with the sun sparkling overhead, but not in an overwhelming glare. Puffy clouds dancing in the air. A pleasant, flowery breeze twirling past you. One late night in the common room when he was making his last round to make sure everyone was securely in their dorms, he found you sitting on the couch brushing off the aggressive tears slipping down your cheeks.

When he’d made his presence known that night, you’d shot up like a fired bullet off the comfy sofa, scrubbing your puffy eyes in an attempt at covering up the residual cry session. You’d greeted him warmly with a laughing cough to hide your choked up throat, but he shut down your plan of concealment by hinting that he’d already seen your sadness flowing. That night he sat beside you and talked. Talked about what you were upset about, talked through your doubts, fears, and resentment over how you didn’t know what you were going to do now. Gave you a sorrow-filled look when you broke down into a fit of violent sobs again. He even sat with you in a lingering, but reassuring, silence after your sobs faded.

Only then did Aizawa release a sliver of his own castle walls to give you a hug holding as much love as he could spare from his withered and beaten heart. He told you many ways how your class had changed him to be a better man. How you inspired him to keep pushing himself to look ahead to what beauty the future could hold. Aizawa promised you that night that no one was going to abandon you like you’d feared. He promised to always be there for you whenever you needed his support. All he needed was for you to reach out, and he’d claw up any bit of strength he had left to come rescue you like the hero he promised Oboro and Hizashi he would become. Today was no different from back then.

These fakes weren’t going to tarnish his cherished memory of that night with you. That night, when you’d smiled back up at him with a wobbly grin and soggy eyes, now glistening with hope from his words, you should have known he wouldn’t let some nobodies crush your heart. These wretches didn’t stand a chance.

Power Loader cut Aizawa off to continue, “We would never. Stop trying to scare them like that!”

13, back to her reasonable self, even tried coaxing you, “(Y/N), they are lying. We would never betray you. Now, if you’d please come back here—,”

Feeling bolder with allies at your side, you forced your lips to move to stop their rambling lies, “Why should I believe a single word that comes out of any of your mouths?!” The room fell into stillness. It was as if the whole world had shut itself up to give you the stage to speak your mind.

Fed up and running off of pure adrenaline, you continued, “None of you have asked for my opinion on anything that has happened tonight. You don’t care what I have to say; all you give a shit about is doing whatever the fuck you want to me. You didn’t tell me what you were planning. You spied on me, you kidnapped me, and kept me stuck in this hell as your little hostage all night!

“Even if you did care about me, it was only to find out what you could gain from me for your selfish desires.” You downcasted your eyes at their knife-like glares.

Tears welled up and this time you couldn’t stop them from dragging down your tired face. You took a shaky breath to fill your deflated lungs, “I…I understand this virus has…changed you. I understand whatever you’re going through isn’t easy to fight against. But I don’t know. I don’t know what is happening to any of you. I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing. I just…can’t know. I’m too scared to even try to begin searching for the answer. My classmates have become the same as you—completely changed from who they are. They’ve been hunting me down. And now this thing has taken my teachers too?” Your lips wobbled at the realization of your loss.

“Ha…it’s like one sick joke the world is playing against me,” an exasperated laugh bled from your vocal chords, “I don’t know how it’s making you feel, but I know what it is making you do to me. You’re scaring me. I don’t feel safe. Around any of you. It isn’t crazy to consider you’d force me to do…other things too.”

You caught Aizawa’s eyes when you looked up. You turned away to save yourself from the heartbreak of his torn expression.

You curled into Hawks’ back, shrouding your emotional husk of a body in his fluffy feathers. You allowed the last few dying words left in your quaking heart to wheeze out, “Please. Leave me alone. Please.” Whether your teachers were mad at you for speaking against them, or if they wanted to get on their knees and beg for your forgiveness, you had no clue. All you know is that Hawks whips around, gathers your trembling form in his arms, and takes a couple of steps back from Mirko.

“Hang on tight.” He gently whispers to you. Unconsciously, you obeyed, and securely held onto the fizzy collar of his iconic jacket.

“We’ll be watching over them for the rest of the Purge.” That cold, nonchalant jab to the teachers was the last fleeting acknowledgment Mirko threw at them. Hawks spread his wings.

“Next time, before you go destroying the mental and emotional well-being of your students, get a grip on reality.” The finality of Hawks’ tone was filled with all the venom that he felt you lovingly held back. Your kindness is not what this lot deserves. With that, he flapped his humongous wings a few times to kickstart his ascension and took off with you pressed tightly against him. He soared up and out of the broken window, making sure to cover you properly so you didn’t get sliced or stabbed by any broken glass. You watched Mirko clamber out of the rickety window from over his shoulder, land on the edge of the concrete window sill, and use her legs to jump as high into the air as she could.

You watched in awe as she practically flew up several storeys, confidently grasp the edge of the railing atop the roof, and gently sling herself onto the roof without so much as a hiccup. Judging by the trajectory of where Hawks was flying, he too was aiming for the roof. Not like you cared at this point. As long as you were away from them, you’d be fine to go anywhere they took you.

“We at Air Hawks thank you for flying with us on this gorgeous evening, esteemed passenger. We have now reached our destination, the rooftop of the illustrious UA High. The weather outside is clear skies at a balmy 75°, so you may see a stunning view of the city tonight. Please take care and follow your charming, ever good-looking pilot as he will guide you towards the exit.” Hawks cracked a light joke to try and pull you out of the dark headspace you were currently dwelling inside. You spared him a half-hearted giggle for his attempt, allowing him to release the hold his hands had on the backs of your knees. You plopped your feet down softly to the ground just as Mirko had made it over.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Mirko held out her hands, her gaze trained on Sero’s tape that was still wound snugly around your wrists. Wow. You’d entirely forgotten they were still there. You lifted your wrists to the admirable woman and merely watched as she took your already reddening wrists into hers.

“Honestly. What barbarians. To leave you bound like this? Complete bullshit.” Mirko muttered insult after insult under her breath as she wasted no time in destroying the binding. She took your wrists up to her mouth and carefully chomped down using her steely, rabbit-esque front teeth on the strips to make a sizable cut through them. She gently pulled your wrists apart and the tape effortlessly split. Free, at last.

Using your fingers, you tore away the remaining severed strips with a wince, and threw them to the ground. Battered and bruised, you saw that your wrists were nearing raw from how much struggling against the tape’s adhesive you’d done. You gave a quick massage to stimulate blood flow back into your numbing fingertips.

“There! Feel any better?” Mirko prodded.

“Much. Thank you for getting me out of there. I seriously couldn’t have asked for a cooler getaway than two of the top pro heroes in Japan being my saviors.” you tossed a light joke in along with the gratitude. You yanked the two pros into your chest with a tight hug to further show your thanks, taking a deep breath against their chests. They were rigid at first, but they both allowed themselves. However, while being this close, they couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell drifting off of your clothing. There was little the pros could do to avoid the intoxicating aroma, but before they could delve further into what it was, they heard a tiny sniffle sound from your buried head.

With an alertness to you that he hadn’t felt before, Hawks pulled you away from his chest with a concerned look on his face. “Hey, what’s up, baby bird?” Hawks were much more determined than he had been all night to get you to open up about what was going on in your brain.

Not looking up from the ground to respond, he placed his fingertips underneath your chin and tilted your bent head up. You had a thread of silvery tears lining your lower lash line and a wobbly lip that made both Mirko and Hawks’ aggravation boil their blood.

“Hon, tell us what’s wrong.” Mirko commanded. She could barely contain the loathing that spiderwebbed throughout her heart. When she gets her hands on those measly heroes who mistreated you, she is going to make them wish they’d never bothered you with their worthless existence ever again. Lousy maggots. Just as Mirko’s mind was going to float off the deep end into disturbing plans of vile and ruthless methods of punishment, she caught herself.

Woah. That’s new. That was aggressive.

No, the aggressiveness was not new. She’d always had a bit of spark to her. Her wild thoughts are what made her such a great hero; that’s how Mirko became widely recognized for her prowess. It was who she was having the ruthless feelings against that surprised her. She’s worked with those pros, her coworkers and friends, for years. She barely knows you at all. Yet, she’s planning every possible way she could make the insolent, ignorant gang pay for their mistreatment.

Although, why should that fact matter? Why shouldn’t they pay? Sure, they’re her friends, but they abused an innocent. They forcefully used their quirks and position of power over you to make you suffer! It’s despicable. It’s dishonorable. They should face the punishment of the law. But…that isn’t enough. Her rationality slips, drifting further away the longer she feels you warm her. It fuels a fire within her, and that fire sets the marrow lining her bones a light. She doesn’t want to toss the aggressors off to the police like a spineless coward. You deserve better than that. You deserve more. You deserve justice. She is justice. Technically, she is the law. She will make them pay. Yes, that’s a wonderful idea!

God, she hasn’t felt this warmth in a long time. Too long. You’re wonderful.

Hawks isn’t faring any better. He’s wild-eyed—his mind deep sketching out the framework of delusional fantasies of him taking you on as his trainee, showing you all the tips and tricks he’s learned in the harsh world of hero life, and quite literally taking you under his wing. Maybe you two become more after you get closer. Keigo isn’t unfamiliar with the desire of wanting companionship in his life. He often finds himself daydreaming of a partner by his side, on and off the field of battle. Never a specific person, just a faceless, nameless being, fluttering through his desires. Smiling, laughing, enjoying each other's time together. Cute stuff. Hawks yearns for that small sliver of normalcy. Keigo wants to feel human—to feel whole again after everything he’s been stripped of in his miserable existence.

With you, even though your interactions have been brief and you’ve endured some light flirting of his that is barely considerably mentionable, you’ve brought him nothing but a comforting and loving feeling. He feels indebted to you for simply being you. Not lying to him, or trying to pretend to be someone you’re not. He’s constantly surrounded by deceptive and cruel human nature. He truly couldn’t tell you how many thousands of googly-eyed newbies have introduced themselves to him, praying for even a small flicker of his fame to rub off on them. Hoping to use him to spring them up into the actually noticeable charts. It’s so easy to read them too. They’re open, flimsy magazines. Bright, colorful, eye-catching, and full of back-stabbing and strategically fabricated lies. Spread wide and pleading for him to flip through their pages. They always hiss lies through their teeth, grinning and bearing the once-in-a-lifetime interaction. But no matter how much sucking up they commit to or how well they try to veil the truth of their intentions behind sugared words, he never fails to see through them.

Guess the training he went through as a child was good for something. If you don’t open up to people, you can never get hurt. Sure, that tactic has worked wonders…up until meeting you.

But he’s just so tired. He just wants to lower the railing and find something worth all the fight he puts up.

You might be his outlet.

“It’s…it’s just been a long night. I’m sorry—,” you tried to cover your face with your forearm, desperate to conceal the embarrassing honest showing on your face. Mirko gently removed your shield with a comforting smile.

“Oh no, hon, it’s fine—,”

“Never ever apologize for your feelings—,” both pros stumbled over each other’s words. When they realized they were getting anywhere by interrupting the other, they shared a look. After a small nod shared, they wrapped their arms around you again.

“You’re okay,” they both said at the same time, cradling you against them once again. You snuggled deeper, taking that chance to breathe deep and avoid spiraling into a panic attack.

While your arms were around the two, you accidentally brushed against Hawks’ wings. That is when you noticed his wings had puffed up in size, similar to how any bird does when they want to appear bigger to a threat they face. He had been very tense at the beginning of the hug, so maybe he was only nervous, so you chose to not question it. Plus, you’d just let a room full of deadly pro heroes! Yeah, it’s alright. However, the light thudding taps of Rumi’s foot against the concrete roof was something you couldn’t explain. Is it normal for hybrid rabbits to emulate this characteristic from their bunny counterparts? You’re not too sure.

You tried to pull away, but their tight grips didn’t let you. Oh. Well, maybe they’re both in desperate need of a hug. You’re very familiar with your classmates coming to you for hugs during their rougher days. They always said you had the best hugs, and you take great pride in that fact. Come to think of it, maybe you should ask them all about their mental health more often, just so no one spirals off the deep end and punches another classmate (thank you for that, Bakugo).

OH! Your friends! Maybe Hawks and Mirko can help them! Yes, that’s a great plan.

Peeling further back, you tilted your head up to look them in their eyes. You let out an airy chuckle, “As much as I enjoy the hug, I need some more of your help.”

They instantly lightened their steely grips. Not too much to let you slip away. Mirko held a smug look, as if knowing you’d come crawling back to her for her aid. SHe’s the only one who can provide for you properly, afterall. Don’t worry, let her handle everything for her darling. No task is too big for her. Hawks resembled that of a grinning puppy, excited and warm. Eager to perform any task for praise and treats. Yes! Anything you want, darling, they can provide! What do you need?

They didn’t supply you with a verbal answer, but the looks they carried spoke loud enough, so you continued, “My classmates. I don’t know what happened to my friends, but they’ve got the same thing the teachers do. I think everyone’s infected. I have to help them, but I don’t think I can do it alone.”

As soon as they heard you utter the word “friends”, their bliss was shot and struck the ground like a wounded songbird. Their brains shut off to stop the nonsense you were suggesting. Friends? You need people other than them?! And what’s worse, is you want them to help those idiots?! Last they checked, they were public enemy number one for making you run yourself ragged up and down those endless halls! No, that can’t be right. Those fools don’t deserve their help. Not for what they made you go through.

“No.” Rumi snapped with a frigid simper.

The rest of the sentence you were sputtering falters. You gaze up at the rabbit hero, “...What?”

With a second look-over, Mirko appears a lot scarier than she did only minutes beforehand. Have her eyes always been this clouded? Her unrelenting gaze exudes a darker inkling than when you’d faced her way. Rumi’s eyes stuck on you like gum bonded to the bottom of your shoe.

No. This wouldn’t happen again. They said they’d be better than this—better than them.

Hawks obnoxiously cleared his throat to brush the eerie vibe away from the floundering conversation, “Ehh…haha! What Rumi means is not right now. It’s too dangerous to go searching for your friends now. Finding help for them after the Purge settles down is the safest strategy.” Hawks smoothly saved Mirko’s ass with the perfect excuse, served up on a shining silver platter. You didn’t appreciate how obviously strained Hawks’ tone became at “friends”.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe. Preferably away from this shithole.” She mumbled the last portion, keeping the snark to her own chest, but her contempt for the institution was blatant. Mirko’s eyes were laced with flaming venom as she fleetingly paid attention to the concrete walls. A sneer broke out on her lips, as if just the idea of standing on top of the building was a sin itself.

“Ah… okay.” You tried to leave the hug again. They persisted.

“Mirko—,” Hawks’ voice twisted into a demanding tone. His blown out, puppy-like pupils cinched into vicious slits, staring down the woman.

“Hawks, I don’t want to hear it. Back off.” Mirko gnashed back at the blond. The two began an all out war against each other, both tugging against the other’s advances. A tug to the left, a drag to the right, both parties were unrelenting. Neither wanted to allow the victory of having you in their arms.

“You’re holding them too tightly!” Keigo whined.

“Well, you’re not holding them tight enough.” Mirko argued back. You’ve seen this before. It reminded you of two children fighting over who got to play with which toy, always bickering how the other was “doing it wrong”. It reminded you of Ochaco fighting the guys. It reminded you of Denki and Mina struggling over who got to hold you. Childish squabbles.

Liars, the lot of them. They didn’t want to help you. If they did before, not anymore. They’re infected, there’s no other answer for their behavior.

“Keigo, just stop it! You and I both know that you can’t protect them.” Mirko snarked. That caught the bird’s attention judging by the way his eyes dug into her, all emotion scrapped from his expression. A grim look stole the spot, one that told of violence and mayhem running rampant in behind his eyes. An expression usually reserved for the villains he so often made easy prey of. This is awful.

“And what is that supposed to mean, rabbit?” Hawks’ eyes looked wilder than before.

“I think you and I both know what I meant.” She snarked back, ruffling his feather figuratively and quite literally.

“Be honest with yourself. When was the last time you were able to save something that you actually cared about?” Mirko hatched a devilish plan. She took the chance of his loss of temper to clutch you against her. She took a couple spacious leaps back, creating a sizable distance between her friend turned enemy. Hawks plucked two giant feathers from his wingspan that sharped out into duo blades resembling two scimitars.

“I’m done being—,” just before Hawks could spiral off the deep end into whatever hell he had planned to put Mirko through, a disturbance crashed the party.

“Enough, you two.” A formidable voice shook from the shadows. Those few words are all it takes for the two beside you to back off from tearing out each other’s throats. Whoever it was had the ability to command total control of a room in an instant. You couldn’t see them, but you knew the voice came from the other side of the stairwell exit.

“Great,” Mirko scoffs, tilting her head to look the other way with a cross of her arms. You couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or the shame from being caught. Judging by her scowl, it’s probably the latter.

“Endeavor…how long have—,” Hawks sputtered out. You swivel your head to the gap at the birdman. No fucking way it’s the number one hero. He’s gotta be wrong. The number one pro hero showing up to participate in the Purge is unheard of. Guess you’d be wrong. Though, you suppose that even the number one gets a pass during today. It’s just jarring since All Might had not once in all his years of being the symbol of peace even be seen during the Purge hours. He probably just didn’t want to be caught up in a scandal with the news or social media if he were to ever be discovered converting to be a player of the Purge’s game.

Sure enough though, the one who rounds the corner is in fact Endeavor. He shut Hawks up with a simple raise of his palm and an unforgiving glare. The once cheery hawk tucks into himself and shields his frustration away from the number one.

The first thing that shows you the reality of the situation is his overwhelming stature. You severely underestimated the way this man takes up a room. Seeing him in TV interviews on the news and fighting against villains is one thing, but it is a completely different beast to be face-to-face with him stalking towards you. It made sense why he was deemed the top—with such a suffocating aura, it was hard to believe that any villain even tried to oppose the behemoth. You should know, you’ve met him before.

During your training with him alongside the boys, it had been quite the feat. You’d mostly done in-field training with the boys, but the one time you did have one-on-one training with the pro was unnerving, to say the least. Endeavor had watched your every move, his eyes never straying too far from where you’d displayed the extent of your Quirk’s usefulness. You knew you were as capable, even more so since you could control your emotions, as Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki. Let’s face it, all three of them had a tendency to act out far too irrationally due to their urges and feelings, and they weren’t shy about expressing it. Although, your self control put you in a favorable light with Endeavor, so it wasn’t strange that he gave more of his attention to you.

Instead of bickering and combating everything the pro said with a harsh glower like Katsuki had, you listened intently and gave Endeavor undivided attention. Instead of ignoring the man who actively tried to give pointers and choosing to walk faster ahead of the group like Shoto had, you hung back and asked questions about what Shoto had done wrong in his approach and how to improve his strategy. You became more agile, better aware of your surroundings, and able to predict some of the moves villains would try to throw at you. You understood that the opportunity that Shoto had given to you all with training under his father for the work-study was not something to be taken lightly. Was the man a little too much of a hardass for your taste? Yes. But he was not a pushover. He had valuable lessons to teach you all from experiences he’s faced during his years in the field. If you wanted to actually place in the hero charts one day, you knew you’d have to get past your own opinions on the man and try to cooperate.

If someone asked your opinion of Endeavor, they’d understand he’s not your favorite hero to grace the charts. You’d believed him to be startlingly cold for the fiery nature of his quirk. It was easy to say you’d originally thought him to be nothing but an ass with too hot of a head on his shoulders, and while that was still the truth more often than not, he had his moments of clarity. The media did have a knack for stringing up the moments of his ill temper caught on film and making them the headline of every social media platform. What you had learned during your trainings held at the crack of dawn was that he was extremely precise. There was never a lack of communication or any doubt held within his words whenever he instructed you. Swing a right hook into the dummy’s torso. Sweep your leg to the left to knock the opponent over. He was straight to the point and earnest in the compliments regarding your physical improvements.

He’d even let you spar against him one day. Endeavor had taken the four of you and one of his many sidekicks, Burnin, to the rooftop during one of the few freetimes you’d actually had. He asked you to step across from him and get into your fighting position. He instructed no quirks be used, that it be purely a hand-to-hand combat session that balanced skill and strength together. With Burnin as the referee, you’d begun. He thankfully didn’t go easy on you as he views not giving his all into any task as a “halfass lazy excuse”, so you’d fight with your entire being against Endeavor. He educated the four of you through commentating on all of the things you did wrong; how you’d left yourself open to a couple of jabs from him, turned your back to him often enough that he’d seized an opportunity to lunge and knock you over, and such. Though you were outmatched in a number of categories, you soon understood why he was putting you to this impossible challenge. Enji wanted you to get creative with your tactics to take down your foe. You needed to outwit his strength.

With the newfound spark of inspiration, you struck. You made a move imitating that of one you’d tried against him earlier. A simple left hook. He knew he could easily deflect the punch, so he took the bait. You’d noticed before that he was much more sturdy with his right side, which left room for error on his left, so you took the chance. You sidestepped into his peripheral and closed in behind him. You kicked in the back of his right knee, forcing him to stumble to the ground. You knew you couldn’t tackle the man over from this position, nor could you keep him pinned there due to how much force you had to use to kick his knee alone, so you went with the quickest option. You needed to hit a weak point, but since his body was covered in mostly muscle, you only had a few options. Since kicking him in the groin seemed like too cruel for a simple sparring session, the spots above his neck would have to do. You jumped up onto his back, shimmied up enough to hang onto his shoulder, and threw a hard punch right into his throat.

You left him choking on his air and wheezing. He grasped at his neck, steadying himself on his other arm. Leaving him no hands to defend against your assault. You then shoved your hands into his hair, pulled on the strands tightly, and swung your body forward over the man’s shoulder. You let gravity handle the rest. Your body weight pulled his unstable torso forward and he hit the ground with a hefty SMACK! You bent your knees to land sturdily on the ground with minimal impact to your footing and let his face take the brunt of the fall. You then placed your knee hard on the middle of his shoulder blades to pin him and Burnin deemed the match completed with an impressed grin lilting on her face. Admittedly, for the rest of that day, you gloated the pride you felt at taking down the mountain of a man a little too obviously.

You knew that day he most likely wanted to make an example out of you when he presumed you wouldn’t win the fight, but you’d made sure he understood not to fuck around with you or your generosity again.

Zooming back to the present, you caught his eyes goring a hole right through you. Brilliant aqua blue irises stuck out like a sore thumb against his smoldering flames. No matter how much Shoto tried to deny the fact, he truly was Endeavor’s child. That striking blue color kept locked down within the Endeavor lineage and fiery red hair that draped over half of his head was unmistakable. Features that, however much wasted on the shitty attitude the man possessed, would make many and most fall head-over-heels for their stunning effect. Though, in your opinion, Shoto wore the beauty better.

Enji’s gaze was harsh towards you, but it was kind compared to the one he shot at Mirko’s arm wrapped around you. Perceptive, the woman held you closer, as if trying to defy his silent demand of releasing you. She was dead set on not going down without a fight. Before she could hope for one to begin, Hawks laid a hand on her shoulder as a soft hint to not involve you in Endeavor’s unrivaled wrath. Mirko knew he was right. Dammit it all. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she relented, back off of you. She left you to fend for yourself against the beast, cast you aside to the big bad wolf who wouldn’t spare you. It reminded you of the tale of Odysseus facing off with Polyphemus—only you were unarmed and lacking a foolproof plan of escape and this giant won’t allow arrogance to be his downfall yet again like the monster from the epic had.

Finally, Endeavor was right in front of you. If you had any bravery left from the night, it vanished wholly with him staring you down. Endeavor hardly even spared a tilt of his head to gaze down upon you, opting to stare through a half-lidded examination. The only indication that he was human and not some freaky Terminator cyborg from the future coming to hunt you down was the ever-present scowl he’s so fond of sharing.

Without ever taking his sight off of you, he glowered dryly to an unidentified listener, “Why are they scratched up?” You see now the question is not for you, rather it's dedicated to the duo in charge of you. You peered down to see what he was referring to, only now understanding what he meant from the bruises beginning to bloom along your wrists and the miniscule scratches littering your forearms and neckline. None of them were deep enough to lance more than a couple drops of blood, but they were still oozing fresh from the night’s escapades.

“That wasn’t from us! The students were dragging them back-and-forth between the halls before the teachers got a hold of them. You know how rough kids are with their toys.” Hawks quickly presented to the man. Smooth as ever. He strolled over to Endeavor to lean his elbow against the man’s bulky side, as if casually resting against an alleyway’s grimy brick wall. Although, with how stocky the pro was, you’re sure the feeling was probably akin. You watched Endeavor roll his eyes at the blond.

“I’m sure hurling them through a window had nothing to do with the scratches.” Endeavor’s sarcasm hung heavy in the air like too much icing on a dry piece of cake. It was obvious that his comedic side hadn’t been brushed up on in awhile. He took the chance to use an unexpected gentleness to grasp your forearm and hold up the damaged skin to the duo as all the evidence he needed. You, not taking too kindly to being an item for presentation, pulled your arm away from him and held it close. Endeavor shot you a look of disappointment, but held in the trembling Armageddon he had planned. Hawks gave a weak chuckle, no doubt scrounging for a way to veer the conversation off them scaling the side of a building with you.

Endeavor decided to spare you for now, choosing to cross his arms and acknowledge only Hawks, “What’s their status? Who in the school is infected? How many are after them?”

You were starting to get sick of him completely ignoring the fact that you had your own voice to speak for your own wellbeing. “You know I can speak for myself, right? Or have you forgotten that since we last hung out.” Hawks shot you a look that yelled “shut up” like a parent two seconds away from scolding their child who is screaming in public. You didn’t cower. You pressed on to challenge Endeavor’s authority.

“I’m aware. But I understand if I speak to you, you’ll probably end up whining like a child to me. Wasting my time.” Endeavor threw no more than a half-hearted stern crinkle of his brows, and you pretty much could no longer hold back the bubbling anger swelling up in your chest.

“Excuse me! It’s not ‘whining’, it’s called ‘being a sane person with reasonable concerns’. Also, no shit I would complain! Your little underlings were literally just fighting over who was going to kidnap me! That is a perfect reason to yell.” You waltzed your way in front of him to be a human barrier to get in the way of his sight being fixated on Hawks. You will make yourself heard against this bully. Screw it if he trained you, you don’t just ignore someone you’re actively talking about when they are right in front of you! It’s incredibly rude.

“I don’t have time for this,” Endeavor rubbed temples with one hand. You wanted to rip his head off and shout from the rooftops into his eardrums. Maybe that would get your point through his thick skull.

“Wow. First of all, fuck you,” That certainly caught his attention. His head snapped to look down at your defiance. His eyes bore that same look he’d struck Mirko’s arm with before. Boiling hysteria and bitterness. Even though you physically felt the warmth of his internal temperature rise, and you recognized the panic Hawks held in his gob-smacked expression, you couldn’t stop your big mouth from prattling on. Shoto probably would have laughed his ass off at your opposition to his father. That small support in the back of your mind made your confidence soar.

“Second of all, you can’t seriously think that I am going to be chill with anything you wei—,” you couldn’t finish your sentence before you were all of the sudden no longer touching the roof. The collar of your shirt had been snatched by Endeavor’s strong hand with no warning and hoisted high. You were now dangling limply a few feet off the ground. Keigo was squawking figuratively and literally, yanking on Endeavor’s arm to lower the leverage he held your body at. Rumi took a turn for the worst. Threats cranked out of her mouth as she reared up to kick him as hard as she could square in an area where the sun didn't shine. Maybe give him a taste of his own brutality. With an unyielding and unforgiving hold, he lifted you even higher with no strenuous effort. You yelped, swinging and writhing around to try escaping the brute strength of your foe. He brought you in close to look at you eye-to-eye, making sure your darting gaze has nowhere to turn to other than locking in to meet his own icy pair.

“You will not speak to me like that again. Your attitude might be cute to the rest of these weak links, but I won’t let it go without correction. You show me respect, or we will both have to go through a punishment for you that neither of us will enjoy. This is your first and final warning.” Every word was uttered with nothing but truth. No twist of a joke in his tone, no shift in expression, nothing. Only a foreboding aura and the gravely tone that demanded full cooperation.

Every snappy response died on your tongue. You wanted to fight back, to sass all of them more, to tell him exactly what you thought of him to his stupid, scary face—but nothing came. You felt tears line your waterline, and you couldn’t despise them more. Crying when faced with any kind of opposition…what kind of hero does that make you? You couldn’t explain why your mind drifted to Midoriya in this moment when all hope was lost.

You suppose it’s because you recall a day when the boy had tried to deny his waterworks and his friends carried his tears with grace and love. Deku had been sent off to his work-study with the man he’d called ‘Sir Nighteye’. You didn’t know much about the man, in all honesty, but you did know that one of the strongest students at UA had been training underneath him for some time. The sweet boy named Mirio who had come to meet your class and then single handedly swept you all in a twenty-to-one match. He was quite impressive, so the fact that Midoriya had been taken on to work alongside him was quite the honor!

However, Midoriya came back rather…startled, to say the least. He hardly participated in conversations held around him, didn’t speak up during the lectures, and could barely choke down the food placed in front of him either. His eyes were clouded, a scrunched up twist pulled on his eyebrows like he was stuck in a maze of his own thoughts. He looked far into the distance yet couldn’t process what was in front of him. It was scary. Where did the boy always eager to learn and help everyone drift off to? You wanted him back.

The situation came to a head one day at lunch when you were sitting across from the green-haired boy, Iida, and Shoto. You’d all tucked into your meals when you noticed Midoriya had no intention of even attempting to stomach the spread. Shoto had shockingly tried to crack a very dry joke, and that seemed to wake the distant boy. After brushing off all of your concerns for the nth time, Iida finally challenged Deku’s false reassurance. He’d offered an ear to listen to the boy’s troubles. A simple gesture, most would assume, but it hit the boy hard. Midoriya had tried to keep it in, but the boy just couldn’t hold back his emotions—a fact of which you admired to this day. He tried to claim that heroes don’t cry while he actively swiped away the drips trailing from his evergreen eyes, but you watched as Iida and Shoto shut down that statement quickly. It’s such an easy thing to say but a hard skill to execute. Of course heroes cry! Anyone who doesn’t when facing the nightmarish terrors that they do on a daily basis is lying or too stone cold to be considered human.

You watched as the boys bonded over the spilt emotions and a grin overtook your face the entire rest of the day. No one at that table knew what Deku was going through with poor Eri and the vile Overhaul situation. You hadn’t a clue the true reason Iida had extended his hand to the shaken boy that day. But it didn’t matter. Izuku let his tears and strength glow bright that day. Tears are a symbol of actually giving a shit in this world. Tears you shed are the wordless tale you share with the world. Speaking a thousand words in all different orders. A labyrinth that can be solved or failed, depending on how your own soul understands the riddle. You’re still scouring that maze to comprehend your own salty snivels.

“Understood?” The three heroes stilled, waiting for your response. Wordlessly, you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling, looking away from the man to not give the satisfaction of his actions actually scaring you, and nodded. He gave a satisfied grunt of contempt and lowered you back down to the cement. Hawks flitted over to your side, checking you over. Mirko didn’t exactly come running to you but she did make a point of standing in between Endeavor and you.

“You’ll see why we must do this soon, (Y/N). This life is just too risky for someone like you,” he looked like he wanted to say more to you, but held his tongue. You wished he’d just crawl back to whatever shithole he climbed out of and fester there for the atrocious attempt at playing the “comforting” father role.

He meant it, you know. Enji sees you choose to not look beyond his past. Much like his sons. Not that he can blame any of you. But, for some reason, the abandonment of trust hurt more from you than it did Shoto.

Enji could tell you how many sidekicks he’s experienced come and go throughout his career. Does he remember the plebeians' names? No. Why should he? They left, so that must mean they didn’t meet his standards. No big deal, another will take their place eventually. It’s not his job to care about them or to remember them. However, he does remember you quite well. Truthfully, much to your surprise, before even your work-study together.

The first time he’d even sparred you a passing glance was during the Sports Festival in your first year. Truthfully, he didn’t give a single damn about any students in the arena other than his son. Enji really only went to see if Shoto would finally stop this little rebellion of his by only using that wretched ice his doe-eyed wife blessed their son with. He wanted to see Shoto crack under the pressure and give in—finally admit that the fire portion of his power was the stronger, more reliable half. He managed in his obsession to give some half-assed attention to the other one-on-one duels.

One of the fights he watched over was you against the ditzy girl from the Support Department, Mei something. Initially, he was going to walk away at such an uninteresting sounding fight, but he chose to linger. He saw you willingly agree to Mei flaunting her inventions to prospective buyers by using you as the demonstration device. You’d effortlessly almost danced around her gadgets’ tactics; playing the part of challenging foe, but never let her pin you in a dicey position. You’d ended the fight by running her off the boundary line before time ran out, and both of you shared a hug as you parted ways—both satisfied with you being the victor moving forward in the chain of fights and her having interested eyes witnessing her skill. Normally, a blatant show of mutual benefit would have him running for the hills. That wasn’t a fight, neither of you put any effort into crushing your opponent to a pulp, which is what a real show of power was to his image of winning. Yet, he stayed. Not to watch anything that pink girl offered, only examining you bounce around with both your own strength and the might of your quirk. He wanted you to slip up. He wanted you to make a mistake so he could justify ditching the patetic battle, but you never did. You stayed light on your feet and still struck at your opponent a few times to show examples of the defense her “babies” could provide to heroes.

Intriguing, is all he thought. He then stood and sauntered off until the second round.

The second round he watched Shoto, not as easily as he had hoped, defeat Midoriya. While he was filled with both gratification at Shoto caving into his carnal fire and enragement at that Izuku pest for giving his son the unwavering support to defy his hold over his son, he hardly realized your next battle had begun. It was against the vine girl from the Class B—first losers, rather, to him—Ibara. Unlike Mei’s challenge, you basically wiped the floor with the poor girl. You shot around the court, darting like a bat through an inky full-mooned sky, making sure to not give Ibara a chance to get the one up on you. You hardly let her breathe during the showdown, striking at her again and again from all angles. She was safe nowhere, even when hidden behind the viney defensive walls sprouting from her hair. You’d ended it neat and clean with a swift shot of your quirk, landing her out of the arena. Triumphant, you’d moved up again, but you still remained humble while helping Ibara off of the ground with a bright smile and gifted her a sincere handshake. You’d no doubt made a spectacle of yourself to the crowd and everyone watching at home, the loud cheer of encouragement erupting across the venue said just as much. Enji even hashed out a couple of light claps for your impressive display.

Your last battle was the nail in the coffin for Endeavor. You were finally fighting against his son. Of course, he was obviously rooting for Shoto to crush you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to a nail-biting fight. He got just that. You two dove for each other—ice flung around the court in jagged peaks with you racing around the boy and firing off precisely aimed jabs of your own quirk. Blustering rushes of glacial wind flushed across the landscape. You two waltzed around in a deadly dance of effort and skill. You’d make sure Shoto knew that you weren’t to be cast aside like overlooked trash. You had grit, a will to make a name for yourself in the competitive world of heroes. You managed to last around two minutes in the ring together, which is phenomenal, considering his other battles didn’t last more than a handful of seconds. In the end, Shoto had been the victor when he caught you off guard by using his ice on the floor. He swiftly created a haphazard ice rink and slid you out of bounds. You were too exhausted from abusing your quirk so much that afternoon against your other opponents that you couldn’t stop your body from spinning out. Enji didn’t miss the way Shoto practically dashed over to your side, helped you stand up, and offered his arm for you to hold as you shakily shuffled off the slick floor to a safer spot.

Though you lost, he hadn’t forgotten how you gave his son a run for his money. You were very capable. Which is why he didn’t hesitate allowing you to become a work-study of his under the guise of helping you and your other friends out. This plan he has is not only for the benefit of his own gains, but for Shoto’s as well. He knows his son cares for you, but he has to help you see that after all of the Purge nonsense. You two would be perfect together—the perfect marriage of quirks. Of course, he tells himself that he’s not in this for the sole reason of having another powerful quirk added to his ranks. But it certainly helps him like you more.

You kept your eyes lowered, the lingering sting of defeat simmering behind your eyes and in your heart. You wanted to have an unwavering confidence like some of your classmates. You would never say this to Bakugou, but you truly did admire his “never back down” style. You had seen countless times how he barked in the faces of higher-ups, challenging their morals, their reasons for becoming heroes, and plans. It was as if he never agreed with anything they presented. The blond always had to shove his opinion into every decision made. You wanted to stare Endeavor straight in the eye as you stomped on his foot and make him see what you really thought of all their bullshit. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have it in you to ignore his authority. Guess that’s why you’re still stuck up here on this stupid roof with people you don’t want to be around, huh?

Hawks brushed back your hair, trying to examine your face for distress or injury, but all he could see was you not meeting his gaze. He wants to tell you he knows firsthand how hard this decision is—hell, even he has doubts relying on Endeavor and Mirko. He wants to say he’d be able to make this escape on his own with you. Hide you away alone so no one else has any clue where you are. That sounds like paradise to him. Alas, with so many high profiles after you now, there isn’t a chance of him making it out with his head. If he broke the agreement he resentfully made with the two, then others would certainly turn against him.

Later. He’ll strike later. Don’t you see? That’s why he’s playing the perfect little stepping stool. No one deserves you but him—not even his idol. His hero. He’ll make sure you know that too by the end of this night. Only a little longer of bearing the pretending and game of dress up, then he’ll slip away with you in tow.

“Hawks.” You heard Endeavor call out for the winged man. Daddy’s calling.

Hawks tilted your chin up so you were forced to look into his amber glow, and offered a caring smile. He hoped you could see the promise behind his eyes. The disgust masked behind a beaming smile was perfected for meeting delusional strangers and other worthless heroes. He gave Endeavor that smile, but not to you. You hoped the scowl you shot ripped his lungs out and left them rotting in a pile of maggot-riddled filth. How dare he give you such a carefree look after telling you he was going to steal away your entire life.

After Hawks walked over to converse with Endeavor, Mirko closed in. Not much was said between you two, but she did bump her hip against yours to knock you out of your own head. You turned to give her an offensive side eye, but she only fronted an unbothered look. You went to ignore her again, turning to face towards the men. However, you didn’t get far as she decided to make her personal mission to annoy you. You felt a gentle poke into your side, ticklish and fleeting. You jumped, falling for the trap and glaring at her again. This time, she had a mild grin on her face. It was obvious your displeasure fueled her joy.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to look mad,” she snorted, leaning back on her heels. She couldn’t stop looking at you, and you saw her stare through your peripheral.

You scoffed, “Trying?” You faced forward to deny her yearning for your gaze.

“Of course. I’ve seen mad before, and you’re not at that level. You’re just…peeved. Disgruntled. Ew, no, that word is too ugly to describe you.” Mirko shook her head and stuck her tongue out at the mention of the synonym. You took a deep breath and settled in to focus on the men discussing back and forth.

She circled you like a shark lunging on for her prey, but you simply turned your head the opposite direction of where she was to avoid the confrontation.

“Where you going, grumpy~?” Mirko easily caught on to your aversion. You noticed how her grin truly did resemble something shark-like. The thought crossed your mind if she was really half-bunny, or actually some predator in disguise masking the innocence of a rabbit. A wolf in sheep’s clothing

“I’m actually very interested in that bird over there. Would you look at that, it’s pretty far away.” You apathetically mused at the distant dot in the sky. You brushed her prodding away to daze off into the horizon, Mirko’s words slowly being tossed into the heaping bin of memories you wouldn’t document in your brain. Gazing across the landscape of the dark treeline surrounding UA and the few standing buildings nearby, your eyes scanning the moonlit metal of the nearby rooftops. But something else glistening on the roof caught your eye too. Something moving.

You watched it shift and reflect the moon’s rays from across the neighboring rooftop. You squinted, trying to catch exactly what was skulking around in the dark, but it strayed just beyond your sight. Whatever it was, it wanted to stay hidden.

“Absolutely not.” Endeavor’s thunderous voice startled you from your scouting. Hawks turned his head to see if you had noticed the man’s tantrum—no shit you’d notice that barbaric yell from the brute—and, in seeing your alarm, sighed. He scooted closer to the mammoth of a man, turning his back to you. You strained your ears to hear the mumbling.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s not ideal—I know that—but what other choice do you think we have?” Was all you could hear before Hawks’ voice became too faint to make out comprehensible words.

You then remembered your little “friend” in the shadows. You shot your head back to its previous position to confront the adversary. Nothing. You searched and searched the silent building, but nothing. You wanted to tell yourself that it was just your mind playing tricks in the dark, but on tonight of all nights, you knew better than to downplay your concern.

Finally acknowledging Mirko, you questioned her, “Do you see anything on that roof over there?”

She gave you an unimpressed deadpan, “Seriously? You're trying the ‘oh my gosh, what’s that over there!’ trick?”

“Wha—no!” You looked offended, but you felt a cold sweat on the side of your forehead. Inside, you knew you’d probably have tried that trick sooner rather than later, and you've got to hand it to her. She knows you well.

Before you could try to explain your reasoning, a raging flame shot to strike Hawks and Endeavor.

Miraculously, Hawks’ reflexes were quick enough to shove Endeavor and himself out of the way of the surprise attack before someone was set ablaze. The smell of burning hair permeated the area although, and you looked over to catch a glimpse of a portion of Hawks’ right wing being singed into charred black wisps. Mirko reacted nearly faster than Hawks did, grabbing your waist and maneuvering you back from the fire. It was you and Mirko parted from Hawks and Endeavor far on the opposite side of the roof.

“What the hell?” Mirko grit her teeth at the attack. Psychos getting in the way of her time with you, what a joke. Such a waste of time. She just wants to run off and find somewhere to keep you for the rest of the Purge, yet these shitty obstacles just can’t seem to get enough of you. She was going to rip them limb from limb for taking her attention off of you.

You stood with no complaint in her arms, not minding her taking the lead of your protection. You still couldn’t see who caused the disruption, but you would soon wonder no longer.

“You’re slow today, Endeavor. What? Off your game or something?” A seedy voice echoed across the way. Male, deep, commanding. You watched as the foe came to stand at the edge of the railing. Your eyes dilated at the sight. Your breath caught in your throat. You’d only cared to remember this man as the one who, with the rest of his party, ruined your training camp over the summer and kidnapped your classmate, Bakugou.

You’re shot into the past as you recount that horrible night. It had been such a great start to the day. You’d been working hard with all of your friends, aiming to better improve the longevity and resilience of all your quirks. You’d nearly tuckered yourselves out when the hero Pixie-Bob said you all had one more challenge to face before bed. The Test of Courage. It began as traditionally as any silly game teenagers played in the dark did. Then it all came crashing down at the faint, then quickly overwhelming, scent of smoke. You remember being there in that midnight-black forest, you remembered how excited you’d been at the started of that stupid game you’d agreed to play, you remember the fire that infested the trees and burnt the pretty flowers and bushes to wisps of charcoal ash, you remembered the terror and fear of being lost in said woods before Deku found you wandering alone. You remember locking eyes with the man who stoked the fires. A spearing turquoise. You’d seen a blue so vibrant like that only once before. You’d found that hypnotic color in Shoto’s left eye. Though, Shoto was a much kinder soul than the monster these captivating eyes were attached to.

In the present, you’re wrung back into that same terror as you watched his black leather trench coat gently sway in the breeze, a glinting bicep catching your eye. The metal cuffs shone from the full light of the moon along with the many staples running up and down the sleeves. He was too far away to discern an exact facial expression, but you could blatantly see the large patch of marred, burned flesh dominating the lower half of his face. The leathery substance was roughly connected to what remained of his skin untouched by flame, stitched up with bloody staples. The way it was sutured made his face forever appear as if strung upwards to mimic a sickening Cheshire grin. You wanted to say he was only generally looking around the roof, but you knew better. The villain was practically drilling daggers into you with how much he was staring. No, you couldn’t just say he was any old random villain; you knew his name. Dabi.

More bodies moved out from behind him to occupy the opposing roof. All you heard from them was laughter and unflattering comments nagged at the pro heroes.

“Wow, they’re even cuter this close~! Much better than in the crappy photos you guys took, Shiggy~,” A much higher pitched voice exhaled in an almost loving sigh. Their blonde hair was cinched up in two tangled space buns, but the mess was an intentional look. The loose strands were slicked into spikes. Cutesy and feminine, a happy aura surrounded her, but you knew better. She draped herself over the railing as if in her own ditzy world. You would have believed it was a fainting couch with how dramatically she had laid over the scenery. Much like Dabi, the girl couldn’t take her gaze off of you, but she made her presence known.

“Hiiii, (N/N)~~! Are the big, scary pro heroes getting in the way again? Don’t worry, cutie! I’ll take care of ‘em, hehe~!” Himiko Toga, you believe that’s what Aizawa said her name was, called out to you like she was the Romeo to your Juilet. You’re sure she believed that too. You’d heard Ochaco talk about her to you guys after the training camp. She told you about how the girl tackled Tsuyu and used these specialized needles to draw out blood from her victims. Uraraka experienced the threat head on as the girl had jammed one of her needles straight into her thigh with little apprehension.

Uraraka told you how obsessed the girl was with blood, a crazed look in her eye when the red substance came about. She said she loved her, loved her so much that she wanted to turn into her! Deku even chimed in and said the girl shouted to him delusional fantasies of wanting him to be her boyfriend. At the time, all you could do was shiver and brush off the fear the conversation brought by claiming she was “just another crazed lunatic”. Well, now that the girl is staring you down with her own redden irises, you felt your tongue shrivel up in your throat.

“Bloodied and carved up is the only way any of these nobody pro heroes could ever look cute. Though, the one daring to hold onto my darling definitely won’t be leaving here alive.” She sneered, completely flipping her personality into one of seething hate and disgust when she gazed upon Mirko. Toga’s rage could be felt from a mile away, and you felt Mirko hold onto you tighter.

“Toga, knock it off,” the green lizard man with the draping red scarf hollered at her, “we’ve got a job to do.” Though it was hard to see, you noticed the way his eyes would drift to you and quickly look away. Like he was nervous. Shy? The large clump of weapons taped and glued together as his arsenal seemed deadly but ineffective all in one. However, he moved rather quickly on his feet despite the added weight.

“Wow, such a beauty! Ugh, what an attention-seeker!” The same voice shouted two opposing sentences from across the way. You looked over and saw a man wearing a black and gray spandex suit, clutching the railing while waving his arm around. After yelling, it looked like one of his arms had a mind of its own as it grabbed his neck. It appeared to be he was trying to strangle himself with one hand, while the other hand sprung into action to stop the strangling. It was an odd battle of each arm trying to wrestle each other, as his head kept whipping back and forth shouting insults at…himself? You’re not entirely sure what’s going on there, but you hope he won’t start to try injuring himself with weapons next.

“Hmm, I agree with your first sentence, Twice. Do try to not scare our guest away so soon.” A regal tone stood out through the other members’ silliness. You wonder how much backup did these guys bring as a tall figure in a creamsicle colored jacket walked to the edge of the railing. His height was enhanced with a dark brown top hat he donned and the fancy cane held at his side. The most notable feature of his was the mask he hid behind. Marble man. You couldn’t remember his name, but you certainly remembered the way he trapped Tokoyami and Bakugou when he tried to run away with them in his grasp. You felt bubbling heat rise in your chest. Betrayal and resentment all wrapped into one swirl of hurt leaving a suffocating dead weight on your chest.

“Dabi, keep your shit under control or go back to the base. Get your asses moving. We’re here to take and leave, so don’t fuck this up for me.” An unseen voice was heard from further back on the roof. However, whoever it was got the lot of them hurrying off. Groaned complaints and witty remarks were heard, mostly from the black-haired male, but they soon fizzled out. You kept looking for where they were going, but soon you couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was silent yet again.

“Sorry, darling, but we don’t have time to stay and find out what happens next.” That is all Mirko said to you before she bent down to pull you up into her arms. Though, she didn’t move that far.

“MIRKO, BEHIND!” You heard Endeavor yell out to the woman in concern. You heard it before you saw it. A goopy, unnatural, burbling sound came from behind your form. You didn’t have a chance to turn around before a platform leather boot kicked Mirko’s crouched body away with little effort. She skidded across the cement, nearly all the way back to where Hawks and Endeavor were standing. You wanted to call out for her, ask if she was okay. As much as you’d felt unapologetic rage for how they’d decided to take your life away from you, you still cared about them. You probably gave them too much of your heart, but they’re still your mentors. The people you've looked up to for years in your training to become a hero. Right now, you didn’t want to be alone, as much as you’d begged for it in your mind tonight. Not with the threat of the League of Villains being what you’d have to face on your own.

You heard a sinister giggle from over your shoulder, and felt a calloused hand grasp your shoulder. Without warning, the memories you’d vaulted away with lock and key of the horrible training camp incident came flooding back with greater force than before.

That night, Izuku had found you. Tears dripped down your face as you hacked up a lung from the smoke in the air. If he’d found you any later, you’d probably have been passed out from the lack of oxygen. You ran alongside him, trying to find your way back to the rest of the class, toward any sign of a familiar face. After fleeing, you’d soon found the little boy who originally came with the Wild Wild Pussycats, Kota, with a villain in tow. Deku fought against the mammoth of a man who went by Muscular while you protected Kota from the falling rubble and terrain. After nearly getting thrown a million miles away, Izuku finally got the upperhand on the man, and knocked out the behemoth villain. You fled into the forest again, and after dropping Kota off with Mr. Aizawa and fending off Spinner to save Mandalay, you soon find Shoji and Tokoyami. However, Tokoyami could have been in better shape, as he was now overtaken by Dark Shadow’s power. Shoji explained that he and Tokoyami were attacked by a villain named Moonfish, which resulted in Tokoyami trying to use Dark Shadow to protect them, but Dark Shadow’s desire to take the reins was too great. Dark Shadow was destroying the forest in their rage, but Izuku was quick on his feet to think of using Dark Shadow to your advantage to help protect Bakugou from the villains as well.

You three lead Dark Shadow through the woods, and end up running into Bakugou and Todoroki who are facing off against the villain who tried to attack Shoji and Tokoyami before. Dark Shadow descended and made easy work of clobbering Moonfish, and the boys used their fiery quirks to release Tokoyami from Dark Shadow’s control. All of you hurried off in the direction of the facility, running into Tsuyu and Ochaco who’d been fighting off Himiko before she fled, and your large group prepared to get back safely as “Bakugou Protection Squad”. You didn’t get far as you finally noticed that Bakugou and Tokoyami were missing. The marble guy revealed himself and the League’s plan to take the boys hostage. He flew off, but the girls helped you, Shoto, Shoji, and Izuku fly to catch up to the villain.

You tackled Compress out of the sky, and fended off Twice alongside Shoto when the League fought against you. As you tried to run off as Shoji had yelled for you and Shoto to do, the warp user, Kurogiri, had stopped your escape. When Compress had shown the marbles of your friends being trapped, you saw red. You couldn’t let them be taken, you just couldn’t. It was the miracle that Aoyama’s precise shot of his Naval Laser to Compress’ face that gave you the chance you needed to save the boys.

Shoji had successfully nabbed Tokoyami’s marble, and now it was up to Shoto and you grab Bakugou’s. You were so close, just inches away, before he was ripped from you again. It was the scarred hands of the fire user that flooded your vision. You fell to the ground, empty-handed and desperately looking up at the man searching for any weakness in his grasp to steal the tiny blue-tinted glass ball from him. But it was too late.

It was an extra bit of torture—one that Dabi made sure you guys knew was on purpose—to release Bakugou from the marble so he could watch your failure. You saw the fear swimming in his red irises as he looked at you, the stiffness in his stance, the slight shake of his hands. He looked so…helpless. You’d never seen the boy in such a state of despair before. It was haunting. You stood on shaky fawn-like legs, ready to tear that villain apart with your bare hands, no Quirk needed. You wanted to make him pay for the suffering he put not only your class, but what he put everyone at the camp through tonight. But you were stopped with a gentle embrace.

Shoto had looped his arms around your midsection in a cage. You twisted back to yell at him to let you go, to let you save your friend, but his gaze gave his answer to your plea. He knew you couldn’t win. One eye filled with a harsh, cold steel of an unforgiving bind and the other swimming with a depth that rivaled even the ocean’s own fullness, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You thrashed and screamed against Shoto, not believing you wouldn’t come out victorious in this suicide mission. You unconsciously looked at Bakugou for aid, and it was a cruel reminder that he could save you no more. Both of you being held against your will, both of you screaming for help—one screaming bloody murder, one silent as a moonless night. The savior trying to go where the victim was being taken, but the victim commanding them to stay behind.

You’ll never forget the emptiness after Bakugou was fully snatched through the portal. You’ll never forget collapsing to the dirt beside Deku, Shoto’s arm still chained tightly around your middle, and wailing your heart out.

You’ll never forgive the satisfied gleam in that evil man’s eye. Never.

Except it wasn’t Dabi’s hand this time. You looked at the pale flesh, graying and roughed from years of neglect and self hate. The fingernails were chipped and appeared to be chewed with anxiety-ridden coping. Beneath the nails looked like they’d been clawing at a cement wall, dried blood caked underneath the unmanicured bits. The twitching pinky finger dangling frivolously above the target of your shoulder made your blood run cold.

“Miss me?” Tomura Shigaraki mumbled into your ear with a snarl. You’re sure you were shaking, but you couldn’t feel anything other than the stuttery breaths you took in and out. You could only focus on the lone finger judging the worth of your entire life. One movement too erratic and you’re nothing more than a pile of ash sitting in his rotten hands. You saw Endeavor’s mouth moving, he was definitely addressing the villain, but neither of you were paying attention to the fuming man.

“Staying to chat would be fun, but I think I’ll let them do the talking for me. I would rather spend my breath talking to (Y/N) than you losers.” Shigaraki rolled his eyes. He guided you to step aside, and you reluctantly shifted. A sloshing sounded as Kurogiri’s portal grew to be much larger. Once the portal stretched high enough, a figure swished through. They shouldn’t be here. How can they get onto UA’s premises? Doesn’t this place have some kind of security measure to protect the kids, damnit?!

As if he could read your mind, he chuckled to himself, “So nice that UA’s defenses are down for the Purge. So much easier to ransack this place when I can toss a couple of these guys onto the front lawn. Makes this boss fight a clean sweep.” Out from the portal stepped a massive monster you’d come to know as one of Shigaraki’s playthings, a Nomu.

You’d seen a couple before, namely at the USJ when All Might defeated the beast nearly single-handedly and during the time you saved Bakugou from the League and All for One, but you had never been so close that you could reach out and touch it. As it lumbered past you, you could almost taste the horrifying aura it carried. The violence just itching to break out of its skin. Its body was barely keeping the violence it desires at bay. It was easy to tell how badly the creature wanted to claw the heroes to shreds, the short gasp-like breaths it took, and the stomach-turning visual of its exposed brain and nerve endings. Its unblinking eyes held no emotion. No malice, no joy. Nothing. You’d think it was an impressively realistic Halloween animatronic if it hadn’t just shambled past you.

Then, as if this situation couldn’t get any better, a second one appeared from beyond the portal. A carbon-copy of the first, just as horrifying, just as deadly. Then a third. Three of those monstrosities stood in front of you like an impenetrable wall. The barrier of such an evil force left you feeling light headed. This can’t be happening.

“Have fun, heroes! Don’t come looking for them, unless you’re looking to free up some space on the Hero Billboard Chart. Would be a shame if some of Japan’s finest didn’t make it through the Purge, huh?” Shigaraki called out to them with a scratchy cackle. You watched the three pros prep their Quirks and bodies for the fight to come, you then heard banging from the doors of the rooftop. The doors must have been locked as you heard a hell of a ruckus behind it. Though it was a multitude of voices, deep and high pitched, and lots of them. You wondered who it could be. Your teachers? Had they chased after the pros and were intent on winning you back? Or could it be…

Oh no.

Wait. They shouldn't come up here. Please. Not with these things here, not now. The Nomus had no remorse, no moral compass. They’d kill your classmates right where they stood.

“No…wait, my friends are still here. Please—,” this was the only sliver of argument that you posed against Shigaraki, with a shaking lip and a strip of silver tears lining your lower lash line. He revealed in your fear to oppose him.

“Really? Hmm. Perfect.” Shigaraki smiled a repulsive grin at you, his wrinkled red and slightly pink eyes filled with more bloodlust than you’ve known before. He began pulling you back by the shoulder, but you chose to fight. Yanking yourself forward before a different set of hands gripped your arms, your other shoulder, and your waist. You wrung your body left and right, and you felt closer to Bakugou than you ever have before. Trapped and alone, with no foreseeable aid.

Doors banged and the yelling grew louder.

Slimy drool dripped from the blood-thirst Nomus’ mouths onto the cement floor. Frothed mouths itching to latch onto body parts and tear them off.

Hawks, Mirko, and Endeavor had looks of pure panic as they could only watch you getting dragged away. Not because of the threat of the Nomus, but because they were losing you yet again.

Your screams for mercy were only acknowledged by a calloused grasp, minus the pinky, clamping over your mouth.

And just like that, you were gone.

~ To Be Continued… ~

Far away from the light of the outside world, a dark figure resided in the shadows. A large television took up nearly the entire landscape of their wall, illuminating their body with its harsh glow. A smirk lined their lips, entertained with the events unfolding on that fateful rooftop. Multiple cameras showed all angles of the fight, of their disobedience, of their foolishness.

Not you! Heavens no, not you! Never you. You were perfect, always. Always the perfect little damsel in distress. Always the most entertaining morsel. Delicate and bold at the same time. A real palette cleanser from all the other despicable acts they’ve seen before. They’ve had a lifetime and then some to experience the tiresome, dreadfully boring reality they’ve come to unwilling terms with. However, you certainly add a wonderful zing of sweetness and spice to the otherwise flavorless mush they’ve known life to taste like. They want more.

They watched the despair fill your mind, how distraught you became over the mess they’d created. They saw your beautiful eyes, so teary and wide. So much innocence and hope for this crumbling world held inside them.

They stood, brushing off the dust from their clothes, and walked towards the door that caged them inside. Oh, how wonderful it will be to meet you again. Properly, this time.

<3 — Tag List — <3

@humanoid606 • @repostingmyfavs • @bubblymusiclover13 • @sannpei • @caniseethefourthsword • @notleecassisy • @purplemochicat • @screaminginvoids • @livyyz • @lotionlamp • @slaymbo • @ladybug2235 • @serxinns • @lady-ashfade • @todobakudeku2021 • @sky-angel101 • @justastrobruh • @spoiledgordita • @wolfy1984 • @genderfluid-bastard • @puthypirate42069 • @bubblymusiclover13 • @shiftinglover • @skinseeker77 • @des-deswain5621 • @fr3dsw0rld123 • @mary-jinx • @justafishh • @the-rouge-robin • @cassycas0

[2-dsimp]

•:•.•:•.••:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:

The Gardener who became the Keeper of the yandere Plantweed Pt.1

•:•.•:•.••:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:

You were a gardener working at a humble witches flower shop. And today the Madam witch decided to fully welcome her trustees into her dwelling. Allowing everyone to freely choose a plant being to take special care of as it’ll grow to be their faithful companion. Or so the witch told her employees.

There was a vast selection full of beautiful and unique variations to choose from. Each of the flower beings had their own unique charms chittering and humming tunes to attract their select Keepers.

But at the sight of a plant weed many of your fellow colleagues voiced their concern and utter contempt for the baby weed being that was huddled inside its pot his one big eye peeking out from his shrubbery of leaves as if ashamed to fully show itself.

“Plantweeds are so vile! Why would Madam even have it in selection?”

“Shh! Don’t say such things out loud you idiot! just ignore it and hope it’ll die off on its own”

“Yeah it’s not like anyone sane here would ever think to take care of an ugly weed like that.”

Well it appears that everyone but you were sane. As You believed that even weeds should get the chance to grow. So of course assigned yourself as the plant weeds Keeper. Despite the constant backlash you received for doing such an inconceivable thing.

You found yourself naming the poor thing Ganja, finding it endearing how shy it was. Often times you’d have to gently coax it into moving himself from his pot to another. Just so you could seed some nutrients into his cracked up soil within his original plot.

That was obviously left unattended for so long it amazed you how resilient he was. Cuz despite being a plant weed he should’ve long ago perished from neglect. Since he was half the size of his peers who were already waist up from the pot.

Which was why said plant weed found it nerve wracking to suddenly have someone take care of him. As if he was meant to be cherished just like his other plant brethren (the flowers) who were being catered to.

At first he was wary, thinking you’d just abandon him after seeing how hard it was to take care of him. Having to frequently switch the type of tending methods you’d use as his caretaker.

Due to the amalgamation of weeds ranging from poisonous to hallucinogenic to harmless all growing rampant within his cryptic vessel. That each call for a specific itinerary in mind to tame them. So it wouldn’t cause the greenhouse to become overrun with Ganja’s overgrowth.

But seeing how dedicated you were to genuinely caring for him. Day by day, Ganja became less skittish and more open to gaining every bit of affection you sought to pour into him. You even taught him how to express himself by using colors that would give you insight into how he’s feeling.

“Yellow. Keeper…story?”

Ganja the plantweed chittered one day, practicing on speaking more after a couple months pass by. While his other peers were like chatter boxes in the first few weeks after selection. He held a book you gave him in hand shyly poking at the passage where it discussed the feelings of love.

“Hey there Gan, I’m glad you’re happy to see me! So this is what you want me to read to you for today?”

The plantweed nodded frantically his eyes squeezed shut as he timidly bowed his head. Pleading to hear your voice read him such a concept he found himself drawn to like a moth to a flame. You chuckled and lightly patted his leafy head with a gloved hand.

Like a cautious cat he leaned into your touch, being slightly startled when you carried his pot. To bring it between your legs so you could read it to him while having the pages fully out for him to read alongside with you.

The feeling he had in his cluster of cells within his chest resembled that of a beating heart. As he continued losing himself in your melodic voice the more he began to realize that the love passage. Clearly reflected what he’d grown to feel for you over the ample time you two have spent together.

“And here’s the famous old saying ‘if you love someone, let them go’ Which means that—!”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, as the page you were reading from. Was abruptly ripped from the book by a branched out prickly vine. That ripped the offensive writing to shreds, in a speed so fast and precise that you couldn’t register it happening at all.

“Lies… Don’t like. Hate. Red.”

His voice, sounded like it doubled in three different pitches almost like a glitch. And you were abruptly enshrouded within an enclave of vines that fully encompassed your body and his from the outside world. You’ve never seen him this distraught and furious. Not even when your colleagues would come and pick on him when you weren’t around.

“Red? Gan you’re angry? It’s okay it’s just an interpretation! You don’t have to take it to heart.”

Ganja’s neck did a 360 to fully lock his eyes on you. His expression now unreadable due to the shrubbery covering his features. The space he trapped y’all within was dark save from the light glowing from his eyes.

“Love… No letting go?”

“Yup you can love someone without needing to let go Gan.”

“…Yellow”

You exhaled a sigh of relief knowing that he was now happy. A major upgrade from being in the dangerous color mark. But Little did you know that your answer would seal your fate. As he’d just been affirmed that it was still considered love. Even if he should never let you go. No matter how much you begged.

This plantweed was growing up to be your faithful companion alright. He’d make sure that he’d be the only one you’d ever need.

———————————

A/n: And this is how you meet your plant husband lmao. Let me know if I should make more parts XD kinda debating on leaving it as a one shot.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 3

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

A/N: Steve Rogers is older than Bucky here.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You arrived at the new apartment, feeling a small sense of relief for finally being under a different roof than Caroline’s. The thought of enduring the same torture as before made your skin crawl.

As you settled in, you broke the silence. “Your mom offered the attorney to us.” You remembered how you had insisted the divorce attorney make it as quick and painless as possible. “Why didn’t you finalize it?”

Bucky’s gaze remained steady. “Not once did I think you were actually going to leave me.”

“There’s no marriage between us,” you shot back, your voice sharp. “If you’d finalized it, you could’ve easily married a woman your mother approved of.”

Flashback Start

You recalled every time Caroline mentioned another woman’s name as if they were more suited for Bucky. “You know, Rachel just graduated summa cum laude from Harvard in social politics,” she had said at the rehearsal dinner.

Then, on your wedding day, as you and Bucky sat together, trying to enjoy the celebration, Caroline approached, holding hands with a stunning woman. “Bucky, look who’s here? Katherine just arrived from London.”

Caroline’s voice dripped with approval. “Both of them went to the same law school.”

You clenched the fork in your hand so hard you thought it might snap.

Why the hell was she introducing another woman to you on your wedding night?

Did she expect you and Bucky to have a threesome with Katherine?

From that moment, you knew your place—an outsider who didn’t come from the pedigree Caroline so desperately wanted for her son.

When you finally left the house, you remembered her raising her champagne glass with a smirk. “I always knew you weren’t the one.”

Flashback End

“They need someone with a spotless record,” Bucky said, breaking you from your thoughts.

You stood there, your emotions a mix of anger and disbelief.

“I’m not making excuses for you. I know the old me wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t be the man you could rely on,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret.

He looked at you with a desperation that caught you off guard. “You could poison my drink, stab me in my sleep. I wouldn’t fight it. I’d let you.”

His eyes, usually so confident and composed, were now filled with a deep, pained sincerity. The weight of his guilt seemed to crush him, and the shadows of remorse darkened his features. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. How could he say that so casually? What kind of twisted love was this?

“That’s how much I need you,” he confessed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re using me,” you accused, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and sadness.

Bucky didn’t deny it. “Like I said, it’s a business relationship. But I’ve trusted you from the beginning. Put my faith in you.”

He reached out, taking your hands in his, holding them together like a prayer. “And I hope we can work together. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to work in the White House.””

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The following day, you met Steve, the future Presidential candidate. He greeted you warmly, his genuine smile easing some of the tension you felt. You’d met Steve and his wife, Peggy, a few times before—honest people who never treated you like you didn’t belong. Steve had even defended you whenever Caroline or others looked down on you for not being in the same league as them.

"I’m so glad you’re here," Steve said, clasping your hand. "When did you arrive?"

You chuckled softly. "Well, when three Secret Service agents showed up at my door, who was I to say no?"

Steve chuckled too, though there was a hint of awkwardness in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly. "Let’s talk."

You walked together, the air thick with unspoken words. "I know it’s difficult for you to be here. I owe you big time," Steve began sincerely. He had witnessed your marriage crumble, and despite his and Peggy’s best efforts to support you and Bucky, things had fallen apart.

You sighed. "What confuses me is, why me? He could’ve chosen another woman, someone way more qualified."

Steve leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To be honest, I think you’re the best option. He probably won’t show it, but Bucky was happy when he heard you were coming."

You scoffed, glancing over at Bucky, who was watching the two of you from a distance. "Impossible."

As you scanned the room, you spotted someone familiar—your brother, Tim. Excusing yourself from Steve, you made your way over to him.

"I’m glad you’re here," Tim said, his voice filled with warmth, though his eyes carried a weight of their own.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I can’t believe you. You knew what I went through, and yet you’re working with him? You sucked up to him."

"Look at me," Tim said firmly.

You glanced down at him, seeing the determination in his gaze.

"Who’s going to hire a disabled person like me?" Tim who seated on his wheelchair, his voice wavered slightly as he spoke. He had been born with both legs, but when bone cancer struck his left leg, the doctors recommended amputation to stop it from spreading. That surgery had shattered his dreams of becoming a professional tennis player.

"It was James who offered me a job," he emphasized, "with a high salary."

Tim continued, "You can keep your anger, but face it, Y/N—they won’t pay the bills. For people like me, I need more money to survive in this world."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky appeared beside you.

"Hi, Tim."

"Hey," Tim replied.

"I'm going to steal your sister for a bit." Bucky turned to you. "Our next schedule is couple’s therapy," he said, his voice calm but authoritative, cutting the conversation short.

You hated this part. The thought of attending therapy with Bucky made your stomach twist with unease. You shot Tim one last look, a mixture of concern and frustration in your eyes, before following Bucky out of the room.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As you and Bucky sat across from Aiden, the therapist, the atmosphere was thick with unresolved tension. The room was simple yet comfortable, with soft, neutral tones that were supposed to be calming but did little to ease the storm of emotions swirling within you. You could feel the weight of Bucky's presence beside you, a familiar heaviness that both comforted and suffocated you.

Aiden leaned forward, his expression neutral but attentive. "So, what are you feeling right now?"

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice laced with frustration and exhaustion. "I don’t think I have the courage to live another day in his family. His mother is the devil spawn. Even seeing her shadow triggers me." The words spilled out of you, raw and unfiltered, a reflection of the years of pain and resentment you'd kept bottled up.

Aiden nodded, his gaze shifting to Bucky. "And what about you, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on a spot on the floor, his voice steady but lacking its usual conviction. "I didn’t think that way. As long as we stick together, we can get through everything." There was a hint of desperation in his tone, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You turned to look at him, disbelief and anger simmering beneath your calm facade. "From the beginning, we should’ve never gotten married. You only focus on yourself, never bothering to look behind you. Me, trying my best to fit into your circles."

Your voice wavered, the painful truth of your words cutting through the silence like a knife. You had always known you were out of his league—young and innocent, believing that love could conquer all.

But you had been wrong, and the reality of that mistake was too much to bear.

His mother’s voice echoed in your mind, the countless times she’d told you that you weren’t good enough, that you didn’t deserve him.

"Your mother was right. I don’t deserve you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s expression tightened, his guilt etched into every line of his face. "I’m sorry. I really am sorry." His voice cracked, the weight of his regret finally breaking through.

He had never wanted this—to see you hurt, to see you broken because of him and his family. But the damage was done, and the guilt gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving.

Aiden observed the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. "I see that you’re the victim here, ma’am. And your former mother-in-law is the main reason why." He glanced at Bucky, his voice firm. "Mr. Barnes, your mother hurt her deeply, and now you must do everything in your power to make amends."

Bucky nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "I will. I'll do anything to erase the hurt you’ve received from her." The sincerity in his voice was palpable, but it was clear that the guilt weighed heavily on him. He had failed to protect you, to shield you from his mother’s venom, and that failure haunted him.

Aiden’s voice softened, but there was a steely resolve in his words. "Use this pain, both of you. Let it fuel you to confront Caroline, to reclaim your strength. Don’t let her win. Turn this pain into power."

As you sat there, the enormity of the situation began to sink in. You had been through so much, and the path ahead was uncertain. You had expected to loathe the couple’s therapy, but surprisingly, it turned out to be a beneficial experience.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After the couple's therapy, the silence between you and Bucky was palpable, each of you grappling with the raw emotions that had surfaced.

The therapy had stripped away your filters, leaving you both exposed—your anger and frustration flowing freely. Bucky remained stoic, absorbing your harsh words with an almost resigned patience.

Returning to the Barnes household, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The room was filled with Bucky’s family: his parents, Julius and Caroline; his brother, Shawn, who struggled with cocaine and felt diminished by his inability to meet Caroline’s lofty expectations; and Hazel, Bucky’s sister and Nate’s mother.

Hazel, having felt overshadowed as the spare child, had chosen a career in fashion to escape the constant comparison to Bucky, who was seen as the golden child.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Shawn and Hazel, both of whom shared your misery under Caroline’s disdain. But that sympathy was tempered by their enjoyment of watching you suffer, thanks to their mother’s contempt.

Greg, a family friend, was the bearer of the news that the whole family would attend the upcoming convention event.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said firmly, your tone clipped.

“Why… why?” Greg asked, confused.

Caroline rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Here we go.”

Bucky tried to interject, “Don’t…”

You cut him off with a steely gaze. “After that consultation, you still want to continue this?”

Caroline's eyes narrowed. “I knew we couldn’t trust her.”

Shawn chuckled, and Hazel remained indifferent.

“Quiet,” Julius commanded, his voice brooking no argument. The room fell silent.

With a sense of finality, you approached Caroline. “You’re so jealous of me,” you said, your voice dripping with disdain.

Caroline’s eyes widened, a mixture of anger and shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Because you know I’m going to get what you can’t have,” you smirked, savoring the moment. “Being the wife of the Vice President.”

“You bitch,” Caroline spat, something snapped inside her. Deep down, you were right—she was jealous of you. You were younger, smarter, and luckier. It was her dream to be in your position, but now it seemed like she had paved the way for you instead. What’s worse, you didn’t fit her criteria at all. She felt you didn’t deserve this.

Without warning, Caroline lunged at you, grabbing your hair. The two of you were soon locked in a fierce struggle, yanking each other’s hair and grappling with a fury that left no room for remorse. The physical confrontation was liberating, an outlet for all the anger you had been holding back.

You felt no fear and no guilt towards the seventy-year-old woman. At last, you could release all the anger you had been holding in.

Waiting for karma takes too long, and you can’t expect God to do all the work. So you took this chance to give her a lesson she won’t forget.

“Stop! STOP!” Bucky and Julius’s voices cut through the chaos as they tried to separate you. Shawn and Hazel, their faces a mix of curiosity and apathy, slowly backed away from the scene.

It was a struggle to pry you apart; Caroline, in her rage, was more unruly and disheveled compared to your own controlled fury.

“Hufft,” you adjusted your disheveled dress and hair, glaring at Caroline with a fierce, triumphant look. “You know what? I hope your son wins, so I can rub my new position right in your face.”

Caroline’s expression was one of shock and fury, her face a portrait of someone who had been dealt a blow she wasn’t prepared for. Her eyes were wild with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“You’re absolutely right,” you looked at Bucky, your voice steady. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to live in the White House.”

Caroline’s gritted her teeth.

“If the world wants to see us as a happily married couple,” you said with a cold smile, “I’ll give them the most blissful marriage they’ve ever seen. It’ll be the kind of marriage everyone talks about when they mention a perfect union.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise at your cold declaration. For a moment, he was stunned, but as he processed your words, admiration and pride flickered across his face. He straightened, a hint of a smile forming, clearly impressed by your bold resolve and newfound strength.

Join the tag list:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@dexter99

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@barnesxstan

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@secret-sheee

@esposadomd

@buckitostan

@wh0reforbucknasty

@bada-lee-ily

@mrsstuckyboo

@iamasimpingh0e

@loki-laufeyson68

@sidraaaaaaaaa

@aritoocute

@preeyansha

@crazyunsexycool

@anixerz

@mcira

@touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

@pattiemac1

@elizalexwil

@gingersnap-2

@whitexwolfxx310

@marvel-wifey-86

@kumointhesky

@hnnhbananananana

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@nouis-bum

@vioplay19

@thebuckybarnesvault

@unaxv

@hzdhrtss

@blackbirdwitch22

@darsynia

@lokislady82

@bonkybarnes106

@kandis-mom

@imrandomstuffsblog

@chimchoom

@wintrsoldrluvr

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@sebastians-love

@kythefangirl25

@mrsnikstan

@identity2212

@justsebstan